Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse
FALCON [Illustration] BOOKS
_Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse_
BY KAY LYTTLETON
As Jean Craig finished her training and prepared for graduation,
illness struck--first in her own family, and later in epidemics
that swept the village of Elmhurst. It was with a deep feeling of
satisfaction that Jean was able to give trained and efficient aid at
the hospital. It was with equal satisfaction that she watched romance
blossom between Dr. Benson, the fresh young intern, and Eileen Gordon,
the new Supervisor of Nurses, and discovered that her sister Kit was
practically engaged. But the joy of the family reached a new peak when
Doris, the youngest daughter, won a music scholarship. _Jean Craig,
Graduate Nurse_ is another heartwarming and happy story about the
Craigs of Elmhurst.
_OTHER JEAN CRAIG BOOKS_
Jean Craig Grows Up
Jean Craig in New York
Jean Craig Finds Romance
Jean Craig, Nurse
[Illustration: _Dr. Benson spent long hours in Timmy’s room._]
_JEAN CRAIG, GRADUATE NURSE_
by KAY LYTTLETON
[Illustration]
THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY
CLEVELAND AND NEW YORK
FALCON BOOKS
are published by THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY
2231 WEST 110th STREET · CLEVELAND 2 · OHIO
WP 8·50
_COPYRIGHT 1950
BY THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA_
Contents
1. Illness Strikes! 9
2. A Villain Unmasked 21
3. Fresh As Paint! 30
4. Emergency Operation 42
5. April Wedding 52
6. Dr. Benson Confesses 62
7. Ralph Returns from Europe 73
8. Jean and Ralph Discuss Their Future 80
9. Polio Claims a Victim 89
10. Kit at the Capital 99
11. Kit and Frank 113
12. An All Night Vigil 122
13. The Doctor’s Dilemma 133
14. Mercyville 145
15. Graduation! 158
16. Double Triumph 166
17. Judge Ellis Is Trapped 174
18. Just Among Girls 184
19. Elmhurst vs. Mercyville 194
20. Sweethearts’ Dance 205
21. Summer’s End 212
JEAN CRAIG, GRADUATE NURSE
1. Illness Strikes!
The small village of Elmhurst, Connecticut, was enjoying a balmy early
spring. The March winds were soft breezes coaxing the New England earth
to life again.
Night had settled after a long twilight, and gay sounds could be heard
coming from the nurses’ quarters at the Gallup Memorial Clinic. The
clinic, now almost two years old, was the pride of the community.
Before it was built, Dr. Gallup, gentle, wise and able physician, had
tended the sick, brought babies into the world and guarded the health
of the community with constant vigilance.
Like the noble man he was, Dr. Gallup refused to retire from active
practice until he had helped to provide for the future medical care of
his beloved patients. And because the town loved and respected him,
they backed him solidly. Together the people of Elmhurst created the
Gallup Memorial Clinic. And now, the white clapboard house which had
once belonged to a wealthy native was a small but efficient combination
hospital and clinic for the community.
Dr. Edward Barsch, eminent surgeon, had come down from Boston to serve
as head of the clinic. His staff was small but competent, and he had
managed to open an accredited nursing course.
It wouldn’t be long before the first class of nurses would graduate.
Standing high in the class, Jean Craig, one of the very first girls
interested in the clinic, was looking eagerly toward the summer day
when she would win her cap.
But tonight there was no thought of graduation. The nurses were
planning a party. For there was a wedding in the offing, and the
excited girls were wrapping presents and prettying themselves for Ethel
Simpson’s wedding shower.
Ethel had come down from Boston with Dr. Barsch to act as supervisor
of nurses. As is told in _Jean Craig, Nurse_, Jean and her classmates
had been taught and guided by the lovely, competent girl through their
year and a half of training. They had also laughed and cried with her
during her courtship and subsequent engagement to Dr. Ted Loring, staff
pediatrician. And now they were planning many gay and exciting parties
to celebrate the coming wedding.
The party was to be held at the Craig farmhouse just outside of town.
And while the girls were getting ready, Mrs. Craig was making a final
inspection of her home. When she was satisfied with the preparations,
she threw open the front door of the farmhouse and took a deep breath
of the fresh spring air.
It would be a happy spring, Mrs. Craig thought. Each year that passed
seemed to push the war and the hardships that followed farther back in
the shadowy memories of the family. Here in this simple village they
had found peace and happiness.
She smiled as she thought of her family. It was truly growing up.
Jean, her oldest daughter, was an adult. In a few months she would
be twenty-one. It was exciting to have an adult daughter, Mrs. Craig
thought fondly. Jean would be old enough to vote. She would be a
registered nurse, and lastly, but most important of all, she would soon
be a bride herself.
Five years ago, when the Craig family had moved to Elmhurst to forget
the misery of the war years, Jean had met Ralph MacRae, a handsome
young Canadian boy from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. _Jean Craig Grows Up_
tells how Ralph sold his Elmhurst farm to the Craig family, and lost
his heart to Jean in the bargain.
Next came Kit. Mrs. Craig smiled in spite of herself as she thought of
her nineteen-year-old impetuous daughter. Kit was the family scholar.
She had been sent to Hope College in Delphi, Wisconsin, by a crotchety
old uncle, and she had endeared herself to the elderly scholar by
turning into a scholar, herself. The tale of Kit’s entrance to Hope
College is told in _Jean Craig Finds Romance_. Mrs. Craig chuckled as
she remembered how Kit and Uncle Bart had stumbled upon a secret while
they were examining an ancient Egyptian mummy case, and how the money
awarded to Uncle Bart was now providing her daughter with the chance
for her education. Although Kit was many miles away from her family,
Mrs. Craig could almost feel the vitality of her daughter halfway
across the continent.
Doris was the youngest daughter. Mrs. Craig thought of her sweet,
pretty seventeen-year-old with tenderness. Doris was shy. In her
demure way, she often made her mother think of girls of generations
past. There was something almost old-fashioned about the feminine
child. But Doris was also very talented. Right now, while Mrs. Craig
waited for the guests to arrive, she could hear Doris softly playing a
Debussy etude. The music blended with the soft evening air and made the
atmosphere nearly perfect.
