I NEVER GET TIRED—EATING, THE LEAST OF MY TROUBLES
“Miss Barton, these workers say they are starving,” said “Sister Harriette”; “it’s four o’clock, and they have had nothing to eat since early morning.”
“Why, bless their dear hearts; I had forgotten all about them. Take them to the restaurant across the street, and get them something to eat.”
“But, Miss Barton, you need a rest and something to eat as much as we do.” “Oh, no, I never get tired, you know, and eating is the least of my troubles.” Miss Barton kept at her work in the warehouse, unpacking and repacking, preparatory to leaving.
In the dusk of the evening, her assistants returned and Miss Barton was still there, alone, and at work. Turning to the workers Sister Harriette said: “Did you ever see such a tireless worker? Miss Barton must have some source of strength we know nothing about.”
The relief workers had cared for, provisioned and resettled in their homes 30,000 negro refugees, victims of the cyclone and hurricane disaster on the Carolina Islands. The party arrived at Beaufort late that night; the “workers,” worn out; Clara Barton, as vigorous as when the relief-work-campaign opened ten months before.