minority themselves. It finally was accomplished in the good old New
England tradition of a town meeting. The few ignorant objectors were
laughed and hooted right out of the meeting, too.” She smiled at the
memory.
“But to get back to Dad,” she continued. “After he had finished
designing the houses for the project, he was swamped with orders. And
eager as he was to fill them, he was very intelligent. He insisted on
very regular checkups with Dr. Daley, our internist at the clinic. But
everything went just fine. He seemed to get better all the time. So now
he’s opened his own office, and he’s busy all the time.”
“That’s marvelous,” Ralph said. “I can’t remember ever seeing your
father look so well.”
Jean smiled tenderly. “I guess that about brings you up to date.”
Ralph put his arm around her. “Good,” he said. “Now, let’s talk about
us. Seems to me I hear wedding bells in my head. How about you?”
Jean giggled. “My, what a tender proposal!” she teased.
Ralph drew back in mock horror. “But I’ve _already_ proposed!” he
protested. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”
Jean laughed. “As if I ever could forget,” she admitted frankly.
“But I think we ought to set a date.”
“Let’s see,” she said, deliberately teasing him. “I’ll have to check
my appointment book, but my plans go something like this. I will be
graduated late this summer. And then, as far as I know, I haven’t
anything special planned.”
“You, ma’m, are an idiot!” Ralph laughed. “Very well, we shall plan a
fall wedding--”
“Right here in Elmhurst,” Jean continued.
“You bet! Where else?” he wanted to know. Then he became serious. “I’m
glad you’re going to be so busy this summer,” he added. “Because that
will make the time pass more quickly for us both.”
Jean grabbed his hand. “You’re going away again,” she said suddenly.
“Only for a little while.”
“Oh, Ralph!” she cried.
Ralph squeezed her hand. “This time, only for a few months. I have to
go to Ottawa, of course, to make my report to the government on my trip
abroad. After all, they sent me. I have to account for their money.”
Jean nodded miserably.
“And then I have to look up the government contractor for my wood pulp.
Jeannie, I must get that arranged so that I can sleep easily at night.”
She nodded. “I understand. I mean, my mind understands. But this silly
old heart doesn’t understand one little bit.”
Ralph drew her to him and kissed her. “That silly old heart you’re
wearing these days is mine, you know. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t
understand. I wouldn’t want it to.”
9. Polio Claims a Victim
Ralph stayed for the rest of the week and life for Jean was one grand
whirl. Then Jeannie drove him to town and put him aboard the Boston
train. As she turned the car around and headed slowly for home, her
heart grew heavy. She tried to blink back the tears as she told herself
that they would be apart for only a few months this time. But by the
time she reached home, she was openly crying.
Doris was standing on the front porch when she drove up. Jean turned
her head away, but Doris, who had already seen the tears, put her arm
around her sister’s shoulder. Jean reached up and squeezed Doris’s
hand. Without saying anything, the two sisters shared a moment of
complete sympathy.
Finally Doris said, “Jean, this is terrible, but the hospital called
and wanted you to come right over. It’s mean to make you go right out
when you feel this way....”
Jean grinned at her sister. “Work is the best cure for what ails me,
you know. What’s up?”
Doris shook her head. “They have a polio victim,” she said flatly.
Jean gasped. “Polio!” she cried. “But this is only May! The polio
season shouldn’t start for another month, at least!”
“That’s what they told me,” Doris said dully.
“Thanks, dear,” Jean replied. “I’ll go right over.”
Jean dashed up to the emergency ward as soon as she reached the
hospital. Ted and Sally were bent over a small, frail boy, whose body
was horribly rigid.
“We’ll be lucky if we can keep him out of the iron lung,” Ted muttered
as he worked over the boy.
Jean ran her cool hand across the boy’s feverish forehead. The tiny
victim began to mumble.
“There, there,” Jean whispered. “Try to relax.”
“Take it easy, son,” Ted said.
