The Project Gutenberg eBook of Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse
    
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse

Author: Kay Lyttleton

Illustrator: Albert Orbaan

Release date: August 9, 2021 [eBook #66017]
                Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Original publication: United States: World Publishing Company

Credits: Stephen Hutcheson, Sue Clark and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEAN CRAIG, GRADUATE NURSE ***

Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse




FALCON [Illustration] BOOKS

_Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse_

BY KAY LYTTLETON

As Jean Craig finished her training and prepared for graduation,
illness struck--first in her own family, and later in epidemics
that swept the village of Elmhurst. It was with a deep feeling of
satisfaction that Jean was able to give trained and efficient aid at
the hospital. It was with equal satisfaction that she watched romance
blossom between Dr. Benson, the fresh young intern, and Eileen Gordon,
the new Supervisor of Nurses, and discovered that her sister Kit was
practically engaged. But the joy of the family reached a new peak when
Doris, the youngest daughter, won a music scholarship. _Jean Craig,
Graduate Nurse_ is another heartwarming and happy story about the
Craigs of Elmhurst.

_OTHER JEAN CRAIG BOOKS_

  Jean Craig Grows Up
  Jean Craig in New York
  Jean Craig Finds Romance
  Jean Craig, Nurse




[Illustration: _Dr. Benson spent long hours in Timmy’s room._]




_JEAN CRAIG, GRADUATE NURSE_

  by KAY LYTTLETON

  [Illustration]

  THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY
  CLEVELAND AND NEW YORK




  FALCON BOOKS
  are published by THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY
  2231 WEST 110th STREET · CLEVELAND 2 · OHIO

  WP 8·50
  _COPYRIGHT 1950
  BY THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY
  MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA_




Contents

   1. Illness Strikes!                          9

   2. A Villain Unmasked                       21

   3. Fresh As Paint!                          30

   4. Emergency Operation                      42

   5. April Wedding                            52

   6. Dr. Benson Confesses                     62

   7. Ralph Returns from Europe                73

   8. Jean and Ralph Discuss Their Future      80

   9. Polio Claims a Victim                    89

  10. Kit at the Capital                       99

  11. Kit and Frank                           113

  12. An All Night Vigil                      122

  13. The Doctor’s Dilemma                    133

  14. Mercyville                              145

  15. Graduation!                             158

  16. Double Triumph                          166

  17. Judge Ellis Is Trapped                  174

  18. Just Among Girls                        184

  19. Elmhurst vs. Mercyville                 194

  20. Sweethearts’ Dance                      205

  21. Summer’s End                            212




JEAN CRAIG, GRADUATE NURSE

1. Illness Strikes!


The small village of Elmhurst, Connecticut, was enjoying a balmy early
spring. The March winds were soft breezes coaxing the New England earth
to life again.

Night had settled after a long twilight, and gay sounds could be heard
coming from the nurses’ quarters at the Gallup Memorial Clinic. The
clinic, now almost two years old, was the pride of the community.
Before it was built, Dr. Gallup, gentle, wise and able physician, had
tended the sick, brought babies into the world and guarded the health
of the community with constant vigilance.

Like the noble man he was, Dr. Gallup refused to retire from active
practice until he had helped to provide for the future medical care of
his beloved patients. And because the town loved and respected him,
they backed him solidly. Together the people of Elmhurst created the
Gallup Memorial Clinic. And now, the white clapboard house which had
once belonged to a wealthy native was a small but efficient combination
hospital and clinic for the community.

Dr. Edward Barsch, eminent surgeon, had come down from Boston to serve
as head of the clinic. His staff was small but competent, and he had
managed to open an accredited nursing course.

It wouldn’t be long before the first class of nurses would graduate.
Standing high in the class, Jean Craig, one of the very first girls
interested in the clinic, was looking eagerly toward the summer day
when she would win her cap.

But tonight there was no thought of graduation. The nurses were
planning a party. For there was a wedding in the offing, and the
excited girls were wrapping presents and prettying themselves for Ethel
Simpson’s wedding shower.

Ethel had come down from Boston with Dr. Barsch to act as supervisor
of nurses. As is told in _Jean Craig, Nurse_, Jean and her classmates
had been taught and guided by the lovely, competent girl through their
year and a half of training. They had also laughed and cried with her
during her courtship and subsequent engagement to Dr. Ted Loring, staff
pediatrician. And now they were planning many gay and exciting parties
to celebrate the coming wedding.

The party was to be held at the Craig farmhouse just outside of town.
And while the girls were getting ready, Mrs. Craig was making a final
inspection of her home. When she was satisfied with the preparations,
she threw open the front door of the farmhouse and took a deep breath
of the fresh spring air.

It would be a happy spring, Mrs. Craig thought. Each year that passed
seemed to push the war and the hardships that followed farther back in
the shadowy memories of the family. Here in this simple village they
had found peace and happiness.

She smiled as she thought of her family. It was truly growing up.
Jean, her oldest daughter, was an adult. In a few months she would
be twenty-one. It was exciting to have an adult daughter, Mrs. Craig
thought fondly. Jean would be old enough to vote. She would be a
registered nurse, and lastly, but most important of all, she would soon
be a bride herself.

Five years ago, when the Craig family had moved to Elmhurst to forget
the misery of the war years, Jean had met Ralph MacRae, a handsome
young Canadian boy from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. _Jean Craig Grows Up_
tells how Ralph sold his Elmhurst farm to the Craig family, and lost
his heart to Jean in the bargain.

Next came Kit. Mrs. Craig smiled in spite of herself as she thought of
her nineteen-year-old impetuous daughter. Kit was the family scholar.
She had been sent to Hope College in Delphi, Wisconsin, by a crotchety
old uncle, and she had endeared herself to the elderly scholar by
turning into a scholar, herself. The tale of Kit’s entrance to Hope
College is told in _Jean Craig Finds Romance_. Mrs. Craig chuckled as
she remembered how Kit and Uncle Bart had stumbled upon a secret while
they were examining an ancient Egyptian mummy case, and how the money
awarded to Uncle Bart was now providing her daughter with the chance
for her education. Although Kit was many miles away from her family,
Mrs. Craig could almost feel the vitality of her daughter halfway
across the continent.

Doris was the youngest daughter. Mrs. Craig thought of her sweet,
pretty seventeen-year-old with tenderness. Doris was shy. In her
demure way, she often made her mother think of girls of generations
past. There was something almost old-fashioned about the feminine
child. But Doris was also very talented. Right now, while Mrs. Craig
waited for the guests to arrive, she could hear Doris softly playing a
Debussy etude. The music blended with the soft evening air and made the
atmosphere nearly perfect.

As Mrs. Craig thought of her son, Tommy, her mood changed. No one could
think of fifteen-year-old Tommy without smiling in amusement. Tommy
was all boy. His head was full of eager projects, and his legs were
long and still awkward. But he was a businessman, too. His chickens
had provided him with enough money for spending and for a good start
on his future college education. During the years that Mr. Craig had
been invalided after the war, Tommy had been the man of the family.
But though he knew the value of a dollar and the rich returns for hard
work, there was mischief and play in the boy. Baseball season was just
around the corner, and this, to Tommy, was as important as the money
he was putting away for the future.

Mrs. Craig frowned suddenly. She was thinking of Jack, the Craigs’
adopted son. Several years before, the homeless waif had found his way
to the Craig’s home and into all their hearts, and he had never left.
Jack was now thirteen. Two years ago, Mr. Craig had formally adopted
the boy, and he was now as truly a member of the family as any of the
other children. But Mrs. Craig was worried about him. Perhaps he was
growing too fast. For the past month, Jack had been listless and pale.
His appetite was poor ... a sure sign that something was wrong.

As she fretted about Jack, Jean came out on the porch and slipped her
arm around her mother’s waist. She was wearing a simple, pale blue
party dress which set off her sparkling eyes and curly brown hair.

“Everything’s ready,” she said. “Doris and Becky have organized the
whole party. And whatever are you baking in the kitchen? I can hardly
wait to find out!”

Mrs. Craig squeezed her daughter’s hand. “I wonder if we’ve ever tried
to have any sort of party in this house without Becky’s help,” she
mused.

Jean laughed. “Aunt Becky would be positively insulted if you didn’t
ask for her help, and you know it,” she answered.

“Aunt Becky would be lost without the Craig family to look after, you
mean,” Mrs. Craig laughed. “Ever since she urged us to come to Elmhurst
in the first place, she’s been watching over us like a mother hen.”

Jean giggled. “I would give anything to be at the hospital now. Did I
tell you that the doctors have taken over for the nurses tonight? So
that the girls could all come to the shower. I can just see Dr. Daley
and Dr. Jenkins running to answer patients’ calls.”

“It was lovely of them to volunteer,” Mrs. Craig said.

Jean nodded. “Oh, they’re all like that. I guess you have to cooperate
if you have such a small hospital. Oh golly,” she sighed, “the wedding
makes me want to cry.”

“I know how much you miss Ralph, dear,” Mrs. Craig answered. “Just a
few more weeks and he’ll be back again.”

“He’s in Norway now. Did I tell you, Mother?” Jean asked.

Mrs. Craig laughed. “Yes, dear. You told me. In fact, you read me his
last letter.”

Jean blushed. “That’s right. I guess I’ve told you a hundred times.”

Mrs. Craig smiled. “I think it’s wonderful that you want to talk about
Ralph so much.”

Doris came out on the porch and breathed deeply of the fresh air. “What
a night for a party!” she exclaimed. “It’s just about perfect!”

“Where’s Becky?” Mrs. Craig asked.

“Oh, she went upstairs to see Jack for a minute.”

Mrs. Craig sighed. “Has Jack gone to bed? So early?”

Jean turned around to face her mother. “I thought he and Tommy were
going over to Billy Ellis’s for the night.”

Mrs. Craig shook her head. “Tommy went, but Jack said he didn’t feel
well.”

Doris sat down on the porch swing. “Becky went up to give him a tonic.
She said something about springtime and sulphur and molasses....”

“And sulphur and molasses never hurt anyone,” Aunt Becky said as she
came out to join them. “I tell you, you have to get winter out of a
growing boy’s bones. The way that youngster has been mizzering around
lately just proves it. When he passed up the chance to spend the night
with us, I knew something was wrong.”

“Is Jack in bed, Becky?” Mrs. Craig asked.

“Yes, he is. He’s just plumb tuckered out. No wonder. He didn’t eat
enough supper to keep a bird alive.”

Mrs. Craig said, “I’ll go up to him in a few minutes. After the guests
arrive.”

Just then a car turned into the Craig driveway. Doris stood up. “Here
they come. Don’t forget, Mother, Becky. This is a surprise party.”

The car door opened and Hedda and Ingeborg hopped out. The student
nurses ran up the steps while Ethel switched off the ignition and
headlights and climbed out after them.

“Evening, Mrs. Craig, everyone,” the girls called as they came up to
the porch.

“Good evening, girls,” Mrs. Craig replied, grasping their hands.
“Ethel, dear, you look lovely this evening.”

Ethel slipped off her white wool jacket and displayed her silver-green
party dress. She whirled around. “See the skirt,” she laughed. “Ted
helped me pick this out.”

“He has lovely taste, then,” Mrs. Craig said.

“For a man,” Hedda added. “It’s simply gorgeous.”

Ethel smiled as she thought of her fiance. “You know, it’s wonderful,”
she said softly. “I haven’t any father or mother to help me prepare for
the wedding, so I have a fiance who can be so helpful and wonderful in
these things!”

Mrs. Craig smiled fondly at the girl. “Well,” she said briskly, “let’s
go inside.”

The girls drifted into the living room. Doris sat down at the piano and
began to play a popular tune. They all grouped around her and began to
sing as Mrs. Craig slipped out to the kitchen.

Jean heard sputtering and backfiring in the driveway. “Here come Helen
and Eileen,” she cried.

In a few minutes, the two girls appeared in the doorway. “Old Bessy
made it up your hill,” Eileen giggled. “There’s life in the old
rattletrap yet.”

“How’re the doctors making out over at the clinic?” Ingeborg asked.

Helen chuckled. “Oh, just fine. Can you imagine Dr. Jenkins making
formula for the babies? He certainly looked fussed and awkward.”

“Wait till Ted’s bachelor dinner,” Jean teased. “Then I suppose we’ll
have to do all their work.”

“Dr. Barsch is at the desk,” Helen continued. “Any calls tonight are
going to be answered by St. Peter himself,” she said irreverently.

Lucy Peckham and Sally Hancock came in the door just as Mrs. Craig
brought in a large bushel basket decorated with white and gold paper.
The basket was heaped with shower gifts for Ethel.

“Here you are, my dear,” Mrs. Craig said. “And you know we all wish you
great happiness with every gift.”

Tears glistened in Ethel’s eyes as she looked at the basket.

“I sort of knew it would be a shower,” she admitted. “But I never had a
basketful of presents before in my life. You just shouldn’t have done
it!”

Doris started to play the _Wedding March_, and the girls clustered
around Ethel as she slowly opened her presents. Mrs. Craig waited till
the first gift was opened, and then she slipped out into the hall.
As she started up the stairs, the door opened, and Mr. Craig and Ted
Loring came in.

She turned around and came down to greet her husband and the young
doctor. “Why, Ted,” she said fondly, “how nice to see you!” She smiled
at her husband.

“Ted and I have some things to talk over, Marge,” Mr. Craig explained.
“We thought tonight would be a fine time.”

“Then you didn’t come to join the party?”

Ted stared at her in mock horror. “Heaven forbid!” he exclaimed. He
peeked through the entranceway into the living room. “They do look
lovely, don’t they?”

Mr. Craig smiled at the sight of the radiant girls. “Yes, they do,” he
agreed. “Now Marge, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll just take this young man
into the study.”

“Oh, of course,” Mrs. Craig said. “I’m on my way upstairs. I’ll bring
you some hot chocolate later, if you like.”

They both smiled and nodded as she went upstairs.

“Come in, Ted,” Mr. Craig said, opening the door to his study. They sat
down in comfortable chairs and pulled out their pipes.

Mr. Craig smiled disarmingly at the boy. “You might call this a trial
run for me, son,” he said.

“I don’t understand, sir,” Ted replied, lighting his pipe.

Mr. Craig leaned back and stared out of the window. “I guess you know
that our daughter will be getting married pretty soon. When young
MacRae comes back from Europe, probably. I guess he’ll want a few
words with me beforehand. So I thought I’d ... well, I’d practice on
you.”

Ted nodded. “You don’t know what this means to me, Mr. Craig,” he said
warmly. “You and Mrs. Craig have been like a second father and mother
to Ethel, and this gesture just about completes the picture.”

Mr. Craig nodded. “Fine girl,” he mused. “I can’t remember knowing any
finer girl, as a matter of fact. Well, I guess all young people have to
listen to some old man recount the blessings and pitfalls of marriage
sooner or later. Your mother is still living, isn’t she, Ted?”

“Yes, sir. She will be here next month for the wedding. She and Ethel
have been corresponding for several months, now. Needless to say,
Mother is thrilled.”

The older man nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, Ted, I’m in no
position to ask you impertinent questions about your bank account or
your ideas about marriage or anything else. But I just want to give you
a little advice. Advice which I think you can use. In some ways, you
and I are very much alike. Before I went into the Army, I was pretty
absorbed in my work. Perhaps I knew as much as the average husband and
father about what was going on in my family. But it took a war and a
serious illness to prove to me that no work in the world is one quarter
as important as a man’s wife and children.

“I know what medicine means to you, Ted. I have some idea of the
demands it makes on you. But never forget that you will have a wife who
will stand beside you and will help you fight whatever battles come
along. Just don’t forget to let her help you in the fight....”

Mrs. Craig knocked softly at the door.

“Come in, Marge,” Mr. Craig called. “We could use some hot chocolate.”

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Craig said as she closed the door behind her. “I
didn’t intend to break in on you quite so soon. But, dear, I’m worried.
Jack is upstairs in bed. He isn’t feeling at all well.”

Mr. Craig tapped the heel of his pipe in his hand. “Something he ate
for supper?”

Mrs. Craig shook her head. “No, it’s a cold, or, well, I don’t exactly
know what. He has some fever.”

“How high a fever, Mrs. Craig?” Ted asked.

Mrs. Craig smiled almost apologetically. “Hardly any at all. His
temperature registers just over ninety-nine. But he feels so bad. He
says he aches all over.”

Ted started for the door. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Craig, I’m going to
take a look at him,” he said.




2. A Villain Unmasked


Jack was lying face down on his cot when Ted and Mr. and Mrs. Craig
came into his room. He turned his head with a grimace and looked up at
them listlessly. Ted walked quickly over to him and sat down on the
floor beside his bed.

“Just let your head down, Jack,” Ted said as Jack tried to look up at
his mother and father. “Now tell me where you hurt.”

“All over,” Jack whispered.

Ted nodded. “Does it hurt to talk?”

Jack nodded.

Ted looked up at Mrs. Craig. “How long has he been feeling this way?”

Mrs. Craig said helplessly, “I don’t think it’s ever been this bad.
He’s been sort of listless ever since he had a cold last month.”

Ted picked up Jack’s arm gently. He pressed against the elbow. Jack
winced.

“What kind of cold was it?” Ted asked.

Mrs. Craig smoothed Jack’s forehead. “Well, he first had the sniffles,
and then a sore throat and then a cough. Pretty much like all his
colds. Then, a while later, he got another sore throat. He ran some
fever.”

“Uh huh,” Ted said, nodding his head.

“Mother, my head aches,” Jack moaned.

Ted sighed and stood up. “Well, we can’t do anything here. If you don’t
mind, I’d like to run him over to the clinic and let Dr. Barsch and Dr.
Jenkins have a look at him. I came on a social call, and I don’t even
have a stethoscope with me.”

Mrs. Craig straightened up. “Is it serious, Ted?” she asked.

Ted hesitated and then nodded. “It might be, Mrs. Craig,” he said. He
picked up Jack’s wrist and looked at it. “There’s some swelling here.
You see?”

Mr. and Mrs. Craig both nodded.

“Well, let’s get him to the hospital,” Ted said. “If we can wrap him up
in blankets, we don’t need to bother him with clothes.”

Mrs. Craig picked up Jack’s blankets and wrapped them around the
bewildered boy. Ted smiled at him and said, “Cheer up, son. These
things happen to the best of us. We probably won’t keep you at the
clinic very long.”

Mrs. Craig started for the door. “I’ll get my coat,” she said.

Mr. Craig caught her arm. “Let me take the boy over, Marge,” he said.
“The girls will need you for their party.”

Mrs. Craig whirled around. “I can’t leave him now!” she cried. “My boy
is sick, and I’m going to stay with him!”

Mr. Craig put his arm around his distraught wife. “Of course, dear,” he
said. “And please don’t worry.”

“Get your car ready,” Mrs. Craig said to Ted. “Mr. Craig can carry him
downstairs. We’ll be ready when you are.”

Mrs. Craig ran downstairs and took her coat from the hall closet. She
looked into the living room where the party was in full swing. After a
minute she caught Jean’s eye.

“Jean,” she said softly, as her daughter came to the doorway. “Jack is
sick, and Ted and I are going over to the clinic with him. Don’t tell
the others. I don’t want to break up their fun. But you’ll have to
manage without me.”

Jean gasped. “Oh, Mother! I’ll go over with you!” she cried.

“No, dear,” Mrs. Craig said firmly. “You stay with your guests. I’ll
call you as soon as we know anything.”

Mr. Craig bundled Jack into the car, and Mrs. Craig and Ted started
off with him toward town. Ted drove slowly, avoiding the bumps in the
country road. Mrs. Craig supported Jack tenderly, trying to brace him
against the swaying of the car. She noticed that Ted was scowling
angrily, and she suddenly felt cold with fright. As if he could sense
her terror, Ted reached over and patted her hand.

“I think everything’s going to be all right, Mrs. Craig,” he said
reassuringly.

Dr. Barsch was at the desk when they came into the hospital. Ted
exchanged a few words with him. The head doctor nodded gravely and came
over to Mrs. Craig and the boy.

“So you’ve caught yourself a bug, Jack,” Dr. Barsch said. “Well, let’s
get you upstairs, and Dr. Jenkins and I’ll go over you, and see just
what is the matter. If Dr. Loring will take over at the desk, I’ll have
an orderly take you right up.”

“May I go, too, Doctor?” Mrs. Craig asked.

Dr. Barsch hesitated, and then Mrs. Craig said, “No, I’ll wait here. I
shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

Dr. Barsch nodded. “It’s all right, Mrs. Craig. I know you’re worried.
I’ll let you see Jack as soon as I can.”

After the orderly had taken Jack upstairs, Ted sat down behind the desk
facing Mrs. Craig, who paced nervously back and forth.

“Please sit down, Mrs. Craig,” he begged her. “You’ll just wear
yourself out.”

Mrs. Craig smiled and sat down in an easy chair across the desk from
Ted. “I must seem like a foolish mother hen,” she said apologetically.

Ted looked at her in wonder. “I wish there were more mothers in the
world like you. Some of the mothers I’ve seen wouldn’t be this anxious
about their own children, let alone an adopted son.”

Mrs. Craig thought a moment. “I wonder why people don’t understand,”
she said softly. “Jack is every bit as much my own child as if I had
given birth to him.”

Ted nodded. “Of course _I’ve_ always thought of him as your own,
because he’s been with you as long as I’ve known you. But I’ve often
wondered, Mrs. Craig, why you and Mr. Craig adopted another child. I
mean, when your family is as large as it is.”

Mrs. Craig smiled softly as she remembered Jack when he first came to
her house. “We didn’t exactly adopt Jack. He adopted us. He turned
up one day looking for work. When he was just a bit of a thing. His
mother was dead. And his father!” she made a face as she remembered the
distasteful man. “He was frightful! He dragged that mite of a child
along with him on box cars! He ... he rode the rails, I think the
expression is. And then he found that Jack was too much of a nuisance,
thank God! And he dumped him off at Elmhurst.”

“You mean he ran away from his own son?”

Mrs. Craig nodded. “And so Jack came to us. Then, just about two
years ago, his father turned up again. I suppose that was fortunate,
too. He wanted Jack back. You see, Jack and Tommy make quite a bit of
money from their chickens. So he wanted Jack’s money. Mr. Craig made a
settlement with him, and he gave us permission to adopt Jack. So, you
see, Jack is our very own child. And that dreadful man has no claim to
him, whatsoever!”

Ted smiled. “Jack was lucky,” he said quietly.

“And so were we. I can’t imagine how, but that boy, brought up in
filth and horrible conditions, was as fine a boy as you can imagine.
Right from the very start. Oh, Ted, if anything happened to Jack, we’d
be lost!”

Ted smiled again. “Nothing will happen, Mrs. Craig,” he reassured her.

“What ... what do you think it is?” she asked timidly.

Ted hesitated. “I don’t know, of course,” he said.

“You mean, you don’t want to tell me?” she asked.

He drew a long breath. “Very well,” he said. “I’m afraid it may be
rheumatic fever.”

Mrs. Craig drew a long sigh of relief. “Oh, good heavens. And here I’ve
been really worried. I was so afraid of polio. I know it isn’t the
right season for polio, but you don’t know how a mother worries about
such things!”

Ted ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t think you understand, Mrs.
Craig. Do you know what rheumatic fever is?”

Mrs. Craig shook her head. “A sort of rheumatism, isn’t it? That would
explain the aching and the tiredness and swelling of the joints.”

Ted sighed. “It’s a type of rheumatism, all right. But compared to
rheumatic fever, polio is a pink tea party.”

Mrs. Craig gasped. “Oh, no!” she cried.

Ted drummed his fingers against the desk. “I don’t mean to under-rate
the seriousness of polio. But almost always polio can be diagnosed ...
at least the mother knows the child is really sick. But this mean
villain of a germ which Jack may have is one of the slickest criminals
of the medical world. Rheumatic fever doesn’t cripple outwardly ...
doesn’t disfigure a person the way polio does. But it can cripple and
kill.”

Mrs. Craig caught Ted’s hand. “Oh, Ted!” she cried.

Ted covered her hand with his. “Now, it’s not going to kill Jack. I can
promise you that.” He ran his fingers through his hair again. “But you
have no idea how many youngsters contract the disease and no one ever
knows it.”

“How does it work, Ted?” she asked.

“It usually starts in the form of a strep throat. You remember you
told me Jack had not one but two sore throats with his cold? Probably
he caught the infection while his resistance was low from his cold.
Then, after a while, the throat heals and the patient is presumably
well. Only he doesn’t really feel good. He hasn’t much appetite. He’s
listless. He aches in the joints. He isn’t exactly sick, but he isn’t
well, either. Lots of people ignore these symptoms. So the strep then
attacks the heart. If the patient is lucky, after that, he manages
to fight off the infection, or arrest it, and survives with a badly
damaged heart.”

Mrs. Craig covered her mouth with her hand. “And if the patient isn’t
lucky?” she asked.

Ted shook his head. “Let’s not talk about it any more,” he said.

“You mean, he dies?”

Ted nodded. “But you must remember this. Jack doesn’t fit either case.
Thanks to you, we’ve caught the villain. Jack’s going to have help in
his fight.”

Dr. Jenkins came down into the lobby and nodded to them. “I think we’ve
found the root of the trouble,” he said calmly.

Mrs. Craig shook her head as if to fight off a bad dream. “Dr.
Jenkins,” she said slowly, “your specialty is heart trouble, isn’t it?”

Dr. Jenkins smiled. “Of course I’m just past my internship, Mrs. Craig.
Someday I hope to be a heart specialist, though. But for right now, I’d
like to call in a specialist from Boston. We want to be very sure to do
exactly the right things.”

Ted looked at the other doctor. “I was right, Fred?” he asked.

Dr. Jenkins nodded. “And if Mrs. Craig wants to see Jack now....”

“Oh, please!” Mrs. Craig cried. “Ted, will you call Mr. Craig and tell
him? But please don’t let him tell the girls till the party is over.”

Jack was lying flat on his back in a small single room near the
pediatric ward. He managed a grin as Mrs. Craig came into the room.

“Jeepers, you should see all the things they did to me,” he said as
gaily as he could. “Mother, it sorta makes a guy feel important with a
couple of doctors fussing over him.”

Mrs. Craig knelt beside his bed. “All right, baby, everything is going
to be fine.”

Jack grimaced. “I’m not a baby,” he protested weakly. “They gave me
some aspirin and stuff. My head doesn’t ache so much. Hey, will you ask
Tommy if he ever had a car--cardio--you know what I mean?”

“A cardiograph? I’m sure Tommy never had one. You’ll be able to tell
him all about it in a few days,” Mrs. Craig smiled.

“They gave me a pill. I feel sorta dopey. But don’t hang around all
night or anything, because I’m gonna be okay.”

Mrs. Craig caressed his forehead gently. “Of course you are, Jack.”

Jack dozed off. But as he relaxed, a spasm of pain hit him, and he
cried, “Mother!” Too near to sleep to act like a man any longer,
he whimpered like a young child. Mrs. Craig stroked his black hair
tenderly.

Dr. Barsch appeared in the doorway. “I think he’s asleep, Mrs. Craig.
If you want to stay here tonight, there is a room next to this one....”

“Is it all right if I stay right with him?” she asked. “I’m not very
sleepy.”

Dr. Barsch came in and sat down beside the bed. “You’re a wonderful
woman, Mrs. Craig,” he said softly. “This boy is so lucky. And what a
boy he is! The exam we gave him wasn’t very pleasant for him. He’s in a
lot of pain. But he joked and grinned and ...” he turned his head away
a little. “I don’t know. Sometimes a youngster like this can make one
proud to be part of the human race!”




3. Fresh as Paint!


Billy Ellis and Buzzy Hancock dashed up the driveway to the porch of
the Craigs’ farmhouse. Tommy was sitting on the porch swing jotting
down figures in his account book when his pals joined him. They jumped
up on the porch, and Billy cuffed Buzzy playfully as they sat down on
the swing.

“Hey, take it easy, you guys,” Tommy said. “I’m trying to add up my
accounts. I want to give Jack an exact report of how much money we made
while he was gone.”

Billy stretched his long legs out in front of him. His voice, which
wavered between soprano and baritone, was full of sympathy as he said,
“Jeepers, what a break! The poor little guy’s going to miss all the fun
this summer.”

Tommy looked at his two closest pals. Billy, Judge Ellis’s son and
Aunt Becky’s stepson, was a few months younger than he. Ever since
the Craigs had come to Elmhurst, both Billy and Sally Hancock’s young
brother, Buzzy, had been involved in every project Tommy and Jack had
undertaken.

He shut his book. Stretching lazily, he said, “I guess it’s up to us
to see he has as much fun as possible. It’s a real tough break for
the ball team, though. I don’t know where we’re going to get a good
shortstop now that Jack’s out for the season.”

“Can we see him soon?” Buzzy asked.

Tommy shook his head. “Mom says no company for a while. He’s coming
home this afternoon, but you guys can’t see him for some time.”

Billy sighed. “Seems to me there isn’t any use in being sick. It isn’t
any fun no matter which way you look at it. What’s the guy going to do
with his time?”

“Oh, read, I guess. And study. He’s going to have a tutor, Mom said,”
Tommy answered.

Buzzy whistled. “You mean he’s gotta have school work? Jeepers! That’s
terrible!”

Tommy shrugged. “It would be worse if he had to stay back a term in
school.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Buzzy said thoughtfully. “But about what we guys
can do. You think about it, Tommy. Let us know, won’t you?”

Tommy stood up. “Will do,” he said. “And listen, you guys, one more
thing. Mom said those letters you wrote were just about the nicest
things you could have done for him. Keep it up, will you?”

Doris came out to the porch. “Tommy, have you seen Mother?” she asked.

“Sure. Mom’s upstairs getting ready to go over to get Jack. What’s up?”

“Where’s Dad?”

Tommy stared at her. “At the office, of course. Where else?”

Doris giggled at herself. “I guess I got so used to having Dad around
the house that I forgot he does go to work regularly now.” She pulled a
letter from her pocket. “It’s from Kit,” she told him.

“From Kit? Hey, let’s see it!” Tommy cried.

Doris put it back in her pocket. “It’s to Mother and Dad,” she said
severely.

Tommy shrugged. “Come on, gang,” he cried. “Let’s get some cookies.”

The boys disappeared into the kitchen, and Doris went upstairs.

“Mother!” she called. “Letter from Kit!”

Mrs. Craig was putting on her hat when Doris came into her room. She
smiled at her daughter and held out her hand. “Good news, I hope,” she
smiled, taking the envelope.

“Kit’s news is always good,” Doris said. “College seems to agree with
her.”

