Miss Nightingale totally understood Patsy’s need to withdraw from the program.  She graciously left the door open for her if she could ever return and finish her training.  Patsy had lost a second mother but she was determined she would not lose her second father.  She returned home and concentrated on caring for the colonel.  Crystal had been a dear in helping Patsy with her father but her attention was turned from the sickroom but to the ball room.  Young suitors began calling and now Lord Michael had asked for her hand.  Patsy was happy for her sister.  She hoped that one day, when the colonel had sufficiently recovered, it would be her turn.

            Patsy heard something drop to the floor in the colonel’s room.  She went through the doorway that joined her room with his.  A saucer had fallen from the wide arm of the chair where he sat and had thankfully been cushioned by the carpet. Patsy retrieved it from off the floor and placed it on the chest-of-drawers by the wall.  The man’s stare remained fixed forward.  His face remained blank.

            “Now, papa, it’s time for us to make our grand entrance,” the nurse said as she brushed Winterson’s brown but graying hair into place.  “Are you ready?”

            There was no response.  Patsy did not expect one.  She was sure if she continued to talk to him one day he would answer.

            Some of the saliva that collected in the colonel’s mouth dribbled down from his chin.  Patsy wiped it away with a clean cloth she made sure she kept with her at all times.  She bent down and looked at her guardian directly in his blank face.

            “Colonel Winterson, attention,” she said in a sharp tone.  She was not loud.  She did not have to be.  The only person that needed to hear the command was sitting in front of her.