In a week's time Effie found herself an inmate in the great hospital
which, for present purposes, we will call by the name of St. Joseph's.
It was situated in the east of London. Dorothy had been trained here,
and was now superintendent of one of the wards.
Effie was to go up for a month's trial. At the end of that time she
would be paid at the rate of twelve pounds the first year, and twenty
pounds the second. Her training would take two years. A certain amount
of her uniform would be also provided, and everything found for her with
the exception of washing.
She did not soon forget the evening of her arrival. She had said good-by
to her mother, had kissed the children, had given Agnes all final
directions, and at last found herself in the cab which was to take her
to St. Joseph's. It drew up presently outside one of the large entrance
doors.
A lady, who was called the Home Sister, received Effie very kindly, and
offered her a friendly cup of tea. The hour of her arrival was about
four in the afternoon. She was then taken up to her own room, and
instructed how to put her cap on, and how to wear her new uniform in the
neatest and most compact way. Her dress was a pretty lilac check, and
she wore a cap with a frill round it, and long tails at the back. Her
apron bib was high to the collar in front, and fastened with straps
which crossed at the back. Nothing could be neater and more serviceable
than the dress.
The kind Sister, having seen that Effie was all right, gave her a
friendly smile, and then led her along several dim passages, up and down
many stairs, until she finally found herself in a long, light ward,
where from thirty to forty women were lying in bed. The Home Sister
introduced Effie to the Sister of the ward, who went by the name of
Sister Kate. Sister Kate nodded to her, said a word or two in a very
busy voice, and then Effie found herself practically on the threshold
of her new life. The Sister who had been kind to her during tea, who had
shown her to her room, and instructed her how to dress, had vanished.
Sister Kate looked far too busy and anxious to be worried by questions;
and Effie, capable and active as she always was, found herself, for the
first time in her life, with nothing to do, and overcome by strange
nervousness. She was too much embarrassed to be of real use. Her face
was burning with blushes. Sister Kate was tired with her long day's
work. There was a great deal to be done to put the ward straight for the
night, and she really had no time to devote to the probationer. The
women lying in their beds seemed to have eyes and ears for no one but
Effie. Between sixty and seventy eyes turned on her wherever she moved,
whatever she looked at, whatever she did. Some of the eyes in the pale
and harassed faces looked kindly and interested, some of them merely
amused, some of them cross and discontented. Effie knew that these women
would be querulous and even rude under the touch of strange and
untutored hands.
At last the night nurses arrived, the bell rang, and Sister Kate came
forward to show the new probationer the way to the dining hall.
Here were several long tables, where the nurses, all dressed exactly
alike, sat down to supper. Effie took her place, and quickly discovered
that the others were far too tired and hungry to pay any attention to
her. She felt too excited to eat, and sat watching the faces of those
around her.
Supper was immediately followed by prayers, and then came bed. Effie's
first evening as a probationer was over.
She did not know whether to cry or to laugh as she laid her head on her
pillow. The reality was so different from anything her fancy had
painted. The practical character of the work, the absence of all
sentiment, the real illness, the real burden of humanity, seemed to
press down upon her.
She had thought, a week ago, when Dorothy proposed that she should come
to St. Joseph's, of the delight of being in the same hospital with her
friend, but she now discovered that she was unlikely to see much of
Dorothy even though she lived under the same roof. Dorothy was Sister of
a ward, and that ward was not the one where Effie was to serve her
probationership. She had the comfort of a very small room to herself,
and was just closing her eyes in sleep, when the handle of the room door
was softly turned, and Dorothy, looking beautiful in her Sister's dress
of soft navy serge, came in.
"So here you are, you poor little thing," said Dorothy, bending over
Effie and kissing her. "I have just come in for one minute to say God
bless you. You have come, the ice is broken. You have a fine career
before you. Don't be discouraged by what you saw to-night."
"Oh, I am so lonely!" said Effie, with a quiver in her voice. "I was
sure when I came here that I should be in the ward with you, Dorothy."
"No, my dear, that was not possible," replied Dorothy. "Of course I
should have been very glad if it could have been arranged, but I had no
voice in the matter. As it cannot be, dearest, try to believe that this
is just the best thing that could have happened to you, to be flung at
once, as it were, on your own feet. You will thus gain experience
without having a crutch like me to lean upon. I know the first night is
very bad, but you will soon learn your duties and become intensely
interested in the life. You are with Sister Kate, are you not?"
