Nurse in White (14 page)

“Pooh!” scoffed Mary Trent, settling down her empty cup. “Who in her right mind would take on Mrs. Fisher? We kids used to visit her cook on Fridays. She’s from Louisiana and makes cakes that give one thoughts of paradise. Melt in your mouth. Our place joins the Fisher land—oh, nearly a mile over the hill, but we thought nothing of sneaking across lots on Fridays. The old dame got wise to us after a while and set one of the gardeners on us. He made a great hullabaloo while she was within earshot and then filled our arms with fruit and advised us to see him before we staged another raid. She’s
an old pill!” A dreamy look came into her eyes. “Tony’s a peach—or used to be.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s here, Marcy.” And after a moment, “Seen Ann lately? To talk to, I mean.” Ellen was still puzzled over Ann’s whispered request that she keep her fingers crossed.

Marcella laughed. “Ann’s wearing a particularly irritating expression these days—smug and superior, but she won’t talk. North’s on her case days, and she says she never had a more disagreeable patient. I can’t make Ann out. Every afternoon she goes for a walk—alone, mind you, instead of going to the gym as she used to. Yesterday she brought back a briefcase. An errand for Munson, I imagine; but can you feature Ann Murdock running errands for anyone, even a wealthy patient, unless, of course, she expects to get something out of it? But Munson!” Marcella shook her head. “Surely not Munson!”

“No,” Ellen repeated with conviction, “not Munson!”

Ellen was restless after Marcella went downstairs. She went through the ward, eyeing each patient solicitously. Extra beds had been brought in and every one was occupied. Little Angela Dubail had gone on just a week before and a small, be-earringed old lady with pleurisy and a bad knee was in the place she had once occupied. But she was no charity patient, the old lady assured those who would listen. Her son, Michael, was paying good money for her. Now she opened bright dark eyes and stared at Ellen.

“Hist!” she whispered sibilantly. “That hussy down at the end’s a bad ’un. Watch out for her.”

Ellen patted her hand and smiled down at the wrinkled face. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Connors. Just go to sleep and everything will be fine. You’ll soon be better.”

“Better, is it? Not while I hev t’ brethe th’ same dirty air as that one. She’s no good, I tell you.”

Her eyes glared at the last bed, whose occupant seemed sleeping quietly except for an occasional cough. Then she jerked to a sitting position and pointed a long bony finger. “There she is, th’ she-devil! I’ll cut her heart out!” Her hoarse voice was still low but any minute Ellen knew she might become loud and violent. She punched the button at the head of her bed and Mary Trent hurried in.

“Call Dr. Braddock while I quiet her,” Ellen whispered.

However, it wasn’t Braddock who answered the summons, but Cyrus Dent, his arm still in a sling. Ellen wondered what he thought he could do with one arm. But it seemed Mrs. Connors had great respect for the male sex and lay down at his suggestion.

“Give her a hypo,” he prescribed as Ellen settled the old woman beneath the blankets. “This isn’t any too good for her.” He slipped a thermometer beneath her tongue and at the sly look
in her eyes, he warned, “Don’t you dare bite that or—” He didn’t finish, just warned her with his eyes. She didn’t bite it and after a moment he reported that it wasn’t temperature so much as temperament. “The lady wants attention, I’m thinking, Nightingale,” he grinned, and Ellen’s heart suddenly warmed at the old teasing tone.

“She seems to have it in for Tessie Sheehan, down at the end. Poor girl, I’m sure she’s anything but a hussy.” Ellen lingered beside the bed until Mrs. Connors slept. Dr. Dent followed her out into the corridor. “How’s the shoulder?” Ellen asked, with kindly solicitude.

“Coming along slowly. It’s a heck of a time to be laid up, with all this sickness. Braddock’s just plain worn out and I told him I’d take his place from midnight on. How’s life using you these days—or nights?” His tone was light, friendly, and Ellen felt somewhat lost. Here she had been building up to a frigid hauteur when next she should meet him, and he was as friendly and noncombative as a two-year-old. “What do you hear from Terry Morley?” he asked suddenly and Ellen caught her breath.

