She stood beside the bed of Albert Goldsborough.
“Elfie, didn’t you know me?” he sadly and faintly inquired.
“No. I was picking out the biggest orange for the man who had to wait the longest, and so I didn’t look at you, and didn’t know you. You might have been sure of that. And now that I do know you, I take back all I said and all I gave. Hand me that orange. I have nothing for you.”
“Not even forgiveness, Elfie?” he sighed, as he restored the fruit.
“Nothing,” she answered grimly, turning from him and walking back.
The hospital beds were very narrow and very near together. The wounded soldier that occupied the one next to Albert Goldsborough, heard and saw all that had passed between him and Elfie.
Now turning painfully on his side, he stretched out his hand towards Goldsborough and said:
“Here, Reb., take half my orange. Do now—you’re welcome to it. A Reb. boy gave me half his bread and water while we lay together on the battle-field before I was brought here; and I haven’t forgot that yet! Take half my orange, Reb., or if you’re thirsty take the whole.”
Albert Goldsborough smiled and shook his head, saying: “I thank you, but cannot take it. The lady who gave it would not like the transfer.”
Elfie heard all this and felt ashamed. She stopped short and burst into tears. She was almost hysterical with contradictory emotions. But she knew it would never do to make a scene in the ward of a hospital.