Cherry Ames 02 Senior Nurse (13 page)

“Yes, I am sure. It can be done.”
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Dr. Wylie jumped up and began nervously pacing back and forth. The others watched him silently.

Suddenly he wheeled and faced them. “Do you realize what this means? Do you realize that we have a most important military secret on our hands—one that must be guarded with our lives? . . . Fortune, we must report your findings to the government authorities at once!”

“Not yet, Dr. Wylie, not yet!” Dr. Joe shook his head.

“I have some further research work to do on my formula, before it can be turned over to the proper authorities.”

“Whe-e-ew!” Lex exclaimed. “Wouldn’t the enemy love to get his hands on a thing like this!”

“Exactly!” Dr. Wylie agreed. “And that’s not the only thing,” he said, and he looked worried. “There’s another great danger! . . . Thieves! . . . Plain crooks! . . . There’s great wealth in it for whatever pharmaceutical house can manufacture it first—or get sole rights. And there’s big money in it for whoever sells the formula. Such things have been stolen before.” He suddenly glanced at the doors and windows. “You’d better put your stuff in a safer place than this building.” There was a heavy silence. Dr. Wylie cleared his throat and went on reluctantly. “You’re such a careless and absent-minded sort, Fortune, if you don’t mind my saying so.” He frowned at Dr. Joe affectionately. “I’d like
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to ask you several questions. Who else knows about this? Who has keys to Lincoln Hall? Who has keys to this laboratory?”

Only the four present knew about it. A few staff doctors and researchers, the building superintendent and two watchmen, whose reputations all were above reproach, had keys to Lincoln. Only Dr. Joe and Lex had keys to this laboratory.

Dr. Wylie looked at Lex critically. “I don’t believe I’ve met Dr. Upham before this afternoon.” Lex twisted uncomfortably in his chair. Cherry was shocked at Dr. Wylie’s attitude toward Lex. “But surely,” she thought, “Dr. Wylie has no suspicions.” It was only that he himself was so meticulous, and he knew other people were less careful. And he was, Cherry realized, deeply concerned for the safety of this drug.

Dr. Joe explained how Lex happened to be assisting him at his research.

Dr. Wylie said, “So you sought Dr. Fortune out and solicited this job. Why?”

Lex turned red. Cherry wished he realized that Dr. Wylie meant no offense. Lex looked Dr. Wylie firmly in the eye. “Miss Ames is frequently here, and I wanted to see her.”

“Humph! You don’t look like a romantic sort,” Dr. Wylie thought aloud. “Upham, before you asked to
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work with Dr. Fortune, did you know what sort of research he was engaged in?”

Dr. Joe said eagerly, “He knew very specifically. Why, he studied up intensively, so I couldn’t refuse to take him on!” Dr. Joe’s tone was amused and grateful. But the facts evidently made an entirely different impression on Dr. Wylie.

Lex stood up. He was angry. “I don’t like the implications of your remarks, Dr. Wylie,” he said point-blank.

“I’ll give up my key and stop coming here, at once, if Dr. Fortune wishes it.”

“No, no, nothing of the sort,” Dr. Joe said gently. “Sit down, son. You’ve been a great help to me and I need you too much to let you go.”

Both Dr. Wylie and Lex were silenced. Lex sat down again. Then he got up restlessly and busied himself at the long laboratory table. Cherry went over to him and they talked in low voices.

“Are you coming to the Lincoln’s Birthday dance?” she asked him.

“I haven’t the time.”

She said uncertainly, “I didn’t know you’re so busy.” He evaded her eyes. His whole figure, his clenched hands, were tense. “I’m doing some extra work,” he said.

“Heavens, Lex, you’re already working too hard as it is. You’ll kill yourself off, working.”
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He shifted from one foot to the other as if annoyed.

Finally he said, “I’ve got to make some money.”

“Why, what do you want with money?” Cherry teased him.

He looked embarrassed. “You’d be surprised, Cherry.

You really would.”

Well, Lex certainly was behaving strangely, Cherry thought. She decided it was because he was still smarting from Dr. Wylie’s questions. Lex’s pride was his sore point, anyway.

