A HOSPITAL REUNION
When Ninian Sharp sat down to smoke a cigar at the window of his club it
was with no idea that he was then and there to begin a bit of detective
work which should make him famous. For, though this is anticipating,
that was the reward which the future held for him because of his yielding
to a kindly impulse.
Through him, the helplessness of a little girl won for an almost hopeless
cause the aid of a great newspaper, than which there is no influence
more potent. It took but one hearing of Jessica's story to rouse his
interest and to convince him that here was a "good thing if it could
be well worked up." It promised a "sensation" that would result in
benefit to his paper, to himself, and--for his credit be it said--to
the family of the dead philanthropist.
After he had bidden Lady Jess good-night, the reporter called at the
hotel where Morris Hale was registered and held an interview with that
gentleman. The result of this was pleasing to both men. They had one
common object: the recovery of the missing money which had been entrusted
to Cassius Trent. Mr. Hale wished this for the sake of his New York
patrons, but now hoped, as did Ninian Sharp, that if it were accomplished
it would also clear the memory of Jessica's father from the stain
resting upon it. For the present, they decided to join forces, so to
speak. By agreement, they went together to the station-house on the
following morning, and found Lady Jess looking out of a window with
a rather dreary interest in the scene. But she instantly caught sight
of them and darted to the doorway to meet them, holding out both hands
toward the lawyer and entreating:
"Oh! I beg your pardon for the 'boys'! And for us that we should ever
have let it happen to any guest of Sobrante. Can you forgive it?"
The reporter looked curious and Mr. Hale's face flushed at the painful
memory her words had revived. But he did not explain and passed the
matter over, saying:
"Don't mention it, my child. Odd, isn't it? To think you should follow
me so quickly all this long way. Well, you deserve success and I'm
going to help you to it, if I can. So is this new friend you've made.
Now, are you ready to see poor 'Forty-niner'? If so, get your cap,
bid the matron good-by, and we'll be off."
Jessica obeyed, quickly; taking leave of Mrs. Wood with warm expressions
of gratitude for her "nice bed and breakfast," assuring that rather
skeptical person that these men "were certainly all right, because one
of them had been at her own dear home and her mother had recognized him
for a gentleman. The other--why, the other wrote for a newspaper. Even
drew pictures for it! Think of that!"
"Humph! A man might do worse. But, never mind. This is the place to
come to if you get into any more trouble. There's the street and number
it is, and here's my name on a piece of paper. Now, it's to be put
in the book about your going, who takes you, and where. After that--after
that I suppose there's nothing more."
Ninian Sharp watched this little by-play with much interest, and remarked
to the lawyer:
"That child has a charm for all she meets. Even this old police matron,
whose heart ought to be as tough as shoeleather, looks doleful at
parting with her. I think her the most winning little creature I ever
met."
"You should see her with her 'boys,' as she calls the workmen at
Sobrante. They idolize her and obey her blindly. Sometimes, their
devotion going further than obedience," he added, with a return of
annoyance in his expression.
As she stepped into the street, Jessica clasped a hand of each, with
joyful confidence, and they smiled at one another over her head, leading
her to the next corner where they hailed a car and the reporter bade
her jump aboard.
"Am I to ride in that? Oh, delightful!"
"Delightful" now seemed everything about her. Friends were close at
hand and a few minutes would bring her to Ephraim. That he was injured
and helpless she knew, yet could not realize; while she could and did
realize to the full all the novelty about her. The swift motion of the
electric car, the gay and busy streets, the palm-bordered avenues they
crossed, the ever-changing scenes of the city, each richer and more
wonderful than the other, in her inexperienced eyes. She would have liked
to ask many questions, but her companions were now conversing in low
tones and she would not interrupt. Soon, however, she saw Mr. Sharp make
a slight gesture with his hand and the car stopped. "Our street," he
said, rising.
A brief walk afterward brought them to a big building, standing somewhat
back from the avenue, with a green lawn and many trees about it.