“O-oh,” she said, “you startled me. I had forgotten for a moment that—”

“I was here?” he laughed.

“Oh, I’m tired, I guess. My thoughts were miles away. Terry Morley? I don’t know. I haven’t heard.”

“You haven’t? I’m surprised. His sister thinks he is quite impressed with your ability and, er, pulchritude.”

“His sister? Oh, Mrs. Langham. I had forgotten,”
He must think I’m either a moron or an awful liar,
she thought to herself.
“How is she and how is Lady Violet?”

“Wonderful!” he said heartily. “By the way, how was it that they didn’t know you donated your blood first—days before mine was used?”

“I haven’t the least idea. Lady Violet wasn’t particularly interested in me—or perhaps she forgot; but it doesn’t matter. I don’t mind. Is—is Mr. Morley still in Boston?” she asked after a moment.

“He was the last I heard. But no doubt he’ll be back soon. Good-looking chap, isn’t he?”

“Wonderful!” Ellen was suddenly enthusiastic. “And nice, too. So thoughtful and—and pleasant.”

“Yeah! It sort of runs in the family—that sweet disposition. Grand to have a good disposition!” Abruptly Dr. Dent turned and strode away.

It wasn’t until the next afternoon that Ellen heard just why Mrs. Connors had such a hatred for Tessie Sheehan. Marcella Harris, who knew everything, told her that Michael Connors was sweet on Tessie and the old lady was afraid she would lose his pay envelope. Michael was a good son—a dutiful son. Mother Connors had enjoyed the spending of most of Michael’s weekly wage for many years. Michael had never noticed girls until little Tessie Sheehan moved into their block.

Apparently, it was love at first sight for both of them. Inez Dostevski brought wild tales of what was going on to Michael’s mother and the old woman set about putting a stop to all that sort of nonsense.

Ellen saw Inez as she was leaving the next evening and thought she knew the cause of Mrs. Connors’s enmity. Mike was with her—a worried, browbeaten look on his broad, ruddy face. Inez, clinging to his arm
, was comforting him with soft cl
uckings of the tongue, her black eyes covetous. Ellen watched them out of sight. So that was it! It was none of her business, of course, only as it affected the welfare of a patient. Well, this did. Tessie Sheehan looked beaten—lost.

“Good evening, Mrs. Connors!” Ellen greeted the sick woman when she entered the ward. “So that was your son, Michael? A fine, strapping young fellow, isn’t he? How is it, I wonder, that good, dependable men like Mike so often fall in love with girls like the one he was with. I understand they are engaged and that you don’t approve. Well, Mrs. Connors, I can’t altogether blame you.”

Mrs. Connors glared at her. “Mike ain’t engaged to that girl. He don’t even like her.”

“He doesn’t! You must be mistaken—they—well, she certainly likes him. Too bad, isn’t it? Maybe you can do a little matchmaking there, Mrs. Connors. Mothers are clever in picking out the proper wives for their boys, I understand. You like that girl, don’t you? I’m afraid I ought not to have said what I did that—”

“Like Inez Dostevski? Oh, she’s well enough as far as that goes. She’s a good worker, Inez is, but she’s years older ’n Mike.” She frowned darkly and muttered to herself.

“Yes, I could see that, but nevertheless I could see that she is crazy about him. Oh, well, probably Mike can take care of himself. Only, Mrs. Connors—” Ellen’s voice became confidential “—if you don’t want that Inez for a daughter-in-law, better watch out. If ever I saw a predatory look in a female’s eyes, it was in hers as they left this room.”

“An’ what kind of a look might that be, nurse?” Mrs. Connors asked, worriedly.