As they were leaving, Dr. Wylie said warningly,

“No one is to talk about this. There must be no knowledge of this secret spread around the hospital!” They all agreed. Yet Cherry was to hear talk about it within the hour. And, curiously enough, it was to come from Mom.

c h a p t e r x

Mom Talks

a strange purplish light filled the yard when Cherry left Dr. Joe’s laboratory. The hospital buildings seemed insubstantial pieces of white paper. The wind had risen. It was going to snow and storm any minute.

She had half an hour before she was due on the ward, and she was passing the residence hall for the first-year and junior students.

“It’s a good chance to see Mildred Burnham,” Cherry thought. “I haven’t even been to see her since she brought me those handkerchiefs. It’s not very nice of me.” But every time she had tried to be “nice” to Mildred, the girl had rebuffed her efforts. The only time Mildred Burnham had been friendly with Cherry was after Cherry had let her severely alone. Perhaps that was the way to treat the perverse girl—backwards! It certainly
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seemed to Cherry that Mildred reacted in reverse. Just then the storm broke, and Cherry ducked into the residence hall.

Mildred was in, studying. She looked at Cherry expressionlessly, but she did say, “Come in.” Cherry went into Mildred’s room and paused at the open textbook. “Hmm, hot wet dressings,” she said.

“I always had trouble with those. I still do.” Mildred looked mollified. “I have a knack with them.

Please sit down, Cherry.”

Cherry sat down, thinking, “So that’s the tack! Treat her like an equal, not an adoptee.” But there was a strained silence.

“How do you like the heavy ward work you’re doing now?” Cherry asked.

“All right. I’m doing all right at it, too,” Mildred added defensively.

There was another of those awful silences. Cherry tried to think of something that would bolster Mildred’s shaky self-assurance, so that she would not have to remain on the defensive. Cherry opened her small purse and took out one of the handkerchiefs Mildred had made for her at Christmas.

“These are my pride and joy,” Cherry said. She spread the handkerchief on the dark wood of the desk so that the drawnwork pattern showed. “Ever so many people have admired them and asked me where I got them.”
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Mildred’s heavy face lost its sullenness. “I like making things, doing practical things. I guess that’s why I like nursing.”

“We’ve got that in common,” Cherry smiled. There followed another dead pause. Finally Mildred said:

“Are you through on the ward for today or do you have to go on now?”

Cherry took the hint and rose. “You’re right, I’m due there any minute. I’ll leave you to your hot wet dressings.”

Mildred closed the door on her. In fact, Mildred virtually put her out.

Cherry hurried over to Spencer Hall. She was so exasperated and discouraged that her interest in Mildred Burnham died. Until today, Cherry had chari-tably assumed that Mildred had some sort of quirk and found personal relations difficult. But it was plain now that Mildred simply did not like her. Well, that was Mildred’s right. Any further attempts to be the interested and guiding senior would amount to forcing herself on Mildred. Cherry ran up the steps of Spencer and a definite decision formed in her mind.

This was the end. She would go to Miss Reamer, explain that she and Mildred could not get along—

being very careful to shed no bad light on the younger girl—and ask to be released from the “adoption.” It was too bad, but it probably was what Mildred herself
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wanted. Until she could find time to see Miss Reamer, she would let Mildred strictly alone. Cherry felt relieved.

It was consoling to be back, even temporarily, on the warm, quiet, well-lighted ward. It was especially consoling to talk to Mom. Cherry had grown attached to the warm-hearted old lady. Mom’s condition, during the time Cherry was on O.R., had gradually become worse. She was more ill now than when Cherry had first met her. But Mom managed to sit up on her elbows and demand of Cherry:

“You look as solemn as an owl and as cross as a bear!

Who bit you?”

Cherry laughed. “You already know who bit me.” Cherry had told Mom about her troubles with Mildred, and now she related the latest fiasco.

“If you ask me,” Mom said, “you could spare a bit more kindness to that girl. There’s plenty of folks like her, but there’s plenty of ways to get around ’em.” She turned over with difficulty as Cherry started to apply a scultetus binder, to support Mom’s wound.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Cherry muttered. She picked up Mom’s chart. “I don’t like it at all.” She would notify the head nurse of Mom’s condition at once.

The doctor would have to be consulted. It crossed her mind that Mom might have to have a second operation.

