by Helen Wells
“But is it not true,” Mlle. Gabriel said in her quick way, “you yourself have told me, even then girls here had the wonderful time? So loyal!”
They laughed and reminisced. Presently, after coffee in the sitting room, all of them went out into the garden for a stroll. Cherry loved being outdoors in the summer dusk. The sky had turned violet blue, and in this light, the colors of the leaves, grass, and flowers were intensified. The red roses glowed almost like live coals and the white roses appeared luminous. Twilight heightened, too, the perfumes of the garden.
“What a delicious place!” Cherry exclaimed.
“But neglected,” Mrs. Harrison said. “See how it has gone to seed. This garden has been neglected for years, I’m afraid.”
“Whoever planted it, planted well,” Mr. North remarked. He ripped a stem open and examined it. “These are old plants.”
“Yes, indeed. Well, we are lucky to have Lisette here to take an interest in it.”
Lisette flushed, embarrassed. She invited Cherry and Mary Gray to see the many varieties of roses, explaining, “That’s why the house was originally called the Chateau Larose.”
The roses were truly extraordinary—not even Lisette knew the names of all of them. Nor could anyone identify the silvery white spray of blossoms. Cherry took a deep breath of their unusual and lingering scent.
“Aren’t two or three of these the same flowers we found in Molly Miller’s bouquet?”
“I’m not sure.” Lisette looked closely at the fawn rose and at the white spray.
Mary suggested shyly, “Why don’t you ask Mr. North?” Lisette ran indoors and returned with a silvery flower from Molly Miller’s bouquet, to show to Mr. North.
The science teacher did not recognize it either. He ventured a guess that the silvery white spray was not a native flower. He compared it to other species and went into such detail that Cherry’s attention wandered. She found herself looking up at the infirmary windows.
In the rapidly fading light, she thought she saw a window that she had not noticed from indoors. It was a diamond shaped window of stained glass, the kind that might or might not open.
When, later, she had said good night to the others and come upstairs, Cherry looked for the diamond-shaped window but could not find it. Perhaps, in looking at the window in the first shadows of evening, she might have misjudged its location. She must look again sometime by daylight, purely out of curiosity, when she was in the garden. It was quite a pretty window, with panes of purple, rose, yellow, and green.
“Like a harlequin’s tights,” Cherry thought, yawning.
She was suddenly so sleepy that she was tempted to go to bed without washing her face. Good nurse that she was, however, she scrubbed her face and teeth before tumbling into bed.
But it was a strange bed, in a strange house, and Cherry could not go to sleep at once. She listened to unaccustomed creaks and gusts of breeze, thinking what a full day it had been. Cherry drowsed, wondering about the diamond window and puzzling over the inconsistent Lisette. Lisette’s intense interest in the cultivation of flowers was rather odd and unusual for a girl of her age. The last thing she was aware of was the scent of flowers, deepening with the night.
CHAPTER III
Something Is Missing
RIGHT AFTER LABOR DAY, GIRLS BEGAN TO ARRIVE IN A rush at the Jamestown School. They poured in in ones and twos and threes, traveling together if they were old pupils, but the majority of them were brought by their parents. Laughter and chatter filled the house, and girls overflowed into the dormitory building and on the sunny grounds. Their noisy reunions reminded Cherry of her own festive times with her Spencer Club crowd, though Mr. North referred to them as “the stampede.” Mrs. Harrison declared everyone would actually settle down, once classes began. In the meantime, she beamed like a girl herself, introducing all the new people around, including Cherry. The first day or two of the new term resembled a house party, what with comparing snapshots of summer vacations and trying on one another’s new clothes and nobly “getting along” with one’s assigned roommates.
Not every girl was happy. Cherry suspected that some of the smiles were bravely put on for a front. Cliques began to form. The leaders of inner circles were on the whole too well mannered to leave any girl out—Mrs. Harrison would not have permitted such unkindness. Even Sibyl Martin, who was sophisticated for sixteen and the most glamorous girl in the school, took time out to be sweet to the freshmen. But the going was hard for shy girls, especially for the new students. Of these, Cherry was most concerned about Lisette.
