“After all such glorious 'outs' I have to go 'in' to the hospital, and then comes my fit again. Do you remember my little boy who said he was going to the angels, and he would get lots of gristly pork up there? He has gone, and I don't think I like nursing children now. Oh, how I long to go out into the world! I want to shine in it. I want to become great and glorious. I could do it too, I know I could. I have got it in me, I am sure I have. Yet here I am in a little dark corner crying for the sunshine! “How silly this is, isn't it? It sounds like madness. My dears, allow me to introduce you to some one-- “Glory Quayle, 'March Hare and Madwoman.'” XVII. The board room of the hospital of Martha's Vineyard was a large and luxurious chamber, with an oval window at its farther end, and its two side walls panelled with portraits of former chairmen and physicians. In great oaken armchairs, behind ponderous oaken tables, covered with green cloth and furnished with writing pads, the Board of Governors sat in three sides of a square, leaving an open space in the middle. This open space was reserved for patients seeking admission or receiving discharge, and for officers of the hospital presenting their weekly reports. On a morning in August the matron's report had closed with a startling item. It recommended the immediate suspension of a nurse on the ground of gross impropriety of conduct. The usual course in such a case was for the board of the hospital to depute the matron to act for them in private, but the chairman in this instance was a peppery person, with a stern mouth and a solid under-jaw. “This is a most serious matter,” he said. “I think--this being a public institution--I really think the board should investigate the case for itself. We ought to assure ourselves that--that, in fact, no other irregularity is going on in the hospital.” “May it please your lordship,” said a rotund voice from, one of the side tables, “I would suggest that a case like this of grievous moral delinquency comes directly within the dispensation of the chaplain, and if he has done his duty by the unhappy girl (as no doubt he has) he must have a statement to make to the board with regard to her.” It was Canon Wealthy. “I may mention,” he added, “that Mr. Storm has now returned to his duties, and is at present in the hospital.” “Send for him,” said the chairman. When John Storm entered the board room it was remarked that he looked no better for his holiday. His cheeks were thinner, his eyes more hollow, and there was a strange pallor under his swarthy skin. The business was explained to him, and he was asked if he had any statement to make with regard to the nurse whom the matron had reported for suspension. “No,” he said, “I have no statement.”