Authors: Peggy Gaddis
Mrs. Barton clung to her hand for a moment, looking up, tears swimming in her eyes.
“
Don
’
t let them come back. They mustn
’
t know I
’
ve been crying,
”
she pleaded.
“
Tell them—oh, tell them I am taking a nap before supper. But don
’
t let them come back, please.
”
“
Of course not, if you
’
d rather they didn
’
t,
”
Hilary said.
“
Would you like a maid to unpack for you?
”
Mrs. Barton looked honestly startled.
“
Land no!
”
she protested.
“
I
’
ve never had anybody unpack for me in my life except at Jill
’
s, and her maids are so—well, snooty! I
’
d much rather do it for myself.
”
“
Well, if any of the maids here tries to
‘
snoot
’
you, you let me know, won
’
t you?
”
Hilary smiled hearteningly.
“
We don
’
t allow that! We want our guests to be happy and contented, as well as comfortable.
”
Mrs. Barton managed a smile which was faintly damp around the edges.
“
You
’
re mighty nice. Do you work here all the time?
”
she asked hopefully.
“
All the time, and the little button right here will turn the light on over your door. And when I see that light on, I promise you I
’
ll come running!
”
“
That
’
s comforting to know
,”
Mrs. Barton confessed, and the smile now was a little more convincing.
Hilary returned the smile and went out.
Chapter Six
Dr. Marsden
came from his office, saw Hilary and called to her. She followed him back into his office and stood waiting.
“
Sit down, Miss Westbrook,
”
he ordered curtly, and Hilary obeyed him.
“
Have you ever done any work in geriatrics, Miss Westbrook? Gerontology?
”
“
You mean in the diseases of the aged? No, Doctor.
”
“
Then I
’
m wondering whether you are going to be happy here, Miss Westbrook.
”
Hilary squared her shoulders and her chin came up.
“
Are you asking for my resignation, Doctor?
”
she asked coolly.
“
Not at all, Miss Westbrook.
”
His tone was equally cool.
“
You
’
re a competent nurse, I
’
m quite sure. It
’
s just that geriatrics requires a rather specialized study. I
’
m wondering if perhaps you aren
’
t wasted here, since very few of our patients require anything but supervisory care. And of course the most important part of that care is that they not be coddled. It tends to create self-pity, which is an evil disease in itself, one that doesn
’
t respond to treatment very readily.
”
Hilary studied him for a moment, her chin still tilted, her brown eyes measuring.
“
I
’
m quite sure that you are saying all this because of something I
’
ve done or said—
”
she began.
“
Not at all,
”
he interrupted her brusquely.
“
It
’
s just that this is the first time I
’
ve been able to discuss the job with you. The clinic keeps me pretty busy and, of course, no doctor likes to waste his time and whatever skill he may have in treating the entirely imaginary ills and ailments of a lot of elderly people who have very little to amuse themselves with except the belief that they are ill.
”
Hilary said deliberately,
“
Then if you feel that way about your work here, Doctor, it seems to me you should be the one to resign.
”
For a moment there was a glint of anger in his blue eyes, and they became steely gray rather than blue.
“
On the contrary, Miss Westbrook, I feel that my time here is very well spent, since there are forty elderly people whom I can study, and whose needs I may be able to diagnose, so that later I can be helpful to people who are unable to afford such a luxurious
‘
nursing home
’
as the Retirement Club,
”
he told her.
“
Does that answer your question?
”
“
I wasn
’
t asking a question, Doctor, not of
you.
I wouldn
’
t dare, because you
’
re a doctor,
”
she told him sweetly.
Now there was no mistaking his angry resentment. For a moment gray-blue eyes met brown ones, and neither would lower.
“
Very commendable of you, I
’
m sure,
”
he said dryly at last.
“
Of course you are very well-trained and very competent and the Club is very fortunate in having you here. But I must insist that you do not coddle the guests.
