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Authors: Peggy Gaddis

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They were at the table now, and there was no time for Hilary to answer.


Mrs. Barton,

she addressed the old woman, who lifted shy, frightened eyes to Mr. Hodding

s pleasant old face,

may I present Mr. Hodding? He

s been here several months, and I

m sure he can tell you a lot of nice things. We do want our guests to be happy.


Mrs. Barton, it

s a great pleasure,

said Mr. Hodding, reading with swift understanding the fear and panic in the woman

s tear-dimmed eyes, and holding out his hand into which hers slipped shyly, hesitantly.

Have you finished your lunch? May I join you?

Mrs. Barton looked up at Hilary, who smiled reassuringly.

I have to run along, so you take my chair, Mr. Hodding,

she said pleasantly.

I

m helping Dr. Marsden in the clinic. Be sure you tell her all about the entertainment program and show her the library and—oh, everything you think will make her feel at home, won

t you, Mr. Hodding?


I shall be very happy to,

said Mr. Hodding, smiling.

Mrs. Barton flashed him a shy glance, and then looked up at Hilary and managed a faint smile. And to Hilary

s delighted surprise, there was an ever so faint hint of almost forgotten coquetry in Mrs. Barton

s eyes as she transferred her smile to Mr. Hodding.

 

Chapter Nine

He
came in a
little before two, looking tired and cold and harassed. But when his eyes fell on the appetizing tray Hilary had brought in for him, he looked at her with warm appreciation.


It hadn

t occurred to me that I was hungry,

he admitted, smiling.

But now I find that I

m ravenous.


I thought you would be,

Hilary assured him lightly.

Please eat it while the soup is hot. And you can give me notes on your house calls, and I

ll put them on the chart after we

ve finished clinic hours.

He nodded, and began giving her the details, which she jotted down swiftly and competently. And when the tray was empty and the notes were in order, he heaved a deep sigh as he lit a cigarette and poured the last cup of coffee from the small thermos.


Thad Carter should be in a hospital where he can be properly cared for.

He obviously was speaking his thoughts aloud; his brows were drawn together in a scowl.

But the county hospital is overcrowded, and he

s not eligible for Grady Memorial, in Atlanta.

He struck his clenched fist unexpectedly on his desk, and his eyes were cold and hard.


And when I think of these two empty wards here, all fitted up and equipped and
empty
—”

Hilary

s eyes widened.


We have two empty wards here, and you can

t bring a patient like this Mr. Carter here where you can take care of him?

she protested, amazed.

Dr. Marsden

s smile was tight-lipped and grim, his eyes stormy.


Mr. Ramsey feels it would

lower the tone

of the Town and Country Retirement Club if it was known that we have charity patients in the wards,

he said dryly.

And Mr. Ramsey sets great store by the

tone

of the T. & C.


Have you asked—

Hilary began.


Asked? I

ve practically gone down on my knees, begging him. But he just smiles and says,

Oh, I don

t think that would be wise, Dr. Marsden. I

m afraid our paying guests would resent it.
’”


I think that

s outrageous,

protested Hilary warmly.


So do I.

His tone was grim and hard.


But surely there must be some way he can be persuaded to change his mind. Surely if he realized that a man

s life depended on his being here, whether he can pay or not—


He realizes it. Don

t think I haven

t made it quite clear, brutally clear,

Dr. Marsden told her,

But he just goes on saying that there are places like Grady Memorial and the county hospital for the care of

indigent patients

and walks away.

Outside, in the out-patients

reception room, there was a small pearl-topped button beneath a sign that said,

Please ring and be seated.

The bell buzzed now, and Hilary stood up, whisking the tray out of sight, casting a swift glance about the office and the examination room, before she went out to receive the first patient. But throughout the busy afternoon, Dr. Marsden

s words kept echoing and re-echoing in her ears, and when the final patient had been ushered out into the cold, gray dusk, she came back to Dr. Marsden.


Where are these two wards you were talking about?

she asked.

Dr. Marsden grinned ruefully at her.


It won

t do any good—

he began.


Who can say?

Hilary interrupted briskly.

At least show them to me.

Dr. Marsden shrugged and walked with her out into the lobby and down the corridor along the men

s section of the club to a door at the very end which he opened, standing back for Hilary to precede him.

The ward was big, airy, everything Hilary had been taught that a hospital ward should be.


This was meant to be the men

s ward,

Dr. Marsden explained;

for men not financially able to pay fees charged for a private room and bath and who needed bed rest and medical care. But Mr. Ramsey and the board decided that the expense of such care would offset any reduced rates that the patient might be able to pay, so the wards have never been used. The one for women is at the other end of the corridor.

