That Girl of Johnson's — page 140: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S, 129 CHAPTER XXVIIL OVER-FATIGUING. “You two are excellent nurses,” Mrs. Allen said, softly, a smile on her lips as she motioned with her head toward the bed. Dr. Dunwiddie turned at once with a slight exclamation, and Dolores arose with the comb in her hand, her hair fall- ing around her, her eyes dark as though tears were in them, her lips shut close. Her mother’s comb—this slip of tortoise shell, old fashioned and faded, that Betsy Glenn had given her together with a thin, worn ring of gold that her mother had given her friend to keep till her daughter should be old enough to value them, The ring was on her finger, but the comb, the frail bit of shell, one of her dear- est treasures, as having been worn by her mother on her wedding day, and every day after till she died—what good was itnow? Of what use could it be save to be hidden away where no eyes but her own could see it? She closed her finger® tightly over the broken shell, as though fearful it would be taken away from her, as she turned her eyes toward the bed and met full in hers the weak gaze of her father. Only for a moment, however, for the eyes closed almost immediately as though the light hurt them, but in that moment Dolores once-more faced his soul with hers. Dr. Dunwiddie forgot all romantic thoughts or dreams as he bent above the man, and Mrs. Allen, setting aside the tray, brought in the beef tea. Dolores had hidden the comb in her pocket, and braided her hair down her back, and stood beside Dr. Dunwiddie ready for what should come. When Mrs. Allen brought in the tea she took the bowl from her hand with a quiet authority that left the woman nothing to say. She asked no questions, she said nothing; but she gave the tea.in such doses as the doctor Eomicboo “S (eo) mn