“No, no: pray let me go on with you. I will not give way again, indeed I will not,” said Elfie, lifting her face.
And she kept her promise, although there passed her at that moment two soldiers, bearing between them a ghastly burden—a man with a livid face, and a bandaged head crimsoned with blood.
Old Bob, with a hamper of lint under each arm, followed the two young ladies.
Erminie led the way up the first flight of stairs to the first floor, and turned at once to the clothing room attached to that ward, and under the charge of a Sister of Mercy.
It was a room furnished all around with shelves and drawers like a dry goods store, and filled with ready made under clothing, dressing gowns, bed linen and napery.
A mild-eyed, black-robed young sister arose to receive the visitor.
“I have brought you a fresh supply of lint, Sister Agnes,” said Erminie.
“Ah, yes; we are very glad to have it; it is very much wanted. We had not near enough for the fresh cases we have received to-day.”
“From what battle-field do these come, Sister, do you know?”
“I don’t. Some of them came up by the steamboats. So I suppose there has been another battle somewhere down the river. And some of them, I know, came by railroad from the valley, where there has been a fight with the guerrillas.”