According to Sheila O’Leary’s best reckoning the dam was only half built when the little boy fell fast asleep over his work. And when the gray of the morning stole down the corridors of the Surgical, No. 3 was sleeping, with one arm thrown over his head as little boys sleep, and the other holding fast to the nurse on night duty.
But it takes a long while to break down an old habit and build up a new one, as it takes a long while to build a dam. No less than tons of stones must have gone to the building of Peter’s before the time came when he could drop asleep alone and unguided. In all that time neither he nor the girl ever spoke of what lay between the putting out of the night lamp and the waking fresh and rested to a welcomed day.
With sleep came speedy recovery, and Peter was the most popular convalescent in the Surgical. His laugh had suddenly grown contagious, his humor irresistible, his outlook on life so optimistically bubbling that less cheery patients turned their wheel-chairs to No. 3 for revitalizing. The chief came up with Doctor Dempsy from town, and both went away wearing the look of men who have seen miracles. Life in its fullness had come to Peter, the life he had dreamed of, as a lost crosser of the desert dreams of water. Efficient work was to be his again, and companionship, and—yes, for the first time he hoped for the third and best of life’s ingredients—he hoped for love.
And then, just as everything looked best and brightest, he was told that he no longer needed a night nurse. Sheila O’Leary was put on the case of an old lady with chronic dyspepsia. She told him herself, as she went off duty in the Surgical for the last time.
“You’ve had the best sleep of all.” She smiled at his efforts to pull himself awake. “I’ll drop in when I’m passing, to see how you’re getting on, but otherwise this is good-by and good luck.” She held out her hand.
“Why—but—Hang it all! I can’t get along without a night nurse. And if I don’t need one, why can’t you take Miss Tyler’s place in the day?”
“Orders.” Sheila announced it as an unshakable fact.
“I’ll see Miss Maxwell.”
“No use. She wouldn’t listen.”
“Guess if I’m paying for it I can have—”