Chapter V: Part 5

“Mother,” Tommy asked, “would it be okay if I brought Bert home to dinner?”

“My goodness, Tommy,” Mrs. Craig said, “I was wondering when you were going to invite him here. You’ve been out there so much.”

“Would tonight be okay? He’s having his tryout this afternoon here in town, and he could come after that.”

“Tonight would be fine,” Mrs. Craig agreed.

“You say he plays the violin?” Mr. Craig asked.

“Well, I’ve never heard him play. But that’s what he said,” Tommy said.

“What does he look like?” Kit asked.

“Aw, I don’t know. Like a fellow. He’s taller’n me. But he’s older.”

Mrs. Craig smiled. “Tonight we’ll have a dinner for our musicians. We were going to have a special dinner for Doris, anyway.”

“Jeepers!” Tommy cried. “That’s swell! Excuse me, please. I’ll call him right away before he leaves Mercyville!” He jumped from the table.

“I think I hear Becky in the kitchen,” Mrs. Craig said, getting up from the table. She went into the hall and called to Becky.

“I’m just putting some fresh cookies into your jar,” Becky called back. “Land but I’ve a mess of ’em here. Judge Ellis would be sick for a week if I left them around the house for him to nibble at.”

She bustled into the hall. “Well, Marge,” she said. “So this is the big day. Just get over one and you have another. Jean sure is right smart in her cap ’n’ everything.”

“Thank you, Becky,” Mrs. Craig said. “We’re pretty proud of her. And yes, this is Doris’s day. And now Tommy has invited a friend from Mercyville for dinner, so we’ll have a little party. We can use the cookies, you see.”

“You’re welcome to ’em, child. I’ve heard about this Mercyville place. It’s wonderful, I understand.” She picked up her basket. “I have to run, Marge. But you let me know first you hear about how Doris comes out.”

Mrs. Craig walked with her to the door. “I certainly will, Becky. And thanks so much for the cookies.”

After lunch, Doris went into the living room to practice. Mrs. Craig worried about whether or not Doris should practice just before her try-out, but she kept silent, not wanting to upset her daughter. As she heard Doris’s skillful fingers run over scales and arpeggios, she relaxed and went about her household chores with a light heart. Certainly Doris couldn’t fail to impress the examiners!

At three o’clock they arrived. Mrs. Tyler, Doris’s music teacher, appeared with Mr. Hensen and Miss Smythe of the college. Mrs. Craig brought them into the parlor where Doris was still limbering up her fingers.

“This is Doris,” she said, introducing her child to the young teachers.

“I’m glad we had the chance to break in on your practicing,” Mr. Hansen said. “It’s sometimes easier to tell about a performance when the girl doesn’t realize we’re listening.”

Doris smiled shyly and sat down on the bench. “I know you’re in a hurry, so I’ll start right off,” she said.

She opened her small program with a Bach prelude. Her fingers moved with precision and grace. Then she played the first movement of a Beethoven sonata, and she closed with a Chopin etude.

Mr. Hansen and Miss Smythe were silent for a moment after Doris had finished. Finally Mr. Hansen stood up. “Forgive me if I appear to be rude, Mrs. Craig, but I would like to talk to Miss Smythe alone for a minute.”

“Of course!” Mrs. Craig cried, jumping up. Doris and Mrs. Tyler followed her out into the hall.

“You were just perfect, Doris,” Mrs. Tyler said. “I never heard you play so well.” She wiped her eyes.

“Oh, Mother,” Doris sighed, leaning against Mrs. Craig. “I’m scared.”

Mrs. Craig patted her arm. “Relax, darling. We probably won’t know for several months whether or not you won. If not, you can always try again.”

Mr. Hansen stepped into the hall. He stroked his chin thoughtfully as they all went back into the living room.

“I don’t understand it,” he said thoughtfully. “I simply don’t understand it at all. Miss Smythe and I have been traveling the length of the East Coast, and right here in Elmhurst we do something we’ve never done before. Not once, but twice!”

Doris clutched her mother’s hand.

“It’s our usual procedure,” Mr. Hansen continued, “to award five scholarships to Timothy College a year. We make quite comprehensive notes about each student and then talk it over later and award them just before the opening of school after we’ve completed our trip. But this afternoon we heard a young man ... a violinist ... who prompted us to choose him without any further discussion. He’s _extremely_ gifted. I haven’t heard talent in such a youngster for years!

“And now your daughter. She is very gifted, Mrs. Craig. Both Miss Smythe and I have no hesitation in inviting Doris to Timothy for a year of study.”

Doris stared wide-eyed at the man. “You mean...?”

He nodded. “This seems to be good climate for musicians. I hope you’ll decide to accept our scholarship, Doris. You’ve a precious talent, my dear.”

Doris burst into tears and ran from the room. Mrs. Craig looked after her uncertainly.

“Let her go, Mrs. Craig,” Miss Smythe said. “She’ll be all right in a few minutes.”

Mrs. Craig gestured with her hands. “I ... I don’t know what to say. Except thank you. Thank you very much.”

Mr. Hansen chuckled. “We’re more than thanked by hearing such a promising youngster. I really would like to know what you people do to produce such talent up here!”

“I hope you can stay to tea,” Mrs. Craig said.

Miss Smythe shook her head regretfully. “I hate to turn you down, Mrs. Craig. But we have a train to catch in one hour.”

Still in a daze, Mrs. Craig watched them as they went down the long driveway. And as she stood in the doorway, she saw Tommy and his new friend, Bert, drive up toward the house. They waved at the passing car and then they spotted her. Bert brought his car to a halt and they jumped out. The older boy brought along his violin and tucked it under his arm.

“Hey, Mom, here’s Bert Cramer,” Tommy called as they dashed up the porch steps. “And you know what?”

Mrs. Craig grinned as she clasped the boy’s hand. “Yes, I do,” she said. “And I think it’s perfectly marvelous!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Craig,” Bert said. “My winning that scholarship will mean a lot to us all out there.”