Mrs. Craig hastily scanned the note, nodding and then frowning as she
read. “Kit has spring fever,” she decided as she folded the letter and
slipped it back into the envelope. “Claims she’s bored with life.” She
smiled to herself. “But after her trip to Washington, I think she’ll
feel better.”

“What trip to Washington?” Doris asked.

Mrs. Craig grinned at the thought. “Kit has been elected president of
the Hope College Historical Society, you know, dear. There’s a large
history convention in Washington after classes let out in June. There
will be girls and boys from all over the country.”

Doris grinned. “And of course there will be Frank Howard in Washington.”

Mrs. Craig sighed. “I think that’s what’s wrong with Kit. I think she
misses Frank more than she will admit.”

Doris sat down on her mother’s bed. “Do you think Kit will marry Frank,
Mother?”

“Good heavens!” Mrs. Craig exclaimed. “How should I know? They _are_
very close friends ... and they have been for several years.”

“Ever since Kit caught Frank in the berry patches,” Doris giggled.
It was typical of Kit that she should have trapped the bright young
entomologist in an effort to catch a berry thief. A bantering
friendship had grown out of this episode, and lately there had been
sure signs that the friendship between Kit and Frank was ripening into
affection.

Mrs. Craig powdered her nose. “Do you want to ride with me to the
hospital, Doris?”

“Yes, I’d like to,” Doris said. “I want to talk to you about something,
anyway.”

On the way over to the clinic, Doris said, “There’s a sort of contest
at school, Mother. A music contest.”

Mrs. Craig smiled. “That’s nice, dear,” she said. “Are you going to
enter it?”

Doris frowned slightly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.
It’s for a scholarship to a music school. I don’t know whether I want
to try for it or not.”

Mrs. Craig stared at her. “But good heavens, why not? What school is
it?”

“Timothy College in North Carolina. It’s very small--all music, you
know. It’s awfully far away, too. And with Jean getting married and Kit
away at school, well, I don’t know whether I want to leave home or not.”

Mrs. Craig slowed down the car. “Let’s talk about this with your
father. But, dear, I think you should at least try out. It would be a
shame to let your talent go to waste.”

Doris hesitated. Then she said, “But Mother, I don’t want to go away!
I’m not like Jean and Kit. I’d just like to stay right here in Elmhurst
forever and ever. I like it at home.”

Mrs. Craig tapped the steering wheel with her fingers. “Doris, I want
you to enter that contest. Why shouldn’t you have the right to go away
to school? We were able to send Jean to New York for a year of Art
School,” she said, referring to Jean’s experiences which are recounted
in _Jean Craig in New York_. “Then Kit won herself the chance to go to
Hope College. Now, it’s your turn.”

“But Mother....” Doris began.

Mrs. Craig shook her head. “I don’t know very much about art or music,
my dear,” she interrupted, “but your father and I have always felt
that you were extremely talented. Frankly, I’ve always felt that you
were the most talented of all my daughters. Jean is a good artist.
Competent, I think she calls herself. But she has no illusions about
being a great artist. I think perhaps you have the ability to develop
into a fine musician.”

Doris shook her head. “Oh, golly,” she said, “I just don’t want to go
through what Jean and Kit have gone through.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Craig asked, surprised.

“You know. You get yourself all ready to do something important in this
life, and then you fall in love with some man and want to get married.
Look how mixed up Jean was. And look at Kit now. She’s going to college
and has even talked about doing graduate work. But you and I know she’s
mad about Frank Howard and that she’ll probably just get married.”

Mrs. Craig repressed a smile. “Darling, you don’t just get married,”
she said gently. “Both Jean and Kit are much better prepared to become
good wives because they did develop their talents. I think you should
do the same.”

Doris sighed. “Maybe so,” she agreed. “Oh, golly! I’m selfish! I know
you’re worrying about Jack and his homecoming. It’ll be _so_ good to
have him home again!”

Jack was waiting when they arrived at the hospital. Jean and Sally
Hancock were in his room gathering his few belongings. Mrs. Craig shook
her head as she saw the thin, pale boy lying on the bed. His black
eyes seemed even larger than usual, but they were no longer dull and
glassy. They sparkled when they saw Mrs. Craig.

“Oh, Mother!” he cried. “I thought you’d _never_ get here! Golly, but
I’m tired of this room. Not that they haven’t been swell here, though.
Dr. Jenkins and Dr. Caulfield from Boston have been here almost all the
time. They talked a lot to me.”

“That’s fine, dear,” Mrs. Craig said briskly.

“But, gee, I sure missed Tommy. And the hens. Tommy doesn’t know how to
keep track of all those hens. I ... I don’t know what he’s gonna do,
now that I can’t help him.”

Jean patted Jack’s shoulder. “You’re learning young that no man is
indispensable to his business.”

He looked up at her. “Huh?” he said.

They all laughed. “Jean means that business has to go on no matter what
happens,” Mrs. Craig said, smiling. “And it usually does. Billy Ellis
and Buzzy Hancock were over this morning. They want to see you as soon
as you can have company.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack said. “They wrote me. Jeepers, what a swell gang
they are! Those dumb letters! They made me laugh till I hurt!”

Ted Loring brought in a wheel chair. “Here’s your chair, my lord,” he
called from the doorway. “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Craig. You’re looking
fine this morning. I’m going to ride over with you and help get our
patient back to bed, if that’s all right with you.”

Mrs. Craig smiled. “That’s very thoughtful, Ted. Mr. Craig is in town
this morning, and we could use a strong back.”

Ted grinned. “I heard about Mr. Craig’s new position. I think it’s
swell. We need an architect around this town, although I sort of like
these old New England designs.”

Mrs. Craig smiled. “He’s glad to be back at work, too.”

“I found out about it from Dr. Daley,” Ted explained. “I guess you know
he kept a pretty close eye on Mr. Craig while he was working on the
veterans’ houses. A nervous breakdown is nothing to fool around with.
But Dr. Daley seems to think he’s now in fine shape.”

Jean tucked a robe around Jack’s legs as they started out of the room.
“Take good care of him, Mother,” she said. “I’ll be home for dinner
tonight, you know.”

Jean watched the small procession move slowly down the hall. Then she
pulled her sketchbook from her pocket and began thumbing through it.

“Hi, gorgeous!”

Jean turned around to see Gerald Benson, the new intern, coming down
the hall. “Oh, good morning, Dr. Benson,” she said. She started to pass
him, but he blocked her path.

“I’ve just been having a lecture on the glories of one Miss Jean
Craig,” Dr. Benson said. “They sure go for you around here.”

Jean stared at him in surprise. “Whatever are you talking about?”

He shrugged. “I was ambling through the lobby with Dr. Barsch this noon
and _just_ happened to comment on the painting over the mantel down
there. And the good doctor ups and tells me that you did it!”

Jean giggled. “I’m afraid I did,” she admitted. “It’s not so glorious,
though,” she added.

“It’s good enough. I didn’t know you were an artist.”

Jean smiled. “I’m not. Not really. I studied for a year in New York.
And I like to paint for pleasure. As a matter of fact, I’m hoping to do
something with my art work combined with medicine.”

Dr. Benson whistled. “You mean surgical art? That’s a tough field.”

Jean grinned. “I know it is. But Dr. Barsch has encouraged me to try
my hand at it. I guess starting just about any time now, he’s going to
give me practice sketching operations here. As a matter of fact, I was
just going through my sketchbook. I’m working on anatomical drawings
from books now so I’ll be better at doing real life sketches.”

Dr. Benson put his hands on his hips. “Did you donate that painting to
the clinic as your contribution?”

Jean smiled again. “Well, not exactly,” she admitted. “You see, when
the hospital first opened, Ted Loring and I had a long talk about
clinics and things. And he gave me the idea, sort of. He said a clinic
was a place where people exercised cooperation, ingenuity and hard
work. So I put the idea down on canvas. You know, the man and woman and
child joining hands in a field of grain. And then, of all things, Dr.
Loring swiped it! _He_ donated it!”

Dr. Benson smiled wryly. “It sounds like a motto he might make up.”

“What’s the matter with it?” Jean demanded.

“Let’s go out tonight, and I’ll tell you,” Dr. Benson said.

She smiled at him. “I’m sorry, Dr. Benson, but I can’t.”

“But you’re off tonight. I saw the schedules.”

Jean smiled. “But I thought you knew. I’m engaged. I’m not free to
accept dates. I’m sure one of the other girls....”

“You mean you’re turning me down just because you’ve got a ring? I hear
your man is in Europe. That’s pretty far away. And a pretty little girl
like you shouldn’t be sitting home nights, just because--”

Jean brushed past him. “I’m sorry,” she said shortly.

Dr. Benson grabbed her arm. “Now wait, honey. Don’t get sore. I mean,
what’s the harm? I’m not asking you to break your engagement. I just
wanted to have some fun. You look as if you could use some yourself.”

Jean pulled free. “I’m sorry, Dr. Benson,” she said stiffly. “I’m very
busy just now.”

The intern watched her walk down the hall. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said,
“I’ll try again sometime. You’ll get lonely before too long.”

Jean marched into the students’ lounge and slammed the door behind her.
Eileen Gordon was lying on the couch reading a magazine. She looked up
as Jean came in.

“Why, Jean, what’s the matter?” she asked, looking at Jean’s angry
face. “Didn’t Jack get off all right?” Eileen sat up and closed her
magazine.

Jean sat down in an easy chair. “Oh, yes. Mother came for him just now.
Ted was sweet. He went home with them to help her get Jack settled in
bed at home.”

“Well, then, what’s wrong?” Eileen asked.

“Oh, nothing really, I guess. Only that new Dr. Benson asked me for a
date.”

Eileen sniffed. “Oh, is that all?” she asked. “Well, don’t worry about
it. He won’t ask you again.”

Jean stared at her. “Why?” she asked.

Eileen shrugged. “He asked me for a date when he first came here. I was
busy and told him so, and he hasn’t bothered me since.”

Jean shook her head. “It’s the principle of the thing,” she said.

“Maybe he didn’t know you’re engaged.”

“He knew, all right. He knew that Ralph is abroad, too. He said I might
be lonely.”

Eileen scowled. “So that’s the way he is! Well, that settles Dr. Benson
as far as I’m concerned. So he’d try to steal someone’s girl when the
someone isn’t around to fight for her.”

Jean laughed as she opened a coke. “Don’t be too hard on him. He wasn’t
exactly trying to steal me. He just asked to take me out.”

Eileen grimaced. “I know the type. You know, Jean, I’ve been around
hospitals a long time. And I’ve known a lot of doctors. They aren’t all
like Ted and Dr. Barsch and the rest of them here. Sometimes they get
pretty cynical. Yep, I know Dr. Benson’s type, all right!”




4. Emergency Operation


The following night Jean was on duty. She had just come up from early
supper when she was called into Dr. Barsch’s office.

“Miss Craig,” Dr. Barsch said briskly, “I haven’t much time to explain,
but if you will get your sketch pad, I want you to try to do a drawing
of an operation I’m about to perform. The little DuPrez boy is coming
in immediately. Acute appendicitis. Loring says we can’t wait. I’ve
already called the staff.”

Jean gasped. “You mean, you want me to go right in there and do a
drawing?” she asked.

Dr. Barsch nodded. “You can’t learn surgical art any better way. I
don’t expect to be able to use your sketch, but I want you to have the
practice.”

“Then you won’t use me to assist you?” she asked.

Dr. Barsch frowned impatiently. “Naturally not. Now, please hurry. Get
your materials, and I’ll see you upstairs.”

Jean hurried to her room and snatched up her sketch pad and pencils.
She ran down the hall towards the operating room and went into the
small lavatory to scrub. Two women were scouring the room, and Helen
Pierce was sterilizing instruments. When Jean had finished scrubbing,
Helen helped her with her gloves and mask.

“This is a real emergency,” Helen muttered as she checked her
instruments. “They always wait till the last minute before they call
the doctor.”

“Will it be a dangerous operation?” Jean asked.

Helen shrugged. “That depends. Usually an appendectomy is a snap. That
is, easy for the patient. But it can be ticklish if the appendix is
ready to break open.”

Dr. Barsch and Ted came in to scrub up. The girls worked in silence,
and the only sound was that of the rushing water in the lavatory. Dr.
Henry, the anesthetician, bustled in and, after scrubbing, came over to
the sterilizer and peeked in.

“I can’t use ether, Miss Pierce,” he said. “You should know that.”
He grunted. “And if we could use a complete anesthetic, I’d choose
sodium pentothal. But this will have to be a local block. The child
undoubtedly has eaten today.”

Helen nodded and went over to the cabinet. Carefully she selected an
injection syringe with her tongs and dropped it into the sterilizer.
Dr. Henry checked his supply of anesthetic, nodded, and rubbed his
gloved hands together briskly.

Jean frowned. “Why can’t you use ether, Dr. Henry?” she asked.

The portly, middle-aged anesthetician turned around to face her. “Some
people get very sick when we put them out. Particles of food or liquid
are apt to catch in their lungs. They haven’t the control of their
reflexes that people who are awake do. There’s always the danger of a
patient choking to death.”

“Then the child will be conscious?” Jean asked. “He’ll know what’s
going on? I know we’ve used that frequently for adults, but won’t it be
difficult with a child?”

Ted laughed. “He won’t know much. We already have him so groggy with
sedatives that he doesn’t know _what’s_ going on.”

Dr. Barsch frowned impatiently. “What’s keeping them? Every minute we
lose gives us less of a chance.”

As he spoke, the small patient was wheeled into the operating room.
Jean’s heart went out to the tiny, white figure lying on the table. His
eyes were dulled, and his body was partially relaxed. But his face was
a study in fear.

Dr. Barsch stepped over to the table. “All right, son,” he said gently.
“I’m going to put a curtain right over your middle. You know what
you’re going to feel?”

Gene DuPrez shook his head, and he gazed pleadingly at Dr. Barsch.

“Ever been to the dentist?”

The boy nodded.

“And did he poke a needle into your gum so it wouldn’t hurt when he
drilled into your tooth?” Dr. Barsch asked.

Gene nodded solemnly. Sally, who had come in with the boy, and Helen
turned him over on his side and bent his legs up to meet his chest.

“Well, we’re going to do the same thing now. We’re only going to hurt
you enough to make you say, ‘ouch’.”

Gene interrupted Dr. Barsch by saying, “Ouch!”

“That’s it, Gene,” Dr. Barsch said. “You’re going to feel something
else, now. Your toes will get all numb. Then your legs, and then your
tummy. Now, I have a feather, and I’m going to tickle your tummy. You
tell me when you can’t feel it any longer.”

Sally drew the curtain across the boy’s abdomen so that he couldn’t see
below his chest. Then she took her station by Gene’s head. Smiling down
at him, she tousled his hair. “Feel kind of sleepy, don’t you?” she
asked.

“It still tickles,” Gene murmured.

On the other side of the curtain, Dr. Barsch had made the incision. He
smiled and silently gave thanks for the anesthetic which made a deep
abdominal wound feel like a tickle. But his smile disappeared when he
reached the appendix.

“Oh, brother!” Ted said, shaking his head. Jean glanced at the open
wound and began to sketch rapidly.

“Here’s one we caught just in time,” Dr. Barsch sighed. He spoke so
low that Gene couldn’t hear him. “Look at that appendix. I’ll be lucky
if I can get it out without breaking it. When, in heaven’s name, did
you first see this boy?” he asked Ted.

Ted bit his lip. “Ten minutes before we came over. I didn’t even stop
to do a blood count on him. Let’s not talk about it. I get cold shivers
up and down my back when I think of how close his mother came to giving
him something for his stomach ache instead of calling a doctor.”

Jean shuddered at the thought.

“It still tickles, doctor,” Gene said in a piping voice. “I’ll tell you
when it stops.”

Jean grinned as she bent over her sketch.

“Something just stopped her,” Ted continued. “She called me instead. A
hunch, she said.”

“God loves His small creatures,” Dr. Barsch replied. “All right, here
we go.” He lifted the swollen appendix from the wound with great care.
With a sigh of relief, he placed it carefully in a receptacle on the
table. The distended organ broke as he laid it down.

“Ye Gods!” Ted said, turning white. “That’s the closest one I’ve ever
seen!”

Dr. Barsch grinned as he started to sew up the incision. “It’s all over
now, doctor. Gene, does it still tickle?”

“A little bit,” the boy answered. “Not much.”

“Good boy!” Dr. Barsch said. He finished his sewing and nodded. “What
about now?”

“I don’t feel anything now,” Gene admitted. “You going to cut into
my stomach now?” his face became tense with fear. Sally rubbed his
forehead and grinned.

“Too bad, Gene,” she said. “You missed the show.”

Gene stared up at her. “What?” he asked.

Dr. Barsch dressed the wound and pulled the curtain aside. “How do you
feel?” he asked.

“I’m ... I’m a little scared,” Gene admitted.

Dr. Barsch laughed. “We just played a dirty trick on you, son. Your
operation’s all over.”

Sally gave the patient an injection, and he relaxed again.

“You’re going to sleep for a while now. And when you wake up, you’ll be
back in your room with a sore tummy.”

Gene relaxed and slipped off to sleep as Sally and Helen wheeled him
down the corridor.

Dr. Barsch slipped off his gloves and glanced at the broken appendix.
He shook his head. “Get that to the lab right away,” he said. “Miss
Hancock can take it down when she gets back. Miss Craig, you come on
down to my office with me. I want to take a look at that sketch.”

When they reached Dr. Barsch’s office, Jean laid her sketch pad on the
desk for Dr. Barsch to see. He picked it up and nodded.

“Sit down, Miss Craig. Dr. Loring will be down in a minute. I want him
to have a look at this, too. Then we’ll get some coffee. I could use
some.”

Jean smiled. “I’ll go down to the kitchen and get some while we’re
waiting,” she offered. “You must be tired.”

Dr. Barsch waved his hand. “Sit down. The coffee can wait.” He tapped
the sketch with his forefinger and looked at it thoughtfully for a
moment. Then he searched among the papers on his desk for a letter.
Finding it, he nodded his head as he read it over.

“I think maybe we’ve found a way to put your talents to practical use,
Miss Craig,” he said slowly.

Jean jumped up. “Really?” she cried. “But how? I mean, I’m so far
from ready to do anything useful with my art. Surgical art is such a
specialized and highly skilled profession!”

The doctor nodded gravely. “Yes, it most certainly is,” he said
thoughtfully. “And of course the sketch you did for us just now is
still rather amateurish. But I was right about you, I think. It shows a
great deal of promise.”

Jean grinned with pleasure. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said.

Dr. Barsch picked up the letter again. “I’ve been in touch with a
medical publisher about you. You see, whenever they hear of a promising
young artist who knows something about medicine, they leap at the
chance to sign him--or her--up. It doesn’t happen often. Not often
enough, that an artist is also interested in medicine.”

Jean clasped her hands together. “You mean, some publisher wants me to
do drawings for him?”

Dr. Barsch laughed. “Not so fast, young lady. No, their offer isn’t
quite that spectacular.” He rubbed his hands together. “But in a sense,
I suppose maybe the offer is in its way more spectacular. You see, they
want you to take more art courses.”

“But ...” Jean began.

The doctor held up his hand. “Wait till I finish,” he said. “I think
it can all be figured out quite simply. You will finish your nurse’s
training this summer. And then, as I understand it, you are thinking
about being married.”

Jean hesitated. “Of course no definite date has been set yet.”

Dr. Barsch stroked his chin. “Well, let’s assume that the wedding
will take place soon after your graduation. When you reach Saskatoon,
Saskatchewan, you can begin a correspondence course in art, can’t you?”

Jean grinned. “I had sort of planned to continue studying art after
Ralph and I were married.” She looked down. “You see, I don’t want to
forget my skills just because I’m being married.”

The doctor grinned. “Fine! Fine!” he said. “Then my little plan _can_
be worked. This publishing company is prepared to award you a sort of
scholarship so that you can take the course. In return, you will have
to make arrangements with a hospital near your home in Saskatchewan to
attend their operations and do sketching for the company when you have
completed the course.”

Jean thought a moment. “There is a small hospital near Ralph’s
ranch,” she said. “Ralph has told me about it. Certainly I could make
arrangements with them to sketch at their operations.”

Dr. Barsch nodded. “Of course I’ll help you arrange things. I think
maybe if they realize you’re a student of mine, there won’t be much
trouble with the details.”

“Someone open the door,” Ted called from outside. “I’ve got coffee for
everyone.”

Jean went over to the door. Ted brought in the tray and set it on the
desk.

“You should have let me get it,” Jean cried.

Ted smiled. “Division of labor, my child. Dr. Barsch operates, you
sketch and I just stand around. So I’m elected coffee boy.”

“Take a look at Miss Craig’s sketch, Loring,” Dr. Barsch said, handing
him the pad. “I think it’s pretty fair.”

“That’s high praise, coming from you,” Ted laughed. He looked at it
carefully. “Uh huh,” he said, nodding. “It looks swell. Jeannie, you
could make a career out of doing this.”

Jean laughed. “Dr. Barsch and I have just been discussing that.”

“But of course you’re off to the altar, and there’s the end of a
beautiful career,” Ted said dolefully.

“Oh, no!” Jean cried.

Dr. Barsch smiled slyly. “Sounds to me as if _you_ are against
marriage, Dr. Loring. I suppose Miss Simpson realizes this?”

Ted blushed. “Oh, marriage is all right,” he protested.

Dr. Barsch lit his pipe. “Marriage is all right. Hm,” he said
playfully. “I’ve a notion to tell Miss Simpson how enthusiastic you
are about the institution of wedlock. You and your city ways! Moon and
pussyfoot around and steal the best doggoned Supervisor of Nurses I
ever had! All right, indeed!”

Ted shifted painfully. “Oh, I’m very much in favor of marriage,
doctor....”

“That’s good to hear,” Dr. Barsch said.

“It’s just that Jean draws so well....”

“And Miss Simpson makes such a good Supervisor,” Dr. Barsch added.

Ted squirmed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You can’t have her back!” He
looked at Jean’s and Dr. Barsch’s faces. They were grinning.

“Dr. Barsch, you shouldn’t tease him so,” Jean said lightly. “Isn’t it
all right to tell him about the plan?”

Dr. Barsch puffed at his pipe. “Of course, my dear.”

Breathlessly, Jean repeated Dr. Barsch’s plans for her to Ted. The
young doctor nodded and clapped his hands together in agreement.

“Marvelous idea, Jeannie,” he said. “I think Ralph will like the idea,
too.”




5. April Wedding


Ethel’s and Ted’s wedding was scheduled for April eighteenth. The first
two weeks of the month were dreary and rainy. The skies above Elmhurst
were constantly gray, and the countryside looked bleak and unpromising
after the long winter. Tempers were short at the clinic. The season of
spring colds was on, and Jean felt a great depression as she tended
her duties as an upperclass nurse. Because of the shortage of graduate
nurses at the hospital, Jean and her classmates were used almost as
regular nurses. Jean had to attend courses in chemistry, biology and
dietetics along with her regular duties, and as the spring term got
under way, she was now in charge of the pediatric ward.

A whole procession of youngsters flooded both the doctors’ offices and
the hospital wards. And Jean’s days were full of bathing youngsters,
trying to put dosages of penicillin and sulpha into unwilling small
mouths, taking temperatures and pulses of the squirming children. She
tried to study at night after writing her daily letter to Ralph, but
often she would steal back into the ward to hold the hand of a tiny,
miserable patient lonely for his mother. Jean found solace in the quiet
ward at night. The children were calmer, there were no adults about,
and she couldn’t see the dreadful, gloomy sky.

Ordinarily, Jean would have welcomed the chance to work so closely with
Ted, whose capacity as pediatrician kept him closely in touch with the
ward. But Ted was cross and nervous. For hours at a time, he swabbed
throats and sprayed sniffly noses and tried to reason with mothers
weary of the winter and of housefuls of pent-up children.

The radio forecasts were always the same: showers.

“April showers,” Jean remarked one day bitterly as she gazed up at the
sky which was sending down its interminable drizzly rain. “If these are
showers, let me know when one stops and the next one starts, someone!”

Only Ethel and Jack seemed to retain their high spirits. Ethel was
too excited about her wedding even to notice the weather. And Jack,
bedridden already a month, had drawn from some inner source a courage
and even temper which amazed everyone around him. Although Jack
knew that he would be in bed for many months, he never seemed to be
depressed. He made a full life for himself within his tiny room.
Although he wasn’t allowed many visitors, he soon fell into a routine
which occupied his mind, but which didn’t excite him too much.

But just when everyone decided that it would never stop raining, the
sun came out. The sky was blue with fluffy white clouds, and spring had
come to Elmhurst. Trees which had been barren two weeks before were
now covered with soft green buds. The whole countryside softened with
new-growing greenery. The river ran with vigorous energy to carry its
extra burden to the ocean, and the air smelled clean, as if the heavens
had spent two energetic weeks in spring housecleaning.

The day of Ethel’s wedding was cool and clear. The ceremony was to be
held in the Craigs’ parlor, and the whole family was busy making final
preparations.

Doris was singing “Brightly Dawns Our Wedding Day” from the _Mikado_ as
she dusted the living room furniture for the third time. Jean arranged
the wedding presents on the dining room table for everyone to see. She
sighed gently as she laid out the sterling silver which Mrs. Loring
had given her son and daughter-to-be. And she smiled in satisfied
anticipation as she arranged the kitchen equipment which had been the
contribution of the nurses at the shower. She handled the linens and
china with loving care.

Mrs. Craig ran downstairs and popped her head into the dining room.

“Time to get dressed, dear. I want you to be ready so you can help me
with the bride. Oh, dear,” she sighed, “where _is_ that girl?”

“Ethel?” Jean asked. “I suppose she’s still at the hospital. If I
know Ethel, she’s probably making a long list of instructions to leave
behind her.” She sighed. “Oh, Mother,” she cried, “all these lovely
things! And you should see that terrible little apartment they’re going
to have to put them in! Darn it, anyhow! Why couldn’t Ted have been
a veteran? Then he could have one of the houses Dad designed for the
veterans’ project. Now, where on earth will they put all these things
in that stuffy little place?”

Mrs. Craig smiled knowingly. “Never mind, dear. Ethel can store things
here if she wants to, till she has a better place. Now hurry, Jean.
With everyone dressing here, we have to hustle.”

Jean obediently went upstairs. Mrs. Craig went in to send Doris up to
dress, muttering, “Ethel should have come to breakfast as I told her
to. She probably didn’t eat a thing.”

As she spoke, Ethel came in the front door. Mrs. Craig stretched out
both hands to her, and Ethel grabbed them. She attempted to smile.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it for breakfast, Mrs. Craig,” she said.
“But there were just a few things I wanted to take care of at the
hospital before I left.”

Jean bent over the upstairs railing and called down, “What did I tell
you, Mother?”

Mrs. Craig smiled in despair. “Oh, child, this is your wedding day!
Now, let’s get you upstairs and into your finery.”

Suddenly Ethel burst into tears. Mrs. Craig put her arms around her
and drew her over to a chair.

“I ... I don’t _want_ to get married,” Ethel cried. “I ... well, I just
don’t want to get married!”

Mrs. Craig smiled knowingly and patted the girl on the shoulder. “I
know, my dear. I know just how you feel....”

“They’re so short-handed over at the hospital. They can’t spare any
nurses,” Ethel sobbed. “I just can’t get married now! There are too
many things to do!”

Suddenly her eyes brightened. “Do you think Ted would understand if we
called the wedding off? I mean, just till I finish everything that has
to be done at the hospital?”

Mr. Craig came into the front hall together with Aunt Becky. He stopped
at the sight of Ethel’s tearful face and stared at her in alarm.

“Great heavens!” he exclaimed. “Tears on your wedding day?”

Becky elbowed him out of the way and came over to Ethel. “Oh, run along
with you, man,” she snapped at the bewildered Mr. Craig. “There isn’t a
girl alive who doesn’t get plumb nervous at the thought of her wedding
day!” She turned to Ethel. “Now, now, child,” she said, “you just have
a good cry, and....”

Mr. Craig interrupted Becky with a loud laugh. He threw back his head
and roared. “If you think you’re nervous, my girl,” he said, “you
should see Ted, now. When I stopped in to see him, his poor mother was
trying to help him dress. Ted was hopping around on one foot like a
scared chicken....”

Mrs. Craig touched her husband’s arm. “All right, dear,” she said, “now
run along and get _yourself_ dressed.”

As Mr. Craig went upstairs, whistling, Ethel composed herself and
smiled at the two women.

“Poor Ted,” she grinned. “He’s _so_ helpless. And of course he’s
scared! He needs someone to look after him.” She glanced at her watch.
“Good heavens!” she cried, “I’d better hurry and dress! Mrs. Craig,
where is my gown?”

Mrs. Craig smiled. “Your clothes are up in Jean’s room, dear. Doris and
Jean are waiting to help you. I’ll be up, myself, in a few minutes.”

Ethel threw her arms around Mrs. Craig’s neck and hugged her. “How can
Ted and I ever thank you for what you are doing for us?”

“Humph!” Becky snorted. “Now, scat, girl. And Marge, you come out
with me to the kitchen. I want to unload my basket.” She shook the
overflowing basket of last-minute additions to the party food which she
was carrying.

Ethel nearly collided with Tommy on the stairway.

“Hi, beautiful,” Tommy said, grinning. “I hereby swear my eternal
devotion to you on your wedding day.”

Ethel laughed. “You idiot! Whatever do you mean?”

Tommy shook his head. “Only for you. For you only, I say, would I
struggle into this!” And he waved a stiff collar under her nose. “That
is, outside of the immediate family.”

As Tommy reached the bottom of the stairs, still muttering about his
collar, the front door flew open, and Ted, followed by a distraught
Mrs. Loring, came dashing into the hall. Ted confronted Tommy, his face
twisted in wrath.

“Tommy, where’s your father?” he demanded.

Tommy stared at the bridegroom.

“Now, now, dear,” Ted’s mother clutched at his arm, “don’t upset
everyone, now. Calm yourself!”

Ted turned to face his mother. “But you _know_ this means the wedding’s
off! How can a man get married when...?”

“Huh?” said Tommy.

“The apartment! The furniture! Gone! Everything’s gone! I’ve been
robbed! The apartment wasn’t much, but it was a place to live, and
Ethel and I picked out all our furniture and had it sent to that place.
Now it’s gone!”

Mrs. Loring took Ted’s hand. “Now listen, son,” she said, “there must
be an explanation. People don’t run off with a houseful of furniture.”

Mr. Craig came downstairs.

“Well, hello, Mrs. Loring,” he said, shaking her hand. “And Ted. I’m
afraid I have to do the honors. The women are all upstairs dressing.”

