One of the old patients, an engine-stoker, went often to see her after his day’s work was done. He had been twice in the hospital under her care, and he said, “I could not tell you all her goodness to me, words would fail me if I tried.” She was full of courage and joy in her work, and wrote to a friend: “You must not fret. I rejoice that He has permitted one so unworthy to work for Him; and oh, if He should think me fit to lay down my life for Him, rejoice, rejoice, at so great a privilege.” Even her sense of fun did not leave her, and she wrote a long letter to her old patients at the Cottage Hospital, calling them all by their nicknames and sending messages to each. She said of a boy who was her special slave: “What shall I say to my beloved Sam. I wish I had my boy here. I send him twenty kisses and hope he has been in church to-day and in time. He must not sulk all the time I am away. I have two blessed babies, who alternately keep up music all day and night, accompanied by an Irishwoman’s tongue, so I am not dull. Have you been singing to-day? You must sing particularly, ‘Safe in the arms of Jesus’ and think of me. Living or dying, I am His. Oh, my children, you all love me for the very little I do for you; but oh, if you would only think what Jesus has done, and is doing for you, your hearts would soon be full of love for Him, and you would all choose Him for your Master.” Towards the middle of May, the Smallpox Hospital was empty and she hoped soon to leave; but before she was ready to go new patients were brought in, and this happened several times, so that it was not till the middle of August, after six months’ work at the Smallpox Hospital, that she was able to close it.