“Just as Doris’s winning means a lot to us,” Mrs. Craig answered.

Tommy stared at his mother. “Aw, you’re kidding!” he said. “They told Bert they hardly ever tell before they get back to Timothy.”

Mrs. Craig said, “I know. They made an exception in Bert’s case. _And_ in Doris’s case, too!”

Tommy turned a handspring in the hall. “Dopey old Doris!” he cried.

“Why, Tommy!” his mother said.

“Isn’t she wonderful, Mom?” he cried. “Isn’t she just about the most wonderful girl ever?”

“Take Bert upstairs to see Jack,” Mrs. Craig told her son. “I think Doris is up with him, now. We have a son in bed with rheumatic fever,” she explained to Bert.

“Yes, ma’am, I know,” Bert said. “I’m very sorry.”

“Come on, Bert,” Tommy cried. “You’ll like Jack.”

Upstairs, Doris was pouring out the story of the afternoon to Jack, who lay back on his pillow, grinning from ear to ear.

“I told you you could do it, Doris,” he said as Tommy and Bert came in. “Hi, Tommy,” he said.

“Doris, this is Bert Cramer,” Tommy said. “And this is my brother, Jack.”

Doris turned to face the boys. Her large dark eyes were shining with happiness and her cheeks were flushed. Bert looked at her as if he were seeing an angel. Suddenly he tore his gaze away and strode over to Jack’s cot.

“Hi, there, Jack,” Bert said. “Tommy’s told me a lot about you.”

“Bert won a scholarship, too, kids.”

“Jeepers! What talented company I have!” Jack cried. “And here I thought that Doris was just family. I guess I’ll have to be more polite to the genius in the future!”

“Jack, you’re a goose!” Doris said, hugging him. “And Bert, I think it’s wonderful that you won.”

“Thank you, Doris,” Bert said. “I’m just now beginning to realize _how_ lucky I was to win.”

Doris looked at him. She saw his honest brown eyes looking straight into hers, and she blushed.

Dinner was hilarious. Mr. Craig and Tommy and Jack, who was permitted to eat downstairs now, kept everyone in stitches with old jokes and bad puns. And after a dessert of apple pie and ice cream, the family adjourned to the parlor.

“I wonder,” Mr. Craig mused, “whether we might hear our young geniuses perform.”

Without hesitation, Bert said, “I left my violin in the hall. If you like, I’ll get it.”

“He’s a pretty poised youngster for one so young,” Mr. Craig said, watching him go out to the hall.

“My, he’s a nice kid,” Kit said.

“You can say that again!” Tommy agreed. “I’m gonna get the gang together next time he comes for dinner. We’ll have a peachy time.”

They could hear Bert tuning his violin in the hall.

“Tommy,” Mr. Craig said, “isn’t Bert a little old for your gang?” He glanced over at Doris. “I have a hunch that next time he comes to dinner, he might be calling on someone else.”

Bert came back into the parlor and handed Doris some sheet music. “This isn’t exactly fair. You have to do all the sight reading. I know it by heart.”

Doris sat down at the piano. “I don’t mind,” she said. “Oh good! Scarlatti! Why, I know this sonata!”

They began to play. The music transported everyone in the room, and they played together as if they had practiced together for years. As he played, Bert looked down at Doris, and Mr. Craig nodded and stroked his chin. It was obvious to him that they would see a great deal of Bert Cramer this summer, and not as part of Tommy’s gang.

17. Judge Ellis Is Trapped

After great spluttering and fussing, Judge Ellis had finally yielded to Aunt Becky’s ultimatum that he go to the clinic for a checkup.

“Confound that woman!” he muttered under his breath as he clamped his straw hat on his massive white head and tucked his walking cane under his arm. The impressive man of law had met his match when he had married the stern New England woman a few years before.

Aunt Becky stood in the front door waiting for the judge to get ready to go out. She looked fondly at her husband as he surveyed himself in the old-fashioned, full-length mirror which stood in the hall.

“And you can stop muttering those terrible things about me, too!” she commanded.

“Bah!” Judge Ellis snorted. Then he leaned over and laid his cheek against hers. The tender little gesture was a token of the great love these two strong-willed people had for each other.

Aunt Becky held him back at arm’s length and studied his appearance. “You’re a shameful man,” she said gently, “to be so handsome at your age!”

“Humph!” the judge exclaimed. “You talk as if I belonged in my grave!”

“Oh, scat! Out with you!” Becky cried.

Whistling jauntily, Judge Ellis strolled down the walk and turned toward town. He would walk on such a fine day. This visit to the clinic was sentimental nonsense, he told himself. But if it would please Becky....

Dr. Daley, the clinic internist, was waiting for the judge when he arrived. The doctor was a comparatively young man, and he fervently hoped that he would find Judge Ellis in good shape. He knew what a chore it would be to try to convince the eminent citizen of Elmhurst to take any sort of treatment.

Dr. Daley’s heart sank as he saw the older man’s sagging waistline. But he smiled cheerfully and invited the patient into his office.

“This stuff and nonsense,” Judge Ellis snorted, “is a complete waste of time, young man.” He glowered at the doctor. “Why aren’t you taking care of _sick_ people? I’m a well man, as you can tell by looking at me. And right this minute I should be down at City Hall. An important committee meeting is awaiting me.”

Dr. Daley nodded. “You look pretty good, sir,” he admitted. “Now if you’ll take off your coat and shirt, I’ll listen to your heart.”

Grudgingly the Judge obeyed.

The doctor nodded as he listened to the tired old heart. “And now the blood pressure,” he commented as he adjusted the gadget around the Judge’s arm.

After he had been weighed, Judge Ellis put his shirt and coat back on and knotted his tie carefully. Dr. Daley, thinking hard, sat down behind his desk and looked over Judge Ellis’ medical history.

“Of course this is nowhere near a complete examination. I want to have some lab tests made,” the doctor said.

“Humph,” was Judge Ellis’ reply. “This is a waste of both your time and mine.”

