There was Mrs. Gladys Doolittle Batt, a grass one--Batt being represented
as a vanishing point--President of the National Eugenic and Purity
League; tall, gnarled, sinuously powerful, and prone to emotional
attacks. The attacks were directed toward others.
These, then, composed the heavy artillery. The artillery of the light
brigade consisted only of a single piece. Her name was Angelica White, a
delegate from the Trained Nurses' Association of America. The nurses had
been too busy with their business to attend such picnics, so one had been
selected by lot to represent the busy Association on this expedition.
Angelica White was a tall, fair, yellow-haired girl of twenty-two or
three, with violet-blue eyes and red lips, and a way of smiling a little
when spoken to--but let that pass. I mean only to be scientifically
minute. A passion for fact has ever obsessed me. I have little literary
ability and less desire to sully my pen with that degraded form of
letters known as fiction. Once in my life my mania for accuracy involved
me lyrically. It was a short poem, but an earnest one:
Truth is mighty and must prevail,
Otherwise it were inadvisable to tell the tale.
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