”
“
I
’
m afraid I
’
m not quite certain just what you mean by
‘
coddle
’
, Doctor,
”
she said quietly, her eyes still angry.
“
I think you do,
”
he answered.
“
I mean, they must not be encouraged to feel sorry for themselves.
”
“
Why should they? They couldn
’
t possibly have a more beautiful or luxurious place to live. The ones who should feel sorry for themselves are the ones in sub-standard nursing homes, living on Old Age Assistance checks that don
’
t allow them a nickel for a plug of tobacco or a box of snuff; those in the County Home, or crowded in with young relatives who don
’
t want them and have no room for them.
”
She had spoken more warmly than she had meant and, suddenly aware of that, she broke off swiftly and color poured into her face.
“
I
’
m sorry. I didn
’
t mean to be rude.
”
He was studying her with renewed interest, obviously not at all resentful of her emphatic speech.
“
I couldn
’
t agree with you more,
”
he admitted frankly.
“
One of the things that interests me about this place is just how much of the froth and frivolity is really necessary for the health and well-being of the patients—guests, I meant.
”
He gave her a grin that was surprisingly boyish and wry.
“
Mr. Ramsey insists we never speak of them as patients, or even refer to them as old or even elderly. They are Senior Citizens and honored guests. I suppose he
’
s impressed that on you?
”
“
I
’
ve barely met him,
”
Hilary admitted, and found herself, to her secret surprise, not disliking this man so much after
all.
“
But Middy—I mean Mrs. Middleton—suggested I could get my mouth washed out with soap and water if I so much as breathed the word
‘
old
’
out loud.
”
Dr. Marsden laughed, and it was a very pleasant sound.
“
Middy
’
s a great one, isn
’
t she?
”
he said.
“
The place couldn
’
t operate without her. It would come apart at the seams. Though that, too, is something we mustn
’
t say out loud, since Mr. Ramsey is quite sure he
is
the one holding it together.
”
And then, as though suddenly realizing how unprofessional and unethical any criticism of the Administrator must sound, he ended the interview by standing up.
“
That will be all for now, Miss Westbrook.
”
He was once more the brisk doctor in charge.
“
I
’
ll have Mrs. Barton brought in for a complete physical tomorrow, though from the medical history her family furnished when they placed her application I
’
d say she was completely sound for one of her age.
”
Hilary said politely,
“
Yes, Doctor. What time shall I bring her in?
”
“
Oh, that won
’
t be necessary,
”
he countered.
“
One of the practical nurses can look after her. She isn
’
t exclusively your patient, remember, so you mustn
’
t feel responsible for her.
”
Hilary colored slightly.
“
I
’
m sorry. It
’
s just that she seems very timid and unaccustomed to strangers. I thought perhaps since she seems to like me
...
”
she defended herself.
“
But you see, Miss Westbrook, that
’
s one of the things we must fight against,
”
he pointed out.
“
We want our pa
—
guests to be self-reliant, able to stand on their own feet, not to depend on any one person among the staff.
”
Hilary set her teeth hard, counted mentally to ten, managed a faint smile and a colorless voice in which she said,
“
Yes, Doctor.
”
The door closed behind her and she stood in the lobby, her hands tightly clenched, her eyes closed, while she swallowed her resentment at Dr. Marsden
’
s manner and his ideas.
A gay young voice behind her said,
“
Let
’
s see the bruises.
”
Startled, she turned to face a very pretty girl, hatless, blonde and blue
-
eyed and laughing.
“
I beg your pardon?
”
Hilary said.
The girl thrust a hand through Hilary
’
s arm and drew her down the corridor to the club room, where the waitresses were serving tea.
“
I saw you come out of Stu
’
s office, and you looked as if
you
’
d like to slug somebody, so I knew Stu had been up to his old tricks—bullying new nurses,
”
said the girl cheerfully, and led the way to a deep sofa in a far corner.
“
Here, sit down while I wangle us some tea and sandwiches.
