"Hardly more than a headache."
"She makes light of everything," Miss Filbert said, smiling toward
Alicia, who stood silent, the prey of her impression. Discovering the
blue salts bottle, Laura walked over to her and took it from her hands.
"And what," said the barefooted Salvation Army girl, "might your name
be?"
There was an infinite calm interest in it--it was like a conventionality
of the other world, and before its assurance Alicia stood helpless.
"Her name is Livingstone," called Hilda from the bed, "and she is as
good as she is beautiful. You needn't be troubled about _her_ soul--she
takes Communion every Sunday morning at the Cathedral."
"Hallelujah!" said Captain Filbert, in a tone of dubious congratulation.
"Much better," said Hilda, cheerfully, "to take it at the Cathedral, you
know, than nowhere."
Miss Filbert said nothing to this, but sat down upon the edge of the
bed, looking serious, and stroked Hilda's hair.
"You don't seem to have much fever," she said. "There was a poor fellow
in the Military Hospital this morning with a temperature of 107. I could
hardly bear to touch him."
"What was the matter?" asked Hilda idly, occupied with hypotheses about
the third person in the room.
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