Marion shrank back against the wall to give them a chance to pass her, and as she did so she overheard the house physician saying something to Miss Franklin. “It developed yesterday as she was coming up on the boat. I’ll have her transferred to Ward’s Island to-morrow.” “And meanwhile we’ll have all the other patients standing on their heads,” was Miss Franklin’s curt answer. “It seems to me that all the lunatics are brought straight to the ‘Medical’!” “Can’t help it this time,” said the doctor, smiling, “and you know you can manage her the best of any one, Miss Franklin.” The head nurse flushed at this genuine compliment. She was as conscientious as she was exacting, and such words were her recompense. For the next few minutes everything was in commotion, for with a sudden effort the new patient sprang from the orderly’s arms and, rushing the length of the ward, bounded up on a table which held some charts and glasses. “Quick! before she secures a weapon!” said the doctor to the orderly in a low, fierce tone. The orderly sprang forward, but he was a minute too late. The woman had snatched a couple of glasses and cracked them together. With a piece of jagged glass in each hand she stood, alert and waiting. Just at this very moment Marion took a step into the ward. She opened her eyes wider as she stared hard at the woman. “Come on, Sile, and I’ll finish you!” shrieked the poor, crazy woman defiantly. “Jest strike me ag’in, yer coward, an’ I’ll kill yer, Silas Johnson!” “My goodness! It is Sallie!” cried Marion with a gasp. “Oh, be careful of her, doctor! It is Sallie! Poor, dear Sallie.” Before Marion could say more Miss Franklin stood before her. “Hush! you simpleton!” she said, sternly. “Don’t you see what you are doing? Is it any reason because you know her that you should frighten all the patients!” “Oh, I’m so sorry,” cried Marion, who was scarlet with embarrassment. “I will not make another sound—only do let me go to her.” Miss Franklin smiled in a sarcastic way. “Certainly, go to her if you wish and quiet her if you can. She evidently takes the orderly for some other person.” “She thinks he is Silas Johnson, her husband,” said Marion, as she started down the ward. “Oh, can it be possible that this is poor Sallie!” “Don’t go near her yet, miss,” said the orderly, as Marion approached. “She’s ‘as mad as a March hare.’ She’d cut your face open with that glass in a minute. We’ve got to do a little planning to capture the lady.” Marion looked at Sallie as she crouched on the table. Her face was ashen, her eyes red and glaring, and her hair, which was always poor Sallie’s one beauty, fell in unkempt masses over her back and shoulders. Not once did she take her burning gaze from the face of the orderly, and fierce, undying hatred was stamped upon her features. “If you will only go away, I am sure I can calm her,” said Marion, bravely. “Sallie will not hurt me—even if she is crazy.”