Men were lost and frozen to death in the streets while going from their business houses to their homes.
A lady attempting to alight from a carriage at one of the railroad stations, in order to make an outgoing train, slipped, or was blown down upon the icy pavement. She was taken up insensible and carried to the nearest hospital.
“I do not think we have even a corner vacant,” said the superintendent; “but of course she cannot leave the building now.”
She sent for Mrs. Waxe.
“The Prince Ward is unoccupied?”
The head nurse glanced at the stretcher and hesitated.
“Yes; but it is next to impossible to heat it, you know, doctor.”
“Do the best you can,” replied the superintendent. “The woman should have been taken to the Emergency, but you see what the weather is.”
Mrs. Waxe divested the traveler of her velvet and furs, her lace and linen, the bag of diamonds secreted in her bosom, her long perfumed gloves, her silk underwear, her jeweled garters and hairpins. She left nothing on her but the black pearls in her ears and the magnificent rings on her fingers; then slipped a hospital shirt on her fair body, and tucked her shining curls into a cap. The fall had fractured the bone of one leg and several ribs.