"Well, what are you going to do about it?" demanded Dr. Race briskly.

"Got anything tangible to work upon?"

"I happen to know that the bishop will give us his heartiest co-operation," Dr. Shumway answered. "We must confer with him and plan a state-wide campaign. We've simply _got_ to have that addition."

"Then it's to be the same old song and dance?" inquired Dr. Rosencrans in deep disgust. "We'll send out a professional beggar to the different churches of the state, and then sit back and wait for the money to roll in?"

"What is your plan?" quietly asked Dr. Shumway, but in such a tone that Peace, straining to catch every word, fairly jumped from her cot, and wondered whether there was to be a fight.

"I have none," was the sulky reply, "but I'm tired of this lemon-squeezing farce. We can never raise a thousand dollars, let alone seventy-five thousand."

"I suggest that we take twenty-four hours to think on this thing before we make any decisions," suggested Dr. Race in soothing tones. "It is too important a question to settle without considerable thought."

"Good idea," seconded another voice, and after a brief parley as to their next meeting, the group of physicians just outside Peace's door dispersed about their various duties.

But they had left the brown-eyed maid much food for thought. Some of their conversation had puzzled her, but she gathered from their remarks that an addition to the hospital had become necessary, and for some reason seemed un.o.btainable, except by appealing to the churches for the money to build, which the doctors seemed loath to do.

"I'll ask Gail, she'll know," Peace promised herself, when she found that she could not untangle the puzzling questions without further explanation.

So when Gail entered the white room that afternoon, the small sister was ready with an avalanche of queries. "Why ain't the hospital big enough as 'tis? What do they need an _edition_ for? Why won't Robinson Danbury give them any money, and why do they think he ought to? What's the matter with the churches and how do they bleed to death?"

Gail stopped short in her tracks. "Why, girlie!" she cried apprehensively, noting the scarlet flush on the thin cheeks, "what do you mean? What is the matter? Have you been dreaming? What are you talking about?"

So Peace told her of the conference held that morning just outside her door, and Gail listened attentively, surprised that the small maid should display such interest in a question supposed to concern only her elders.

"What's all the fuss about?" Peace asked a second time before Gail could decide whether or not it would be advisable to try to explain.

"Well," she said at length, "it happens that this is the only hospital in the state which belongs to our church,--that is, to our denomination, you understand. A man by the name of John Danbury planned and built it with his own money, and gave it to the church with the understanding that it was to be supported by our people. His plan was to have the hospital take only poor patients, but even with the church's help they couldn't anywhere nearly pay their way when they did that, and they have had to accept pay patients almost entirely. So rather than give up this pet idea of his, Mr. Danbury decided to build an addition just for charity cases. But he died without a will,--that is, without anything to show how he wanted his money spent, and his son, Robson, got it all. The son was hurt in a railroad accident about a month ago, and was brought here to be treated. Up to that time, he had absolutely refused to give the Hospital Board a dollar toward carrying out his father's wishes, although he himself knew what the plans had been. But while he was here, he sort of changed his mind. I suppose he had never before realized how many people a hospital reaches; and he hinted that perhaps after all he might do a _little_ to help the Board build its addition. The committee was to visit him this morning and get his definite answer, but last night some cats got to squalling in the court under his window, and--"

"I know," Peace interrupted. "It sounded, like a baby. I started Miss Hays off to find out who it was."

"Well, it bothered the nurses who were off duty, too, and finally Miss Gee could stand it no longer, so she deluged the cats with a pitcher of water,--"

"Yes, and some of it landed on the sill just under her window, and spattered a sick man inside. Mercy! how he swore!"

"And that sick man was Robson Danbury."

"Goodness gracious!" gasped Peace. "No wonder he won't build any more hospital."

"It is such a pity to act so childish about it."

"I s'pose it does seem so to everyone else, but just s'posing _you_ had got settled comfortable on a _boiling_ hot night, and someone spilled water all over you. How would you like it?"

"But it was purely an accident, Peace."

"Accidents don't always make a fellow feel nice," the child a.s.serted.

"And the committee oughtn't to have visited him just after he got half drowned. They might have known he'd be ugly."

"They knew nothing whatever of the accident until he told them. It seems that even Miss Gee herself did not realize that anything but the cats had been soaked, He was so angry that he refused to stay here any longer, and as soon as he could get his clothes on, the ambulance took him home. It is such a shame, for the hospital does need more room so badly, and now--"

"'F I was the hospital, I'd just show him that I could build all the rooms I wanted to without any of his old money."

"O, they intend to try to raise seventy-five thousand dollars by subscriptions from the churches. That was decided today. But it will be a hard job."

"Who's going to do it?"

"Do what?"

"Why, the work, of course. You said it would be a hard job."

"O, they mean to open the campaign next Sunday in Martindale, and the bishop is to preach the first sermon. After that, Rev. Mr. Murdock will do most of the preaching. He is secretary of the Hospital a.s.sociation, you know."

"Is the bishop to preach in _our_ church?"

"Yes."

"And take up a collection?"

"A subscription one."

"And I won't be there! Why couldn't they wait till I got home?"

"They must begin at once, dear, if they hope to raise such a great sum before Conference."

"What's the difference between a collection and a _perscription_?"

"_Sub_scription, child. Well--er--we take up collections every Sunday in our regular services, but a subscription gives the people a longer time to pay what they have promised."

The conversation turned to other subjects, but had Gail only known it, the busy brain under the curly brown thatch was puzzling over ways and means of taking part in that important subscription when she was miles away and absolutely bankrupt. She had given her last mite to help purchase a typewriter for her little author lady.

But while the nurse was making her ready for the night, a sudden thought came to her, and holding up the slender finger on which gleamed her birthday ring, one of her most prized possessions, she asked, "How much do rings cost, Miss Keith?"

"Rings like yours?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not much of a judge of jewelry, but I should say that was worth maybe ten or fifteen dollars. That stone looks like a real ruby."

"'Tis a real ruby, though 'tain't very big."

"I never owned but one ring in my life, and that was a plain band. I don't know anything about precious stones, but no doubt your ring cost a pretty penny."

When she had gone on to her next charge, Peace sat warily up in bed, s.n.a.t.c.hed paper and pencil from the stand close by and scribbled a brief and hurried note, which read:

"Deer Bishup,--I can't be at church Sunday when you take up a subscription to build some more Danbury Hospittle, cause I am in the hospittle myself, and I have spent all my money. Nurse says my ruby ring which Grandpa gave me on my last birthday cost as much as 10 or 15 dolars; so I am sending my ring for your collection. You can sell it to some honest jueler and give the Money to the hospittle. It has been worn only a little while for my birthday was New Years, and I've been in the hospittle ever since, so the ring is reely as good as new. I would sell it myself if I could get out but I can't.

Yours truly, PEACE GREENFIELD."