Jean Craig,
Graduate Nurse

FALCON

BOOKS

Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse

By Kay Lyttleton

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

OTHER JEAN CRAIG BOOKS

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

Dr. Benson spent long hours in Timmy’s room.

JEAN CRAIG,
GRADUATE NURSE

by KAY LYTTLETON

THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY
CLEVELAND AND NEW YORK

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

WP 8·50

COPYRIGHT 1950
BY THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Contents

JEAN CRAIG,
GRADUATE NURSE

1. Illness Strikes!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Becky?” Mrs. Craig asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They both smiled and nodded as she went upstairs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mrs. Craig knocked softly at the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. A Villain Unmasked

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

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

“All over,” Jack whispered.

Ted nodded. “Does it hurt to talk?”

Jack nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh,” Ted said, nodding his head.

“Mother, my head aches,” Jack moaned.

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

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

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

Mr. and Mrs. Craig both nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How does it work, Ted?” she asked.

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

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

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

“You mean, he dies?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. Fresh as Paint!

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we see him soon?” Buzzy asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Dad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What trip to Washington?” Doris asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Mother....” Doris began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Mother!” he cried. “I thought you’d never get here! Golly, but I’m tired of this room. Not that they haven’t been swell here, though. Dr. Jenkins and Dr. Caulfield from Boston have been here almost all the time. They talked a lot to me.”

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

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

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

He looked up at her. “Huh?” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, gorgeous!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jean stared at her. “Why?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4. Emergency Operation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ever been to the dentist?”

The boy nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It still tickles,” Gene murmured.

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

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

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

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

Jean shuddered at the thought.

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

Jean grinned as she bent over her sketch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But ...” Jean began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, no!” Jean cried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5. April Wedding

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

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

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

The radio forecasts were always the same: showers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ethel nearly collided with Tommy on the stairway.

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

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

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

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

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

Tommy stared at the bridegroom.

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

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

“Huh?” said Tommy.

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

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

Mr. Craig came downstairs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ted glowered. “Sixty-five a month.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6. Dr. Benson Confesses

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about salt?” Hedda asked.

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

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

Eileen nodded. “Very good. Any more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” Jean asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sound so tough,” Jean giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7. Ralph Returns from Europe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s right.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Doris!” Jean cried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8. Jean and Ralph Discuss Their Future

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” she asked.

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

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

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

She nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

Jean nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jean nodded. “Now I begin to see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that is?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I think we ought to set a date.”

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

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

“Right here in Elmhurst,” Jean continued.

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

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

“Only for a little while.”

“Oh, Ralph!” she cried.

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

Jean nodded miserably.

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

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

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

9. Polio Claims a Victim

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take it easy, son,” Ted said.

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

“Will he be crippled?” Sally asked.

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

“Who is he?” Jean asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The small boy let forth a stream of profanity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naw, I gotta pal in Boston.”

“Where’s your home?” Jean asked.

“None ’a’ your business!”

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

The boy swore at Ted.

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

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

“What’s it to yah?” the boy asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Jack,” she said wearily.

“Pretty bad, was he?” Jack asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you drop dead?” he said.

The boy looked around.

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

The boy stared at him.

“I hear you rode a freight into town.”

“Yeah,” the boy admitted.

“So did I. Some fun, eh?”

There was a long pause.

“Who are you?” the boy finally asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“You ’n’ who else?”

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

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

“What’s yours?” Jack snapped.

“Timmy. Timothy Lester.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You in trouble with the cops?”

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

“You ain’t got no relatives? Nobody?”

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

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

“Aw, dry up,” Timmy retorted.

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

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

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

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

Mrs. Craig nodded. “I know, dear.”

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

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

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

10. Kit at the Capital

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

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

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

Frank turned away from the window and laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, maybe,” Leslie said skeptically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you do,” Frank agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kit nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look beautiful,” Kit agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Frank,” Kit said slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

Frank looked away. “Oh,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

11. Kit and Frank

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

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

Helen Smith, too, contributed a paper to the meeting. She spoke, naturally enough, about the Midwestern states in this country. And as she talked, Kit began to realize the important role that the farmer plays. Helen, who had had personal experience in the Four-H Club and whose father had been an active member of the Grange, convinced them all that the problems of the American farmer were everyone’s problems.