“Oh, just that she’d like to have him for a husband, or, maybe just for her beau. Now, how do you feel this evening? I hope you are lots better and will soon be able to go home and look afte
r
Mike yourself. What you need is some strong, pleasant young girl to help you. I’ll speak to your son. Maybe he could prevail upon some girl to come in and stay with you until your knee is entirely well.”

“We ain’t millionaires, nurse,” the old woman muttered.

“Oh, it won’t cost much—maybe a couple of dollars a day.”

“A couple of—”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Connors. You will be here for another week at least. Maybe when you get home you will have a daughter and won’t need a maid.” Ellen smiled down at her. She could see the idea seeping through her brain. She didn’t know that Mike had used that same argument when his mother hurt her knee. Tessie had insisted that his mother live with them so she could look after her.

“So that’s her game,” she muttered as Ellen walked on down the ward. Scarcely an hour later, Ellen answered her impatient summons.

“How’s she gettin’ along, nurse?” She pointed a long bony finger at the bed occupied by Tessie Sheehan, but now her eyes were merely curious—no longer belligerent.

“She’s been pretty sick, but she’s a strong young thing and will be out before we know it. Such a sweet girl with a true Irish sense of humor. A little like you, Mrs. Connors. Honest and generous and well—just grand! I like the Irish—they’re so straight and—well, aboveboard. Did you ever know an Irishman do a mean, underhanded trick, Mrs. Connors?”

The black eyes twinkled. “You’ve a drop o’ Irish blood in yer own veins I’m thinkin’, nurse. Yis, we’re all alike—us Irish. Give that little hussy down there my regards, an’ tell her I’ll have me son, Michael, bring her some oranges tomorrah.”

Ellen moved to the bed of little Tessie Sheehan and delivered her message. Tessie gasped and her eyes, so dull and hopeless, suddenly brightened. She smiled at the be-earringed old woman and weakly lifted a hand in salute.

“So you see, Tessie, you must hurry and get well. Maybe you can beat Mrs. Connors home and have dinner all ready so that she’ll think you’re the best housekeeper in the world.”

“You knew?” Tessie’s black-lashed blue eyes glowed into Ellen’s. “But Inez was so horrid—”

“Forget Inez, my dear. She’s completely out of the picture and you see that she stays out. Hear me?”

“I will!” Tessie’s small chin was
outthrust
and she clenched her fist. “If Mike’s mother’s on our side I’m not afraid of anything Inez can do. Oh, you’re a darling, Miss Gaylord! I don’t wonder everyone loves you. I do, myself,” she added, shyly.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It
was a week later
that Ann Murdock came into Ellen’s room just as that young lady was dressing to go out. Always lovely, Ann was particularly radiant this afternoon, with the hard brilliance of polished metal. She flung herself down on Ellen’s bed with a sigh of smug satisfaction.

“Well, old dear, the deed is done—I landed him. He was wary at first and inclined to be suspicious; but the bait was tempting—so completely honest—so subtly naive and alluring, you know, that he nibbled, then bit, then gulped and presto! I had him hooked!” Ann made all the gestures of an angler trying to capture a particularly wily game fish.

Ellen laughed in spite of herself, then gasped as Ann held up her left hand on which glittered a diamond of impressive size. “But—but Ann—you’re not engaged!”

“Nothing else but, darling,” she said complaisantly. “You see, I was taking no chances of his slipping off my hook. Breach of promise isn’t a pretty combination of words.”

“Don’t be vulgar, Ann,” Ellen exclaimed impatiently. “I hate it.” An unpleasant thought seeped through the amazement. “I don’t think I understand about this,” she said after
a moment. “You surely can’t be in love with Munson.”

“Munson!” shrieked Ann, sitting up abruptly. “Are you crazy? Think I’d ever marry that old fossil, Ellen Gaylord?”

“Well, you said—then who—”

“Why, Jim Ellis, to be sure,” Ann said airily.

