Florence Nightingale #226988

Florence let the heavy front door swing shut behind her. Then she crossed to the edge of the flagged terrace and paused a moment, frowning slightly. Her arms were filled with dozens of small paper-wrapped packages, each tied with a bit of red or yellow ribbon, and her cheeks were a little flushed from the effort of balancing this bur den. She looked anxiously about, to see that nothing had been dropped; she looked again at the packages, her lips moving silently.