"She's not been conscious since they brought her in," the nurse said; "it's a street accident; knocked down by an omnibus. We don't know her name, or nothing, and no one's been to ask about her."
The doctor still stopped, looking at the lilies in the old hand.
"She is badly hurt," he said.
The nurse explained what the house surgeon had said: "Another day will see an end of it. I thought she would have died this morning when I first came on; she was restless then, and talked a little. I fancy she's Scotch, for I heard her say, 'Laddie' several times."
The word seemed to catch the otherwise unconscious ear, for the old woman turned her head on the pillow, and said feebly, "Laddie."
And then, all at once, the doctor gave a cry that startled all the patients in the ward, and made many a one lift up her head to see the cause of such a cry.
"Mother!" he cried, "mother, is it you?"
Dr. Carter was kneeling by the bed, looking eagerly, wildly, at the wan white face. Was he mad? The nurse thought he must be, and this sudden frenzy. And then he called again.—-
"Mother, mother, speak to me!"
A childless mother near said afterwards she thought such a cry would have called her back from the dead, and it almost seemed to do so in this case, for the closed lids trembled and raised themselves a very little, and the drawn mouth moved into the ghost of a smile, and she said,—