“Meetings don’t start till morning, and I don’t know a soul in
Washington. I’ll just slip down for some dinner and then curl up with a
book....”
Bernice glared at her in mock severity. “Over my dead body,” she said.
“No one comes to Washington and stays home reading. No one who knows
me, anyhow. I’m going to do some phoning, and then you and I are going
on a night tour of Washington.”
Helen sat down on the edge of her bed. “But I haven’t a thing to wear!
I think you’re wonderful to ask me, but really....”
But Bernice was already speaking to a friend over the phone. “We’re two
dateless waifs,” she said. “Two girls from the hinterland looking for
some fun.” She winked at Helen. “Yes, Arnold, that will be perfect.
We’ll be ready in an hour.”
She set down the phone. “You and I have dates tonight. With a
Congressman’s son and friend.”
Helen stared at her. “You mean, just like that?”
Bernice smiled at her. “If you don’t really want to go ... if you’re
really too tired....” she started, regretting her impulsiveness.
Kit sat down beside Helen. There were tears in the girl’s eyes.
“That’s one of the nicest things anyone ever did for me,” she cried.
“But I don’t have anything to wear, and I don’t know how to act with
Congressmen’s sons!”
Bernice smiled. “You know how it’s like in a dorm. If you don’t have a
dress, you borrow it. Right, Kit?”
Kit nodded.
“And as for Congressmen’s sons, just remember that most of them were
raised on some farm in the corn-belt. Right, Kit?”
Kit giggled. “Let’s fix Helen up with a dress,” she suggested. “I have
something she can wear, I think.” And she opened the closet door where
her freshly unpacked clothes hung. “Let’s see,” she said, running her
hands over the hangers. “Try this one.”
Helen gasped at the sight of the white tulle evening frock which Kit
laid across her bed. “I ... I couldn’t!” she said.
Kit smiled. “Of course you can. You probably wouldn’t hesitate if you
were my roommate at school.”
Helen touched the dress gingerly. Slowly she rose and slipped off her
street dress. “I’ll take a shower and then try it,” she consented.
In an hour all three girls were ready for their first night in
Washington. Kit was lovely in a simple powder blue street-length
dress with a matching jaunty little hat. She wore white gloves and
blue slippers and carried a tiny blue bag. Bernice wore a sheath-like
strapless black evening dress. Her hair was pulled on top of her head
and caught with a rhinestone clip. She pulled on long black gloves and
turned to survey her new roommate.
Bernice and Kit were amazed at the transformation. Helen looked like
a fragile doll in the white tulle. Her blond hair was caught up high
behind each ear and fell in curls at the back of her head. Her blue
eyes sparkled as she looked at herself in the mirror.
“Do I look all right?” she asked timidly.
Bernice looked at her and shook her head. “This will teach me to invite
strange women on my dates. What I want to know is who’s going to look
at me with you around?”
“You look beautiful,” Kit agreed.
Helen smiled happily. “I feel as if I do,” she said. “That always means
I’m going to have a good time.”
Frank was waiting for Kit when she came downstairs to the lobby. She
introduced him to Professor and Mrs. Wilson, the chaperons, and then
they headed out into the spring night.
Kit sighed happily at the light of the city around them. “I like this,”
she said simply. “I have a feeling that this trip is going to be
wonderful. Every minute of it.”
“You sound as if you had some doubts before,” Frank said.
Kit told him about her two roommates and the generous gesture Bernice
had made. “It just goes to prove,” she said, “that you can’t judge
people beforehand. I wish I could get over putting everyone into
categories. Just because the girl comes from Evanston and has gorgeous
clothes, I expected her to be a snob.”
“Lots of nice people have money,” Frank said as if voicing a platitude.
“Now, my little proletarian, where shall we go for dinner?”
They traveled out Connecticut Avenue in Frank’s car. “I think for your
first night, the Shoreham,” Frank said gravely. “Just to show you that
wealth doesn’t exclude niceness.”
“Don’t be such an idiot,” Kit cried. “It sounds marvelous!”
Together they walked through the handsome lobby of the uptown hotel
and out to the terrace where they were shown to a table. Frank ordered
dinner while Kit looked about her. She clasped her hands together in
sheer pleasure.
While they ate, there was a floor show to entertain them. Then the
music for dancing began. Kit grabbed Frank’s hand.
“I know I should wait to be asked,” she said, “but let’s dance.”
Frank put his hand over hers. “Let’s wait just a few minutes, Kit,” he
pleaded. “I want to talk to you.”
