Cherry Ames Boxed Set 9-12

by Helen Wells

  Cherry sat up straighter, inquisitive to see where they were heading. She powdered her nose and straightened her hat, with one eye on the road. Presently she saw the tall, flat roof of a house, half hidden in trees but rising above them.

  The taxi followed a gravel driveway which led into large, rather neglected grounds. Several smaller frame buildings stood among the grove of oak trees, but it was the main house which held Cherry’s attention.

  “It does resemble a chateau!” Cherry exclaimed. The lovely old building, surrounded by gardens, gave an impression of dignity, even stateliness. Its tall, narrow style was more Victorian than French, with arched windows and two small formal entrance porches, at front and side.

  “Yes, folks around here used to call it the Chateau Larose,” the driver said. He had appointed himself a sort of guide, as the three of them stood before the house, admiring it. “That’s to say, they called it that when a private family resided here. Before the school started up in here. That’s some years ago.”

  Cherry turned to Lisette, expecting some natural tie might exist between the girl with the French name and the house of a style transplanted from France. But Lisette remained silent, though a stroke of pink appeared in each ivory cheek.

  “I must be mistaken,” Cherry thought. “There are French descendants in St. Louis. The French founded the city—and it’s in this general area. Perhaps Lisette wanted to see this chateau simply because it is French!”

  The driver was waiting for his fare. Both girls opened their handbags and Lisette fumbled.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t bring enough. Or else spent too much—”

  “Never mind,” Cherry said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Maybe I put my change in the inner pocket—” Lisette shook her purse, and as she did so, the bouquet and the heavy book on her arm dropped to the ground. The book fell open. Cherry, who stooped to retrieve it, saw the book snatched away and snapped shut. She was a little surprised at Lisette’s haste—as if she did not want Cherry to see what the book was about. Pretending not to notice Lisette’s strange action, Cherry picked up the bouquet, then turned to the driver and took care of the fare.

  “Thank you very much, Miss Cherry,” Lisette said in a small voice. “I’m terribly embarrassed. I’ll repay you.”

  “I’ll be embarrassed if you do. I’ll tell you what! You may contribute one red rose to the infirmary. Here are your flowers.”

  Lisette smiled shyly at her as if to say, “I like you.” Then, as she stood silently before the house, the girl seemed to forget Cherry, seemed to be in a world of her own. Half to herself she murmured, “Papa and I always dreamed of this old house. Now I’m really here.”

  Cherry was puzzled. “And you came early to look around?” she said sympathetically.

  Lisette turned crimson. She withdrew into herself again and did not reply. Cherry regretted that she had spoken so hastily, though she intended only a friendly interest! Why was Lisette so evasive and touchy?

  “Let’s go in the house,” Cherry said, still puzzled. “I’d like to meet Mrs. Harrison. Will you introduce me?”

  Lisette led the way into the house, which was cool and quiet. No one was in the entrance hall. Lisette knocked on the open door of an attractive reception room, and, since no one was there, went on into the huge sitting room which was Mrs. Harrison’s office. The room was shaded, the walls were lined with books and photographs. At the desk a golden-haired woman sat writing.

  Lisette said quickly, “Mrs. Harrison, here is Miss Cherry Ames,” and then the girl vanished.

  CHAPTER II

  House of Roses

  MRS. HARRISON ROSE FROM HER DESK AND HELD OUT her hand to Cherry. She was a beautiful, tall, stately woman.

  “I’m so glad that you’re here, Cherry Ames. We’re all happy to have you as our nurse. My, what rosy cheeks! You’ll be an inspiration to all of us for glowing health. I hope that you’ll be happy with us at the Jamestown School.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Harrison, I know I shall. I’ve looked forward so much to meeting you.” Cherry’s mother had told her of Alicia Harrison’s graciousness, and she liked her employer at once.

  “Sit down, Miss Ames. No, I’m going to call you Cherry, at least unofficially. If I call you Miss Ames in private, you’ll know I’m scolding you! It’s too bad you were obliged to take the taxi out here. Let’s have some iced tea and get acquainted.”

