“A maid’s daughter helped an old man every day — until a general suddenly walked in with five military officers…”

“Emma, what are you doing in there?” Emma jumped.

Her mother, Mary Carter, stood at the door. She wore her light blue maids uniform. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her face was etched with the familiar lines of a long day. She was holding a bundle of clean sheets, and she did not look happy. I told you not to bother the patients,” Mary scolded, though her voice was more tired than angry. “This room is on my list to be cleaned. That means the patient Well, it means we need to get it ready.” “But where did he go?” Emma asked, her voice small. “Did he go home?” Mary’s expression softened. She set the sheets down on the metal cart in the hallway. She knew how much Emma had liked the grumpy man in 214. Honey, I don’t think he went home. Mr. Porter was very old. He was very sick. Sometimes she didn’t get to finish. A new sound echoed from the end of the long tiled hallway. It was a sharp hard sound. It was not the soft sold sound of doctors or the squeak of a nurse’s shoes. It was the sound of heavy polished boots. Mary pulled Emma back into the doorway, her hand protectively on her daughter’s shoulder. Mr.