The doctor nodded. “Judge Ellis,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a little advice. You see, my father is a prominent surgeon in New York City, and you can’t tell him anything. He has studied medicine all his life, and he is a very wise man ... medically speaking, of course.”

“Glad to hear it,” the judge grunted.

Dr. Daley sighed. “But he’s a baby in some ways. A couple of years ago he made some bad financial investments. He knew what he was signing when he made the transactions. Now he wants to sue the company. But his lawyer ... a young man about my age ... but _very_ good ... advises him not to sue.”

Judge Ellis grunted. “Why not?”

Dr. Daley shrugged. “He’d be throwing good money after bad. The company couldn’t pay even if he did sue. He won’t get a cent.”

“Who’s handling the case? Your father’s lawyer, I mean?”

“Stanley Jordan of Smith, Perkins and Jordan.”

Judge Ellis nodded gravely. “Jordan is an excellent man. Your father should have implicit faith in him. Know him well!”

A smile spread across the doctor’s face. “But, sir, you don’t know my father. He thinks because Jordan is a young man and he is much older, that he knows better.”

Judge Ellis banged the desk with his fist. “Thunderation, man! Then why did your father go to Jordan in the first place? What in heaven’s name does a doctor know about the law, anyway?” He sniffed. “You tell your father that Judge Ellis, who is undoubtedly his age or better, tells him to stop being a fool and to listen to what Jordan says!”

Dr. Daley repressed a chuckle. “Thank you, sir,” he said.

“Is that all, young man?” the judge demanded.

Dr. Daley scribbled something on a pad and held it out to Judge Ellis. “I think so, for today.”

The judge stood up and shook hands with the doctor. Then he went out to the corridor and opened the note Dr. Daley had given him.

Judge Ellis:

Your blood pressure is up enough to warrant further laboratory
tests. If you will report to the lab, they will make all the
arrangements for your convenience. Also, I want you to take off at
least twenty pounds. I’m sure Mrs. Ellis can arrange a fat-free and
low carbohydrate diet for you. You should adhere to this diet for
at least a year. The weight should come off slowly, just as it was
put on. If you smoke, do so in moderation.

Judge Ellis scowled and turned menacingly towards the doctor’s office. Then he looked at the note again.

There was a postscript.

Thank you, sir, for the advice about my father. I don’t know why
he thinks that just because he is an elderly man and famous in his
field, he knows all there is to know about every other profession.

Judge Ellis began to chuckle. His chuckle grew into a full-bodied roar. The girl at the desk looked up, startled.

“Young lady!” he boomed. “Can you direct me to the laboratory?”

In his office, Dr. Daley chuckled a little over the episode. He put aside Judge Ellis’s medical history and snapped on his inter-office phone. “Send in the next patient, Miss Babcock,” he said.

The girl outside answered, “But Dr. Daley, Dr. Barsch has an operation he wants you to attend in a half hour. You haven’t forgotten it, have you?”

The young doctor’s hands grew clammy at the thought of the operation he was to attend. “Thank you, Miss Babcock,” he said. “Thank you for reminding me.”

His face was grim as he left his office and went upstairs to prepare for the operation. He met Jean on the second floor corridor. She was armed with her sketch pad.

“So you’re to try your hand at sketching a cancer operation, Miss Craig,” Dr. Daley said.

“Yes, sir,” Jean answered.

The doctor shook his head. “This will probably be very unpleasant. I’m frankly scared to death every time we attempt to remove a cancer.”

“I know,” Jean replied solemnly as they went into the operating room.

Howard Mills, a middle-aged farmer, had developed cancer in his lung, and Dr. Barsch was dubious as he prepared for the operation. If the malignant cells had been confined to one lung, Mr. Mills could be pulled through. But if the cancer had invaded the surrounding tissues, there was little hope for his life.

“The worst part about this operation,” Dr. Barsch told Jean as they scrubbed in the operating room lavatory, “is that one never knows. The surrounding tissues may look fine and normal, but cancer cells can break away and get into the blood stream and be carried far from the spot of operation.”

“It’s a grisly business,” Dr. Daley affirmed.

“It’s terrible!” Jean cried.

Dr. Barsch sighed and turned his attention to his scrubbing. Dr. Daley said, “If Mr. Mills had come in for regular checkups, this might not have happened. Someday people will learn.”

Eileen Gordon came in briskly and rolled up her sleeves to scrub. Dr. Barsch looked at her with fond exasperation.

“So you’re going to assist me,” he commented dryly.

She looked up at him, puzzled. “Yes, sir,” she answered. “This is too important to let anyone else handle.”

The doctor chuckled a little. “Of course you know that Dr. Benson will be on hand, too. Dr. Daley will stand by while I work, and Dr. Benson will do the probing when we make the incision. That boy has the makings of a fine surgeon,” he added, almost to himself.

Eileen reddened. “I didn’t know, sir. Honest.”

Dr. Barsch turned from the sink. “I won’t have it!” he bellowed. “I simply won’t have it! I get a girl trained and some young nincompoop rushes her off to the altar! How many supervisors do you think I can train in the space of two years?”

Eileen giggled. “Oh, goodness, doctor. Dr. Benson hasn’t even _talked_ about marriage! We’re just good friends.”

Dr. Barsch patted his hands with a sterile towel. “Good friends, indeed! I’ve seen that young idiot mooning about here as if he invented falling in love!”

“Here he comes, Doctor,” Jean warned.

“Let him hear me,” Dr. Barsch said defiantly, but he lowered his voice.

If Dr. Benson had been mooning about, he showed no evidence of it this morning. He glanced at the clock as he began to scrub. Each person in the room was required to scrub for ten minutes. Then he meticulously scoured his hands and arms with a small brush, taking particular care to clean around the base of the nails where dirt can be imbedded. When he had finished, he bathed his hands and arms in an antiseptic solution. He didn’t even glance at Eileen, who was scrubbing at the next basin.

