Read Online Nurse in White by Lucy Agnes Hancock - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lucy Agnes Hancock
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Dr. MacGowan rumbled, deep in his throat. “I hope the Almighty heard you.” He bowed to the demoralized nurses. “A merry Christmas to you, young ladies, and may you enjoy your dinner without further interruption. Come along, my dear-r-r sir-r-rs, our own, er, beloved, merry-hearted company awaits us.”
Came a breathless stillness as the door closed on the trio. The girls sank into their chair and leaned back—helpless.
“Would one have believed Dr. MacGowan had a sense of humor?” Ellen asked in surprise as she wiped her eyes.
“Ye-ah,” Ann scoffed. “The same brand of humor an inquisitor enjoyed when he shouted ‘off with his head!’ I bet those two lads wish they were somewhere else.”
“Oh, well, they had it coming to them,” someone said as she dipped into her soup.
The dinner was prolonged and hilarious. The girls lingered until a message arrived from Miss Forsyth reminding those who were to sing carols that the time was growing short. She was desirous her distinguished guests should hear them.
Seven-thirty and the night force was back on duty, relieving the skeleton staff who went down thankfully to their own specially prepared dinner. The hospital settled down to its usual night routine. Eight, and the singing began. Visitors went to windows. Patients in private rooms begged that doors and windows be left slightly ajar. Lips smiled that so recently had been twisted in pain and would be all too soon again. Thoughts traveled back over the years to other Christmases. Patients and callers, doctors and nurses on duty, joined in the singing.
Back in Ward L, high up in the rear of the hospital, the sound came but faintly and Ellen sang the first carol with them.
“Holy night—peaceful night
All is calm—all is bright
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child,
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly pe-eace—
Sleep in heavenly peace.”
“Mrs. Slavonski, from her bed at the far end of the ward, called to Ann.
“My man—he giff me more oranges. Beeg bag off them.” She reached beneath the bedclothes and motioned for Ann to pull them out.
“But—but—you know, Mrs.—” began Ann. Selfish old thing! No soul at all. Eat-eat-eat, while Ellen sang like an angel.
“You giff them—all off them. You nice gurls. Take.” She shut her eyes as if the sight was more than she could bear. “Hurry! Take! Giff—giff!”
The bag was heavy but Ann carried it to Ellen. “Well,” she cried as she dumped them on the table before her, “the Christmas spirit has caught Slavonski squarely in her stomach! Two dozen, Ellen!”
“Enough for the whole ward and some for the youngsters in Pediatrics! Good for Slavonski!” applauded Ellen. She went down to the swarthy old woman who was in all probability never to walk again, and told her how happy she had made them.
“Sail right, miss nurse. My man, he breeng ’em—for Crissmas gif to ’ospital ’ere.”
“He did? That was grand of him. You tell him how grateful we are, won’t you?”
The wrinkled brown face on the pillow puckered in a frown of sorrow and disappointment.
“He breeng me notting—notting a-tall. He peeg!” She spit out the last venomously, then sobbed once, retchingly, tears streaming down her leathery cheeks.
“Oh, no, Mrs. Slavonski. Tomorrow is Christmas. He’ll be here bright and early in the morning to see you and to bring you something. You’ll see.” She bent and whispered softly. “Anyway, Santa Claus left something on the tree for you.”
“Non—non—not for me?” The old face twisted painfully.
“You just wait and see. You’re going to have a grand Christmas!”
“I’ll get hold of Tony and see that old Slavonski brings her something tomorrow if he has to bind and gag him and if I have to pay for it myself,” Ellen vowed as she went on down the ward.
“I remember a tree like that, nurse,” Lady X whispered when Ellen stopped at her bed. “Only there were candles on it and I have heard that
Came a breathless stillness as the door closed on the trio. The girls sank into their chair and leaned back—helpless.
“Would one have believed Dr. MacGowan had a sense of humor?” Ellen asked in surprise as she wiped her eyes.
“Ye-ah,” Ann scoffed. “The same brand of humor an inquisitor enjoyed when he shouted ‘off with his head!’ I bet those two lads wish they were somewhere else.”
“Oh, well, they had it coming to them,” someone said as she dipped into her soup.
The dinner was prolonged and hilarious. The girls lingered until a message arrived from Miss Forsyth reminding those who were to sing carols that the time was growing short. She was desirous her distinguished guests should hear them.
Seven-thirty and the night force was back on duty, relieving the skeleton staff who went down thankfully to their own specially prepared dinner. The hospital settled down to its usual night routine. Eight, and the singing began. Visitors went to windows. Patients in private rooms begged that doors and windows be left slightly ajar. Lips smiled that so recently had been twisted in pain and would be all too soon again. Thoughts traveled back over the years to other Christmases. Patients and callers, doctors and nurses on duty, joined in the singing.
Back in Ward L, high up in the rear of the hospital, the sound came but faintly and Ellen sang the first carol with them.
“Holy night—peaceful night
All is calm—all is bright
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child,
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly pe-eace—
Sleep in heavenly peace.”
“Mrs. Slavonski, from her bed at the far end of the ward, called to Ann.
“My man—he giff me more oranges. Beeg bag off them.” She reached beneath the bedclothes and motioned for Ann to pull them out.
“But—but—you know, Mrs.—” began Ann. Selfish old thing! No soul at all. Eat-eat-eat, while Ellen sang like an angel.
“You giff them—all off them. You nice gurls. Take.” She shut her eyes as if the sight was more than she could bear. “Hurry! Take! Giff—giff!”
The bag was heavy but Ann carried it to Ellen. “Well,” she cried as she dumped them on the table before her, “the Christmas spirit has caught Slavonski squarely in her stomach! Two dozen, Ellen!”
“Enough for the whole ward and some for the youngsters in Pediatrics! Good for Slavonski!” applauded Ellen. She went down to the swarthy old woman who was in all probability never to walk again, and told her how happy she had made them.
“Sail right, miss nurse. My man, he breeng ’em—for Crissmas gif to ’ospital ’ere.”
“He did? That was grand of him. You tell him how grateful we are, won’t you?”
The wrinkled brown face on the pillow puckered in a frown of sorrow and disappointment.
“He breeng me notting—notting a-tall. He peeg!” She spit out the last venomously, then sobbed once, retchingly, tears streaming down her leathery cheeks.
“Oh, no, Mrs. Slavonski. Tomorrow is Christmas. He’ll be here bright and early in the morning to see you and to bring you something. You’ll see.” She bent and whispered softly. “Anyway, Santa Claus left something on the tree for you.”
“Non—non—not for me?” The old face twisted painfully.
“You just wait and see. You’re going to have a grand Christmas!”
“I’ll get hold of Tony and see that old Slavonski brings her something tomorrow if he has to bind and gag him and if I have to pay for it myself,” Ellen vowed as she went on down the ward.
“I remember a tree like that, nurse,” Lady X whispered when Ellen stopped at her bed. “Only there were candles on it and I have heard that
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