The curious thing was that Lisette herself did not seem at all concerned. If she had been homesick, as little Mary Gray obviously was, or if she had drawn a difficult girl for a roommate, Cherry might have understood, but there seemed to be no reason why Lisette Gauthier should hold herself aloof from the other girls. That was a sure way to make people say, “Who does she think she is?” and get herself disliked. Yet Lisette wore a thoughtful, almost sad air. It was not simply unfriendliness, then.
Cherry was tempted to drop a word of warning to her. “I don’t want to speak out of turn, though,” Cherry thought. “Wish I could understand what’s going on in her secretive little head.”
Cherry was disturbed by an incident which she witnessed when the first classes were over for the day.
She was so busy putting the infirmary in tiptop working order and getting acquainted with the girls who popped in, that she hardly left the infirmary except for meals. However, she had to consult with the cook about diets for several girls whose weight needed watching. On her way through the sitting room, she glimpsed Lisette puttering in the conservatory. Two girls were with her. Cherry paused to say hello, then listened in disbelief.
“I think you’re mean, Lisette,” said Betty Taylor, who was as agreeable as she was freckled. “You could at least tell us the name of that flower.”
“I told you, I don’t know its name.” Lisette was barely short of being rude. “Nancy, please give back the trowel. I need it for transplanting. Please!”
Teasingly, Nancy wriggled away and put the trowel on the farthest ledge. Lisette had to walk over to get it. She was devoting all her spare time to bringing indoors several garden plants to protect them from coming autumn frosts. Cherry wished that Lisette would pay more attention to getting off on the right foot with her classmates and making friends.
“Lizzie’s in a tizzy,” Nancy remarked, and Betty Taylor smiled an impish, freckled grin. “That is Sibyl’s opinion of you, if you must know. Lizzie, we forgive you. Come out and knock some balls across the net with us. It’s more fun with three than two.”
“Sorry, but I’m right in the middle of transplanting these flowers, can’t you see?”
“Oh, nuts. A few old flowers aren’t so terribly important as all that.” Nancy plucked a flower and stuck it in her mouth. “Look, kids, I’m Carmen.”
Lisette looked as if she could murder them with pleasure. Cherry decided that if she was going to step in, this was the moment.
“Can you spare a rose for the infirmary? Hello, Carmen.” She grinned at Nancy, then at Betty. “Don José, I presume? I’m feeling a bit like Florence Nightingale myself.”
“That’s a cute nurse’s cap,” Betty said. “Is it your school cap, Miss Cherry?”
“No, this is the conventional cap. Lisette, if you’d go outdoors with these girls, they might stop calling you Lizzie.”
“But, Miss Cherry, I told you I have to make this year count! These flowers are important to me. Of course I’d like to play tennis with them—”
And Lisette remained in the conservatory.
Maybe, Cherry thought, she was an unsociable genius, or just plain contrary. Whatever Lisette’s basic personality, she was less lighthearted than the other girls. Cherry was puzzled, too, by Lisette’s almost slavish devotion to growing flowers.
Her name came up in the faculty sitting room, too. Cherry dropped in there on Thursday evening for a visit and
some advice. Mrs. Harrison had requested her to write a set of rules on good health practices for the school paper. Cherry had done so and now wanted the instructors’ comments. Everyone said, “Fine,” and insisted that the new nurse stay and chat. Cherry was glad of a chance to become better acquainted with the aristocratic and learned woman, Mrs. Curtis, who taught English and literature. As usual, Mlle. Gabriel was knitting and talking, flitting from topic to topic. Mr. Phelps, who taught mathematics, glanced at her over his chess game with Mr. North as if he could not take Mademoiselle too seriously. But she could make Mr. North chuckle, and that was an achievement.
“—so I say afterward, of course in private, to my student, ‘My dear child, if you ever visit Paris, never, never try to speak French. Because, ma petite, you would break the ears of true Frenchmen. Your accent? Extraordinary!’”
“Did she weep?” asked Alex North. “I keep a blotter handy for female tears.” He winked at Cherry.
“Ah, but one student I have, she is a gem! What beautiful French! Do you all know little Lisette Gauthier?”
“The moody one,” said Mrs. Curtis.
“The different one,” Mlle. Gabriel pounced.
