But Ruth did not smile with the others. She meant what she said, and when the lifeboat reached the ship and the victim was lifted to the deck, Ruth was one of the first at his side.
The ship’s doctor was already at the spot, well-supplied with restoratives, and when Ruth begged him to let her help, saying that she had had experience in nursing with the Red Cross, the physician smiled indulgently and invited her to the old gentleman’s cabin below.
Ruth ran for her favorite prescription, ignoring the good-natured rallying of her friends, and entered the old gentleman’s cabin just as they had made him comfortable in his berth.
The doctor examined the label on the bottle Ruth held out to him and nodded approvingly.
“Haven’t I met you somewhere before?” he asked, keen eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
The question surprised Ruth. But as she regarded the kindly, intelligent face of the physician, memory flashed back to her the vision of an emergency hospital somewhere back of the firing line; still figures on narrow cots of pain; soft-footed, busy nurses; grim-faced, competent surgeons, tireless in their service to humanity.
“I was with the Red Cross in France,” she suggested.
“Of course!” exclaimed the doctor. His manner was immediately cordial and he spoke as one member of the profession to another. “I have a fine memory for faces; but as to names—” He waved a deprecating hand. “Mr. Knowles is lucky in having so capable and willing a volunteer nurse,” he finished pleasantly.
At the mention of his name, the old gentleman on the bed opened his eyes wearily. His gaze rested on Ruth and an expression of pleasure overspread his face.
“This is Miss Fielding, isn’t it?” he asked, as Ruth came toward him hesitantly.