"Yes," said Effie. "She scarcely spoke to me--I never felt so awkward in
my life, and I know that I was never half so clumsy."
"Of course," said Dorothy, with a smile. "Don't I know the feeling well?
It all passes over, my love, and far more quickly than you have the
least idea of. Remember you have got the power--those little hands are
capable, that head holds a steady and sensible brain. Why, Effie, you
have gone through far worse times than this without flinching. Surely,
surely you are not going to break down now?"
"Oh, I won't, I won't!" said Effie, with a sob; "but I felt lonely, very
lonely, and it was so very kind of you to come to see me."
"Of course I have come to see you--I am only too delighted to do
anything in my power for you. I would have rushed down to share your cup
of tea on your arrival, but a bad case was just being brought into the
ward, and I could not leave. Now, I must go to bed myself, or I shan't
be fit for work to-morrow. Good-night, Effie. I have arranged that you
are to spend every second Sunday at home."
"Oh, how good you are--how thankful I am!" exclaimed Effie.
Dorothy was leaving the room, when she turned back.
"I forgot to tell you that you are very lucky to be under Sister Kate,"
she said. "There is not a nurse in the whole hospital who trains as she
does, and her probationers always get the best certificates at the end
of the two years of training."
"She looks so severe and hard," said Effie.
"She is a little severe, and some people may call her hard, but she has
a tender heart under all that strict, somewhat cold manner, and then
she is so just. My dear, when you know more of hospital life you will be
thankful that you are with a just and patient Sister. Sister Kate is
both. She will soon recognize you, Effie, for what you are. Now
good-night, my love."
Dorothy went away, and soon afterward Effie fell asleep.
The next morning she was awakened by a bell, at what seemed to her
something like the middle of the night. She had to dress herself
quickly, and then go into the ward and begin her duties.
She found, somewhat to her surprise, that she had to begin her nurse's
life as a sort of maid-of-all-work; she had to scrub floors, to clean
grates, to polish handles--it seemed to her that she never had a moment
to herself from morning till night. Her feet felt very sore, her back
ached. Once or twice she felt so dreadfully fagged that she wondered if
she could keep up. But through it all, growing greater and greater as
the days went on, there came a sense of full satisfaction, of something
accomplished, something done, of the feeling that she was being trained
thoroughly and efficiently, so that at the end of her time of probation
she might be able to say, "There's one thing which I can do _well_."
When the first Sunday came she was glad to hurry home. She went back
brimful of news, and looked forward to the quiet time in her mother's
little parlor with great delight.
Mrs. Staunton was glad to see her. The children were all dressed in
their black frocks, and looked neat and comfortable. George was in the
room. It seemed to Effie as if she did not recognize his coat--she
wondered if it could possibly be a new one.
She arrived at home a little before the midday dinner, and presently the
landlady came in to lay the cloth. This used to be Agnes' occupation.
Effie did not say anything while the woman was in the room, but when she
went out she remarked on this change.
"Oh, it's all right," said Mrs. Staunton. "I pay half a crown a week
extra, and the landlady now waits on us. It is much more comfortable, I
assure you, Effie, and worth the extra bit of money."
Effie colored; she gave Agnes a reproachful glance, but did not say
anything.
Agnes turned her back with a little sniff.
"Why, Effie," she said suddenly, "How coarse your hands have got! What
in the world have you been doing?"
Effie laughed.
"Polishing, cleaning, and scrubbing," she said. "In short, doing very
much what Mrs. Robinson's little maid of all-work does down in the
kitchen here."
"Oh, dear, dear!" exclaimed Agnes; "if those are a nurse's duties, you
won't catch me going in for that sort of profession."
"It's awfully interesting," said Effie. "I have, of course to begin at
the bottom, but I like it very much."
While she was speaking, there came a knock at the door. George went to
open it, and a young man came in. George brought him up to introduce him
to his mother.
"This is my great friend, Fred Lawson, mother," he said. "Effie, let me
introduce you to Lawson--Lawson, this is my sister Effie."
Effie bowed. She felt the color rushing all over her face. Lawson was
the man whom George had wronged in some mysterious way. Lawson was the
man for whom that dreadful £250 was required.