The conversation that ensued is not worth repeating, being more of the nature of a soliloquy. The poor wretch had ventured into a bleak and comfortless portion of the world, and its inhuman mother had not provided a rag to cover it. No one could scold her at such a time, however ardently they might desire to do so. But what was to be done? I went in search of my chief surgeon, and our conversation although didactic was hardly satisfactory on the subject.
“Doctor, Mrs. Daniels has a baby. She is in ward G. What shall I do with her?”
“A baby! Ah, indeed! You must get it some clothes.”
“What must I do with her?”
“Move her to an empty ward and give her some tea and toast.”
This was offered, but Mrs. Daniels said she would wait until dinner time and have some bacon and greens.
The baby was a sore annoyance. The ladies of Richmond made up a wardrobe, each contributing some article, and at the end of the month, Mrs. D., the child, and a basket of clothing and provisions were sent to the cars with a return ticket to her home in western Virginia.
Sadie Curry And “Clara Fisher”
[I. L. U.]