"I always 'ave to break it, it's ser nice an' stiff," she said as she ran after them.
To be a Sister is to have a nationality.
As there are Icelanders urbane, witty, lazy ... and yet they are all Icelanders ... so there are cold, uproarious, observant, subservient, slangy, sympathetic, indifferent, and Scotch Sisters, and yet....
Sister said of a patient to-day, "He was a funny man."
A funny man is a man who is a dark horse: who is neither friendly nor antagonistic; who is witty; who is preoccupied; who is whimsical or erratic—funny qualities, unsafe qualities.
No Sister could like a funny man.
In our ward there are three sorts of men: "Nothing much," "nice boys," and Mr. Wicks.
The last looms even to the mind of the Sister as a Biblical figure, a pillar of salt, a witness to God's wrath.
The Sister is a past-mistress of such phrases as "Indeed!" "That is a matter of opinion," "We shall see..." "It is possible."