Kit felt a tingle run up her spine. She shivered.
“Maybe I’m rushing things,” Frank admitted. “But can we talk now about
you and me?”
“Of course, Frank,” Kit said slowly.
“I know you’ll think I’m forcing an issue,” Frank continued, “but I
think you know I’ve waited a long time, feeling the way I do.”
“Wait, Frank,” Kit said, holding up her hand. “Let’s be very sure we
want to talk about this.”
“I know what you mean,” Frank answered. “In a way, it’s easier to go on
just being friends ... with no complications. But, you see, the only
trouble is that I’m in love with you, Kit. You know that, and I can’t
keep still about it any longer.”
It was the first time Frank had mentioned the word love. Kit was amazed
at how coolly he said it, and how naturally she accepted it.
She hesitated. “You make me feel very proud, Frank,” she said finally.
Frank looked away. “Oh,” he said.
Kit laid her hand on his arm. “Wait, I don’t think you understand,” she
said. “I don’t exactly see how you could, when I don’t, myself. I’m
nineteen, and that isn’t exactly young, but it isn’t very old, either.
I had everything all figured out for my future, as you know. To be
perfectly honest, I didn’t exactly plan on being in love ... just yet.”
Frank smiled faintly. “I’m doing exactly what I promised myself I
wouldn’t do. Of course you’re too young....”
“Your words had nothing to do with it,” Kit admitted a little sadly.
“You see, I’ve been the closest to being unhappy this spring at school
that I’ve ever been. I feel like an ungrateful wretch even to mention
it. But school has seemed so ... so pointless. I’ve been restless and
moody and not interested in what was going on. All the boys seemed so
... childish. All the girls were so ... I don’t know. Kind of boring,
with their silly endless prattling about boys and dates and parties.
That’s a terrible way to feel about college but I realized I felt that
way because of you. You’re in another world. And I’m beginning to think
I won’t be happy till I’m in that world _with_ you.”
Frank squeezed her hand. “Oh, Kit,” he said, “I’m not asking you to
love me right off. I just want to know I have a chance.”
Kit looked down at the table. “I don’t know how Jean managed it,” she
said. “Waiting so long, that is.” She looked up at Frank. “If a girl my
age can really be in love, then I really love you, Frank.”
Frank touched her hair with his fingers. “That’s good enough for me,
Kit,” he said, grinning. “Come on. Let’s dance.”
They glided across the dance floor, neither one of them seeming to
touch the ground. And the hours slipped by too fast. Eventually Frank
sighed and led Kit back to the table. “Curfew rings in a few minutes,”
he said. “But at least I know that someday there won’t be a curfew for
us.”
11. Kit and Frank
Kit’s week in Washington flew by. Frank Howard was with her every free
moment, and between times, she attended the lively discussions which
were held in the hotel ballroom. The young students heard some of the
great minds of the country speak on all phases of history, foreign and
American, from the fall of the Roman Empire to the present day.
Kit could hardly believe her ears when Bernice Traxler rose to read a
paper on modern Mexico. The girl, who had seemed so frivolous, rose
before the assembly to deliver one of the most inspiring and factual
reports of the day. Kit wondered how such a popular girl could have
found the time to investigate Mexican history so thoroughly. She
listened, spellbound, while Bernice told the story of politics in
Mexico from the Sixteenth Century and the invasion of Cortez to the
present-day Aleman government.
Helen Smith, too, contributed a paper to the meeting. She spoke,
naturally enough, about the Midwestern states in this country. And as
she talked, Kit began to realize the important role that the farmer
plays. Helen, who had had personal experience in the Four-H Club and
whose father had been an active member of the Grange, convinced them
all that the problems of the American farmer were everyone’s problems.
For a week, both professors and students lectured, compared notes and
discussed historical topics. Kit had no paper to read, but she was
chairman of a discussion group which handled the problems of modern
France. It was an interesting session and set the stage for another one
about modern Germany and the four-power division of that country.
Fortunately, the conference was the last on the schedule. It went on
for two days, while students and teachers alike tried to reach some
conclusion as to the policies of Russia, France, England and the United
States. Discussions became heated, and Kit told Frank afterward that
she felt as if she had attended a United Nations conference.
“The United Nations,” Frank said, “is _really_ our last hope, I think.”
He was escorting Kit into a famous seafood restaurant on the river,
and the odor of fresh fish assailed their nostrils as they climbed the
steps up to the second floor.
Kit sat down and waited for Frank to order for them. She gazed
wistfully down at the Potomac. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Isn’t
that the way people felt about the League of Nations after the last
war?”
