![]() “I’ve come from an over-Sunday at the beach with two of the other nurses, and I’m on my way back to the Sanatorium now. “Yes, it’s Della,” smiled that young woman, blithely, already halfway across the room. “You dear girl, where did you come from?” “Haven’t I–Oh, Della!” The voice grew suddenly warm with love and surprise. “Well, Mary,” answered a “dear-me-what-now” voice. In the hall above Della Wetherby unhesitatingly walked toward a half-open door, and knocked. “Y-yes, ma’am but–that is, she said–” Miss Wetherby, however, was already halfway up the broad stairway and, with a despairing backward glance, the maid turned away. Don’t worry–I’ll take the blame,” she nodded, in answer to the frightened remonstrance in the girl’s eyes. “Did she? Well, I’m no one,” smiled Miss Wetherby, “so she’ll see me. ![]() ![]() Carew is in,” hesitated the girl “but–she gave orders she’d see no one.” Even her voice, as she greeted the maid that opened the door, vibrated with the joy of living. From the tip of her wing-trimmed hat to the toe of her low-heeled shoe she radiated health, capability, and alert decision. ![]() Della Wetherby tripped up the somewhat imposing steps of her sister’s Commonwealth Avenue home and pressed an energetic finger against the electric-bell button. ![]()
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