The woman wants water; she has wakened the other women--they want
water. When silence again comes back into the ward, one notes
instinctively the vivid colouring of the two big blue windows at the far
end, the long lines of beds disappearing into the darkness, the dim
light of the lantern on the table showing up the cheap clock and a few
flowers. The intensity of light upon this clock is only equalled by the
intensity of one's thoughts upon the clock. The minute-hand drags on as
though it were weary with the day's work. A groan ticks off the quarters
and cries for water or milk the half-hours. At last one o'clock. Time
for a midnight meal. Eggs and cocoa hurriedly eaten without appetite in
the kitchen, but breaking the monotony. Back to the ward again, one of
the patients very restless, in great pain. Poor fellow, he has had a
long and hard time of it, fifteen months in bed and all due to early
neglect.
"Sestra," he says, "sestra," and holds out a handkerchief heavy with
coin. "Tell the doctor to take me down to the operating-room and cure me
or not let me wake up.
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