Read Online Nurse in White by Lucy Agnes Hancock - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lucy Agnes Hancock
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proud of them.”
As a matter of fact, the hospital was proud of its staff, and except for an occasional infringement of its somewhat rigid rules, which were, with reservations, strictly enforced and, also with reservations, almost as strictly adhered to, there was little if any serious complaining. Ann, of course, was a law unto herself and remained so quite miraculously, throughout her years of training. Each entering class of probationers was hand-picked and carefully tested during the three month period before acceptance. Its training school rated high in the profession and to be known as an Anthony Ware graduate meant superiority-plus.
Ellen wondered if Ann would be down to dinner but she was already in the dining room when Ellen entered and except for an excess of color in her cheeks and slightly shadowed eyes, she showed no signs of heartbreak. Ellen was relieved. Her smile was returned by a wry twisting of Ann’s lips.
Dinner that night was a gala affair. Mrs. Drake, the house mother and Ella Poole, the dietitian, had planned an elaborate menu. A two-foot tree centered the long table and red candles in graduating heights marched in single file down opposite sides of the brightly lighted centerpiece. At each place was a red basket filled with homemade candies and a spray of holly lay on each snowy napkin. As they found their places, the nurses stood and cheered the perpetrators and were not in the least surprised when the two young interns appeared in the doorway begging admission.
“Go back to your own celebration,” Mrs. Drake ordered them severely. “We can’t disarrange the table at this late date.
“Heck!” young Fielding cried. “Know who’s dining over there? The president of the board—old Hatchet face! Doc. Angus MacGowan—our dour Scottie—God bless him! An ancient dame by the name of Ware—bad cess to her! And our own beloved, merry-hearted Agatha! Save us, girls! Have a heart! Where’s your boasted Christmas spirit? Where’s—”
Cyrus Dent tried to hush him but it was too late. Suddenly behind them loomed an austere and awe-inspiring quartet. Miss Forsyth and Dr. MacGowan must certainly have heard. Young Fielding tried desperately to make himself invisible.
The twenty or more nurses stood motionless behind their chairs. Their faces were flushed in an effort to suppress their mirth—their eyes straight ahead.
“I want you to see the happy arrangements we have made for the pleasure of our staff at this joyous Christmas season, ladies,” Miss Forsyth said smoothly, her eyes boring into the reddened neck of the talkative intern. “Miss Ware, I’m sure your grandfather would have approved. Records show how much he endeavored to make his staff feel at ease and like one big happy family.” Her icy glance passed over the two young men. “Of course these young men are mere onlookers like ourselves. We still hold to the old traditions—absolutely no friendly relations between male and female members of our staff. I see you agree, Miss Ware—Mrs. Preston?” as the old ladies nodded vigorously, one of Miss Ware’s thin, beringed hands cupping an ear. “Our dinner is being served in the dining room of my suite.” She summoned a smile to include the surgeon and her two guests. “Charming picture, don’t you agree?” then turned and ushered the two old ladies out.
Dr. MacGowan lingered for a moment, his face wearing its usual granite mask. Fielding and Dent stood like two bad boys awaiting a well-merited punishment. Ellen knew a wild desire to laugh. She felt it well up inside her and threaten imminent disgrace. She swallowed hard and caught Ann’s exaggeratedly bland stare. That was too much. She choked, and as if a spring had been released, a shout of laughter went up from the girls around the table. Mrs. Burke and Miss Poole vanished into the kitchen. Fielding tried to sneak past the tall angular surgeon, but he barred the way.
“Thanks for the invocation, er, Fielding,”
As a matter of fact, the hospital was proud of its staff, and except for an occasional infringement of its somewhat rigid rules, which were, with reservations, strictly enforced and, also with reservations, almost as strictly adhered to, there was little if any serious complaining. Ann, of course, was a law unto herself and remained so quite miraculously, throughout her years of training. Each entering class of probationers was hand-picked and carefully tested during the three month period before acceptance. Its training school rated high in the profession and to be known as an Anthony Ware graduate meant superiority-plus.
Ellen wondered if Ann would be down to dinner but she was already in the dining room when Ellen entered and except for an excess of color in her cheeks and slightly shadowed eyes, she showed no signs of heartbreak. Ellen was relieved. Her smile was returned by a wry twisting of Ann’s lips.
Dinner that night was a gala affair. Mrs. Drake, the house mother and Ella Poole, the dietitian, had planned an elaborate menu. A two-foot tree centered the long table and red candles in graduating heights marched in single file down opposite sides of the brightly lighted centerpiece. At each place was a red basket filled with homemade candies and a spray of holly lay on each snowy napkin. As they found their places, the nurses stood and cheered the perpetrators and were not in the least surprised when the two young interns appeared in the doorway begging admission.
“Go back to your own celebration,” Mrs. Drake ordered them severely. “We can’t disarrange the table at this late date.
“Heck!” young Fielding cried. “Know who’s dining over there? The president of the board—old Hatchet face! Doc. Angus MacGowan—our dour Scottie—God bless him! An ancient dame by the name of Ware—bad cess to her! And our own beloved, merry-hearted Agatha! Save us, girls! Have a heart! Where’s your boasted Christmas spirit? Where’s—”
Cyrus Dent tried to hush him but it was too late. Suddenly behind them loomed an austere and awe-inspiring quartet. Miss Forsyth and Dr. MacGowan must certainly have heard. Young Fielding tried desperately to make himself invisible.
The twenty or more nurses stood motionless behind their chairs. Their faces were flushed in an effort to suppress their mirth—their eyes straight ahead.
“I want you to see the happy arrangements we have made for the pleasure of our staff at this joyous Christmas season, ladies,” Miss Forsyth said smoothly, her eyes boring into the reddened neck of the talkative intern. “Miss Ware, I’m sure your grandfather would have approved. Records show how much he endeavored to make his staff feel at ease and like one big happy family.” Her icy glance passed over the two young men. “Of course these young men are mere onlookers like ourselves. We still hold to the old traditions—absolutely no friendly relations between male and female members of our staff. I see you agree, Miss Ware—Mrs. Preston?” as the old ladies nodded vigorously, one of Miss Ware’s thin, beringed hands cupping an ear. “Our dinner is being served in the dining room of my suite.” She summoned a smile to include the surgeon and her two guests. “Charming picture, don’t you agree?” then turned and ushered the two old ladies out.
Dr. MacGowan lingered for a moment, his face wearing its usual granite mask. Fielding and Dent stood like two bad boys awaiting a well-merited punishment. Ellen knew a wild desire to laugh. She felt it well up inside her and threaten imminent disgrace. She swallowed hard and caught Ann’s exaggeratedly bland stare. That was too much. She choked, and as if a spring had been released, a shout of laughter went up from the girls around the table. Mrs. Burke and Miss Poole vanished into the kitchen. Fielding tried to sneak past the tall angular surgeon, but he barred the way.
“Thanks for the invocation, er, Fielding,”
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