by Helen Wells
“I’m the new nurse, and you’re Sibyl Martin, aren’t you? I’d so much rather meet you girls outside the infirmary.”
Sibyl certainly could be charming. “Have you time to sit down, Miss Cherry, and have another bite with us? We’ve all been longing to know you—this is Cora, and Francie, and Susan—” The girls smiled and looked very carefully at Cherry’s well-cut uniform and dark curls. “We decided you’re—oh, dear, I shouldn’t say cute, should I? But our last nurse was a bore. So fat. Ugh.”
Cherry chatted for a few minutes, then stopped in for a moment at Mrs. Harrison’s office. As usual it was full of flowers from the garden. The headmistress was already busily at work at her desk.
“Oh, good morning, Cherry! How are you this fine morning? How is our poor Tina?”
“Tina is resting well, Mrs. Harrison—” Cherry reported on Tina and on Dr. Alan’s visit and arrangements to take Tina to the hospital. She did not think this was the right moment to mention his request for the school nurse to aid him occasionally. She did mention that Dr. Alan recommended buying a small sterilizer for the infirmary but, surprisingly, Mrs. Harrison said it was out of the question. Cherry wondered why—the school put on few frills but seemed comfortably off. Mrs. Harrison murmured about “repairs for this old house.” Cherry did not press; she would simply have to improvise.
“Dr. Alan will be here at nine this morning, Mrs. Harrison.”
“I want to talk with him myself, I think.”
“Yes, Mrs. Harrison.”
Before time for his visit, Cherry helped her patient to dress for the drive to the hospital. She expected that Dr. Alan would arrive in his car, not an ambulance, in this case. Then Cherry read over her patient’s chart, to make sure it was complete for her report to the doctor, glad that Tina’s TPR (temperature, pulse, respiration) were normal, and gave Tina a midmorning glass of orange juice. From the infirmary they heard a car pull up in the driveway. It was exactly nine o’clock.
A minute later Dr. Alan tapped on the infirmary door and entered.
“Good morning,” he said, all business. “How’s our patient this morning?” He smiled at Tina, then Cherry.
Cherry made her report, out of the patient’s earshot, and gave him the chart. Dr. Alan asked a question or two, then said, “Very good.”
“Mrs. Harrison would like to see you, Doctor.”
While he went downstairs to talk to the headmistress, Cherry gently helped Tina down the stairs, supporting her a little. As Dr. Alan emerged quickly from Mrs. Harrison’s office, Cherry assisted the patient into the waiting car.
“Thanks, Miss Cherry,” he said. “We’ll have Tina back here in a jiffy—I’ll instruct you then.”
The car moved off, and Cherry watched them go with a small sense of disappointment. There had been no chance to get better acquainted with Alan Wilcox on this visit. But it was ridiculous to feel disappointed! After these busy hours, Cherry felt at loose ends, that was all.
“What shall I do with my precious free hour?”
She decided to explore the house a bit. Classes were in session, and, except for a few girls who were studying in the upstairs students’ room, almost everyone was in the other buildings. The old house was quiet.
Cherry paused beside the grand staircase, noting a closed door up there on the halfway landing—a closet perhaps. She paused to listen to footsteps running up some other flight of stairs. She suspected that, like many an old mansion, this house had concealed stairways, hidden rooms, and deep, secret cellars. Her nose for mystery had led her into many adventures, but never into an old house like this one.
The chiming of the grandfather’s clock led her into the library. The room seemed to be empty, but when Cherry turned around an instant later, she saw Lisette kneeling behind a table, her ear pressed to the wall.
“Lisette! What are you doing?”
Lisette was just as startled to see Cherry.
“I—I’m looking for something I dropped—a pencil,” she said lamely.
“Haven’t you a class?”
“This is my study hour, Miss Cherry. You won’t report me, will you?”
“Of course not! But what were you—?”
Lisette fled. Cherry stood there with her mouth open, watching the girl streak up the stairs. She must be headed for the students’ room, where she belonged during a study hour.
A dropped pencil indeed! Lisette had not carried notebook or pencils with her, in fact, no books at all. Cherry scanned the wall and the floor where Lisette had been searching, but saw nothing unusual. What was the girl looking for? Or rather, had she been listening for something?
Cherry thought about Lisette several times in the next day or two. She had glimpses of that pale face framed in its dark cloud of hair, that small stubborn figure moving aloof from the noisy merriment of the other girls. Lisette took no part in the samba line that started one morning in the shower room, nor would she play charades in the evening on the lawn, and even at mealtimes she did not laugh with the other girls at her table. “She thinks we’re idiots,” Nancy said cheerfully.
