A C. C. Patient

A C. C PATIENT By Irene McCullough It had been a trying day for Richard, and at times the pains were almost more than he could bear. He must not give up. What would his dear Mother do without him? Since Father died, he had tried to help lighten the burden she had to carry by making the fires, cleaning up the yard, and after school doing odd jobs for the neighbors for which they paid him well as the work was always done satisfactorily. The room was beginning to fill with shadows as the last rays of the setting sun flitted across his bed. Miss Wing, the little night nurse, would soon be on duty. Her bright, happy smile always cheered him up. She knew just how to arrange his pillows, which, just at present, felt like bags of cement under his aching head, and do ever so many other little things which would make him more comfortable. He was just dozing off into a restless sleep when he was awakened by voices in the hall. "And who is the little fellow in there?" sounded a kind voice. "Oh, that is just a C. C. patient," answered Miss Reid, the day nurse. Richard's heart almost stopped beating; tears welled up into his large blue eyes, but he angrily brushed them aside. "Just a C. C. patient." The words burned into his little soul. "A Church Charity patient." In all his life Richard had never been hurt so. "I suppose I don't amount to much after all, and it would not make much differ- ence if I did die." For a few minutes Richard did not care, but then when he thought of his Mother and the dear Bishop who had brought him into the hospital, he knew they wanted him to live. Had they not sat up night after night with him, praying and doing all they could to make him well? They loved him, and wanted him to get better. He wiped the tears from his eyes with a new determination, and said half aloud, "I won't always be poor. Would not now if Father had lived. I will get well and be someone in the world yet." "Well, how's my boy tonight?" asked Miss Wing as she quietly came into the room and began to make him comfortable for the night, doing what might seem trivial things to a well person, but to a sick person they were indispensable. "You look so much better." "I am, too," replied Richard. "I am going to get well." "Sure you are. I always knew that a boy like you could not be kept down." Richard's eyes beamed. She did not think of him as just a C. C. patient. She thought he was a boy worth while, so he would not get discouraged just because Miss Reid had spoken so slightingly of him. "Miss Reid will never make a good nurse," thought Richard, "as she does not know how to make people happy." And he closed his tired

A C. C. PATIENT 1159 eyes and fell into a happy sleep, determining in his little mind to be a success. Richard got well and strong again. His prospects in life looked none too bright at first, but he was not easily discouraged. He had an ambition. Miss Reid, the day nurse, had given it to him at the time her words hurt, but now they were his inspiration. Mrs. Fletcher, his mother, had to get out and work as the little insurance her husband had left was not enough to keep her and the- four children. She was proud of Richard, and, seeing how determined he was to finish his schooling, did all she could to help him. When he told her his ambi- tion was to be a doctor, she could not see how that could possibly be accomplished, it took so much money now days, but then there was no use discouraging the boy. Something might turn up to help them. With hard work, Richard finished high school. It had been a struggle, but he came through with flying colors. Now the big climb ahead. College! Could he make it? Well, he was going to try. He worked all Summer at a gas station, getting twenty-five dollars a week. He saved as much as possible, and by the time school started he had put enough money away to pay for his tuition and books for the year. It was taking a long chance in trying to earn enough money to clothe himself, with the little work he could get after his long school hours. The unexpected happened. Mrs. Fletcher decided to get mar- ried. She did not marry a rich man, but he was very industrious and always had good work. Having no children of his own, he took an added interest in Richard, so with his help Richard succeeded in get- ting through college, and we find him as an interne in one of the large hospitals in Boston. "Gee, it's been a struggle," thought Richard as he sat down to make out his report for the day, "but well worth while, and to think I can spend part of my time in the Children's Charity hospital, the dream of my life coming true." Dr. Sprague, head surgeon of the hospital, came in just then. "I have a delicate operation to perform tonight on the little boy in Ward Four. Will you have him ready?" "Certainly," responded Richard. Richard beamed. To work with Dr. Sprague was an honor, ard all the internes jumped at the chance. He looked up the child's case, getting all the information possible on it. Things were prepared right and all in order when Dr. Sprague arrived. The child was a charity patient, but to Richard it was a more important case on that account. The operation was a serious one, and Dr. Sprague kept Richard busy helping, but the boy did not fail him. He worked quickly and intelli- gently, obeying every order the doctor gave as if his life depended on it. When they had finished, Dr. Sprague said: "I am leaving for New York in the morning, and I want you to take care of the child. Can I trust you not to neglect him?" "Here's my hand on it, Doctor," replied Richard.

