ld just come over to the hospital while her people are
there and--and say she'd lived with you all the time----"

"That's the truth all right!"

"And--that she worked for you, sewing--she sews very well, she
says. And--oh, you'll know what to say; that she's been--all right,
you know; anything to make them comfortable and happy."

Now the stout woman was softening--not that she was really hard, but
she had developed a sort of artificial veneer of hardness, and good
impulses had a hard time crawling through.

"I guess I could do that much," she conceded. "She nursed me when I
was down and out with the grippe and that worthless nigger was drunk
in the kitchen. But you folks over there have got a parrot that
belongs to me. What about that?"

The Probationer knew about the parrot. The Dummy had slipped it
into the ward more than once and its profanity had delighted the
patients. The Avenue Girl had been glad to see it too; and as it sat
on the bedside table and shrieked defiance and oaths the Dummy had
smiled benignly. John and the dove--the girl and the parrot!

"I am sorry about the parrot. I--perhaps I could buy him from you."

She got out her shabby little purse, in which she carried her
munificent monthly allowance of eight dollars and a little money she
had brought from home.

"Twenty dollars takes him. That's what she owed me."

The Probationer had seventeen dollars and eleven cents. She spread
it out in her lap and counted it twice.

"I'm afraid that's all," she said. She had hoped the second count
would show up better. "I could bring the rest next month."

The Probationer folded the money together and held it out. The stout
woman took it eagerly.

"He's yours," she said largely. "Don't bother about the balance.
When do you want me?"

"I'll send you word," said the Probationer, and got up. She was
almost dizzy with excitement and the feeling of having no money at
all in the world and a parrot she did not want. She got out into the
air somehow and back to the hospital. She took a bath immediately
and put on everything fresh, and felt much better--but very
poor. Before she went on duty she said a little prayer about
thermometers--that she should not break hers until she had money for
a new one.

* * * * *

Father Feeny came and lined up six budding priests outside the door
of the ward. He was a fine specimen of manhood and he had asked no
questions at all. The Senior