The Wingham Advance-Times, 1939-12-21, Page 15tfttg WtNdHAM At)VANCE-!'lME$
in 'the cup, Mrs. Mallord drifted, at a“Oh, Jan, isplt this wonderful?"
“Of course, dear," Jan swallowed
the lump in her throat and tried to be
casual as she answered her sister, But
she could not overcome the horrible
fear that Dr. Curtis’ simple statement
had aroused. Dora -— helpless little
sister — lying on an opgrating table!
The smell of ether — those dreadful
hours of waiting without being able
to help. She heard Dr, Curtis' voice
as from a great distance:
{‘Your sister is going to be fine,
Jan, She’s been one of my best pat'
ients so far, and I know she isn’t go
ing to disappoint me now.’’ He pat
ted the pale slender hand lying on the
coverelet and rose briskly. Only thens
did Jan remember that the question
of paying for'the operation had not
been discussed.
“But —' but Dr. Curtis. The mon
ey—”
His warm hand rested reassuringly
on her shoulder a moment. “I haven’t
mentioned it, have I?” he asked, smil-
ino*
.“No, but—”
“Then you needn’t bother about it
either. If it will make you any hap
pier, I want to tell you that the suc
cess of this operation will mean a lot
to me and .1 can arrange things at the
hospital.”
Dr. Curtis turned away froqi the
almost painful relief that made Jan’s
lips quiver and her eyes fill with
tears. He envied Tony’s ability to
bring that look to the girl’s face.
When his friend had first told him
about Jan and her sister, he had tried
to convince Tony that the idea of
posing as his own chauffeur was a
foolish one. But Dr. Curtis had to
admit now that it was the only wav
Tony could have arranged for Jan to
have all she needed without her know
ing — and refusing — his kindness.
The night before, when Tony had
guaranteed all expenses for the op
eration, he had protested again that
Jan ought to know the identity of her
benefactor.
“And miss all this fun?” Tony had
demanded. “Not on your life! I’ve
given enough to charity and listened
to enough mealy-mouthed requests
and hypocritical thank you speeches.
I certainly can part with a few pen-
nes for the girl .I’m crazy about, with
out putting her in a spot where she’ll
have to register gratitude."
The doctor, now preparing to leave,
gave a few cheerful instructions to the
girls.
“Dora can be ready to go to the
hospital this afterpoon?” he asked
casually. Without waiting for Jan’s
answer he went on: “I’ll, send a “pri
vate ambulance at three. You’ll like
it, Dora,” he promised, “you’ll go rac
ing through the streets with the siren
gqing full blast, scaring all the rest
of the traffic out of the way.”
Outside in the hall, his arm across
Jan’s shoulders, he said: “Be happy
about- it, Jan. That helps everybody,
you know.” . , _“I — I’m. happy,” whispered Jan.
. Chapter XIII
After Dora, smiling from the
stretcher, .had been carried out of the
room, Jan lost all sense of tinle. She
was not to see Dora again until after
the operation, according to Dr. Cur
tis’ arrangements, and the hours went
by in a sort of leaden procession that
.dulled her senses to everything — ev
en the work that lay before her. She
followed her regular routine, accept
ing her cues mechanically, smiling a
frozen little smile at the applause she
received. Then almost immediately it
was another day —* the day of Dora s
operation!
The old woman, always referred to
by Jan and Dora as “That cranky old
Mrs. Talbot” who lived on the same
floor, met Jan in the hall that morn
ing as she was fitting her key into
the door. ‘ .“I hear your §iste_r has gone to the
hospital,” began Mrs. Talbot, I hope
everything will be all right.”
Jan was astonished at this sympa
thy. She had thought that Mrs. Tal
bot disliked her—in fact the old lady
had seldom replied when she said
good morning to her. Now‘sire said,
gratefully, that she was sure the op
eration would be a success and that
would tell Dora as soon as she could
see hef that Mrs. Talbot had inquired
about her.Jan tried to rest, but to her tortured
imagination everything about her
seemed in a conspiracy to remind her
of her sister. Dora was all she gad—
if anything should happen. . . !
Jan jumped up, threw on her coat
again and jammed her hat on her
head. She walked aimlessly mile af
ter mile. Only when she called the
hotel and found that Dr. Curtis had
left a message that Dora was doing
well, did she suddenly see that it was
past noon and that she was in an un
familiar part of the city, It took her
some time to get back to the Devon
Arms and she .realized only then that
she had walked far and was extreme
ly tired. Paul met her as she was
coming in and exclaimed in pity.