For a week, both professors and students lectured, compared notes and discussed historical topics. Kit had no paper to read, but she was chairman of a discussion group which handled the problems of modern France. It was an interesting session and set the stage for another one about modern Germany and the four-power division of that country.

Fortunately, the conference was the last on the schedule. It went on for two days, while students and teachers alike tried to reach some conclusion as to the policies of Russia, France, England and the United States. Discussions became heated, and Kit told Frank afterward that she felt as if she had attended a United Nations conference.

“The United Nations,” Frank said, “is really our last hope, I think.” He was escorting Kit into a famous seafood restaurant on the river, and the odor of fresh fish assailed their nostrils as they climbed the steps up to the second floor.

Kit sat down and waited for Frank to order for them. She gazed wistfully down at the Potomac. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Isn’t that the way people felt about the League of Nations after the last war?”

Frank shook his head. “Last time we weren’t even in on the deal. This time we’re one of the leaders.”

Kit smiled a little. “That sounds a little chauvinistic,” she said. “Flag waving.”

Frank grinned. “I didn’t mean it that way. I suppose you feel more confident when your own country agrees with you.”

Kit shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said wearily. “I was so encouraged to think so many students and professors wanted to get together to talk. But after these two days of endless arguments about the four-power pact and Germany, I feel that we left everything in a hopeless tangle. And if we Americans couldn’t agree about it, how do you suppose the members of the United Nations ever will agree?”

Frank covered his hand with hers. “Because, Kit,” he said seriously, “the member nations agree on the very most important thing of all. They are agreeing to talk instead of to throw bombs. Of course they disagree. And they’ll continue to disagree. But as long as they heave words around instead of exploding atoms, they are exercising their rights as human beings. And human beings who act as human beings should, don’t kill each other.”

Kit nodded. “I agree with that, all right,” she said. “For example, if Jean were here, she could back me up in this. There are huge wars which human beings must fight all the time. I’m a soldier in the front lines. Humans have natural enemies, and I’m constantly plotting and arranging the slaughter of these enemies. Jean and the doctors and the other nurses at the clinic do the same thing.”

“Man is not man’s natural enemy. He must learn this. I don’t care if he’s a German or a Russian or an Australian bushman, it’s his business to get along with his fellow man.”

“That’s fine, but he doesn’t,” Kit said. “Look at the history of this country. Young as we are, we’ve had a war almost every generation.”

“The history of this country is an excellent example of our progress,” Frank said. “Many people think that the tensions which exist between the North and the South today are as strong as those in Lincoln’s day. But no one except downright crackpots would ever suggest going through another Civil War. We talk about our grievances. We don’t shoot about them.”

“That’s right,” Kit agreed.

Frank grinned sheepishly. “I know I’m an idealist,” he said. “But I’ve a hunch that before too long man is going to wake up! Someday he’s going to realize that to ally himself with greed, bad temper and bad will towards other men is to sign a pact with our natural enemies. He might just as well suggest that we turn this world over to destructive insects, infectious diseases and man-eating beasts.”

Kit grinned back at him. “This pompano is delicious, but it’s going to taste like sawdust if we don’t stop this.”

“Okay, Kit,” Frank said.

“Now, then,” Kit continued, “are you coming home with me?”

Frank thought for a moment. “I can come now with you and stay a week or so. Or I can come later in the summer. Suppose I leave it up to you?”

Kit smiled. “Come both times,” she urged.

“You’re a forward minx,” Frank said, laughing. “You know I’d like to, but I can’t. Summertime is our busiest time, and I just can’t get away both times.”

Kit considered his answer for a minute. “Then maybe you’d better come later,” she said. “You might have more time, and I’d be settled at home ... you know, unpacked and everything. Then we would have time to do what we want to.”

Frank nodded. “That might be better.”

They ate their dinner in almost complete silence. It was Kit’s last night in Washington, and neither of them was happy about her leaving.

“What time does your train leave, Kit?” Frank asked after a while.

She shook her head dismally. “Around six in the morning.”

