Ida lay down, her eyes filled with tears, her heart filled with awe and
wonder. Perhaps for the first time in her life she understood what
charity meant. Here was a waif of the slums, doomed to die in so many
weeks, and yet it was the object of the loving devotion of every nurse
in the ward, with every comfort and luxury which an age of civilisation
could supply, and the recipient of the enthusiastic attention of a
great surgeon whose name was famous throughout the world.
The woman in the next bed was crying too.
"It makes you think of 'eaven, don't it, miss," she said, with a sniff.
"If I was rich I'd leave all my money to a 'orspital; that I would!"
The speech suddenly reminded Ida of her own poverty, of which she had
not thought very much, for the need of money is not very keenly felt in
a hospital ward, where everything is "free, gratis, for nothing." The
time came when she was permitted to get up, and nothing could exceed
her amazement on finding herself so weak that her legs trembled under
her, and the walls and the floor seemed to rock and heave; but in a day
or two she was able to walk a little, and she at once begged permission
to help nurse the baby.
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