t her. Friends were close at
hand and a few minutes would bring her to Ephraim. That he was injured
and helpless she knew, yet could not realize; while she could and did
realize to the full all the novelty about her. The swift motion of the
electric car, the gay and busy streets, the palm-bordered avenues they
crossed, the ever-changing scenes of the city, each richer and more
wonderful than the other, in her inexperienced eyes. She would have liked
to ask many questions, but her companions were now conversing in low
tones and she would not interrupt. Soon, however, she saw Mr. Sharp make
a slight gesture with his hand and the car stopped. "Our street," he
said, rising.

A brief walk afterward brought them to a big building, standing somewhat
back from the avenue, with a green lawn and many trees about it.
Above the several gateways of its iron fence were signs, indicating:
"Accident Ward," "Convalescent's Ward," "General Hospital,"
"Nurses' Home," "Dispensary," etc., all of which confused and
somewhat startled the country-reared girl. The more, it may be, as, at
that moment, the gong of an ambulance warned them to step off the
crossing before the "accident" alley beside the main building, and
the big van dashed toward an open door.

Jessica gripped Mr. Hale's hand, nervously, and watched in a sort of
fascination while white-garbed attendants lifted an injured man from the
ambulance and carried him tenderly into the hospital.

"Is--is he hurt?"

"Yes, dear, I suppose so."

"Was it like that they brought Ephraim here?"

"Probably."

"Oh! how dreadful! My poor, poor 'Forty-niner.'"

"Rather, how merciful. But come; such a brave little woman as you
mustn't show the white feather at the mere sight of a hospital van.
Ephraim has been well cared for, be sure; and as he has been told to
expect you he'll be disappointed if you bring him a scared, unhappy
face."

"Then I'll--I'll smile," she answered, promptly, thought the effort
was something of a failure.

Soon they entered the building, whose big halls were so silent in
contrast with the street outside, and where the white-clad doctors and
nurses seemed to Jessica like "ghosts" as they moved softly here
and there. Again she clinched the lawyer's hand and whispered:

"It's awful. It smells queer. I'm afraid. Aren't you?"

"Not in the least. I like it. I've been a patient in just such places
more than once and think of them as the most blessed institutions in
t