“I want something from my trunk,” she said.
The assistant wakened reluctantly, and looked at her watch. Almost morning. She yawned and pinned on her cap.
“For Heaven's sake,” she protested. “You don't want me to go to the trunk-room at this hour!”
“I can go myself,” said Carlotta, and put her feet out of bed.
“What is it you want?”
“A letter on the top tray. If I wait my temperature will go up and I can't think.”
“Shall I mail it for you?”
“Bring it here,” said Carlotta shortly. “I want to destroy it.”
The young woman went without haste, to show that a night assistant may do such things out of friendship, but not because she must. She stopped at the desk where the night nurse in charge of the rooms on that floor was filling out records.
“Give me twelve private patients to look after instead of one nurse like Carlotta Harrison!” she complained. “I've got to go to the trunk-room for her at this hour, and it next door to the mortuary!”