1160 IMPROVEMENT ERA The boy pulled through, but Richard had to work day and night. He never neglected him for a moment; every detail was given the great- est attention. In taking care of little Jerry, he became better ac- quainted with the other children. They learned to love him, and watch for his visits. Before his interne work was completed, he had charge of the children's division. Dr. Sprague always had him now to help him with his operations. He depended on Richard. If he left town, Richard was put in charge of his patients. One morning, a week before Richard was to leave the hospital for good, Dr. Sprague sent for him. "Well, my boy, what are your plans for the future?" "As yet, Doctor, I have none, except to get out and work up a practice as all young physicians have to do." Dr. Sprague thought a moment, then said: "I am very much in need of an assistant here. I am not as young as I used to be, and I can't keep up the pace. How would you like to stay here and work with me?" Richard had dreamed dreams, but never dared dream of being in with the great Dr. Sprague. Tears sprang into his eyes. Dr. Sprague needed no answer, so he went on: "You see, my boy, it's like this. I have always made a specialty of children's ailments, because I love the children. There is such satisfaction in seeing a child get well so it can go on and enjoy life again. I have made money on account of my success with them, but I have enjoyed my work and intend to give the rest of my life to it. I am more than pleased to know you will be with me, for I have watched your work and I think I have chosen the right assistant. Well, we must get busy. Miss Smith, supervisor of the children's hospital, is leaving, and I am expecting a number of appli- cants for the position. I will get you to interview them, and select the nurse you think will be able to fill the position most satisfactorily." You can imagine Richard's joy to be able to start out with a sal- ary and time to work up his own practice. Now he could help the folks at home and repay a few of their kindnesses. Was ever a young man so blessed? His dreaming came to an abrupt ending as an orderly announced the arrival of two nurses who had come to apply for the position of supervisor. Richard interviewed them and several others that day, but he had not been able to select one as yet. They all lacked that something he was looking for. "A Miss Reid to see you," announced the orderly. "Show her in," answered Richard. Without paying particular attention to the new-comer, Richard began going over her record. No nurse he had talked to that day had been so highly recommended. "I might as well hire her," he thought. "I must have someone right away." He glanced up. Where had he seen that face before? In another second he remembered, and again those words ran through his brain: "Just a C. C. patient." They

A C. C. PATIENT 1161 did not bring tears to' his eyes this time. Miss Reid, with all her di- plomas and recommendations, could not look after his children. To him the words had been a help, but they might have been the ruin of some other child. "Miss Reid, you will not do," he said. Next morning Richard was down at the office early, but already he had a visitor. He looked in and made a survey of the young woman. Just a mere girl, twenty-one or two, bobbed hair, rosy cheeks, not the painted kind, neat, blue suit and tan shoes. She seemed to be happy though a little impatient as she walked around the room, looking first at one picture and then another. "Good morning," said Richard as he swung open the door. "Good morning. I do hope I am not too late. You see, I took the first train here when I learned of the vacancy. All my life I have wanted to be where I could just look after the children, and help to make them well. Please don't say I am too late and that you have already engaged someone else." At last she stopped long enough to take a breath, then went on: "I have very few references as I have not been out of training long, but I know I can please you, if you will let me try." Richard's smile had spread all over his face and his eyes were fairly dancing. At last he had found the nurse he was looking for. "You're hired," he cried. "You can start at once." Mary Ann was her name, and she more than lived up to Richard's expectation. The children soon learned to love her and their little faces would light up with joy when they heard her voice. Richard, too, fell in love with Mary Ann; and it wasn't long before the children's hospital needed a new supervisor. Salt Lake City. Discontent Divine Oh, what is this that steals our sweet content; That bids us not to rest on laurels won, But with an urge, persistent and austere, Persuades us to press onward, ever on? It is God's way, eternal as the stars, To fill us with a discontent divine, A wish to gain that something just ahead Which will the dross within our souls refine. A reaching for the fruits of tasks well done, A grasping for the best there is in sight, A firm desire to tread the thorny path Which leadeth on to wisdom, pow'r and light. 'Tis well, for through these means, by slow degrees, Each step in time will make a mighty sum, Until at length we scale the glorious height, And as our God now is we may become. Raymond, Canada. HELEN KIMBALL ORGILL.