As Mrs. Craig thought of her son, Tommy, her mood changed. No one could
think of fifteen-year-old Tommy without smiling in amusement. Tommy
was all boy. His head was full of eager projects, and his legs were
long and still awkward. But he was a businessman, too. His chickens
had provided him with enough money for spending and for a good start
on his future college education. During the years that Mr. Craig had
been invalided after the war, Tommy had been the man of the family.
But though he knew the value of a dollar and the rich returns for hard
work, there was mischief and play in the boy. Baseball season was just
around the corner, and this, to Tommy, was as important as the money
he was putting away for the future.
Mrs. Craig frowned suddenly. She was thinking of Jack, the Craigs’
adopted son. Several years before, the homeless waif had found his way
to the Craig’s home and into all their hearts, and he had never left.
Jack was now thirteen. Two years ago, Mr. Craig had formally adopted
the boy, and he was now as truly a member of the family as any of the
other children. But Mrs. Craig was worried about him. Perhaps he was
growing too fast. For the past month, Jack had been listless and pale.
His appetite was poor ... a sure sign that something was wrong.
As she fretted about Jack, Jean came out on the porch and slipped her
arm around her mother’s waist. She was wearing a simple, pale blue
party dress which set off her sparkling eyes and curly brown hair.
“Everything’s ready,” she said. “Doris and Becky have organized the
whole party. And whatever are you baking in the kitchen? I can hardly
wait to find out!”
Mrs. Craig squeezed her daughter’s hand. “I wonder if we’ve ever tried
to have any sort of party in this house without Becky’s help,” she
mused.
Jean laughed. “Aunt Becky would be positively insulted if you didn’t
ask for her help, and you know it,” she answered.
“Aunt Becky would be lost without the Craig family to look after, you
mean,” Mrs. Craig laughed. “Ever since she urged us to come to Elmhurst
in the first place, she’s been watching over us like a mother hen.”
Jean giggled. “I would give anything to be at the hospital now. Did I
tell you that the doctors have taken over for the nurses tonight? So
that the girls could all come to the shower. I can just see Dr. Daley
and Dr. Jenkins running to answer patients’ calls.”
“It was lovely of them to volunteer,” Mrs. Craig said.
Jean nodded. “Oh, they’re all like that. I guess you have to cooperate
if you have such a small hospital. Oh golly,” she sighed, “the wedding
makes me want to cry.”
“I know how much you miss Ralph, dear,” Mrs. Craig answered. “Just a
few more weeks and he’ll be back again.”
“He’s in Norway now. Did I tell you, Mother?” Jean asked.
Mrs. Craig laughed. “Yes, dear. You told me. In fact, you read me his
last letter.”
Jean blushed. “That’s right. I guess I’ve told you a hundred times.”
Mrs. Craig smiled. “I think it’s wonderful that you want to talk about
Ralph so much.”
Doris came out on the porch and breathed deeply of the fresh air. “What
a night for a party!” she exclaimed. “It’s just about perfect!”
“Where’s Becky?” Mrs. Craig asked.
“Oh, she went upstairs to see Jack for a minute.”
Mrs. Craig sighed. “Has Jack gone to bed? So early?”
Jean turned around to face her mother. “I thought he and Tommy were
going over to Billy Ellis’s for the night.”
Mrs. Craig shook her head. “Tommy went, but Jack said he didn’t feel
well.”
Doris sat down on the porch swing. “Becky went up to give him a tonic.
She said something about springtime and sulphur and molasses....”
“And sulphur and molasses never hurt anyone,” Aunt Becky said as she
came out to join them. “I tell you, you have to get winter out of a
growing boy’s bones. The way that youngster has been mizzering around
lately just proves it. When he passed up the chance to spend the night
with us, I knew something was wrong.”
“Is Jack in bed, Becky?” Mrs. Craig asked.
“Yes, he is. He’s just plumb tuckered out. No wonder. He didn’t eat
enough supper to keep a bird alive.”
Mrs. Craig said, “I’ll go up to him in a few minutes. After the guests
arrive.”
Just then a car turned into the Craig driveway. Doris stood up. “Here
they come. Don’t forget, Mother, Becky. This is a surprise party.”
The car door opened and Hedda and Ingeborg hopped out. The student
nurses ran up the steps while Ethel switched off the ignition and
headlights and climbed out after them.
“Evening, Mrs. Craig, everyone,” the girls called as they came up to
the porch.
“Good evening, girls,” Mrs. Craig replied, grasping their hands.
“Ethel, dear, you look lovely this evening.”
Ethel slipped off her white wool jacket and displayed her silver-green
party dress. She whirled around. “See the skirt,” she laughed. “Ted
helped me pick this out.”
“He has lovely taste, then,” Mrs. Craig said.
“For a man,” Hedda added. “It’s simply gorgeous.”
Ethel smiled as she thought of her fiance. “You know, it’s wonderful,”
she said softly. “I haven’t any father or mother to help me prepare for
the wedding, so I have a fiance who can be so helpful and wonderful in
these things!”
Mrs. Craig smiled fondly at the girl. “Well,” she said briskly, “let’s
go inside.”
The girls drifted into the living room. Doris sat down at the piano and
began to play a popular tune. They all grouped around her and began to
sing as Mrs. Craig slipped out to the kitchen.
Jean heard sputtering and backfiring in the driveway. “Here come Helen
and Eileen,” she cried.
In a few minutes, the two girls appeared in the doorway. “Old Bessy
made it up your hill,” Eileen giggled. “There’s life in the old
rattletrap yet.”
“How’re the doctors making out over at the clinic?” Ingeborg asked.
Helen chuckled. “Oh, just fine. Can you imagine Dr. Jenkins making
formula for the babies? He certainly looked fussed and awkward.”
