“And right you are,” said Kitty, “and isn’t it the law? They take your clothes and if they lose your clothes you’ve got to have the value, and haven’t I had many a fight over the same thing and never have I been beaten.”

She tossed her head with its ample thatch, due, she assured me, to the constant use of vaseline⁠—“twopence the box and well worth the price.”

Under Kitty’s behest a further, furious search was instigated, and at last the attendant, a little weary, brought back in triumph, the most begrimed thing in vests ever to be seen.

“Here it is, Martha, and of all places in the world I found it in the men’s room.” She looked at the red-faced woman. “Have you been trying to get off?” she asked.

The sally was received with shouts of laughter. Such a little thing relieves the monotony in a casual ward! Everyone is so pathetically eager to break through the cold officialdom, which, for all the kindness of the attendants⁠—and I found them very kind⁠—is always present.