"AGE EIGHT -
SERIAL STORY
INTERNE TROUBLE
." By Elinore Cowan Stone
CAST or CHAWCTBtl
THAN D1CAHHOHN a r o I a a,
tadrat Hm. flhe turn lata lor
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Un. BOB HE.NCIII.KY krO,
kana.oma Toonr Inlerar. Ha ka
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U,DR. (ITBPHEJt SAHOKHT
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Sratar (or Itallaa patlfat. Saa
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Jarea man.
CHAPTER VII
rpRAN did not notice that when
Dr. Benchley was about to
Interrupt with a swift question,
someone who stood in the back
ground stopped him with a quick,
low word.
She only knew that the eyes ol
the man on the table clung to hen
for reassurance, and that under
her hand the quivering in his arm
lessened, the tense muscles re
laxed. . . . And tor the first time
In her life, Tran felt power.
She did not know how long she
stood so without looking up feel
ing quivering muscles relax under
her fingers and the calm assur
ance of her voice before a white
clad nurse came with an orderly
and wheeled the patient away.
It was only then that Dr. Bench
ley said with the irony of a pa
tience too long strained, "If it isn't
too much to ask, it might be inter
esting to get some idea just what
that was all about."
Tran lifted her head and an
swered absently out of the uplift
of that newly discovered sense of
power, "He thought he was dying.
I told him it was going to be all
right."
"As simple as that, eh?" com
mented Dr. Benchley dryly.
Tran did not answer. Instead
(he turned and walked like a
woman in .a trance, straight out
of the room without even seeing
that the terrible Dr. Stephen Sar
gent stood just inside the door,
watching her with a thoughtful
frown between the arrogant sweep
of his brows.
Once outside, Tran found that
her knees were shaking so help
lessly that she had to cling to the
wall as she went along the cor
ridor. So that was what Miss Philbln
meant when she talked about
"giving to the patient"
There was another thing about
that evening that Tran never
knew.
T ATE that night; Dr. Sargent,
coming from the operating
room gray with fatigue, halted in
the corridor outside Miss Arm
strong's office at sight of light
framed by the transom, knocked,
and went inside.
Miss Armstrong, her cap slightly
askew, was brooding over a sheaf
of reports. At this time of year
Miss Armstrong often brooded
well into the morning over the
reports of her students.
' "Hm!" grunted Dr. Sargent
"And so on far into the night,
X suppose. And this is the hard
boiled lady who sends her girls
to bed at 10:30."
"I might say, 'And this is the
head-surgeon who rides his sub
ordinates for turning up red-eyed
for want of sleep, and then piles
midnight charity operation on
top of a full schedule'." . . . Well,
how did it go, Stephen?"
Miss Armstrong had been su
pervisor of surgical nursing at
Saint Vincent's when Stephen
Sargent had been the rawest of
young internes.
"Ruptured before I could get to
It," he said, sliding down in his
chair and thrusting his hands into
. his pockets, his long legs stretched
out before him. "The poor devil
had a wife and three children,
and couldn't make up his mind
to take a chance till, this evening,
the thing hit him like a bomb
ihell."
He took a silver case from his
pocket, extracted a cigaret, and
lighted it
"You really do smoke too much,
Stephen," Miss Armstrong said as
if from force of habit; but her
mind was obviously not on her
words.
"Just what I was telling young
Benchley about himself not two
hours ago," he agreed with a wry
, grin.
, " 'Young Benchley,' " the white
haired woman echoed musingly.
"And not so many years ago you I
FLAPPER FANNY
COPR. 1911 IV NtA MBV1CC. IMC.'
; "Oh, so itfs his horse you're
the horse's
COPYmaHT, I (3,
NBA SCRVICC, INC.
were "young Sargent' . . . How
old are you, Stephen? Thirty-six,
isn't it? . . . Pretty young for a
man to have taken the hurdles
Tou have."
"Tell young Benchley that" he
grinned, "He thinks I have one
foot in the grave already. And
do you know, Armstrong, I'm not
io sure he isn't right. I've reached
the stage where all this flaming
fouth underfoot around here gets
me down sometimes. . . . But what
( came about is one of your pro
bationers." "Ah?" said Miss Armstrong, and
lanced with a sigh at the pile of
reports under her folded hands.
o
"TJY a strange coincidence," Dr.
Sargent went on, staring
it the ceiling, and luxuriously
wreathing his head in smoke, "it's
the one who was up in court
together with young Benchley a
month or so ago the one with the
eyes like saucers and the tongue
In - the - cheek look who goes
around deviling everyone with
questions. . '. . What is it they call
her?"
"At various stages of her career
Utility and 'Agility.' . . . Lately,
I believe, it's been 'the Elephant's
Child' because, as you suggest, she
goes around asking questions. , . .
I suppose she's been asking yoii
some?"
Stephen Sargent chuckled." a
"Far from it She takes it on
the lam if she sees me coming a
half mile down the corridor.
Somebody's told her that I eat
little girls alive."
"So you've noticed it," mur
mured Miss Armstrong with a
little secret smile. "Well, what is
your complaint?"
"What would your guess be?"
he countered quizzically.
"An overdeveloped sense of
humor for one thing. ... The
tongue-in-the-cheek look,' I think
you called it Some of her in
structors complain of that There
seems to be an amazing difference
of opinion.. Miss Philbin, who has
her in demonstration, says she has
seldom seen such concentration
and. such deft sure workmanship.
. . . Miss Miller, under whose
supervision . she had sometimes
worked in the wards, confirms
that but tells me that she is emo
tionally unstable."
.' a
"TTM1 I doubt If Katherine
JJ" Miller would recognize an
honest emotion if she met it naked
in broad daylight" Stephen Sar-'
gent said with a sudden flatness
of tone that made the director of
nursing glance at him sharply.
"I shouldn't be so sure of that,'
the said, a dry smile in her shrewd
dark eyes. "Even so, it is pretty
well known that the unemotional
Miss Miller is your first choice for
the operating room."
"Naturally," he agreed. "She
has the quickest eye, the coolest
Intelligence, the deftest hands of
ill the nurses I have ever worked
with. She'd have made a damned
good surgeon if you ask me. But
do you know, Armstrong, I've
sometimes wondered, if I were
down and out and hurting like
the devil and scared within an
inch of my life the way we get
them every day whether a quick
rye, a cool intelligence, and deft
bands would be all I'd need.
Catherine Miller might be perfect
the perfect nurse, I mean, of
course if she'd put one more in
gredient into her work."
He broke off abruptly.
"Well, I'm still listening," Miss
Armstrong prompted.
"Herself," he finished.
She thought perhaps she would
if you were the patient, Stephen,
my lad. Aloud, she said, "After
ill, it was poor little Utility we
were talking about, wasn't it? . . .
Whose chief fault seems to be that
she puts a devastating amount of
herself into everything she does.
. . . Well, I believe you had a
complaint?"
"I didn't know I'd said any
thing about a complaint But,"
Dr. Sargent added slowly, "I have,
had something forced upon mp
attention which I think might
Interest you."
(To Be Continued)
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By Sylvia
T. M. & U. f PAT. OFF.-
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BY J. R. WILLIAMS
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