”
Hilary sat down, wondering about the girl, who was obviously well-known and quite popular. She was greeted with smiles on all sides as she made her way to the buffet, selected a tray, a tea-pot, cups and saucers, and a plate of sandwiches and one of little cakes. She came back to Hilary, placed the tray carefully on the glass-topped coffee-table in front of them, and leaned back, shrugging out of her cashmere coat as she did so.
“
There, now we
’
re all cozy, and you can tell me what made Stu mad at you. I can
’
t imagine; you
’
re-so very pretty. But since I have my eye on Stu for myself, I
’
m glad you
’
re mad at him,
”
she rattled on cheerfully, as she poured tea, added lemon, selected a sandwich and leaned back.
“
Oh, I almost forgot; I
’
m Angela Ramsey. And you
’
re Hilary Westbrook. Ethel at the switchboard told me.
”
Hilary accepted the tea, selected a sandwich and smiled at the girl, who was as friendly, as lighthearted and as uninhibited as a cocker-spaniel.
“
Ramsey?
”
she repeated, and Angela nodded, her shoulder length blonde curls swaying with the movement.
“
That big handsome brute who is at the moment charming all the twittering old gals is my pop,
”
she said. And together they watched Drew as he moved about the room, pausing to chat, to laugh, to exert his considerable charm on the old women, who were obviously delighted at his attention.
“
Isn
’
t he
something
?
”
mused Angela, half-way between amusement and affection.
“
Nobody in the world could ever convince Pop that any woman between sixteen and ninety wouldn
’
t grovel at his feet if he smiled prettily at them. But at that, he
’
s not a bad egg; and about ninety per cent of the time, he
’
s right. He
’
s the only livin
’
soul that can get a giggle out of the Duchess—and if you know the Duchess.
”
Hilary, vastly entertained and liking the girl better every moment, laughed.
“
We
’
ve met, the Duchess and I,
”
she admitted cautiously.
Angela gave her a commiserating smile.
“
And did you tell her who your mother and father, and
their
mother and father, and
their
mother and father were? I mean to say, did you go ancestor chasing with her? It
’
s her favorite sport.
”
Hilary laughed.
“
I
’
m afraid we didn
’
t get to that,
”
she admitted.
“
She was too angry about her breakfast. She did tell me, though, that I
’
d better make up my mind to get along with her, because she just about ran things here, and she added darkly that she wasn
’
t easy to get along with.
”
Angela chuckled.
“
The understatement of this or any other century,
”
she confided.
“
I
’
m convinced the only reason Pop lets her stay here is that she owns a piece of the joint.
”
Hilary looked her bewilderment, and Angela
’
s blue eyes danced.
“
Meaning, in words of one syllable, that she has money invested here,
”
she explained kindly.
“
Oh, Pop never told me. But I know he had the dickens of a time raising the money to build the place up to its present stage of perfection. And nobody would put up with the Duchess if they didn
’
t have to. Besides, being such a haughty old gal, with all sorts of fancy
‘
connections
’
, she gives the place tone. And Pop sets a high evaluation on tone.
”
There had been the pleasant clatter of tea-cups, cheerful voices and the tinkling laughter of old people; now suddenly there was a hush. All heads turned toward the door, and Angela grinned wryly.
“
Speak of the devil and there
’
s always a whiff of brimstone,
”
she murmured, and Hilary followed the direction of the blue eyes.
In the centre of the doorway, for all the world like a stage star making her entrance, stood a regally haughty figure: a woman whose thinning white hair had been elaborately coiffed, and who wore an expensive-looking black satin frock, with wisps of exquisite creamy lace at wrists and throat. A wide black velvet band about her throat sought to disguise and uplift sagging lines, and her sharp old eyes scanned the room sternly.
“
I always miss the fanfare of trumpets when she appears,
”
Angela murmured.
“
And I
’
m never quite sure whether we lowly peasants should rise and curtsy, or fall flat on our faces and hide our eyes until she reaches her own table.
”