"What is it?" demanded the Senior Surgeon quite bluntly.
"Do I have to tell?" gasped the White Linen Nurse. A little tremulously in her hand the empty cup she was carrying rattled against its saucer. "Do I have to tell?" she repeated pleadingly.
A delirious little thrill of power went fluttering through the Senior
Surgeon's heart.
"Yes, you have to tell me!" he announced quite seriously.
In absolute submission to his demand, though with very palpable reluctance, the White Linen Nurse came forward to the table, put down the cup and saucer, and began to finger a trifle nervously at the cloth.
"Oh, I'm sure I didn't mean any harm, sir," she stammered. "But all I say is,—honest and truly all I say is,—'Bah! He's nothing but a man—nothing but a man—nothing but a man!' over and over and over,—just that, sir!"
Uproariously the Senior Surgeon pushed back his chair, and jumped to his feet.
"I guess after all I'll have to let the little kid call you—'Peach'—one day a week!" he acknowledged jocosely.
With infinite seriousness then he tossed back his great splendid head,—shook himself free apparently from all unhappy memories,—and started for his work-room,—a great gorgeously vital, extraordinarily talented, gray-haired boy lusting joyously for his own work and play again—after a month's distressing illness!
From the edge of the hall he turned round and made a really boyish grimace at her.