Mrs. Loring smiled wryly. “Mr. Craig, forgive this ridiculous son of
mine. We would have come over at the proper time when everything was
ready. But Ted has some fool notion that he’s been robbed.”

Mr. Craig chuckled. “If Ted didn’t come crashing into a party, I would
know there was something wrong. Did he ever tell you about the first
time we met?”

Mrs. Loring smiled as if she knew her son’s habits. “I can imagine the
entrance he made was spectacular,” she said.

Mr. Craig laughed at the memory. “It certainly was. We gave a large
barn dance to celebrate the building of the clinic. Dr. Gallup was in
the midst of introducing Dr. Barsch to the community when, bang! The
lights all went out. Seems as if Ted had come in and tripped over the
light cords.”

Mrs. Loring laughed despairingly. “Oh, Ted,” she sighed. “I’m afraid
you had a typical introduction to my son,” she said to Mr. Craig.

“Mother!” Ted cried, “how can you stand around swapping tales with Mr.
Craig when I’ve been robbed?”

Mr. Craig looked at Ted gravely. “Suppose you start from the beginning
and tell me the whole story.”

“Well, sir, I went over to see the apartment this morning to check on
last minute details, you know. The landlady told me that she didn’t
_have_ an apartment for me! I told her that was ridiculous and that I’d
already paid my first month’s rent and that I had a whole apartment
full of furniture moved in not two days ago. She showed me the
apartment and there wasn’t a stick of it ... there wasn’t anything in
it! Then she handed me back my money!” Ted’s face became redder.

Mr. Craig began to chuckle. “How much rent did she want for those three
rooms?”

Ted glowered. “Sixty-five a month.”

“Sixty-five a month is a little high for children just setting up
housekeeping. I tell you what, Ted. There’s no point in upsetting your
wedding by keeping it from you any longer. You see, for forty-five a
month, you can have a regular house.”

Ted stared at Mr. Craig. “I don’t understand, sir,” he said.

Mr. Craig smiled. “Mrs. Craig and I went over to see your apartment
a week or so ago. Frankly, Mrs. Craig didn’t think much of it. So we
decided to move you out. It just happens I have a house for rent. In
the housing project that I designed. It’s been open for four days,
only, and they’re pretty nice little houses. The builders gave me one
as a sort of bonus, and I want to rent it, of course. Perhaps it was
presumptuous of me....”

Ted gasped. “This ... this is a miracle. But it’s too much! We couldn’t
possibly accept it!”

Mr. Craig shook his head. “Mrs. Craig and I are very anxious to see you
two settled nicely. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Ethel.”
He handed Ted a set of keys. “Here you are, son. You’ll find your
furniture at this address.”

Mrs. Loring sat down. “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Craig,” she
murmured.

Ted sat down and stared at the keys in his hand. Mr. Craig patted him
on the shoulder and turned to his son. “Hey, Tommy,” he called. “Come
here, and I’ll fix your collar.”

Only the members of the Craig family even suspected that Ethel had shed
tears less than an hour before the ceremony. When she came down the
stairs on Dr. Barsch’s arm, she was the perfect picture of a radiant
bride. The wedding was held in the front parlor with the family and
hospital staff in attendance. It was a regular old-fashioned wedding,
and the fragrance of roses and lilacs filled the parlor as the minister
read the time-revered words. And from the silent congregation came the
sound of muffled sobs--not from the happy Mrs. Craig, who beamed on the
beautiful bride, nor from Mrs. Loring, who smiled at her new daughter
with contented pride, but from Jean, who suddenly felt the tragic
loneliness of a girl whose beloved is many, many miles away.




6. Dr. Benson Confesses


Ethel and Ted had gone on a short tour of New England for their
honeymoon. The routine of the hospital resumed, and Eileen Gordon
became official Supervisor of Nurses. Jean was amused at the comparison
of the two girls. For Eileen had taken over Ethel’s classes, and Jean
and the other girls soon realized that Eileen was every bit as devoted
to her profession as Ethel had been. Eileen was a bit different from
Ethel in that she was new at handling girls. But there was no question
about the fact that she knew her business. And she was friendly and
helpful, so the students became used to her brusque manner in class and
on the floor.

Jean, Sally, Hedda, Lucy Peckham and Ingeborg were all in dietetics
class when Eileen took over the class for the first time. The new
Supervisor was plainly nervous, and the students smiled encouragingly
at her as she opened the notebook which Ethel had left for her.

Eileen toyed with a pencil as she scanned Ethel’s notes. “You all know,
or should know, by this time,” she said, “the importance of a balanced
diet.” She smiled at the class. “I’m rather hoping that one of you will
plan to specialize in dietetics, because we will be needing a good one
for our own kitchen. But we all have to know about diet ... in fact,
every human being should know about it.” She stopped, realizing that
she was being too repetitious and long-winded.

“Let’s start with the three major groups of foods. Miss Peckham, will
you please name them?”

Lucy smiled and said, “The three major classifications of foods are
fats, carbohydrates and proteins.”

Eileen nodded. “And who can tell me what a calory is?”

The class groaned in mock despair. Counting calories was an unpleasant
job which some of them occasionally had to do.

“Something we could do without,” Sally said flippantly.

Eileen laughed with the rest of the class. “As a woman, I agree with
you, Miss Hancock,” she said. “But as a nurse, I have to send you to
the foot of the class.” She looked about the classroom. “Miss Craig,
will you tell Miss Hancock what a calory is and why she couldn’t
possibly get along without it?”

Jean laughed. “A calory is a unit of heat ... or, in the case of food
which provides fuel, weight. And Sally would have to have calories or
give up eating altogether.”

Eileen nodded as the rest of the class tittered. “Can anyone name foods
which do not have calories?”

The class thought. Lucy raised her hand. “Coffee doesn’t have any
calories,” she said.

Eileen frowned a little and nodded. “Strictly speaking, I think you
can’t exactly call coffee a food. It’s actually a drug ... or, at
least, its main function is that of a drug.”

“How about salt?” Hedda asked.

“That’s right,” Eileen said. “But of course no pure minerals have
calories. The function of the mineral is not to provide body heat.” She
flipped a page. “Now let’s talk about diets and people. Can someone
name three special categories of people needing different diets?”

Jean held up her hand. “Adults, children and expectant mothers.”

Eileen nodded. “Very good. Any more?”

Sally raised her hand. “Sick people have to have lots of different
diets, depending on what’s the matter with them. And an office worker
needs different food from the food needed by a laborer.”

Eileen hesitated. “You’re right about the first category, but don’t
forget that all people need the same basic foods, no matter what they
do.”

“All except Dr. Benson,” Lucy muttered under her breath. “He eats
people. He’s a wolf!”

Eileen caught part of Lucy’s remark and blushed fiery red. She
hesitated a moment and then decided to pass on to something else. For
the rest of the hour, the class discussed the essentials of a balanced
diet. And when Eileen dismissed them, the class adjourned for a few
minutes in the lounge before they returned to duty.

They all helped themselves to cokes from the machine in the lounge
and relaxed. Sally giggled as she opened her coke bottle. “That was a
lovely remark you made in class, Lucy,” she said. “Eileen heard you,
too.”

Lucy made a face. “I don’t care. She feels the same way we all do.”

Jean looked questioningly at Lucy. “I didn’t know you knew Dr. Benson
that well.”

Sally giggled. “Haven’t you heard? Lucy had a date with the man himself
last night.”

“Really?” Jean asked.

Sally nodded. “Lucy and I made a bargain that the first one he would
ask yesterday to go out would date him. Just to see if his bark was as
bad as his bite. So he asked Lucy, and Lucy is forthwith ready to make
her report to the clan.”

Lucy took a drink of her coke. “It wasn’t bad at all,” she confessed.
“In fact, I would have been quite flattered by all the lovely words.
That is, I would have been if my name had been Jean.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Lucy?” Jean asked.

“Such a crush on you our Dr. Benson has! He talked on and on about you
till I almost got insulted.”

The door opened and Eileen came in. “Okay if I join you?” she asked.

“Come on in,” Sally answered. “We’re having a time roasting Dr. Benson.
Lucy went out with him last night.”

“So that’s what was behind the remark you made in class,” Eileen said.
“Well, how was it?”

“We went to a movie,” Lucy continued. “Then the dear doctor started to
make a play for poor little me....”

“Oh, goodness, Lucy!” Eileen interrupted. “You aren’t actually
_telling_ them all about your date!”

“She went out with him on a sort of a dare,” Sally explained.

Eileen shook her head. “Even so,” she said, “it doesn’t seem right to
talk about it. It’s sort of unkind, don’t you think?”

Sally grinned. “He has it coming. You know perfectly well he’s been
chasing everyone in sight ever since he got here. The perfect redhead,
disposition and all.”

Jean shook her head. “I think Eileen’s right,” she said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Sally cried. “Now all at once Dr. Benson is
perfectly okay, and we aren’t to betray his confidences.”

Eileen smiled. “He’s stupid in lots of ways. But he is a good doctor,
and he’s awfully young, after all. Maybe he’s never been away from home
before.”

Sally shrugged. “Well, if you feel so tenderly towards him, why don’t
you go out with him, yourself?”

Eileen chuckled. “Never! He’s not my type, in the first place.”

Jean laughed and put down her coke bottle. “I’m on duty, so I’d better
get back to work. I’m glad you had such a lovely time, Lucy.” She
stretched and yawned. “Well, so long, gang,” she said.

She hurried down the hall of the second floor to look at the call
sheet. Each day after lunch, the students were assigned to special
duties for the day, and Jean wanted to check on her assignment. She
frowned as she saw her name opposite that of Dr. Benson. Then she
grinned sheepishly and shrugged her shoulders. As long as he was on
duty, Dr. Benson would be professional and mannerly. Jean determined
that she would be as pleasant as she could be to the young man.

Dr. Benson was making routine checks in the contagious ward when Jean
found him. He seemed very grave as he examined his patients. Jean noted
with satisfaction that he made very thorough checks on each one. He
didn’t even seem to notice Jean as he worked. Quietly and efficiently
she followed him from patient to patient, making notes on each chart.

“Well, that’s that,” Dr. Benson finally said as he finished examining
his last patient. “Thanks, gorgeous.”

Jean smiled in spite of herself. “Anything else, Doctor?” she asked.

Dr. Benson ran his fingers through his red hair. “I guess not. Not
now, anyway. But tell me something, beautiful? How did I make out with
Lucy last night?”

Jean blushed and looked up at him questioningly. “I don’t have any
idea,” she asked. “Why?”

Dr. Benson grinned wryly. Jean noticed that he had a dimple near his
mouth. “That’s not a straight answer, and you know it, Miss Craig,” he
said. “I know I was up for discussion today. Well, did you all approve
of my technique?”

Jean instantly felt a warm surge of feeling for the doctor. He was
actually pathetic. He sensed her reaction and waved his hand as if to
brush it off.

“Forget it,” he said brusquely. “My ears are still burning from a
dressing down I got this morning from Dr. Barsch. I’m still shaky on
making out reports. Well, we all have to learn....” His voice trailed
off, and he grinned. “What’s new with the boy friend, cutie?” he asked.

“Ralph’s fine,” Jean answered. “He’ll be back next week.”

“I wonder if he knows what a lucky guy he is,” Dr. Benson said. “To
have a girl waiting for him ... you know, having someone he cares for
thinking so much of him. Oh well, skip it. This is just a bad day.”

“I know how to make out reports,” Jean said. “Let me help you with
yours.”

Dr. Benson stared at her. “You want to help me after the way I’ve
acted towards you? The other nurses treat me as if I were poison!”

Dr. Barsch came down the hall. He smiled affectionately at Jean and
nodded to Dr. Benson.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit rough this morning, Doctor,” he said gravely.
“Sometimes I forget how complicated these reports can be till one
becomes used to them.”

Dr. Benson actually blushed. “It was my fault, sir,” he admitted, “and
I had it coming. Miss Craig has promised to help me with my next batch.”

“Good. Good,” Dr. Barsch said. “Our great trouble around here is that
we’re too busy to teach routine. Well, a bright boy like you shouldn’t
have any trouble.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dr. Benson said. “I’ll try to live up to my notices.”

“I’m sure you will, son,” Dr. Barsch said, clapping his hand on the
boy’s shoulder. Then he smiled and walked off.

Dr. Benson pounded his fist into his hand. “That’s right,” he muttered.
“Makes me feel like a heel!”

“Oh, no!” Jean cried, “he didn’t mean to! Dr. Barsch is a very
considerate man!”

Dr. Benson shrugged and turned away. “I can’t figure out this deal at
all. People just aren’t as considerate as everyone here seems to be. I
know. I’ve been around.”

“You sound so tough,” Jean giggled.

“Well, I found out a long time ago there’s only one thing that really
is interested in you ... as long as you have it. And that’s the dollar.
People? Huh, they’re interested in you when you’ve got it. And I’m
going to get it!”

Jean nodded and said, “And that’s why you’re living on sixty dollars a
month as an intern now.”

“It’ll pay off,” the young doctor said.

Jean grinned in spite of herself. “A man with your intelligence could
make a fortune quickly in business ... real estate, for example. But of
course you chose medicine, and now you’re going to tell me you have to
pay back your parents’ financial investment by going through with it.”

Dr. Benson set his jaw. “My parents! That’s a laugh. I’ll tell you a
secret, Miss Craig. My fairy godmother sent me through school.”

Jean looked at him in amazement. “I don’t understand,” she said.

Dr. Benson smiled bitterly. “I think you do. You all do. I’m not good
enough for you and your friends to date. I am the bright young boy
from the other side of the tracks, didn’t you know? I’m the guy who
sent himself through school. Why, I was out on the streets of New York
peddling papers, shining shoes ... doing anything I could to support my
parents, when I was just a kid.”

Jean gasped. “Really, none of us knew. We didn’t have any idea...!” she
cried. “You were just so ... so fresh!”

Dr. Benson sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Skip it.”

“It really was awful of you to take Lucy out and talk all evening about
me,” Jean said softly.

“I suppose I should have talked about what I really was interested in.
Then you all could have had a real laugh!”

Jean frowned. “Now listen, Dr. Benson,” she said coldly, “I think
you’ve got things completely mixed up. If you weren’t so busy feeling
sorry for yourself, you might have noticed what we really are like
here.”

The doctor set his jaw and mimicked her voice as he said, “All right,
what are we all like here?”

Jean resisted the impulse to walk away from him and said, “I suppose
you realize that you’re not the only one who’s had trouble in the past.
Miss Simpson ... I mean, Mrs. Loring ... was raised in an orphanage,
you know. And her husband, Ted, is probably one of the most popular men
in the community today. He put himself through school. Only he never
thought it was any disgrace to make his own way.”

“And you? What about you and your fine family? You wouldn’t give me a
tumble,” Dr. Benson said.

“If it were any of your business, I could tell you how we managed to
stay together without any money after the war. And of course I won’t
date you when I’m engaged to someone else. Now forget this nonsense.
We’d all like you if you’d give us the chance.”

Dr. Benson grinned sheepishly. “I really blew off,” he admitted. “I
shouldn’t have bothered you.”

Jean smiled. “I’m glad you did. At least I know now why you seemed to
be so ... so....”

“So terrible. Okay, beautiful. Let’s get back to work. And listen, what
I’ve said is just between you and me. It’s no one else’s business.”

Jean grinned despairingly. Just when Dr. Benson seemed to let his guard
drop, he picked it up again. But now, at least, she felt confident that
he would discover how to make friends at the clinic.




7. Ralph Returns from Europe


Ralph flew back from Europe the first week in May. His plane landed at
Boston, and he caught the first train for Elmhurst. The day after he
left Bergen, Norway, he appeared at the Craigs’ front door.

Jean was waiting for him on the front porch when his taxi pulled up
before the house. She tore down the steps as he opened the car door,
and he jumped out and caught her in his arms. For several minutes
neither said a word.

“Oh, Jeannie,” Ralph muttered, holding her close to him. “Jeannie, my
darling!”

Jean burrowed her face against his coat and murmured. “Ralph, it’s been
_so_ long!”

He held her away from him. “Let me look at you,” he said tenderly.
“Gee, if anything, you’re more beautiful than ever!”

She crept close to him again. “Don’t let me go,” she pleaded lightly.
“I’m going to stay right here for the rest of my life!”

He stroked her dark curls. “You won’t find me difficult to deal with on
_that_ score,” he laughed. Then he became serious. “I’m not going away
from you ever again, Jeannie. It isn’t worth it. Everywhere I went,
everything I did, I kept wishing that you were with me to share it all.
Jeannie, you’re with me now, and you’re here to stay!”

“That’s right.”

Arm in arm they walked up to the house. “How is Jack?” Ralph asked as
they entered the front hall. “I was beside myself with worry when you
wrote about him.”

“I’m fine,” Jack called from the front parlor. Ralph dashed into the
parlor where the family was waiting for him.

“Welcome home, son,” Mrs. Craig said, embracing him. “We all missed you
very much.”

Doris threw her arms around Ralph’s neck and kissed him. “Jean’s been
nearly wild waiting for you,” she cried.

“Oh, Doris!” Jean cried.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you aren’t going to be coy when you’re engaged
to the man?” Doris said. “We were _all_ wild waiting for you!”

“Good to see you again,” Tommy said, holding out his hand.

Ralph grabbed the hand and tousled Tommy’s hair. “Hi, Tom. It’s great
to be back.” Then he went over to the couch and knelt down beside Jack.
“Hi, old-timer,” he said, taking Jack’s hand. “I hear you’ve been into
mischief since I last saw you. How are you feeling?”

“Just swell,” Jack said. “I’m getting lazy. How do you like my deal?
Everyone waits on me. I don’t have to do any chores. Whatta life!”

Ralph made a swipe at Jack’s chin with his fist. “Yep, some life,” he
agreed. “You and I have a lot of hours to spend together. I’ve got a
lot to tell you.”

Mrs. Craig brought in a tray of food, and Doris set up a card table
near the couch.

“You must be hungry,” Mrs. Craig said as she arranged the table. “I’d
take you into the dining room, but Jack probably wants you in here with
him.”

Ralph slipped his arm around Mrs. Craig’s waist. “Why is it that
mothers always think people don’t eat while they travel?”

Mrs. Craig made a face at him and said, “Very well, I’ll just take this
right back to the kitchen.”

“Hey, hey,” Ralph said, snatching a cookie from the plate she picked
up. “I’ll eat everything in sight. I _am_ hungry!”

They all laughed, and Mrs. Craig poured out steaming cups of hot
chocolate for everyone. Jean propped Jack up on the couch so that he
could manage his cup.

“Now, then,” Mrs. Craig said, “tell us what you’ve been doing.”

Ralph stopped munching his cookie and looked at her. “Don’t tell me
Jeannie hasn’t kept you posted?”

They all roared. “We can practically recite your letters by heart,”
Doris teased.

“Not all of them, I hope,” Ralph protested.

“Aw, she always left out the mushy parts,” Jack said. “She just read
the _interesting_ things.”

Ralph chuckled and winked at Jack. “Well, I did run into one good story
that I didn’t write Jeannie about. Right in Bergen. I was working
with a boy quite a bit younger than myself. He was the leader of the
underground movement during the war. After Norway was occupied by the
Nazis, that is.”

“Oh, good heavens!” Mrs. Craig cried. “Those poor people!”

Ralph looked up at her thoughtfully and then said, “Well, I don’t pity
them. Not after what I’ve seen.”

“Why, Ralph!” Jean cried. “Whatever do you mean?”

Ralph smiled. “They don’t want our pity, Jeannie,” he said softly.
“They need our help and understanding, but not pity. I wish I could
honestly say I had the nerve that that boy had. I admire him, and I
admire them all.”

“I’ll bet he had some stories to tell,” Tommy said.

“He wasn’t much older than you, Tom, when the Nazis invaded,” Ralph
said. “And he went right into the Underground. Blew bridges and
railroad tracks and things like that.”

Mrs. Craig slipped her arm around Tommy’s shoulder protectively.
“Heavens!” she cried. “A child like Tommy?”

“They had quite an arsenal,” Ralph chuckled. “And you’ll never believe
where their headquarters were. In the basement of Gestapo Headquarters.
Two of their boys were accepted into the Gestapo. Not one message went
out of Gestapo Headquarters that the Underground didn’t know about.”

“Mercy!” Mrs. Craig cried. “It makes me tremble just to think about it.”

Ralph smiled. “You don’t need to be sorry for people who went through
a war that way. Now they’re working like beavers to build up their
disrupted country. Their schools are all open, their railroads are
working just fine. The country looks good, and the people ... they’re
wonderful.”

Jean shook her head. “But all of occupied Europe isn’t like that,
Ralph?”

“Some countries are further along than others, of course. Paris looked
pretty good to me. Of course, in the eastern countries ... well, I
didn’t get a chance to see for myself,” Ralph said. “But now I have an
idea of the job we farmers have on our hands. Jeannie and I are going
to be pretty busy.” He swallowed the rest of his hot chocolate. “I’m
going upstairs to unpack. I’ve got some things to give out.”

Tommy carried his bag upstairs, and Ralph ran up behind him. Mrs. Craig
smiled heavily. “He’s seen a great deal,” she said gravely. “I guess it
wouldn’t hurt any of us to see what Europe is like today.”

Ralph came bounding into the room, his arms full of packages. “Here we
are,” he announced. “Now, let’s see. Oh yes, this is for you, Mother
Craig,” he said, handing her a parcel. Mrs. Craig exclaimed as she
opened the package and found a Swedish linen dinner cloth. “It’s
magnificent!” she cried. “Ralph, this is too much!”

He kissed her on the cheek. “I’m glad you like it, dear,” he answered.

For Tommy and Jack, Ralph had brought rucksacks from Bavaria, and for
Doris, Ralph had a music box from Dresden. Doris handled the delicate
instrument lovingly and turned it on. It played an air from _Don
Giovanni_.

“I couldn’t resist it when I heard it,” Ralph said. “I remembered how
fond you were of Mozart.”

“Oh, Ralph!” Doris cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

“This is for Kit,” Ralph said, pointing to a package. “Maybe you can
tuck it in her laundry case when you send it. It’s a Polish gypsy
outfit. I found it in Paris; I think it’s probably a Frenchman’s _idea_
of a Polish gypsy dress. But it looked so much like Kit that I had to
bring it along.”

He produced a chiming Swiss watch for Mr. Craig, and then he handed
Jean her package. Slowly she opened it. It was a set of earrings and
bracelet and pin.

“It’s not the real thing, Jeannie,” Ralph explained. “Costume jewelry,
I guess you call it. But it’s an exclusive Jacques Fath. I picked it up
in Paris.”

Jean sighed with delight as she fingered the filigreed pieces, “I’ve
never had anything so beautiful.”

“And French perfume for all the ladies,” Ralph announced, handing out
the tiny packages.

Everyone squealed and exclaimed over the dainty scents. Mrs. Craig
shook her head in mock resignation. “What am I going to do with you,
son? You spoil us all so.”

Ralph kissed her and grinned. “My family is a very special one. Oh,
here are a couple of gadgets for Aunt Becky and the Judge. Well, we can
see about them later.”

Mrs. Craig smiled tenderly at the young man. “Now, somehow, the family
seems almost whole again.”




8. Jean and Ralph Discuss Their Future


That evening, after dinner, Jean and Ralph slipped out of the house and
almost automatically headed down their favorite path to the banks of
the small river. They held hands as they walked. There was no need for
talk. Each felt warmly secure in the presence of the other.

Jean didn’t trust herself to speak until they had reached the river.
Every time she started to say something, the loneliness of the past
months welled up in her and tears came to her eyes. Then she would
clasp Ralph’s hand harder, as if to reassure herself that he had really
returned.

Ralph chuckled as they came to the river bank. “It’s really me,
darling,” he said softly. “I know how you feel, because I feel the same
way.”

Jean laid his hand against her cheek and let a few pent-up tears fall.
Ralph cupped her chin in his free hand and smiled at his beloved
tenderly.

“Tears for me?” he asked softly. “My little Jeannie, you mustn’t cry!”

Jean smiled and nodded. “It’s foolish to spoil your first evening at
home this way.” She shook her head as if to forbid further tears.

Ralph laughed. “It’s not spoiled. If anything, it’s enhanced. You know,
when you love someone as much as I love you, it’s hard to believe that
she can care so much for you. It’s wonderful to find out.”

She grinned. “But there’s so _much_ to talk about, Ralph! So much has
happened in the past two years which we have to talk about. Tears don’t
say anything!”

Ralph laughed again. “They say plenty, Jeannie. But if we must return
to the world of mundane facts, let’s hear about your past two years.”

She giggled. “So my activities seem dull to you,” she teased.

Ralph tousled her curly hair. “You’re a flirt, aren’t you? The feminine
mind can be _so_ illogical!”

Jean sat down under a tall maple tree. She leaned against Ralph’s
shoulder. “Now tell me,” she said. “Something happened while you were
abroad which is bothering you. I could see it in your eyes all the time
you were talking with the family.”

Ralph picked a blade of grass and put it between his teeth. “It’s
strange how one can be impressed by having a new light thrown on
something which he always knew but which never seemed important before.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“You know what my ranch in Saskatoon is like, don’t you, Jeannie? I
mean, you know what the land is like.”

“I know you have grain and some live stock....”

“And that a lot of my land isn’t cleared of forests as yet?”

She nodded.

Ralph drew his pipe from his coat pocket and lit it. “About once a year
I get a letter from the government asking me what I plan to do with my
uncut timber. I never paid much attention to it before. I liked having
the trees there. It was good for the soil. But I saw something in Paris
which has changed my mind completely.”

Jean looked at him in surprise. “What could happen in Paris that could
affect your forests?” she asked.

Ralph laughed. “This, my dear, is a good lesson in the size of the
world today. I live on an isolated Canadian ranch. But I have the
power, out there, to help or hinder businesses all over the world. That
timber I have should be cut and shipped to wood pulp manufacturers. But
let’s start at the beginning.”

Jean giggled. “That would help,” she admitted.

“You remember, I wrote you about attending the newspaper convention in
Paris last fall?”

Jean nodded.

“I wish you could have been there. Newspaper men from all over the
world, except from behind the Iron Curtain, attended it. It was
marvelous! Journalism professors from midwestern universities in the
United States rubbed shoulders and exchanged ideas with editors from
Iran and Tasmania. Believe me, it was a conference of tremendous
importance! I attended it, because I was in Paris to investigate crop
production of central France, and a friend of mine invited me to
attend.”

“You wrote something about the conference, I remember,” she said.

“Well, all these editors have the same complaint. There’s not enough
wood pulp in the world to furnish the newspapers with newsprint. In a
way, it’s wonderful, because that indicates that countries are printing
more papers. And that new countries are insisting on better and bigger
papers. Egypt, for example, has more newspapers than ever before.
And, of course, one of the first projects Israel, as a new country,
undertook was the establishing of fine papers.

“But we must have more wood pulp! As long as each of these countries,
large and small, can have their papers, this world is comparatively
safe. These papers can carry news ... facts of the world ... right to
the doors of all the people in the world. Then, the people themselves
can decide what is good and what is bad in this world.”

Jean sighed. “It sounds like a tremendous undertaking.”

“It is! And, Jeannie, if you could have seen those men! Arabians, who
have been literate for only a generation, were demanding free press
for their people. Mexicans pleaded for more newsprint to help educate
their people. The Israeli, of course, put the need for communications,
the need for stimulating the minds of their countrymen, above almost
everything else.”

Jean nodded. “Now I begin to see.”

Ralph threw away the blade of grass. “Of course I can’t do much with
the small forests I own. But I’ll do everything I can. When I get back
to Saskatoon, I’m going to start the largest project of timber cutting
and reforestation I can possibly undertake. You see, Jeannie, Canada
and Norway are practically the only countries in the world who can
produce wood pulp. If the job is up to us, then we’ve got to do it.”

Jean nodded solemnly. “Then that’s what you were doing in Norway,” she
said.

“Well, I had to go there, anyway, on business. But you can be sure that
I checked on the story of their wood pulp supply pretty carefully. It
isn’t too good. They do what they can. But Canada is so much larger and
has so many more forests.”

Jean suddenly giggled. “I’m intrigued with the idea of your being a
lumberjack.”

Ralph smiled. “I’ll be one; you’ll be one. The children will be
chopping timber as soon as they learn to crawl!”

She shook her head. “You know, dear,” she said, “we all have to
contribute to this life in the way we’re best equipped.”

Ralph nodded. “That’s true,” he agreed.

She smiled in spite of herself as she said, “I’ll be glad to buy
myself a pair of spiked hightop boots and become a lumberjack, if you
say so. But there is something else I can do better.”

“And that is?” he asked.

“I’m almost ashamed to tell you now,” Jean confessed, “because I’ll be
consuming paper rather than making it.”

Ralph chuckled. “That’s what it’s made for. Now, tell me.”

Jean told him of the plans which Dr. Barsch had made for her. How she
would take a correspondence course in art after they were married, and
how, when she finished her course, she would contract to do sketches of
operations at a nearby hospital for the medical publishers.

Ralph thought about the plan for a few minutes. “It’s a very good
idea,” he said gravely.

“You see, medicine and improved operative techniques are important,
too,” Jean said slyly.

Ralph chuckled. “I can’t deny you,” he grinned. “You know, there’s a
small hospital about five miles from the ranch. It’s a very good one,
and I know the board of directors there very well. I think they’d like
the idea. I’m sure we can arrange it.”

“Then you don’t mind my working after we’re married?” she asked.

Ralph shook his head. “One of the reasons I fell in love with you,
Jean, is that you seem to thrive on being busy. There’s something so
sturdy about you and your family. Take your father, for instance. I
saw a lot of men when they came out of the Army in bad shape. But I
never saw one who was more miserable because he couldn’t be working
from dawn to dusk every day.”

Jean sighed. “He’s like a different man now that he is working again.
Poor Dad! None of us even suspected how hard his invalid days were on
him till they were over.”

Ralph nodded. “You haven’t told me all the details of this new job,” he
said.

“Well, it’s very simple,” Jean explained. “You see, two years ago the
town decided to back a veterans’ housing project. Dad offered to be the
architect for the project. After years of inactivity, he was nearly out
of his mind. And of course he was terribly interested in anything to
help the young men and their families.”

“Of course,” Ralph said. “I remember that part. He was just starting
the assignment when I went abroad.”

“It’s taken two years to complete the project,” Jean said. “There were
some difficulties. A lot of people didn’t want low cost housing in
town. And then some ... well, I think they’re just plain bad people,
were afraid the project might attract new people to the community. You
know, minority groups and,” she giggled, “even non-New Englanders.”

“But the project did go through,” Ralph said.

