At the sound of voices below they both scrambled to their feet. Dr. Adair and the man from the yards came hurriedly up the steps together, the former drawing off his gloves as he came. He was a compact, elderly man whose keen observant eyes swept the room and its occupants at a glance. He listened to Nance's broken recital of what had happened, cut her short when he had obtained the main facts, and proceeded to examine the patient. "The worst injury is evidently to the right arm and shoulder; you'll have to help me get his shirt off. No--not that way!" Dan's hands, so eager to serve, so awkward in the service, fumbled over their task, eliciting a groan from the unconscious man. "Let me do it!" cried Nance, springing forward. "You hold him up, Dan, I can get it off." "It's a nasty job," warned the doctor, with a mistrustful glance at the youthful, tear-stained face. "It may make you sick." "What if it does?" demanded Nance, impatiently. It was a long and distressing proceeding, and Dan tried not to look at her as she bent in absorbed detachment over her work. But her steady finger-touch, and her anticipation of the doctor's needs amazed him. It recalled the day at the factory, when she, little more than a child herself, had dressed the wounds of the carrying-in boy. Once she grew suddenly white and had to hurry to the door and let the wind blow in her face. He started up to follow her, but changed his mind. Instead he protested with unnecessary vehemence against her resuming the work, but she would not heed him. "That's right!" said the doctor, approvingly. "Stick it out this time and next time it will not make you sick. Our next move is to get him home. Where does he live?" "In Calvary Alley," said Dan, "back of the cathedral." "Very good," said the doctor, "I'll run him around there in my machine as soon as that last hypodermic takes effect. Any family?" Dan shook his head. "He has, too!" cried Nance. "We're his family!" The doctor shot an amused glance at her over his glasses; then he laid a kindly hand on her shoulder. "I congratulate him on this part of it. You make a first class little nurse." "Is he going to get well?" Nance demanded. "It is too early to say, my dear. We will hope for the best. I will have one of the doctors come out from the hospital every day to see him, but everything will depend on the nursing." Nance cast a despairing look at the bandaged figure on the floor; then she shot a look of entreaty at Dan. One showed as little response to her appeal as the other. For a moment she stood irresolute; then she slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her. For a moment Dan did not miss her. When he did, he left Dr. Adair in the middle of a sentence and went plunging down the steps in hot pursuit. "Nance!" he called, splashing through the mud. "Aren't you going to say good-by?" She wheeled on him furiously, a wild, dishevelled, little figure, strung to the breaking point: