THE DOCTOR. That is very interesting, how do you suppose they found that out? How do they know, I mean? THE LADY. Doctor, I didn’t tell her that. THE DOCTOR. Didn’t you? She seems strangely excited. (He seats himself by the bed.) Come child, let’s talk about it. (He motions—to the nurse that she is not needed. She goes out. The Salvation Army Lassie, makes an awkward little bow and gets herself out. The Lady stands at the foot of the bed listening for a few moments, then slips quietly out.) THE DOCTOR. Now, tell me what is on your mind, but try and stop crying and speak plainly, for I want to understand what you say. THE GIRL. I’m gona die, aint I? THE DOCTOR. Yes. THE GIRL. When? THE DOCTOR. I don’t know. THE GIRL. _Soon?_ THE DOCTOR. Yes. THE GIRL. How soon? Tomorrow? THE DOCTOR. No, not tomorrow. Perhaps in a month, perhaps longer. THE GIRL. Will I get sorry ’fore I go? THE DOCTOR. How can I tell? But what does it matter? Why do you want to be sorry especially? What good would it do? It is all passed, isn’t it? Nothing can change that. THE GIRL. But I gotta be—to get in. THE DOCTOR. You seem very sure on that point. THE GIRL. But everybody says I gotta be. THE DOCTOR. What is the use saying it or thinking it when nobody knows? THE GIRL. What you sayin’? THE DOCTOR. You and I can believe differently if we want to. But why in the world should you be asking me all these hard questions? I’ve never been to Heaven have I? I don’t know whether you have to be sorry to get in or not. How do you suppose _they_ found all that out? THE GIRL. But aint I gotta be punished somewhere till I git sorry? THE DOCTOR. Do you remember the other night when the pain was so bad? THE GIRL. Yep. THE DOCTOR. And I told you you would have to bear it, that I could do nothing for you, and that you must be quiet not to disturb the others? THE GIRL. Oh, don’t I remember! THE DOCTOR. I guess that’s about enough punishment for one little girl. You’ve been pretty unhappy lately, haven’t you, with the pain and the terrible thoughts? I think it’s about time something else turned up for you that would be nicer, don’t you? THE GIRL. Turned up? THE DOCTOR. Yes, something that would make up for all this. Do you know, child, as I’ve gone through these wards day after day ’tending to all you sick folks, I’ve about come to the conclusion that there must be—something nicer— THE GIRL. Tell me more about it.