“Oh yes,” she cried. “Those foolish people were definitely in the
minority themselves. It finally was accomplished in the good old New
England tradition of a town meeting. The few ignorant objectors were
laughed and hooted right out of the meeting, too.” She smiled at the
memory.

“But to get back to Dad,” she continued. “After he had finished
designing the houses for the project, he was swamped with orders. And
eager as he was to fill them, he was very intelligent. He insisted on
very regular checkups with Dr. Daley, our internist at the clinic. But
everything went just fine. He seemed to get better all the time. So now
he’s opened his own office, and he’s busy all the time.”

“That’s marvelous,” Ralph said. “I can’t remember ever seeing your
father look so well.”

Jean smiled tenderly. “I guess that about brings you up to date.”

Ralph put his arm around her. “Good,” he said. “Now, let’s talk about
us. Seems to me I hear wedding bells in my head. How about you?”

Jean giggled. “My, what a tender proposal!” she teased.

Ralph drew back in mock horror. “But I’ve _already_ proposed!” he
protested. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”

Jean laughed. “As if I ever could forget,” she admitted frankly.

“But I think we ought to set a date.”

“Let’s see,” she said, deliberately teasing him. “I’ll have to check
my appointment book, but my plans go something like this. I will be
graduated late this summer. And then, as far as I know, I haven’t
anything special planned.”

“You, ma’m, are an idiot!” Ralph laughed. “Very well, we shall plan a
fall wedding--”

“Right here in Elmhurst,” Jean continued.

“You bet! Where else?” he wanted to know. Then he became serious. “I’m
glad you’re going to be so busy this summer,” he added. “Because that
will make the time pass more quickly for us both.”

Jean grabbed his hand. “You’re going away again,” she said suddenly.

“Only for a little while.”

“Oh, Ralph!” she cried.

Ralph squeezed her hand. “This time, only for a few months. I have to
go to Ottawa, of course, to make my report to the government on my trip
abroad. After all, they sent me. I have to account for their money.”

Jean nodded miserably.

“And then I have to look up the government contractor for my wood pulp.
Jeannie, I must get that arranged so that I can sleep easily at night.”

She nodded. “I understand. I mean, my mind understands. But this silly
old heart doesn’t understand one little bit.”

Ralph drew her to him and kissed her. “That silly old heart you’re
wearing these days is mine, you know. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t
understand. I wouldn’t want it to.”




9. Polio Claims a Victim


Ralph stayed for the rest of the week and life for Jean was one grand
whirl. Then Jeannie drove him to town and put him aboard the Boston
train. As she turned the car around and headed slowly for home, her
heart grew heavy. She tried to blink back the tears as she told herself
that they would be apart for only a few months this time. But by the
time she reached home, she was openly crying.

Doris was standing on the front porch when she drove up. Jean turned
her head away, but Doris, who had already seen the tears, put her arm
around her sister’s shoulder. Jean reached up and squeezed Doris’s
hand. Without saying anything, the two sisters shared a moment of
complete sympathy.

Finally Doris said, “Jean, this is terrible, but the hospital called
and wanted you to come right over. It’s mean to make you go right out
when you feel this way....”

Jean grinned at her sister. “Work is the best cure for what ails me,
you know. What’s up?”

Doris shook her head. “They have a polio victim,” she said flatly.

Jean gasped. “Polio!” she cried. “But this is only May! The polio
season shouldn’t start for another month, at least!”

“That’s what they told me,” Doris said dully.

“Thanks, dear,” Jean replied. “I’ll go right over.”

Jean dashed up to the emergency ward as soon as she reached the
hospital. Ted and Sally were bent over a small, frail boy, whose body
was horribly rigid.

“We’ll be lucky if we can keep him out of the iron lung,” Ted muttered
as he worked over the boy.

Jean ran her cool hand across the boy’s feverish forehead. The tiny
victim began to mumble.

“There, there,” Jean whispered. “Try to relax.”

“Take it easy, son,” Ted said.

The two girls made him as comfortable as they could, while Ted worked
on his muscles. For hours the spasms continued, and then gradually they
began to subside. Finally the boy went to sleep.

“Will he be crippled?” Sally asked.

Ted shrugged. “It’s way too early to tell.”

“Who is he?” Jean asked.

“We don’t even know that. Found him down at the railroad track. Mr.
Berger found him as he was driving by and brought him right over.”

Jean gazed down on the dirty, tear-stained face. “He’s so young,” she
murmured.

“Not more than ten,” Ted agreed. “He might be a little older, of
course. He looks as if he hasn’t had a decent meal in months!” He
sighed. “He was brought in in ragged clothes which we had to cut off
and burn in the incinerator.”

“Can we bathe him now?” Jean asked, looking at the dirty boy.

“Yes, but be careful. He’s still having some pain,” Ted answered.

By morning, the new patient was resting more easily in fresh, clean
garments. His face and body were clean, but his hair was still matted
and dirty. He awoke around seven to find Jean sitting by his bed.

“Good morning,” Jean said cheerfully. “Feel better?”

The small boy let forth a stream of profanity.

“Still hurts, eh?” Jean asked. “Well, the worst is over. You’ll feel
better from now on.”

“Get out!” the boy ordered. “Get, and leave me be!”

Jean shook her head and smiled. “Tell me your name, will you? I’m Miss
Craig. Now, who are you?”

The boy looked up at her, his dark eyes flashing. “None of your
business!” he snarled. “Who was that old nosey what brought me in?”

Jean bent over the child. “You’re a very sick boy,” she said. “Mr.
Berger found you down at the station. He saved your life.”

“Thanks for nuttin’,” he said. “I gotta get outta here. I gotta get to
Boston.”

“When you are well, you can go to Boston. Is that where you live? Your
parents’ home?”

“Naw, I gotta pal in Boston.”

“Where’s your home?” Jean asked.

“None ’a’ your business!”

Ted came in and sat down beside the child. “Good morning,” he said
briskly.

The boy swore at Ted.

“I still don’t know his name or where he’s from,” Jean said. “He won’t
tell me.”

Ted nodded. “Riding the rails?” he asked the boy.

“What’s it to yah?” the boy asked.

Ted shrugged. “Well, we’ll send out an alarm. His parents are probably
frantic.”

“He was on his way to Boston,” Jean offered. “You might concentrate on
towns south of here.”

“You gonna call the cops?” the boy asked with terror in his eyes.

Ted nodded. “Something like that. We can’t let your parents worry about
you.”

The boy turned his face to the wall. “They won’t worry. Skip it. But
jest don’t call the cops.”

Ted patted him gently on the shoulder and went to the door. “I’ll see
you in a few minutes. Take it easy.”

“Drop dead,” the boy said and made a rude noise.

Ingeborg came in to relieve Jean around eight o’clock, and Jean decided
to go home for breakfast. When she arrived, she tossed her jacket over
a chair and wandered listlessly into the kitchen where her mother was
washing the breakfast dishes.

“Any more food for a prodigal child?” Jean asked wearily.

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Craig said. “Why don’t you go out on the porch?
It’s such a fine day, I have Jack out there. He’ll be glad of the
company.”

Jean wandered out to the porch and sat down beside Jack. He lay in the
porch glider enjoying the balmy May breezes.

“Hi, Jack,” she said wearily.

“Pretty bad, was he?” Jack asked.

“Well, not as bad as some, I guess,” Jean answered, nibbling on a piece
of buttered toast. “Ted seems to think he’ll need some therapy to
prevent crippling. But we kept him out of the iron lung.”

“What’s he like?” Jack asked. “A real young kid?”

Jean shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “He wouldn’t give his name or
address or what he was doing in town, or anything. He just swore at us.”

“Jeepers!” Jack exclaimed. “How do you like that!”

“We think he caught a freight train into town from the south. He did
say he was going to Boston.” She sighed. “His parents must be worried
to death.”

Jack looked thoughtful. “Polio catching?” he asked finally.

Jean shook her head. “No one knows. Why?”

“Oh, just wondered. This kid ... you think he was riding a freight? I
mean, he looked sorta ... poor?”

Jean nodded. “He was dressed in very ragged clothes when they found
him.”

She finished her breakfast and went up to bed. She felt defeated
and lonely. She grinned wryly at herself, realizing that she was
discouraged about the boy more intensely because she missed Ralph so
much. Slowly she climbed into bed and pulled the light blanket around
her shoulders. After fretting and worrying for an hour or so, she
finally fell asleep.

Back at the hospital, Ted and Ingeborg were still trying to get
information out of the boy. But after blasting them both with
profanity, he merely turned his head to the wall and refused to say
anything. Finally the phone rang, and Ingeborg reported that Mrs. Craig
was calling.

“Jack has been talking to me,” Mrs. Craig said to Ted over the phone.
“He wants to see your polio patient.”

Ted stared at the phone. “Why on earth?” he asked.

He could hear Mrs. Craig chuckle softly. “Jack believes he can find out
who the boy is,” she said.

Ted was still puzzled. “I still don’t understand,” he said.

“You probably don’t remember how Jack came to Elmhurst, Ted,” Mrs.
Craig laughed.

“But of course I do. You told me the night we brought him to the
hospital.” He paused. “I’m beginning to see, Mrs. Craig.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Jack feels that he may be able to talk to
the lad in his own language.”

“I’ll send someone right over to bring him here!” Ted cried. “That boy!
He really gets me! Now how would a youngster that age realize these
things?”

Mrs. Craig laughed again. “My Jack is a pretty smart youngster,” she
said bluntly and with pride.

“I should say he is!” Ted cried. “Now why didn’t I think of that? You
tell him we’ll be right over for him!”

Jack was brought straight up to the emergency ward and placed a good
distance from the stranger’s cot. He propped himself up and turned to
Ted and the others. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll handle this.”

Ted nodded and motioned to the others to follow him. They stood just
outside the door to listen.

Jack looked over at the pathetic figure on the cot. He hesitated. His
natural outgoing affection battled with his ideas of what he must do.
At last, he willed himself to speak roughly.

“Why don’t you drop dead?” he said.

The boy looked around.

“Think you’re pretty tough, don’t you?” Jack baited. “You ain’t so
much!”

The boy stared at him.

“I hear you rode a freight into town.”

“Yeah,” the boy admitted.

“So did I. Some fun, eh?”

There was a long pause.

“Who are you?” the boy finally asked.

“What’s it to yah, punk?” Jack replied. “I don’t go ’round handin’ out
my monicker to every stray what asks for it.”

“Okay,” the boy said, admiration creeping into his voice. Then he
changed abruptly. “What you doin’ lyin’ down? Get outta here!”

“I’m sick, too,” Jack said. “I gotta stay in bed.”

The patient looked at Jack closely. “Take good care of yourself, pretty
boy,” he taunted.

Jack shrugged. “Yeah, I will, thanks. I’m a guy who oughtta take care
of hisself. I’m important.”

“You ’n’ who else?”

“Jest me. Wanna make somethin’ of it?” he scowled at the boy.

The child’s eyes opened wider. “Okay, so you’re a big shot,” he said
grudgingly. “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?” Jack snapped.

“Timmy. Timothy Lester.”

“I never hearda yah,” Jack said loftily. “Where you from?”

“A bigger place ’n’ this dump,” Timmy said. “New York.”

“Yeah?” Jack let a note of admiration creep into his voice. “Yeah,
really New York? What do your folks do?”

Timmy made a face. His lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly as he
said, “I ain’t got folks. We was in a fire. I was the only one didn’t
get killed.”

“Aw, gee,” Jack said, his quick sympathy overcoming his acting.

“It’s okay. I gotta pal in Boston. He said any time I wanted tah leave
home I should look him up. He has a racket up there. Pretty good
dough, I guess,” Timmy said.

“You in trouble with the cops?”

Timmy made a face at the mention of the law. “Naw,” he said, finally.
“But I jest hate ’em. I never even had a chance to square myself wid
’em. The other guys said I was too little to heist stuff yet.”

“You ain’t got no relatives? Nobody?”

“That’s right,” Timmy said proudly. “Now, shut up. I’m sick a talkin’.”

Jack pulled the bellcord by his bed, and Mrs. Craig and Ted and
Ingeborg came back. “Okay,” Jack said. “I wanna go home, now. But
I’ll be back,” he said menacingly. “You give the gang at the hospital
trouble, and you’ll hear from me ... plenty!”

“Aw, dry up,” Timmy retorted.

Out in the hall, Ted and Mrs. Craig were both triumphant. Ted shook
Jack’s hand. “That was a masterful bit of acting, Jack, old boy,” he
said.

Jack turned his head away. “I’d like to go home. I don’t feel very
good.”

Mrs. Craig put her hand on his forehead to see if his temperature had
risen. He brushed it away.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” he said huskily. “That poor little guy!
Jeepers!” his voice rose, “what kind of a chance does he have, anyway?”

Mrs. Craig nodded. “I know, dear.”

Jack patted his mother’s hand. “You heard the terrible way I talked to
him. I hated to do it. But he thought I was just passing the time of
day. Rough talk, lying and stealing ... they’ve been his school books.
I know. I can remember myself at his age.”

Mrs. Craig ran her fingers over Jack’s head. “Maybe it’s just as well
that he landed here. Maybe someone can do something for him, now.”

Jack caught Ted’s coat sleeve. “One other thing, Dr. Loring,” he
said. “Don’t talk to Timmy about cops or missing persons bureaus. The
one thing a kid in his fix is scared to death of is being sent to
some home. That’s what cops mean to him right now. He probably has
orphanages and reform schools all mixed up in his twisted mind.”




10. Kit at the Capital


In Washington, D. C., summer was well under way. The gentle breezes
from the South warmed the city. A few weeks later, the capital would be
sweltering in southern summer heat.

Frank Howard gazed out of the window of his office. From his desk he
could just see a corner of the park where Washington’s monument and the
Lincoln Memorial faced each other across the glassy pond. He smiled
absently at the small, full, Japanese cherry trees lining the park.

Across the room sat Leslie Merrivale, Frank’s partner. He, too, studied
the cherry trees, but his face was grim. “I never can see those things
in bloom without shuddering,” he said.

Frank turned away from the window and laughed.

“I know what you mean, Les,” he answered. “I used to feel the same
way. The trees were a gift from the Japanese, and the beetles were an
unwitting gift from them. It’s strange how you keep connecting the two
in your mind.” He shuddered slightly as he thought of the fierce battle
entomologists all over the country had waged against the destructive
insects from Japan.

Leslie grinned. “I tell you, I don’t know why people go into this work.
Spring is supposed to be a happy time of year. Everything comes to
life. Old people feel better. Young people fall in love. Babies stop
having colds. And entomologists know that it’s time to go to work. How
many larvae do you reckon are concealed in that elm down there?”

Frank shrugged and lit his pipe. “It’s time you went on a field trip,
Les,” he said. “You’re getting finicky. What’s the matter? Don’t you
like bugs?”

Leslie shook his head in mock despair. “You know what I mean. Sure, I
love to study the little crawling things. But every year, after all the
work we do, just to see those blossoming trees and plants and to know
they’re infested with insects of every type imaginable--it’s a little
discouraging.”

Frank blew out the match and drew on his pipe. “It should encourage you
to see the blossoms. As long as they come out, we know we’re all right.
There still is a good balance. Cheer up, man. People are supposed to be
happy in the spring.”

Leslie studied his partner’s face. “You’re happy enough for both of us
today,” he commented dryly. “But then we’re all not lucky enough to be
in love.”

Frank nodded. “Yes,” he said slowly. “That’s true. Spring is a great
time for sweethearts.”

“And,” Leslie continued, “those of us who are in love aren’t all lucky
enough to have their young ladies come halfway across a continent to
see us.”

Frank chuckled. “You flatter me, Les,” he said. “Kit Craig is coming to
Washington on business.”

Leslie threw down his pencil. “Now tell me, Frank, what sort of
business does a college girl have? I thought their lives were full of
beaux and football games and parties and as few studies as possible.”

“Oh, no. This is serious. Kit is president of her college’s historical
society. There’s a big convention in town this week, and Kit will be
here to represent Hope College.” Frank smiled fondly as he thought of
Kit and of how seriously she would take her mission.

His partner turned back to his work. “Well, you’re pretty lucky, old
man,” he said.

Frank nodded silently as he gazed out of the window. Then he glanced at
his watch and admonished himself for wasting time. Picking up a report
which lay on his desk, he began to study it. He shook his head from
side to side as he read it and then he jotted down notations in the
margin.

Elm blight again! The first signs were being seen on a midwestern
campus. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he scanned the report
further. Saving elms would be a major project for the country this
summer.

Frank phoned the laboratory and asked them to send for samples. It was
almost a futile gesture, he realized. The year before, the labs were
full of samples of rotting elm branches, all destroyed by the same
insect.

“Les,” he said to his partner, “have the same order about the elm
blight inserted in all bulletins. If we can get the towns and farmers
to spray their trees early, we may save them. It’s our only chance.
You can’t kill the beast once he’s imbedded in the tree, but you can
prevent him from attacking in the first place.”

Leslie made a note on his desk memo pad. “Nature gets you at every
turn,” he muttered. “First you discover D.D.T., and then she discovers
a little creature which won’t succumb to the treatment.”

“It’s the balance,” Frank said philosophically. “Maybe there’s a reason
we don’t understand.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Leslie said skeptically.

They worked in silence for the next hour. Then Frank glanced at his
watch again and stood up. “I guess I’ll call it a day,” he said. “Kit’s
train gets in at six, and I want to clean up first.”

“She must be some girl,” Leslie marveled, “to drag you out of this
office before dinnertime.”

Freshly shaved and bathed, Frank drove his convertible into the
Washington terminal at ten minutes to six. He neatly avoided the row
of taxicabs standing before the entrance and found a parking place.
Hurrying, he pushed his way through the milling crowds on the concourse
and went into the waiting room. He looked at the schedules on a
blackboard near the exits to the trains. Kit’s train was on time.
Nervously he adjusted his tie.

The train was announced, and Frank moved forward with the crowd to
the exit. He could see the open platform and an excited group of
young people running towards the doors. In spite of himself he felt a
thrill of pride when he saw their happy, enthusiastic faces. Here were
boys and girls from all over the country gathering in their nation’s
capital. Some for the first time. He was proud of his country which had
sponsored the happy youngsters. And he was proud of his beautiful city
which had so much to offer them.

Then he spotted Kit. She was surrounded by a group of boys and girls,
laughing and chattering and waving to passers-by. She looked radiant
with her short dark curls bouncing in the breeze and her large eyes
flashing. Frank felt proud and yet as shy as a schoolboy as he ran
forward to the gate to meet her.

Kit grabbed his hands, and he pulled her into his arms and hugged her.
“Hi, Kit,” he said.

“Oh, Frank, it’s _so_ good to see you,” she cried. And breathlessly she
introduced him to the young people around her.

He smiled into their young, eager faces, and finally drew Kit over to
one side. “Let me look at you,” he said. “My, but it’s been a long
time!”

“Too long,” Kit said. “I certainly have missed you.”

“Where are you staying? How much of your time do I get to monopolize?
How long will you be here?”

Kit laughed to silence his questions. “One at a time,” she gasped.
“We’re all staying at the Willard. Two professors and their wives are
acting as our chaperons. I don’t know my schedule yet, but there will
be just two hours in the morning and two in the afternoon for sessions.
Then I should be free for the rest of the time.”

Frank reached for her bag and laughed. “Then I can get some work done
while you’re in town.”

Kit caught his arm. “Why don’t you come back to Elmhurst with me?” she
asked.

Frank nodded thoughtfully. “It might be arranged. Now let’s get you to
the hotel and checked in. Then dinner, and then whatever you want to do
in our nation’s capital.”

Kit nodded. “Of course we have to observe regular hours, Frank,” she
said. “I’ll have to check out just as at school if I go anywhere. But
first I want to call Mother.”

“Of course you do,” Frank agreed.

“To arrange about your coming, of course,” Kit teased.

Frank ushered her into his car. “Of course,” he said solemnly.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and started off. He guided the
convertible through the city traffic with ease and pulled up before
the Willard Hotel. “Tell you what,” he said. “You go on in and unpack
and call home and make whatever arrangements you have to with your
chaperons. Then I’ll pick you up for supper in an hour.”

Kit jumped out of the car. “All right, Frank,” she agreed. “But don’t
make it more than an hour. I’m starving already.”

He waved to her as he pulled away from the curb. The doorman, with
Kit’s bag in hand, guided her into the lobby. A group of students was
gathered around the front desk. Kit joined them and nodded to the
doorman to put down her luggage.

“Who’s the VIP, Kit?” one of the girls asked.

Kit glanced around at the group. They were all looking at her.

“Oh, a friend of mine,” she tossed off.

“Well, if you like them old ...” one catty voice commented.

A storm of protest broke forth from the group and Kit relaxed as she
heard admiring comments about Frank from all sides.

Kit shared her room with Helen Smith from a small college in Iowa, and
Bernice Traxler from Northwestern University. Helen was a small, pale
girl who had gone to college right from her father’s farm. Bernice was
tall and dark and striking looking. Bernice was a native of Evanston
and a very sophisticated young lady. Kit wondered fleetingly how
Bernice and Helen would hit it off as roommates.

“Do you girls mind if I tie up the phone for a while?” Kit asked. “I
want to call my mother.”

“Of course not,” Helen said. “I don’t know anyone to call, anyway.” She
laughed, and Kit felt drawn to this honest girl from an Iowa farm.

“Help yourself, Kit,” Bernice said. “I have a million things to do
before I let people know I’m in town.”

Kit asked for the long distance operator and completed her call
immediately.

“Hi, Mother!” she cried into the phone. “The trip was swell! No, I’m
not a bit tired. I got your letter about the wedding and I cried even
if I wasn’t there. Frank met me at the station, and I’m going to have
dinner with him tonight. I wonder if it would be okay if he came
back to Elmhurst with me? I mean, we haven’t decided definitely, or
anything. I just mentioned it.” She waited for her mother’s answer.

“That’s swell,” she cried. “Give my love to everyone. I’ll see you all
Thursday.”

She set the receiver back on the hook and turned to her roommates.

“Is the man who met you at the station your beau?” Bernice asked.

Kit hesitated. “Well, sort of,” she admitted. “We’re old friends, at
least.”

Bernice hummed. “I’d like an old friend like that,” she murmured.
“Wouldn’t you, Helen?”

“I thought he was awfully nice looking,” Helen agreed.

Bernice surveyed her wardrobe which was lying across her bed. “I guess
I can make myself presentable for the evening,” she decided. Then she
turned to Helen. “Can you?” she asked.

Helen stared at her. “But I’m not going anywhere,” she protested.
“Meetings don’t start till morning, and I don’t know a soul in
Washington. I’ll just slip down for some dinner and then curl up with a
book....”

Bernice glared at her in mock severity. “Over my dead body,” she said.
“No one comes to Washington and stays home reading. No one who knows
me, anyhow. I’m going to do some phoning, and then you and I are going
on a night tour of Washington.”

Helen sat down on the edge of her bed. “But I haven’t a thing to wear!
I think you’re wonderful to ask me, but really....”

But Bernice was already speaking to a friend over the phone. “We’re two
dateless waifs,” she said. “Two girls from the hinterland looking for
some fun.” She winked at Helen. “Yes, Arnold, that will be perfect.
We’ll be ready in an hour.”

She set down the phone. “You and I have dates tonight. With a
Congressman’s son and friend.”

Helen stared at her. “You mean, just like that?”

Bernice smiled at her. “If you don’t really want to go ... if you’re
really too tired....” she started, regretting her impulsiveness.

Kit sat down beside Helen. There were tears in the girl’s eyes.

“That’s one of the nicest things anyone ever did for me,” she cried.
“But I don’t have anything to wear, and I don’t know how to act with
Congressmen’s sons!”

Bernice smiled. “You know how it’s like in a dorm. If you don’t have a
dress, you borrow it. Right, Kit?”

Kit nodded.

“And as for Congressmen’s sons, just remember that most of them were
raised on some farm in the corn-belt. Right, Kit?”

Kit giggled. “Let’s fix Helen up with a dress,” she suggested. “I have
something she can wear, I think.” And she opened the closet door where
her freshly unpacked clothes hung. “Let’s see,” she said, running her
hands over the hangers. “Try this one.”

Helen gasped at the sight of the white tulle evening frock which Kit
laid across her bed. “I ... I couldn’t!” she said.

Kit smiled. “Of course you can. You probably wouldn’t hesitate if you
were my roommate at school.”

Helen touched the dress gingerly. Slowly she rose and slipped off her
street dress. “I’ll take a shower and then try it,” she consented.

In an hour all three girls were ready for their first night in
Washington. Kit was lovely in a simple powder blue street-length
dress with a matching jaunty little hat. She wore white gloves and
blue slippers and carried a tiny blue bag. Bernice wore a sheath-like
strapless black evening dress. Her hair was pulled on top of her head
and caught with a rhinestone clip. She pulled on long black gloves and
turned to survey her new roommate.

Bernice and Kit were amazed at the transformation. Helen looked like
a fragile doll in the white tulle. Her blond hair was caught up high
behind each ear and fell in curls at the back of her head. Her blue
eyes sparkled as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“Do I look all right?” she asked timidly.

Bernice looked at her and shook her head. “This will teach me to invite
strange women on my dates. What I want to know is who’s going to look
at me with you around?”

“You look beautiful,” Kit agreed.

Helen smiled happily. “I feel as if I do,” she said. “That always means
I’m going to have a good time.”

Frank was waiting for Kit when she came downstairs to the lobby. She
introduced him to Professor and Mrs. Wilson, the chaperons, and then
they headed out into the spring night.

Kit sighed happily at the light of the city around them. “I like this,”
she said simply. “I have a feeling that this trip is going to be
wonderful. Every minute of it.”

“You sound as if you had some doubts before,” Frank said.

Kit told him about her two roommates and the generous gesture Bernice
had made. “It just goes to prove,” she said, “that you can’t judge
people beforehand. I wish I could get over putting everyone into
categories. Just because the girl comes from Evanston and has gorgeous
clothes, I expected her to be a snob.”

“Lots of nice people have money,” Frank said as if voicing a platitude.
“Now, my little proletarian, where shall we go for dinner?”

They traveled out Connecticut Avenue in Frank’s car. “I think for your
first night, the Shoreham,” Frank said gravely. “Just to show you that
wealth doesn’t exclude niceness.”

“Don’t be such an idiot,” Kit cried. “It sounds marvelous!”

Together they walked through the handsome lobby of the uptown hotel
and out to the terrace where they were shown to a table. Frank ordered
dinner while Kit looked about her. She clasped her hands together in
sheer pleasure.

While they ate, there was a floor show to entertain them. Then the
music for dancing began. Kit grabbed Frank’s hand.

“I know I should wait to be asked,” she said, “but let’s dance.”

Frank put his hand over hers. “Let’s wait just a few minutes, Kit,” he
pleaded. “I want to talk to you.”

Kit felt a tingle run up her spine. She shivered.

“Maybe I’m rushing things,” Frank admitted. “But can we talk now about
you and me?”

“Of course, Frank,” Kit said slowly.

“I know you’ll think I’m forcing an issue,” Frank continued, “but I
think you know I’ve waited a long time, feeling the way I do.”

“Wait, Frank,” Kit said, holding up her hand. “Let’s be very sure we
want to talk about this.”

“I know what you mean,” Frank answered. “In a way, it’s easier to go on
just being friends ... with no complications. But, you see, the only
trouble is that I’m in love with you, Kit. You know that, and I can’t
keep still about it any longer.”

It was the first time Frank had mentioned the word love. Kit was amazed
at how coolly he said it, and how naturally she accepted it.

She hesitated. “You make me feel very proud, Frank,” she said finally.

Frank looked away. “Oh,” he said.

Kit laid her hand on his arm. “Wait, I don’t think you understand,” she
said. “I don’t exactly see how you could, when I don’t, myself. I’m
nineteen, and that isn’t exactly young, but it isn’t very old, either.
I had everything all figured out for my future, as you know. To be
perfectly honest, I didn’t exactly plan on being in love ... just yet.”

Frank smiled faintly. “I’m doing exactly what I promised myself I
wouldn’t do. Of course you’re too young....”

“Your words had nothing to do with it,” Kit admitted a little sadly.
“You see, I’ve been the closest to being unhappy this spring at school
that I’ve ever been. I feel like an ungrateful wretch even to mention
it. But school has seemed so ... so pointless. I’ve been restless and
moody and not interested in what was going on. All the boys seemed so
... childish. All the girls were so ... I don’t know. Kind of boring,
with their silly endless prattling about boys and dates and parties.
That’s a terrible way to feel about college but I realized I felt that
way because of you. You’re in another world. And I’m beginning to think
I won’t be happy till I’m in that world _with_ you.”

Frank squeezed her hand. “Oh, Kit,” he said, “I’m not asking you to
love me right off. I just want to know I have a chance.”

Kit looked down at the table. “I don’t know how Jean managed it,” she
said. “Waiting so long, that is.” She looked up at Frank. “If a girl my
age can really be in love, then I really love you, Frank.”

Frank touched her hair with his fingers. “That’s good enough for me,
Kit,” he said, grinning. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

They glided across the dance floor, neither one of them seeming to
touch the ground. And the hours slipped by too fast. Eventually Frank
sighed and led Kit back to the table. “Curfew rings in a few minutes,”
he said. “But at least I know that someday there won’t be a curfew for
us.”




11. Kit and Frank


Kit’s week in Washington flew by. Frank Howard was with her every free
moment, and between times, she attended the lively discussions which
were held in the hotel ballroom. The young students heard some of the
great minds of the country speak on all phases of history, foreign and
American, from the fall of the Roman Empire to the present day.

Kit could hardly believe her ears when Bernice Traxler rose to read a
paper on modern Mexico. The girl, who had seemed so frivolous, rose
before the assembly to deliver one of the most inspiring and factual
reports of the day. Kit wondered how such a popular girl could have
found the time to investigate Mexican history so thoroughly. She
listened, spellbound, while Bernice told the story of politics in
Mexico from the Sixteenth Century and the invasion of Cortez to the
present-day Aleman government.

Helen Smith, too, contributed a paper to the meeting. She spoke,
naturally enough, about the Midwestern states in this country. And as
she talked, Kit began to realize the important role that the farmer
plays. Helen, who had had personal experience in the Four-H Club and
whose father had been an active member of the Grange, convinced them
all that the problems of the American farmer were everyone’s problems.

For a week, both professors and students lectured, compared notes and
discussed historical topics. Kit had no paper to read, but she was
chairman of a discussion group which handled the problems of modern
France. It was an interesting session and set the stage for another one
about modern Germany and the four-power division of that country.

