“Who else in thunder should I mean? There is but one woman doctor in the world, so far as I know. Didn’t she find me in that infernal hole, wedged in it like a rat in a trap? And didn’t she patch my broken bones, like a trained physician, when there wasn’t a man in a hundred miles that could have done it?” “It is never wise to argue a point with a man in a fever, Mr. Burns. We can talk it out later on. See! Mamma has brought soap, fresh water, and towels. You couldn’t have a better nurse. You must let her bathe your face and hands and head.” “Won’t you take her place, Daphne?” Captain Ranger and Mrs. Benson were not listening or looking just then; and as for an instant their eyes met, the patient felt upon his fevered forehead the fluttering touch of a soft, cool hand. “Delicious!” he whispered. “I shall get well now.” “Allow me,” said Mrs. Benson, elbowing her daughter aside; “I am head nurse in this ward.” The patient groaned. “The Captain says you ought to have been a man, Daphne,” said Mrs. Benson, as her daughter yielded her place. “If my father had lived to see this day, he would have rejoiced that I didn’t allow my usefulness to run to waste because of my femininity. Of that I am as certain as that my patient is better.” “You are a disobedient and ungrateful girl, Daphne.” “You are my mamma.” “I am not to blame for that, Daphne.” “Am _I_?” asked the daughter, seriously. “I don’t pretend to understand, and so of course cannot explain the cause that leads to individual being, mamma dear. I know, though, that I am; and if the time should ever come that I can know why I am, I shall understand why I am a woman. I cannot now see that anybody is to be blamed on account of the fact, or accident, of sex.” “You are to blame for being a thankless child, Daphne.” “I am neither a child nor thankless, mamma dear. I simply desire to be and act myself. You know I love and honor you; but I have learned, by sad experience, that each human being exists primarily for himself or herself; and not one of us can live for another. If I had been taught this truth in my childhood, we might both have been spared much suffering. But”—turning to her patient—“we have other duties. Your fever has fallen several degrees in the past fifteen minutes. I must go. When you want to rail at anybody just pitch into me and let mamma have a rest. Jean will bring you some broth. I’ll send Mrs. O’Dowd to sit with you sometimes, to give mamma a little liberty. You two have been forced to keep each other’s company till you are both as cross as a pair of imprisoned cats.” “I believe I’ve been pursuing the wrong policy,” said Mrs. Benson to the Captain, as they walked together on the burning sand. “If Daphne had been compelled to endure that patient’s petulance for more than a week, as I have, she would have been as weary of the sight of him as I am.”