A. T. Quiller-Couch,
True Tilda — Chapter 1
(1909)
“ The Second Nurse muttered something, and he went on:"She is well, practically. All she wants now is some one to keep an eye on her, make her lie up for a couple of hours every day, and box her ears if she won't.""That's me," thought Tilda. "I'm to be moved out of the way because t'other's going to die; and if she's going to die, there's no time to be lost." ”
A. T. Quiller-Couch,
True Tilda — Chapter 1
(1909)
“ The other six beds in the ward were empty."I 'ate 'im, because—look 'ere, I don't believe you're listenin'?"The figure in the next bed stirred feebly; the figure of a woman, straight and gaunt under the hospital bedclothes. A tress of her hair had come uncoiled and looped itself across the pillow—reddish auburn hair, streaked with grey. She had been brought in, three nights ago, drenched, bedraggled, chattering in a high fever; a case of acute pneumonia. Her delirium had kept Tilda—who was preternaturally sharp for her nine years—awake and curious during the better part of two night-watches. ”
A. T. Quiller-Couch,
True Tilda — Chapter 1
(1909)
“ Tilda listened hard for a minute, two minutes, then dropped her head back on her pillow as the door-handle rattled. It was the Second Nurse returning for night duty. Early next morning the doctor came—a thin young man with a stoop, and a crop of sandy hair that stood upright from his forehead. Tilda detested him.He and the Second Nurse talked apart for quite a long while, and paid no attention to the child, who lay shamming a doze, but with her ears open.She heard the doctor say—"She? Oh, move her to the far end of the ward." ”