“She is a bright and alert girl,” Mrs. Curtis said impartially. “She stands rather apart from the rest, though.”
Cherry ventured to say, “Lisette takes a little knowing, don’t you think?”
“Ah, yes!” Mlle. Gabriel beamed at her. “Lisette is not all on the surface; she is a serious one. She must read much, particularly in French. She has an unusual command of the French language—yes, yes, Alex, it’s true she is of French descent. But she tells me she has never been to France or French Canada. She has stuffed herself with description of the lovely French countryside.” Mlle. Gabriel said wistfully, “She pointed out to me a bergamot tree in the garden.”
Lisette and her garden! Cherry was about to ask where the rare citrus tree stood, when, from the hall, came a shriek and a crash of someone falling. The instructors rushed to open the door. The nurse sped to the scene of the accident first.
Tina, the elderly maid, evidently had climbed up on a stepladder to change a light bulb, caught her heel in a rung, and now lay twisted in pain on the floor.
“Don’t touch her, anyone,” Cherry cautioned.
She eased Tina’s shoe off and released her foot. With gentle, skilled hands she probed to see whether Tina had had an electric shock, and whether any of her brittle bones were broken. Cherry carefully rolled her over on the floor to unpin Tina’s left arm. She must have tried to brace herself, stiff-armed, then fallen on the arm with her entire weight. Under the skin Cherry felt the sharp point of a splintered bone. Tina’s forearm was broken.
“It hurts!” Tina moaned. “Oh!”
“There, there, we’ll make you comfortable,” Cherry murmured. She saw Mr. North and Mademoiselle, watching. “Mademoiselle, will you please telephone for the doctor to come at once?”
The arm was swelling rapidly. Since they must not risk moving Tina until a temporary splint was applied, Cherry hurried into the infirmary. But applying a splint would take time. First she caught up a blanket, chose a mild sedative, and brought it along to Tina with a glass of water.
“This will help the pain, Tina.” Cherry administered the sedative and covered her with the blanket, keeping her warm to combat shock. She managed to ease the hovering instructors out of the way, and requested that someone notify Mrs. Harrison. She bent down and smiled encouragingly at her patient.
“Feel better?” The wiry little woman nodded. “If it starts hurting very badly again, tell me. The doctor will be here soon.”
Cherry went back to the infirmary and searched in haste for wooden splints; her hands shook. Silly to be tense about her first patient on a new job! She had taken care of fractures before. It was just that working in an unaccustomed, sparsely supplied ward, for a doctor whom she had not yet met, was trying. Her main concern, however, was for her patient. Cherry located splints but they were too short.
Well, she would have to make do with a pillow or blanket, folded rigid. Cherry folded a blanket to many thicknesses, making it long enough to reach beyond Tina’s forearm, padded it well with sterile cotton, and returned with it to the hall. Kneeling beside the woman, she put the cotton side next to Tina’s arm, and firmly but gently secured the splint to the arm with gauze bandages. Cherry worked fast, and cautiously; she did not want the sharp ends of the broken bone to move and do further damage.
“There! Now it’s safe to move you.”
Mr. North and Mr. Phelps, at the nurse’s direction, carefully picked Tina up. With Cherry holding the splinted arm motionless, the men carried Tina to one of the infirmary beds.
“Now I’m going to make you some hot tea, Tina, and then I want you to sleep.”
Half an hour later her patient was dozing. Lisette had heard of the accident and come in to ask Cherry if she could help. She couldn’t, but it was thoughtful of her to offer, Cherry thought. The headmistress had looked in and left. Still the doctor had not arrived. Wasn’t he coming tonight? Mrs. Harrison had said he had a very full practice. Perhaps Dr. Wilcox would not come until morning.
Cherry was settled in a chair, watching her patient carefully, when very late someone tapped at the infirmary door. Cherry softly went to the door. There stood, to her surprise, a young man.
“I’m Dr. Wilcox,” he said.
“You’re Dr. Wilcox? I beg your pardon—” He looked little older than herself—just about old enough to be an intern, if that. Cherry felt confused. Mrs. Harrison had said that Dr. Wilcox was an elderly man.