Fortunately, the conference was the last on the schedule. It went on
for two days, while students and teachers alike tried to reach some
conclusion as to the policies of Russia, France, England and the United
States. Discussions became heated, and Kit told Frank afterward that
she felt as if she had attended a United Nations conference.

“The United Nations,” Frank said, “is _really_ our last hope, I think.”
He was escorting Kit into a famous seafood restaurant on the river,
and the odor of fresh fish assailed their nostrils as they climbed the
steps up to the second floor.

Kit sat down and waited for Frank to order for them. She gazed
wistfully down at the Potomac. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Isn’t
that the way people felt about the League of Nations after the last
war?”

Frank shook his head. “Last time we weren’t even in on the deal. This
time we’re one of the leaders.”

Kit smiled a little. “That sounds a little chauvinistic,” she said.
“Flag waving.”

Frank grinned. “I didn’t mean it that way. I suppose you feel more
confident when your own country agrees with you.”

Kit shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said wearily. “I was so
encouraged to think so many students and professors wanted to get
together to talk. But after these two days of endless arguments about
the four-power pact and Germany, I feel that we left everything in a
hopeless tangle. And if we Americans couldn’t agree about it, how do
you suppose the members of the United Nations _ever_ will agree?”

Frank covered his hand with hers. “Because, Kit,” he said seriously,
“the member nations agree on the very most important thing of all.
They are agreeing to talk instead of to throw bombs. Of course they
disagree. And they’ll continue to disagree. But as long as they heave
words around instead of exploding atoms, they are exercising their
rights as human beings. And human beings who act as human beings
should, don’t kill each other.”

Kit nodded. “I agree with that, all right,” she said. “For example,
if Jean were here, she could back me up in this. There are huge wars
which human beings must fight all the time. I’m a soldier in the front
lines. Humans have _natural_ enemies, and I’m constantly plotting and
arranging the slaughter of these enemies. Jean and the doctors and the
other nurses at the clinic do the same thing.”

“Man is _not_ man’s natural enemy. He must learn this. I don’t care if
he’s a German or a Russian or an Australian bushman, it’s his business
to get along with his fellow man.”

“That’s fine, but he doesn’t,” Kit said. “Look at the history of this
country. Young as we are, we’ve had a war almost every generation.”

“The history of this country is an excellent example of our progress,”
Frank said. “Many people think that the tensions which exist between
the North and the South today are as strong as those in Lincoln’s day.
But no one except downright crackpots would ever suggest going through
another Civil War. We talk about our grievances. We don’t shoot about
them.”

“That’s right,” Kit agreed.

Frank grinned sheepishly. “I know I’m an idealist,” he said. “But I’ve
a hunch that before too long man is going to wake up! Someday he’s
going to realize that to ally himself with greed, bad temper and bad
will towards other men is to sign a pact with our natural enemies. He
might just as well suggest that we turn this world over to destructive
insects, infectious diseases and man-eating beasts.”

Kit grinned back at him. “This pompano is delicious, but it’s going to
taste like sawdust if we don’t stop this.”

“Okay, Kit,” Frank said.

“Now, then,” Kit continued, “are you coming home with me?”

Frank thought for a moment. “I can come now with you and stay a week or
so. Or I can come later in the summer. Suppose I leave it up to you?”

Kit smiled. “Come both times,” she urged.

“You’re a forward minx,” Frank said, laughing. “You know I’d like to,
but I can’t. Summertime is our busiest time, and I just can’t get away
both times.”

Kit considered his answer for a minute. “Then maybe you’d better come
later,” she said. “You might have more time, and I’d be settled at home
... you know, unpacked and everything. Then we would have time to do
what we want to.”

Frank nodded. “That might be better.”

They ate their dinner in almost complete silence. It was Kit’s last
night in Washington, and neither of them was happy about her leaving.

“What time does your train leave, Kit?” Frank asked after a while.

She shook her head dismally. “Around six in the morning.”

“Then I suppose you won’t want to stay up very late,” he sighed.
“I thought we might take a drive out Chevy Chase way. The Maryland
countryside is lovely at this time of year.”

“That would be fun,” Kit agreed. “And I don’t mind staying up.”

After dinner, they started their slow drive out to Chevy Chase. Kit
gazed longingly at the pretty houses nestled in the rolling hills. She
pointed to one colonial house which was nearly obscured from the road
by a small woods. “That’s just about perfect, I think,” she sighed.

Frank glanced over at the house. “So that’s what you want for a home.”

Kit nodded. “I think I would like to live outside of Washington.”

“That’s a break for me,” Frank teased. “That means, of course, I can
keep my job. In case we decide to be married someday.”

Kit laughed. “Yes, I guess it does. But do you know why I want to live
here?”

Frank shook his head. “Tell me, Mr. Bones. Why have you selected
Washington, of all places in the country, as the place to settle down?”

Kit grimaced at him. “Because,” she said earnestly, “you can have a
farm right here....”

Frank threw one hand up in mock horror. “So you want to be a farmer!”

Kit pursed her lips. “What’s the matter with being a farmer? But that
isn’t what I meant, and you know it. I mean, you can live in the
country and be quiet and surrounded by the beauties of nature, and
still you’re not an hour away from the heart of the nation. Imagine
living right in the midst of the most exciting events in the world!”

Frank smiled wryly. “Now who’s being chauvinistic?” he asked.

“You’re being awful!” Kit cried. “I’ll bet you never even bother to go
to a Senate hearing or the House ... or anything!”

Frank’s smile faded. “I’ll bet I wish I didn’t have to ... as much as I
do. You seem to forget I have Senate committees to report to, to try to
get money out of, to high pressure into taking some action so that we
all don’t have insect plagues.”

Kit grinned and shook her head. “That was a dumb remark. I’m sorry. But
anyhow I think it would be exciting.”

Frank glanced at her. She looked as young as a high school girl.
“You’re so young and precious and wonderful, Kit,” he said tenderly,
“I don’t know why you bother with an old fogey like me. I’ve almost
forgotten how thrilled I was the first time I entered the Senate
gallery.”

She laughed. “I guess you _are_ an old fogey. But it’s too late to do
anything about it now.”

When they returned from their drive, Frank took her to a small
restaurant for dancing and a light snack. As they moved out on the
dance floor, Kit sighed.

“Why are you always going away from people?” she asked.

Frank shrugged. “I’m not going any place,” he said, holding out his
arms to her. “_You_ are.”

Kit made a face at him as they started to dance. “That’s what I mean,
silly. First I had to leave college. You know, you think you’re all set
to leave and that you never want to see another classroom or textbook
again. But then you do leave, and you just can’t bear it. I mean,
leaving Uncle Bart and Aunt Della and Jeannette Flambeau, my roommate,
and the whole gang. This time it was a little easier because I knew I
was going to come here and see you. But now I have to leave you and
the new friends I’ve made here. Then I’ll get home and next fall I’ll
have to leave Father and Mother and the family. You’re always leaving
someone behind.”

“Or being left behind,” Frank said earnestly. “I don’t want to talk
about it any more. It’s not much fun being left. And if I started to
tell you how I feel about it, I could easily frighten you.”

Kit hesitated. “All right, Frank,” she said. “I guess I’m terrible,
worrying about myself when other people have problems, too.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yep, you’re terrible, all right,” he said. “You
make me feel like a man who’s bet his whole life savings on a horse
race.”

Kit stared at him. “What?” she asked.

He smiled wistfully. “I’m a grown-up man, Kit,” he said softly. “I’ve
been in love ... or thought I was in love ... before. But never like
this. You’re such a child, still. You should have lots of men in your
life. All I can do is make my bet--that’s my whole heart--and stand by
and wait till the race is over.”

Kit smiled slowly. “I hope I’ve been honest with you, Frank,” she
said. “I couldn’t bear to think I’ve done anything to hurt you. But of
course,” she added, “Ralph must have felt the same way about Jean. And
that worked out.”

Frank thought of Jean, the calm, efficient, loyal sister who probably
would be marrying Ralph MacRae soon. Then he looked down at Kit, the
intense, fiery little girl who was out to reform the world. He was
baffled by the comparison, but he realized that the same spark of
loyalty which characterized her older sister was burning in Kit’s
heart.




12. An All Night Vigil


Kit’s homecoming was almost obscured by a great tragedy which had
struck the village of Elmhurst. Although May was not yet over, five
cases of polio had been discovered in town, and people were becoming
panicky.

The four new cases had been sent to the county isolation ward in a
nearby town, but young Timmy Lester stayed at the hospital. His case
was much lighter than anyone suspected at first, and he didn’t need
therapy which the staff couldn’t supply.

When Kit arrived in Elmhurst, she discovered that all public places had
been closed down. No movies were being shown. People were urged to stay
away from restaurants and swimming pools. They were even discouraged
from having large private parties or picnics.

“It’s really too bad,” Doris confessed to Kit. “And a fine summer
vacation you’re going to have in Elmhurst,” she added. “It’s a terrible
break for you.”

Kit smiled at her younger sister. “Never mind about me, Doris,” she
said. “What about the rest of you? You’ve been in school, too. It’s a
shame to ruin your vacation.”

Doris grinned and said, “I suppose you’ll think this is an awful funny
thing to say, but I’m not altogether sorry we can’t gather in big
groups.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Kit cried.

“Well,” Doris said, “I don’t know if Mother told you, but I’m supposed
to try out for a scholarship to Timothy College. It’s a small music
school in North Carolina. Well, anyhow, I was petrified about playing
in front of a large group. But now because of the polio scare, there
will be just two judges who’ll come right here to hear me play. And on
our own piano, too. That makes a difference, you know.”

Kit looked at Doris. “Mother did tell me,” she said. “I think it’s
absolutely wonderful. But she said you weren’t so keen about going
away.”

Doris looked at her sister shyly. “I wouldn’t tell this to Mother,” she
said, “but I want to win that scholarship more than anything else in
the world. At first I was frightened at the thought of going away from
home. But the idea of being among people who love music, and having
music all around me all the time is the most beautiful idea in the
whole world!”

Kit hugged her sister. “You’ll win,” she cried confidently. “You’ve got
to. No one in town even begins to play as well as you!”

Doris smiled with embarrassment. “You’re nice to say that, Kit,” she
said. “Jean said it, too. Of course you’re all prejudiced, but it’s
nice to hear, anyway.”

The telephone rang, and Doris ran to answer it. Kit sat down on the
window seat and looked out over the wooded patch which stood between
the house and the river. Everything was soft and green. The spring
rains had made the leaves and grass shine with healthy color. There
was not even any dust from the dirt road which cut in front of the
Craig farm. She shook her head sadly, as she thought about the families
of Elmhurst, huddled together in fear of the dread disease, and she
thought how wise they all were to cooperate so well in the attempt to
fight it.

Doris came back into the living room and sighed as she sat down. “That
was Jean. She’s supposed to be off today, but she has to work. There is
another case somewhere out in the country, and they’re short-handed at
the hospital.”

Suddenly Kit jumped up and went to the phone. She asked for Jean.

“Look, Jean,” she cried, “isn’t there anything over there that a layman
can do? At the switchboard or scrubbing floors or anything?”

Jean hesitated. “I don’t know, Kit,” she answered. “I can ask Dr.
Barsch.”

“You haven’t been home in over a week,” Kit reminded her. “I’ll bet no
one has. At least I could sit with a patient and holler for help if
they needed a nurse so that someone could go to bed.”

“That’s an idea,” Jean said. “Why don’t you come over?”

When Kit reached the clinic, Jean and Dr. Barsch were waiting for her
on the second floor.

“You wouldn’t think five cases of polio would make the difference,” Kit
said to Jean. “I mean, keep you all so busy.”

Dr. Barsch frowned. “If polio were all we were concerned with, it
wouldn’t be quite so bad. It seems we’re having another epidemic, too.”

“Virus pneumonia,” Jean added. “Three new ones today.”

Kit stared at her. “But I thought you got pneumonia in the winter ...
or spring, at the latest.”

Dr. Barsch shook his head. “Not this brand. It can come any time.”

Kit looked at the doctor. “Well, put me to work. Anything I’m capable
of doing, just let me know.”

The doctor smiled and patted her hand. “It takes misfortune to discover
how fine people can be,” he said absently.

Kit glanced down the hall. “Didn’t I just see Ethel go into that room?
She was in uniform!”

Jean sighed. “Ethel has been back all week. She and Ted just returned
from their honeymoon when ... _this_ happened. She hasn’t laid a rug or
planted a flower at their new house. In fact, she hasn’t even been out
there, herself, in a week.” She shook her head grimly. Then she grinned
at Kit. “Well, I’d better get back to work. Give Kit something to do,
Dr. Barsch. She has a strong back and a weak mind.”

Dr. Barsch studied the face of his weary, red-eyed nurse. “Why don’t
you go to bed for a few hours? You’re just doing a routine check with
me. I can get Miss Peckham to take your place. I sent her to bed for a
few hours this afternoon, so she should be in better shape than you.”

Jean nodded, gratefully. “I’m too tired to argue with you,” she said.
“I know you’ll call me if you need me.”

“And Miss Craig can go right to work down at the switchboard if she
wants to. We usually have the office help go home at five, but because
we couldn’t spare a nurse at night, they’ve been working night and day,
too. You know how to work one?”

Kit nodded. “If it isn’t too complicated,” she said. “Someone down
there can show me.”

Jean started off, but Kit caught her arm. “I have something for you
which should pep you up,” Kit said, reaching in her pocket. “This came
just as I was leaving the house.” She handed Jean a letter.

Jean smiled gratefully and took it. “Thanks, Kit,” she whispered. She
stopped to open the envelope and then leaned against the corridor wall
to read Ralph’s note:

  My dearest Jeannie:

  I feel like a small boy who has finally come to his senses. After
  I made my report here in Ottawa about my European trip, I hunted
  up the forestry offices and signed a government contract to supply
  them with wood pulp. I was amused at their reaction. For they
  treated me as if finally I had come to the realization of one of
  their greatest problems ... they were almost paternal. So I guess
  once again I am a Canadian in good standing because I’m prepared to
  help them in every way I can.

  I have to make a flying trip back to the ranch to round up help for
  the project. You know, I’ve never hired forestry help before, and
  it may take a little time to find the right men for the job. Then,
  believe me! I’m coming straight back to Elmhurst!

  Jeannie, my darling, I worry so about you! The epidemic in Elmhurst
  makes me almost panicky when I think of you in the midst of it.
  Please try to get all the rest you can. Keep your chin up. The
  summer may be bad for you now, but I’ll try to make it wonderful
  for you when I get back. Give my love to the family. I love you!

                                        All my love,
                                            Ralph

Jean slipped the letter into the pocket of her apron and smiled. She
felt stronger, less tired than before. Then impatience spread through
her. Would the summer never end, she thought.

She walked briskly down the hall. Sally Hancock met her near Timmy
Lester’s small room. She smiled at Jean as if it were an effort to move
the muscles in her face.

“Why in the world doesn’t Dr. Barsch send you to bed, too?” Jean asked.

“He did. A couple of hours ago. I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d pass
out if my head hit a pillow, but I was too worried,” Sally said. She
nodded towards Timmy’s room. “Listen,” she said. “Someone else couldn’t
sleep, either.”

Jean heard low voices coming from Timmy’s room. “Is Ted in there with
Timmy?” she asked.

Sally shook her head. “Ted’s got too much sense. He’s dead to the world
... down in Dr. Barsch’s office on the sofa. No, that’s bright boy.”

“Dr. Benson?” Jean asked.

Sally nodded. “No one else can get near the boy. Or haven’t you heard?”

“I’ve been tied up in the contagious ward all week,” Jean admitted.

“Well, any time Timmy wants something, Dr. Benson does it for him. It’s
queer. At least _I_ don’t get it. And every free minute Benson has, he
spends with the boy. Well, anyhow, it makes them both more agreeable.
That little waif! He’s the worst juvenile delinquent _I’ve_ ever seen!”
Sally exclaimed.

Jean smiled. “I think I understand,” she said softly. “And I’m sure
Timmy isn’t a delinquent.”

Sally shrugged and went off down the hall. Jean tiptoed over to Timmy’s
door. She hesitated and then knocked.

Dr. Benson opened the door and smiled at her. Lines of fatigue had
drawn his mouth down at the corners, and his forehead was wrinkled into
a frown. But his eyes twinkled.

“Hello, there, beautiful,” he said cheerfully. “Come on in.”

Jean smiled at him gratefully. She remembered how many times she had
resented his flip manner. But this was one night when she welcomed it.
“I was just passing by,” she said. “I wondered if there was anything
you two would like.”

“Nothing except a two-inch steak and a quart of milk and maybe a good
western movie,” Dr. Benson said.

Jean laughed. “I can get you some milk,” she said. “If you would settle
for--”

“Nothing doing!” Dr. Benson cried. “The whole works, or nothing at all!”

Timmy propped himself up on his elbow. “Yeah, ’n’ I’m gettin’ outta
here, too,” he said, almost belligerently. “Ain’t I, Doc?”

“That’s just wonderful, Timmy!” Jean cried.

“It’s up to Dr. Loring, old man,” Dr. Benson said. “Not me.”

“Well, he said so,” Timmy said, petulantly. “Maybe even this week.”

Jean smiled at him. “Well, if there’s nothing else you fellows want,
I’ll leave you alone.”

Dr. Benson jumped up. “Just a minute, Miss Craig,” he said. “I’ll walk
down the hall with you.”

Timmy watched sadly as they left the room. Once outside the room, Jean
turned to the young intern.

“Something’s on your mind,” she said.

“Yeah,” Dr. Benson admitted. “I’m really worried about that kid. Where
does he go from here? To some nice refined orphanage?” He scowled. “I
hate to think of that boy being shoved into an institution. It could
ruin a kid like him.”

Jean shrugged her shoulders. “I just don’t know,” she admitted. “But I
think your viewpoint about orphanages is a very biased one. You know,
there are some very wonderful ones. For instance, I visit one right
outside of town on my visiting nurse days. It’s called Mercyville.
The children there seem well adjusted and happy. A great many things,
including orphanages, have changed since your day!”

Dr. Benson bit his lip. “Maybe,” he said. “But I’m not sold on the
idea. I’d take him, myself. But how can a bachelor raise a kid? And on
the salary I get here? He’s a _good_ boy, Jean! But he’s never had a
break in his life. Gee, by comparison, I was raised royally. And now to
get shoved into an orphanage would be too much!”

Jean looked closely at the young doctor. For the first time since she
had known him, he was seriously concerned about the future of someone
beside himself.

Just then the telephone rang, and Jean raced down the corridor to
answer it.

“Miss Craig calling Miss Craig,” Kit’s voice said at the other end.
“How’re you doing up there?”

“What is it, Kit?” Jean said, fearing that another patient was coming
in.

“I have a delegation to see you ... or someone.”

Jean put down the phone and walked down to the lobby. Tommy and Billy
Ellis and Buzzy Hancock were standing by the desk. They all held large
baskets.

“Whatever do you want?” Jean demanded of her brother.

“We brought these over,” Tommy said. “Mother and Becky and Mrs. Hancock
sent a lot of food over for you guys.”

Jean smiled. “That was nice, Tommy. Thanks for bringing them over.”

“There’s something else,” Tommy said. “We’ve formed a squad.”

“Yeah, a riot squad,” Billy added.

“That’s a riot, son,” Buzzy squelched him.

“What do you mean, a squad?” Jean asked.

“Oh, do errands, if there are any. You know, shipping, or errands
at the drugstore or books from the library for your patients. Just
anything anyone wants us to do,” Tommy said. “You just have Kit or
whoever’s on the switchboard call home when you want something. We’ll
get it done.”

Jean felt tears sting her tired eyes.

“We can cart clothes to the laundry,” Billy reminded Tommy. “We got
our bikes rigged up to carry big bundles. We could pick up your things
in the morning, and then the guys who would drive your trucks could be
free to do other things.”

“Oh, golly, boys,” Jean cried. “I’ll tell Dr. Barsch.”

Tommy saw how close Jean was to crying. “Come on, gang,” he said. And
the three boys ran down the hospital steps.

Jean fought back the lump in her throat and said to Kit, “Make out a
note to Dr. Barsch. He’ll keep them busy.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Kit said, jotting the message down on a scratch pad.

“Somehow I don’t feel so tired any more,” Jean confided. “I think I’ll
peek into the contagious ward before I go to bed.”

Kit grinned. “Maybe I should join you. I haven’t had any calls but
Tommy’s since I’ve been here. I’ll fall asleep myself, if I don’t get
more business.”

Jean made a wry face. “Don’t say that!” she cried. “You’ll put a whammy
on us! Just for that, we’ll probably have a half dozen calls before
morning!”

But as the night hours passed, Kit had all she could do to keep awake.
No outside calls passed through the switchboard. She sat silently for
a while staring at the mural which Jean had painted for the clinic,
and which now hung above the fireplace in the center of the lobby. She
studied the figures of the farmer and his wife and son holding hands
and the motto, “Co-operation, Ingenuity, Labor.” She smiled as she
remembered Jean painting the sturdy picture with Ted Loring’s words
in mind. Resolutely, she shook her head to clear it of the cobwebs of
drowsiness. It was a good motto, Kit decided. She felt pleased with
herself and with her community.




13. The Doctor’s Dilemma


As suddenly as the virus pneumonia epidemic had broken out, it stopped.
The staff couldn’t believe that Kit had had no calls through the long
night she sat at the switchboard. Ted Loring, who had stretched out
for a cat nap on Dr. Barsch’s sofa, woke to find that he had slept all
night. He jumped up guiltily and looked out of the window. The summer
sun was already high in the blue sky. Quickly Ted looked at his watch.
“Eight-thirty!” he cried. “I must have thought this was a hotel!” He
smoothed out his rumpled clothes as best he could and ran a pocket comb
through his tousled hair. Then he banged open the door of the office
and almost knocked Dr. Barsch down as he started out.

“So, you’ve decided to let me into my office,” the older doctor said.

“I’m sorry, sir. I had no idea it was so late. I left a call....”

Dr. Barsch shook his head in gleeful despair. “Too bad, old man,” he
said. “If business falls off any more the way it did last night, you’ll
be out of a job!”

“No new patients?” Ted asked incredulously.

“No new patients,” Dr. Barsch replied. “And so if you’ll excuse me,
I’ll ready my office for my out-patients’ calls. Office hours in a half
an hour, you know.”

Ted let out a war-whoop and hugged the older man.

“Dr. Loring,” Dr. Barsch protested, “I suggest you get yourself some
breakfast and a shave.”

“Sorry, sir,” Ted apologized, and laughed. “I had forgotten what it
was like to have a full night’s sleep.” He tore down the corridor and
headed for the cafeteria.

The dining room was full of chattering nurses and office help when he
came in. He immediately spotted Ethel sitting with Eileen and Helen
over near the corner. Dashing across the room, he nearly upset the
trays of two young office girls who were balancing them precariously on
their way to a table.

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered. “Hey, gorgeous! Do I know you? And if not,
why not?” he cried as he reached Ethel’s table.

Ethel’s weary face lit up as Ted sat down and reached for a cup of
coffee on her tray. “Poor man. It must be amnesia,” she explained
to her friends, “I believe we’ve met,” she said to Ted. “I seem to
remember, we even were married.”

“Well, what do you know!” Ted said gleefully.

“Now drink your coffee,” Ethel instructed. “My, you look terrible!” she
chided him as she inspected him.

Ted gulped down his coffee and snitched a doughnut from Ethel’s plate.
“Make you fat,” he said by way of an apology.

Both Eileen and Helen burst out laughing as they looked at Ted’s
slender wife.

Between mouthfuls, Ted said, “I mean that! You take a nurse off the
floor and put her into a lovely new home with nothing to do, and you
have to watch her diet! And that’s what’s going to happen. Starting
today!”

“Watching my diet?” Ethel teased.

“No,” Ted said, his mouth full of doughnut. “You get put in your
golden palace and you don’t stir out of it from now on!” he swallowed.
“Nothing to do from now on.”

Ethel laughed helplessly as she thought of the million chores to be
done at home. There were curtains to be hung, floors to be waxed, rugs
to be laid.

Jean and Kit came into the dining room and waved to the party at
Ethel’s table. They went through the line and selected their breakfast
and then joined the cheerful little company.

“It’s simply amazing,” Jean said. “Know what I did? I went for a nap
around nine last night, and I just woke up!”

“Me, too,” Ted said.

“Don’t be too optimistic,” Eileen warned. “We may have a flood of
patients today.” She looked over to the door. “Oh, oh,” she said. “Here
comes glamor boy.”

They all looked around and saw Dr. Benson standing hesitantly in the
doorway. Slowly he made his way through the line and then he chose a
table by himself. The food on his tray remained untouched as he sat and
stared out of the window.

“Ted, invite him over!” Ethel cried impulsively, clutching her
husband’s arm.

“Well, I can stand him if the rest of you can,” Eileen said grudgingly.

“No, wait,” Jean cried. “I think he probably wants to be alone. He’s
quite troubled. I know, because I talked to him last night.”

Ted sat down again and finished his coffee. “What’s the matter with
him, Jeannie?” he asked.

Jean hesitated. “I’m sorry I said anything,” she said finally. “He
confided in me, and I don’t think I ought to betray his confidence.”

Ethel and Ted and Helen nodded.

“Who is Dr. Benson?” Kit asked. “And what have you all got against him?”

Eileen explained about the new intern. She merely said, very justly,
that there were several things about him that the rest of them didn’t
understand.

“For example, his devotion to the little boy upstairs,” Helen said.
“Before Timmy came, I didn’t think he could be devoted to anyone but
himself.” She laughed a little. “But of all the funny people to be
crazy about!”

Ted nodded. “I think I’m beginning to understand,” he said. “Something
tells me that Dr. Benson maybe knows first hand what sort of family
Timmy comes from.”

Jean blushed furiously. “Please, let’s stop talking about him.” She
looked at Eileen, who was gazing at Dr. Benson as if she saw him for
the first time.

“You mean, you think they’re related?” Kit asked.

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Ted explained. “I just have a hunch our
new doctor knows a little something about living in the slums.”

Eileen jumped up and ran out of the dining room.

“Well, what’s the matter with her?” Ted demanded.

Ethel laid her hand on Ted’s arm. “I think we’ve discussed it long
enough,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me ...” and she got up and walked
out of the cafeteria.

Eileen was sitting on a bench in the hall outside of the dining room.
Ethel sat down beside her. “Let’s you and me catch up on our sleep,”
she said cheerfully.

“And I wouldn’t even give him a date!” Eileen cried. “No wonder he acts
so funny. He probably hates us all!”

Ethel put her hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “Never mind, dear,”
she said. “Dr. Benson probably understands.”

“But how could he? He must think we’re _awful_ snobs! But we didn’t
know! We just thought he was being fresh! And he probably thought that
we wouldn’t associate with people who were poor!” She clenched her
fists. “Oh, Ethel, and I was worst of all!”

Ethel studied the girl’s intense face. She nodded, but she wisely said
nothing about what she was thinking.

“I’m going to wait right here,” Eileen said grimly, “till he’s through
with his breakfast, and then I’m going to tell him he can take me out
any time he wants to.”

Ethel grinned and patted her arm. “I think you ought to go to bed.
You won’t feel so desperate when you’re rested.” She stood up and
stretched. “I’m going up to the laboratory for a few minutes to check
some of my notes. Then I’ll be upstairs in my old room if business
picks up.” She started off and then turned around. “And please don’t
tell Ted!”

Eileen waited a few minutes until Dr. Benson came out. She stood up and
smiled. He stopped, surprised.

“Good morning, Miss Gordon,” he said. His manner was cool.

“Good morning, Doctor,” Eileen answered. “I know this isn’t a good
place to go into things like this, but I’m ... I’m sorry ... well, for
a lot of things. And I’d be honored ... if you still want to take me
out some evening.”

The doctor stared at her. “Why, thank you very much, Miss Gordon,” he
said. “I’m going to be pretty busy for a while.” He hesitated. “You
see, I’d sort of like to get Timmy settled in some way, and that will
take a little time, I’m afraid. But I appreciate the gesture.”

Eileen felt as if she had been slapped in the face. “Any time,” she
said weakly, as she turned and sped down the corridor.

Jean came out of the dining room just as Eileen disappeared. Dr. Benson
nodded to her and sat down on the bench.

“I shouldn’t be goofing off,” he said, “but I keep going around in
circles about Timmy. Incidentally, what did you tell that gang at
breakfast?”

Jean sat down beside him. “Honestly, Doctor, I didn’t say a word. Dr.
Loring guessed the truth. I tried to change the subject, but everyone
kept asking questions. You see, they really are interested in you.”

Dr. Benson shrugged. “So now they all feel sorry for me. I see.”

“Oh, no!” Jean cried. “That isn’t it at all! Why should a lot of nurses
feel sorry for a doctor?”

“Well, that’s beside the point, anyhow,” Dr. Benson said. “I’m really
worried about Timmy, and what’s going to become of him. I’ve decided
I’ll keep him myself before I’ll turn him over to a home!”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Jean suggested. “I go on duty in a few minutes and
I want to call Mother.”

Tommy was waiting in the lobby when Jean and Dr. Benson came up. He
grinned and called, “Hi, sis! How’s business?”

“Falling off, thank heaven!” Jean cried. “Dr. Benson, this is my
brother, Tommy. Laundry service man!”

They shook hands. “We had quite a load this morning,” Tommy said
gleefully. “And boy, am I glad things are going to be slack. Not
that we don’t want to help, but we just scheduled a whale of a tough
ballgame for later in the summer. We’re going to need all the practice
we can get.”

“Baseball?” Dr. Benson asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, a gang of us has a club. Billy and Buzzy and the rest of the
kids at the high school. We play some important games, too. But I never
dreamed we could get a game with Mercyville. They’re just awfully
good....”

“Mercyville!” Dr. Benson cried. “I thought that was an orphanage!”

Tommy nodded. “It is, sort of. But it’s actually more like Father
Flanagan’s Boys’ Town. You’ve heard about Boys’ Town, haven’t you?
They’re really keen guys out there. They do everything themselves. But
they’re really just being nice to play baseball with us. They’re way
out of our class.”

“You mean, this place takes in orphans and boys with no homes? And the
boys really like it out there?” Dr. Benson quizzed.

“You’d never know they didn’t have real homes,” Tommy said. “They have
a swell time out there.” He sighed. “And can they play ball! I saw them
play Fieldston last week. It was a slaughter!”

Dr. Benson looked at Jean. “Why didn’t you explain to me about the
place?” he demanded.

She deliberately looked blank. “I don’t know too much about it,” she
confessed. “They have their own medical staff, and we simply make
routine checks out there to coordinate our health reports to the
county.”