“Jim Ellis! And who in the world may Jim Ellis be? I never heard of him.”

“You have, too. Jim Ellis is old Munson’s nephew and heir. He’s here in the paper mill while old Bill is laid up. They hate each other like poison, but each finds the other necessary to the success of the paper business. Jim is sales manager. His offices are in New York. Oh, New York!” Ann rolled her eyes ecstatically.

“I think I do remember a nephew somewhere,” Ellen said. “Sort of a strange—I don’t think I ever saw him, though,” she finished hastily.

“Oh, as to that, you haven’t missed much, my lamb,” Ann grinned, then wrinkled her nose childishly. “A poor thing, but mine own, don’t you know. He’s not much to look at, but thank heaven, he’s tall and isn’t addicted to spats—the rest I intend to improve or else—” She paused and watched the light play on the stone in her ring. “What’s more to the point, my child, he’s got what it takes—money!”

“If you are trying to shock me, Ann Murdock—” Ellen began.

“And why should I try to shock you, sweetheart?” Ann purred.

“—it’s quite useless. I’m not a bit shocked. You’re probably madly in love with this man and are just putting on an act for my benefit.”

Ann stared at her friend for a moment with hard, bright eyes, then her face softened. “Oh, Jim’s not half-bad, Ellen, that
is—well, he’s a whole lot better than some men I could mention. I imagine he’ll never let me down. He’s a good sort—an understanding soul and seems quite mad about me.” She took off her ring and slipped it into the pocket of the knitted dress she was wearing.

“But Ann, do you—you do love him, don’t you?” Ellen’s voice was worried.

“Love him?” Ellen had a sudden picture of Ann at Christmas when news reached her of Tip Waring’s engagement to another girl. Ann, her face crumpled, all the hardness gone. “But Ellen, I like Tip—rather a lot!” Ann had been different since that time. Ellen saw that she was much thinner, too, and inclined to nervousness. “I don’t believe in love,” Ann said with a brittle laugh.

“Oh, Ann!”

“We’re keeping it dark until Uncle Bill—don’t you just love that ‘uncle,’ Ellen—until old Bill Munson gets out of here. We don’t want to stage a scene in this place. Jim’s going to tell him on the day we leave for New York. Oh, New York!” she sighed again.

“And when are you going to—”

Ann laughed. “Still the same old Stiff-in-the-morals, aren’t you?” she jeered. “I intend making an honest man of him, my child, never fear. We already have the license, just in case. Oh, everything is going to be according to Hoyle. I won’t go until after the wedding, I promise.”

“Miss Forsyth will be annoyed—”

Ann laughed again. “A lot I care for old Ag or any of the rest of the vegetables in this place. If she hadn’t been so soft it never would have happened,” she said fiercely. “But no, she sent me to Munson—the rest was just fate. Don’t look so bewildered, infant. And haven’t you forgotten something? Aren’t you glad for me? Aren’t you going to wish me happiness?” she finished, her eyes mocking.

Ellen sat down on the bed beside her visitor and searched the black-lashed green eyes beneath the mass of wavy red hair. After a moment in which she read nothing but mockery, she slowly shook her head. “I hope you’ll be happy, Ann,” she said softly as she kissed her, “but I wish you wouldn’t—”

Ann drew away from that kiss. “Happy?” she repeated slowly, then sat erect, her chin outthrust. “Of course I’ll be happy—I intend to be. But listen, not one word of this to a soul. Old Bill won’t be discharged for another two weeks and it will be a month at least before we can get out of this burg.”

The girls parted. After a while of troubled thought, Ellen let the matter slip completely from her mind. Dr. Braddock was down with pneumonia and the hospital walked on tiptoe, for the fat little house physician was universally beloved. Miss Forsyth went about with eyes from which the light had departed. Mac growled his orders and grew thin and
hollow-eyed
from loss of sleep. Fielding and Dent were on duty twenty-four hours of the day and every nurse slipped about on silent, white-shod feet, valiantly fighting with the little doctor who was alike their source of comfort and amusement.