Hilary looked about her. Everything was so neat, so clean, so empty!


And there are people like Thad Carter who desperately need hospital care, and all this going to waste!

she said hotly.


It

s maddening, I admit,

said Dr. Marsden grimly.

But Ramsey
is
the boss. And of course the Board backs him to the limit. After all, the whole idea of the T. & C. was his, and he worked for fifteen years to raise the money; so I suppose it

s natural he would be opposed to anything he feels might make it less exclusive.


But it

s inhuman!

she protested warmly.

Dr. Marsden smiled down at her.


You feel that, too?

he asked.


How else would I, a nurse, feel?

He nodded, his eyes on her warm and interested, almost as though he were seeing her for the first time.


When I first came here to work, because of my interest in gerontology and my feeling that this would be a perfect place to study geriatrics, I was determined that the wards would be put to use, for old men and old women who were dependent on charity—of their relatives, of the Old Age Assistance program—not the well-heeled and very plush

guests

Ramsey and the Board were interested in,

he told her quietly.

But it has been an uphill battle. Of course, Ramsey is the Administrator and the Board is composed of a group of men who financed the place and who are concerned only with how much it can earn for them. So you can see they would not be warmly disposed toward accepting charity patients.


No, I suppose not,

Hilary agreed reluctantly,

but there

s just
got
to be some way that these wards can be put to use. It

s—why, it

s almost criminal to have them standing here empty when every bed is so badly needed in every hospital in the state! We

ve just got to change Mr. Ramsey

s mind for him!

Dr. Marsden smiled faintly, his eyes bitter.


Well, don

t think I haven

t tried, so often that he now avoids me when he can. And when we have to have a meeting, he gets through the necessary business as rapidly as he can and then hurries off to an engagement he

s just remembered.

He scowled into the darkness beyond the windows.


I should have resigned, I suppose, but my work here has been interesting and in ma
n
y ways rewarding. I

ve learned a great deal about the problems, the philosophy, diseases of the aged. And of course there is the Clinic,

he mused aloud.

Ramsey was very hard to convince about that; but doctors who specialize in gerontology and who were willing to work in a place like this where only the very well-padded existence of wealthy old people offered scope for their studies were, apparently, hard to find. So we compromised; I agreed to come; he agreed to give me an out-patient clinic.

Hilary said thoughtfully,

Somehow, I don

t seem to be growing very fond of Mr. Ramsey.

Dr. Marsden laughed, genuinely amused.


Oh, but you are speaking heresy, my dear girl!

he protested.

All women are supposed to be charmed and captivated by our Administrator.

Hilary cocked her head, peering up at him from the corner of her eyes.


You are, I take it, quoting our beloved Administrator?

she mocked.


Of course—who else?

He laughed, then sobered.

I have to admit that he is tremendously successful with the guests here; they flutter and twitter like a covey of birds when he appears.


I

d noticed that,

Hilary agreed, as they left the ward and walked down the corridor, where the ward maids were moving about, switching on lights, running small carts laden with oddments from the various rooms, getting the place ready for the dinner hour.

As they reached the lobby, Dr. Marsden paused and looked down at Hilary.


Thank you for helping me out today.

There was such sincerity in his voice that Hilary felt her face warm a bit.

You

re quite a girl, Hilary, and a very fine nurse.


I enjoyed feeling useful for a change,

Hilary admitted impulsively.


But you are being useful on your job here, Miss Westbrook—you mustn

t ever forget that,

Dr. Marsden protested quickly.

Have you ever thought how eagerly medical science is working to prolong life, and how little attention has been paid to the problems of those whose life span is no longer

three score years and ten

? You and I, and others like us,
are
doing a useful work. We must believe that or the whole science of geriatrics would fall apart.

Hilary nodded and smiled up at him.


You

re right, of course,

she agreed, and had no chance to say more, for Mrs. Barton, rustling happily in a very smart black frock, her hair newly done in the T. & C.

s beauty shop, came toward them, bright-cheeked, her eyes shining.


Oh, Miss Westbrook, I

ve had the most wonderful afternoon,

she reported like an eager child.

Mr. Hodding introduced me to so many nice people, and two of the ladies are interested in iris, and we had
such
a lovely chat. And tonight, Mr. Hodding says, we

re going to see a lovely ballet. A dance school in town is presenting its pupils in a recital in the solarium. Isn

t that lovely?

She became aware of Dr. Marsden for the first time, and looked momentarily shy. But her happiness overcame her shyness, and she greeted him with almost as much warmth as she had shown Hilary.

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