The patient was wheeled in and transferred to the operating table. In spite of the fact that he was under opiates, Mr. Mills moaned. Dr. Henry waited till he was ready for the anesthetic and then fitted a cone over the man’s nose and mouth. Watching the blood pressure carefully, he checked the pulse rate every few seconds. At last the moaning stopped, and Dr. Henry nodded.

Dr. Barsch stood beside the patient’s chest ready to make the incision. Gerald Benson stood on the other side of Mr. Mills. A step behind Dr. Barsch, Dr. Daley stood. Dr. Henry was stationed at the patient’s head. Eileen and Jean were on a level with the patient’s hips. They all wore sterile hospital gowns, masks and gloves. Not a single strand of hair escaped from the sterile white caps on their heads.

Dr. Barsch let out his breath slowly and made his incision. Jean watched carefully as he opened the chest. The incision was more difficult to make than one for an abdominal operation, but Dr. Barsch cut skillfully, and soon the lung was exposed. They all shuddered as they saw the cluster of malignant cells imbedded at the base of the lung. Jean sketched quickly. She was fascinated at the sight of the exposed heart beating slowly and calmly as if it were undisturbed.

Then the cutting out of the cancer began. Dr. Barsch cut under the growth, praying that he would find healthy tissue beneath. But there was more cancerous material below. He sighed and cut down again. Finally, he reached normal tissue. Then he and Dr. Benson began the long, tedious and important task of exploring the entire cavity for more malignant tissue. The clock ticked away minutes as they probed.

“All right,” Dr. Barsch said finally. “Take my side.”

They changed places, and Dr. Benson then went over the parts that Dr. Barsch had checked while the older doctor explored Dr. Benson’s territory.

Eileen handed them instruments without instruction, anticipating their needs. And Jean bent her head over her task as she recorded the entire lung and the surrounding organs. She tried to draw every small capillary which extended out into the lung area to form a structure which looked like a branch of a tiny bush. Dr. Henry watched over the patient’s breathing and pulse rate as carefully as a mother watches over a newborn child.

Finally Dr. Henry spoke. “That’s all,” he said hoarsely. “We can’t take any more chances. His pulse rate is falling.”

As long as the patient was under anesthetic, Dr. Henry was the general. As soon as he spoke the other doctors were quick to follow his instructions.

Dr. Barsch shook his head. “All right,” he said grimly. “But I don’t like it.” Silently he began to sew up the wound. First he drew it together with soluble clamps, and then he stitched the chest together as if it were a piece of cloth.

Jean, clutching her sketch pad and pencil, looked at all their faces. Dr. Barsch’s was grim and determined as he sewed. Dr. Daley’s face was expressionless. Dr. Benson’s was white and drawn. He looked as if he were in pain. Dr. Henry shook his head from side to side as he worked over the man’s respiratory system. Eileen’s face was a white mask. Jean knew that the color had left her own face as well.

She knew, too, that they were all praying to a Higher Power whose Presence is always very much felt in an operating room. No one in the room had ever known Mr. Mills before he came to the clinic. But that didn’t matter. His was a precious life ... a human life. And his body was the scene of a battle of that greatest of all wars since the beginning of the human race. Man was at war with his natural enemy, disease.

18. Just Among Girls

Billy Ellis and Buzzy Hancock raced up the Craig driveway, hooting and howling as they ran.

Tommy appeared on the front porch just as they reached the steps. He waved at them vigorously and called, “Hey, guys! C’mon! Hurry up!”

Billy and Buzzy hurdled the porch rail and collapsed on the porch swing. “Jeepers!” Buzzy panted. “We’ve run just about a mile!” He fanned himself with his open hand. “What’s the big news?” He snorted. “Hurry ’n’ tell us, because we gotta get back to school and pick up the stuff for the game.”

“Jack went to the clinic last night,” Tommy said importantly.

Billy and Buzzy stared at each other in consternation.

“Aw, gee,” Billy said quickly. “He isn’t sick again, is he?”

Tommy paused a moment, enjoying the scene. “Dr. Loring had him put in the hospital because he thinks he’s well again--”

“Zowie!” Buzzy cried. “Really?”

“And they had to make lab tests to be sure,” Tommy continued importantly.

“Well, tell us. When’re they going to know if he’s okay?”

Tommy puffed himself up. “I already know,” he said. “You can ask me if you want to know.”

The two boys jumped on him and wrestled him down. “C’mon!” Buzzy cried. “Stop being an egghead! Tell us!”

Tommy freed himself and sat up. “Take it easy, you guys!”

“Talk, son,” Billy demanded, aiming at him with an imaginary gun.

“Okay. Okay,” Tommy said. “Jack’s coming home this morning. He’s all through his exams. As far as they know, he’s okay.”

Billy and Buzzy both let out an Indian war whoop and threw themselves down on the swing again.

“He’s not supposed to have a lot of excitement,” Tommy cried. “But jeepers, I don’t know how he’s going to avoid it! The things that go on round this house!” He took a big breath. “I guess you guys know both Frank Howard and Ralph are supposed to come this week.”

“Aw, love!” Buzzy protested. “What’s so exciting about that?”

Tommy shrugged. “Search me,” he said. “But the way Kit ’n’ Jean act, you’d think it was the most important thing ever.” He rolled his eyes and added, “It gets pretty exciting when there’s going to be a wedding, though.”

“Who’s gonna get married?” Billy asked. “Kit or Jean?”

Tommy made a face at him. “You dopey guy!” he cried. “Kit has a whole college to go through! How could she get married?”

Buzzy shrugged. “I can’t figure out what women can do. Hey, Tommy, give us the key to the gym locker, will you? We got a ball game, today.”

Tommy tossed him the key. “I’ll meet you guys out on the field,” he said. “I want to wait for Jack.”

Billy and Buzzy vaulted the porch railing and raced down the driveway. Tommy put his hands in his pockets and sat down on the swing. He whistled as he swung himself back and forth.

Pretty soon the Craigs’ car turned in the drive, and Tommy jumped up. Waving, he dashed down the steps and waited till Mrs. Craig had pulled the car up in front of the house.

