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〃There was some 'grit' in that man；〃 said MacShaughnassy。
〃Yes；〃 added Jephson； 〃and wholesome wit also。〃
MacShaughnassy puffed a mouthful of smoke over a spider which was just about to kill a fly。 This caused the spider to fall into the river； from where a supper…hunting swallow quickly rescued him。
〃You remind me；〃 he said； 〃of a scene I once witnessed in the office of The Dailywell； in the office of a certain daily newspaper。 It was the dead season； and things were somewhat slow。 An endeavour had been made to launch a discussion on the question 'Are Babies a Blessing？' The youngest reporter on the staff； writing over the simple but touching signature of 'Mother of Six；' had led off with a scathing； though somewhat irrelevant； attack upon husbands； as a class； the Sporting Editor； signing himself 'Working Man；' and garnishing his contribution with painfully elaborated orthographical lapses； arranged to give an air of verisimilitude to the correspondence； while； at the same time； not to offend the susceptibilities of the democracy （from whom the paper derived its chief support）； had replied； vindicating the British father； and giving what purported to be stirring midnight experiences of his own。 The Gallery Man； calling himself； with a burst of imagination； 'Gentleman and Christian；' wrote indignantly that he considered the agitation of the subject to be both impious and indelicate； and added he was surprised that a paper holding the exalted； and deservedly popular； position of Theshould have opened its columns to the brainless vapourings of 'Mother of Six' and 'Working Man。'
〃The topic had； however； fallen flat。 With the exception of one man who had invented a new feeding…bottle； and thought he was going to advertise it for nothing； the outside public did not respond； and over the editorial department gloom had settled down。
〃One evening； as two or three of us were mooning about the stairs； praying secretly for a war or a famine； Todhunter； the town reporter； rushed past us with a cheer； and burst into the Sub… editor's room。 We followed。 He was waving his notebook above his head； and clamouring； after the manner of people in French exercises； for pens； ink； and paper。
〃'What's up？' cried the Sub…editor； catching his enthusiasm； 'influenza again？'
〃'Better than that！' shouted Todhunter。 'Excursion steamer run down； a hundred and twenty…five lives lostfour good columns of heartrending scenes。'
〃'By Jove！' said the Sub； 'couldn't have happened at a better time either'and then he sat down and dashed off a leaderette； in which he dwelt upon the pain and regret the paper felt at having to announce the disaster； and drew attention to the exceptionally harrowing account provided by the energy and talent of 'our special reporter。'〃
〃It is the law of nature；〃 said Jephson： 〃we are not the first party of young philosophers who have been struck with the fact that one man's misfortune is another man's opportunity。〃
〃Occasionally； another woman's；〃 I observed。
I was thinking of an incident told me by a nurse。 If a nurse in fair practice does not know more about human naturedoes not see clearer into the souls of men and women than all the novelists in little Bookland put togetherit must be because she is physically blind and deaf。 All the world's a stage； and all the men and women merely players； so long as we are in good health； we play our parts out bravely to the end； acting them； on the whole； artistically and with strenuousness； even to the extent of sometimes fancying ourselves the people we are pretending to be。 But with sickness comes forgetfulness of our part； and carelessness of the impression we are making upon the audience。 We are too weak to put the paint and powder on our faces； the stage finery lies unheeded by our side。 The heroic gestures； the virtuous sentiments are a weariness to us。 In the quiet； darkened room； where the foot…lights of the great stage no longer glare upon us； where our ears are no longer strained to catch the clapping or the hissing of the town； we are； for a brief space； ourselves。
This nurse was a quiet； demure little woman； with a pair of dreamy； soft gray eyes that had a curious power of absorbing everything that passed before them without seeming to look at anything。 Gazing upon much life； laid bare； had given to them a slightly cynical expression； but there was a background of kindliness behind。
