e?"

And she went down to defeat, with the laughter of the ward in her
ears--down to defeat, for the Avenue Girl would have none of her.

"You get out of here!" she said fiercely as Old Maggie set to work
at the draw sheet. "Get out quick--or I'll throw this cup in your
face!"

The Senior was watching. Old Maggie put on an air of benevolence and
called the Avenue Girl an unlovely name under her breath while she
smoothed her pillow. She did not get the cup, but the water out of
it, in her hard old face, and matters were as they had been.

The Girl did not improve as she should. The _interne_ did the
dressing day after day, while the Probationer helped him--the Senior
disliked burned cases--and talked of skin grafting if a new powder
he had discovered did no good. _Internes_ are always trying out new
things, looking for the great discovery.

The powder did no good. The day came when, the dressing over and the
white coverings drawn up smoothly again over her slender body, the
Avenue Girl voiced the question that her eyes had asked each time.

"Am I going to lie in this hole all my life?" she demanded.

The _interne_ considered.

"It isn't healing--not very fast anyhow," he said. "If we could get
a little skin to graft on you'd be all right in a jiffy. Can't you
get some friends to come in? It isn't painful and it's over in a
minute."

"Friends? Where would I get friends of that sort?"

"Well, relatives then--some of your own people?"

The Avenue Girl shut her eyes as she did when the dressing hurt her.

"None that I'd care to see," she said. And the Probationer knew she
lied. The _interne_ shrugged his shoulders.

"If you think of any let me know. We'll get them here," he said
briskly, and turned to see the Probationer rolling up her sleeve.

"Please!" she said, and held out a bare white arm. The _interne_
stared at it stupefied. It was very lovely.

"I am not at all afraid," urged the Probationer, "and my blood is
good. It would grow--I know it would."

The _interne_ had hard work not to stoop and kiss the blue veins
that rose to the surface in the inner curve of her elbow. The
dressing screens were up and the three were quite alone. To keep his
voice steady he became stern.

"Put your sleeve down and don't be a foolish girl!" he, commanded.
"Put your sleeve down!" His eyes said: "You wonder! You beauty! You
brave little girl!"

Because the Probationer seemed to take her responsibilities rather
to