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Page 45
"But just think of _her_--writing it!" burst forth the Oldest Trustee.
The Meanest Trustee barked out an exclamation, but nothing followed it;
undoubtedly that was due to the President's interrupting:
"I think if we had received this yesterday we should have been
very--exceedingly--indignant; we should have censured the writer
severely. As it is--hmm--" The President stopped short; it was as if
his mind had refused to tabulate his feelings.
"As it is"--the Executive Trustee took up the dropped thread and went
on--"we have decided to reconsider the removal of the incurable ward
without any--preaching--or priming of conscience."
"I am so glad we really had changed our minds first. I should so hate
to have that insignificant little woman think that we were influenced
by anything she might write. Wouldn't you?" And the Youngest and
Prettiest Trustee dimpled ravishingly at the Senior Surgeon.
"Wouldn't you two like to go into the consulting-room and talk it over?
We could settle the business in hand, this time, without your
assistance, I think." The voice of the Disagreeable Trustee dripped
sarcasm.
"I should suggest," said the President, returning to the business of
the meeting, "that the ward might be continued for the present, until
we investigate the home condition of the patients and understand
perhaps a little more thoroughly just what they need, and where they
can be made most--comfortable."
"And retain Margaret MacLean in charge?" The Meanest Trustee gave it
the form of a question, but his manner implied the statement of a
disagreeable fact.
"Why not? Is there any one more competent to take charge?" The
Executive Trustee interrogated each individual member of the board with
a quizzical eye.
"But the new surgical ward--and science?" The Youngest and Prettiest
threw it, Jason-fashion, and waited expectantly for a clash of steel.
Instead the Senior Surgeon stepped forward, rather pink and
embarrassed. "I should like to withdraw my request for a new surgical
ward. It can wait--for the present, at least."
And then it was that Margaret MacLean and the House Surgeon entered the
board-room.
The President nodded to them pleasantly, and motioned to the chairs
near him. "We are having what you professional people call a reaction.
I hardly know what started it; but--hmmm--" For the second time that
morning he came to a dead stop.
Everybody took great pains to avoid looking at everybody else; while
each face wore a painful expression of sham innocence. It was as if so
many naughty children had been suddenly caught on the wrong side of the
fence, the stolen fruit in their pockets. It was gone in less time
than it takes for the telling; but it would have left the careful
observer, had he been there, with the firm conviction that, for the
first time in their conservative lives, the trustees of Saint
Margaret's had come perilously near to giving themselves away.
In a twinkling the board sat at ease once more, and the President's
habitual composure returned. "Will some one motion that we adopt the
two measures we have suggested? This is not parliamentary, but we are
all in a hurry."
"I motion that we keep the incurables for the present, and that Miss
MacLean be requested to continue in charge." There was a note of
relieved repression in the voice of the Executive Trustee as he made
the motion; and he stretched his shoulders unconsciously.
"But you mustn't make any such motion." Margaret MacLean rose,
reaching forth protesting hands. "You would spoil the very best thing
that has happened for years and years. Just wait--wait until you have
heard."
As she unfolded her letter the President's alert eye promptly compared
it with the one behind him on the desk. "So--you have likewise heard
from the widow of the Richest Trustee?"
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