The two girls made him as comfortable as they could, while Ted worked
on his muscles. For hours the spasms continued, and then gradually they
began to subside. Finally the boy went to sleep.
“Will he be crippled?” Sally asked.
Ted shrugged. “It’s way too early to tell.”
“Who is he?” Jean asked.
“We don’t even know that. Found him down at the railroad track. Mr.
Berger found him as he was driving by and brought him right over.”
Jean gazed down on the dirty, tear-stained face. “He’s so young,” she
murmured.
“Not more than ten,” Ted agreed. “He might be a little older, of
course. He looks as if he hasn’t had a decent meal in months!” He
sighed. “He was brought in in ragged clothes which we had to cut off
and burn in the incinerator.”
“Can we bathe him now?” Jean asked, looking at the dirty boy.
“Yes, but be careful. He’s still having some pain,” Ted answered.
By morning, the new patient was resting more easily in fresh, clean
garments. His face and body were clean, but his hair was still matted
and dirty. He awoke around seven to find Jean sitting by his bed.
“Good morning,” Jean said cheerfully. “Feel better?”
The small boy let forth a stream of profanity.
“Still hurts, eh?” Jean asked. “Well, the worst is over. You’ll feel
better from now on.”
“Get out!” the boy ordered. “Get, and leave me be!”
Jean shook her head and smiled. “Tell me your name, will you? I’m Miss
Craig. Now, who are you?”
The boy looked up at her, his dark eyes flashing. “None of your
business!” he snarled. “Who was that old nosey what brought me in?”
Jean bent over the child. “You’re a very sick boy,” she said. “Mr.
Berger found you down at the station. He saved your life.”
“Thanks for nuttin’,” he said. “I gotta get outta here. I gotta get to
Boston.”
“When you are well, you can go to Boston. Is that where you live? Your
parents’ home?”
“Naw, I gotta pal in Boston.”
“Where’s your home?” Jean asked.
“None ’a’ your business!”
Ted came in and sat down beside the child. “Good morning,” he said
briskly.
The boy swore at Ted.
“I still don’t know his name or where he’s from,” Jean said. “He won’t
tell me.”
Ted nodded. “Riding the rails?” he asked the boy.
“What’s it to yah?” the boy asked.
Ted shrugged. “Well, we’ll send out an alarm. His parents are probably
frantic.”
“He was on his way to Boston,” Jean offered. “You might concentrate on
towns south of here.”
“You gonna call the cops?” the boy asked with terror in his eyes.
Ted nodded. “Something like that. We can’t let your parents worry about
you.”
The boy turned his face to the wall. “They won’t worry. Skip it. But
jest don’t call the cops.”
Ted patted him gently on the shoulder and went to the door. “I’ll see
you in a few minutes. Take it easy.”
“Drop dead,” the boy said and made a rude noise.
Ingeborg came in to relieve Jean around eight o’clock, and Jean decided
to go home for breakfast. When she arrived, she tossed her jacket over
a chair and wandered listlessly into the kitchen where her mother was
washing the breakfast dishes.
“Any more food for a prodigal child?” Jean asked wearily.
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Craig said. “Why don’t you go out on the porch?
It’s such a fine day, I have Jack out there. He’ll be glad of the
company.”
Jean wandered out to the porch and sat down beside Jack. He lay in the
porch glider enjoying the balmy May breezes.
“Hi, Jack,” she said wearily.
“Pretty bad, was he?” Jack asked.
“Well, not as bad as some, I guess,” Jean answered, nibbling on a piece
of buttered toast. “Ted seems to think he’ll need some therapy to
prevent crippling. But we kept him out of the iron lung.”
“What’s he like?” Jack asked. “A real young kid?”
Jean shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “He wouldn’t give his name or
address or what he was doing in town, or anything. He just swore at us.”
“Jeepers!” Jack exclaimed. “How do you like that!”