“They have everything. Doctors and everything,” Tommy interrupted.

The young intern hesitated. “Imagine God listening to a prayer from an
old sinner like me,” he said softly as he walked away.

“What’s the matter with him?” Tommy asked.

“Oh ... nothing. Tell you later,” Jean cried, dashing after the doctor.
“And ... thank the boys for us, Tommy. You’ve been swell to help out!”

Dr. Benson waited for her at the foot of the stairs. “Let’s go,
gorgeous,” he said. “Lots to be done this morning, and I’m on duty.”

She looked at him. “I thought you were up all night. Don’t you go off
duty to get some sleep?”

“Sleep?” he cried. “Who wants to sleep on a day like this! Just look at
that sky! Say, this is perfect baseball weather, isn’t it?”

Jean giggled. “I’m right with you, Doctor. Let’s go.”

They entered the contagious ward, and Dr. Benson waited till Jean had
recorded the temperatures and pulses of the patients. Then he went over
to the bedside of a middle-aged woman. “Let’s hear that back,” he said
gently, as he put the stethoscope to his ears.

A pleased grin spread across his face as he listened. “Now, the front,”
he said, putting the instrument to the patient’s chest. “Say this
sounds good. I can’t hear a thing!”

The woman’s eyes lit up and she smiled at him.

“If we catch this virus right away,” he explained, “we can lick it in
no time. Now, if I send you home this week, will you behave yourself?
No heavy chores for a while. Lots of rest.”

She nodded happily. He patted her hand and moved on to the next patient.

When the examinations were over, Dr. Benson took the stethoscope from
around his neck and ran his hand through his red hair. He sighed
happily. “And now to see Dr. Barsch about Mercyville,” he said. “Want
to come along?”

Jean smiled and shook her head. “I _want_ to, but I can’t. I’ve lots of
work to do this morning.”

As Jean went the rounds of the floor, she eagerly waited for Dr. Benson
to come back. She peeked in at Timmy, who was sitting up in bed gazing
out of the window. Poor fellow, she thought. All recovered and no place
to go! Or so he thinks! She waved to him and went down the hall. As she
passed the operating room, she looked in. Sally and Hedda were cleaning
it.

“Business here today?” Jean asked.

Sally shook her head. “No, but now that the pneumonia seems to
have died down, we’re getting ready for the usual summer business.
Operations don’t seem to respect the weather, and we haven’t had time
to really clean up the right way for days!” She scrubbed the instrument
case furiously.

Jean grinned and went down to the floor desk. She picked up the
assignment chart and scanned it. Then, on impulse, she walked down to
the nursery and looked at the youngest guests through the large glass
window.

“Welcome to the world, people,” she cried happily.

Two red fists waved at her.

“Oh, you babies!” she cried. “I’d like to take you all home with me!”

“You would, would you?” Helen said, coming out of the nursery. “Well, I
don’t blame you. You certainly sound happy!”

“I am!” Jean cried. “It’s contagious. I’ve just been with Dr. Benson.”

“Dr. Benson? Happy? At breakfast his chin was down to his knees!”

“Something’s happened,” Jean replied mysteriously. “At least it _might_
happen.”

Before she could say more, Dr. Benson appeared, waving his hand.

“We’re in!” he cried. “Timmy can go out there any time.”

Jean turned around. “Just like that?”

The doctor paused to catch his breath. “I suggested to Dr. Barsch that
we investigate the place. So right off he called Boston and some people
in public aid that he knows. They gave Mercyville an A-number one
rating. So then we called out there. And Mr. Henderson, who runs the
place, simply said, ‘Bring him out. We’ll be glad to take him.’ Just
like that!”

“Just like that!” Jean gasped.

“Well, their big problem is overcrowding. They can take only so many
boys, Mr. Henderson said. But, you see, last month a lot of boys
graduated from high school and will be going out to work or to college.
So they have some room right now.”

Jean clasped her hands. “Now to tell Timmy. I hope he’ll want to go.”

Dr. Benson smacked his hands together. “Just leave Timmy to me.”

“When are you going to take him out?”

“Soon as I’m off duty,” he replied. “No use in hanging around here any
longer. The boy’s perfectly well, you know.”

He whistled as he went down the hall towards Timmy’s room.

“We certainly have done that man an injustice,” Helen said, watching
him go. “I feel like a heel, but I don’t know how to tell him so.”

Jean shook her head. “We don’t have to. I think he’ll get to like us
better from now on.”




14. Mercyville


“Now, the first thing we have to do, Tim,” Dr. Benson said to the boy
as they picked up the odds and ends Timmy had collected during his
stay, “is to get you an outfit.”

Large blue eyes stared up at him. “A what?” he asked.

“Clothes! You know, a suit, underwear ... the works!”

Timmy whistled. “You mean, jest fer me?”

Dr. Benson smiled. “Well, it won’t be so much. I’m only an intern, so
we can’t afford a regular trousseau--”

“Whazzat?” Timmy demanded.

The doctor laughed. “Never mind. We have everything now?”

“Yeah, but Doc, this place you’re takin’ me. What gives out there?”

“Oh, it’s just a place where a lot of boys live together. They run the
whole town, themselves, and they raise their own food--have their own
cows--”

“Cows? What fer?”

Dr. Benson stared at the boy. “For milk, of course! And they all live
and play and go to school together....”

Timmy recoiled at the mention of school. “That’s not fer me,” he said.
“I _hate_ school!”

Dr. Benson tousled his hair. “Well, never mind about school now. It’s
vacation time. You’ll have a lot of baseball and swimming and ...” he
stopped as he saw the blank look on the boy’s face. He felt a lump in
his throat as he realized that Timmy had never seen a game of baseball
or been near a place to swim. “You’ll like it,” he added. “Come on,
now. Let’s go.”

Eileen Gordon was in the lobby when they came down. Dr. Barsch had made
a final examination of the boy and had signed his release, and she had
the papers waiting for them.

She almost laughed when she saw Timmy wearing a rudely cut-down suit
which had apparently belonged to Dr. Benson. “You aren’t going anywhere
like that,” she said to the doctor, looking at the boy.

“Nope, we’re going shopping before we go out to Mercyville.”

“The two of you? Let me come along. I’m a good shopper!” she pleaded.

Dr. Benson turned to Timmy. “Okay?”

Timmy shrugged his shoulders.

“We could use a woman’s help,” Dr. Benson said. “Sure, come along.”

Eileen grinned. “Give me five minutes to get into my street clothes.”
And she ran towards the stairs.

Timmy fidgeted. “Dames! Why do they always wanta butt in?”

Just then, Tommy came in the front door and waved to them. “I’m glad I
didn’t miss you,” he cried. “I want to tag along, if I can. If I can
get a ride out to Mercyville, I can talk to their baseball captain
about the game.”

“Sure thing, Tom,” Dr. Benson said.

When Eileen was ready, the four started for the center of town. Tommy
chose the stores where they would shop, and Eileen did the shopping.
Dr. Benson secretly breathed a sigh of relief that she had decided to
come with them. Impulsively he turned to her as the clerk was wrapping
the last package.

“Why don’t you ride out with us? It’s a wonderful day for a drive.”

She looked at him gratefully. “Thanks. I’d love to. I’ll call the
hospital first.”

The drive through the Connecticut countryside was as beautiful as
promised. Timmy stared out of the car window as they wound around the
gentle curves taking them to Mercyville. For the first time in his life
he was seeing the abundant beauty of the country. Or perhaps it was
the first time he was able to notice it, because he was well fed and
comfortably dressed.

They passed a herd of cattle grazing on the side of a small slope. “So
them’s cows,” he said softly. “And they make milk. Well, well.”

“Jeepers!” Tommy exclaimed under his breath. “Yep, Timmy, they make
milk, all right. And you haven’t lived till you’ve tasted _fresh_ milk!
You’ll have your chance!”

Mercyville consisted of five acres of land nestled between two hills.
A stream bounded the land on the third side, and there were patches of
woods on the other side. Small cottages dotted the acres and in the
center was a building about the size of a large house.

“That must be the administration building,” Dr. Benson said as he
turned up the drive to the house. “Hey, look, Tom. There’s a ball
diamond. And I’ll bet those are your opponents out there practicing.”

Tommy groaned as he watched the boys playing ball. “Look at that
guy pitch!” he moaned. “And that fellow batting! He’ll _murder_ my
pitching!”

“Okay,” Dr. Benson said, “everyone out.”

They found Mr. Henderson in a small office at the front of the
building. He held out his hand to Dr. Benson as they entered his office.

“I’m very glad to see you, Doctor,” he said, clasping the intern’s hand.

“Thank you, sir,” Dr. Benson said. “This is Miss Gordon, our Supervisor
of Nurses, and these are Tommy Craig and Timmy Lester. Timmy would like
to be a member of your family. And Tommy is here to see your ball team
captain. Seems they have a game together this season.”

Mr. Henderson nodded. “Oh, yes. Elmhurst. Miss Gordon, it’s a pleasure.
And Timmy, I hope you’re going to like Mercyville.”

“Yeah,” Timmy said. “It’s okay, I guess.”

Mr. Henderson smiled and patted the boy’s arm. “Frankly, I don’t have
so much to do with our boys. I’d better call in our president and let
you talk to him.”

He picked up the phone and asked for Bert Cramer. Smiling, he turned
back to his guests. “Please sit down, won’t you? Bert’s out on the
diamond. He’s also our baseball manager, you know. He’ll be right in.”

In a few minutes, a slender boy with brown hair and soft brown eyes
knocked at Mr. Henderson’s open door.

“You sent for me, Mr. Henderson?” he asked in a low, melodious voice.

“Come in, Bert,” Mr. Henderson said. “We have a new member of our
family.” He smiled. “Bert, this is Dr. Benson from the Gallup Clinic in
Elmhurst.”

“How do you do, sir?” Bert said, shaking hands.

After Mr. Henderson had introduced them all, Bert grinned at Timmy
and said, “Gee, I’m sorry I’m not going to be around next year. But I
finish up here this term, you know. We have a swell guy for president
next year, though. I know you’ll like him.”

Dr. Benson nodded. “Tell me, Bert, what plans you have. We’re kind of
interested in what happens to you boys when you finish school here.”

Mr. Henderson put his hand fondly on the young man’s shoulder. “We have
great hopes for Bert,” he said.

“Play baseball, huh?” Tommy asked, eyeing him with doubt. “Well,
anyhow, we can be friends _before_ our big game.”

Bert laughed. “Well, as a matter of fact, I don’t play any more. I
used to play centerfield, and I do love the game. But I also play the
violin. I was afraid to take chances on injuring my hands, so I gave up
baseball. But I still manage the team.”

“Well, what do you know?” Tommy said. “You play the violin?”

“What a sissy!” Timmy exclaimed.

Bert chuckled. “That’s what a lot of people thought once. A lot of the
guys made fun of me till I met them in the boxing ring.”

Mr. Henderson chuckled at the memory. “Bert’s not much of a sissy,
Timmy. You’ll have to take his word for it, though. I doubt if he’d
challenge you. You’ll have to box fellows your own size.” He shrugged
his shoulders. “But tell them about your plans, Bert.”

“Oh, yes. Well, Timmy’s coming to Mercyville may be a sort of good
luck omen for me. In a little while I’m going into Elmhurst to try out
for a scholarship to Timothy College. Get it? That’s Timmy’s name. You
probably never heard of the school....”

“Timothy College!” Tommy cried. “My sister, Doris, is trying out for a
scholarship there, too! She plays the piano.”

“That _is_ a coincidence!” Mr. Henderson said. He stood up. “Bert, why
don’t you take Timmy and his friend down to meet George? That’s George
Michael, our president-elect. Dr. Benson and Miss Gordon and I can
clear up the details while you’re gone.”

Bert nodded, and led the small party out of the office.

Mr. Henderson’s face sobered as the young people left. “Children left
alone in the world constitute the worst tragedy I know of,” he sighed.
“I’m very glad we have room for Timmy. Every time I have to turn away a
boy, my heart breaks again.”

“That’s why I’m so glad you could take him, sir,” Dr. Benson said.
“You see, Timmy hasn’t had any sort of break from life yet at all. We
checked with the authorities when we finally found out who he was, and
his background was ... terrible! His father had been out of work for
months. There was a housefull of children, and they all lived in one
room. The rest of the family was killed in a tenement fire. Timmy was
out on the streets with a gang of hoodlums at the time.”

Mr. Henderson stroked his iron gray hair. “That’s as wretched a tale as
I’ve heard yet, and I’ve heard some pretty bad ones.”

Dr. Benson cleared his throat nervously. “I think you may have some
problems with Timmy. He doesn’t even seem to be aware that his family
is gone. He knows, of course, but he’s all wrapped up in a hard shell
which comes from living a life like that. And when he softens up and
gets human again, he’s going to feel the tragedy.”

Mr. Henderson nodded. “I understand.”

“I wonder,” Dr. Benson blurted out. “I don’t mean to doubt your word,
but I went through it, myself. We lived in a place like Timmy’s old
home. My parents died when I was in medical school, and it took months
before I even realized what had happened. Even though I had been so
much luckier than the other boys I knew, I was still suffering what
they call slum-shock years after I had left home.”

Mr. Henderson smiled gently. “Yes, I do know, Dr. Benson. I was a slum
child, myself. I think that’s why I started this home. I can never
forget the horrors I saw as a child, and I’d give anything in the world
to protect other children from them.”

Eileen shook her head. “Slum life _can_ turn out some pretty wonderful
people,” she said softly. “People determined to help others in the same
fix.”

Mr. Henderson smiled at her. “I guess that’s about the size of it.” He
stood up and went over to a filing cabinet. “I have here all the data
about Mercyville. Our medical and health records and our financial
status. The former is very good. The latter is never good, of course.
But we manage to make ends meet.” He handed Eileen and Dr. Benson
copies of the report. “You can look it over and take a copy back to Dr.
Barsch. He’ll probably want it for his records. As you see, we are an
accredited grammar and high school. And here,” he pointed to a page,
“is a list of our alumni. That’s our gold star page, so to speak. Some
of our boys are brilliant and have fine careers. Others are not so ...
so brainy, of course. But they also become useful, productive citizens.”

Just then the boys returned. George Michaels, the president-elect, was
with them. He was a tall, slim Negro boy. He and Tommy were so deeply
involved in a discussion about baseball that they were almost oblivious
to everyone else.

“George,” said Mr. Henderson, “I want you to meet Dr. Benson and Miss
Gordon from the Gallup Clinic in Elmhurst.”

George looked up, startled. Eileen and Dr. Benson both laughed as the
new president came back down to earth.

“Sorry, sir,” George said, shaking Dr. Benson’s hand. “Tom and I were
so deep in the technicalities of the game, I forgot where I was.”

Dr. Benson grinned. “I’m crazy about the game, myself. I can understand
your being so absorbed.”

Mr. Henderson looked at George fondly. “George is our star athlete. He
plays football, baseball and basketball.”

“A triple threat man, eh?” Dr. Benson asked.

“A real threat man,” Mr. Henderson said solemnly. “You asked Bert
Cramer a while ago what he was going to do when he left Mercyville. I
think you might be interested in George’s plans, too.”

“We certainly would,” Eileen said.

“Tell them, George,” Mr. Henderson said proudly.

George hesitated. “I sort of hate to talk about it till I’ve figured
out exactly how I’m going to accomplish it. But I love sports. As a
tiny child, I didn’t have much time to play games. There wasn’t any
place for me, either. In our neighborhood back home, they didn’t like
me to join in their organized games, because I am a Negro. I guess they
still discriminate. That’s why I want to open a youth center, some day,
for kids of all races and creeds.”

Dr. Benson and Eileen nodded soberly.

“That’s a fine objective, George,” Dr. Benson said quietly.

George turned to look at Timmy. “Mr. Henderson, did you know Timmy here
has never played baseball? And from the way I saw him run across the
yard, I think he’ll make a wonderful base-stealer.”

“You bet he will,” said Dr. Benson as he watched Timmy’s face to see if
he could get an inkling as to how Timmy was impressed by what he had
seen.

By this time it was obvious that Tommy and Bert Cramer were fast
friends. Bert shook his head sadly as Dr. Benson nodded to Eileen and
Tommy.

“I sure wish you could stay to supper,” he said. “I could drive you
back, Tommy, and I’d kind of like the fellows to meet you.”

Tommy hesitated. “Gee, I’d like to,” he answered. “If I could call the
folks, and if Dr. Benson didn’t mind.”

“Why should I mind, Tom?” Dr. Benson asked. “Go ahead and call home, if
you like.” A few minutes later it was all settled and Timmy walked out
to the car with them. On the way, they sat down on a bench for a few
minutes. Dr. Benson reached down and picked a blade of grass.

“You know, Timmy, I don’t want to give you a lecture,” he said. “But I
want you to know how impressed I am with the democratic spirit of this
place.”

“Whazzat?” Timmy demanded.

Dr. Benson chuckled. “Democracy is being well in spirit. Just as
healthy is being well in body, I guess you could say. You haven’t had
a very good start. When people are poor and forced into slums, they
get sick and scared, and sometimes all sort of crazy. Their bodies
are diseased and twisted because they don’t have enough to eat, or
warm clothes or fresh air. And sometimes their minds are diseased and
twisted with this fear and craziness. So pretty soon they turn on each
other and start to hate each other. The first thing they do is hate
people who look different. Or have different sounding names. Out here
you’re going to have the chance to get over any part of that sickness
you might have. You’re going to have fresh air and good food and lots
of time to play and grow and learn. You’re going to learn the best
lesson anyone can ever learn! That everyone ... I don’t care if they’re
white or brown or yellow or even purple or green--I don’t care how they
choose to worship God ... is a human being and has the same capacity
for dignity as anyone else. I’m a doctor, Timmy, and I deal in truth
and facts. These things are as exact truths as two plus two equalling
four.”

Timmy squirmed. “Aw, sure, Doc.” He picked up a blade of grass
and stuck it between his teeth. “I never thought about it before.
But George ... he’s right. Kids back home do pick on kids that’re
different.”

Dr. Benson nodded. “Mr. Henderson called him a real threat man. George
is going to be a real threat to intolerance and bigotry when he leaves
Mercyville. Those are just fancy names for being plain sick.”

Timmy grinned. “Hey, Doc! How about comin’ out to see me?”

Dr. Benson tousled his hair. “Try to keep me away, Timmy. You and I are
going to stick together. We’re pals, remember?”

Eileen and the doctor waved to him as they drove off. They watched
Timmy head back to where Mr. Henderson and George Michael were waiting
for him. Dr. Benson hummed in a satisfied way.

They drove through the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon in
silence. Finally Dr. Benson heard the sound of muffled sobs next to
him and he turned to look at Eileen. He slowed the car.

“Good heavens, baby, what’s the matter?”

Eileen dabbed at her nose with a tiny handkerchief. “That speech! What
you told Timmy, I mean. You’re some guy, doctor. And I feel as if I
should get out of your car and walk home!”

Dr. Benson grinned. “Oh, you’re not so bad,” he teased. “As a matter of
fact, you’re kind of cute. You sort of dress up the old jalopy.”

Eileen grinned in spite of herself. “Wasn’t I the Lady Bountiful this
morning, though, when I said I would condescend to date you some time?
Doctor, if you ever look at me again, you have a screw loose. And I’ll
be the happiest girl in the world!”

Dr. Benson stopped the car. “It just happens that I _have_ a screw
loose. Here. Give me that hanky. No, I’ll use mine.” He pulled out
his handkerchief. “These things women carry aren’t worth a darn.” He
wiped her cheeks tenderly. “Oh, Eileen, you darling little idiot!
Don’t you know that if you had looked at me when I first came the way
you’re looking at me now, I would have served my internship standing
on my hands, if you’d wanted me to? But when I got the brush-off from
the cool, crisp, efficient Miss Gordon, I decided to play things
differently. I guess I’ve been as big a dope as anyone.”




15. Graduation!


July was nearly over. And although there weren’t any summer patients
at the clinic, Jean and her classmates were very busy. Graduation was
scheduled for the end of the month. But before Jean, Sally, Hedda,
Ingeborg and Lucy could wear their registered nurses’ caps, they had to
take their final exams.

They all studied every free minute they had. And Jean was frankly
worried about her approaching exams. Although she had mastered most
of her studies with ease, she was still baffled by the nervous system
and the essentials of psychology which were required knowledge for the
graduate nurses.

Miserably she flipped through her psychology book one afternoon as
she sat alone in the lobby of the clinic. It was her day off, but she
refused to take time off to go home till she had mastered her lesson.

Gerald Benson found her huddled over her book and sat down beside her.

“Still grinding away?” he asked.

She nodded. “I can’t understand why I can’t get this through my head,”
she said desperately.

Gerald picked up her book. “Maybe I can help you,” he offered.

“Oh, go away,” she groaned with pretended despair. “Suddenly
everything’s changed. Eileen ... my good friend, Eileen ... has become
a witch who haunts me at night. She’s going to be on the examining
board. And so are all the doctors! I get all nervous when I think that
Ted or Dr. Daley or especially wonderful Dr. Barsch can up and flunk me
without a second thought if I don’t pass my exam.”

Gerald laughed. “Then I’m your friend of the hour. _I_ won’t be on the
board. I’m just an intern. Now, let’s see. What’s troubling you so?” He
turned to the front of the book. Then he closed it. “Let’s start at the
beginning. In the first place, did you ever run a switchboard?”

Jean nodded. “One summer I worked as a receptionist in an office.”

“Then there’s nothing to it. You’re just trying to master the
switchboard of the human body. Keep that in mind. Sensory nerves to the
brain or spinal column, depending upon whether the reflex called for
is automatic or deliberate. If it is an automatic response, such as
pulling your hand away when you touch a hot stove, the message goes no
higher than the spinal column. Otherwise, it goes to the brain. Your
brain tells you to turn up the thermostat because you’re cold in your
house. You had to learn that heating a house will warm you. But a tiny
baby will pull his hand away from a hot stove.”

Jean nodded.

“See how simple it is? The rest of it is just memorizing the various
parts. But to excite your interest, I’m going to tell you a story. I
think when you hear it, you’re going to _want_ to learn the various
parts. And anything you really want to learn, you will learn.”

Jean giggled. “You’re quite a philosopher, Gerald,” she said.

“I would rather like to go on into psychiatry if I can,” Gerald said.
“That’s why you’re going to find me so helpful today. This is my stuff.
But to get back to the story. You’ve undoubtedly had a toothache at one
time or another, haven’t you?”

Jean nodded. “I should say I have. I remember a particularly bad one
once, when it seemed as if all my teeth hurt.”

“That often happens,” Dr. Benson continued. “Sometimes, you may
remember, instead of the infected tooth in the upper jaw, let us say,
being the one that hurts, it is the tooth directly below it in the
lower jaw that seems to be causing the pain. Why do you suppose that
is?”

Jean shook her head. “I can’t imagine.”

Gerald went on. “That’s the fascinating part. What actually happens is
this. The area around the infected tooth hurts. It sends a message to
the brain, saying ‘Ouch.’ But the brain says, ‘Hold on a minute. You
must be confused. You can’t possibly hurt. It must be the other party
on your line. Now, let’s see. The other party on your line is the
second molar in the lower jaw. That’s the tooth which hurts.’ And, by
heaven, that’s what hurts, in spite of the fact that the tooth in the
lower jaw is perfectly sound.”

Jean grinned. “Really? That’s fascinating!” she cried.

Gerald stood up. “Now, go home. You can’t study here. You find out why
these fascinating things happen. I’ll drill you every day till exams
come. We’ll lick ’em, Witch-Gordon and the whole pack of ’em!”

Jean giggled. “Eileen should hear you say that,” she teased.

He laughed. “No girl of mine is going around flunking industrious young
students, either. You might remember that!”

Gerald was true to his word. Every day until exam day he drilled Jean
in the intricacies of the nervous system. And when she went in to face
the examining board, she felt more confident than she ever believed she
would feel.

Dr. Barsch headed the board. Dr. Daley, Dr. Jenkins, Ted and Eileen
asked the questions, but Jean was sure enough of herself to enjoy
the ordeal. As the exam went on, the doctors and Eileen became more
relaxed. Jean was a favorite among the staff members, and they were as
anxious as she that she do well.

Finally with beaming faces, the board came to the end of the questions.
Dr. Barsch looked around at the staff.

“I guess there’s no question in anyone’s mind, is there?”

They all shook their heads.

Dr. Barsch stood up. “Then I want to be the first to congratulate
you, Miss Craig. Your work here at the clinic has been more than
satisfactory. It will be a pleasure to have you take part in our
‘capping’ exercises tomorrow night.”

The following night, Jean and her whole class gathered together outside
of the small auditorium of the clinic. To the immense relief of all,
they all had passed their final exams and were ready to be capped.
Their families had already gathered in the auditorium, and Dr. Gallup
was on the platform together with Dr. Barsch and the rest of the staff.

The girls were all dressed in fresh, immaculate white uniforms. Finally
they received the signal and marched into the auditorium together. They
all sat down in the first row.

Dr. Gallup and the staff rose as the girls took their seats. Dr Barsch
stepped to the front of the stage.

“This is truly a memorable occasion for the Gallup Memorial Clinic,” he
said. “This is our first graduating class of nurses. I don’t need to
tell you how proud we are of our girls. I can see our pride reflected
on your faces, too.

“These girls have done the almost impossible. Usually when girls start
training they don’t have to jump in and perform as regular nurses, too.
But our girls did. We didn’t have enough registered nurses, so they
just went right to work. Without neglecting their studies, they stepped
right in and helped where they were needed. Don’t ask me how they did
it. Because frankly, I don’t know.”

The audience applauded.

Dr. Barsch smiled fondly down on his girls. “And because they did work
so hard, our later classes won’t have so much to do. Also, people of
Elmhurst, because of them, we have a much better clinic today than we
ever dreamed we could have.”

The audience applauded again as Dr. Barsch sat down and Dr. Gallup
rose. The applause for the revered doctor was deafening. He waited for
a moment, nodding his impressive white head.

“What do you want me to say about my girls?” he asked the audience.
“Why, I brought most of them into the world!” He rubbed his eyes.
“You’ll forgive the meanderings of an old man, but I keep thinking
about how quickly time passes. It seems like such a short time ago
that I gave Sally Hancock her first spanking.” He paused. “Hm,” he
continued, “and it wasn’t too long ago that I handed a diploma to a
painfully scrubbed youngster by the name of Edward Barsch and welcomed
him to the medical profession.”

In the front row, Hedda leaned over and whispered to Jean, “Where’s
Ted?”

Jean looked up at the stage. “Why ... I don’t know. He was up there a
few minutes ago.”

“And now,” Dr. Gallup continued, “I’m supposed to pretend that enough
years have gone by to turn my Edward into a stuffy old executive and my
babies into efficient nurses....”

The audience tittered. Dr. Gallup looked pleased with himself. But the
titter grew into a loud laugh, and the elderly doctor turned around.
Ted Loring was trying to steal, unnoticed, onto the stage. He carried a
huge bouquet of red roses. He held them behind him in an unsuccessful
attempt to conceal them.

Dr. Gallup clasped his hands together and rocked back on his heels.
“When Dr. Loring finds his seat, we’ll continue,” he said. The audience
roared as Ted blushed fiery red.

Dr. Gallup tried to cover his grin as he faced the audience once again.
“To get back to our girls, I think you all know something of what it
means to study for nursing. It means being able to give of yourself.
It means long hours with little tangible reward. But don’t pity these
girls for their hard labors, ladies and gentlemen. They know what it is
to receive the greatest intangible reward of all--the gratitude of an
entire community.”

The audience stood up and applauded as the girls rose to go to the
stage for their diplomas.

Jean led the girls to the stage. Dr. Gallup shook her hand and kissed
her cheek as he handed her the diploma. He repeated the performance
with the other girls. The applause continued during the entire ceremony.

Before Jean could return to her seat, Ted rose and walked over to her.
Dr. Gallup handed out the last diploma and turned toward Ted and Jean.

“I don’t know why I should have been so darned furtive about these
beautiful flowers,” Ted said. “Just before the ceremony started, Ralph
MacRae wired these flowers to Jean Craig, and I think they have a place
in the ceremony, also.”

Everyone clapped enthusiastically, and Jean blushed as she accepted the
bouquet.

Then Dr. Barsch rose again. He introduced Eileen to the assembly, and
the girls passed before her to receive their black ribbons for their
caps. Now they were official nurses. Eileen grabbed their hands warmly
as they passed her. Dr. Barsch imitated Dr. Gallup and kissed them all
soundly on the cheek.

Jean led her classmates down to their seats again. The audience crowded
around them as they opened their diplomas. Ethel, with tears in her
eyes, found Jean and walked with her up to meet her family.

Mr. and Mrs. Craig embraced their daughter. Mrs. Craig cried a little
as she saw Ralph’s flowers.

“My own girl,” she cried. “A real, bona fide nurse!”




16. Double Triumph


“And these guys do all their own work, too,” Tommy continued. The Craig
family was at lunch and at the moment was listening with mounting
interest to Tommy’s story about Mercyville. For Tommy had been spending
many afternoons out at the boys’ town with his new chum, Bert Cramer.

“They make their own butter and cheese from their own milk. And they’ve
a neat carpentry shop, too! They make furniture and stuff. But they
seem to have lots of time for games and swimming and stuff. Timmy is
making a swell adjustment. He’s crazy about the place.” He grinned. “I
wouldn’t mind living there myself.”

Mr. Craig smiled. “I guess we’ll have to lose you somewhere, son. Maybe
Mercyville will take you in.”

Mrs. Craig nodded. “I thought they already had. Seems to me Tommy’s
been out there almost constantly.”

“Mother,” Tommy asked, “would it be okay if I brought Bert home to
dinner?”

“My goodness, Tommy,” Mrs. Craig said, “I was wondering when you were
going to invite him here. You’ve been out there so much.”

“Would tonight be okay? He’s having his tryout this afternoon here in
town, and he could come after that.”

“Tonight would be fine,” Mrs. Craig agreed.

“You say he plays the violin?” Mr. Craig asked.

“Well, I’ve never heard him play. But that’s what he said,” Tommy said.

“What does he look like?” Kit asked.

“Aw, I don’t know. Like a fellow. He’s taller’n me. But he’s older.”

Mrs. Craig smiled. “Tonight we’ll have a dinner for our musicians. We
were going to have a special dinner for Doris, anyway.”

“Jeepers!” Tommy cried. “That’s swell! Excuse me, please. I’ll call him
right away before he leaves Mercyville!” He jumped from the table.

“I think I hear Becky in the kitchen,” Mrs. Craig said, getting up from
the table. She went into the hall and called to Becky.