“Then I suppose you won’t want to stay up very late,” he sighed. “I thought we might take a drive out Chevy Chase way. The Maryland countryside is lovely at this time of year.”

“That would be fun,” Kit agreed. “And I don’t mind staying up.”

After dinner, they started their slow drive out to Chevy Chase. Kit gazed longingly at the pretty houses nestled in the rolling hills. She pointed to one colonial house which was nearly obscured from the road by a small woods. “That’s just about perfect, I think,” she sighed.

Frank glanced over at the house. “So that’s what you want for a home.”

Kit nodded. “I think I would like to live outside of Washington.”

“That’s a break for me,” Frank teased. “That means, of course, I can keep my job. In case we decide to be married someday.”

Kit laughed. “Yes, I guess it does. But do you know why I want to live here?”

Frank shook his head. “Tell me, Mr. Bones. Why have you selected Washington, of all places in the country, as the place to settle down?”

Kit grimaced at him. “Because,” she said earnestly, “you can have a farm right here....”

Frank threw one hand up in mock horror. “So you want to be a farmer!”

Kit pursed her lips. “What’s the matter with being a farmer? But that isn’t what I meant, and you know it. I mean, you can live in the country and be quiet and surrounded by the beauties of nature, and still you’re not an hour away from the heart of the nation. Imagine living right in the midst of the most exciting events in the world!”

Frank smiled wryly. “Now who’s being chauvinistic?” he asked.

“You’re being awful!” Kit cried. “I’ll bet you never even bother to go to a Senate hearing or the House ... or anything!”

Frank’s smile faded. “I’ll bet I wish I didn’t have to ... as much as I do. You seem to forget I have Senate committees to report to, to try to get money out of, to high pressure into taking some action so that we all don’t have insect plagues.”

Kit grinned and shook her head. “That was a dumb remark. I’m sorry. But anyhow I think it would be exciting.”

Frank glanced at her. She looked as young as a high school girl. “You’re so young and precious and wonderful, Kit,” he said tenderly, “I don’t know why you bother with an old fogey like me. I’ve almost forgotten how thrilled I was the first time I entered the Senate gallery.”

She laughed. “I guess you are an old fogey. But it’s too late to do anything about it now.”

When they returned from their drive, Frank took her to a small restaurant for dancing and a light snack. As they moved out on the dance floor, Kit sighed.

“Why are you always going away from people?” she asked.

Frank shrugged. “I’m not going any place,” he said, holding out his arms to her. “You are.”

Kit made a face at him as they started to dance. “That’s what I mean, silly. First I had to leave college. You know, you think you’re all set to leave and that you never want to see another classroom or textbook again. But then you do leave, and you just can’t bear it. I mean, leaving Uncle Bart and Aunt Della and Jeannette Flambeau, my roommate, and the whole gang. This time it was a little easier because I knew I was going to come here and see you. But now I have to leave you and the new friends I’ve made here. Then I’ll get home and next fall I’ll have to leave Father and Mother and the family. You’re always leaving someone behind.”

“Or being left behind,” Frank said earnestly. “I don’t want to talk about it any more. It’s not much fun being left. And if I started to tell you how I feel about it, I could easily frighten you.”

Kit hesitated. “All right, Frank,” she said. “I guess I’m terrible, worrying about myself when other people have problems, too.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yep, you’re terrible, all right,” he said. “You make me feel like a man who’s bet his whole life savings on a horse race.”

Kit stared at him. “What?” she asked.

He smiled wistfully. “I’m a grown-up man, Kit,” he said softly. “I’ve been in love ... or thought I was in love ... before. But never like this. You’re such a child, still. You should have lots of men in your life. All I can do is make my bet—that’s my whole heart—and stand by and wait till the race is over.”

Kit smiled slowly. “I hope I’ve been honest with you, Frank,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to think I’ve done anything to hurt you. But of course,” she added, “Ralph must have felt the same way about Jean. And that worked out.”

Frank thought of Jean, the calm, efficient, loyal sister who probably would be marrying Ralph MacRae soon. Then he looked down at Kit, the intense, fiery little girl who was out to reform the world. He was baffled by the comparison, but he realized that the same spark of loyalty which characterized her older sister was burning in Kit’s heart.

