Nurse in White Read Free Page A

no miraculous power. If he was vouchsafed more than average success in his operations, it was due to his steady nerves, clear brain and perfect coordination—together with the help of God. As a Scot and a strict Presbyterian, he was sure of divine aid in his work simply because he never began an operation without beseeching that aid. Ann called him a simple soul with a one-track mind—surgery; but while the chief-of-staff was a successful surgeon, the knife was always to him the last resort—to be used only when other means failed. If he considered an operation necessary, an operation was performed; but if in his opinion surgery was either useless or unnecessary, no power on earth could make him operate. There were doctors who called him pigheaded; specialists who sneered at what they dubbed his “know-it-all” attitude, urging the advancement of science as paramount to the loss of a few years from a life, of even that life itself; patients who begged him to take a chance, willing to trust to his magic fingers; but he would not be swerved from his course.
    Anthony Ware was proud of him. Other and larger hospitals made him flattering offers, all of which were declined with little or no thanks. When his seven years were up he was going back to Edinburgh to remain two, five, perhaps ten years. He had learned much in America and would take that knowledge back to Scotland.
    October—a crisp, frosty October morning with the sun turning the shabby little chapel into a glowing , colorful jewel. Ellen, who was on night duty, felt the quietness and beauty flow over her like a soothing bath. All too soon it was over and she walked along the lower hall to the side entrance on her way to the nurses’ home. Ann Murdock fell into step.
    “What did you think of the pair of them, Ellen?” she asked. “Not bad, eh what? Tall, blond and mischievous looks—somehow familiar. I’ve been puzzling where I’ve seen him. He looks interesting anyway—not the usual pansy type Anthony Ware has been drawing. The redhead isn’t so impossible, either. I quite enjoyed chapel this morning—usually it’s just one long-drawn-out yam. Guess I’ll have to give them the once-over, angel. Want to date ’em with me? Next week we go on days for a change. Seems to me we get more than our share of night work. You may like it, but it cramps my style. What fun can one have in an afternoon? ‘When twilight draws her mystic curtain, revelry begins for certain.’ Tip used to say it and it’s true, I’ve found. My dear stepmama changed one word in it. She insisted it was deviltry that began with nightfall. Well, sometimes the two words are synonymous, but what of it? Will you come, Angel?”
    Ellen felt suddenly deflated. Was that all Ann got out of chapel service? She felt Ann’s eyes on her and refrained from showing her feelings. Anyway, she ought to know Ann—know her proneness to exaggerate and to depict herself in the character of blasé woman of the world.
    “Absolutely not, my child,” she answered loftily. “I’ve all the troubles I can handle right now without adding to them. Go play with your little friends yourself, darling, but count me out.”
    Ann laughed. “I know,” she jeered. “You’re afraid of being found out. Oh, come on, Stiff-in-the-morals, I’ll see you through.”
    “Some other time, Ann,” Ellen put her off. “I think it would have to be something more thrilling than a new intern to make me risk losing my cap. Were they in chapel? I didn’t notice.”
    “You wouldn’t!” Ann exclaimed in disgust. “Why do you still stick to that ‘holy orders’ attitude, Ellen? Our job has to deal with bodies—very human, very earthly bodies, not with people’s souls, if any. I can’t for the life of me get any deep religious fervor from rubbing Old Phlebitis up in Male Medic or in listening to the temperamental outpourings of Old Vitriol down in Hades.”
    Ellen smiled good-naturedly. “You’re funny, Ann. You’re