Ten years earlier Christie made her début as an Amazon, now she had a braver part to play on a larger stage, with a nation for audience, martial music and the boom of cannon for orchestra; the glare of battle-fields was the “red light;” danger, disease, and death, the foes she was to contend against; and the troupe she joined, not timid girls, but high-hearted women, who fought gallantly till the “demon” lay dead, and sang their song of exultation with bleeding hearts, for this great spectacle was a dire tragedy to them.
Christie followed David in a week, and soon proved herself so capable that Mrs. Amory rapidly promoted her from one important post to another, and bestowed upon her the only honors left the women, hard work, responsibility, and the gratitude of many men.
“You are a treasure, my dear, for you can turn your hand to any thing and do well whatever you undertake. So many come with plenty of good-will, but not a particle of practical ability, and are offended because I decline their help. The boys don’t want to be cried over, or have their brows ‘everlastingly swabbed,’ as old Watkins calls it: they want to be well fed and nursed, and cheered up with creature comforts. Your nice beef-tea and cheery ways are worth oceans of tears and cart-loads of tracts.”
Mrs. Amory said this, as Christie stood waiting while she wrote an order for some extra delicacy for a very sick patient. Mrs. Sterling, Jr., certainly did look like an efficient nurse, who thought more of “the boys” than of herself; for one hand bore a pitcher of gruel, the other a bag of oranges, clean shirts hung over the right arm, a rubber cushion under the left, and every pocket in the big apron was full of bottles and bandages, papers and letters.
“I never discovered what an accomplished woman I was till I came here,” answered Christie, laughing. “I’m getting vain with so much praise, but I like it immensely, and never was so pleased in my life as I was yesterday when Dr. Harvey came for me to take care of poor Dunbar, because no one else could manage him.”
“It’s your firm yet pitiful way the men like so well. I can’t describe it better than in big Ben’s words: ‘Mis Sterlin’ is the nuss for me, marm. She takes care of me as ef she was my own mother, and it’s a comfort jest to see her round.’ It’s a gift, my dear, and you may thank heaven you have got it, for it works wonders in a place like this.”
“I only treat the poor fellows as I would have other women treat my David if he should be in their care. He may be any hour, you know.”
“And my boys, God keep them!”
The pen lay idle, and the gruel cooled, as young wife and gray-haired mother forgot their duty for a moment in tender thoughts of the absent. Only a moment, for in came an attendant with a troubled face, and an important young surgeon with the well-worn little case under his arm.
“Bartlett ’s dying, marm: could you come and see to him?” says the man to Mrs. Amory.