12. An All Night Vigil

Kit’s homecoming was almost obscured by a great tragedy which had struck the village of Elmhurst. Although May was not yet over, five cases of polio had been discovered in town, and people were becoming panicky.

The four new cases had been sent to the county isolation ward in a nearby town, but young Timmy Lester stayed at the hospital. His case was much lighter than anyone suspected at first, and he didn’t need therapy which the staff couldn’t supply.

When Kit arrived in Elmhurst, she discovered that all public places had been closed down. No movies were being shown. People were urged to stay away from restaurants and swimming pools. They were even discouraged from having large private parties or picnics.

“It’s really too bad,” Doris confessed to Kit. “And a fine summer vacation you’re going to have in Elmhurst,” she added. “It’s a terrible break for you.”

Kit smiled at her younger sister. “Never mind about me, Doris,” she said. “What about the rest of you? You’ve been in school, too. It’s a shame to ruin your vacation.”

Doris grinned and said, “I suppose you’ll think this is an awful funny thing to say, but I’m not altogether sorry we can’t gather in big groups.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Kit cried.

“Well,” Doris said, “I don’t know if Mother told you, but I’m supposed to try out for a scholarship to Timothy College. It’s a small music school in North Carolina. Well, anyhow, I was petrified about playing in front of a large group. But now because of the polio scare, there will be just two judges who’ll come right here to hear me play. And on our own piano, too. That makes a difference, you know.”

Kit looked at Doris. “Mother did tell me,” she said. “I think it’s absolutely wonderful. But she said you weren’t so keen about going away.”

Doris looked at her sister shyly. “I wouldn’t tell this to Mother,” she said, “but I want to win that scholarship more than anything else in the world. At first I was frightened at the thought of going away from home. But the idea of being among people who love music, and having music all around me all the time is the most beautiful idea in the whole world!”

Kit hugged her sister. “You’ll win,” she cried confidently. “You’ve got to. No one in town even begins to play as well as you!”

Doris smiled with embarrassment. “You’re nice to say that, Kit,” she said. “Jean said it, too. Of course you’re all prejudiced, but it’s nice to hear, anyway.”

The telephone rang, and Doris ran to answer it. Kit sat down on the window seat and looked out over the wooded patch which stood between the house and the river. Everything was soft and green. The spring rains had made the leaves and grass shine with healthy color. There was not even any dust from the dirt road which cut in front of the Craig farm. She shook her head sadly, as she thought about the families of Elmhurst, huddled together in fear of the dread disease, and she thought how wise they all were to cooperate so well in the attempt to fight it.

Doris came back into the living room and sighed as she sat down. “That was Jean. She’s supposed to be off today, but she has to work. There is another case somewhere out in the country, and they’re short-handed at the hospital.”

Suddenly Kit jumped up and went to the phone. She asked for Jean.

“Look, Jean,” she cried, “isn’t there anything over there that a layman can do? At the switchboard or scrubbing floors or anything?”

Jean hesitated. “I don’t know, Kit,” she answered. “I can ask Dr. Barsch.”

“You haven’t been home in over a week,” Kit reminded her. “I’ll bet no one has. At least I could sit with a patient and holler for help if they needed a nurse so that someone could go to bed.”

“That’s an idea,” Jean said. “Why don’t you come over?”

When Kit reached the clinic, Jean and Dr. Barsch were waiting for her on the second floor.

“You wouldn’t think five cases of polio would make the difference,” Kit said to Jean. “I mean, keep you all so busy.”

Dr. Barsch frowned. “If polio were all we were concerned with, it wouldn’t be quite so bad. It seems we’re having another epidemic, too.”

“Virus pneumonia,” Jean added. “Three new ones today.”

Kit stared at her. “But I thought you got pneumonia in the winter ... or spring, at the latest.”

Dr. Barsch shook his head. “Not this brand. It can come any time.”

Kit looked at the doctor. “Well, put me to work. Anything I’m capable of doing, just let me know.”

The doctor smiled and patted her hand. “It takes misfortune to discover how fine people can be,” he said absently.