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Page 74
The fine edge of the Nurse's joy was dulled. It is a characteristic
of great happiness to wish all to be well with the world; and here
before her was dry-eyed despair. It was Liz who finally decided her.
"I guess I'll sit up with her to-night," she said, approaching the
table with the peculiar gait engendered of heel-less hospital
carpet-slippers and Mother Hubbard wrappers. "I don't like the way
she watches the ceiling."
"What do you mean, Elizabeth?" asked the Nurse.
"Time I had the twins--that's before your time," said Liz--"we had
one like that. She went out the window head first the night after
the baby came, and took the kid with her."
The Nurse rose with quick decision.
"We must watch her," she said. "Perhaps if I could find--I think
I'll go to the telephone. Watch the ward carefully, Elizabeth, and
if Annie Petowski tries to feed her baby before three o'clock, take
it from her. The child's stuffed like a sausage every time I'm out
for five minutes."
Nurses know many strange things: they know how to rub an aching back
until the ache is changed to a restful thrill, and how to change the
bedding and the patient's night-dress without rolling the patient
over more than once, which is a high and desirable form of
knowledge. But also they get to know many strange people; their
clean starchiness has a way of rubbing up against the filth of the
world and coming away unsoiled. And so the Nurse went downstairs to
the telephone, leaving Liz to watch for nefarious feeding.
The Nurse called up Rose Davis; and Rosie, who was lying in bed with
the Sunday papers scattered around her and a cigarette in her
manicured fingers, reached out with a yawn and, taking the
telephone, rested it on her laced and ribboned bosom.
"Yes," she said indolently.
The nurse told her who she was, and Rosie's voice took on a warmer
tinge.
"Oh, yes," she said. "How are you?... Claribel? Yes; what about
her?... What!"
"Yes," said the Nurse. "A girl--seven pounds."
"My Gawd! Well, what do you think of that! Excuse me a moment; my
cigarette's set fire to the sheet. All right--go ahead."
"She's taking it pretty hard, and I--I thought you might help her.
She--she----"
"How much do you want?" said Rose, a trifle coldly. She turned in
the bed and eyed the black leather bag on the stand at her elbow.
"Twenty enough?"
"I don't think it's money," said the Nurse, "although she needs that
too; she hasn't any clothes for the baby. But--she's awfully
despondent--almost desperate. Have you any idea who the child's
father is?"
Rosie considered, lighting a new cigarette with one hand and
balancing the telephone with the other.
"She left me a year ago," she said. "Oh, yes; I know now. What time
is it?"
"Two o'clock."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Rosie. "I'll get the fellow on
the wire and see what he's willing to do. Maybe he'll give her a
dollar or two a week."
"Do you think you could bring him to see her?"
"Say, what do you think I am--a missionary?" The Nurse was wise, so
she kept silent. "Well, I'll tell you what I will do. If I can bring
him, I will. How's that yellow-haired she-devil you've got over
there? I've got that fixed all right. She pulled a razor on me
first--I've got witnesses. Well, if I can get Al, I'll do it. So
long."
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