Jack opened the door and was about to jump out when Mrs. Craig restrained him.

“Just a minute, Jack,” she said. “You mustn’t be so active!”

“Aw, Mom!” Jack protested, but he waited till she came around to help him out. Tommy supported him on the other side.

“I’m well, Tommy!” he cried. “I can get up ’n’ _everything_!”

Mrs. Craig laughed. “Easy, son,” she advised. “Dr. Loring said you were just to get up for a little while each day.”

Jack shrugged. “Aw, gee,” he complained. “Do I have to go back to bed now?”

Mrs. Craig nodded. “I’m afraid so, Jack.”

Jack grimaced. “I’m sick of that old bed!”

After Jack had been settled in his room, Tommy and Mrs. Craig came downstairs together. Tommy turned to his mother, puzzled.

“What’s with him?” he asked. “For months he lies there and doesn’t make a peep. Now all of a sudden he gets dopey and cross.”

Mrs. Craig laughed. “And I don’t blame him. As long as he knew he was sick, he just grinned and took it. Now he knows he’s well again and he’s impatient to be up leading a normal life.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said thoughtfully. “Gee, I sure wish he could see the game!”

Mrs. Craig patted her son’s head. “There will be lots of ballgames.” She sighed heavily. “Aren’t you supposed to be practicing for the game? I have a million things to do today, and I don’t want you underfoot.”

“You don’t practice for a ballgame the day you play it,” Tommy explained. “You just warm up.”

His mother smiled. “Then run along and warm up. Scat!”

Tommy grinned and made a dash for the door. He turned and called, “Keep your fingers crossed for us. Don’t forget!”

Mrs. Craig chuckled. “I will, dear.”

She went upstairs and stopped before Kit’s closed door. Inside she could hear soft voices.

“Girls,” she called, knocking at the door. “Aren’t you ever coming down for breakfast?”

“Come in, Mother,” Kit called back.

Kit and Doris were sitting on Kit’s unmade bed. They still wore their pajamas, and their hair was still uncombed.

“For heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Craig said. “It’s after nine o’clock! Goodness, you’d better hurry!”

Kit yawned and stretched. “It’s just lovely, being able to lounge around like this. We’ve been awake for hours!”

Mrs. Craig sat down on the edge of the bed and hugged her daughters. “You’re a couple of lazy ne’er-do-wells!” she said. “Now, up with you!”

Both girls jumped up and disappeared into the bathroom. Mrs. Craig could hear the shower going full blast. She smiled and started to pick up the bedroom.

Doris came out, fully clothed. “Oh, Mother, don’t,” she cried. “We’ll straighten things!”

Mrs. Craig looked at her daughter and suppressed a laugh. Doris’s face was a study in consternation.

“Ralph’s train comes in at three this afternoon,” Doris said finally.

“Yes, dear. I know,” Mrs. Craig replied.

Doris sat down and gazed out of the window. “This is awful to say when he’s _practically_ my brother, but I sort of want to go to the ballgame.”

Kit came in, rubbing her head with a towel. “Since when are you so interested in baseball? I didn’t know you knew a ball from a bat!”

Doris blushed. “When a girl’s own brother has an important game, I think she ought to see it!”

“Humph!” Kit said. “The girl’s own brother has had a whole series of games this summer. I’ll bet you haven’t seen one yet!”

“That’s enough, Kit,” Mrs. Craig said severely.

Kit smiled. “I’m sorry, Doris,” she said, putting on a pair of blue jeans. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”

Mrs. Craig put an arm around Doris’s shoulder. “Never mind about Ralph coming, dear,” she said. “I’m sure both he and Jean will understand.”

Jean came in while Doris and Kit were eating breakfast. She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a doughnut from the cookie jar.

“I had breakfast at the hospital,” she told her mother, “but I’ll eat a little something just to be sociable.”

Mrs. Craig gazed fondly at her three daughters as they ate a leisurely breakfast. Kit, in blue jeans and cotton plaid shirt, had her bare feet wrapped around the rungs of her chair. Doris was pretty in a soft cotton frock. She wore loafers and no socks, but her bare legs were brown enough to give the illusion of stockings. Jean, on the other hand, was crisp and white in her nurse’s uniform.

Jean set down her coffee cup. “Mother,” she said finally, “is it all right if Ralph and I get married this fall?”

Doris and Kit looked at their sister.

“You sound as if you were planning a picnic,” Kit drawled.

“Well, for goodness sake,” Jean replied, “we’ve got to start planning _sometime_.”

“Of course you do, dear,” Mrs. Craig said.

“We thought an October wedding would be nice,” Jean cried. “October is my favorite month of the year.”

“Where do you want to be married? What church, I mean?” Mrs. Craig asked.

Jean jumped up and hugged her mother. “Oh, Mother,” she cried, “can’t I be married right here at home? I love this house so!”

Mrs. Craig beamed. “Of course, dear. We were hoping that’s what you would want.”

“Me, too,” Kit cried. “I wouldn’t be married _anywhere_ else!”

Mrs. Craig stared at Kit. “Great heavens!” she cried. “You aren’t planning a wedding, too!”

Kit laughed. “Of course not! Not for years and years. By the time I’m ready to be married, I’ll be a plump little middle-aged woman, and Frank will be in a wheel chair.”

Mrs. Craig and the other girls were quiet for a moment. Finally Mrs. Craig said, “Then you’ve made a definite choice.”

Kit hesitated. “I ... I think so, Mother. I’m not sure.”

Doris stood up. “Come on, Jean,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

Kit caught her arm. “No, wait, Doris. There’s no reason you can’t hear this, too.” She studied her plate. “Frank and I talked a little bit about it while I was in Washington. Of course I want to finish school. But I ... I think I’m really in love with Frank Howard, Mother.”

Mrs. Craig sighed and folded her hands. “That’s the important thing, Kit,” she said. “And your father and I think he is a very fine person.”

Doris and Jean squealed.

“That’s wonderful, Kit!” Jean cried.

