ANNE LINTON'S TEMPERATURE
"Is Doctor Burns in?"
"He's not in. He will be here from two till five this afternoon. Could
you come then?" Miss Mathewson regarded the young stranger at the door
with more than ordinary interest. The face which was lifted to her was
one of quite unusual beauty, with astonishing eyes under resolute dark
brows, though the hair which showed from under the small and
close-fitting hat of black was of a wonderful and contradictory colour.
It was almost the shade, it occurred to Amy Mathewson, of that which
thatched the head of Red Pepper Burns himself, but it was more
picturesque hair than his, finer of texture, with a hint of curl. The
mass of it which showed at the back as the stranger turned her head away
for a moment, evidently hesitating over her next course of action, had
in it tints of bronze which were more beautiful than Burns's coppery
hues.
"Would you care to wait?" inquired Miss Mathewson, entirely against her
own principles.
It was not quite one o'clock, and Burns always lunched in the city,
after his morning at the hospital, and reached home barely in time for
those afternoon village office hours which began at two. His assistant
did not as a rule encourage the arrival of patients in the office as
early as this, knowing that they were apt to become impatient and
aggrieved by their long wait. But something about the slightly drooping
figure of the girl before her, in her black clothes, with a small
handbag on her arm, and a look of appeal on her face, suggested to the
experienced nurse that here was a patient who must not be turned away.
The girl looked up eagerly. "If I might," she said in a tone of relief.
"I really have nowhere to go until I have seen the Doctor."
Miss Mathewson led her in and gave her the most comfortable chair in the
room, a big, half shabby leather armchair, near the fireplace and close
beside a broad table whereon the latest current magazines were arranged
in orderly piles. The girl sank into the chair as if its wide arms were
welcome after a weary morning. She looked up at Miss Mathewson with a
faint little smile.
"I haven't been sitting much to-day," she said.
"This first spring weather makes every one feel rather tired," replied
Amy, noting how heavy were the shadows under the brown eyes with their
almost black lashes--an unusual combination with the undeniably russet
hair.
From her seat at the desk, where she was posting Burns's day book, the
nurse observed without seeming to do so that the slim figure in the old
armchair sat absolutely without moving, except once when the head
resting against the worn leather turned so that the cheek lay next it.
And after a very short time Miss Mathewson realized that the waiting
patient had fallen asleep. She studied her then, for something about the
young stranger had aroused her interest.
The girl was obviously poor, for the black suit, though carefully
pressed, was of cheap material, the velvet on the small black hat had
been caught in more than one shower, and the black gloves had been many
times painstakingly mended. The small feet alone showed that their owner
had allowed herself one luxury, that of good shoes--and the daintiness
of those feet made a strong appeal to the observer.
As for the face resting against the chair back, it was flushed after a
fashion which suggested illness rather than health, and Miss Mathewson
realized presently that the respiration of the sleeper was not quite
what it should be. Whether this were due to fatigue or coming illness
she could not tell.
Half-past one! The first early caller was slowing a small motor at the
curb outside when Amy Mathewson gently touched the girl's arm. "Come
into the other room, please," she said.
The brown eyes opened languidly. The black-gloved hand clutched at the
handbag, and the girl rose. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I don't know
how I came to go to sleep."
"You were tired out. If I had known I should have brought you in here
before," Amy said, leading her into the consulting room. "It is still
half an hour before Doctor Burns will be in, and you must lie here on
his couch while you wait."
"Oh, thank you, but I ought not to go to sleep. I--have you just a
minute to spare? I should like to show you a little book I am selling--"
Miss Mathewson suffered a sudden revulsion of feeling. So this girl was
only a book agent. First on the list of what by two o'clock would be a
good-sized assemblage of waiting patients, she must not be allowed to
take Doctor Burns's time to exploit her wares. Yet, even as Amy
regretted having brought a book agent into this inner sanctum, the girl
looked up from searching in her handbag and seemed to recognize the
prejudice she had excited.
"Oh, but I'm a patient, too," she said with a little smile. "I didn't
expect to take the Doctor's time telling him about the book. But you--I
thought you might be interested. It's a little book of bedtime stories
for children. They are very jolly little tales. Would you care to see
it?"
Now Amy Mathewson was the fortunate or unfortunate--as you happen to
regard such things--possessor of a particularly warm heart, and the
result of this appeal was that she took the book away with her into the
outer office, promising to look it over if the seller of it would lie
down upon the couch and rest quietly. She was convinced that the girl
was much more than weary--she was very far from well. The revealing
light of that consulting room had struck upon the upturned face and had
shown Miss Mathewson's trained eyes certain signs which alarmed her.
So it came about that Red Pepper Burns, coming in ruddy from his
twelve-mile dash home, and feeling particularly fit for the labours of
the afternoon in consequence of having found every hospital patient of
his own on the road to recovery--two of them having taken a
right-about-face from a condition which the day before had pointed
toward trouble--discovered his first office patient lying fast asleep
upon the consulting room couch.
"She seemed so worn out I put her here," explained Miss Mathewson,
standing beside him. "She falls asleep the moment she is off her feet."
"Hm--m," was his reply as he thrust his arms into his white
office-jacket. "Well, best wake her up, though it seems a pity. Looks as
if she'd been on a hunger strike, eh?" he added under his breath.
Miss Mathewson had the girl awake again in a minute, and she sat up, an
expression of contrition crossing her face as she caught sight of the
big doctor at the other side of the room, his back toward her. When
Burns turned, at Amy's summons, he beheld the slim figure sitting
straight on the edge of the broad couch, the brown eyes fixed on him.
"Tired out?" he asked pleasantly. "Take this chair, please, so I can see
all you have to tell me--and a few things you don't tell me."