“Wait till Ted’s bachelor dinner,” Jean teased. “Then I suppose we’ll
have to do all their work.”
“Dr. Barsch is at the desk,” Helen continued. “Any calls tonight are
going to be answered by St. Peter himself,” she said irreverently.
Lucy Peckham and Sally Hancock came in the door just as Mrs. Craig
brought in a large bushel basket decorated with white and gold paper.
The basket was heaped with shower gifts for Ethel.
“Here you are, my dear,” Mrs. Craig said. “And you know we all wish you
great happiness with every gift.”
Tears glistened in Ethel’s eyes as she looked at the basket.
“I sort of knew it would be a shower,” she admitted. “But I never had a
basketful of presents before in my life. You just shouldn’t have done
it!”
Doris started to play the _Wedding March_, and the girls clustered
around Ethel as she slowly opened her presents. Mrs. Craig waited till
the first gift was opened, and then she slipped out into the hall.
As she started up the stairs, the door opened, and Mr. Craig and Ted
Loring came in.
She turned around and came down to greet her husband and the young
doctor. “Why, Ted,” she said fondly, “how nice to see you!” She smiled
at her husband.
“Ted and I have some things to talk over, Marge,” Mr. Craig explained.
“We thought tonight would be a fine time.”
“Then you didn’t come to join the party?”
Ted stared at her in mock horror. “Heaven forbid!” he exclaimed. He
peeked through the entranceway into the living room. “They do look
lovely, don’t they?”
Mr. Craig smiled at the sight of the radiant girls. “Yes, they do,” he
agreed. “Now Marge, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll just take this young man
into the study.”
“Oh, of course,” Mrs. Craig said. “I’m on my way upstairs. I’ll bring
you some hot chocolate later, if you like.”
They both smiled and nodded as she went upstairs.
“Come in, Ted,” Mr. Craig said, opening the door to his study. They sat
down in comfortable chairs and pulled out their pipes.
Mr. Craig smiled disarmingly at the boy. “You might call this a trial
run for me, son,” he said.
“I don’t understand, sir,” Ted replied, lighting his pipe.
Mr. Craig leaned back and stared out of the window. “I guess you know
that our daughter will be getting married pretty soon. When young
MacRae comes back from Europe, probably. I guess he’ll want a few
words with me beforehand. So I thought I’d ... well, I’d practice on
you.”
Ted nodded. “You don’t know what this means to me, Mr. Craig,” he said
warmly. “You and Mrs. Craig have been like a second father and mother
to Ethel, and this gesture just about completes the picture.”
Mr. Craig nodded. “Fine girl,” he mused. “I can’t remember knowing any
finer girl, as a matter of fact. Well, I guess all young people have to
listen to some old man recount the blessings and pitfalls of marriage
sooner or later. Your mother is still living, isn’t she, Ted?”
“Yes, sir. She will be here next month for the wedding. She and Ethel
have been corresponding for several months, now. Needless to say,
Mother is thrilled.”
The older man nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, Ted, I’m in no
position to ask you impertinent questions about your bank account or
your ideas about marriage or anything else. But I just want to give you
a little advice. Advice which I think you can use. In some ways, you
and I are very much alike. Before I went into the Army, I was pretty
absorbed in my work. Perhaps I knew as much as the average husband and
father about what was going on in my family. But it took a war and a
serious illness to prove to me that no work in the world is one quarter
as important as a man’s wife and children.
“I know what medicine means to you, Ted. I have some idea of the
demands it makes on you. But never forget that you will have a wife who
will stand beside you and will help you fight whatever battles come
along. Just don’t forget to let her help you in the fight....”
Mrs. Craig knocked softly at the door.
“Come in, Marge,” Mr. Craig called. “We could use some hot chocolate.”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Craig said as she closed the door behind her. “I
didn’t intend to break in on you quite so soon. But, dear, I’m worried.
Jack is upstairs in bed. He isn’t feeling at all well.”
Mr. Craig tapped the heel of his pipe in his hand. “Something he ate
for supper?”
Mrs. Craig shook her head. “No, it’s a cold, or, well, I don’t exactly
know what. He has some fever.”
“How high a fever, Mrs. Craig?” Ted asked.
Mrs. Craig smiled almost apologetically. “Hardly any at all. His
temperature registers just over ninety-nine. But he feels so bad. He
says he aches all over.”
Ted started for the door. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Craig, I’m going to
take a look at him,” he said.
2. A Villain Unmasked
Jack was lying face down on his cot when Ted and Mr. and Mrs. Craig
came into his room. He turned his head with a grimace and looked up at
them listlessly. Ted walked quickly over to him and sat down on the
floor beside his bed.
“Just let your head down, Jack,” Ted said as Jack tried to look up at
his mother and father. “Now tell me where you hurt.”
“All over,” Jack whispered.
Ted nodded. “Does it hurt to talk?”
Jack nodded.
Ted looked up at Mrs. Craig. “How long has he been feeling this way?”
Mrs. Craig said helplessly, “I don’t think it’s ever been this bad.
He’s been sort of listless ever since he had a cold last month.”
Ted picked up Jack’s arm gently. He pressed against the elbow. Jack
winced.
“What kind of cold was it?” Ted asked.
Mrs. Craig smoothed Jack’s forehead. “Well, he first had the sniffles,
and then a sore throat and then a cough. Pretty much like all his
colds. Then, a while later, he got another sore throat. He ran some
fever.”
“Uh huh,” Ted said, nodding his head.
“Mother, my head aches,” Jack moaned.
Ted sighed and stood up. “Well, we can’t do anything here. If you don’t
mind, I’d like to run him over to the clinic and let Dr. Barsch and Dr.
Jenkins have a look at him. I came on a social call, and I don’t even
have a stethoscope with me.”
Mrs. Craig straightened up. “Is it serious, Ted?” she asked.
Ted hesitated and then nodded. “It might be, Mrs. Craig,” he said. He
picked up Jack’s wrist and looked at it. “There’s some swelling here.
You see?”
