Then come up to me there in five minutes." I explained to my friend the house surgeon that I wished to see certain cases in the accident ward of which I had heard; he smiled a restrained smile--"Nurse Wade, no doubt!" but, of course, gave me permission to go up and look at them.

"Stop a minute," he added, "and I'll come with you." When we got there, my witch had already changed her dress, and was waiting for us demurely in the neat dove-coloured gown and smooth white apron of the hospital nurses.

She looked even prettier and more meaningful so than in her ethereal outside summer-cloud muslin.
"Come over to this bed," she said at once to Travers and myself, without the least air of mystery.

"I will show you what I mean by it." "Nurse Wade has remarkable insight," Travers whispered to me as we went.
"I can believe it," I answered.
"Look at this woman," she went on, aside, in a low voice--"no, NOT the first bed; the one beyond it; Number 60.

I don't want the patient to know you are watching her.