“We think he caught a freight train into town from the south. He did
say he was going to Boston.” She sighed. “His parents must be worried
to death.”
Jack looked thoughtful. “Polio catching?” he asked finally.
Jean shook her head. “No one knows. Why?”
“Oh, just wondered. This kid ... you think he was riding a freight? I
mean, he looked sorta ... poor?”
Jean nodded. “He was dressed in very ragged clothes when they found
him.”
She finished her breakfast and went up to bed. She felt defeated
and lonely. She grinned wryly at herself, realizing that she was
discouraged about the boy more intensely because she missed Ralph so
much. Slowly she climbed into bed and pulled the light blanket around
her shoulders. After fretting and worrying for an hour or so, she
finally fell asleep.
Back at the hospital, Ted and Ingeborg were still trying to get
information out of the boy. But after blasting them both with
profanity, he merely turned his head to the wall and refused to say
anything. Finally the phone rang, and Ingeborg reported that Mrs. Craig
was calling.
“Jack has been talking to me,” Mrs. Craig said to Ted over the phone.
“He wants to see your polio patient.”
Ted stared at the phone. “Why on earth?” he asked.
He could hear Mrs. Craig chuckle softly. “Jack believes he can find out
who the boy is,” she said.
Ted was still puzzled. “I still don’t understand,” he said.
“You probably don’t remember how Jack came to Elmhurst, Ted,” Mrs.
Craig laughed.
“But of course I do. You told me the night we brought him to the
hospital.” He paused. “I’m beginning to see, Mrs. Craig.”
“That’s right,” she said. “Jack feels that he may be able to talk to
the lad in his own language.”
“I’ll send someone right over to bring him here!” Ted cried. “That boy!
He really gets me! Now how would a youngster that age realize these
things?”
Mrs. Craig laughed again. “My Jack is a pretty smart youngster,” she
said bluntly and with pride.
“I should say he is!” Ted cried. “Now why didn’t I think of that? You
tell him we’ll be right over for him!”
Jack was brought straight up to the emergency ward and placed a good
distance from the stranger’s cot. He propped himself up and turned to
Ted and the others. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll handle this.”
Ted nodded and motioned to the others to follow him. They stood just
outside the door to listen.
Jack looked over at the pathetic figure on the cot. He hesitated. His
natural outgoing affection battled with his ideas of what he must do.
At last, he willed himself to speak roughly.
“Why don’t you drop dead?” he said.
The boy looked around.
“Think you’re pretty tough, don’t you?” Jack baited. “You ain’t so
much!”
The boy stared at him.
“I hear you rode a freight into town.”
“Yeah,” the boy admitted.
“So did I. Some fun, eh?”
There was a long pause.
“Who are you?” the boy finally asked.
“What’s it to yah, punk?” Jack replied. “I don’t go ’round handin’ out
my monicker to every stray what asks for it.”
“Okay,” the boy said, admiration creeping into his voice. Then he
changed abruptly. “What you doin’ lyin’ down? Get outta here!”
“I’m sick, too,” Jack said. “I gotta stay in bed.”
The patient looked at Jack closely. “Take good care of yourself, pretty
boy,” he taunted.
Jack shrugged. “Yeah, I will, thanks. I’m a guy who oughtta take care
of hisself. I’m important.”
“You ’n’ who else?”
“Jest me. Wanna make somethin’ of it?” he scowled at the boy.
The child’s eyes opened wider. “Okay, so you’re a big shot,” he said
grudgingly. “What’s your name?”
“What’s yours?” Jack snapped.
“Timmy. Timothy Lester.”
“I never hearda yah,” Jack said loftily. “Where you from?”
“A bigger place ’n’ this dump,” Timmy said. “New York.”
“Yeah?” Jack let a note of admiration creep into his voice. “Yeah,
really New York? What do your folks do?”
Timmy made a face. His lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly as he
said, “I ain’t got folks. We was in a fire. I was the only one didn’t
get killed.”
