The man, an old friend of the family, re-examined her most thoroughly3, and noted4 the symptoms again. Mrs. Wilkinson watched anxiously at the bedside, and Queenie, in the doorway5, was very near to tears.
“Pleurisy!” he muttered finally. “I feared it yesterday.” Then he gave Mrs. Wilkinson some directions, and went down stairs in search of her husband. Stealthily Queenie followed, pausing in the hall, to hear if possible the real verdict.
“It looks pretty serious to me, Wilkinson,” she heard the doctor say; “Marjorie’s condition is poor—she is completely run down. I should advise a nurse.”
Queenie stifled6 a sob7, not only at the gravity of her illness, but at the idea of bringing in some one218 strange to do for her what Queenie herself longed to do. If she were only a nurse!
“Certainly—by all means,” Mr. Wilkinson was saying. “Will you arrange for it, Doctor?”
“Yes; I’ll get the most capable one I know of—and hope to have her here by noon. In the meantime, Mrs. Wilkinson has directions.”
Queenie could restrain herself no longer; she burst into the room and took hold of the doctor’s coat lapels.
“Oh, no,” answered the doctor gravely; “she has a good chance. Marjorie has always been healthy.”
“It’s her first real sickness since childhood,” supplied Mr. Wilkinson, with an effort towards cheerfulness. “And that ought to help.”
“No doubt it will,” came the doctor’s reassuring10 reply.
“But please tell me what I can do!” begged the girl tremulously.
“Just whatever Mrs. Wilkinson tells you,” answered the physician. “And try to keep your spirits up,” he added, as he picked up his case.
After he had gone, Queenie looked desperately11 at Mr. Wilkinson, and repeated her question.
“Well, I should think that you could wait on Mrs. Wilkinson, as the doctor said, and answer the telephone when friends inquire about Marjorie, and219 write notes if she receives flowers, and help with the housework and marketing12——”
“Oh, I can! I’m sure I can!” she cried, in relief to find that she could actually be of some service.
The hours dragged wearily by; Marjorie almost a ghost of her former self, lay on the bed, motionless and almost lifeless while the hideous13 disease worked its calamity14 in her system. Queenie tiptoed in and out of the room at Mrs. Wilkinson’s call, but Marjorie was totally unaware15 of her presence. At noon the nurse, a splendidly capable young woman, arrived and relieved the tired mother, who consented to go to bed. Queenie was thankful to go out and do the marketing; for a while at least she would be too busy to think.
Early in the evening Mr. Richards came to inquire after Marjorie, and, seeing how tired and nervous Queenie was, offered to take her out for a ride in the car. Queenie assented16 indifferently, unable to find much interest in anything.
“Isn’t she the least bit better?” he asked, as they started. “Not the tiniest bit?”
“No,” returned Queenie dismally17. “If anything, she’s worse. The doctor’s afraid of pneumonia18 now. A night-nurse is coming on to-morrow.”
“I wish that I could do something,” said Mr. Richards.
“That’s the dreadful thing, Mr. Richards—we can’t do anything! Those strange nurses, who mean nothing to her, can do everything, and all we can do is sit back and hope. Oh, it makes me feel terrible! Suppose she dies!—I can’t help thinkin’ of all the mean things I’ve done to her, and said to her—Oh!—Oh!——” Suddenly she drooped20 her head upon the back of the seat and sobbed21 miserably22.
“Don’t—please don’t take it so hard, little girl,” the young man pleaded, surprised and affected23 by the depth of the girl’s feeling. “I don’t think Miss Wilkinson ever thinks of anything like that.”
“Yes, yes, she must!” Queenie protested. “The first night she saw us we were so awful, made fun of her, and laughed at her—and then that hike, when we picked up those fellows—Gee! How I wish I’d never seen them! And then the time I left her in the lurch24 at the game on account of that worthless Sam MacDonald and forced her to play! Oh, Mr. Richards, do you s’pose that’s what made her sick? If it’s my fault—and she dies——” She ended in another volley of weeping.
Mr. Richards slowed down and laid a sympathetic hand upon her shoulder.
“Please don’t blame yourself so, Queenie,” he said softly. “Of course it wasn’t your fault. And you were young and thoughtless then—and didn’t know any better. Now you’re a young woman—and a very admirable young woman; Miss Wilkinson must be proud and happy to know how splendidly you have developed. Six months ago you didn’t have the capacity to feel in this way. And surely your captain isn’t going to die; she’s going to live, and rejoice in your friendship. Your duty is not to dwell on the past, and what you have been but to think of what you can still do to make her proud of you!”
Queenie grew calmer at these reassuring words and the sympathetic manner and sat up and dried her eyes. At that moment, Mr. Richards seemed like the most wonderful man in the world to her.
“I’m going to live in that belief,” she announced resolutely25. “Now drive me home, so that I can write some notes to the scouts26. All of the girls in the troop will want to hear just how Miss Wilkinson is.”
“All right, and I’ll help you if I may,” he rejoined. “I can drop your notes into the post office tonight.”
