“I shall try not to show my feelings,” said Marion, quickly. “I know that would be fatal to success, Miss Williams, but I am almost certain that I can never help feeling.” “Oh, but that is different,” was the cordial answer. “A nurse that cannot feel is a mere machine. She will do her work well, and to some patients this will be quite satisfactory, but to others, to the majority, sympathy is more than medicine. An encouraging word, or a kindly interest will heal the soul, which is often more stricken than the body. There is Katie B——,” she went on more softly. “Just see how that child hungers for a mother’s voice, yet she is a mother herself, the poor unfortunate. A nurse who would be cold to her would lose the child’s confidence altogether.” “I understand you perfectly,” said Marion, slowly. “A nurse in Charity Hospital has something to do besides make beds and give medicines. She has human hearts to cheer and strengthen. Oh, I hope I may be wise enough not to throw away my opportunity.” “You are doing nobly,” said Miss Williams, smiling. “I have seldom seen a ‘probationer’ take so kindly to her lot. Making beds and cleaning wards is not very pleasant work, but we all had to do it before we could wear strings to our aprons.” Both girls laughed pleasantly at this allusion to future honors, for even Marion had learned that a nurse’s highest ambition was to wear an honorable graduate’s cap and apron. “I shall be glad when my probation is ended,” said Marion, eagerly. “I do so want to wear the regulation uniform. Of course, I am willing to admit that I don’t like to do drudgery, but I remember that all have to start at the beginning, and it won’t be long before I can wield the temperature thermometer.” Miss Williams sighed, and her face saddened for a minute. “You will find that the responsibility has increased wonderfully by that time,” she said, slowly. “Sometimes I wish that I could always have been a ‘probationer.’” The girls were busy in the medicine-room of the ward as they talked. Miss Williams was getting out lint and bandages for a coming operation, while Marion was busy cleaning a number of surgical instruments. “I feel more like a scullery maid than I do like a nurse,” she said, laughing, as she carefully polished some knives and arranged them in the case. “There’s your bell,” said Miss Williams, quickly, as she heard a soft tinkle. Marion dropped her cloth and started toward her patient. “Miss Marlowe!” Miss Williams raised her voice, but spoke gently and pleasantly. “Please pick up your cloth and lay it on the table, then move swiftly, but more silently as you go to your patient!” She smiled as she spoke, and Marion nodded gratefully. “I see I am much too impulsive,” she said, regretfully. “Oh, will I ever learn to discipline my emotions?” “Of course you will,” said Miss Williams, as she passed out of the door. “You’ll learn anything that you wish to, Miss Marion Marlowe.”