A Modern Miracle

She nodded again, sweetly serious.

Once more his accustomed bluntness of manner returned, and he snapped,
"Oh, why in the devil didn't I have sense enough to bring another
assistant?"

"I am here, doctor," answered the girl.

"Yes, yes, I know." He regarded her with the old, searching look. Then,
to the nurse, "It's only one of the many chances we have got to take.
When you put the patient under the anæsthetic you will show Rose exactly
how it is administered, for she will have to keep her unconscious
without any further aid from you after I begin to operate. We have _got_
to trust her, Miss Merriman," he added shortly, as he caught the
expression of grave doubt which the nurse could not keep from appearing
on her countenance. "See that she washes and sterilizes her hands
thoroughly. That hot water, Rose. I want a basinful."

She supplied it, then departed to do the rest of his bidding, and for
some moments was kept so busy that she did not realize what the other
two were doing at the bedside, other than to note that Donald had raised
the head of the bed by blocking up the legs with firelogs, and covered
it with a rubber sheet such as she had never seen before.

When she did, however, return to the side of the little sufferer, whose
face was far whiter than the clean, but coarse, sheet which covered the
emaciated body, a low cry of protest and grief was wrung from her lips.
Already most of the lovely ringlets of spun gold, which had won for the
baby Donald's characterization of "Little Buttercup," gleamed on the
rough floor, and the ruthless but necessary sacrifice was being
continued.