* * * * * At one time Sister Warwick had found it hard to be as careful and tender with these--pity she never failed in. But one day the thought came to her that perhaps these poor souls were included in "the least of these My brethren"--that perhaps these words might mean sometimes those farthest removed from Him. After that the work for them was infinitely easier. At one o'clock she was in her own room again, to find someone waiting for her there--a young student. His hands were loaded with "a sight for sair een"--a great bunch of buttercups and grasses. "My mother is up in town to-day, Sister," he said, "and she asked me to bring these to you. They were picked only this morning and so are not at all battered, as you see." "They are delightful; a real bit of the country for my poor 'children' to feast their eyes on." Sister stretched out her hand for the golden posy, then an instinct prompted her to look more directly at the boy's face. His mother was her friend; she had promised to be an elder sister to this only son of hers, and she saw that her elder-sisterliness was wanted now. She gave it--how wisely and strongly, yet tenderly, the young doctor only knew. It was a crisis in his career. He was afraid! How could he go on with the seeming inconsistencies that thronged him in his work? and there were other things. Well, gradually it all came out. Somehow Sister Warwick understood, and she helped him to sort apparent contradictions and to smooth or explain difficulties. Not all, of course not! There must remain unfathomed mysteries in every profession. But he went away with a new light on his young face, and Sister Warwick with a sigh--not of regret but of humility--turned to her little table and her waiting lunch. She glanced up at the clock. Why, her half-hour had gone! The consulting physician might be here at any moment. She must put on a clean cap and apron and be ready. This done, there was left just time for a few mouthfuls of ham and bread and for a draught of milk, then the probationer's voice at her door was saying-- "Dr. W---- is here, please, Sister." There was less for the doctors to do that day than usual, and it was not later than half-past two when, in bonnet and cloak, Sister Warwick began the little programme she had made for these "off hours." Passing through the hospital gates, she took her way eastward until she reached the entrance to Pleasant Court. Alas! Was there ever such a misnomer? Insanitary, overcrowded, stifling, filthy, she wondered how any could live in such an atmosphere, and thought with pity of that poor ex-patient she had come to see, who had begged to come back here--"because it was home"--to die! She climbed up the creaking stairs to an attic room, and her gentle tap was answered by a weak "Come in, please." It was good to see how the wan face of the sick woman lit up at sight of her visitor, and to hear the glad "Oh, Sister, is it you?"