"How come you to be so strong, and so young, and so - well, so unlike all this sort of thing? - Have you ever, no you never have, seen much of sickness and death, and that?"
"No; not much."
"But you look as calm as a field of white clover. I beg your pardon, my dear; it's like you. And you ain't one of the India rubber sort, neither. I am glad you ain't, too; I don't think that sort is fit to be nurses or anything else."
She looked at me inquiringly.
"Miss Yates," I said, "I love Jesus. I am a servant of Christ.
I like to do whatever my Lord gives me to do."
"Oh!" said she. "Well I ain't. I sometimes wish I was. But it comes handy now, for there's a man down there - he ain't a going to live, and he knows it, and he's kind o' worried about it; and I can't say nothing to him. Maybe you can. I've written his letters for him, and all that; but he's just uneasy."
I asked, and she told me, which bed held this sick man, who would soon be a dying one. I walked slowly down the ward, thinking of this new burden of life-work that was laid upon me and how to meet it. My very heart sank. I was so helpless. And rose too; for I remembered that our Redeemer is strong. What could I do?
I stood by the man's side. He was thirsty and I gave him lemonade. His eye met mine as his lips left the cup; an eye of unrest.
"Are you comfortable?" I asked.
"As much as I can be." - It was a restless answer.