A white pique skirt and linen shirt-waist of immaculate and
starched whiteness, an apron with regulation shoulder-straps, and a cap
that betokened a graduate of St. Luke's Hospital, formed her surprising,
but not at all unbecoming, outfit.
Nan's roguish face looked very demure under the white cap, and she smiled
pleasantly when Patty at last recovered her wits sufficiently to
introduce her father.
"Nan," she said, "if this is really you, let me present my father; and,
papa, this is supposed to be Miss Nan Allen, but I never saw her look
like this before."
"I am very glad to meet you, Miss Allen," said Mr. Fairfield, "and though
we are all apparently very well at present, one can never tell how soon
there may be need of your professional services."
"I hope not very soon," said Nan, laughing; "for my professional
knowledge is scarcely sufficient to enable me to adjust this costume
properly."
"It seems to be on all right," said Patty, looking at it critically; "but
where in the world did you get it? And what have you got it on for? We're
not going to a masquerade."
"I put it on," said Nan, "because I couldn't help myself. I wanted to
change my travelling gown, and when I opened my suit-case this is all
there was in it, except some combs and brushes and bottles."
"Whew!" said Bob. "When I picked up that suit-case I wasn't quite sure I
had the right one. You know I went back for it after we left the train at
New Brunswick, and you said it was the only one in the world with a
handle on the end.
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