  Mrs. Harrison put some letters out of sight, pulled a bell cord, and then, linking her arm through Cherry’s, led her to a sofa. A maid came in bringing a tray of tea and cookies, and left.

  “Now then!” said Mrs. Harrison, serving Cherry. “How is your mother? I haven’t seen Edith in several years but we do correspond.” She chatted of her old acquaintance, and then began to talk about Cherry’s record as a nurse. She mentioned Cherry’s excellent references and was pleased especially with Cherry’s range of experience. “Imagine being an army nurse! A school may seem rather tame to you after that, but believe me, you’re going to need to draw on all your experience.”

  “In what way do you mean, Mrs. Harrison?” Cherry asked curiously.

  “For one thing, you’ll have people of many ages to look out for. Our girls range in age from thirteen or fourteen to seventeen, but our instructors are more mature, of course, and some of the domestic staff—maids, cook, man-of-all-work—are quite elderly. You’ll meet them later. Only a few of us are here this early. The others will come pouring in very soon, though.”

  Mrs. Harrison leaned back against the sofa, as if tired, but instantly sat erect again. Cherry waited for her to go on.

  “It’s only fair to explain to you, Cherry, that being nurse to the students—who will need by far the most of your attention—is sort of a double assignment. It won’t be so much a question of medicines and temperatures as, well, being a good psychologist.”

  “I think I understand.”

  “Do you?” Mrs. Harrison looked at her with a surprising sharpness. “You aren’t so very much older than our students. I wonder if you might not be rather young to be in full charge.”

  Cherry felt her cheeks burn rosier than ever. Why did so many people consider that because she was young she might not be capable of handling responsibilities?

  “I’ve been in charge of nursing units before, you know,” Cherry said politely.

  “Yes. You have. That makes a difference.” Mrs. Harrison smiled and offered Cherry more cookies. “Well, perhaps your youth will turn out to be an advantage. The girls may feel closer to a nurse who is near their own age. But you will have to maintain a good example for them.”

  Heavens, had the headmistress heard of some of the scrapes she’d gotten into at Spencer Hospital? Could her mother have mentioned one or two of the more hilarious ones in her letters? Cherry sat still as a mouse, not knowing exactly what to say next.

  “You know, Cherry, the quality of your work will reflect on the school. We all love the school—naturally I do—and the girls have a deep attachment for it.”

  “Mrs. Harrison, I’ll do my very best for you and the school,” Cherry promised.

  “Good, good. Yes, a genuine love—”

  The headmistress stared abstractedly at the bookshelves. Her face with its serene beauty clouded over; she was evidently troubled about something. The silence lengthened. Cherry began to feel she ought to excuse herself. Mrs. Harrison must have a great deal of work to do just before the opening of the term. But her employer glanced up and offered her more tea.

  “I don’t want to overstay, Mrs. Harrison.”

  “No, don’t go. I have some further things to talk over with you—and show you. You’ll have to get acquainted with this house.”

  “Lisette pointed out the garden as we came in.” She did not understand why Mrs. Harrison looked amused. “I enjoyed driving in with Lisette. She seems to be an exceptionally nice girl.”

  Mrs. Harrison answered only a guarded, “Yes, indeed.” It was clear that the headm
istress could say much more about Lisette. But she merely smiled in her gentle way.

  Mrs. Harrison took Cherry on a tour of the downstairs rooms. Old fashioned folding doors led from the headmistress’s office into a large sitting room at the side of the house.

  “As you can see, this is still a private family sort of house,” Mrs. Harrison remarked to Cherry. “I thought it would be a pity to remodel, though we have put in extra bedrooms and baths upstairs. Did you see the other buildings when you arrived? The long, low house is a dormitory for some of the older girls. The two nearer buildings have classrooms and our gymnasium and the arts and crafts studio. That’s everybody’s favorite. This sitting room is my own favorite.”

  What made the big room still more pleasant was the scent of flowers from the garden. Bright patches of roses—white, pinks, reds—showed from the windows, and then Cherry realized that some of the French doors opened onto a conservatory. This glassed in room could be entered either from the small side porch or from the sitting room. Cherry remarked on its vivid, growing plants.

