Page:Hilda Wade (1900).pdf/28

'Dare we try it on a human subject?' I asked tentatively.

Hilda Wade answered at once with that unerring rapidity of hers, 'Yes, certainly; on a few—the right persons. I, for one, am not afraid to try it.'

'You?' I cried, feeling suddenly aware how much I thought of her. 'Oh, not you, please, Nurse Wade. Some other life—less valuable!'

Sebastian stared at me coldly. 'Nurse Wade volunteers,' he said. 'It is in the cause of science. Who dares dissuade her? That tooth of yours? Ah, yes. Quite sufficient excuse. You wanted it out, Nurse Wade. Wells-Dinton shall operate.'

Without a moment's hesitation, Hilda Wade sat down in an easy-chair, and took a measured dose of the new anæsthetic proportioned to the average difference in weight between racoons and humanity. My face displayed my anxiety, I suppose, for she turned to me, smiling, with quiet confidence. 'I know my own constitution,' she said, with a reassuring glance that went straight to my heart. 'I do not in the least fear.'

As for Sebastian, he administered the drug to her as unconcernedly as if she were a rabbit. Sebastian's scientific coolness and calmness have long been the admiration of younger practitioners.

Wells-Dinton gave one wrench. The tooth came out as though the patient were a block of marble. There was not a cry or a movement, such as one notes when nitrous oxide is administered. Hilda Wade was to all appearance a mass of lifeless flesh. We stood round and watched. I was trembling with terror. Even on Sebastian's pale face, usually so unmoved save by the watchful eagerness of scientific curiosity, I saw signs of anxiety.