"Blackborough."
The tears for some reason or other came into Helen's eyes, and even Peter Ramsay winked. It was a fairy tale indeed.
"These are your rooms sir," said the little Dutch nurse, "The Governing body desire me to say they would be pleased to alter them in any reasonable way you might desire."
Peter Ramsay looked round the wide rooms whose walls were almost all cupboards, which was heated by a self-feeding stove, where the doors and drawers shut automatically, and the very wash-hand basin tilted itself empty, with a distinctly annoyed smile. "I don't believe even I could be untidy in it," he said grudgingly, "But if you will excuse me, nurse--who are the Governing Body?"
"Oh! there are several gentlemen, I believe; but I only know the one name--Lord Blackborough. I have not seen him. He is to be here to-day, however--it is their first Committee meeting, you know."
"It--it was built by a Syndicate, wasn't it?" asked Helen.
"Yes; by a Syndicate. I don't think Lord Blackborough had anything to do with it. These are your--that is, the matron's rooms."
Helen gave a little cry. They were the replica of her rooms at the Keep, even to the row of flower-pots on the window-sills and the little niche for her prie-dieu chair. What a memory he had--and what an imagination!
"They must have spent any amount of money over it," continued the buxom little nurse, "for everything is quite perfect--on a small scale of course--I mean in comparison with the London hospitals; but none of them, so far as I know, is half so well equipped for children. It will be a pleasure to work here."
She threw open the door of a ward and introduced Nurse Mary, an elderly woman also in the quaintly Dutch dress.