During the evenings of my convalescence she would talk to me of her nursing experiences。 I have sometimes thought I would put down in writing the stories that she told me； but they would be sad reading。 The majority of them； I fear； would show only the tangled； seamy side of human nature； and God knows there is little need for us to point that out to each other； though so many nowadays seem to think it the only work worth doing。 A few of them were sweet； but I think they were the saddest； and over one or two a man might laugh； but it would not be a pleasant laugh。
〃I never enter the door of a house to which I have been summoned；〃 she said to me one evening； 〃without wondering； as I step over the threshold； what the story is going to be。 I always feel inside a sick…room as if I were behind the scenes of life。 The people come and go about you； and you listen to them talking and laughing； and you look into your patient's eyes； and you just know that it's all a play。〃
The incident that Jephson's remark had reminded me of； she told me one afternoon； as I sat propped up by the fire； trying to drink a glass of port wine； and feeling somewhat depressed at discovering I did not like it。
〃One of my first cases；〃 she said； 〃was a surgical operation。 I was very young at the time； and I made rather an awkward mistakeI don't mean a professional mistakebut a mistake nevertheless that I ought to have had more sense than to make。
〃My patient was a good…looking； pleasant…spoken gentleman。 The wife was a pretty； dark little woman； but I never liked her from the first； she was one of those perfectly proper； frigid women； who always give me the idea that they were born in a church； and have never got over the chill。 However； she seemed very fond of him； and he of her； and they talked very prettily to each othertoo prettily for it to be quite genuine； I should have said； if I'd known as much of the world then as I do now。
〃The operation was a difficult and dangerous one。 When I came on duty in the evening I found him； as I expected； highly delirious。 I kept him as quiet as I could； but towards nine o'clock； as the delirium only increased； I began to get anxious。 I bent down close to him and listened to his ravings。 Over and over again I heard the name 'Louise。' Why wouldn't 'Louise' come to him？ It was so unkind of herthey had dug a great pit； and were pushing him down into it… …oh！ why didn't she come and save him？ He should be saved if she would only come and take his hand。
〃His cries became so pitiful that I could bear them no longer。 His wife had gone to attend a prayer…meeting； but the church was only in the next street。 Fortunately； the day…nurse had not left the house： I called her in to watch him for a minute； and； slipping on my bonnet； ran across。 I told my errand to one of the vergers and he took me to her。 She was kneeling； but I could not wait。 I pushed open the pew door； and； bending down； whispered to her； 'Please come over at once； your husband is more delirious than I quite care about； and you may be able to calm him。'
〃She whispered back； without raising her head； 'I'll be over in a little while。 The meeting won't last much longer。'
〃Her answer surprised and nettled me。 'You'll be acting more like a Christian woman by coming home with me；' I said sharply； 'than by stopping here。 He keeps calling for you； and I can't get him to sleep。'
〃She raised her head from her hands： 'Calling for me？' she asked； with a slightly incredulous accent。
〃'Yes；' I replied； 'it has been his one cry for the last hour： Where's Louise； why doesn't Louise come to him。'
〃Her face was in shadow； but as she turned it away； and the faint light from one of the turned…down gas…jets fell across it； I fancied I saw a smile upon it； and I disliked her more than ever。
〃'I'll come back with you；' she said； rising and putting her books away； and we left the church together。
〃She asked me many questions on the way： Did patients； when they were delirious； know the people about them？ Did they remember actual facts； or was their talk mere incoherent rambling？ Could one guide their thoughts in any way？
〃The moment we were inside the door； she flung off her bonnet and cloak； and came upstairs quickly and softly。
〃She walked to the bedside； and stood looking down at him； but he was quite unconscious of her presence； and continued muttering。 I suggested that she should speak to him； but she said she was sure it would be useless； and drawing a chair back into the shadow； sat down beside him。
〃Seeing she was no good to him； I tried to persuade her to go to bed； but she said she would rather stop； and I； being little more than a girl then； and without much authority； let her。 All night long he tossed and raved； the one name on his lips be