Page:The New Arcadia (Tucker).djvu/62



a moment the doctor stood on the threshold of the ward surveying the rows of white beds ranging on the polished floors. A few patients were sitting about talking quietly or reading, some lay in the beds asleep or suffering in silence—seeming to read their destinies on the high, white-washed ceiling. The neatest of nurses moved with softest tread as about a sanctuary consecrated by sorrow and death to resurrection and recovery.

"A good large cheque," the doctor mused, "drawn by the rich on account of their heavy indebtedness to the poor. Amongst the fairest fruits of our faith and civilization. What, in the place of temples such as these, would a wild commune set up? How would the poor and suffering fare if leaders of the mob were ministers of charity?" He shuddered at the thought.

"Well, Willie, and how's the leg?" inquired the