Frank shook his head. “Last time we weren’t even in on the deal. This
time we’re one of the leaders.”
Kit smiled a little. “That sounds a little chauvinistic,” she said.
“Flag waving.”
Frank grinned. “I didn’t mean it that way. I suppose you feel more
confident when your own country agrees with you.”
Kit shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said wearily. “I was so
encouraged to think so many students and professors wanted to get
together to talk. But after these two days of endless arguments about
the four-power pact and Germany, I feel that we left everything in a
hopeless tangle. And if we Americans couldn’t agree about it, how do
you suppose the members of the United Nations _ever_ will agree?”
Frank covered his hand with hers. “Because, Kit,” he said seriously,
“the member nations agree on the very most important thing of all.
They are agreeing to talk instead of to throw bombs. Of course they
disagree. And they’ll continue to disagree. But as long as they heave
words around instead of exploding atoms, they are exercising their
rights as human beings. And human beings who act as human beings
should, don’t kill each other.”
Kit nodded. “I agree with that, all right,” she said. “For example,
if Jean were here, she could back me up in this. There are huge wars
which human beings must fight all the time. I’m a soldier in the front
lines. Humans have _natural_ enemies, and I’m constantly plotting and
arranging the slaughter of these enemies. Jean and the doctors and the
other nurses at the clinic do the same thing.”
“Man is _not_ man’s natural enemy. He must learn this. I don’t care if
he’s a German or a Russian or an Australian bushman, it’s his business
to get along with his fellow man.”
“That’s fine, but he doesn’t,” Kit said. “Look at the history of this
country. Young as we are, we’ve had a war almost every generation.”
“The history of this country is an excellent example of our progress,”
Frank said. “Many people think that the tensions which exist between
the North and the South today are as strong as those in Lincoln’s day.
But no one except downright crackpots would ever suggest going through
another Civil War. We talk about our grievances. We don’t shoot about
them.”
“That’s right,” Kit agreed.
Frank grinned sheepishly. “I know I’m an idealist,” he said. “But I’ve
a hunch that before too long man is going to wake up! Someday he’s
going to realize that to ally himself with greed, bad temper and bad
will towards other men is to sign a pact with our natural enemies. He
might just as well suggest that we turn this world over to destructive
insects, infectious diseases and man-eating beasts.”
Kit grinned back at him. “This pompano is delicious, but it’s going to
taste like sawdust if we don’t stop this.”
“Okay, Kit,” Frank said.
“Now, then,” Kit continued, “are you coming home with me?”
Frank thought for a moment. “I can come now with you and stay a week or
so. Or I can come later in the summer. Suppose I leave it up to you?”
Kit smiled. “Come both times,” she urged.
“You’re a forward minx,” Frank said, laughing. “You know I’d like to,
but I can’t. Summertime is our busiest time, and I just can’t get away
both times.”
Kit considered his answer for a minute. “Then maybe you’d better come
later,” she said. “You might have more time, and I’d be settled at home
... you know, unpacked and everything. Then we would have time to do
what we want to.”
Frank nodded. “That might be better.”
They ate their dinner in almost complete silence. It was Kit’s last
night in Washington, and neither of them was happy about her leaving.
“What time does your train leave, Kit?” Frank asked after a while.
She shook her head dismally. “Around six in the morning.”
“Then I suppose you won’t want to stay up very late,” he sighed.
“I thought we might take a drive out Chevy Chase way. The Maryland
countryside is lovely at this time of year.”
“That would be fun,” Kit agreed. “And I don’t mind staying up.”
After dinner, they started their slow drive out to Chevy Chase. Kit
gazed longingly at the pretty houses nestled in the rolling hills. She
pointed to one colonial house which was nearly obscured from the road
by a small woods. “That’s just about perfect, I think,” she sighed.
Frank glanced over at the house. “So that’s what you want for a home.”
Kit nodded. “I think I would like to live outside of Washington.”
“That’s a break for me,” Frank teased. “That means, of course, I can
keep my job. In case we decide to be married someday.”
Kit laughed. “Yes, I guess it does. But do you know why I want to live
here?”
Frank shook his head. “Tell me, Mr. Bones. Why have you selected
Washington, of all places in the country, as the place to settle down?”
Kit grimaced at him. “Because,” she said earnestly, “you can have a
farm right here....”
Frank threw one hand up in mock horror. “So you want to be a farmer!”
