The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-03-23

| sible that 1 must leave! My thoughts were Interrupted by the doctor speak l ing again: 'NThe truth is we cannot 1 well spare you. The allies are expect ing heavy fighting in the course of the next ten days. You can go to Mile F. tomorrow, but you must be back here at the end of the week. "I do not know why, but his decision !, gave me the greatest relief, even more "a sense of acute pleasure. In the natural course of things it would be an hour or two before my duties would call me to Captain Fra | gers room. Generally the hours were never long enough to accomplish all that was to be done, but that day time scarcely passed-it fell drop by drop, laztly and heavily. But at last the mo ment came to go to him. x
 The afternoon was soft and warm We could hear the birds singing in the garden, and through the open window hoated the perfume ofSthe last autumn flowers, inspiring me with new emo ton, little like that of being afraid of oneself. To counteract this I kept saying over and over, F'To be effective your work must be calm and concor- dant, calm and sconcordant," re peated.
 Then I turned to him and said: ITO morrow I shall say goodby. I have been ordered to a typhoid hospital at one of the French bases''-
 He broke in, with a. wistful little smile in his eyes; "Please don't go. What will do without you? I have thought about 1t all so much as I have lain here hour after hour. That I am not dead and buried these weeks gone owe to you" There was moments pause, after which he added simply, Now and he emphasized the word, 1T can only thank you"
 .tNonsenser' I replied. When all is said and done it is nature that does the work"
 Perhaps" he answered, 'but in case like mine nature only does SO in conjunction with unremitting and skill fuI care'' Into his voice came a note new to nay ears. He went on speak ing saThat night-you know the night mean-when fl was just a toss up whether lived or dieds I think if one could know how much will power has to do with things, 1t would be found that lived Because in few lucid in-. terVals I realized the heroic fight you were putting up for me. and subcon- sciously my will went out to help you. For when one Is that near the other side, self, material things and interests count for little But now" and he looked out across the hills, crowned with purple shadows, realizing that on my life depends the happiness of my mother, my family, and that the, life of any man who has had a certain training in warfare is valuable to his country, I am deeply grateful to fate that am living-and fate in this case, my dear little nurse, means yon,ps he said tensely-
 That's a very pretty speech, I an swered lightly, and should so like to take it all to myself, but the very disillusioning fact remains that it was your subaltern''-
 without needing my words he inter- rupted:
 The disiIIusioning fact remains that you are going away and he look ed up at me with wide distraught eyes, and as he put out his hand and took mine I felt it tremble Don't go,'' he said. with a gesture of entreaty, and hastened to explain that it was only for few days, or a week at best, as I thought suddenly he looked not so well today and must not be worried by even trines.
 1T must go now,'' said. My other patients are needing me- and I hur- ried away toward the German ward. had taken only a few steps when he called me back.
 .1 only wanted to say that some day you will know-what you-your kind ness means to me-" he said gravely,
 ooking straight up into my eyes.
 A sudden wild desire to say some hing, I hardly know what, possessed
 ne. and a trembling I could not mas
 CT overcame me.
 .I am so glad have been able to e1p a little,'' stammered and ran uickly down the stairs.
 It was only when I reached the
 round floor that I remembered I had
 ot told him the story of how he came
 be at our hospital, but I resolved to it before left tomorrow.