Mr. and Mrs. Craig both nodded.
“Well, let’s get him to the hospital,” Ted said. “If we can wrap him up
in blankets, we don’t need to bother him with clothes.”
Mrs. Craig picked up Jack’s blankets and wrapped them around the
bewildered boy. Ted smiled at him and said, “Cheer up, son. These
things happen to the best of us. We probably won’t keep you at the
clinic very long.”
Mrs. Craig started for the door. “I’ll get my coat,” she said.
Mr. Craig caught her arm. “Let me take the boy over, Marge,” he said.
“The girls will need you for their party.”
Mrs. Craig whirled around. “I can’t leave him now!” she cried. “My boy
is sick, and I’m going to stay with him!”
Mr. Craig put his arm around his distraught wife. “Of course, dear,” he
said. “And please don’t worry.”
“Get your car ready,” Mrs. Craig said to Ted. “Mr. Craig can carry him
downstairs. We’ll be ready when you are.”
Mrs. Craig ran downstairs and took her coat from the hall closet. She
looked into the living room where the party was in full swing. After a
minute she caught Jean’s eye.
“Jean,” she said softly, as her daughter came to the doorway. “Jack is
sick, and Ted and I are going over to the clinic with him. Don’t tell
the others. I don’t want to break up their fun. But you’ll have to
manage without me.”
Jean gasped. “Oh, Mother! I’ll go over with you!” she cried.
“No, dear,” Mrs. Craig said firmly. “You stay with your guests. I’ll
call you as soon as we know anything.”
Mr. Craig bundled Jack into the car, and Mrs. Craig and Ted started
off with him toward town. Ted drove slowly, avoiding the bumps in the
country road. Mrs. Craig supported Jack tenderly, trying to brace him
against the swaying of the car. She noticed that Ted was scowling
angrily, and she suddenly felt cold with fright. As if he could sense
her terror, Ted reached over and patted her hand.
“I think everything’s going to be all right, Mrs. Craig,” he said
reassuringly.
Dr. Barsch was at the desk when they came into the hospital. Ted
exchanged a few words with him. The head doctor nodded gravely and came
over to Mrs. Craig and the boy.
“So you’ve caught yourself a bug, Jack,” Dr. Barsch said. “Well, let’s
get you upstairs, and Dr. Jenkins and I’ll go over you, and see just
what is the matter. If Dr. Loring will take over at the desk, I’ll have
an orderly take you right up.”
“May I go, too, Doctor?” Mrs. Craig asked.
Dr. Barsch hesitated, and then Mrs. Craig said, “No, I’ll wait here. I
shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”
Dr. Barsch nodded. “It’s all right, Mrs. Craig. I know you’re worried.
I’ll let you see Jack as soon as I can.”
After the orderly had taken Jack upstairs, Ted sat down behind the desk
facing Mrs. Craig, who paced nervously back and forth.
“Please sit down, Mrs. Craig,” he begged her. “You’ll just wear
yourself out.”
Mrs. Craig smiled and sat down in an easy chair across the desk from
Ted. “I must seem like a foolish mother hen,” she said apologetically.
Ted looked at her in wonder. “I wish there were more mothers in the
world like you. Some of the mothers I’ve seen wouldn’t be this anxious
about their own children, let alone an adopted son.”
Mrs. Craig thought a moment. “I wonder why people don’t understand,”
she said softly. “Jack is every bit as much my own child as if I had
given birth to him.”
Ted nodded. “Of course _I’ve_ always thought of him as your own,
because he’s been with you as long as I’ve known you. But I’ve often
wondered, Mrs. Craig, why you and Mr. Craig adopted another child. I
mean, when your family is as large as it is.”
Mrs. Craig smiled softly as she remembered Jack when he first came to
her house. “We didn’t exactly adopt Jack. He adopted us. He turned
up one day looking for work. When he was just a bit of a thing. His
mother was dead. And his father!” she made a face as she remembered the
distasteful man. “He was frightful! He dragged that mite of a child
along with him on box cars! He ... he rode the rails, I think the
expression is. And then he found that Jack was too much of a nuisance,
thank God! And he dumped him off at Elmhurst.”
“You mean he ran away from his own son?”
Mrs. Craig nodded. “And so Jack came to us. Then, just about two
years ago, his father turned up again. I suppose that was fortunate,
too. He wanted Jack back. You see, Jack and Tommy make quite a bit of
money from their chickens. So he wanted Jack’s money. Mr. Craig made a
settlement with him, and he gave us permission to adopt Jack. So, you
see, Jack is our very own child. And that dreadful man has no claim to
him, whatsoever!”
Ted smiled. “Jack was lucky,” he said quietly.
“And so were we. I can’t imagine how, but that boy, brought up in
filth and horrible conditions, was as fine a boy as you can imagine.
Right from the very start. Oh, Ted, if anything happened to Jack, we’d
be lost!”
Ted smiled again. “Nothing will happen, Mrs. Craig,” he reassured her.
“What ... what do you think it is?” she asked timidly.
Ted hesitated. “I don’t know, of course,” he said.
“You mean, you don’t want to tell me?” she asked.
He drew a long breath. “Very well,” he said. “I’m afraid it may be
rheumatic fever.”
Mrs. Craig drew a long sigh of relief. “Oh, good heavens. And here I’ve
been really worried. I was so afraid of polio. I know it isn’t the
right season for polio, but you don’t know how a mother worries about
such things!”
Ted ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t think you understand, Mrs.
Craig. Do you know what rheumatic fever is?”
Mrs. Craig shook her head. “A sort of rheumatism, isn’t it? That would
explain the aching and the tiredness and swelling of the joints.”
Ted sighed. “It’s a type of rheumatism, all right. But compared to
rheumatic fever, polio is a pink tea party.”
Mrs. Craig gasped. “Oh, no!” she cried.