Kit pursed her lips. “What’s the matter with being a farmer? But that
isn’t what I meant, and you know it. I mean, you can live in the
country and be quiet and surrounded by the beauties of nature, and
still you’re not an hour away from the heart of the nation. Imagine
living right in the midst of the most exciting events in the world!”
Frank smiled wryly. “Now who’s being chauvinistic?” he asked.
“You’re being awful!” Kit cried. “I’ll bet you never even bother to go
to a Senate hearing or the House ... or anything!”
Frank’s smile faded. “I’ll bet I wish I didn’t have to ... as much as I
do. You seem to forget I have Senate committees to report to, to try to
get money out of, to high pressure into taking some action so that we
all don’t have insect plagues.”
Kit grinned and shook her head. “That was a dumb remark. I’m sorry. But
anyhow I think it would be exciting.”
Frank glanced at her. She looked as young as a high school girl.
“You’re so young and precious and wonderful, Kit,” he said tenderly,
“I don’t know why you bother with an old fogey like me. I’ve almost
forgotten how thrilled I was the first time I entered the Senate
gallery.”
She laughed. “I guess you _are_ an old fogey. But it’s too late to do
anything about it now.”
When they returned from their drive, Frank took her to a small
restaurant for dancing and a light snack. As they moved out on the
dance floor, Kit sighed.
“Why are you always going away from people?” she asked.
Frank shrugged. “I’m not going any place,” he said, holding out his
arms to her. “_You_ are.”
Kit made a face at him as they started to dance. “That’s what I mean,
silly. First I had to leave college. You know, you think you’re all set
to leave and that you never want to see another classroom or textbook
again. But then you do leave, and you just can’t bear it. I mean,
leaving Uncle Bart and Aunt Della and Jeannette Flambeau, my roommate,
and the whole gang. This time it was a little easier because I knew I
was going to come here and see you. But now I have to leave you and
the new friends I’ve made here. Then I’ll get home and next fall I’ll
have to leave Father and Mother and the family. You’re always leaving
someone behind.”
“Or being left behind,” Frank said earnestly. “I don’t want to talk
about it any more. It’s not much fun being left. And if I started to
tell you how I feel about it, I could easily frighten you.”
Kit hesitated. “All right, Frank,” she said. “I guess I’m terrible,
worrying about myself when other people have problems, too.”
He squeezed her hand. “Yep, you’re terrible, all right,” he said. “You
make me feel like a man who’s bet his whole life savings on a horse
race.”
Kit stared at him. “What?” she asked.
He smiled wistfully. “I’m a grown-up man, Kit,” he said softly. “I’ve
been in love ... or thought I was in love ... before. But never like
this. You’re such a child, still. You should have lots of men in your
life. All I can do is make my bet--that’s my whole heart--and stand by
and wait till the race is over.”
Kit smiled slowly. “I hope I’ve been honest with you, Frank,” she
said. “I couldn’t bear to think I’ve done anything to hurt you. But of
course,” she added, “Ralph must have felt the same way about Jean. And
that worked out.”
Frank thought of Jean, the calm, efficient, loyal sister who probably
would be marrying Ralph MacRae soon. Then he looked down at Kit, the
intense, fiery little girl who was out to reform the world. He was
baffled by the comparison, but he realized that the same spark of
loyalty which characterized her older sister was burning in Kit’s
heart.
12. An All Night Vigil
Kit’s homecoming was almost obscured by a great tragedy which had
struck the village of Elmhurst. Although May was not yet over, five
cases of polio had been discovered in town, and people were becoming
panicky.
The four new cases had been sent to the county isolation ward in a
nearby town, but young Timmy Lester stayed at the hospital. His case
was much lighter than anyone suspected at first, and he didn’t need
therapy which the staff couldn’t supply.
When Kit arrived in Elmhurst, she discovered that all public places had
been closed down. No movies were being shown. People were urged to stay
away from restaurants and swimming pools. They were even discouraged
from having large private parties or picnics.
“It’s really too bad,” Doris confessed to Kit. “And a fine summer
vacation you’re going to have in Elmhurst,” she added. “It’s a terrible
break for you.”
Kit smiled at her younger sister. “Never mind about me, Doris,” she
said. “What about the rest of you? You’ve been in school, too. It’s a
shame to ruin your vacation.”
Doris grinned and said, “I suppose you’ll think this is an awful funny
thing to say, but I’m not altogether sorry we can’t gather in big
groups.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Kit cried.