“Didn’t someone telephone for Dr. Wilcox?” the young man asked. He was, Cherry noticed for the first time, carrying a physician’s satchel.
“I’m the new school nurse, Cherry Ames, sir—uh—Doctor.” She held the door open for him. She had better observe the medical courtesies, in any case.
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Harrison told me about you on the telephone,” the young man said cheerfully. He glanced over at Tina, who was asleep. A little color had returned to her cheeks. “Mrs. Harrison told me a lot of interesting things about you, Miss Cherry Ames.”
“Well, she didn’t tell me about you!” Cherry said impulsively. “I hope you won’t think me rude, or presumptuous, Mr.—Dr. Wilcox, but I expected to see a much older man.”
The young man grinned. “That’s my father. He’s Dr. Horton Wilcox and I’m Dr. Alan Wilcox. Just recently completed my internship and my father asked me to assist him. His practice has grown too large for one man. Father is really the school doctor, but I often come over here to help out.”
So that was what Mrs. Harrison had started to explain the other day when Mary Gray had interrupted. Cherry felt sure that the students preferred this engaging young man to any other physician. Dr. Alan was so young and vigorous that his presence acted as a tonic. Besides, he had sparks of mischief in his eyes, for all his professional manner. Probably all the girls were half in love with him. Cherry liked him herself and smiled at him. Dr. Alan smiled right back. Then they got down to work.
“The patient seems to be resting comfortably,” the young doctor said. He and Cherry moved over to the bedside. “What happened, Miss Ames?”
“A fall resulting in a fracture, Dr. Wilcox. As you see, I put on a temporary splint.” Cherry watched anxiously as Dr. Alan very gently examined the splint. She hoped that he approved of what she had done, for she wanted to merit this young man’s respect.
He seemed satisfied. He asked what else Cherry had done, and when she reported giving a mild sedative he seemed satisfied about that, too.
“I’m afraid that we’ll have to wake our patient.”
Cherry did so, took Tina’s pulse, which was normal, and bathed her face and hands. While the nurse did this, Dr. Alan opened his kit and laid out his instruments and wooden splints. Cherry rolled over the enamel table for his use and assisted him. Strangers though they were, they worked together smoothly right from the
start.
Dr. Alan confirmed that it was a simple fracture. He found Tina in good condition and not uncomfortable. He examined the arm carefully for any break in the skin or any sign of infection, found none, then very, very gently felt the arm to learn approximately what the type (or pattern) of the bone dislocation was. Cherry waited to learn whether he would want Tina taken to the hospital tonight, but Dr. Alan said, “With good nursing care, this can wait until morning.”
Tomorrow at the hospital the arm would be X-rayed, Tina would be given an anaesthetic, then the bone would be manipulated and set into place, and finally a plaster cast put on the arm to immobilize it while the bones knit. For now, Dr. Alan cradled the broken arm in a sturdy wooden splint which was gauze-covered. Cherry bandaged this splint into place.
“Getting tired, Tina?” Dr. Alan patted her free hand. “Try to have a good, long sleep. Nurse Ames will put you into bed and give you a warm drink. More mild sedation as she needs it, Nurse. I’ll write out instructions. I’ll come back tomorrow, about nine. And, Tina, don’t worry about how soon you’ll be able to work again. I’ll explain to Mrs. Harrison.”
Doctor and nurse withdrew to the far end of the big room for instructions about Tina and a few moments of discussion.
“You’re a very good nurse, Miss Ames.”
“Thank you, Dr. Wilcox.”
“You’d better call me Dr. Alan. Everybody does, so as not to confuse me with my father.” He grinned easily. “In that case, don’t you think I could call you Miss Cherry?”
“I think it could be arranged, Doctor.”
“I wish I had a good nurse like you to help me out with my other patients in emergencies.” He explained that he could not afford a nurse of his own yet. “Do you suppose Mrs. Harrison could spare you occasionally? It’s awfully hard, way out here in the country, to get an R.N., and in serious cases—”
Cherry understood him. “If it’s an emergency, yes. I would be willing to ask Mrs. Harrison for permission to leave the school grounds. Of course I can’t predict what she’d say. I do have to be available here at all times,” Cherry said responsibly, “or at least not far away.”