“Aw, gee,” Jack said, his quick sympathy overcoming his acting.
“It’s okay. I gotta pal in Boston. He said any time I wanted tah leave
home I should look him up. He has a racket up there. Pretty good
dough, I guess,” Timmy said.
“You in trouble with the cops?”
Timmy made a face at the mention of the law. “Naw,” he said, finally.
“But I jest hate ’em. I never even had a chance to square myself wid
’em. The other guys said I was too little to heist stuff yet.”
“You ain’t got no relatives? Nobody?”
“That’s right,” Timmy said proudly. “Now, shut up. I’m sick a talkin’.”
Jack pulled the bellcord by his bed, and Mrs. Craig and Ted and
Ingeborg came back. “Okay,” Jack said. “I wanna go home, now. But
I’ll be back,” he said menacingly. “You give the gang at the hospital
trouble, and you’ll hear from me ... plenty!”
“Aw, dry up,” Timmy retorted.
Out in the hall, Ted and Mrs. Craig were both triumphant. Ted shook
Jack’s hand. “That was a masterful bit of acting, Jack, old boy,” he
said.
Jack turned his head away. “I’d like to go home. I don’t feel very
good.”
Mrs. Craig put her hand on his forehead to see if his temperature had
risen. He brushed it away.
“No, that’s not what I mean,” he said huskily. “That poor little guy!
Jeepers!” his voice rose, “what kind of a chance does he have, anyway?”
Mrs. Craig nodded. “I know, dear.”
Jack patted his mother’s hand. “You heard the terrible way I talked to
him. I hated to do it. But he thought I was just passing the time of
day. Rough talk, lying and stealing ... they’ve been his school books.
I know. I can remember myself at his age.”
Mrs. Craig ran her fingers over Jack’s head. “Maybe it’s just as well
that he landed here. Maybe someone can do something for him, now.”
Jack caught Ted’s coat sleeve. “One other thing, Dr. Loring,” he
said. “Don’t talk to Timmy about cops or missing persons bureaus. The
one thing a kid in his fix is scared to death of is being sent to
some home. That’s what cops mean to him right now. He probably has
orphanages and reform schools all mixed up in his twisted mind.”
10. Kit at the Capital
In Washington, D. C., summer was well under way. The gentle breezes
from the South warmed the city. A few weeks later, the capital would be
sweltering in southern summer heat.
Frank Howard gazed out of the window of his office. From his desk he
could just see a corner of the park where Washington’s monument and the
Lincoln Memorial faced each other across the glassy pond. He smiled
absently at the small, full, Japanese cherry trees lining the park.
Across the room sat Leslie Merrivale, Frank’s partner. He, too, studied
the cherry trees, but his face was grim. “I never can see those things
in bloom without shuddering,” he said.
Frank turned away from the window and laughed.
“I know what you mean, Les,” he answered. “I used to feel the same
way. The trees were a gift from the Japanese, and the beetles were an
unwitting gift from them. It’s strange how you keep connecting the two
in your mind.” He shuddered slightly as he thought of the fierce battle
entomologists all over the country had waged against the destructive
insects from Japan.
Leslie grinned. “I tell you, I don’t know why people go into this work.
Spring is supposed to be a happy time of year. Everything comes to
life. Old people feel better. Young people fall in love. Babies stop
having colds. And entomologists know that it’s time to go to work. How
many larvae do you reckon are concealed in that elm down there?”
Frank shrugged and lit his pipe. “It’s time you went on a field trip,
Les,” he said. “You’re getting finicky. What’s the matter? Don’t you
like bugs?”
Leslie shook his head in mock despair. “You know what I mean. Sure, I
love to study the little crawling things. But every year, after all the
work we do, just to see those blossoming trees and plants and to know
they’re infested with insects of every type imaginable--it’s a little
discouraging.”