Ted drummed his fingers against the desk. “I don’t mean to under-rate
the seriousness of polio. But almost always polio can be diagnosed ...
at least the mother knows the child is really sick. But this mean
villain of a germ which Jack may have is one of the slickest criminals
of the medical world. Rheumatic fever doesn’t cripple outwardly ...
doesn’t disfigure a person the way polio does. But it can cripple and
kill.”
Mrs. Craig caught Ted’s hand. “Oh, Ted!” she cried.
Ted covered her hand with his. “Now, it’s not going to kill Jack. I can
promise you that.” He ran his fingers through his hair again. “But you
have no idea how many youngsters contract the disease and no one ever
knows it.”
“How does it work, Ted?” she asked.
“It usually starts in the form of a strep throat. You remember you
told me Jack had not one but two sore throats with his cold? Probably
he caught the infection while his resistance was low from his cold.
Then, after a while, the throat heals and the patient is presumably
well. Only he doesn’t really feel good. He hasn’t much appetite. He’s
listless. He aches in the joints. He isn’t exactly sick, but he isn’t
well, either. Lots of people ignore these symptoms. So the strep then
attacks the heart. If the patient is lucky, after that, he manages
to fight off the infection, or arrest it, and survives with a badly
damaged heart.”
Mrs. Craig covered her mouth with her hand. “And if the patient isn’t
lucky?” she asked.
Ted shook his head. “Let’s not talk about it any more,” he said.
“You mean, he dies?”
Ted nodded. “But you must remember this. Jack doesn’t fit either case.
Thanks to you, we’ve caught the villain. Jack’s going to have help in
his fight.”
Dr. Jenkins came down into the lobby and nodded to them. “I think we’ve
found the root of the trouble,” he said calmly.
Mrs. Craig shook her head as if to fight off a bad dream. “Dr.
Jenkins,” she said slowly, “your specialty is heart trouble, isn’t it?”
Dr. Jenkins smiled. “Of course I’m just past my internship, Mrs. Craig.
Someday I hope to be a heart specialist, though. But for right now, I’d
like to call in a specialist from Boston. We want to be very sure to do
exactly the right things.”
Ted looked at the other doctor. “I was right, Fred?” he asked.
Dr. Jenkins nodded. “And if Mrs. Craig wants to see Jack now....”
“Oh, please!” Mrs. Craig cried. “Ted, will you call Mr. Craig and tell
him? But please don’t let him tell the girls till the party is over.”
Jack was lying flat on his back in a small single room near the
pediatric ward. He managed a grin as Mrs. Craig came into the room.
“Jeepers, you should see all the things they did to me,” he said as
gaily as he could. “Mother, it sorta makes a guy feel important with a
couple of doctors fussing over him.”
Mrs. Craig knelt beside his bed. “All right, baby, everything is going
to be fine.”
Jack grimaced. “I’m not a baby,” he protested weakly. “They gave me
some aspirin and stuff. My head doesn’t ache so much. Hey, will you ask
Tommy if he ever had a car--cardio--you know what I mean?”
“A cardiograph? I’m sure Tommy never had one. You’ll be able to tell
him all about it in a few days,” Mrs. Craig smiled.
“They gave me a pill. I feel sorta dopey. But don’t hang around all
night or anything, because I’m gonna be okay.”
Mrs. Craig caressed his forehead gently. “Of course you are, Jack.”
Jack dozed off. But as he relaxed, a spasm of pain hit him, and he
cried, “Mother!” Too near to sleep to act like a man any longer,
he whimpered like a young child. Mrs. Craig stroked his black hair
tenderly.
Dr. Barsch appeared in the doorway. “I think he’s asleep, Mrs. Craig.
If you want to stay here tonight, there is a room next to this one....”
“Is it all right if I stay right with him?” she asked. “I’m not very
sleepy.”
Dr. Barsch came in and sat down beside the bed. “You’re a wonderful
woman, Mrs. Craig,” he said softly. “This boy is so lucky. And what a
boy he is! The exam we gave him wasn’t very pleasant for him. He’s in a
lot of pain. But he joked and grinned and ...” he turned his head away
a little. “I don’t know. Sometimes a youngster like this can make one
proud to be part of the human race!”
3. Fresh as Paint!
Billy Ellis and Buzzy Hancock dashed up the driveway to the porch of
the Craigs’ farmhouse. Tommy was sitting on the porch swing jotting
down figures in his account book when his pals joined him. They jumped
up on the porch, and Billy cuffed Buzzy playfully as they sat down on
the swing.
“Hey, take it easy, you guys,” Tommy said. “I’m trying to add up my
accounts. I want to give Jack an exact report of how much money we made
while he was gone.”
Billy stretched his long legs out in front of him. His voice, which
wavered between soprano and baritone, was full of sympathy as he said,
“Jeepers, what a break! The poor little guy’s going to miss all the fun
this summer.”
Tommy looked at his two closest pals. Billy, Judge Ellis’s son and
Aunt Becky’s stepson, was a few months younger than he. Ever since
the Craigs had come to Elmhurst, both Billy and Sally Hancock’s young
brother, Buzzy, had been involved in every project Tommy and Jack had
undertaken.
He shut his book. Stretching lazily, he said, “I guess it’s up to us
to see he has as much fun as possible. It’s a real tough break for
the ball team, though. I don’t know where we’re going to get a good
shortstop now that Jack’s out for the season.”
“Can we see him soon?” Buzzy asked.
Tommy shook his head. “Mom says no company for a while. He’s coming
home this afternoon, but you guys can’t see him for some time.”
Billy sighed. “Seems to me there isn’t any use in being sick. It isn’t
any fun no matter which way you look at it. What’s the guy going to do
with his time?”
“Oh, read, I guess. And study. He’s going to have a tutor, Mom said,”
Tommy answered.
Buzzy whistled. “You mean he’s gotta have school work? Jeepers! That’s
terrible!”
Tommy shrugged. “It would be worse if he had to stay back a term in
school.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Buzzy said thoughtfully. “But about what we guys
can do. You think about it, Tommy. Let us know, won’t you?”
