Quite brazenly to her own heart, which never yet apparently had stirred the laces that enshrined it, his sister-in-law pointed with persistent banter.
“Maybe I refer to myself,” she laughed, “and maybe to the only other lady present.”
“Oh!” gasped the White Linen Nurse.
“You do me much honor, Agnes,” bowed the Senior Surgeon. Quite resolutely he held his gaze from following the White Linen Nurse’s quickly averted face.
A little oddly for an instant the older woman’s glance hung on his.
“More honor perhaps than you think, Lendicott Faber,” she said, and kept right on smiling.
“Eh?” jerked the Senior Surgeon. Restively he turned to the White Linen Nurse.
Very flushingly on the steps the White Linen Nurse knelt arguing with the Little Crippled Girl.
“Your father and I are going away,” she pleaded. “Won’t you please kiss us good-by?”
“I’ve only got one kiss,” sulked the Little Crippled Girl.