Above the several gateways of its iron fence were signs, indicating:
"Accident Ward," "Convalescent's Ward," "General Hospital,"
"Nurses' Home," "Dispensary," etc., all of which confused and
somewhat startled the country-reared girl. The more, it may be, as, at
that moment, the gong of an ambulance warned them to step off the
crossing before the "accident" alley beside the main building, and
the big van dashed toward an open door.
Jessica gripped Mr. Hale's hand, nervously, and watched in a sort of
fascination while white-garbed attendants lifted an injured man from the
ambulance and carried him tenderly into the hospital.
"Is--is he hurt?"
"Yes, dear, I suppose so."
"Was it like that they brought Ephraim here?"
"Probably."
"Oh! how dreadful! My poor, poor 'Forty-niner.'"
"Rather, how merciful. But come; such a brave little woman as you
mustn't show the white feather at the mere sight of a hospital van.
Ephraim has been well cared for, be sure; and as he has been told to
expect you he'll be disappointed if you bring him a scared, unhappy
face."
"Then I'll--I'll smile," she answered, promptly, thought the effort
was something of a failure.
Soon they entered the building, whose big halls were so silent in
contrast with the street outside, and where the white-clad doctors and
nurses seemed to Jessica like "ghosts" as they moved softly here
and there. Again she clinched the lawyer's hand and whispered:
"It's awful. It smells queer. I'm afraid. Aren't you?"
"Not in the least. I like it. I've been a patient in just such places
more than once and think of them as the most blessed institutions in
the world. The odor of chemicals and disinfectants is noticeable at
first, but one soon gets accustomed to it and likes it. At any rate
I do. But, see, we're falling behind. Mr. Sharp evidently knows his
way well and we must hurry if we'd keep him in sight."
Indeed, the reporter was just disappearing around a turn of the broad
staircase leading up into a sun-lighted corridor. He was quick and
decided in all his movements, and had paused but for one instant to
speak with an attendant at the door before he took his direct way to
Ephraim's room.
"Why, I supposed he was in the general ward" said Mr. Hale, as he
joined Ninian, who had to stop and wait for his more leisurely advance.
"He was, but he couldn't stand it. So I had him put into a private room
and he's much better satisfied. He has money enough to pay for it and if
he hadn't--well, it was just pitiful to see the old man's own distress
at sight of the distress of others all about him. I'd have had to do it,
even if it had taken my bottom dollar."
"True to your class! I've always heard that newspaper men were the most
generous in the world, and now I believe it. Well, count me in, on this
transaction. But when were you here?"
"Last night and--early this morning."
"Whew! If you put such energy as that into the rest of the business
you'll make a speedy finish of it!"
"That's my intention. Well, child, here we are. Put your best foot
forward and cheer up that forlorn old chap."
Jessica had paused to look down a great ward, opening upon that corridor,
and was staring, spellbound, at the rows upon rows of white beds, each
with its occupant, and at the white-capped nurses bending over this
or that sufferer. The wide, uncurtained windows, all open to the soft
morning air, the snowy walls, the cleanliness and repose impressed her.
"Why--it's nice! I thought it would be dreadful; and where is Ephraim?
Can I go in? How shall I find him among so many?"
"Don't you understand? This way, I said, Lady Jess. The sharpshooter
wants to see his captain."
She turned swiftly at that, and the smile he had hoped to rouse was on
her face as she caught the reporter's hand.
"Why--how did you know _that?_ Who told you I was Lady Jess, or
captain?"
"Who but 'Forty-niner' himself? Here he is," and he gently forced her
through an open doorway into a little room, which seemed a miniature of
the great ward beyond. There was the same white spotlessness, another
kind-faced nurse, and another prostrate patient.
"Ephraim! Ephraim! You poor, dear, precious darling!"
She was beside him, her arms about his neck, her tears and kisses raining
on his wrinkled face--a face that a moment before had been full of
sadness and impatience, but was now brimming with delight.
"Little Lady! Little captain! I'm a pretty sort of a guardeen, I am!
But, thank God, I'm not the only man in the world, and you've found
them that can help you more than I could, with all my smartness. Did you
hear about that turn-tail, Stiffleg? Wasn't that enough to make a man
disgusted with horseflesh forever after? Ugh! I wish I had him, I'd
larrup him crossing before the 'accident' alley beside the main well!
