The minutes dragged slowly, slowly by, and the hands of the round-faced clock over the desk in the office seemed scarcely to move at all. Then, just as she was beginning to think the messenger had forgotten her, he returned accompanied by a cheerful-looking young woman in nurse’s uniform, who came directly up to Polly and said in a kindly voice: “You are enquiring about Miss Ruth Carter?”
Polly nodded.
“Well, her nurse has been called away and I don’t really know much more than this—that a lady came for Miss Carter yesterday and took her away. She isn’t here any more. Another patient has her room.”
Polly stared hopelessly up at the cheerful-looking young woman and her lips moved but she could not speak.
“Perhaps you are Miss Carter’s little sister? Yes, I thought you might be. Well, you’ll probably hear all about her when you get home. If her nurse hadn’t been called away she could tell you just how the case stands. I’m new here and don’t know anything more about Miss Carter than what I’ve told you.”
“Then you don’t know if she’s worse?” stammered Polly.
“Why, no—I don’t,” admitted the nurse.
“Do they—do they—ever take them away when they’re worse?” The cheerful-looking nurse examined her cuffs with a good deal of interest.
“Why, yes—sometimes they do,” she replied hesitatingly. “You know this isn’t a hospital for incurables. If your sister had been here some time and she couldn’t be cured, or if she grew worse she would have to be removed.”