Cherry was not so sure. She thought Lisette looked rather wistfully at the other girls at times. Then why didn’t she try to make herself agreeable, instead of wandering away into the garden or conservatory?
The other girls resented Lisette’s aloofness. Because of it, trouble flared up Sunday evening, right outside the infirmary door.
Cherry had left the door open. Sunday evening was a pleasant relaxed time, after a weekend of seeing family and friends at the school. Bursts of talk drifted in to Cherry about “Isn’t he the dreamiest?” and “I could have died in my old blue,” and “What a cake!” More sophisticated remarks came from Sibyl Martin and her clique, as they loitered on the stairs. “Oh, don’t be so romantic. For a boy who’s really been around, I think he’s terribly—” Cherry could not hear Sibyl finish the sentence, for it was whispered. A gale of laughter followed. The other girls asked Sibyl excited, muffled questions. Some mischief was afoot, probably with Sibyl the center of it.
A cluster of girls moved past the infirmary doorway. Sibyl called out sharply, “Lisette! Where are you going in such a hurry?”
Cherry knew that Lisette’s room was on this floor, hers and another newcomer’s. So was Sibyl’s room.
“Lisette! You took my bracelet, didn’t you? The lapis lazuli one.” Sibyl said calmly, “Come on, Lisette Gauthier, I don’t think it’s a very funny joke.”
Cherry saw Lisette stop in surprise.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sibyl.”
“I’m afraid you do. I wish you’d return my bracelet. My family gave it to me and it is quite valuable.”
“I didn’t take it. I don’t take other people’s things. Don’t you dare accuse me falsely!” Lisette cried.
“Falsely? You snoop around this house a lot. Everybody knows it.”
There was absolute silence. No answer came from Lisette; she did not deny that she had been prowling.
Cherry was appalled, and sorry for Lisette. A new girl was no match for Sibyl. Lisette had to fight her own battles, right or wrong, but it was hard to believe this strangely serious girl would steal. No, it was not like Lisette, as far as Cherry knew her. But the way Lisette wandered through the house was incriminating, at least on the surface.
Cherry was not surprised when Lisette came into the infirmary late that same evening, complaining of a headache. Her eyes were watery, as if she had been crying. She insisted it was only a cold.
“I must have caught it in the garden last night,” she added.
“What were you doing out in the garden at night? You know there’s enough dew to be really damp.”
“I’ve been going out nearly every night—rules or no rules—to see the night-scented stock. You know they give their fragrance only at night. They smelled wonderful!” Lisette said, sniffling. “Especially last night.”
Had Lisette only been in the garden last night? Had she a
lso been in Sibyl’s room? Sibyl had been out to the village movie with Cora and Francie last evening, Cherry heard, but she kept her question to herself.
“Hold still while I take your pulse and temperature. Why, Lisette! You’re really ill. I’m going to keep you in here for the night.”
Lisette, usually so self-willed, did not argue. She obediently went down the hall to her room and returned in a few minutes bringing nightgown and robe. She seemed relieved to have Cherry tuck her into one of the crisp, cool beds. Cherry gave her an aspirin tablet with a glass of orange juice, brought from the kitchen, and placed a light blanket on the bed.
“We’ll nip that cold in the bud.” She did not tell Lisette that she probably had flu. “Extra rest is the best way. Comfortable?”
“Yes, Miss Cherry.” Yet Lisette continued to sit up against the pillows, robe drawn around her thin shoulders. Cherry did not insist that she lie down at once. Patients sometimes wanted to talk.
Cherry sat down in the armchair and waited, making herself busy with the patient’s chart.
“Miss Cherry? Are you writing about me?”
“Yes. Your temperature, pulse, respiration, and so on, to show the doctor when he comes to see you tomorrow.”
“What do you write down under ‘and so on’?” Lisette giggled but could not keep up the pretense.
There was a pause.
“Don’t you want to lie down now?”
“No. Miss Cherry? May I ask you a crazy sort of favor?”
Cherry thought Lisette was going to mention the missing bracelet, and said, “Of course.”
“I wish very much that you’d bring me some of those garden flowers. Please? I’ll tell you exactly the ones I want—a silver spray, a sprig of stock, the fawn roses but only one or two, and a China rose—”
Cherry started to smile at this exorbitant fondness for flowers. Then she saw the intent expression in Lisette’s eyes. The girl’s passion for flowers was extraordinary! Cherry felt almost troubled.
“Would you get them for me? Please?”
“Yes, I’ll get them for you first thing in the morning.”
Lisette was at last content, and slept.
