Nurse with a Dream by Norrey Ford

truly.”
    “No, I’m not sending you away, though if your people were in England I should certainly send you home to convalesce. But to France—no, the journey would be a strain. Have you any friends or relations who could take you for a week or so?”
    “I don’t know of anyone, Matron. I haven’t been here long enough to make friends.”
    “What about your cousin? Could they possibly take you at the farm? I’ll speak to Sister.”
    This seemed Greek to Jacqueline, but she said meekly, “Thank you, Matron. It is kind of you.”
    “Kind? Naturally I am concerned for your welfare, Nurse.”
    After Matron’s departure, Bridget popped up from under her blankets like a rabbit out of a hole. “Whew! I pretended to be asleep, but I heard the lot. You’ll be for it, my girl, when you get up. You went off alone, hiking or something, didn’t you? Of all the crazy ideas! She’ll have you in her room for that, in a clean apron, see if she doesn’t!”
    “She seemed kind and very concerned.”
    “You bet she is! Don’t you realise this may be a scandal, and on the fair name of St. Simon’s, too. The old girl is in a wax. What did she mean, cousin?”
    “I haven’t the faintest idea. Bridie, do you realise I’ve lost a whole week-end out of my life and no one will tell me where it went? After all, someone must know! If I came in an ambulance, someone called it. Perhaps I was in a road accident?”
    “You poor crittur! I never thought of it like that. You must be desperate to know. Listen, have you ever heard of a place called Black Crag?”
    “Never. At least—well, no.”
    “Whether or no t , you fell off it. You were found at the foot of it with your head all blood, by a certain person—naming no names—who went there to look for you, expecting to find your bleeding corpse at the bottom. And there you were—except you weren’t a corpse. You were carried two miles across heather to a road where the ambulance was waiting for you ... Jacky, I’ve got it! Your dream—heather!”
    “Heather? It could be. Yes, why not?”
    “So that part wasn’t a dream. And the man?”
    “He was definitely a dream.” Jacky closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, because the exciting thought had come to her that if the heather was real, the man might be real too. And if so, she wasn’t going to discuss him with Bridget O’Hara ... because she had liked this man very much.
    It seemed that Dr. Parsons was satisfied with Jacqueline’s X-rays and her general progress, because the next day she was allowed to sit up. He was a stout, fair man with a neighing laugh and a passion for growing irises, which he managed to do nearly all the year round.
    “Well, Nurse, I think we shall rear you. Nothing broken, but you had a nasty fall and you must go steady.”
    “When may I return to duty, Doctor?”
    He neighed with laughter. “When I say. Not yet. Go home for a couple of weeks. Oh—you can’t, can you? Don’t you live in France or somewhere? Well, the almoner will find somewhere for you, if you haven’t relatives who could take you. Right-ho—good-bye, good-bye. Take care of yourself.”
    “Return to duty!” Bridget sniffed scornfully. “You must be crazy. Why didn’t I fall off a crag? Look, infant—hear me this chapter, will you? There are some questions at the end of it—page twenty-seven.”
    Nurse Hannon opened the door and had time to press a warning finger to her lips before standing aside, straight as a ramrod, to allow a visitor to sweep past her. Jacqueline pushed the text-book under her top sheet and hoped it did not show. She was not supposed to read yet.
    Jacky did not know the man and supposed he was for Bridget. But the Irish girl had melted away under the bedclothes in an astonishing way, and the visitor twisted a chair round to face Jacqueline, and studied her appraisingly. Then he nodded.
    “I just met Parsons. He said you were better to-day. Now, young lady, what I want to know is, what the