  “That is partly Lisette’s handiwork,” said the headmistress. “The child is so entranced with the garden that she begged permission to tend the conservatory and to transplant some of the flowers. Garden flowers won’t last beyond the first frost, but thanks to Lisette we’ll have roses all winter long in the conservatory.”

  “That takes quite a bit of doing,” Cherry said with admiration. “My mother struggles along in winter with green plants in a sunny bay window. Aren’t you fortunate to have a conservatory!”

  Mrs. Harrison explained that the house had been built about 1885 by a young man who wanted his bride to have “all the latest things.” She took Cherry from the sitting room through a roomy pantry into the kitchen. Here the fragrance of flowers gave way to the buttery aroma of something baking. Cherry met “Auntie” Collier, a good-humored Black woman who cooked and who would co-operate with Cherry whenever a patient needed special foods. Tina, a wiry, gray haired little maid who doubled as waitress, would help Cherry whenever the nurse needed her, said Mrs. Harrison. After Cherry shook hands with these two pleasant, busy women, Mrs. Harrison said that later she would meet Mrs. Snyder, their housekeeper, and Perry, who was chauffeur, houseman, gardener, and handyman. This staff seemed to Cherry none too large.

  There was nothing pretentious about the school, but it definitely had an air of quiet dignity and friendly intimacy. Though the garden was somewhat neglected, this main building was furnished with some lovely antiques. In the dining room on the other side of the house, the mahogany tables and chairs gleamed like satin. A grandfather’s clock in the library chimed every quarter hour. Somebody had set bowls of garden flowers on every marble mantel on this floor. The flowers smelled so fresh that Cherry half expected to see bees and butterflies hovering among them. She was looking forward to a walk in the garden itself.

  “Shall we go upstairs?”

  Mrs. Harrison preceded Cherry up the big staircase, explaining rather apologetically about the infirmary. Suddenly Lisette appeared out of nowhere at the top landing, then vanished. The headmistress was startled.

  “I declare, that girl appears to be all over the house! Lisette?”

  But she got no answer. Mrs. Harrison gently shook her head. She opened a door and invited Cherry in.

  If Cherry was disappointed when she saw the infirmary, she managed not to show it. The simple room was adequate, but after working with modern hospital equipment, and now to work with three white iron beds, a sink, a scale, one medicine chest, and one laboratory table holding supplies, was quite a contrast. Not even a sterilizer, though Cherry noticed a two ring electric stove.

  Then Cherry reminded herself that if anyone at the school became seriously ill, that person would be taken to a hospital. The infirmary was designed to take care of minor upsets. “Besides,” Cherry chided herself, “good nursing never depends on gadgets alone. It requires skill—and ingenuity.”

  “You see, Cherry, your infirmary is right over my office.” Mrs. Harrison showed her the many windows, the pleasant views, at the front and side of the house. “It’s a nice huge room, isn’t it? At this end is your supply closet. It almost overhangs the conservatory. And over here is your own room.”

  This was a square, small room off the other end of the infirmary, shaded by huge oak trees. It might have been a capacious dressing room or infant’s room, and the big room must once have been a bedroom. Mrs. Harrison confirmed this.

  “That’s why the infirmary is rather cut up, you see. It was one of the master bedrooms; there were two other master bedrooms as well in this rambling house. The supply closet is here, and I hope it will be convenient for you. I must admit, Cherry, that the bathroom door sticks on damp days. There’s extra drawer space in this old chest. You may need it when some new linens I ordered arrive.”

  For all its inconvenience, Cherry decided, the infirmary was homelike. Perhaps a fireplace and a breeze rippling the branches of the trees would do her patients more good than a sterilizer. There was more than one kind of nursing, as Mrs. Harrison had said earlier.

  One all important question remained.

  “Mrs. Harrison, what physician will I work with?”

  “Well, the school has been depending on a local man, Dr. Horton Wilcox, for several years now. We do not retain a resident doctor, we don’t really need one. Dr. Wilcox lives only three miles away, and he’s amiable and has had a lifetime of medical experience. The only thing is, you may sometimes have to—Yes, Mary?” Mrs. Harrison turned. “Were you looking for me?”