It was the fifth day of Dr. Braddock’s illness. He lay in an oxygen tent, apparently fighting a losing battle. MacGowan walked the corridor outside and Ellen, who passed him there, saw his lips move and knew that he prayed to his stern, just, Scottish Presbyterian God to spare his colleague’s life. A block away, Emilie, Dr. Braddock’s spoiled, selfish, neurotic wife, eluded her nurse and wandered away to be found two hours later in the river.

It was days after the doctor was convalescent before he was told of the tragedy. And it wasn’t until he was able to sit up, irritable and demanding, that his nurse, Mary Burns, who never missed a trick but who was splendid in pneumonia cases, told the other nurses in strictest confidence that his first conscious words were, “Agatha—darling!”

“And if I dared I’d tell the poor thing,” she told them. “To think of their loving each other all these years! I think it’s beautiful. I suppose, though, it’s a little soon to—”

Ann laughed. “Emilie’s as dead as she ever will be.”

No one said anything. One by one they left the room and Ann turned to Ellen with a crooked grin.

“They think I’m a hussy, don’t they, angel?”

“It’s your own fault if they do, Ann,” Ellen reminded her. “You’ve completely sold yourself to them in that role and you can’t blame them for believing it’s the real you.”

“And one might as well have the game as the name, eh? I intend being hard and selfish and acquisitive from now on. God helps those who help themselves, I’ve found, and the devil makes a monkey out of the hindmost. No one is going to make a monkey out of me—ever again.”

A maid came to Ellen’s door and knocked softly.

“Is Miss Murdock—oh, there’s a gentleman downstairs. He asked for you. Miss Murdock. Shall I tell him you’ll be down?”

“I’ll tell him myself, thanks, Jean. Come on, Ellen. It’s Jim. I want you to meet him. He’s no great beauty and he’s not so young, but at that he’s not so bad and all in all—”

“Oh, shut up, Ann,” Ellen said sharply, “You make me sick. I feel like forbidding the banns or something.”

They entered the long reception room side by side. A tall man was striding up and down—his mouth set in a grim, stubborn line. Ann paused just inside the door—gasped, then gave a shrill little cry.

“Tip!”

Ellen felt she knew the reason for Ann’s contemplated precipitate marriage. With a muttered exclamation, the man rushed to meet her and she was in his arms, sobbing wildly. Ellen stood for a moment utterly bewildered, then slipped quietly away. What had Ann done!

Ann didn’t come to dinner and Ellen didn’t see her again that night. It was Marcella Harris who brought her news of the collapse of Ann.

“Maybe you don’t think there was the very deuce to pay,” Marcella said, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Where on earth did Ann ever meet that Ellis creature in the first place? He doesn’t live here. This Tip and she have always been sweethearts, haven’t they? But wasn’t there something about her girl friend cutting her out, or what was it? Do you know, Ellen?”

Ellen looked blank.

“Then, why did she want this Ellis? Money, I suppose.”

“If you ask me, I’d say Ann Murdock is getting just what she deserves,” little Mary Trent said sharply. “She’s just about the freshest thing I’ve ever seen, and hard-boiled as they come.”

Remembering Ann’s face on Christmas Eve, Ellen didn’t agree. “Ann’s manner is just protective coloring, girls,” she told them. “Actually she’s terribly sensitive, with a bad inferiority complex. She’s hard and pert to cover it up.”

“Maybe,” Marcella conceded, “but it was a crazy thing for her to do. Get engaged on impulse like that and to a man of his type. She can’t possibly know him and if he’s anything like his uncle—God help her!”

“Crazy? Sure it was.” Mary Trent had never liked Ann and had no sympathy for her now. “How does Forsyth feel about it? Did you hear?”

