The Pulaskian., 1917-06-29

ways. would rather be here than any where else in the world.' But he did not look at her. There was so much that was hopeless in his eyes that he did not want her to see.
 "In one way, 1t will be little bet ter for you than if Christine and Pal mer were not in the house. You like Christine, don't you?"
 "Very much"
 "She likes you, K. She depends on 1 you, too, especially since that night when you took care of Palmer's arm before we got Doctor Max. I often think, K., what a good doctor you would have been. You knew so we'll what to do for mother" She broke off. She still could not trust her voice about her mother.
 "Palmer's arm Is going to be quite straight. pr. Ed is so proud of Max over 1t. It was bad fracture" 1 He had been waiting for that. Once at least, whenever they were together, she brought Max into the conversation. She was quite unconscious of it.
 You and Max are great friends. I knew you would like him. He Is in- teresting, don't you think?"
 "Very," said K.
 To save his life, he could not put any warmth into his voice. He would be fair. It was not in human nature 10 expect more of him.
 "Those long talks you have, shut in your room-what in the world do you talk about? Poliucs?"
 Occasionally"
 She was little jealous of those eve nings, when she sat alone, or when Harriet, sitting with her, made sketches under the lamp to the accompaniment of a steady hum of masculine voices from across the hall. Not that she was ignored, of course. Max came in always, before he went, and, leaning over the back of chair, would inform her of the absolute blankness of life In the hospital without her.
 And K. would stand in the doorway, quietly smoking, or go back to his room and lock away in his trunk the great German books on surgery with which he and Max had been working out a case.
 So K. sat by the dining-room table and listened to her talk of Max that last evening together. When the bells announced midnight, Sidney reused with a start. She realized that for some time neither of them had spoken, land that Ks eyes were fixed on her. The little clock on the shelf took up the burden of the churches, and struck the hour in quick staccato notes.
 Sidney rose and went over to K, her black dress in soft folds about her.
 .'He is born, R."
 "He is born, dear."
 She stopped and kissed his cheek lightly.
 Christmas day dawned thick and white. Sidney left the little house at six, with the street light still burning through a mist of falling snow.
 The hospital wards and corridors were still lighted when she went on duty at seven o'clock. She had been assigned to the mems surgical ward, and went there at once. She had not seen Carlotta Harrison since her moth- er's death; but she found her on duty in the surgical ward. The older girl greeted her pleasantly.
 "We were all sorry to hear of your trouble" she said. T hope we shall get on nicely"
 Sidney surveyed the ward, full to overfowing. At the far end two cots had been placed.
 "The ward is heavy, isn't it?"
 "Very. I've been almost mad at dressing hour. There are three of us -you, myself and probationer."
 The first light of the Christmas morning was coming through the win dows. Carlotta put out the lights and turned in businesslike way to her records.
 '"The probationer's name is Ward welI," she said. Perhaps you'd better -