“I am not Mrs. Graham’s keeper,” Tom replied, “but I should be sorry to see her acting in the capacity of hospital nurse, even though I know that some of our noblest, best women are engaged in that work.”
“Yes, old chap,” and Jimmie laughed a merry laugh. “It’s mighty easy talking that way now, but suppose you Captain Carleton, are some day among the terribly wounded, thigh shot through, arm splintered above the elbow, jaw-bone broken, and all that, wouldn’t the pain be easier to bear, if the nurse should happen to be Mrs. Graham, or somebody just like her?”
“Undoubtedly it would,” Tom answered. “Still I should be sorry to have her there amid the sickening horrors.”
“Please stop, I can’t bear to hear about it!” Rose exclaimed. “I know it would be nice to be a Florence Nightingale, and Annie would make a splendid one, but I’ll never let her go, unless you, or Jimmie, or Will are wounded, and then we’ll come together, won’t we, Annie?”
There was no response from Annie, until Jimmie said:
“Say, Mrs. Graham, if I am ever wounded, and you hear I am suffering in some dismal hole, will you come and care for me?”
He did not join Will’s or Tom’s name with his own. It was “Jimmie Carleton” whom Annie was to nurse. But it did not matter. Lifting up her head so that her soft, blue eyes looked into his, Annie answered, unhesitatingly:
“Providence permitting, I will, and I would do the same for any brave fellow who follows, as my husband did, where duty to his country leads.”
“So you see you will fare no better than I, after all,” Tom laughingly rejoined, while Jimmie thought within himself:
“Why need she always bring that husband in? It’s bad enough to know she’s had one, without eternally hearing about him.”