“It doesn’t surprise me that a Yankee gove’nment has no use fo’ women,” observed Celia.

“Hush, dear.  That kind of comment won’t do.  Besides, some horrid stories were afloat about some of the nurses not being all they ought to be.”

“That sounds ve’y Yankee, too!”

“Celia!  And perhaps it was true that one or two among thousands might not have been everything they should have been,” admitted Ailsa, loyal to her government in everything.  “And perhaps one or two soldiers were insolent; but neither Letty Lynden nor I have ever heard one unseemly word from the hundreds and hundreds of soldiers we have attended, never have had the slightest hint of disrespect from them.”

“They certainly do behave ve’y well,” conceded Celia, brushing away vigorously.  “They behave like our Virginians.”

Ailsa laughed, then, smiling reflectively, glanced at her hand which still bore the traces of a healed scar.  Celia noticed her examining the slender, uplifted hand, and said: 

“You promised to tell me how you got that scar, Honey-bud.”

“I will, now—­because the man who caused it has gone North.”

“A—­man!”

“Yes, poor fellow.  When the dressings were changed the agony crazed him and he sometimes bit me.  I used to be so annoyed,” she added mildly, “and I used to shake my forefinger at him and say, ‘Now it’s got to be done, Jones; will you promise not to bite me.’  And the poor fellow would promise with tears in his eyes—­and then he’d forget—­poor boy——­”

“I’d have slapped him,” said Celia, indignantly.  “What a darling you are, Ailsa! . . .  Now bundle into bed,” she added, “because you haven’t any too much time to sleep, and poor little Letty Lynden will be half dead when she comes off duty.”

Letty really appeared to be half dead when she arrived, and bent wearily over the bed where Ailsa now lay in calm-breathing, rosy slumber.

“Oh, you sweet thing!” she murmured to herself, “you can sleep for two hours yet, but you don’t know it.”  And, dropping her garments from her, one by one, she bathed and did up her hair and crept in beside Ailsa very softly, careful not to arouse her.

But Ailsa, who slept lightly, awoke, turned on her pillow, passed one arm around Letty’s dark curls.

“I’ll get up,” she said drowsily.  “Why didn’t Flannery call me?”

“You can sleep for an hour or two yet, darling,” cooed Letty, nestling close to her.  “Mrs. Craig has taken old Bill Symonds, and they’ll be on duty for two hours more.”

“How generous of Celia—­and of old Symonds, too.  Everybody seems to be so good to me here.”

“Everybody adores you, dear,” whispered Letty, her lips against Ailsa’s flushed cheek.  “Don’t you know it?”

Ailsa laughed; and the laugh completed her awakening past all hope of further slumber.

“You quaint little thing,” she said, looking at Letty.  “You certainly are the most engaging girl I ever knew.”