“Oh, jeepers! It’s thrilling!” Doris echoed.

Kit grimaced. “I’m sorry. Let’s get back to the wedding. Let’s have it in October with lots of bitter-sweet around and the bride and bridesmaids in bright autumn colors....”

“Hey, whose wedding is this?” Jean cried.

Kit scowled at her playfully. “Oh, you’ll want the regular conventional white and pastel wedding.”

“Well, what’s wrong with white and pastel?” Jean wanted to know.

Kit shrugged. “It’s your wedding,” she agreed. “Go ahead. Don’t be imaginative. I don’t care.”

“Oh, Mother!” Jean cried.

Mrs. Craig laughed in exasperation. “You all sound as if you were children again. My goodness, Kit, _whatever_ is wrong with you this morning?”

Kit laughed. “Oh, nothing. I’m just jealous. Everyone’s going to have her beau on hand but me.”

“And I don’t have any beau on hand or anywhere else,” Doris said, tossing her head.

Kit looked at her. “Is that so?” she drawled.

Doris jumped up, her cheeks scarlet. “Mother!” she cried. “Make her stop!”

Mrs. Craig sighed in exasperation. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t too big for me to turn over my knee, Katherine Craig!” she said.

Kit jumped up and put her arm around Doris. “I’m sorry, Doris,” she cried. “I was just teasing you.”

Jean was puzzled. “Whatever is this all about?” she asked. Kit started to explain, but Mrs. Craig broke in firmly.

“Tommy brought a friend home to dinner the other night, Jean,” she said. “A very nice boy from Mercyville. He won a scholarship to Timothy College, too. And he seemed to be very fond of Doris. That’s all.”

Jean whistled. “A friend of Tommy’s? He must be a baby!”

Doris stamped her foot. “He’s almost as old as Kit!” she said. “I think you’re both ... awful!” And she ran from the kitchen.

Mrs. Craig looked at her older daughters sternly. “Now really, girls,” she said, “I’m ashamed of you both!”

Jean and Kit looked at each other, crestfallen.

“Oh, golly,” Jean said. “I keep forgetting Doris is growing up.”

Mrs. Craig looked at them severely. “It would help if you two could remember how mixed up and difficult life seemed to be when you were her age.”

Kit jumped up impulsively. “We’re both dreadful,” she admitted. “But we’ll make it up to her. Why don’t we invite Bert to dinner? After the game?”

“I think it’s up to Doris,” Mrs. Craig replied. “I’ll suggest it, though,” she said, relenting a little.

Jean got up and went into the parlor. Doris was sitting on the piano bench, her hands resting on the piano keys. Jean slipped her arm around her sister’s shoulders.

“Your new friend sounds very nice, Doris,” she said shyly. “I hope I can meet him soon.”

Doris grinned. “He’s really quite wonderful,” she admitted candidly. “And he’s asked me out for our first date ... to a concert ... next week!”

19. Elmhurst vs. Mercyville

The bleachers of the ballpark at Elmhurst High School were rapidly filling. Down on the field, Tommy was throwing a ball to his warm-up catcher, and Billy and Buzzy, together with the rest of the school team, were running, catching balls that were batted out to them, and playing catch.

The Mercyville team was on the other side of the field warming up. Doris and Kit climbed into their bleacher seats just back of first base and watched the practice eagerly.

“I don’t know so much about baseball,” Kit admitted. “We should have brought someone along who knows the game.”

“Yes,” Doris agreed.

At three o’clock, the game started. Mercyville was at bat first, and Kit felt her heart sink as Tommy, the pitcher, faced the first batter. He looked very small and young as he took his windup.

Tommy retired the first two batters, but the third man to face him singled to right field. Buzzy Hancock, who was playing right field, caught the ball on the first bounce and hurled it to the second baseman. The Mercyville runner, who had rounded first base, saw the Elmhurst second baseman catch the ball, and he scooted back to first. Tommy tugged the neck of his shirt and turned to pitch to the fourth batter. He struck the boy out on four pitches.

Kit sighed with relief and settled back. Doris gnawed the end of her finger.

“I wish I hadn’t come,” she confessed to Kit. “This is awful!”

Kit, realizing that Doris’s loyalties were divided, nodded sympathetically.

They watched the game in silence for two innings. Mercyville finally scored two runs, but Tommy was still pitching well.

Finally Kit and Doris heard Jean call to them from the back of the bleachers.

“Hey, there!” she called. “Is there room for two more down there?”

“Oh, golly, there’s Jean with Ralph!” Kit cried. “Come on down!” she called to them. “There’s lots of room.”

Jean and Ralph made their way through the crowd. Doris and Kit squeezed over to make room for them. Ralph grabbed their hands in welcome as he sat down.

“When Ralph heard there was a ballgame,” Jean explained, “he insisted on coming. We haven’t even been home yet!”

“Mercyville is ahead by two runs,” Kit lamented.

“Yes, we heard,” Ralph said.

“I’m glad we have someone who knows the game with us, now,” Doris said. “Kit and I can’t make head or tail out of what is going on.”

As the game progressed, Ralph gave the three girls a thorough lesson in the game of baseball. Mercyville held their lead until the ninth inning, when Elmhurst pushed a run across the plate.

Doris could see Bert Cramer wave to his field captain from the bench. The boy ran over to Bert and held a hurried conference with him. Elmhurst had runners on first and third base with one man out. Mercyville was worried.

The Mercyville team captain, acting upon Bert’s instructions, called for a new pitcher.

“That’s smart baseball,” Ralph said. “We have a right-handed batter next, and so Mercyville is putting in a right-handed pitcher.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Jean asked.

Ralph chuckled. “There is a theory that a right-handed batter has trouble getting a hit off a right-handed pitcher.”

The new Mercyville pitcher struck the first batter out. A groan went up from the bleachers. Most of the spectators were rooting for Elmhurst. And the last batter of all hit an easy grounder to the second baseman. The game was over, and Mercyville had beaten Elmhurst, two to one.

