weakly. "I'm not afraid of that. It's the job—the money. I need it so. Oh, please—don't bother. I can take off my own shoes." [Pg 12] [Pg 12] "Keep still," ordered Mary. "We'll have the doctor very soon." "Doctor!" moaned the patient. "That's more money." "Stop talking about money. Be quiet. Would you like a drink of water?" When Mary returned with a glass she found her patient sitting up, staring at her with frightened eyes that were luminous with fever. "I've got to talk about money!" she exclaimed. "Why, I haven't even five dollars to my name." "There, there, my dear," said Mary. "Don't let it worry you. Neither have I." It had cost her nearly three dollars to pay the restaurant check and the taxi-driver, but that pang had passed. She was amazed at her own indifference. "But, don't you understand? I'm going to be sick—sick! And who's going to pay for it all? I won't be a charity patient; I won't go to a hospital. And my job! I've been trying so long and—and just when I get one—such a wonderful chance—I—oh, it's going to drive me mad, I tell you." "Never mind; there'll be other chances. Perhaps the lady will wait. Drink your water." But Miss Norcross pushed the glass aside. "Jobs never wait," she moaned. "People always have to wait for jobs. That's what I've been doing, and now—now—oh, isn't it simply fiendish? And my head aches so!" "Of course, dear. But never mind. I'll see you through. Perhaps I'll get a job myself, and——" The sick girl gripped Mary's arm tensely. [Pg 13] [Pg 13]
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