used, until the building seemed to exhale pungent, wholesome, but unsavory odors; yet there was no abatement in the virulence of the type.  When the twenty-third case was entered on the hospital list, the trustees and inspectors determined to remove all who showed no symptom of the contagion, to an old, long-abandoned cotton factory several miles distant; where the vacant houses of former operatives would afford temporary shelter; and to diminish the chances of carrying infection, each prisoner was carefully examined by the attending physician, and then furnished with an entirely new suit of clothing.

When the nature of the epidemic could no longer be concealed from the inmates, instinctive horror drove them from the neighborhood of the victims, and like frightened sheep they huddled in remote corners, removed as far as possible from the infected precincts, and loath to minister to the needs of the sufferers.

Two men, and as many women, selected and detailed as nurses in their respective wards, openly rebelled; and while Doctor Moffat and Mr. Singleton were discussing the feasibility of procuring outside assistance, the door of the dispensary adjoining the hospital, opened, and Beryl walked up to the table, where medicines were weighed and mixed.

“Put me to work among the sick.  I want to help you.”

“You!  What could you do?  I should as soon take a magnolia blossom to scrub the pots and pans of a filthy kitchen,” answered the doctor, looking up over his spectacles from the powder he was grinding in a glass mortar.

“I can follow your directions; I can obey orders; and physicians deem that the sine qua non in nurses.  Closed lips, open ears, willing hands are supposed to outweigh any amount of unlicensed brains.  Try me.”

“No.  I am not willing.  Go back up-stairs, and stay there,” said the warden.

“Why may I not assist in nursing?”

“In the first place you are not fit to mix with those poor creatures, in yonder; their oaths would curdle your blood; and in the second, you are not strong, and would be sure to take the disease at once.”

“I am perfectly well; my lungs are now as healthy as yours, and I am not afraid of diphtheria.  You detailed nurses, who refused to serve; I volunteer; have you any right to reject me?”

“Yes, the right to protect and save your life, which is worth twenty of those already in danger,” replied Mr. Singleton, pausing in his task of filling capsules with quinine.

“Who made you a judge of the value of souls?  My life belongs first to God, who gave it, next to myself; and if I choose to jeopardize it, in work among my suffering comrades in disgrace, you must not usurp the authority to prevent me.”

“Has it become so intolerable that you desire to commit suicide, under the specious plea of philanthropic martyrdom?” said Doctor Moffat, whose keen black eyes scanned her closely, from beneath shaggy gray brows.