“I’m just putting some fresh cookies into your jar,” Becky called back.
“Land but I’ve a mess of ’em here. Judge Ellis would be sick for a week
if I left them around the house for him to nibble at.”

She bustled into the hall. “Well, Marge,” she said. “So this is the big
day. Just get over one and you have another. Jean sure is right smart
in her cap ’n’ everything.”

“Thank you, Becky,” Mrs. Craig said. “We’re pretty proud of her. And
yes, this is Doris’s day. And now Tommy has invited a friend from
Mercyville for dinner, so we’ll have a little party. We can use the
cookies, you see.”

“You’re welcome to ’em, child. I’ve heard about this Mercyville place.
It’s wonderful, I understand.” She picked up her basket. “I have to
run, Marge. But you let me know first you hear about how Doris comes
out.”

Mrs. Craig walked with her to the door. “I certainly will, Becky. And
thanks so much for the cookies.”

After lunch, Doris went into the living room to practice. Mrs. Craig
worried about whether or not Doris should practice just before her
try-out, but she kept silent, not wanting to upset her daughter. As
she heard Doris’s skillful fingers run over scales and arpeggios,
she relaxed and went about her household chores with a light heart.
Certainly Doris couldn’t fail to impress the examiners!

At three o’clock they arrived. Mrs. Tyler, Doris’s music teacher,
appeared with Mr. Hensen and Miss Smythe of the college. Mrs. Craig
brought them into the parlor where Doris was still limbering up her
fingers.

“This is Doris,” she said, introducing her child to the young teachers.

“I’m glad we had the chance to break in on your practicing,” Mr. Hansen
said. “It’s sometimes easier to tell about a performance when the girl
doesn’t realize we’re listening.”

Doris smiled shyly and sat down on the bench. “I know you’re in a
hurry, so I’ll start right off,” she said.

She opened her small program with a Bach prelude. Her fingers moved
with precision and grace. Then she played the first movement of a
Beethoven sonata, and she closed with a Chopin etude.

Mr. Hansen and Miss Smythe were silent for a moment after Doris had
finished. Finally Mr. Hansen stood up. “Forgive me if I appear to be
rude, Mrs. Craig, but I would like to talk to Miss Smythe alone for a
minute.”

“Of course!” Mrs. Craig cried, jumping up. Doris and Mrs. Tyler
followed her out into the hall.

“You were just perfect, Doris,” Mrs. Tyler said. “I never heard you
play so well.” She wiped her eyes.

“Oh, Mother,” Doris sighed, leaning against Mrs. Craig. “I’m scared.”

Mrs. Craig patted her arm. “Relax, darling. We probably won’t know
for several months whether or not you won. If not, you can always try
again.”

Mr. Hansen stepped into the hall. He stroked his chin thoughtfully as
they all went back into the living room.

“I don’t understand it,” he said thoughtfully. “I simply don’t
understand it at all. Miss Smythe and I have been traveling the length
of the East Coast, and right here in Elmhurst we do something we’ve
never done before. Not once, but twice!”

Doris clutched her mother’s hand.

“It’s our usual procedure,” Mr. Hansen continued, “to award five
scholarships to Timothy College a year. We make quite comprehensive
notes about each student and then talk it over later and award them
just before the opening of school after we’ve completed our trip. But
this afternoon we heard a young man ... a violinist ... who prompted us
to choose him without any further discussion. He’s _extremely_ gifted.
I haven’t heard talent in such a youngster for years!

“And now your daughter. She is very gifted, Mrs. Craig. Both Miss
Smythe and I have no hesitation in inviting Doris to Timothy for a year
of study.”

Doris stared wide-eyed at the man. “You mean...?”

He nodded. “This seems to be good climate for musicians. I hope you’ll
decide to accept our scholarship, Doris. You’ve a precious talent, my
dear.”

Doris burst into tears and ran from the room. Mrs. Craig looked after
her uncertainly.

“Let her go, Mrs. Craig,” Miss Smythe said. “She’ll be all right in a
few minutes.”

Mrs. Craig gestured with her hands. “I ... I don’t know what to say.
Except thank you. Thank you very much.”

Mr. Hansen chuckled. “We’re more than thanked by hearing such a
promising youngster. I really would like to know what you people do to
produce such talent up here!”

“I hope you can stay to tea,” Mrs. Craig said.

Miss Smythe shook her head regretfully. “I hate to turn you down, Mrs.
Craig. But we have a train to catch in one hour.”

Still in a daze, Mrs. Craig watched them as they went down the long
driveway. And as she stood in the doorway, she saw Tommy and his new
friend, Bert, drive up toward the house. They waved at the passing car
and then they spotted her. Bert brought his car to a halt and they
jumped out. The older boy brought along his violin and tucked it under
his arm.

“Hey, Mom, here’s Bert Cramer,” Tommy called as they dashed up the
porch steps. “And you know what?”

Mrs. Craig grinned as she clasped the boy’s hand. “Yes, I do,” she
said. “And I think it’s perfectly marvelous!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Craig,” Bert said. “My winning that scholarship will
mean a lot to us all out there.”

“Just as Doris’s winning means a lot to us,” Mrs. Craig answered.

Tommy stared at his mother. “Aw, you’re kidding!” he said. “They told
Bert they hardly ever tell before they get back to Timothy.”

Mrs. Craig said, “I know. They made an exception in Bert’s case. _And_
in Doris’s case, too!”

Tommy turned a handspring in the hall. “Dopey old Doris!” he cried.

“Why, Tommy!” his mother said.

“Isn’t she wonderful, Mom?” he cried. “Isn’t she just about the most
wonderful girl ever?”

“Take Bert upstairs to see Jack,” Mrs. Craig told her son. “I think
Doris is up with him, now. We have a son in bed with rheumatic fever,”
she explained to Bert.

“Yes, ma’am, I know,” Bert said. “I’m very sorry.”

“Come on, Bert,” Tommy cried. “You’ll like Jack.”

Upstairs, Doris was pouring out the story of the afternoon to Jack, who
lay back on his pillow, grinning from ear to ear.

“I told you you could do it, Doris,” he said as Tommy and Bert came in.
“Hi, Tommy,” he said.

“Doris, this is Bert Cramer,” Tommy said. “And this is my brother,
Jack.”

Doris turned to face the boys. Her large dark eyes were shining with
happiness and her cheeks were flushed. Bert looked at her as if he were
seeing an angel. Suddenly he tore his gaze away and strode over to
Jack’s cot.

“Hi, there, Jack,” Bert said. “Tommy’s told me a lot about you.”

“Bert won a scholarship, too, kids.”

“Jeepers! What talented company I have!” Jack cried. “And here I
thought that Doris was just family. I guess I’ll have to be more polite
to the genius in the future!”

“Jack, you’re a goose!” Doris said, hugging him. “And Bert, I think
it’s wonderful that you won.”

“Thank you, Doris,” Bert said. “I’m just now beginning to realize _how_
lucky I was to win.”

Doris looked at him. She saw his honest brown eyes looking straight
into hers, and she blushed.

Dinner was hilarious. Mr. Craig and Tommy and Jack, who was permitted
to eat downstairs now, kept everyone in stitches with old jokes and
bad puns. And after a dessert of apple pie and ice cream, the family
adjourned to the parlor.

“I wonder,” Mr. Craig mused, “whether we might hear our young geniuses
perform.”

Without hesitation, Bert said, “I left my violin in the hall. If you
like, I’ll get it.”

“He’s a pretty poised youngster for one so young,” Mr. Craig said,
watching him go out to the hall.

“My, he’s a nice kid,” Kit said.

“You can say that again!” Tommy agreed. “I’m gonna get the gang
together next time he comes for dinner. We’ll have a peachy time.”

They could hear Bert tuning his violin in the hall.

“Tommy,” Mr. Craig said, “isn’t Bert a little old for your gang?” He
glanced over at Doris. “I have a hunch that next time he comes to
dinner, he might be calling on someone else.”

Bert came back into the parlor and handed Doris some sheet music. “This
isn’t exactly fair. You have to do all the sight reading. I know it by
heart.”

Doris sat down at the piano. “I don’t mind,” she said. “Oh good!
Scarlatti! Why, I know this sonata!”

They began to play. The music transported everyone in the room, and
they played together as if they had practiced together for years. As he
played, Bert looked down at Doris, and Mr. Craig nodded and stroked his
chin. It was obvious to him that they would see a great deal of Bert
Cramer this summer, and not as part of Tommy’s gang.




17. Judge Ellis Is Trapped


After great spluttering and fussing, Judge Ellis had finally yielded to
Aunt Becky’s ultimatum that he go to the clinic for a checkup.

“Confound that woman!” he muttered under his breath as he clamped
his straw hat on his massive white head and tucked his walking cane
under his arm. The impressive man of law had met his match when he had
married the stern New England woman a few years before.

Aunt Becky stood in the front door waiting for the judge to get ready
to go out. She looked fondly at her husband as he surveyed himself in
the old-fashioned, full-length mirror which stood in the hall.

“And you can stop muttering those terrible things about me, too!” she
commanded.

“Bah!” Judge Ellis snorted. Then he leaned over and laid his cheek
against hers. The tender little gesture was a token of the great love
these two strong-willed people had for each other.

Aunt Becky held him back at arm’s length and studied his appearance.
“You’re a shameful man,” she said gently, “to be so handsome at your
age!”

“Humph!” the judge exclaimed. “You talk as if I belonged in my grave!”

“Oh, scat! Out with you!” Becky cried.

Whistling jauntily, Judge Ellis strolled down the walk and turned
toward town. He would walk on such a fine day. This visit to the clinic
was sentimental nonsense, he told himself. But if it would please
Becky....

Dr. Daley, the clinic internist, was waiting for the judge when he
arrived. The doctor was a comparatively young man, and he fervently
hoped that he would find Judge Ellis in good shape. He knew what a
chore it would be to try to convince the eminent citizen of Elmhurst to
take any sort of treatment.

Dr. Daley’s heart sank as he saw the older man’s sagging waistline. But
he smiled cheerfully and invited the patient into his office.

“This stuff and nonsense,” Judge Ellis snorted, “is a complete waste
of time, young man.” He glowered at the doctor. “Why aren’t you taking
care of _sick_ people? I’m a well man, as you can tell by looking at
me. And right this minute I should be down at City Hall. An important
committee meeting is awaiting me.”

Dr. Daley nodded. “You look pretty good, sir,” he admitted. “Now if
you’ll take off your coat and shirt, I’ll listen to your heart.”

Grudgingly the Judge obeyed.

The doctor nodded as he listened to the tired old heart. “And now the
blood pressure,” he commented as he adjusted the gadget around the
Judge’s arm.

After he had been weighed, Judge Ellis put his shirt and coat back
on and knotted his tie carefully. Dr. Daley, thinking hard, sat down
behind his desk and looked over Judge Ellis’ medical history.

“Of course this is nowhere near a complete examination. I want to have
some lab tests made,” the doctor said.

“Humph,” was Judge Ellis’ reply. “This is a waste of both your time and
mine.”

The doctor nodded. “Judge Ellis,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d
give me a little advice. You see, my father is a prominent surgeon in
New York City, and you can’t tell him anything. He has studied medicine
all his life, and he is a very wise man ... medically speaking, of
course.”

“Glad to hear it,” the judge grunted.

Dr. Daley sighed. “But he’s a baby in some ways. A couple of years ago
he made some bad financial investments. He knew what he was signing
when he made the transactions. Now he wants to sue the company. But his
lawyer ... a young man about my age ... but _very_ good ... advises him
not to sue.”

Judge Ellis grunted. “Why not?”

Dr. Daley shrugged. “He’d be throwing good money after bad. The company
couldn’t pay even if he did sue. He won’t get a cent.”

“Who’s handling the case? Your father’s lawyer, I mean?”

“Stanley Jordan of Smith, Perkins and Jordan.”

Judge Ellis nodded gravely. “Jordan is an excellent man. Your father
should have implicit faith in him. Know him well!”

A smile spread across the doctor’s face. “But, sir, you don’t know my
father. He thinks because Jordan is a young man and he is much older,
that he knows better.”

Judge Ellis banged the desk with his fist. “Thunderation, man! Then why
did your father go to Jordan in the first place? What in heaven’s name
does a doctor know about the law, anyway?” He sniffed. “You tell your
father that Judge Ellis, who is undoubtedly his age or better, tells
him to stop being a fool and to listen to what Jordan says!”

Dr. Daley repressed a chuckle. “Thank you, sir,” he said.

“Is that all, young man?” the judge demanded.

Dr. Daley scribbled something on a pad and held it out to Judge Ellis.
“I think so, for today.”

The judge stood up and shook hands with the doctor. Then he went out to
the corridor and opened the note Dr. Daley had given him.

  Judge Ellis:

  Your blood pressure is up enough to warrant further laboratory
  tests. If you will report to the lab, they will make all the
  arrangements for your convenience. Also, I want you to take off at
  least twenty pounds. I’m sure Mrs. Ellis can arrange a fat-free and
  low carbohydrate diet for you. You should adhere to this diet for
  at least a year. The weight should come off slowly, just as it was
  put on. If you smoke, do so in moderation.

Judge Ellis scowled and turned menacingly towards the doctor’s office.
Then he looked at the note again.

There was a postscript.

  Thank you, sir, for the advice about my father. I don’t know why
  he thinks that just because he is an elderly man and famous in his
  field, he knows all there is to know about every other profession.

Judge Ellis began to chuckle. His chuckle grew into a full-bodied roar.
The girl at the desk looked up, startled.

“Young lady!” he boomed. “Can you direct me to the laboratory?”

In his office, Dr. Daley chuckled a little over the episode. He put
aside Judge Ellis’s medical history and snapped on his inter-office
phone. “Send in the next patient, Miss Babcock,” he said.

The girl outside answered, “But Dr. Daley, Dr. Barsch has an operation
he wants you to attend in a half hour. You haven’t forgotten it, have
you?”

The young doctor’s hands grew clammy at the thought of the operation
he was to attend. “Thank you, Miss Babcock,” he said. “Thank you for
reminding me.”

His face was grim as he left his office and went upstairs to prepare
for the operation. He met Jean on the second floor corridor. She was
armed with her sketch pad.

“So you’re to try your hand at sketching a cancer operation, Miss
Craig,” Dr. Daley said.

“Yes, sir,” Jean answered.

The doctor shook his head. “This will probably be very unpleasant. I’m
frankly scared to death every time we attempt to remove a cancer.”

“I know,” Jean replied solemnly as they went into the operating room.

Howard Mills, a middle-aged farmer, had developed cancer in his lung,
and Dr. Barsch was dubious as he prepared for the operation. If the
malignant cells had been confined to one lung, Mr. Mills could be
pulled through. But if the cancer had invaded the surrounding tissues,
there was little hope for his life.

“The worst part about this operation,” Dr. Barsch told Jean as they
scrubbed in the operating room lavatory, “is that one never knows. The
surrounding tissues may look fine and normal, but cancer cells can
break away and get into the blood stream and be carried far from the
spot of operation.”

“It’s a grisly business,” Dr. Daley affirmed.

“It’s terrible!” Jean cried.

Dr. Barsch sighed and turned his attention to his scrubbing. Dr. Daley
said, “If Mr. Mills had come in for regular checkups, this might not
have happened. Someday people will learn.”

Eileen Gordon came in briskly and rolled up her sleeves to scrub. Dr.
Barsch looked at her with fond exasperation.

“So you’re going to assist me,” he commented dryly.

She looked up at him, puzzled. “Yes, sir,” she answered. “This is too
important to let anyone else handle.”

The doctor chuckled a little. “Of course you know that Dr. Benson will
be on hand, too. Dr. Daley will stand by while I work, and Dr. Benson
will do the probing when we make the incision. That boy has the makings
of a fine surgeon,” he added, almost to himself.

Eileen reddened. “I didn’t know, sir. Honest.”

Dr. Barsch turned from the sink. “I won’t have it!” he bellowed. “I
simply won’t have it! I get a girl trained and some young nincompoop
rushes her off to the altar! How many supervisors do you think I can
train in the space of two years?”

Eileen giggled. “Oh, goodness, doctor. Dr. Benson hasn’t even _talked_
about marriage! We’re just good friends.”

Dr. Barsch patted his hands with a sterile towel. “Good friends,
indeed! I’ve seen that young idiot mooning about here as if he invented
falling in love!”

“Here he comes, Doctor,” Jean warned.

“Let him hear me,” Dr. Barsch said defiantly, but he lowered his voice.

If Dr. Benson had been mooning about, he showed no evidence of it this
morning. He glanced at the clock as he began to scrub. Each person in
the room was required to scrub for ten minutes. Then he meticulously
scoured his hands and arms with a small brush, taking particular care
to clean around the base of the nails where dirt can be imbedded.
When he had finished, he bathed his hands and arms in an antiseptic
solution. He didn’t even glance at Eileen, who was scrubbing at the
next basin.

The patient was wheeled in and transferred to the operating table. In
spite of the fact that he was under opiates, Mr. Mills moaned. Dr.
Henry waited till he was ready for the anesthetic and then fitted
a cone over the man’s nose and mouth. Watching the blood pressure
carefully, he checked the pulse rate every few seconds. At last the
moaning stopped, and Dr. Henry nodded.

Dr. Barsch stood beside the patient’s chest ready to make the incision.
Gerald Benson stood on the other side of Mr. Mills. A step behind Dr.
Barsch, Dr. Daley stood. Dr. Henry was stationed at the patient’s head.
Eileen and Jean were on a level with the patient’s hips. They all wore
sterile hospital gowns, masks and gloves. Not a single strand of hair
escaped from the sterile white caps on their heads.

Dr. Barsch let out his breath slowly and made his incision. Jean
watched carefully as he opened the chest. The incision was more
difficult to make than one for an abdominal operation, but Dr. Barsch
cut skillfully, and soon the lung was exposed. They all shuddered as
they saw the cluster of malignant cells imbedded at the base of the
lung. Jean sketched quickly. She was fascinated at the sight of the
exposed heart beating slowly and calmly as if it were undisturbed.

Then the cutting out of the cancer began. Dr. Barsch cut under the
growth, praying that he would find healthy tissue beneath. But there
was more cancerous material below. He sighed and cut down again.
Finally, he reached normal tissue. Then he and Dr. Benson began the
long, tedious and important task of exploring the entire cavity for
more malignant tissue. The clock ticked away minutes as they probed.

“All right,” Dr. Barsch said finally. “Take my side.”

They changed places, and Dr. Benson then went over the parts that
Dr. Barsch had checked while the older doctor explored Dr. Benson’s
territory.

Eileen handed them instruments without instruction, anticipating
their needs. And Jean bent her head over her task as she recorded the
entire lung and the surrounding organs. She tried to draw every small
capillary which extended out into the lung area to form a structure
which looked like a branch of a tiny bush. Dr. Henry watched over the
patient’s breathing and pulse rate as carefully as a mother watches
over a newborn child.

Finally Dr. Henry spoke. “That’s all,” he said hoarsely. “We can’t take
any more chances. His pulse rate is falling.”

As long as the patient was under anesthetic, Dr. Henry was the general.
As soon as he spoke the other doctors were quick to follow his
instructions.

Dr. Barsch shook his head. “All right,” he said grimly. “But I don’t
like it.” Silently he began to sew up the wound. First he drew it
together with soluble clamps, and then he stitched the chest together
as if it were a piece of cloth.

Jean, clutching her sketch pad and pencil, looked at all their faces.
Dr. Barsch’s was grim and determined as he sewed. Dr. Daley’s face was
expressionless. Dr. Benson’s was white and drawn. He looked as if he
were in pain. Dr. Henry shook his head from side to side as he worked
over the man’s respiratory system. Eileen’s face was a white mask. Jean
knew that the color had left her own face as well.

She knew, too, that they were all praying to a Higher Power whose
Presence is always very much felt in an operating room. No one in
the room had ever known Mr. Mills before he came to the clinic. But
that didn’t matter. His was a precious life ... a human life. And his
body was the scene of a battle of that greatest of all wars since the
beginning of the human race. Man was at war with his natural enemy,
disease.




18. Just Among Girls


Billy Ellis and Buzzy Hancock raced up the Craig driveway, hooting and
howling as they ran.

Tommy appeared on the front porch just as they reached the steps. He
waved at them vigorously and called, “Hey, guys! C’mon! Hurry up!”

Billy and Buzzy hurdled the porch rail and collapsed on the porch
swing. “Jeepers!” Buzzy panted. “We’ve run just about a mile!” He
fanned himself with his open hand. “What’s the big news?” He snorted.
“Hurry ’n’ tell us, because we gotta get back to school and pick up the
stuff for the game.”

“Jack went to the clinic last night,” Tommy said importantly.

Billy and Buzzy stared at each other in consternation.

“Aw, gee,” Billy said quickly. “He isn’t sick again, is he?”

Tommy paused a moment, enjoying the scene. “Dr. Loring had him put in
the hospital because he thinks he’s well again--”

“Zowie!” Buzzy cried. “Really?”

“And they had to make lab tests to be sure,” Tommy continued
importantly.

“Well, tell us. When’re they going to know if he’s okay?”

Tommy puffed himself up. “I already know,” he said. “You can ask me if
you want to know.”

The two boys jumped on him and wrestled him down. “C’mon!” Buzzy cried.
“Stop being an egghead! Tell us!”

Tommy freed himself and sat up. “Take it easy, you guys!”

“Talk, son,” Billy demanded, aiming at him with an imaginary gun.

“Okay. Okay,” Tommy said. “Jack’s coming home this morning. He’s all
through his exams. As far as they know, he’s okay.”

Billy and Buzzy both let out an Indian war whoop and threw themselves
down on the swing again.

“He’s not supposed to have a lot of excitement,” Tommy cried. “But
jeepers, I don’t know how he’s going to avoid it! The things that go on
round this house!” He took a big breath. “I guess you guys know both
Frank Howard and Ralph are supposed to come this week.”

“Aw, love!” Buzzy protested. “What’s so exciting about that?”

Tommy shrugged. “Search me,” he said. “But the way Kit ’n’ Jean act,
you’d think it was the most important thing ever.” He rolled his
eyes and added, “It gets pretty exciting when there’s going to be a
wedding, though.”

“Who’s gonna get married?” Billy asked. “Kit or Jean?”

Tommy made a face at him. “You dopey guy!” he cried. “Kit has a whole
college to go through! How could she get married?”

Buzzy shrugged. “I can’t figure out what women can do. Hey, Tommy, give
us the key to the gym locker, will you? We got a ball game, today.”

Tommy tossed him the key. “I’ll meet you guys out on the field,” he
said. “I want to wait for Jack.”

Billy and Buzzy vaulted the porch railing and raced down the driveway.
Tommy put his hands in his pockets and sat down on the swing. He
whistled as he swung himself back and forth.

Pretty soon the Craigs’ car turned in the drive, and Tommy jumped up.
Waving, he dashed down the steps and waited till Mrs. Craig had pulled
the car up in front of the house.

Jack opened the door and was about to jump out when Mrs. Craig
restrained him.

“Just a minute, Jack,” she said. “You mustn’t be so active!”

“Aw, Mom!” Jack protested, but he waited till she came around to help
him out. Tommy supported him on the other side.

“I’m well, Tommy!” he cried. “I can get up ’n’ _everything_!”

Mrs. Craig laughed. “Easy, son,” she advised. “Dr. Loring said you were
just to get up for a little while each day.”

Jack shrugged. “Aw, gee,” he complained. “Do I have to go back to bed
now?”

Mrs. Craig nodded. “I’m afraid so, Jack.”

Jack grimaced. “I’m sick of that old bed!”

After Jack had been settled in his room, Tommy and Mrs. Craig came
downstairs together. Tommy turned to his mother, puzzled.

“What’s with him?” he asked. “For months he lies there and doesn’t make
a peep. Now all of a sudden he gets dopey and cross.”

Mrs. Craig laughed. “And I don’t blame him. As long as he knew he was
sick, he just grinned and took it. Now he knows he’s well again and
he’s impatient to be up leading a normal life.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said thoughtfully. “Gee, I sure wish he could see the
game!”

Mrs. Craig patted her son’s head. “There will be lots of ballgames.”
She sighed heavily. “Aren’t you supposed to be practicing for the game?
I have a million things to do today, and I don’t want you underfoot.”

“You don’t practice for a ballgame the day you play it,” Tommy
explained. “You just warm up.”

His mother smiled. “Then run along and warm up. Scat!”

Tommy grinned and made a dash for the door. He turned and called,
“Keep your fingers crossed for us. Don’t forget!”

Mrs. Craig chuckled. “I will, dear.”

She went upstairs and stopped before Kit’s closed door. Inside she
could hear soft voices.

“Girls,” she called, knocking at the door. “Aren’t you ever coming down
for breakfast?”

“Come in, Mother,” Kit called back.

Kit and Doris were sitting on Kit’s unmade bed. They still wore their
pajamas, and their hair was still uncombed.

“For heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Craig said. “It’s after nine o’clock!
Goodness, you’d better hurry!”

Kit yawned and stretched. “It’s just lovely, being able to lounge
around like this. We’ve been awake for hours!”

Mrs. Craig sat down on the edge of the bed and hugged her daughters.
“You’re a couple of lazy ne’er-do-wells!” she said. “Now, up with you!”

Both girls jumped up and disappeared into the bathroom. Mrs. Craig
could hear the shower going full blast. She smiled and started to pick
up the bedroom.

Doris came out, fully clothed. “Oh, Mother, don’t,” she cried. “We’ll
straighten things!”

Mrs. Craig looked at her daughter and suppressed a laugh. Doris’s face
was a study in consternation.

“Ralph’s train comes in at three this afternoon,” Doris said finally.

“Yes, dear. I know,” Mrs. Craig replied.

Doris sat down and gazed out of the window. “This is awful to say
when he’s _practically_ my brother, but I sort of want to go to the
ballgame.”

Kit came in, rubbing her head with a towel. “Since when are you so
interested in baseball? I didn’t know you knew a ball from a bat!”

Doris blushed. “When a girl’s own brother has an important game, I
think she ought to see it!”

“Humph!” Kit said. “The girl’s own brother has had a whole series of
games this summer. I’ll bet you haven’t seen one yet!”

“That’s enough, Kit,” Mrs. Craig said severely.

Kit smiled. “I’m sorry, Doris,” she said, putting on a pair of blue
jeans. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”

Mrs. Craig put an arm around Doris’s shoulder. “Never mind about Ralph
coming, dear,” she said. “I’m sure both he and Jean will understand.”

Jean came in while Doris and Kit were eating breakfast. She poured
herself a cup of coffee and took a doughnut from the cookie jar.

“I had breakfast at the hospital,” she told her mother, “but I’ll eat a
little something just to be sociable.”

Mrs. Craig gazed fondly at her three daughters as they ate a leisurely
breakfast. Kit, in blue jeans and cotton plaid shirt, had her bare
feet wrapped around the rungs of her chair. Doris was pretty in a soft
cotton frock. She wore loafers and no socks, but her bare legs were
brown enough to give the illusion of stockings. Jean, on the other
hand, was crisp and white in her nurse’s uniform.

Jean set down her coffee cup. “Mother,” she said finally, “is it all
right if Ralph and I get married this fall?”

Doris and Kit looked at their sister.

“You sound as if you were planning a picnic,” Kit drawled.

“Well, for goodness sake,” Jean replied, “we’ve got to start planning
_sometime_.”

“Of course you do, dear,” Mrs. Craig said.

“We thought an October wedding would be nice,” Jean cried. “October is
my favorite month of the year.”

“Where do you want to be married? What church, I mean?” Mrs. Craig
asked.

Jean jumped up and hugged her mother. “Oh, Mother,” she cried, “can’t I
be married right here at home? I love this house so!”

Mrs. Craig beamed. “Of course, dear. We were hoping that’s what you
would want.”

“Me, too,” Kit cried. “I wouldn’t be married _anywhere_ else!”

Mrs. Craig stared at Kit. “Great heavens!” she cried. “You aren’t
planning a wedding, too!”

Kit laughed. “Of course not! Not for years and years. By the time I’m
ready to be married, I’ll be a plump little middle-aged woman, and
Frank will be in a wheel chair.”

Mrs. Craig and the other girls were quiet for a moment. Finally Mrs.
Craig said, “Then you’ve made a definite choice.”

Kit hesitated. “I ... I think so, Mother. I’m not sure.”

Doris stood up. “Come on, Jean,” she said. “I want to show you
something.”

Kit caught her arm. “No, wait, Doris. There’s no reason you can’t hear
this, too.” She studied her plate. “Frank and I talked a little bit
about it while I was in Washington. Of course I want to finish school.
But I ... I think I’m really in love with Frank Howard, Mother.”

Mrs. Craig sighed and folded her hands. “That’s the important thing,
Kit,” she said. “And your father and I think he is a very fine person.”

Doris and Jean squealed.

“That’s wonderful, Kit!” Jean cried.

“Oh, jeepers! It’s thrilling!” Doris echoed.

Kit grimaced. “I’m sorry. Let’s get back to the wedding. Let’s have
it in October with lots of bitter-sweet around and the bride and
bridesmaids in bright autumn colors....”

“Hey, whose wedding is this?” Jean cried.

Kit scowled at her playfully. “Oh, you’ll want the regular conventional
white and pastel wedding.”

“Well, what’s wrong with white and pastel?” Jean wanted to know.

Kit shrugged. “It’s your wedding,” she agreed. “Go ahead. Don’t be
imaginative. I don’t care.”

“Oh, Mother!” Jean cried.

Mrs. Craig laughed in exasperation. “You all sound as if you were
children again. My goodness, Kit, _whatever_ is wrong with you this
morning?”

Kit laughed. “Oh, nothing. I’m just jealous. Everyone’s going to have
her beau on hand but me.”

“And I don’t have any beau on hand or anywhere else,” Doris said,
tossing her head.

Kit looked at her. “Is that so?” she drawled.

Doris jumped up, her cheeks scarlet. “Mother!” she cried. “Make her
stop!”

Mrs. Craig sighed in exasperation. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t too
big for me to turn over my knee, Katherine Craig!” she said.

Kit jumped up and put her arm around Doris. “I’m sorry, Doris,” she
cried. “I was just teasing you.”

Jean was puzzled. “Whatever is this all about?” she asked. Kit started
to explain, but Mrs. Craig broke in firmly.

“Tommy brought a friend home to dinner the other night, Jean,” she
said. “A very nice boy from Mercyville. He won a scholarship to Timothy
College, too. And he seemed to be very fond of Doris. That’s all.”

Jean whistled. “A friend of Tommy’s? He must be a baby!”

Doris stamped her foot. “He’s almost as old as Kit!” she said. “I think
you’re both ... awful!” And she ran from the kitchen.

