curiously, between eager spoonfuls of soup.
“ A practical nurse, ” Hilary answered, laughing a little.
Mrs. Barton nodded, and Hilary saw that she had lost interest in everything but the contents of her tray. So she said good night and left the room, to hunt up the P.N. who should have seen the tiny red light and answered it, and to tell her about the tray that would have to be removed when Mrs. Barton had finished.
Chapter Eight
In mid-morning the following day, Ethel the switchboard operator called to her as she was crossing the lobby.
“ Dr. Marsden would like to see you, if you aren ’ t too busy, Miss Westbrook, ” said Ethel, and winked. “ You ’ d better not be! I think he ’ s in a jam. ”
“ Fancy that! ” murmured Hilary wickedly, and Ethel chuckled.
Hilary opened the door into Dr. Marsden ’ s office and said politely, “ You wanted to see me, Doctor? ”
Dr. Marsden ran his fingers through his hair in an almost boyish gesture of harassment.
“I’d like to ask a favor, Miss ‘ Westbrook, ” he answered. “ My clinic nurse is unable to get here today, and if you aren ’ t too busy elsewhere, I wondered if you could help me. ”
“ I ’ d love to, Doctor, ” Hilary answered with such sincere warmth that Dr. Marsden looked up at her and chuckled.
“ The frou-frou getting you down, Nurse? ” he asked, so completely to her surprise that Hilary felt the color rise in her cheeks even as she laughed.
“ Well, taking care of our—guests who really require very little in the way of nursing doesn ’ t give one much scope, does it? ” she asked, walking with him across his office and through the door that led to the clinic.
“ If you ’ re going to stay on here, Nurse—and I hope you are—you ’ ll have to take up gerontology, ” he said lightly. “ A fascinating study, by the way. It begins with the study of apes. ”
Hilary blinked in astonishment, and once more he laughed.
“ They age so much faster than human beings, ” he explained. “ An ape, at thirteen, is the equivalent of a man at seventy— ”
“ The equivalent? ” Hilary objected.
“ In the process of aging, I meant, of course, ” Dr. Marsden told her, a twinkle in his blue eyes. He held the door into the clinic open for her and followed her through.
The room was already well-filled, despite the raw, cold rain that was falling in a slow, dispiriting drizzle. There were mothers with fretful babies, expectant mothers, awkward - looking men with enormous bandages to indicate injured limbs ...
They all looked up expectantly as Dr. Marsden and Hilary came in.
“ Good morning, ” said Dr. Marsden. “ This is Miss Westbrook, who ’ s going to assist me today. Miss Hazelton is not coming in. So you ’ ll have to give Miss Westbrook your names, and then give her time to find your charts, before she can help you. ”
Hilary sent a warm, friendly smile around the group, as Dr. Marsden went back to his office.
“ Let ’ s see now, ” said Hilary, “ who ’ s first? ”
“ I reckon I am miss. ” A worn-looking woman in a too-thin coat, a ragged scarf about her head, rose with a baby in her arms, a tiny, waxen-faced thing that twisted Hilary ’ s heart with pity. “ It ’ s Samuel here ’ s the patient. Seems like we just can ’ t get him to eat, and he cries ’ bout all the time. ”
The baby twisted in her arms, wailing fretfully, and Hilary ’ s experienced ears scarcely needed the chart which she located as the woman gave her name to understand that the child ’ s trouble was chiefly malnutrition. The poor mite was starving to death! She caught her thoughts back, and ushered the woman into Dr. Marsden ’ s treatment room.
She worked happily throughout the morning; happily, because here she felt that her nursing skill, her ability, were needed and being turned toward the purpose for which she had worked hard to acquire them.
She lost track of time. Gradually the group thinned out,
“ A practical nurse, ” Hilary answered, laughing a little.
Mrs. Barton nodded, and Hilary saw that she had lost interest in everything but the contents of her tray. So she said good night and left the room, to hunt up the P.N. who should have seen the tiny red light and answered it, and to tell her about the tray that would have to be removed when Mrs. Barton had finished.
Chapter Eight
In mid-morning the following day, Ethel the switchboard operator called to her as she was crossing the lobby.
“ Dr. Marsden would like to see you, if you aren ’ t too busy, Miss Westbrook, ” said Ethel, and winked. “ You ’ d better not be! I think he ’ s in a jam. ”
“ Fancy that! ” murmured Hilary wickedly, and Ethel chuckled.
Hilary opened the door into Dr. Marsden ’ s office and said politely, “ You wanted to see me, Doctor? ”
Dr. Marsden ran his fingers through his hair in an almost boyish gesture of harassment.
“I’d like to ask a favor, Miss ‘ Westbrook, ” he answered. “ My clinic nurse is unable to get here today, and if you aren ’ t too busy elsewhere, I wondered if you could help me. ”
“ I ’ d love to, Doctor, ” Hilary answered with such sincere warmth that Dr. Marsden looked up at her and chuckled.
“ The frou-frou getting you down, Nurse? ” he asked, so completely to her surprise that Hilary felt the color rise in her cheeks even as she laughed.
“ Well, taking care of our—guests who really require very little in the way of nursing doesn ’ t give one much scope, does it? ” she asked, walking with him across his office and through the door that led to the clinic.
“ If you ’ re going to stay on here, Nurse—and I hope you are—you ’ ll have to take up gerontology, ” he said lightly. “ A fascinating study, by the way. It begins with the study of apes. ”
Hilary blinked in astonishment, and once more he laughed.
“ They age so much faster than human beings, ” he explained. “ An ape, at thirteen, is the equivalent of a man at seventy— ”
“ The equivalent? ” Hilary objected.
“ In the process of aging, I meant, of course, ” Dr. Marsden told her, a twinkle in his blue eyes. He held the door into the clinic open for her and followed her through.
The room was already well-filled, despite the raw, cold rain that was falling in a slow, dispiriting drizzle. There were mothers with fretful babies, expectant mothers, awkward - looking men with enormous bandages to indicate injured limbs ...
They all looked up expectantly as Dr. Marsden and Hilary came in.
“ Good morning, ” said Dr. Marsden. “ This is Miss Westbrook, who ’ s going to assist me today. Miss Hazelton is not coming in. So you ’ ll have to give Miss Westbrook your names, and then give her time to find your charts, before she can help you. ”
Hilary sent a warm, friendly smile around the group, as Dr. Marsden went back to his office.
“ Let ’ s see now, ” said Hilary, “ who ’ s first? ”
“ I reckon I am miss. ” A worn-looking woman in a too-thin coat, a ragged scarf about her head, rose with a baby in her arms, a tiny, waxen-faced thing that twisted Hilary ’ s heart with pity. “ It ’ s Samuel here ’ s the patient. Seems like we just can ’ t get him to eat, and he cries ’ bout all the time. ”
The baby twisted in her arms, wailing fretfully, and Hilary ’ s experienced ears scarcely needed the chart which she located as the woman gave her name to understand that the child ’ s trouble was chiefly malnutrition. The poor mite was starving to death! She caught her thoughts back, and ushered the woman into Dr. Marsden ’ s treatment room.
She worked happily throughout the morning; happily, because here she felt that her nursing skill, her ability, were needed and being turned toward the purpose for which she had worked hard to acquire them.
She lost track of time. Gradually the group thinned out,
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