Tommy stood up. “Will do,” he said. “And listen, you guys, one more
thing. Mom said those letters you wrote were just about the nicest
things you could have done for him. Keep it up, will you?”
Doris came out to the porch. “Tommy, have you seen Mother?” she asked.
“Sure. Mom’s upstairs getting ready to go over to get Jack. What’s up?”
“Where’s Dad?”
Tommy stared at her. “At the office, of course. Where else?”
Doris giggled at herself. “I guess I got so used to having Dad around
the house that I forgot he does go to work regularly now.” She pulled a
letter from her pocket. “It’s from Kit,” she told him.
“From Kit? Hey, let’s see it!” Tommy cried.
Doris put it back in her pocket. “It’s to Mother and Dad,” she said
severely.
Tommy shrugged. “Come on, gang,” he cried. “Let’s get some cookies.”
The boys disappeared into the kitchen, and Doris went upstairs.
“Mother!” she called. “Letter from Kit!”
Mrs. Craig was putting on her hat when Doris came into her room. She
smiled at her daughter and held out her hand. “Good news, I hope,” she
smiled, taking the envelope.
“Kit’s news is always good,” Doris said. “College seems to agree with
her.”
Mrs. Craig hastily scanned the note, nodding and then frowning as she
read. “Kit has spring fever,” she decided as she folded the letter and
slipped it back into the envelope. “Claims she’s bored with life.” She
smiled to herself. “But after her trip to Washington, I think she’ll
feel better.”
“What trip to Washington?” Doris asked.
Mrs. Craig grinned at the thought. “Kit has been elected president of
the Hope College Historical Society, you know, dear. There’s a large
history convention in Washington after classes let out in June. There
will be girls and boys from all over the country.”
Doris grinned. “And of course there will be Frank Howard in Washington.”
Mrs. Craig sighed. “I think that’s what’s wrong with Kit. I think she
misses Frank more than she will admit.”
Doris sat down on her mother’s bed. “Do you think Kit will marry Frank,
Mother?”
“Good heavens!” Mrs. Craig exclaimed. “How should I know? They _are_
very close friends ... and they have been for several years.”
“Ever since Kit caught Frank in the berry patches,” Doris giggled.
It was typical of Kit that she should have trapped the bright young
entomologist in an effort to catch a berry thief. A bantering
friendship had grown out of this episode, and lately there had been
sure signs that the friendship between Kit and Frank was ripening into
affection.
Mrs. Craig powdered her nose. “Do you want to ride with me to the
hospital, Doris?”
“Yes, I’d like to,” Doris said. “I want to talk to you about something,
anyway.”
On the way over to the clinic, Doris said, “There’s a sort of contest
at school, Mother. A music contest.”
Mrs. Craig smiled. “That’s nice, dear,” she said. “Are you going to
enter it?”
Doris frowned slightly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.
It’s for a scholarship to a music school. I don’t know whether I want
to try for it or not.”
Mrs. Craig stared at her. “But good heavens, why not? What school is
it?”
“Timothy College in North Carolina. It’s very small--all music, you
know. It’s awfully far away, too. And with Jean getting married and Kit
away at school, well, I don’t know whether I want to leave home or not.”
Mrs. Craig slowed down the car. “Let’s talk about this with your
father. But, dear, I think you should at least try out. It would be a
shame to let your talent go to waste.”
Doris hesitated. Then she said, “But Mother, I don’t want to go away!
I’m not like Jean and Kit. I’d just like to stay right here in Elmhurst
forever and ever. I like it at home.”
Mrs. Craig tapped the steering wheel with her fingers. “Doris, I want
you to enter that contest. Why shouldn’t you have the right to go away
to school? We were able to send Jean to New York for a year of Art
School,” she said, referring to Jean’s experiences which are recounted
in _Jean Craig in New York_. “Then Kit won herself the chance to go to
Hope College. Now, it’s your turn.”
“But Mother....” Doris began.
Mrs. Craig shook her head. “I don’t know very much about art or music,
my dear,” she interrupted, “but your father and I have always felt
that you were extremely talented. Frankly, I’ve always felt that you
were the most talented of all my daughters. Jean is a good artist.
Competent, I think she calls herself. But she has no illusions about
being a great artist. I think perhaps you have the ability to develop
into a fine musician.”
Doris shook her head. “Oh, golly,” she said, “I just don’t want to go
through what Jean and Kit have gone through.”
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Craig asked, surprised.
“You know. You get yourself all ready to do something important in this
life, and then you fall in love with some man and want to get married.
Look how mixed up Jean was. And look at Kit now. She’s going to college
and has even talked about doing graduate work. But you and I know she’s
mad about Frank Howard and that she’ll probably just get married.”
Mrs. Craig repressed a smile. “Darling, you don’t just get married,”
she said gently. “Both Jean and Kit are much better prepared to become
good wives because they did develop their talents. I think you should
do the same.”
Doris sighed. “Maybe so,” she agreed. “Oh, golly! I’m selfish! I know
you’re worrying about Jack and his homecoming. It’ll be _so_ good to
have him home again!”
Jack was waiting when they arrived at the hospital. Jean and Sally
Hancock were in his room gathering his few belongings. Mrs. Craig shook
her head as she saw the thin, pale boy lying on the bed. His black
eyes seemed even larger than usual, but they were no longer dull and
glassy. They sparkled when they saw Mrs. Craig.
“Oh, Mother!” he cried. “I thought you’d _never_ get here! Golly, but
I’m tired of this room. Not that they haven’t been swell here, though.
Dr. Jenkins and Dr. Caulfield from Boston have been here almost all the
time. They talked a lot to me.”
“That’s fine, dear,” Mrs. Craig said briskly.
“But, gee, I sure missed Tommy. And the hens. Tommy doesn’t know how to
keep track of all those hens. I ... I don’t know what he’s gonna do,
now that I can’t help him.”
Jean patted Jack’s shoulder. “You’re learning young that no man is
indispensable to his business.”
He looked up at her. “Huh?” he said.
