CHAPTER VII. THE GOAL IN SIGHT. At 6 o’clock on Sunday morning, Sept. 25, the nurses pulled the covering from my bed. “Come, it’s time for you to get out of bed,” they said, and opened the window and let in the cold breeze. My clothing was then returned to me. After dressing I was shown to a washstand, where all the other patients were trying to rid their faces of all traces of sleep. At 7 o’clock we were given some horrible mess, which Mary told us was chicken broth. The cold, from which we had suffered enough the day previous, was bitter, and when I complained to the nurse she said it was one of the rules of the institution not to turn the heat on until October, and so we would have to endure it, as the steam-pipes had not even been put in order. The night nurses then, arming themselves with scissors, began to play manicure on the patients. They cut my nails to the quick, as they did those of several of the other patients. Shortly after this a handsome young doctor made his appearance and I was conducted into the sitting-room. “Who are you?” he asked. “Nellie Moreno,” I replied. “Then why did you give the name of Brown?” he asked. “What is wrong with you?” “Nothing. I did not want to come here, but they brought me. I want to go away. Won’t you let me out?” “If I take you out will you stay with me? Won’t you run away from me when you get on the street?” “I can’t promise that I will not,” I answered, with a smile and a sigh, for he was handsome. He asked me many other questions. Did I ever see faces on the wall? Did I ever hear voices around? I answered him to the best of my ability. “Do you ever hear voices at night?” he asked. “Yes, there is so much talking I cannot sleep.” “I thought so,” he said to himself. Then turning to me, he asked: “What do these voices say?” “Well, I do not listen to them always. But sometimes, very often, they talk about Nellie Brown, and then on other subjects that do not interest me half so much,” I answered, truthfully. “That will do,” he said to Miss Scott, who was just on the outside. “Can I go away?” I asked. “Yes,” he said, with a satisfied laugh, “we’ll soon send you away.” “It is so very cold here, I want to go out,” I said. “That’s true,” he said to Miss Scott. “The cold is almost unbearable in here, and you will have some cases of pneumonia if you are not careful.”