“No. And what’s more, we won’t hear. Lately Agatha and Ann have been just like that.” Marcella held up her hand, the first two fingers pressed close together. “And knowing Ann, it looks mighty fishy to me.”

“Where is Ann now?” Ellen asked. “Not on duty, of course.”

“I’ll say she’s not. She went completely haywire all over the house and this Tip got scared and rang for Mrs. Drake who promptly called a doctor—MacGowan went, and they put her to bed over in the room Dent had. Fielding and he haven’t been having much use for beds lately. She was raving the last I knew and when the Ellis man came and demanded he be allowed to see her, Ann gave one look at him and fainted again. Fine mess, if you ask me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ellen said. “I wonder if they will let me see her. I wish—”

“You needn’t waste any sympathy on Ann Murdock,” Marcella advised crisply. “I reckon she got what she set out to get—a rich husband, and if you want my opinion, Anthony Ware will be lots better off without her, for she’s always creating some sort of disturbance.”

“Just the same, I’m sorry,” Ellen repeated.

“Well, I guess you’re the only one who is,” Marcella insisted. “Even Angus called her a ‘jillet,’ full of ‘joukery-pawkery’—at least that’s what it sounded like and I imagine they’re not exactly terms of affectionate regard. They sound pretty awful to me. You knew he refused to work with her lately, didn’t you? On operations, I mean. Sort of got in his hair, no doubt.”

Ellen didn’t know and wondered if MacGowan had discovered about the symphony tickets. Poor Ann! She wished she could go to her now. She would surely see her before she left for her four days respite at Deacon’s Landing.

It was shortly before dinner next afternoon that Tip Waring waited for her in the long reception room.

“You are Ann’s best friend, Miss Gaylord—she talked a lot about you. Tell me about this man she has mixed herself up with. How did it happen?”

“Why, you must know how and why it happened much better than I do, Mr. Waring—Tip,” Ellen told him. “Were you and Ann ever actually engaged?”

“Not officially, if that’s what you mean. We’ve always gone around together and both of us understood—at least I did—that someday when I got through law school we’d marry. I was all for marrying first. I never wanted Ann to become a nurse in the first place. We could have made a go of it somehow. But Ann felt she would only hinder me and in order not to be a burden any longer on her family, decided to enter a training school where she could at least earn her ‘keep’ as she called it. She used to say she’d make a much better wife and mother, too, with that extra training. Oh, Ellen, she’s such a grand girl! Brave and smiling when I know she’d much rather hide off in a corner somewhere and bawl. You see, I know Ann. I guess you do, too.”

“Yes,” Ellen said soberly. “I think I do.”

“Well I finished law school and then the man who had promised to take me in with him died suddenly. I tried a dozen different offices with no luck. At last I decided to go it alone and work at odd jobs until things picked up. Well—” his face flushed and his eyes shifted in embarrassment “—I went to Marge Horton’s father’s mill to help with the auditing. It was just before Christmas. I hate to tell this, Miss—Ellen. It sounds sort of caddish but it’s the truth. I shall always feel that she engineered the whole thing. Why, Lord only knows. Surely I’m no great catch for any girl to lose her head over. Anyway—oh, skip it. First thing I knew, Marge was telling the family that we were engaged, and the old folks were making a fuss over me and Marge was crying and laughing. From that time on I tried to get out of it. I guess I’m no gentleman, Ellen. I didn’t want Marge. And then Ann returned all my letters unopened. I was frantic. I even came here to see her but she refused to see me. Did you know that?

“When the news of her engagement to this Ellis man came I told Marge plainly that I was through. I didn’t care what scandal developed. I was going to see Ann and tell her the rights of the whole affair. Ellen, she looks terrible. She’s sick!”

“I know. Tip. I think Ann was dreadfully hurt when she heard that you were marrying her best friend. I know she hasn’t been the same since. Tip, you can’t let her go on with this marriage. You must do something.”