She peered anxiously at the
tray being borne toward her by Selina Arden, most scrupulously
conscientious of all trained nurses, and never more rigidly exact than
when the early diet of patients in convalescence was concerned.
"Is that all?" murmured Anne in a tone of anguish.
"All!" replied Miss Arden firmly. But she smiled, showing her perfect
white teeth--and showing also her sympathy by the tone in which she
added: "Poor child!"
"Shall I never, never, never," asked the patient, hungrily surveying the
tray at close range, "have enough just to dull these pangs a little? Not
enough to satisfy me, of course, but just enough to take the edge off?"
"Very soon now," replied Miss Arden cheerily, "you shall have a pretty
good-sized portion of beefsteak, juicy and tender, and you shall eat it
all up--"
"And leave not a wrack behind," moaned Anne Linton, closing her eyes.
"But you are wrong, Miss Arden--I shall not eat it, I shall _gulp_
it--the way a dog does. I always wondered why a dog has no manners about
eating. I know now. He is so hungry his eyes eat it first, so his mouth
has no chance. Well, I'm certainly thankful for the food on this tray.
It's awfully good--what there is of it."
She consumed it, making the process as lingering as was consistent with
the ravaging appetite which was a real torture. When the last mouthful
had vanished she set her eyes upon the clock--the little travelling
clock which was Miss Arden's and which had ticked busily and cheerfully
through all those days of illness when Anne's eyes had never once lifted
to notice the passage of time.
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