It not infrequently happened that a stubborn condition
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required a series of operations, spaced far enough apart to let the patient regain strength for each surgery. Only yesterday the graduate nurse on this ward had said something about Mom’s changed condition.

“What else’d you do this afternoon?” Mom asked, making faces as Cherry pressed down the tails of the binder.

“I went to Dr. Joe’s lab. There was a big surgeon there—one who might have to operate on you if you don’t make up your mind to get well.”

“Was that nice young doctor there? What did you all talk about?”

“Lie down now. And stop making such awful faces.

We talked about Dr. Joe’s research.”

“Mmm, must have been interesting. Say, could it’ve been about—I can’t remember the word, can’t remember anything any more—hand me that newspaper, honey—” Cherry found the folded newspaper.

“Here it is.” Mom’s work-worn finger traveled down the news items. “Penicillin. Is that what your Dr. Joe’s making?”

Cherry felt the blood leap to her cheeks. She whirled around. “What ever made you say that?” she demanded.

Mom looked at her in innocent amazement. “I don’t know. I just thought that might be it.” She tugged awkwardly at her curly gray braids. “Don’t know why I thought so. Just thought so.”
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Cherry felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She did not believe in such things as intuition or mental telepathy. And Mom did not think this for no reason at all. She must have heard something to make her think it. Everybody was Mom’s friend, she must hear a lot. Cherry sat down on a chair beside Mom’s bed and said to the old lady gently:

“Try to remember if you heard anyone say anything about penicillin or about Dr. Joe.” Mom furrowed her forehead and bit her lip and tugged hard at her braids. At last she said, “Seems to me—yes, that’s right, all right. Day before yesterday, it was. The maid was telling me she heard that Dr. Joe was making this stuff with the funny name that the government’s making such a to-do about.” Cherry tried to keep her voice steady. “Which maid was that?”

“The little one with the false teeth that don’t fit her.

But she gave up her place here yesterday. She told me about this when she came to say good-by to me. She knows I’m a sort of a nurse.” So the maid had left. Why? Where to? The maid here had been a trustworthy woman, so far as Cherry knew.

Cherry tried to think.

“If the maid worked over here in Spencer, Mom, how did she know what was going on in another building?”

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“She heard. You know how you hear things in a big place like this hospital. The cleaning woman in Lincoln Hall is an old friend of hers.” Cherry knew the cleaning woman, Alma Jarvis.

Mrs. Jarvis had worked in the hospital for twenty years.

She was a widow who had raised four children, single-handed, and she was the soul of discretion. It was not like her to talk. Dr. Joe must have labeled the test tubes with their golden fluids, and carelessly left them in full view! And Mrs. Jarvis probably had recognized the name of the drug that was so publicized, and in her excitement confided the secret to the maid. Cherry frowned. Dr.

Joe should have been more careful.

Mom asked anxiously. “Did I say anything wrong?

What’re you looking so pale about?”

“Listen to me, Mom. What you heard is just gossip.

But it could do a great deal of harm. Promise me you’ll say nothing more on the subject to anyone.” How she wished the cleaning woman had not let this dangerous secret leak out! The whole hospital would be excited about it—would talk of it in public, where anyone could hear!

Mom pressed her finger against her lips, her old eyes dancing. “I just love secrets. Mum’s the word.”

“Mum certainly is the word,” Cherry said seriously. “I know you can keep a secret. I’ve been watching you keep your own worry to yourself, whatever it is.”
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Mom’s face changed expression, and she sighed.

“ ’Tisn’t much of a secret. I just don’t want to worry you, honey, or make you feel bad. You’ve got your work to worry about, and that’s enough.”

“Mom, if there’s anything I can do for you,” Cherry said earnestly, “I wish you’d tell me.”

“I’m going to be perfectly all right, just fine,” Mom said. Her voice shook a little. “Now you run along about your work, child. Shoo!”

Cherry certainly had plenty of work to do on Women’s Surgical Ward in the late afternoon. Besides, she and the other nurses supervised nurse’s aides who “specialed” unconscious patients just brought down from Operating Room. These aides sat beside the patients watching constantly for the pale face and cold perspiration and rapid weak pulse which meant shock—and danger.