From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

I was in bed all last week and I had a very nice time between earaches. One day last week Grandmother went downtown and she said that she would buy me a book and what kind of book did I want? So I said, “Please pick out a book about someone real, not about good little girls and Bible stories, or morals.” So she did bring me a wonderful book about a real little girl called Florence Nightingale. Isn’t that a lovely name? Just like the real bird who sings at night. Florence, too, was a lovely little girl. When she was my age she liked to take care of sick people. I hate sick people. They are always so cross.