England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Sisters -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Yet poor Annie had no light apprenticeship to serve. The programme,
which extends from making poultices and making beds to receiving
doctors' instructions, understanding them, remembering them, and acting
on them, is neither short nor easy, though a fairly good and trained
intellect and an unswerving devotion to duty will get through it
triumphantly in time. Annie underwent the entire ordeal, while she
doubtless brought a little additional intelligence and capacity and a
few more grains of experience to the task than would have existed if she
had not been Dr. Millar's daughter. In spite of the warm woollen jacket
and cuffs which she wore under her linen gown, her little hands were
covered with the chaps and chilblains which are the scourge of
maids-of-all-work, because of their early rising, hard scrubbing, and
the frequency with which their fingers are wet and dried on chill winter
mornings. Her legs ached, as they had never ached after a night's
dancing, with being on her feet all day long, and day after day,
waiting on her patients and attending on the sisters who were placed
over the respective wards. Her mind, too, was kept on the stretch with
the serious charge of pulses and temperatures, with the grave
responsibility of shelves on shelves of medicine bottles, with acquiring
the best modes of bandaging, fomenting, bleeding, stopping the flow of
blood, so that during the little leisure she had she could not turn to a
book for relief; she fell asleep with sheer fatigue more frequently.
Annie was too high-spirited and independent to feel the loneliness of
her position among strangers, whom she soon converted into friendly
acquaintances, if nothing more, as many a girl--as Dora, for
instance--would have done. But, accustomed as Annie had been all her
life to much closer and warmer relations, she clung to the presence of
Rose in London; and it was a proof of how much the elder sister was used
up, when, even on her days and hours for getting out, it was often with
difficulty that she could bring herself to go and see Rose, or to meet
and walk a portion of the way with her on Rose's progress from Mrs.
Jennings's boarding-house to the Misses Stone's school, where she taught
drawing, or to Mr. St. Foy's art classes, where she learned it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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