Frank blew out the match and drew on his pipe. “It should encourage you
to see the blossoms. As long as they come out, we know we’re all right.
There still is a good balance. Cheer up, man. People are supposed to be
happy in the spring.”
Leslie studied his partner’s face. “You’re happy enough for both of us
today,” he commented dryly. “But then we’re all not lucky enough to be
in love.”
Frank nodded. “Yes,” he said slowly. “That’s true. Spring is a great
time for sweethearts.”
“And,” Leslie continued, “those of us who are in love aren’t all lucky
enough to have their young ladies come halfway across a continent to
see us.”
Frank chuckled. “You flatter me, Les,” he said. “Kit Craig is coming to
Washington on business.”
Leslie threw down his pencil. “Now tell me, Frank, what sort of
business does a college girl have? I thought their lives were full of
beaux and football games and parties and as few studies as possible.”
“Oh, no. This is serious. Kit is president of her college’s historical
society. There’s a big convention in town this week, and Kit will be
here to represent Hope College.” Frank smiled fondly as he thought of
Kit and of how seriously she would take her mission.
His partner turned back to his work. “Well, you’re pretty lucky, old
man,” he said.
Frank nodded silently as he gazed out of the window. Then he glanced at
his watch and admonished himself for wasting time. Picking up a report
which lay on his desk, he began to study it. He shook his head from
side to side as he read it and then he jotted down notations in the
margin.
Elm blight again! The first signs were being seen on a midwestern
campus. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he scanned the report
further. Saving elms would be a major project for the country this
summer.
Frank phoned the laboratory and asked them to send for samples. It was
almost a futile gesture, he realized. The year before, the labs were
full of samples of rotting elm branches, all destroyed by the same
insect.
“Les,” he said to his partner, “have the same order about the elm
blight inserted in all bulletins. If we can get the towns and farmers
to spray their trees early, we may save them. It’s our only chance.
You can’t kill the beast once he’s imbedded in the tree, but you can
prevent him from attacking in the first place.”
Leslie made a note on his desk memo pad. “Nature gets you at every
turn,” he muttered. “First you discover D.D.T., and then she discovers
a little creature which won’t succumb to the treatment.”
“It’s the balance,” Frank said philosophically. “Maybe there’s a reason
we don’t understand.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Leslie said skeptically.
They worked in silence for the next hour. Then Frank glanced at his
watch again and stood up. “I guess I’ll call it a day,” he said. “Kit’s
train gets in at six, and I want to clean up first.”
“She must be some girl,” Leslie marveled, “to drag you out of this
office before dinnertime.”
Freshly shaved and bathed, Frank drove his convertible into the
Washington terminal at ten minutes to six. He neatly avoided the row
of taxicabs standing before the entrance and found a parking place.
Hurrying, he pushed his way through the milling crowds on the concourse
and went into the waiting room. He looked at the schedules on a
blackboard near the exits to the trains. Kit’s train was on time.
Nervously he adjusted his tie.
The train was announced, and Frank moved forward with the crowd to
the exit. He could see the open platform and an excited group of
young people running towards the doors. In spite of himself he felt a
thrill of pride when he saw their happy, enthusiastic faces. Here were
boys and girls from all over the country gathering in their nation’s
capital. Some for the first time. He was proud of his country which had
sponsored the happy youngsters. And he was proud of his beautiful city
which had so much to offer them.
Then he spotted Kit. She was surrounded by a group of boys and girls,
laughing and chattering and waving to passers-by. She looked radiant
with her short dark curls bouncing in the breeze and her large eyes
flashing. Frank felt proud and yet as shy as a schoolboy as he ran
forward to the gate to meet her.
Kit grabbed his hands, and he pulled her into his arms and hugged her.
“Hi, Kit,” he said.
“Oh, Frank, it’s _so_ good to see you,” she cried. And breathlessly she
introduced him to the young people around her.