  A girl stood shyly in the doorway. She was almost Lisette’s age and height, but seemed unsure and rather lost here. Mrs. Harrison went over to Mary and put her arm around the girl. She bent her golden head down to the girl’s lowered face.

  “Why, Mary dear, you mustn’t be shy. It’s always hard for anyone in a new place, at first. Here’s another new friend—our nurse. Mary Gray, Cherry Ames.”

  Cherry smiled encouragingly at Mary Gray, who was not quite brave enough to meet her gaze. She was almost green with homesickness. Mrs. Harrison explained that Mary was here early because her parents had to make an unexpected trip to the West Coast.

  “Mrs. Harrison, may I turn on the radio in the sitting room?” Mary asked. “I—the regulations—I don’t understand them very well yet.”

  “The only regulation is to keep happy and well and make friends, and study. Where’s Lisette? Why don’t you and Lisette go for a walk across the meadow before supper? There’s an old mill that’s worth seeing.”

  “Lisette is reading a book she brought back from the library in town. She’s busy.”

  “That child! Well, never mind. You and I will take the walk to the mill ourselves. Right away, if Miss Cherry will excuse us? Are you ready?”

  “Oh, Mrs. Harrison, would you?” Mary came to life. “I’d love that! May I just change my shoes? Excuse me.”

  She ran out. The headmistress sat down on one of the high, narrow beds.

  “You see, Cherry, there’s an example of what I was attempting to tell you. Mary is far too quiet, far too shy. It’s not a matter for aspirin tablets. I should brief you on others who may give you problems.”

  She mentioned an older, flamboyant girl named Sibyl “who doesn’t mean to make trouble.” She named Nancy who became sick at the very approach of examinations, so that she was unable to take them. At that moment the voices of Lisette and Mary floated in from the hall.

  “Lisette!” Mrs. Harrison summoned her. “Will you show Miss Cherry the rest of this floor? Mary and I are going outdoors.” She turned in the doorway. “Dinner is at six thirty, Cherry, though it will be supper in this weather. We usually have a stroll in the garden afterward. See you then.”

  The headmistress went off, with Mary Gray following along like a leggy colt. Cherry was disappointed to see her go, for she wanted to hear about Dr. Wilcox. Turning in a good performance on this new job would depend in part on what Dr. Wilco
x required of her.

  “Lisette, I don’t suppose you’ve met Dr. Wilcox, have you?”

  “I’m so new here, Miss Cherry, that all I really know so far is the house. Would you like to see these upstairs rooms?”

  Cherry followed, as Lisette quickly showed her the rooms. After the infirmary came the faculty sitting room, Mrs. Harrison’s bedroom, an upstairs study for students, and then several small bedrooms and baths.

  “Is there a third floor, Lisette?”

  “No, just a few feet of space for air and insulation, I think.”

  It was useless to ask Lisette questions about other matters. She was scarcely acquainted here. She talked enthusiastically about the old garden and the chateau’s stained-glass windows of many colors.

  “I love this house,” Lisette said with a sigh, as she later helped Cherry unpack. She added quickly, almost defiantly, “Anyone would love it.”

  It took Cherry the rest of the afternoon to get settled. She hung away her dresses and her crisp white uniforms, and laid out her own thermometers, bandage scissors, glass syringe, and patients’ record book on the infirmary table. By the time she showered and changed, it was time for supper.

  The evening meal in the quiet dining room was pleasant. With so few persons here, only the long center table was set, with flowers and lighted candles. Mrs. Harrison presided. Mlle. Gabriel, an animated woman in black who taught French and Italian, sat between Mary and Lisette. Cherry was seated beside Mr. Alex North, a calm, judicial, reserved man who taught the sciences. He was so reserved that she was hard put to it to converse with him. Mrs. Harrison kept them all amused with her stories of the first year she operated the school. Everything had gone wrong—part of the roof caved in, a student innocently brought in a case of mumps, and the tennis courts had been ruined in the longest rains in years.

  “I remember,” Mr. North said wryly. “No one could have had worse luck. But we weathered it.”

  “Did we?” Mrs. Harrison laughed a little. “I still have misgivings about that roof, even though it was repaired.”