As soon as he was gone she crept noiselessly to bed—half happy and half sad. This new friendship seemed wonderful to her, yet if she was to have it at the cost of Marjorie’s illness, it was not worth it.
The next day brought little change in the patient’s condition. Flowers and notes and messages continued to arrive, but Marjorie was oblivious27 to all that was going on. Queenie took charge of everything, and presently fell into a routine of duties which at least kept her calm.
To her surprise, however, she found no word from John Hadley, no expression of concern from the one person who she expected would be most solicitous28. This seemed so strange to her that she mentioned the fact to Jack at dinner, and he replied that he had heard that he had gone out of town.
“But he knows she is sick,” continued Queenie; “because I told him the day he brought me to college.”
“I believe he was here that first night to inquire,” remarked Jack. “Are you sure he hasn’t telephoned?”
“Not when I was at home,” answered the girl.
The day nurse entered the room softly and stood in the doorway, a mute appeal in her eyes. Mrs. Wilkinson rose anxiously.
“I’m afraid Miss Marjorie’s worse,” she whispered. “I think we had better call the doctor—and suggest a consultation29. I expect the crisis tonight.”
“Oh!” gasped30 Queenie, choking over the food she had put into her mouth, but with a great effort summoning her control. She had already learned the necessity of self-restraint.
Mr. Wilkinson went to the telephone, and Mrs. Wilkinson returned to the sick room with the nurse. Queenie turned to her supper and tried to eat.
In half an hour the doctors were there, and the young people retired31 to the library, to await the result of the consultation. The minutes dragged by; neither Jack nor Queenie made any attempt to talk; both sat listlessly staring at the newspapers in their223 hands, without making any pretense32 at reading them. At last the doctors left, but it was some time before they could get any information.
Finally the nurse came down to telephone a prescription33 and Jack seized upon her eagerly.
“We don’t know anything more,” she replied quietly; “only that if your sister lives through tonight, she is likely to get well.”
Jack swallowed hard and Queenie began to sob.
“Do—you expect her to?” he finally managed to inquire.
“We hope so,” was the unassuring reply. “She is asleep now, under a drug. When she wakens up——”
“About what time?” demanded Queenie.
“Probably about midnight. The doctor is coming back to spend the night here.”
Queenie watched the nurse go back to the sick room and she sat still, pondering.
“I tell you what I’m going to do, Jack,” she said slowly: “I’m going to bed now and set my alarm for about two o’clock.” She began to weep again. “Oh, Jack! She must live!”
“Sure—she’s going to!” he managed to say, with forced cheerfulness.
Queenie went sound asleep the minute her head touched the pillow, fortified34 by the belief that she would be awake at the crucial moment. But so tired was she from the exhaustion35 and strain of the last three or four days, that she slept more soundly than224 she had expected. The alarm went off unheeded; it was not until the morning sun streamed into the room that she finally opened her eyes. Then she jumped up in horror and remorse36 at her error. Suppose—suppose—that Marjorie had died!
She rushed out into the hall, flinging a kimona around her shoulders as she went, and almost bumped into Mrs. Wilkinson in the passageway. The mother’s face was haggard, but a great look of peace flooded it.
“Tell me! Tell me!” whispered the girl, clutching her arm.
“The crisis is past—and Marjorie’s alive!” replied Mrs. Wilkinson. “But so weak! She spoke37 once to me—calling ‘Mother,’ but she doesn’t seem to know anybody else.”
She went back into her room, and dressed. A deep feeling of thankfulness filled her heart; she made tremendous resolves as she went about her task, pledging herself to a veritable life of service. She would do anything, anything at all, that Marjorie asked, in the future.
The morning brought many visitors, inquiring for the sick girl, and many boxes of flowers. Queenie received them all, happier than she had ever been in her life before.
In the evening Mr. Richards came again, and took her for a ride. To him, too, she seemed like a totally different girl.
“You are ready to think about your own future now?” he asked, smiling at her gaiety.
“I guess so—when I’m sure Miss Wilkinson’s better. Oh, Mr. Richards, do you think she will be able to graduate?”
“I should think so. Spring vacation isn’t over yet—she really hasn’t been ill long.”
“No, it only seems long.”
Again he made an effort to induce Queenie to talk about herself.
“I have something in mind for you, Queenie,” he said. “Are you interested?”
“Yes, if it will wait until next week. I have a lot to do here, now.”
He saw that it was indeed useless, for when they returned to the house, they found that the night nurse had been called away and Queenie was swift to offer her services.
“Please try me tonight, Mrs. Wilkinson!” she urged. “I’ll be ever so careful!”
“You are sure you want to?” asked the mother. “I will sleep in the next room, and the day nurse on the other side.”
“Oh, yes, please!” She put her whole soul into her pleading.
“All right then—and promise to call me if anything happens.”
“I promise!” breathed Queenie, thankful to be considered so responsible.
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1
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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2
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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3
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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7
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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8
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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10
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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12
marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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13
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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14
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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15
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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16
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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18
pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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19
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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20
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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26
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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27
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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29
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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30
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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31
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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32
pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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33
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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34
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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35
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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36
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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37
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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38
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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