“You must not worry so much. I’ll
tell Zambrini you, will not rehearse
this afternoon. Get some sleep — the
maid will call you in time.”
Jan, like an obedient child, went .to
her room, accepted the cup of hot
broth that was sent up to her, and
curled up on the bed. She would not
— she could not — fall asleep. Yet,
about five minutes later, it seemed,
the maid was gently shaking her and
saying it was seven o’clock.
It was a blessed relief to rush
through a bath, force down a sand
wich and get ready for the show, In
between she found' time to call Dr.
Curtis and his warm, cultured voice
reassured her as much as his words,
Dora-had co-operated beautifully. He
was very pleased with the way every
thing had gone. She was not to wor
ry,. His voice lingered with her for
tire next;-hour. , x
Then again she began to get rest
less, to wonder nervously if Dr. Ctlr-
tis had not been professionally kind.
If only she could see Dora — just for
Jan was sitting precariously on the, edge of a deep wing chair beside a
tiny fireplace tiled in pale blue.
a minute! But no, she must put on
her make-up, she must dance and
smile, .and sing her silly tuneful little
song. Her nails bit into her palms
until she felt that she would lose con
trol, and she hated every one of the
well dressed,, well fed audience who
turned their faces to her so politely.
But at last came the biassed moment
of release — the time when she could
fly to Tony waiting with the car to
carry her to the hospital. Jan scarce
ly heard Zambrini’s whispered:
“Bravo, Mademoiselle!”
The morning after Dora’s operation
Jan returned to. the hotel with feet
that fairly danced across the lobby.
“Dr. Curtis said she would surely'
be home in time for New Year’s,” Jan
said breathlessly to Paul Harris. For
once his iron reserve seemed broken
and he had to clear his throat before
he spoke.“I — I’m delighted to hear it, Jan.
Dora has become very — very firmly
established in my —- in all ‘our affec
tions. Last night when you came back
from the hospital I was afraid . .
Jan looked up and remembered that
she had heard Paul’s wife had died in
hospital following an operation. For
the first time he seemed to her not a
stern and worldly hotel manager, but
a sympathetic friend.
Later, when she answered a ring at
the door, Jan was surprised to sec her
former landlady, Mrs. Mallord, fram
ed in the doorway, The heavy bulk
of her figure was swathed in a plaid
ulster that seemed to double her size.
She was wearing what was plainly a
new hat, as well — a very late style,
as Jan recognized, but of a pert type
that was the last thing Mrs, Mallord
should have chosen. As she entered
the room, she waved a large trans
parent-wrapped bouquet in Jan’s face.
“I would have taken them to the
hospital to your sister, only I couldn’t
get there during visiting hours , ,
she began. “I’m taking a chance be
ing away as -long as this, anyhow.
How is the poor darling?”
“She’s just fine, Mrs. Mallord. Ev
erybody says she couldn’t be better.”
Jan pulled forward an easy chair and
settled her visitor comfortably. “Det
me help you off with your coat.”
“I don’t know as that’s necessary,”
the woman replied, smoothing the
plaid design over her knee.
“It’s new, isn’t it? And I do like
your, hat, Mrs., Mallord.” (I do, but
not on'her, Jan was thinking to her
self.)
“I’m after having myself a complete
new outfit.”
“Really, Mrs. Mallord! Don’t tell
me someone’s left you a fortune?”
“Well, now — .and that's just what
happened,” began • Mrs. Mallord.
“You’ll be remembering that uncle of
mine that had his funeral on the very
day I couldn’t go? He was a sly one,
God rest his soul! A saving account
he had all the time — in a bank, mind
you — with a bank book and all, .and
never a word to anybody except how
hard it was for him trying to make
ends meet.”
“You mean your uncle had mon
ey?” Jan interrupted.
“He did that. And lie’s after leav
ing it all to me. A legacy, the lawyer
called it — a fine spoken young man
he was too. The very image of my
nephew Timothy McShane—”
“Oh, Mrs. Mallord—I’m more glad
about it than I can tell you,” Jan ex
claimed. “Now you won’t have to
work any more.”
“ListeiKto the child!” scoffed Mrs.
,Mallord. “And what should I be do
ing if not wo'rking, as I’ve done all
my life? No, four hundred and eigh
ty-seven dollars is what I had left af
ter I bought some new clothes for
myself and Jack, as the lawyer ad
vised me to do. Imagine, if yoti can,
me taking advice from a lawyer! But
I putQlie rest of the money'away and
now I can die easy.”