They all laughed. “Jean means that business has to go on no matter what
happens,” Mrs. Craig said, smiling. “And it usually does. Billy Ellis
and Buzzy Hancock were over this morning. They want to see you as soon
as you can have company.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jack said. “They wrote me. Jeepers, what a swell gang
they are! Those dumb letters! They made me laugh till I hurt!”
Ted Loring brought in a wheel chair. “Here’s your chair, my lord,” he
called from the doorway. “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Craig. You’re looking
fine this morning. I’m going to ride over with you and help get our
patient back to bed, if that’s all right with you.”
Mrs. Craig smiled. “That’s very thoughtful, Ted. Mr. Craig is in town
this morning, and we could use a strong back.”
Ted grinned. “I heard about Mr. Craig’s new position. I think it’s
swell. We need an architect around this town, although I sort of like
these old New England designs.”
Mrs. Craig smiled. “He’s glad to be back at work, too.”
“I found out about it from Dr. Daley,” Ted explained. “I guess you know
he kept a pretty close eye on Mr. Craig while he was working on the
veterans’ houses. A nervous breakdown is nothing to fool around with.
But Dr. Daley seems to think he’s now in fine shape.”
Jean tucked a robe around Jack’s legs as they started out of the room.
“Take good care of him, Mother,” she said. “I’ll be home for dinner
tonight, you know.”
Jean watched the small procession move slowly down the hall. Then she
pulled her sketchbook from her pocket and began thumbing through it.
“Hi, gorgeous!”
Jean turned around to see Gerald Benson, the new intern, coming down
the hall. “Oh, good morning, Dr. Benson,” she said. She started to pass
him, but he blocked her path.
“I’ve just been having a lecture on the glories of one Miss Jean
Craig,” Dr. Benson said. “They sure go for you around here.”
Jean stared at him in surprise. “Whatever are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “I was ambling through the lobby with Dr. Barsch this noon
and _just_ happened to comment on the painting over the mantel down
there. And the good doctor ups and tells me that you did it!”
Jean giggled. “I’m afraid I did,” she admitted. “It’s not so glorious,
though,” she added.
“It’s good enough. I didn’t know you were an artist.”
Jean smiled. “I’m not. Not really. I studied for a year in New York.
And I like to paint for pleasure. As a matter of fact, I’m hoping to do
something with my art work combined with medicine.”
Dr. Benson whistled. “You mean surgical art? That’s a tough field.”
Jean grinned. “I know it is. But Dr. Barsch has encouraged me to try
my hand at it. I guess starting just about any time now, he’s going to
give me practice sketching operations here. As a matter of fact, I was
just going through my sketchbook. I’m working on anatomical drawings
from books now so I’ll be better at doing real life sketches.”
Dr. Benson put his hands on his hips. “Did you donate that painting to
the clinic as your contribution?”
Jean smiled again. “Well, not exactly,” she admitted. “You see, when
the hospital first opened, Ted Loring and I had a long talk about
clinics and things. And he gave me the idea, sort of. He said a clinic
was a place where people exercised cooperation, ingenuity and hard
work. So I put the idea down on canvas. You know, the man and woman and
child joining hands in a field of grain. And then, of all things, Dr.
Loring swiped it! _He_ donated it!”
Dr. Benson smiled wryly. “It sounds like a motto he might make up.”
“What’s the matter with it?” Jean demanded.
“Let’s go out tonight, and I’ll tell you,” Dr. Benson said.
She smiled at him. “I’m sorry, Dr. Benson, but I can’t.”
“But you’re off tonight. I saw the schedules.”
Jean smiled. “But I thought you knew. I’m engaged. I’m not free to
accept dates. I’m sure one of the other girls....”
“You mean you’re turning me down just because you’ve got a ring? I hear
your man is in Europe. That’s pretty far away. And a pretty little girl
like you shouldn’t be sitting home nights, just because--”
Jean brushed past him. “I’m sorry,” she said shortly.
Dr. Benson grabbed her arm. “Now wait, honey. Don’t get sore. I mean,
what’s the harm? I’m not asking you to break your engagement. I just
wanted to have some fun. You look as if you could use some yourself.”
Jean pulled free. “I’m sorry, Dr. Benson,” she said stiffly. “I’m very
busy just now.”
The intern watched her walk down the hall. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said,
“I’ll try again sometime. You’ll get lonely before too long.”
Jean marched into the students’ lounge and slammed the door behind her.
Eileen Gordon was lying on the couch reading a magazine. She looked up
as Jean came in.
“Why, Jean, what’s the matter?” she asked, looking at Jean’s angry
face. “Didn’t Jack get off all right?” Eileen sat up and closed her
magazine.
Jean sat down in an easy chair. “Oh, yes. Mother came for him just now.
Ted was sweet. He went home with them to help her get Jack settled in
bed at home.”
“Well, then, what’s wrong?” Eileen asked.
“Oh, nothing really, I guess. Only that new Dr. Benson asked me for a
date.”
Eileen sniffed. “Oh, is that all?” she asked. “Well, don’t worry about
it. He won’t ask you again.”
Jean stared at her. “Why?” she asked.
Eileen shrugged. “He asked me for a date when he first came here. I was
busy and told him so, and he hasn’t bothered me since.”
Jean shook her head. “It’s the principle of the thing,” she said.
“Maybe he didn’t know you’re engaged.”
“He knew, all right. He knew that Ralph is abroad, too. He said I might
be lonely.”
Eileen scowled. “So that’s the way he is! Well, that settles Dr. Benson
as far as I’m concerned. So he’d try to steal someone’s girl when the
someone isn’t around to fight for her.”
Jean laughed as she opened a coke. “Don’t be too hard on him. He wasn’t
exactly trying to steal me. He just asked to take me out.”
Eileen grimaced. “I know the type. You know, Jean, I’ve been around
hospitals a long time. And I’ve known a lot of doctors. They aren’t all
like Ted and Dr. Barsch and the rest of them here. Sometimes they get
pretty cynical. Yep, I know Dr. Benson’s type, all right!”
