Miss Mink's Soldier and Other Stories

								

morning if I knew a place where he could buy women's togs."
"It's a shame he won't let the girl stay," said Miss Fletcher. "I have
been talking to the superintendent, and she is quite willing to let her
do light work around the hospital and pick up what training she can. I
should be glad enough to look after her, and there's a good night school
two blocks over."
"Why don't you talk to the old man?" urged the nurse. "You are the only
one who has ever been able to do anything with him. Perhaps you could
make him see what an injustice he is doing the girl."
"I believe I'll try," said Miss Fletcher.
The next morning, when she came on duty, she found Sally's bed the
repository of a strange assortment of wearing apparel. A calico dress
of pronounced hue, a large lace jabot, and a small pair of yellow kid
gloves were spread out for inspection.
"I knowed they wuz too leetle," Pop was saying, as he carefully smoothed
the kid fingers, "but I 'lowed you could kerry 'em in yer hand."
There was an unusual eagerness in his hard face, an evident desire to
make up to Sally in one way for what he was depriving her of in another.
He was more talkative than at any time since coming to the hospital, and
he dilated with satisfaction on the joys that awaited their home-coming.
"May I have a little talk with you before you go?" asked Miss Fletcher.
He flashed on her a quick look of suspicion, but her calm, impassive
face told him nothing. She was a pretty woman, and Pop had evidently
recognized the fact from the start.
"Wal, I'll come now," he said, rising reluctantly; "but, Sal, you git
yer clothes on an' be ready to start time I git back. I ain't anxious to
stay round these here diggin's no longer'n need be. Besides, that thar
railroad car mought take a earlier start. You be ready ag'in I git
back."
For an hour and a quarter Miss Fletcher was shut up in the linen closet
with the old man. What arguments and persuasions she brought to bear are
not known. Occasionally his voice could be heard in loud and angry
dissent, but when at last they emerged he looked like some old king of
the jungle that has been captured and tamed. His shoulders drooped, his
one arm hung limply by his side, and his usually restless eyes were bent
upon the floor.
Without a word he strode back to the room where Sally in her misfit
clothes was waiting for him.
"Come along o' me, Sal," he commanded sternly as he picked up his carpet
sack. "Leave your things whar they be."
Silently they passed out of the ward, down the stairway, through the
long vaultlike corridor to the superintendent's room. Once there he
flung back his rusty coat and ripped the last bill but one from its
hiding place.
"That thar is fer my gal," he said defiantly to the superintendent.
"She'll git one the fust day of every month. Give her the larnin' she's
so hell-bent on, stuff her plumb full on it. An' ef you let ennything
happen to her"--his brows lowered threateningly--"I'll come back an'