Chapter XIV
Accepting the cup of tea that Jan
had ordered for her and which the
bellboy had just brought in, Mrs. Mal
lord sat back complacently. As she
stirred the generous amount of sugar
J“’ !?,'«* his
E 1 b‘ 11 was aJ1 due, t seemed; hat fme young man of Jan’s -1 Tonv
'fan*flushed at Mrs- MaF
assumption of an engagement
k between her and Tony.
She told the girl about the emntv
store down the block that Mr ’WiF
hams had managed to rent for the'
pair hi A? a L ln a bad state re--
pa nted ir rOys, thei™elves had
painted it and fixed it up Shp han-
made them seme nice lowered cur
lams and Jan didn’t know wliat k
bo°y" ke°Tac“off d’S h,£art t0 1,ave » ?tu of is °"a?e
ing hard, too. He’d always been verv
haf Void1’ school and Mr. Williams
might Vhi/ ab°U1; a scholarship he/ mfeht wm to go to a military schooX
life uniform and brass buttons ran l
surmised had led.Jack to work hard toward tins particular goal “
cumn? ^rs- ¥allord had three
ps of tea and an equal number pieces of toast with marmS /
announced that she coX^t In?
°tbe.r lninute» and hoisted herself out
_f the armchair. When she ’was gone Jan began to dress hastily. She&had
a luncheon date with Tony'and she
Dora whatyDWaV t0- bim abc>ut
voia what Dr. Curtis had skid and
b?en everyone at tte hospital had
She felt so festive she wished she
had some flowers to pin to der dark green coat. But eve/since she had
refused his orchids, Tony had refrah-
That°in f1?"8’ her any more flowers,
thini iiadi bren a, Sllly and childish
m « nid°’ Jan thoug’ht for the hun-
diedth time as she rummaged through
a drawer for the bracelet that had
been Tony s only lasting gift to her.
It was quite a pretty bracelet, Jan
thought as she fastened the clasp ar
ound her wrist. Rhinestones and a
pattern of little greeri stones that al
most matched her coat. Really, a dia-
™°nd brace’et couldn’t have sparkled
moie. Tan turned her arm this way
and that, admiring the flash of the
stones, marvelling anew at the mod
ern ingenuity that could imitate real
diamonds so successfully.
In the back of her mind Jan was
going, over what Mrs. Mallord had
said about her legecy and Jack’s club.
J aR wonderfully good fortune
for the Mallord family. Kind of
, nT’ too> t° take such an interest in
the boy. He must be spending quite
a lot of money on him. Jan knew en
ough about rents, the cost of paint
and chintz curtains, to realize that ev
en the meager club room which Jack’s
friends had set -up must cost a good
many dollars, Tony had never told
her wliat he earned; she supposed it
was plenty, since he seemed to be
somewhat of a confidential secretary
as well as chauffeur to William An
thony Deverest. From what Tony
said she gathered that Mr.\Deverest
confided in him most of the details of
his private life. Still — how much
money would he have to be making
to indulge in philanthropy for a whole
■^neighborhood of boys?
Suddenly, Jan was struck by anoth
er thought. That legacy of Mrs. Mal
lon s — tt was rather funny that this
uncle should turn out to have money
only after lony Williams had called
at Jan s old home! Oh, well—there
was probably no connection. And as
for the boys, maybe that club of
Viei,r^ Wat 110ti nearly so grand as
Jack s mother described. It wouldn’t
do any harm, however, to find out if
she could whether or not Tony was
spending all his savings on the Mai- -
lord family simply because she had
suggested that they needed help.
Jan picked up her purse and went
down to the lobby. In another week
di i iu,ng with evergreens;
I aul had already told her that the
huge wreaths of balsam which were
especially made for the Devon Arms
eveiy yeai had been ordered and were
even then, probably, getting dressed
up rn red satin bows.
“Jan I”
“Why, Dr. Curtis!” exclaimed Jan.
lhe last time Jan had seen him he
had been in lus white coat, looking
as stiff and starched as if he had nev
er appeared outside the shining hos
pital wards. Now he was dressed in
a.dark blue overcoat that gave him
somehow a more youthful air. Jan
could not help noticing that his warm
smile and friendly greeting were more
whole-hearted than usual. Her color
rose as she gave him her hand and
chided him for having left Dora even
for an instant.
“Dora couldn’t be better, nor in
better hands,” said the doctor, “but
I ve been wondering if somebody