Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse

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.