Ralph and the girls made their way down through the crowd to the field, where Tommy was standing beating his hand into his mitt dejectedly.

“You pitched a _whale_ of a game, Tommy,” Ralph said, holding out his hand. “There’s no reason to feel bad. Your whole team looked good.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said sadly. “Boy, I never thought we could hold them. But when we came so close, it sort of hurt to lose.”

Ralph smiled. “I know, old man. Their generalship beat you. Their players aren’t any better, but that boy who manages the team knows a thing or two about the game.”

Tommy grinned wryly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “My pal!”

Bert Cramer trotted across the field. He held out his hand to Tommy. “That was some game!” he cried. “You had us really worried.”

“You were swell today,” Tommy said heartily.

Bert turned around and saw Doris. “Gee, I didn’t know _you_ were here,” he exclaimed.

“This is my sister, Jean, and her fiance, Ralph MacRae,” Doris said.

Bert shook hands with Ralph. “I’m glad to meet you,” he said.

“And Mother said you were to come to dinner,” Doris continued, coloring slightly.

Bert smiled at Doris. “I’m glad your _mother_ wants me to come,” he said softly.

Doris blushed fiery red. “We all want you to come,” she said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Tommy cried.

“We’d better be getting home,” Jean said. “Ralph still has his bags in the car.” She turned and smiled as Ralph took her arm. “Anyone who wants to come with us, come along. There’s lots of room.”

“We have to clean up,” Tommy said. “Bert and I’ll come along later.”

As soon as they had showered and changed into fresh clothes, Tommy and Bert headed for the Craig farmhouse in Bert’s second-hand Ford. They rehashed the day’s game, play by play.

“Jeepers, I sure wish I had a car of my own!” Tommy sighed. “How did you get yours?”

Bert shifted gears and guided the car towards the outskirts of town. “I just saved up,” he explained. “You see, there are lots of jobs they pay you for at Mercyville. The dirtier the job, the more money it pays. I wanted my own car, so I took on a lot of hard jobs. It’s not so much of a car, but it gets me there.”

“I guess it’s pretty neat in Mercyville,” Tommy said. “You guys always seem to have a swell time.”

The older boy nodded. “It’s a wonderful place,” he agreed. “I get sort of lonely, sometimes,” he added. “I guess it teaches you to get along with people, though. Maybe when you don’t have anyone you can call your very own, you realize how important people can be.”

Tommy nodded in silent agreement.

Bert hesitated. Then he said, “Tommy, you don’t ... mind about my seeing Doris, do you?”

Tommy made a face. “Why in heck should _I_ mind? Except I kind of wish you’d hang around with us guys for a while. Buzzy Hancock and Billy Ellis and the whole gang are swell guys ... you’d like ’em, I know.”

Bert laughed. “I know I’ll like ’em, Tommy, if you say so. But Doris is a swell girl. I like her a lot. And we’ll be going off to school together, and I sort of want to get acquainted.”

Tommy shrugged. “Sisters can be a pain in the neck, sometimes,” he said.

“So can brothers,” Bert answered. “I know. I’ve got hundreds of ’em.”

Tommy laughed. “Doris is a good kid. I’m really glad you like her. Maybe I was just scared you were going to be ... mushy, or something, about her.”

Bert threw back his head and laughed heartily.

“All the time guys think they have to get sentimental about girls. Boy, a fellow with three sisters knows better!” Tommy cried. “Catch _me_ ever getting moony about a girl!”

“Well, we’ll see,” Bert said. “In two or three years you may change your mind.”

The family was out on the front porch when Tommy and Bert arrived. Mrs. Craig had brought out a tray with lemonade and cookies, and everyone was enjoying refreshments in the heat of the late summer afternoon.

“Enter the victor and the vanquished,” Mr. Craig said, as the two boys came up on the porch. “I hear it was a good game.”

“One of the toughest we ever played, sir,” Bert said.

“Yeah, me too,” Tommy agreed. “Hey, look! Food!” He went over to the tray and poured two glasses of lemonade. “Here you go, Bert.”

“Ralph has been explaining the game to us,” Doris said pertly. “Kit and I didn’t exactly know what was going on till he and Jean got there.”

Tommy looked up in disgust. “You might have asked me! I’d have told you anything you wanted to know.”

“Did you bring your violin, Bert?” Kit asked.

Bert smiled up at her. “Now, just by coincidence, I have it in the car.”

Mrs. Craig got up and picked up the tray. “My goodness, let the poor boy rest! He’s been busy today.”

“After dinner, Kit,” Bert promised. “If Doris wants to play.”

Mr. Craig cleared his throat. “If you young people will scatter, I have some things I want to talk over with Jean and Ralph. Seems there’s going to be a wedding around here soon, and there are some details to discuss.”

Tommy jumped up. “Come on, Bert. I want to take Jack down to the hen house and show him my new improvements. You can have a look, too.”

Kit shook her head. “For heaven’s sake, Tommy. Bert is Doris’s guest tonight!” She got up. “I’m going to write a letter. Holler when you want me to help you with dinner, Mother.”

“Aw, jeepers!” Tommy cried. “Come on, Jack. Let’s go!” He dashed down the steps, Jack in tow.

“Not so fast!” Mrs. Craig called. “Please be careful, Jack. Remember, this is your first day up.”

“If you would like to walk down and see the river, it’s just a little way,” Doris said to Bert.

He smiled and jumped up. “Let’s go,” he said.

They wandered down to the banks of the stream which was flowing with midsummer laziness. “This is our scenic high spot,” Doris explained. “I love it here. Whenever anything goes wrong or I feel out of sorts, I come down here to think things out.”

Bert smiled slowly. “Yes, I can imagine,” he said. “It’s beautiful and restful.”

“For instance, I figured out about trying for the scholarship down here by the water. Somehow things seem clearer here.”

“What do you mean? Were you scared about trying out?” Bert asked.

Doris smiled shyly. “Well, not exactly about trying out. But I was mixed up about whether or not I wanted to leave home, even. I don’t seem to have the spunk that Jean and Kit have. They always go out chasing things. I always kind of liked it at home.”

