“I think,” said she, beaming in the direction of the Senior Surgeon, “that it would be perfectly wonderful to be the means of discovering some great new thing in surgery.  And as our own great surgeon has just said, it is really ridiculous to let a few perfectly incurable cases stand in the way of science.”

The House Surgeon looked from the beaming profile to the tense, drawn outline of mouth and chin belonging to the nurse in charge of Ward C, and he found himself wondering if art had ever pictured a crucified Madonna, and, if so, why it had not taken Margaret MacLean as a model.  That moment the President called his name.

[Illustration:  The House Surgeon looked from the beaming profile to the tense, drawn outline of mouth and chin belonging to the nurse in charge of Ward C.]

The House Surgeon was still young and unspoiled enough to blush whenever he was consulted.  Moreover, he hated to speak in public, knowing, as he did, that he lacked the cultured manner and the polished speech of the Senior Surgeon.  He always crawled out of it whenever he could, putting some one else more ready of tongue in his place.  He was preparing to crawl this time when another look at the white profile in front of him brought him to his feet.

“See here,” he burst out, bluntly, “we all know the chief is as clever as any surgeon in the country, and that he can do anything in the world he sets out to do, even to turning Saint Margaret’s into a surgical laboratory.  But you ought to stop him—­you’ve got to stop him—­that is your business as trustees of this institution.  We don’t need any more surgical laboratories just yet—­they are getting along fast enough at Rockefeller, Johns Hopkins, and the Mayo clinic.  What we scientific chaps need to remember—­and it ought to be hammered at us three times a day, and then some—­is that humanity was never put into the world for the sole purpose of benefiting science.  We are apt to forget this and get to thinking that a few human beings more or less don’t count in the face of establishing one scientific fact.”

He paused just long enough to snatch a breath, and then went racing madly on.  “Institutions are apt to forget that they are taking care of the souls and minds of human beings as well as their bodies.  It seems to me that the man who founded this hospital intended it for humane rather than scientific purposes.  His wishes ought to be considered now; and I wager he would say, if he were here, to let science go hang and keep the incurables.”

The House Surgeon sat down, breathing heavily and mopping his forehead.  It was the longest speech he had ever made, and he was painfully conscious of its inadequacy.  The Senior Surgeon excused himself and left the room, not, however, until he had given the House Surgeon a look pregnant with meaning; Saint Margaret’s would hardly be large enough to hold them both after the 30th of April.