“Well,” Doris said, “I don’t know if Mother told you, but I’m supposed
to try out for a scholarship to Timothy College. It’s a small music
school in North Carolina. Well, anyhow, I was petrified about playing
in front of a large group. But now because of the polio scare, there
will be just two judges who’ll come right here to hear me play. And on
our own piano, too. That makes a difference, you know.”
Kit looked at Doris. “Mother did tell me,” she said. “I think it’s
absolutely wonderful. But she said you weren’t so keen about going
away.”
Doris looked at her sister shyly. “I wouldn’t tell this to Mother,” she
said, “but I want to win that scholarship more than anything else in
the world. At first I was frightened at the thought of going away from
home. But the idea of being among people who love music, and having
music all around me all the time is the most beautiful idea in the
whole world!”
Kit hugged her sister. “You’ll win,” she cried confidently. “You’ve got
to. No one in town even begins to play as well as you!”
Doris smiled with embarrassment. “You’re nice to say that, Kit,” she
said. “Jean said it, too. Of course you’re all prejudiced, but it’s
nice to hear, anyway.”
The telephone rang, and Doris ran to answer it. Kit sat down on the
window seat and looked out over the wooded patch which stood between
the house and the river. Everything was soft and green. The spring
rains had made the leaves and grass shine with healthy color. There
was not even any dust from the dirt road which cut in front of the
Craig farm. She shook her head sadly, as she thought about the families
of Elmhurst, huddled together in fear of the dread disease, and she
thought how wise they all were to cooperate so well in the attempt to
fight it.
Doris came back into the living room and sighed as she sat down. “That
was Jean. She’s supposed to be off today, but she has to work. There is
another case somewhere out in the country, and they’re short-handed at
the hospital.”
Suddenly Kit jumped up and went to the phone. She asked for Jean.
“Look, Jean,” she cried, “isn’t there anything over there that a layman
can do? At the switchboard or scrubbing floors or anything?”
Jean hesitated. “I don’t know, Kit,” she answered. “I can ask Dr.
Barsch.”
“You haven’t been home in over a week,” Kit reminded her. “I’ll bet no
one has. At least I could sit with a patient and holler for help if
they needed a nurse so that someone could go to bed.”
“That’s an idea,” Jean said. “Why don’t you come over?”
When Kit reached the clinic, Jean and Dr. Barsch were waiting for her
on the second floor.
“You wouldn’t think five cases of polio would make the difference,” Kit
said to Jean. “I mean, keep you all so busy.”
Dr. Barsch frowned. “If polio were all we were concerned with, it
wouldn’t be quite so bad. It seems we’re having another epidemic, too.”
“Virus pneumonia,” Jean added. “Three new ones today.”
Kit stared at her. “But I thought you got pneumonia in the winter ...
or spring, at the latest.”
Dr. Barsch shook his head. “Not this brand. It can come any time.”
Kit looked at the doctor. “Well, put me to work. Anything I’m capable
of doing, just let me know.”
The doctor smiled and patted her hand. “It takes misfortune to discover
how fine people can be,” he said absently.
Kit glanced down the hall. “Didn’t I just see Ethel go into that room?
She was in uniform!”
Jean sighed. “Ethel has been back all week. She and Ted just returned
from their honeymoon when ... _this_ happened. She hasn’t laid a rug or
planted a flower at their new house. In fact, she hasn’t even been out
there, herself, in a week.” She shook her head grimly. Then she grinned
at Kit. “Well, I’d better get back to work. Give Kit something to do,
Dr. Barsch. She has a strong back and a weak mind.”
Dr. Barsch studied the face of his weary, red-eyed nurse. “Why don’t
you go to bed for a few hours? You’re just doing a routine check with
me. I can get Miss Peckham to take your place. I sent her to bed for a
few hours this afternoon, so she should be in better shape than you.”
Jean nodded, gratefully. “I’m too tired to argue with you,” she said.
“I know you’ll call me if you need me.”
“And Miss Craig can go right to work down at the switchboard if she
wants to. We usually have the office help go home at five, but because
we couldn’t spare a nurse at night, they’ve been working night and day,
too. You know how to work one?”
Kit nodded. “If it isn’t too complicated,” she said. “Someone down
there can show me.”
Jean started off, but Kit caught her arm. “I have something for you
which should pep you up,” Kit said, reaching in her pocket. “This came
just as I was leaving the house.” She handed Jean a letter.
Jean smiled gratefully and took it. “Thanks, Kit,” she whispered. She
stopped to open the envelope and then leaned against the corridor wall
to read Ralph’s note:
My dearest Jeannie: