e away without ever saying good-bye to me," gulped the
child in grieved accents. "Her patient with the _fractious_ hip died and
she had a case somewhere in the country which she had to go to, but she
never told me a word about it. I didn't think she was that kind. I liked
her so much, and now--"

"But, Peace," interrupted Gail tenderly, "she came to say good-bye last
evening and you were asleep. I had gone home and there was no time to
write a note as she had planned to do, so she told Dick--er, I mean Dr.
Shumway. But he forgot to deliver the message this morning when he came
in to see you, and just now met me with the request that I tell you,
with his apologies. Miss Wayne will be back here at the hospital before
you go home undoubtedly, for she is a very popular nurse, not only with
her patients, but with the doctors who send their cases here for
treatment. So you mustn't fret. She did not forget,--she never can,--for
I am sure she loves you dearly, and if you had been awake she would have
said good-bye in person."

"Well, I'm glad of that," said Peace, much mollified at the explanation.
"But anyway, my author lady is gone, and I don't even know her name."

"Yes," answered Gail brightly, "the little author lady has gone home,
but Benny is here."

"Benny?"

"The crippled baby she told you about. Surely you remember."

"Course I remember. But how did he get here when there wasn't any
money?"

"Dic--Dr. Shumway investigated the case, and found it was even more
pitiful than the little author lady had pictured it; so he persuaded
them to let him operate on the baby for nothing, and he _thinks_ Benny's
little crooked back can be made entirely well. He left some medicine
for the poor, patient invalid mother, and she is going to get better,
too. Isn't it all lovely?"

Peace's brown eyes were shining like stars, but all she said was, "What
did he do with the author lady?"

"O, that came out beautifully, too. Dick--er, Dr. Shumway told Dr.
Rosencrans her story in the office downstairs, and it happened there was
a real rich author lady there waiting for her automobile to come and
take her home. Her name is Mrs. Selwyn, and she has been very sick, too,
and must not try to write any more for a long time yet. But she became
so interested in this poor little Miss Garland, that she insisted upon
having her taken to her big, beautiful house for a few weeks. Mrs.
Selwyn employs a secretary to do much of her typewriting, and