|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 64
"Boys," he said, "it's a poor leader who is afraid to take chances
with his men. I'm going first"--he said fir-rst. "It's a small
thing, as I've told you--a bit of skin and it's over. Go in smiling
and come out smiling! Are you ready, sir?" This to the _interne_.
That was a great day in the ward. The inmates watched Father Feeny
and the _interne_ go behind the screens, both smiling, and they
watched the father come out very soon after, still smiling but a
little bleached. And they watched the line patiently waiting outside
the door, shortening one by one. After a time the smiles were rather
forced, as if waiting was telling on them; but there was no
deserter--only one six-foot youth, walking with a swagger to
contribute his little half inch or so of cuticle, added a sensation
to the general excitement by fainting halfway up the ward; and he
remained in blissful unconsciousness until it was all over.
Though the _interne_ had said there was no way back, the first step
had really been taken; and he was greatly pleased with himself and
with everybody because it had been his idea. The Probationer tried
to find a chance to thank him; and, failing that, she sent a
grateful little note to his room:
Is Mimi the Austrian to have a baked apple?
[Signed] WARD A.
P.S.--It went through wonderfully! She is so cheerful
since it is over. How can I ever thank you?
The reply came back very quickly:
Baked apple, without milk, for Mimi. WARD A.
[Signed] D.L.S.
P.S.--Can you come up on the roof for a little air?
She hesitated over that for some time. A really honest-to-goodness
nurse may break a rule now and then and nothing happen; but
a probationer is only on trial and has to be exceedingly
careful--though any one might go to the roof and watch the sunset.
She decided not to go. Then she pulled her soft hair down over her
forehead, where it was most becoming, and fastened it with tiny
hairpins, and went up after all--not because she intended to, but
because as she came out of her room the elevator was going up--not
down. She was on the roof almost before she knew it.
The _interne_ was there in fresh white ducks, smoking. At first they
talked of skin grafting and the powder that had not done what was
expected of it. After a time, when the autumn twilight had fallen on
them like a benediction, she took her courage in her hands and told
of her visit to the house on the Avenue, and about the parrot and
the plot.
The _interne_ stood very still. He was young and intolerant. Some
day he would mellow and accept life as it is--not as he would have
it. When she had finished he seemed to have drawn himself into a
shell, turtle fashion, and huddled himself together. The shell was
pride and old prejudice and the intolerance of youth. "She had to
have an alibi!" said the Probationer.
"Oh, of course," very stiffly.
"I cannot see why you disapprove. Something had to be done."
"I cannot see that you had to do it; but it's your own affair, of
course. Only----"
"Please go on."
"Well, one cannot touch dirt without being soiled."
"I think you will be sorry you said that," said the Probationer
stiffly. And she went down the staircase, leaving him alone. He was
sorry, of course; but he would not say so even to himself. He
thought of the Probationer, with her eager eyes and shining hair and
her warm little heart, ringing the bell of the Avenue house and
making her plea--and his blood ran hot in him. It was just then
that the parrot spoke on the other side of the chimney.
"Gimme a bottle of beer!" it said. "Nice cold beer! Cold beer!"
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|