He smiled into their young, eager faces, and finally drew Kit over to
one side. “Let me look at you,” he said. “My, but it’s been a long
time!”
“Too long,” Kit said. “I certainly have missed you.”
“Where are you staying? How much of your time do I get to monopolize?
How long will you be here?”
Kit laughed to silence his questions. “One at a time,” she gasped.
“We’re all staying at the Willard. Two professors and their wives are
acting as our chaperons. I don’t know my schedule yet, but there will
be just two hours in the morning and two in the afternoon for sessions.
Then I should be free for the rest of the time.”
Frank reached for her bag and laughed. “Then I can get some work done
while you’re in town.”
Kit caught his arm. “Why don’t you come back to Elmhurst with me?” she
asked.
Frank nodded thoughtfully. “It might be arranged. Now let’s get you to
the hotel and checked in. Then dinner, and then whatever you want to do
in our nation’s capital.”
Kit nodded. “Of course we have to observe regular hours, Frank,” she
said. “I’ll have to check out just as at school if I go anywhere. But
first I want to call Mother.”
“Of course you do,” Frank agreed.
“To arrange about your coming, of course,” Kit teased.
Frank ushered her into his car. “Of course,” he said solemnly.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and started off. He guided the
convertible through the city traffic with ease and pulled up before
the Willard Hotel. “Tell you what,” he said. “You go on in and unpack
and call home and make whatever arrangements you have to with your
chaperons. Then I’ll pick you up for supper in an hour.”
Kit jumped out of the car. “All right, Frank,” she agreed. “But don’t
make it more than an hour. I’m starving already.”
He waved to her as he pulled away from the curb. The doorman, with
Kit’s bag in hand, guided her into the lobby. A group of students was
gathered around the front desk. Kit joined them and nodded to the
doorman to put down her luggage.
“Who’s the VIP, Kit?” one of the girls asked.
Kit glanced around at the group. They were all looking at her.
“Oh, a friend of mine,” she tossed off.
“Well, if you like them old ...” one catty voice commented.
A storm of protest broke forth from the group and Kit relaxed as she
heard admiring comments about Frank from all sides.
Kit shared her room with Helen Smith from a small college in Iowa, and
Bernice Traxler from Northwestern University. Helen was a small, pale
girl who had gone to college right from her father’s farm. Bernice was
tall and dark and striking looking. Bernice was a native of Evanston
and a very sophisticated young lady. Kit wondered fleetingly how
Bernice and Helen would hit it off as roommates.
“Do you girls mind if I tie up the phone for a while?” Kit asked. “I
want to call my mother.”
“Of course not,” Helen said. “I don’t know anyone to call, anyway.” She
laughed, and Kit felt drawn to this honest girl from an Iowa farm.
“Help yourself, Kit,” Bernice said. “I have a million things to do
before I let people know I’m in town.”
Kit asked for the long distance operator and completed her call
immediately.
“Hi, Mother!” she cried into the phone. “The trip was swell! No, I’m
not a bit tired. I got your letter about the wedding and I cried even
if I wasn’t there. Frank met me at the station, and I’m going to have
dinner with him tonight. I wonder if it would be okay if he came
back to Elmhurst with me? I mean, we haven’t decided definitely, or
anything. I just mentioned it.” She waited for her mother’s answer.
“That’s swell,” she cried. “Give my love to everyone. I’ll see you all
Thursday.”
She set the receiver back on the hook and turned to her roommates.
“Is the man who met you at the station your beau?” Bernice asked.
Kit hesitated. “Well, sort of,” she admitted. “We’re old friends, at
least.”
Bernice hummed. “I’d like an old friend like that,” she murmured.
“Wouldn’t you, Helen?”
“I thought he was awfully nice looking,” Helen agreed.
Bernice surveyed her wardrobe which was lying across her bed. “I guess
I can make myself presentable for the evening,” she decided. Then she
turned to Helen. “Can you?” she asked.