Mrs. Craig looked at her older daughters sternly. “Now really, girls,”
she said, “I’m ashamed of you both!”

Jean and Kit looked at each other, crestfallen.

“Oh, golly,” Jean said. “I keep forgetting Doris is growing up.”

Mrs. Craig looked at them severely. “It would help if you two could
remember how mixed up and difficult life seemed to be when you were her
age.”

Kit jumped up impulsively. “We’re both dreadful,” she admitted. “But
we’ll make it up to her. Why don’t we invite Bert to dinner? After the
game?”

“I think it’s up to Doris,” Mrs. Craig replied. “I’ll suggest it,
though,” she said, relenting a little.

Jean got up and went into the parlor. Doris was sitting on the piano
bench, her hands resting on the piano keys. Jean slipped her arm around
her sister’s shoulders.

“Your new friend sounds very nice, Doris,” she said shyly. “I hope I
can meet him soon.”

Doris grinned. “He’s really quite wonderful,” she admitted candidly.
“And he’s asked me out for our first date ... to a concert ... next
week!”




19. Elmhurst vs. Mercyville


The bleachers of the ballpark at Elmhurst High School were rapidly
filling. Down on the field, Tommy was throwing a ball to his warm-up
catcher, and Billy and Buzzy, together with the rest of the school
team, were running, catching balls that were batted out to them, and
playing catch.

The Mercyville team was on the other side of the field warming up.
Doris and Kit climbed into their bleacher seats just back of first base
and watched the practice eagerly.

“I don’t know so much about baseball,” Kit admitted. “We should have
brought someone along who knows the game.”

“Yes,” Doris agreed.

At three o’clock, the game started. Mercyville was at bat first, and
Kit felt her heart sink as Tommy, the pitcher, faced the first batter.
He looked very small and young as he took his windup.

Tommy retired the first two batters, but the third man to face him
singled to right field. Buzzy Hancock, who was playing right field,
caught the ball on the first bounce and hurled it to the second
baseman. The Mercyville runner, who had rounded first base, saw the
Elmhurst second baseman catch the ball, and he scooted back to first.
Tommy tugged the neck of his shirt and turned to pitch to the fourth
batter. He struck the boy out on four pitches.

Kit sighed with relief and settled back. Doris gnawed the end of her
finger.

“I wish I hadn’t come,” she confessed to Kit. “This is awful!”

Kit, realizing that Doris’s loyalties were divided, nodded
sympathetically.

They watched the game in silence for two innings. Mercyville finally
scored two runs, but Tommy was still pitching well.

Finally Kit and Doris heard Jean call to them from the back of the
bleachers.

“Hey, there!” she called. “Is there room for two more down there?”

“Oh, golly, there’s Jean with Ralph!” Kit cried. “Come on down!” she
called to them. “There’s lots of room.”

Jean and Ralph made their way through the crowd. Doris and Kit squeezed
over to make room for them. Ralph grabbed their hands in welcome as he
sat down.

“When Ralph heard there was a ballgame,” Jean explained, “he insisted
on coming. We haven’t even been home yet!”

“Mercyville is ahead by two runs,” Kit lamented.

“Yes, we heard,” Ralph said.

“I’m glad we have someone who knows the game with us, now,” Doris said.
“Kit and I can’t make head or tail out of what is going on.”

As the game progressed, Ralph gave the three girls a thorough lesson
in the game of baseball. Mercyville held their lead until the ninth
inning, when Elmhurst pushed a run across the plate.

Doris could see Bert Cramer wave to his field captain from the
bench. The boy ran over to Bert and held a hurried conference with
him. Elmhurst had runners on first and third base with one man out.
Mercyville was worried.

The Mercyville team captain, acting upon Bert’s instructions, called
for a new pitcher.

“That’s smart baseball,” Ralph said. “We have a right-handed batter
next, and so Mercyville is putting in a right-handed pitcher.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Jean asked.

Ralph chuckled. “There is a theory that a right-handed batter has
trouble getting a hit off a right-handed pitcher.”

The new Mercyville pitcher struck the first batter out. A groan went up
from the bleachers. Most of the spectators were rooting for Elmhurst.
And the last batter of all hit an easy grounder to the second baseman.
The game was over, and Mercyville had beaten Elmhurst, two to one.

Ralph and the girls made their way down through the crowd to the field,
where Tommy was standing beating his hand into his mitt dejectedly.

“You pitched a _whale_ of a game, Tommy,” Ralph said, holding out his
hand. “There’s no reason to feel bad. Your whole team looked good.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said sadly. “Boy, I never thought we could hold them.
But when we came so close, it sort of hurt to lose.”

Ralph smiled. “I know, old man. Their generalship beat you. Their
players aren’t any better, but that boy who manages the team knows a
thing or two about the game.”

Tommy grinned wryly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “My pal!”

Bert Cramer trotted across the field. He held out his hand to Tommy.
“That was some game!” he cried. “You had us really worried.”

“You were swell today,” Tommy said heartily.

Bert turned around and saw Doris. “Gee, I didn’t know _you_ were here,”
he exclaimed.

“This is my sister, Jean, and her fiance, Ralph MacRae,” Doris said.

Bert shook hands with Ralph. “I’m glad to meet you,” he said.

“And Mother said you were to come to dinner,” Doris continued, coloring
slightly.

Bert smiled at Doris. “I’m glad your _mother_ wants me to come,” he
said softly.

Doris blushed fiery red. “We all want you to come,” she said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Tommy cried.

“We’d better be getting home,” Jean said. “Ralph still has his bags
in the car.” She turned and smiled as Ralph took her arm. “Anyone who
wants to come with us, come along. There’s lots of room.”

“We have to clean up,” Tommy said. “Bert and I’ll come along later.”

As soon as they had showered and changed into fresh clothes, Tommy and
Bert headed for the Craig farmhouse in Bert’s second-hand Ford. They
rehashed the day’s game, play by play.

“Jeepers, I sure wish I had a car of my own!” Tommy sighed. “How did
you get yours?”

Bert shifted gears and guided the car towards the outskirts of town. “I
just saved up,” he explained. “You see, there are lots of jobs they pay
you for at Mercyville. The dirtier the job, the more money it pays. I
wanted my own car, so I took on a lot of hard jobs. It’s not so much of
a car, but it gets me there.”

“I guess it’s pretty neat in Mercyville,” Tommy said. “You guys always
seem to have a swell time.”

The older boy nodded. “It’s a wonderful place,” he agreed. “I get sort
of lonely, sometimes,” he added. “I guess it teaches you to get along
with people, though. Maybe when you don’t have anyone you can call your
very own, you realize how important people can be.”

Tommy nodded in silent agreement.

Bert hesitated. Then he said, “Tommy, you don’t ... mind about my
seeing Doris, do you?”

Tommy made a face. “Why in heck should _I_ mind? Except I kind of wish
you’d hang around with us guys for a while. Buzzy Hancock and Billy
Ellis and the whole gang are swell guys ... you’d like ’em, I know.”

Bert laughed. “I know I’ll like ’em, Tommy, if you say so. But Doris
is a swell girl. I like her a lot. And we’ll be going off to school
together, and I sort of want to get acquainted.”

Tommy shrugged. “Sisters can be a pain in the neck, sometimes,” he said.

“So can brothers,” Bert answered. “I know. I’ve got hundreds of ’em.”

Tommy laughed. “Doris is a good kid. I’m really glad you like her.
Maybe I was just scared you were going to be ... mushy, or something,
about her.”

Bert threw back his head and laughed heartily.

“All the time guys think they have to get sentimental about girls. Boy,
a fellow with three sisters knows better!” Tommy cried. “Catch _me_
ever getting moony about a girl!”

“Well, we’ll see,” Bert said. “In two or three years you may change
your mind.”

The family was out on the front porch when Tommy and Bert arrived. Mrs.
Craig had brought out a tray with lemonade and cookies, and everyone
was enjoying refreshments in the heat of the late summer afternoon.

“Enter the victor and the vanquished,” Mr. Craig said, as the two boys
came up on the porch. “I hear it was a good game.”

“One of the toughest we ever played, sir,” Bert said.

“Yeah, me too,” Tommy agreed. “Hey, look! Food!” He went over to the
tray and poured two glasses of lemonade. “Here you go, Bert.”

“Ralph has been explaining the game to us,” Doris said pertly. “Kit and
I didn’t exactly know what was going on till he and Jean got there.”

Tommy looked up in disgust. “You might have asked me! I’d have told you
anything you wanted to know.”

“Did you bring your violin, Bert?” Kit asked.

Bert smiled up at her. “Now, just by coincidence, I have it in the car.”

Mrs. Craig got up and picked up the tray. “My goodness, let the poor
boy rest! He’s been busy today.”

“After dinner, Kit,” Bert promised. “If Doris wants to play.”

Mr. Craig cleared his throat. “If you young people will scatter, I have
some things I want to talk over with Jean and Ralph. Seems there’s
going to be a wedding around here soon, and there are some details to
discuss.”

Tommy jumped up. “Come on, Bert. I want to take Jack down to the hen
house and show him my new improvements. You can have a look, too.”

Kit shook her head. “For heaven’s sake, Tommy. Bert is Doris’s guest
tonight!” She got up. “I’m going to write a letter. Holler when you
want me to help you with dinner, Mother.”

“Aw, jeepers!” Tommy cried. “Come on, Jack. Let’s go!” He dashed down
the steps, Jack in tow.

“Not so fast!” Mrs. Craig called. “Please be careful, Jack. Remember,
this is your first day up.”

“If you would like to walk down and see the river, it’s just a little
way,” Doris said to Bert.

He smiled and jumped up. “Let’s go,” he said.

They wandered down to the banks of the stream which was flowing with
midsummer laziness. “This is our scenic high spot,” Doris explained. “I
love it here. Whenever anything goes wrong or I feel out of sorts, I
come down here to think things out.”

Bert smiled slowly. “Yes, I can imagine,” he said. “It’s beautiful and
restful.”

“For instance, I figured out about trying for the scholarship down here
by the water. Somehow things seem clearer here.”

“What do you mean? Were you scared about trying out?” Bert asked.

Doris smiled shyly. “Well, not exactly about trying out. But I was
mixed up about whether or not I wanted to leave home, even. I don’t
seem to have the spunk that Jean and Kit have. They always go out
chasing things. I always kind of liked it at home.”

Bert was a born leader. It was hard for him to understand the fears and
doubts which plague the shy personality. But he had learned how real
these fears and doubts can be when he had worked with younger and shyer
boys at Mercyville.

“But you did decide to try out,” he said, underlining her small triumph
over her shyness.

She nodded slowly. “I wanted to go so badly,” she said softly.

“I’m glad you did,” Bert whispered. “I love it when you play. It’s like
heaven, somehow.” He blushed. “That’s a dopey way to say it, I guess,”
he added. “We’ll have a super time down there, I’ll bet.”

Hand in hand, they walked around the farm. Bert saw Tommy’s chicken
house and the berry patches and the small woods which stood near the
road. Finally, almost reluctantly, they turned towards the big house.

Dinner was almost ready when they returned. Bert stopped at the car
and took out his violin. “We can have a concert after dinner, if they
like,” he said.

Doris disappeared into the kitchen to help with the dinner, and Bert
took his violin into the parlor. As he laid it on the piano, Mr. Craig
came into the room.

“Well, hello there, Bert,” he said. “So we’re having a concert after
dinner.”

“If you like, sir,” Bert answered.

“Fine, fine,” Mr. Craig said, rubbing his hands.

“Mr. Craig, there is something I would like to tell you,” Bert said
hesitantly.

“Why, go right ahead,” Mr. Craig said.

Bert bent over the piano keys and touched a note lovingly. “I guess
you’ll think this is sort of funny to talk about. It’s about Doris.”

“What’s on your mind, son?” Mr. Craig said gently.

Bert reddened. “I think Doris is a wonderful girl,” he said in a low
voice. “We’re sort of pals, I mean. I like having her for a friend.”

Mr. Craig smiled. “Why, that’s fine, Bert. I’m glad you do. I’m rather
fond of her, myself.”

“But you don’t understand, sir,” Bert continued. “And I want to be sure
you _do_ understand how I feel. When I’m with her, I don’t exactly feel
like a friend, if you know what I mean.” He hit another key. “She makes
me feel as if I’d sort of ... like to take care of her and protect her
from things.”

Mr. Craig’s first impulse was to chuckle. But he stopped himself and
said seriously, “I’m quite glad that you’re so fond of Doris, son. You
see, she’s a great one for hiding her light under a barrel. Someone
near her own age can make her see how foolish some of her fears are
better than her parents can.”

Bert nodded solemnly.

“But as for you,” Mr. Craig said. “I would say that you have pretty
normal feelings for a boy your age. After all, a seventeen-year-old
boy is getting to be pretty grown up. Naturally he finds some girls
attractive.”

“I’m almost eighteen, Mr. Craig,” Bert said. “I just wanted to be sure
you didn’t mind. I mean, with my background, and everything.”

Mr. Craig frowned. “Certainly you’re not ashamed of your background!”

“Oh, no, sir! The only life I remember is life at Mercyville. I could
never be ashamed of living there!”

“Then I guess we don’t need to talk about it any more, son,” Mr. Craig
said.

“Thank you, Mr. Craig,” Bert said. “I’m glad what I said made you sort
of angry. A lot of people don’t ... don’t really understand.”

After dinner, Doris and Bert played together in the parlor. Mr. and
Mrs. Craig sat hand in hand on the porch swing listening to the strains
of a Haydn sonata.

“It seems to me that I’ve been giving advice to a lot of young
men today,” Mr. Craig commented dryly. “Ralph, about to step into
matrimony, and Bert, about to hurl himself into his first romance....”

“Then Bert is really interested in Doris?” Mrs. Craig asked.

Mr. Craig chuckled a little. “So he tells me.”

Mrs. Craig grinned. “He certainly is a forthright young man. I like
him.”

“Yes, so do I. Well, I hope our young friends will profit by what I had
to offer in the way of advice. I never felt less qualified in my life.”

Mrs. Craig squeezed his hand. “I think you’re the most qualified
husband in the world!”




20. Sweethearts’ Dance


The ballroom of the Elmhurst Inn was lit by Japanese lanterns which
threw soft colored lights down on the dancers, who were swaying
dreamily to the music of a local dance band.

The strains of “Stardust” filled the room, and Jean squeezed Ralph’s
hand tenderly. “This is perfect,” she whispered. “This is as close to
heaven as I’ve ever been!”

Ralph looked down at the girl who was soon to be his wife. Her short
dark curls were caught in a white and silver ribbon which matched the
net evening frock she wore. Her large dark eyes were sparkling with
happiness. Ralph held her close to him.

“This is our party, darling,” he whispered. “The whole town ... the
whole world ... is dancing because we are in love.”

“The whole world except Kit and Frank,” Jean giggled. “Goodness, I hope
his train is on time.”

“It is,” Ralph laughed. “Kit checked a half dozen times. They should be
here in another fifteen minutes.”

They drifted past the bandstand, and the band leader saluted them with
his baton.

“Somehow, everything seems so complete,” Jean said. “Look at Father and
Mother over there. You’d think this was _their_ wedding party instead
of ours.”

Ralph glanced over and smiled. Mr. and Mrs. Craig were lost in each
other. Ralph was suddenly struck by a happy thought. Much as the Craigs
loved their family, they had had no time for just each other in many,
many years. As their children were growing older and preparing to leave
home, Mr. and Mrs. Craig seemed to be looking forward eagerly to the
day when they could have each other for themselves, alone.

“They’re a handsome couple,” Ralph said. “One reason I picked you, of
course. A look at your mother convinced me I’d have a beautiful wife
forever.”

“You’re an idiot!” Jean cried as the music came to an end.

“Not at all. That’s very important,” Ralph teased. “Come on, let’s get
some punch.”

Eileen and Dr. Benson were at the punch bowl. Jean grinned at them and
introduced Gerald to Ralph.

The red-haired doctor studied Ralph for a moment. “So _you’re_ the man
our patient Griselda waited for. I’m glad to meet you, MacRae.” He held
out his hand.

Ralph grabbed it and shook it warmly. “It’s a pleasure,” he said. “I’ve
heard all about you.”

Gerald reddened. “You _are_ a forgiving man, then.”

Ralph slipped an arm around Jean. “She wrote me all about how you
drilled her so well before her exams.”

Eileen put down her cup of punch. “It’s a marvelous party,” she said.

“Yes, it is,” Gerald agreed. “And we appreciate it more than we can
tell you. On account of the fact that circumstances are holding up
our own wedding, we enjoy ourselves cutting in on other people’s
celebrations.”

“Eileen!” Jean cried. “You didn’t tell me!”

“She’s spoke fer,” Gerald laughed. “And if I keep up the payments, she
can even keep the ring.”

“You goose!” Eileen cried, holding out her hand. “Do you like it?”

Jean examined the ring with squeals of enthusiasm. “Oh, golly,” she
sighed. “It’s perfect! But what on earth will Dr. Barsch do ... if you
get married?”

“That’s one of the circumstances,” Gerald said. “I’ve a feeling he’d
ride me out of town on a rail if I snatched away his second Supervisor
of Nurses.”

The music started again, and Ralph set down his cup. “May I borrow your
fiancee for a dance, doctor?”

Gerald smiled and nodded. “Take care of her. She’s all I have.” He held
out his arms to Jean and whisked her away.

“Happy?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes!” she cried. “I can’t really believe that we’re actually going
to be married!”

Gerald smiled wistfully. “He’s a very nice fellow,” he said. “Even now
I have a little twinge of conscience when I think about trying to cut
in on him.” He laughed. “Guys like me are always the worst. If anyone
tried to date Eileen, now, I’d really be sore.”

“She’s a wonderful girl,” Jean agreed. “And I don’t think you have to
worry.”

“It still seems too good to be true,” Gerald said.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I acted like such a jerk when I first came. Things
are different with everyone now. I’ve got my girl, and I’ve made good
friends with the doctors at the clinic. You know, I graduate, myself,
pretty soon.”

“That’s right,” Jean said. “Your internship is almost over.”

Gerald fought back a lump in his throat. “But the thing that gets me is
that they want me to stay on. Dr. Barsch, Ted Loring ... Daley, Jenkins
... all of them. Jean, you know, this is the first time in my life I
realize that people like me just because of myself.”

Jean squeezed his hand in quick sympathy.

Gerald cleared his throat. “And that poses a problem,” he said in a
very business-like voice. “Dr. Barsch is trying to convince me to go
into surgery. I’ve always been interested in psychiatry. But I think
I’ll stay on for a while and see what surgery is all about. After all,
they’re sort of my family, now. And I’ve been away from home too long.”

Jean was so touched that tears came to her eyes.

“Hey, here’s your sister, Kit,” Gerald said gruffly.

Jean slipped away from him. “And Frank Howard. Come and meet him.”

Kit and Frank were standing in the doorway, arm in arm.

“Is this my party, Jean?” Frank teased as she and Gerald came over to
them.

“No, sir, it’s mine,” Jean retorted. “But come in, anyway, and have a
good time.”

Frank smiled down at Kit. “It’s not for us,” he said with mock
wistfulness. “Shall we stay? Or shall we get up our own party?”

Kit sighed with pretended disappointment. “I guess we’ll have to make
the best of it. Let’s stay. It’s the only dance band in town.”

“If you two idiots will stop talking for a minute, I’d like Frank to
meet Dr. Gerald Benson,” Jean cried.

The two men shook hands. Before they could get past the door, Eileen
and Ralph joined them. Frank and Ralph shook hands.

“Where’re your mother and father, Kit?” Frank asked. “Oh, I see them.”
The small crowd made its way across the dance floor to Mr. and Mrs.
Craig. Mrs. Craig took both of Frank’s hands in hers and kissed him on
the cheek. Mr. Craig shook his hand.

“This is what you call the grand entrance,” Mr. Craig said. “I hope you
don’t mind a little dancing after a day of traveling.”

“Not at all,” Frank said, slipping his arm around Kit’s waist. “It’s a
fine idea.”

“You’ve got to meet someone else,” Kit whispered as they danced off.
“I haven’t told you yet about Doris’s young man, have I?”

Frank looked at her in astonishment. “Doris!” he exclaimed. “That
child!”

“Doris is exactly the age I was when I met you,” Kit reminded him.

“Oh, my goodness!” Frank cried. “I forgot what an old woman you are,
now.”

“Well, anyhow,” Kit said, ignoring his remark, “they should be around
here somewhere.” She scanned the ballroom. “I don’t see them, but
they’ll turn up.”

After intermission, the band leader played _Stardust_ again for Jean
and Ralph. Then, when the music ended, he held up his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I have a real surprise for you
tonight. Miss Craig has requested that my boys move over and make room
for a duet. Now, these are real musicians. They play classics. And
they’ve a number they want to play for the bride tonight.”

Everyone applauded as Doris and Bert came to the stage and prepared to
play. In the hush that preceded their opening notes, the outer door to
the ballroom banged open. Everyone turned around to look.

“I might have known,” Jean said under her breath to Ralph. “It’s Ted
and Ethel. He’s making his usual entrance.”

Ethel, blushing furiously, turned to her husband, who was blithely
walking towards Jean and Ralph. “I _told_ you there was something going
on!” she hissed.

Ted glanced up at the stage and saw Doris and Bert waiting for the
confusion to stop. “I guess I did it again,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Hush, everyone,” he said in an ineffectual effort to quiet the crowd.

“Hush, yourself,” Ethel commanded in indignation. She turned to Jean.
“How on earth can I apologize?”

Jean laughed. “Don’t try, Ethel,” she giggled. “Someday Ted is going to
make a quiet entrance somewhere, and we’ll all pass out from the shock.”

The guests quieted down, and Doris and Bert began to play. Ralph
touched Jean’s arm and beckoned to her to follow him to the porch. They
stepped through the French windows and stood listening to the music.
Ralph put his arm around Jean and she put her head on his shoulder.
With reverence he touched a curl on the top of her head. “It wasn’t
very polite to sneak away from the concert, was it?” he whispered in
her ear.

Jean shook her head. “No,” she whispered back, “it wasn’t.”

“But I wanted to hear them play just with you,” Ralph continued in a
whisper.

Jean reached up and squeezed his hand. The soft strains of the violin
drifted out to the porch and engulfed them. They listened breathlessly
till the last notes died away. Then Ralph leaned over and whispered,
“Miss Craig, I love you!”




21. Summer’s End


Mrs. Craig surveyed the chaotic parlor, sighed and sat down. She picked
up a small black notebook and a pencil and started to write headings on
separate pages. The first page was devoted to Kit and the things she
would need before she returned to Hope College. The second page she
labeled “Doris.” Then, with a nostalgic sigh, she headed the third page
“Jean.” She knew that plans for the wedding would fill the rest of the
book.

Two trunks stood near the door to the hall. Two trunks which would
go in almost opposite directions. Mrs. Craig smiled as she looked at
the two piles of clothes to be packed. One could tell the differences
between Kit and Doris just from looking at those piles.

Kit’s was the larger. Her wardrobe was gay, collegiate and nearly
complete. Doris’s was much more utilitarian, but at the same time, more
feminine. Mrs. Craig shook herself out of her contemplations and got
up. Going to the foot of the stairs, she called:

“Kit! Doris! Girls, please come down. Your things are all over the
parlor waiting to be packed!”

Arm in arm, Kit and Doris appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Coming, Mother,” Kit called. They scrambled down the stairs.

“Golly, I don’t know where the summer’s gone,” Kit protested. “Here
it is August, and Frank has to go back home, and I have to go back to
school, and it’s almost time for Jean’s wedding ... and, oh, Mother!”
she threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Why does she have to go so
far away!”

“Never mind, dear,” Mrs. Craig said.

Doris looked at the mess in the parlor and shook her head. “How’re we
going to get everything in?”

Kit shrugged. “We always do,” she said philosophically. “Come on. Let’s
get to work.”

As they packed, Mrs. Craig jotted down the errands which must be done
in the remaining two months before the wedding. Invitations, lists
of bridesmaids and ushers, parties, flowers and decorations for the
house....

“Somehow, it hardly seems worthwhile _going_ to school till after the
wedding,” Kit said. “I’ll no sooner get settled than I’ll have to turn
around and come back.”

“Me, too,” said Doris.

“Is Bert going to drive you down?” Kit asked nonchalantly.

“Great heavens!” Mrs. Craig exclaimed.

“Don’t be silly,” Doris said. “He isn’t even going to drive. He’s
afraid to take the car on such a long trip. It’s pretty old, you know.”

“With Jean working so hard,” Mrs. Craig commented, “I’ll have to do all
this myself.”

“Well, certainly Becky will help you, Mother,” Kit said.

“Of course she will,” Mrs. Craig said. “But you know Becky. You ask her
for an inch, and she gives a mile. Land, she’s busy enough, these days.”

“By the way, where are all the men in this house?” Doris asked.

“Oh, around,” Kit said, jamming her sweaters into a trunk drawer.

“Tommy and Jack are down with the chickens,” Mrs. Craig said. “Your
father and Frank are downtown. Ralph is upstairs waiting for Jean to
call from the hospital. They have an appointment with Dr. Fisher this
afternoon.”

“Dr. who?” Kit asked. “What for?”

“The Reverend Dr. Fisher,” Doris said. “The man who’s going to _marry_
them.”

“Oh,” said Kit. She started to hang her skirts on the trunk’s hangers.
“Getting married is an awful nuisance,” she said.

“Why, Kit!” Mrs. Craig cried.

Kit smiled. “I guess I’ll have to elope. Think of all the trouble I’ll
save you.”

“You can finish your packing, young lady, and stop talking nonsense if
you want to save me trouble,” Mrs. Craig said.

As Kit finished packing her trunk, Frank poked his head in the doorway.
“Hi,” he called. “Anyone need any help?”

“Nope,” Doris said. “We’re all through.”

Mrs. Craig laughed helplessly. “Why don’t you young people run along? I
want to concentrate.”

Frank grinned. “Come on, Kit. Let’s take a walk.”

“Just a minute,” Kit said. “I’ll meet you down by the mailbox.”

Kit and Doris walked out into the hall.

“Before I go out, Doris, I want to give you something,” Kit said,
handing her a small, ugly doll.

Doris took it and looked at it.

“It’s some sort of good luck charm that Uncle Bart and I found in that
mummy we were examining together. You know, when I first went up to
Hope. I want you to have it.”

Doris’s fingers closed around the doll. “Gee, thanks, Kit,” she said.

“You know why, I guess,” Kit said. “I kept it with me all year at
school. And it’s pretty exciting, going away to school for the first
time. I guess you know how proud we all are of you.” Kit looked down.
“Jean and I ... well, we always have a lot of things going. And of
course now Jean has graduated, and that was pretty exciting. But
neither of us ever did anything like winning an honest-to-goodness
scholarship. Sometimes I think people get the wrong impression. They
always think we can do things. But it’s _you_ who can _really_ do
_wonderful_ things.”

Doris hugged her sister. “Kit, you shouldn’t talk like that,” she
cried. “All in the world I ever want is to live up to you!”

“You’ll do better than that,” Kit said. “And another thing. It was mean
of me to tease you about Bert. He’s one of the nicest boys I’ve ever
met.”

Doris looked down. “Thanks, Kit,” she said softly. “I think so, too.”

Kit turned and ran out of the front door. Doris watched her as she
waved to Frank and dashed down the long driveway.

Frank took her hand, and together they started down towards the river.

“The end of summer,” Kit said moodily. “All year long you live with the
hope of the benevolent season, and then it comes and goes.”

“My goodness, but you sound gloomy today,” Frank said, sitting down on
the bank of the stream.

“Oh, I’m glad to be going back to college, I guess,” Kit said. “Only I
sort of wish this summer hadn’t had such _definite_ results. It makes
me feel all empty inside when I think about going away to Wisconsin
when you’ll be in Washington.”

Frank lifted her hand and studied her palm. “Empty, Kit?” he asked. “It
shouldn’t. You should be fuller than before. Wherever you go, I go,” he
said softly.

Kit threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Frank, think about me all the
time! Sometimes I think I won’t be so lonely if I know you’ll have me
in your thoughts!”

“You know I will, Kit.”

“And next summer will come before we know it,” she said bravely.

Frank nodded. “We’ll both be here for the wedding. And maybe at
Christmas time. Kit, the year will go by before you realize it.”

She nestled in his arms. “Oh, look,” she said. “Here comes Jean. She
must have changed her mind about calling Ralph from the hospital.”

They watched Jean stroll up the driveway. Then they saw Ralph come out
onto the porch. And as they watched, Jean and Ralph ran towards each
other, met, and embraced with the tenderness and ardor of a precious
and invaluable love.




Transcriber’s Note:

Punctuation has been standardised. Hyphenation has been retained as
published in the original publication. Changes have been made as
follows:

  Page 13
    thinking of Jack, the Craig’s _changed to_
    thinking of Jack, the Craigs’

  Page 14
    be at the hopital now _changed to_
    be at the hospital now

  Page 30
    the Craig’s farmhouse _changed to_
    the Craigs’ farmhouse

  Page 43
    choose sodium pentathol _changed to_
    choose sodium pentothal

  Page 58
    Mr. Craig came downtairs _changed to_
    Mr. Craig came downstairs

  Page 64
    The following lines in the original book have been moved
    from the fifth to sixth paragraph:

      minerals have calories. The function of the mineral
      is not to provide body heat.” She flipped a page. “Now

  Page 65
    Sally nooded _changed to_
    Sally nodded

  Page 69
    Dr. Benson pounded his first _changed to_
    Dr. Benson pounded his fist

  Page 90
    a decent meals in months _changed to_
    a decent meal in months

  Page 147
    the tour started for the center of town _changed to_
    the four started for the center of town

  Page 171
    the doorway, She saw Tommy _changed to_
    the doorway, she saw Tommy

  Page 175
    he hold timself _changed to_
    he told himself

  Page 197
    he he exclaimed _changed to_
    he exclaimed

  Page 211
    whispered back, “It wasn’t.” _changed to_
    whispered back, “it wasn’t.”

  Page 215
    in that mummy we were examing _changed to_
    in that mummy we were examining



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEAN CRAIG, GRADUATE NURSE ***


    

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.


START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
    other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
    whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
    of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
    at www.gutenberg.org. If you
    are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
    of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
  
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:

    • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
        the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
        you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
        to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
        agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
        within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
        legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
        payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
        Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
        Literary Archive Foundation.”
    
    • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
        you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
        does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
        License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
        copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
        all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
        works.
    
    • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
        any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
        electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
        receipt of the work.
    
    • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
        distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
    

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.