And to think you, Cassius Trent's daughter, spent your first night in
town at a station-house! Child, I'll never dare to go home and face the
'boys' again, after that. Never."
"Don't talk too much, sir," cautioned the nurse, offering her patient
a spoonful of some nourishment.
"No, Ephraim, I'll talk. Oh! what wouldn't Aunt Sally give to be here
now! To think she's lost such a chance for dosing you!"
"Forty-niner" laughed and the laughter did him good; though he soon
explained: "They say I'll have to lie here for nobody knows how
long, without moving, scarcely. That pesky old leg of mine did the job
up thorough, while it was at it. Thought it might as well be hung for
a sheep as a lamb, I s'pose. Well, it was the luckiest thing ever
happened--you getting lost and me getting hurt. That's the only way to
look at it. But--Atlantic! How'm I ever going to stand it? Having other
folks do for you and I, that'd give my right hand to help you--useless."
"Easily, Ephraim. If it's a good thing, as you say, why then it can't
be a bad one. Here's your money. You must use it to pay for anything
you want. Or give it all to Mr. Hale about the business. You know."
"Money! I don't want that. All I had they took away from me. Put it in
the hospital safe till I'm ready to go out. But you can't live in a
city without hard cash in every pocket. Oh! dear! I don't see what is
to be done! One minute it all is clear and I think what I said about my
accident being lucky for you; the next--I can't stand it. What is to
become of you, little captain?"
"I'm going to stay right here with you."
"You are? You will?" demanded the patient, eagerly. "You wouldn't
be afraid? But, maybe, you wouldn't be allowed. Hospitals are for sick
folks and old fools that don't know enough to sit a horse steady.
They're not for a happy little girl, who can make new friends for
herself anywhere. No. I guess, maybe, that Mr. Hale'll find you a
place, or get you on the cars to go home again. Oh! child, I wish you
were safe back at Sobrante this minute!"
"And our work not done? Foolish 'boy!' As if I'd leave you alone,
either, when you're ill and--and Aunt Sally so far away."
Ephraim groaned and Jessica looked toward the reporter, who was talking
earnestly with the nurse, just outside in the corridor. She heard him say:
"If it could be arranged it would be a solution of the whole difficulty.
Her board would be assured, and at the first opportunity she shall be
sent to her home. For the present----"
She felt it no shame to listen intently. She knew that they were
discussing herself and what was to be done with her. On that subject
she had already made up her own mind; so she slipped her hand from
Ephraim's and stepped to Mr. Sharp's side.
"I want to say right here in this hospital. I will not make anybody a
bit of trouble. I will mind everything I am told. I'll not talk or
laugh or anything I should not. I'll help take care of Ephraim and
there's nobody who knows him here but me. He's the best man there can
be, and he's old, though he doesn't look it. Please let me stay. Anyway
until all the money is spent. There's enough for a while, I think.
Please."
In answer to the reporter's look, rather than Jessica's words, the
nurse replied:
"Yes, we do often have friends of the patients here. If there happen to
be rooms empty and so to spare. But a child--we never had a child-boarder
before. I'll consult the head nurse and let you know at once. Or,
better why not go and see her for yourself?"
"I'd much prefer," said Ninian, who had more faith in his own
persuasive powers than in hers. "And I'll take Jessica with me."
The result was that the little girl was allowed to "remain for the
present," and was assigned a room very near Ephraim's. Upon her good
behavior, as viewed from a hospital standpoint, depended the continuance
of her stay.
"She can have her clothes sent here, but only what are necessary,"
added the lady, as she dismissed them.
"My clothes! Why--I don't know where they are."
"Whew! What do you mean? I--I never thought about clothes," said Ninian
Sharp.
"Nor I, before, since I came. I had only a change of underwear and
another flannel frock. Ephraim was to buy me more if I needed, though
mother thought I should not. But what I did have were in the saddlebags
on Stiffleg's back."
"And he marched off to glory with them, the old soldier, eh? Well,
that's soon remedied. There are lots of stores in Los Angeles and lots
of girls your size. I'll get a nurse to fix you out, when she can,
and now, back to Ephraim and good-by."