Bert was a born leader. It was hard for him to understand the fears and doubts which plague the shy personality. But he had learned how real these fears and doubts can be when he had worked with younger and shyer boys at Mercyville.

“But you did decide to try out,” he said, underlining her small triumph over her shyness.

She nodded slowly. “I wanted to go so badly,” she said softly.

“I’m glad you did,” Bert whispered. “I love it when you play. It’s like heaven, somehow.” He blushed. “That’s a dopey way to say it, I guess,” he added. “We’ll have a super time down there, I’ll bet.”

Hand in hand, they walked around the farm. Bert saw Tommy’s chicken house and the berry patches and the small woods which stood near the road. Finally, almost reluctantly, they turned towards the big house.

Dinner was almost ready when they returned. Bert stopped at the car and took out his violin. “We can have a concert after dinner, if they like,” he said.

Doris disappeared into the kitchen to help with the dinner, and Bert took his violin into the parlor. As he laid it on the piano, Mr. Craig came into the room.

“Well, hello there, Bert,” he said. “So we’re having a concert after dinner.”

“If you like, sir,” Bert answered.

“Fine, fine,” Mr. Craig said, rubbing his hands.

“Mr. Craig, there is something I would like to tell you,” Bert said hesitantly.

“Why, go right ahead,” Mr. Craig said.

Bert bent over the piano keys and touched a note lovingly. “I guess you’ll think this is sort of funny to talk about. It’s about Doris.”

“What’s on your mind, son?” Mr. Craig said gently.

Bert reddened. “I think Doris is a wonderful girl,” he said in a low voice. “We’re sort of pals, I mean. I like having her for a friend.”

Mr. Craig smiled. “Why, that’s fine, Bert. I’m glad you do. I’m rather fond of her, myself.”

“But you don’t understand, sir,” Bert continued. “And I want to be sure you _do_ understand how I feel. When I’m with her, I don’t exactly feel like a friend, if you know what I mean.” He hit another key. “She makes me feel as if I’d sort of ... like to take care of her and protect her from things.”

Mr. Craig’s first impulse was to chuckle. But he stopped himself and said seriously, “I’m quite glad that you’re so fond of Doris, son. You see, she’s a great one for hiding her light under a barrel. Someone near her own age can make her see how foolish some of her fears are better than her parents can.”

Bert nodded solemnly.

“But as for you,” Mr. Craig said. “I would say that you have pretty normal feelings for a boy your age. After all, a seventeen-year-old boy is getting to be pretty grown up. Naturally he finds some girls attractive.”

“I’m almost eighteen, Mr. Craig,” Bert said. “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t mind. I mean, with my background, and everything.”

Mr. Craig frowned. “Certainly you’re not ashamed of your background!”

“Oh, no, sir! The only life I remember is life at Mercyville. I could never be ashamed of living there!”

“Then I guess we don’t need to talk about it any more, son,” Mr. Craig said.

“Thank you, Mr. Craig,” Bert said. “I’m glad what I said made you sort of angry. A lot of people don’t ... don’t really understand.”

After dinner, Doris and Bert played together in the parlor. Mr. and Mrs. Craig sat hand in hand on the porch swing listening to the strains of a Haydn sonata.

“It seems to me that I’ve been giving advice to a lot of young men today,” Mr. Craig commented dryly. “Ralph, about to step into matrimony, and Bert, about to hurl himself into his first romance....”

“Then Bert is really interested in Doris?” Mrs. Craig asked.

Mr. Craig chuckled a little. “So he tells me.”

Mrs. Craig grinned. “He certainly is a forthright young man. I like him.”

“Yes, so do I. Well, I hope our young friends will profit by what I had to offer in the way of advice. I never felt less qualified in my life.”

Mrs. Craig squeezed his hand. “I think you’re the most qualified husband in the world!”

20. Sweethearts’ Dance

The ballroom of the Elmhurst Inn was lit by Japanese lanterns which threw soft colored lights down on the dancers, who were swaying dreamily to the music of a local dance band.

The strains of “Stardust” filled the room, and Jean squeezed Ralph’s hand tenderly. “This is perfect,” she whispered. “This is as close to heaven as I’ve ever been!”

Ralph looked down at the girl who was soon to be his wife. Her short dark curls were caught in a white and silver ribbon which matched the net evening frock she wore. Her large dark eyes were sparkling with happiness. Ralph held her close to him.

“This is our party, darling,” he whispered. “The whole town ... the whole world ... is dancing because we are in love.”

“The whole world except Kit and Frank,” Jean giggled. “Goodness, I hope his train is on time.”

“It is,” Ralph laughed. “Kit checked a half dozen times. They should be here in another fifteen minutes.”

They drifted past the bandstand, and the band leader saluted them with his baton.

“Somehow, everything seems so complete,” Jean said. “Look at Father and Mother over there. You’d think this was _their_ wedding party instead of ours.”

Ralph glanced over and smiled. Mr. and Mrs. Craig were lost in each other. Ralph was suddenly struck by a happy thought. Much as the Craigs loved their family, they had had no time for just each other in many, many years. As their children were growing older and preparing to leave home, Mr. and Mrs. Craig seemed to be looking forward eagerly to the day when they could have each other for themselves, alone.

“They’re a handsome couple,” Ralph said. “One reason I picked you, of course. A look at your mother convinced me I’d have a beautiful wife forever.”

“You’re an idiot!” Jean cried as the music came to an end.

“Not at all. That’s very important,” Ralph teased. “Come on, let’s get some punch.”

Eileen and Dr. Benson were at the punch bowl. Jean grinned at them and introduced Gerald to Ralph.

The red-haired doctor studied Ralph for a moment. “So _you’re_ the man our patient Griselda waited for. I’m glad to meet you, MacRae.” He held out his hand.

Ralph grabbed it and shook it warmly. “It’s a pleasure,” he said. “I’ve heard all about you.”