One day an old pavior smashed his hand. The surgeons at St. Bernard's wanted to remove three fingers. Not before he had been to see Sister Agnes, he thought. Sister Agnes went in for conservative surgery, and told him to refuse his consent. How often had she known a simple method of dressing save the digits in such a case. In three months the man had the complete use of his hand as before the accident, but that didn't console the house surgeon, whose fingers had itched "to make a neat little job of it." The pavior was so grateful to the Sister for her advice that he begged her acceptance of his favourite linnet in a nice cage.
Heaven must be won, not dreamed; thy task is set, Peace was not made for earth, nor rest for thee. _Lyra Apostolica._
And so the medical staff of the Nightingale Hospital of fifty beds consisted of a resident doctor, duly qualified both by nature and the colleges--the only true "double qualification" in this world--with a consulting physician and surgeon of eminence who attended twice a week for a proper fee. This last was not at all an honorary appointment, because doctors never do work for nothing if they can help it, any more than bishops, or even kings; and as they were prevented by the constitution of the place from paying themselves in any of the accustomed ways, substantial cheques had very properly to be drawn. No new operations, no new drugs, no treatment of any kind not well established elsewhere were permitted by the governing body (which had several medical men on its board beside the lay members), because it was held that, however desirable it might be to keep abreast of the science of the day, it was first much more important then and there to get the poor women and children of Commercial Road healed of their diseases as soon as conveniently might be done. Science, as far as Commercial Road folk went, was thus baulked of its prey--no great hindrance probably to the human race. The ladies of Nightingale House had not settled in that locality precisely on scientific grounds: they felt they could safely leave Science in the hands of its devotees, these being probably people so ardently in love with it, that they would sacrifice themselves, their bodies and their feelings on its behalf. The laws of supply and demand would doubtless meet that case as they meet others. This scheme was for quite other and (as the originators thought) better purposes; and the patients took kindly to the idea. They did not mind getting well on empiric methods if the doctors did not object to curing them without knowing why. For their part it was a great deal better to go out whole and sound, unscientifically, than to die according to the highest dictates of science, or hobble away maimed for similar reasons. So it worked well all round. The subscribers secured what they paid for; the patients did not complain of getting well on such terms; the doctors had no cause to grumble. It was only the medical journals which declared that the hospital was not up to the standard demanded by an age like the present.