It did not take him long. His eyes on the face which was too flushed,
his fingers on the pulse which beat too fast, his thermometer
registering a temperature too high, all told him that here was work for
him. The questions he asked brought replies which confirmed his fears.
Nothing in his manner indicated, however, that he was doing considerable
quick thinking. His examination over, he sat back in his chair and began
a second series of questions, speaking in a more than ordinarily quiet
but cheerful way.
"Will you tell me just a bit about your personal affairs?" he asked. "I
understand that you come from some distance. Have you a home and
family?"
"No family--for the last two years, since my father died."
"And no home?"
"If I am ill, Doctor Burns, I will look after myself."
He studied her. The brown eyes met the scrutinizing hazel ones without
flinching. Whether or not the spirit flinched he could not be sure. The
hazel eyes were very kindly.
"You have relatives somewhere whom we might let know of this?"
She shook her head determinedly. Her head lifted ever so little.
"You are quite alone in the world?"
"For all present purposes--yes, Doctor Burns."
"I can't just believe," he said gently, "that it is not very important
to somebody to know if you are ill."
"It is just my affair," she answered with equal courtesy of manner but
no less finally. "Believe me, please--and tell me what to do. Shall I
not be better to-morrow--or in a day or two?"
He was silent for a moment. Then, "It is not a time for you to be
without friends," said Red Pepper Burns. "I will prove to you that you
have them at hand. After that you will find there are others. I am
going to take you to a pleasant place I know of, where you will have
nothing to do but to lie still and rest and get well. The best of nurses
will look after you. You will obey orders for a little--my orders, if
you want to trust me--"
"Where is this place?" The question was a little breathless.
"Where do you guess?"
"In--a hospital?"
"In one of the best in the world."
"I am--pretty ill then?"
"It's a bit of a wonder," said Burns in his quietest tone, "how you have
kept around these last four days. I wish you hadn't."
"If I hadn't," said the girl rather faintly, "I shouldn't have been in
this town and I shouldn't have come to Doctor Burns. So--I'm glad I
did."
"Good!" said Burns, smiling. "It's fine to start with the confidence of
one's patient. I'm glad you're going to trust me. Now we'll take you to
another room where you can lie down again till my office hours are over
and I can run into the city with you."
He rose, beckoning. But his patient protested: "Please tell me how to
get there. I can go perfectly well. My head is better, I think."
"That's lucky. But the first of my orders Miss Linton, is that you come
with me now."
He summoned Miss Mathewson, gave her directions, and dismissed the two.
In ten minutes the heavy eyes were again closed, while their owner lay
motionless again upon a bed in an inner room which was often used for
such purposes.
"I'm sorry I can't take her in now," Burns said to Amy presently in an
interval between patients. "I don't want to call the ambulance out here
for a walking case, and there's no need of startling her with it,
anyhow. I wish I had some way to send her."
"Mr. Jordan King just came into the office. His car is outside. Couldn't
he take her in?"
"Of course he could--and would, I've no doubt. He's only after his
mother's prescription. Send him in here next, will you, please?"
To the tall, well-built, black-eyed young man who answered this summons
in some surprise at being admitted before his turn, Burns spoke crisply:
"Here's the prescription, Jord, and you'll have to take it to Wood's to
get it filled. I hope it'll do your mother a lot of good, but I'm not
promising till I've tried it out pretty well. Now will you do me a
favour?"
"Anything you like, Doctor."
"Thanks. I'm sending a patient to the hospital--a stranger stranded here
ill. She ought not to be out of bed another hour, though she walked to
the office and would walk away again if I'd let her--which I won't. I
can't get off for three hours yet. Will you take her in to the Good
Samaritan for me? I'll telephone ahead, and some one will meet her at
the door. All right?"
He looked up. Jordan King--young civil engineer of rising reputation in
spite of the family wealth which would have made him independent of his
own exertions, if he could possibly have been induced by an adoring,
widowed mother to remain under her wing--stood watching him with a smile
on his character-betraying lips.
"You ought to have an executive position of some sort, Doctor Burns," he
observed, "you're so strong on orders. I've got mine. Where's the lady?
Do I have to be silent or talkative? Is she to have pillows? Am I to
help her out?"
"She'll walk out--but that and the walk in will be the last she'll take
for some time. Talk as much as you like; it'll help her to forget that
she's alone in the world at present except for us. Go out to your car;
I'll send her out with Miss Mathewson."
Burns turned to his desk, and King obediently went out. Five minutes
later, as he stood waiting beside his car, a fine but hard-used roadster
of impressive lines and plenty of power, the office nurse and her
patient emerged. King noted in some surprise the slender young figure,
the interest-compelling face with its too vivid colour in cheeks that
looked as if ordinarily they were white, the apparel which indicated
lack of means, though the bearing of the wearer unmistakably suggested
social training.
"I thought she'd be an elderly one somehow," he said in congratulation
of himself. "Jolly, what hair! Poor little girl; she does look sick--but
plucky. Hope I can get her in all right."
Outwardly he was the picture of respectful attention as Miss Mathewson
presented him, calling the girl "Miss Linton," and bidding him wrap her
warmly against the spring wind.
"I'll take the best care of her I know," he promised with a friendly
smile. He tucked a warm rug around her, taking special pains with her
small feet, whose well-chosen covering he did not fail to note. "All
right?" he asked as he finished.
"Very comfortable, thank you. It's ever so kind of you."
"Glad to do anything for Doctor Burns," King responded, taking his place
beside her. "Now shall we go fast or slow?"
"Just as you like, please. I don't feel very ill just now, and this air
is so good on my face."