"I have said the wrong word," lamented the other. "Nervous,--zat,--that
is the word."
"They're not very lovely things to look at," said Percival. "All
red and blistery and greasy. Miss Clinton is a regular heroine to
tackle 'em."
"I have witnessed some very terrible sights, Mr. Percival," said the
Russian, her eyes narrowing. "Have you ever seen a little Jewish
girl,--but no, Mademoiselle, no! I have catch the look in your eyes.
I shall not tell you what I have seen. Go on! I shall be silent
and take my first lesson."
Closely, intently she watched the process. When it was all over and
the bottle containing ointment had been restored to the patient's
pocket, she spread out her hands and exclaimed:
"It is not difficult. May I inquire where the gauze bandages are
to be obtained, Miss Clinton? And do you always use the same safety
pins?"
She arose early the next morning. Rousing her maid, she ordered
her to apply to the ship's surgeon for bandages and to fetch them
to her at once.
"I know,--yes, I know. You are dying, but do as I tell you. This
instant! Why should you, a great hulking beast of a woman, be dying
every minute of the day while I, not half your size, am tingling
all over with life? Go!"
"But, Madame," groaned the wretched woman, rolling her eyes, "I
shall be dashed to pieces against the walls.
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