4. Emergency Operation
The following night Jean was on duty. She had just come up from early
supper when she was called into Dr. Barsch’s office.
“Miss Craig,” Dr. Barsch said briskly, “I haven’t much time to explain,
but if you will get your sketch pad, I want you to try to do a drawing
of an operation I’m about to perform. The little DuPrez boy is coming
in immediately. Acute appendicitis. Loring says we can’t wait. I’ve
already called the staff.”
Jean gasped. “You mean, you want me to go right in there and do a
drawing?” she asked.
Dr. Barsch nodded. “You can’t learn surgical art any better way. I
don’t expect to be able to use your sketch, but I want you to have the
practice.”
“Then you won’t use me to assist you?” she asked.
Dr. Barsch frowned impatiently. “Naturally not. Now, please hurry. Get
your materials, and I’ll see you upstairs.”
Jean hurried to her room and snatched up her sketch pad and pencils.
She ran down the hall towards the operating room and went into the
small lavatory to scrub. Two women were scouring the room, and Helen
Pierce was sterilizing instruments. When Jean had finished scrubbing,
Helen helped her with her gloves and mask.
“This is a real emergency,” Helen muttered as she checked her
instruments. “They always wait till the last minute before they call
the doctor.”
“Will it be a dangerous operation?” Jean asked.
Helen shrugged. “That depends. Usually an appendectomy is a snap. That
is, easy for the patient. But it can be ticklish if the appendix is
ready to break open.”
Dr. Barsch and Ted came in to scrub up. The girls worked in silence,
and the only sound was that of the rushing water in the lavatory. Dr.
Henry, the anesthetician, bustled in and, after scrubbing, came over to
the sterilizer and peeked in.
“I can’t use ether, Miss Pierce,” he said. “You should know that.”
He grunted. “And if we could use a complete anesthetic, I’d choose
sodium pentothal. But this will have to be a local block. The child
undoubtedly has eaten today.”
Helen nodded and went over to the cabinet. Carefully she selected an
injection syringe with her tongs and dropped it into the sterilizer.
Dr. Henry checked his supply of anesthetic, nodded, and rubbed his
gloved hands together briskly.
Jean frowned. “Why can’t you use ether, Dr. Henry?” she asked.
The portly, middle-aged anesthetician turned around to face her. “Some
people get very sick when we put them out. Particles of food or liquid
are apt to catch in their lungs. They haven’t the control of their
reflexes that people who are awake do. There’s always the danger of a
patient choking to death.”
“Then the child will be conscious?” Jean asked. “He’ll know what’s
going on? I know we’ve used that frequently for adults, but won’t it be
difficult with a child?”
Ted laughed. “He won’t know much. We already have him so groggy with
sedatives that he doesn’t know _what’s_ going on.”
Dr. Barsch frowned impatiently. “What’s keeping them? Every minute we
lose gives us less of a chance.”
As he spoke, the small patient was wheeled into the operating room.
Jean’s heart went out to the tiny, white figure lying on the table. His
eyes were dulled, and his body was partially relaxed. But his face was
a study in fear.
Dr. Barsch stepped over to the table. “All right, son,” he said gently.
“I’m going to put a curtain right over your middle. You know what
you’re going to feel?”
Gene DuPrez shook his head, and he gazed pleadingly at Dr. Barsch.
“Ever been to the dentist?”
The boy nodded.
“And did he poke a needle into your gum so it wouldn’t hurt when he
drilled into your tooth?” Dr. Barsch asked.
Gene nodded solemnly. Sally, who had come in with the boy, and Helen
turned him over on his side and bent his legs up to meet his chest.
“Well, we’re going to do the same thing now. We’re only going to hurt
you enough to make you say, ‘ouch’.”
Gene interrupted Dr. Barsch by saying, “Ouch!”
“That’s it, Gene,” Dr. Barsch said. “You’re going to feel something
else, now. Your toes will get all numb. Then your legs, and then your
tummy. Now, I have a feather, and I’m going to tickle your tummy. You
tell me when you can’t feel it any longer.”
Sally drew the curtain across the boy’s abdomen so that he couldn’t see
below his chest. Then she took her station by Gene’s head. Smiling down
at him, she tousled his hair. “Feel kind of sleepy, don’t you?” she
asked.
“It still tickles,” Gene murmured.
On the other side of the curtain, Dr. Barsch had made the incision. He
smiled and silently gave thanks for the anesthetic which made a deep
abdominal wound feel like a tickle. But his smile disappeared when he
reached the appendix.
“Oh, brother!” Ted said, shaking his head. Jean glanced at the open
wound and began to sketch rapidly.
“Here’s one we caught just in time,” Dr. Barsch sighed. He spoke so
low that Gene couldn’t hear him. “Look at that appendix. I’ll be lucky
if I can get it out without breaking it. When, in heaven’s name, did
you first see this boy?” he asked Ted.
Ted bit his lip. “Ten minutes before we came over. I didn’t even stop
to do a blood count on him. Let’s not talk about it. I get cold shivers
up and down my back when I think of how close his mother came to giving
him something for his stomach ache instead of calling a doctor.”
Jean shuddered at the thought.
“It still tickles, doctor,” Gene said in a piping voice. “I’ll tell you
when it stops.”
Jean grinned as she bent over her sketch.
“Something just stopped her,” Ted continued. “She called me instead. A
hunch, she said.”
“God loves His small creatures,” Dr. Barsch replied. “All right, here
we go.” He lifted the swollen appendix from the wound with great care.
With a sigh of relief, he placed it carefully in a receptacle on the
table. The distended organ broke as he laid it down.
“Ye Gods!” Ted said, turning white. “That’s the closest one I’ve ever
seen!”
Dr. Barsch grinned as he started to sew up the incision. “It’s all over
now, doctor. Gene, does it still tickle?”
“A little bit,” the boy answered. “Not much.”
“Good boy!” Dr. Barsch said. He finished his sewing and nodded. “What
about now?”