--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Stone, Ivy Williams collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 33 number: 9 published: 1930-07 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Ivy Williams Stone, “Out of the Burning,” *Improvement Era* 33, no. 9 (July 1930): 606–609." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3309unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera3309unse start_page: 606 end_page: 609 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1930-07) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3309unse publication_year: 1930 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1930, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Out of the Burning Out of the Burniri Ai .FTER three years in finishing school, Portia Har- rison came home with an elab- orate diploma. She had handiwork of hammered brass and tooled leather, painted pictures and fancy china. She spoke a little polite French, but to her father's disgust, knew nothing of A Tale of Two Cities. She had a loving cup for the best score in golf; she had ridden the horse that made the best hurdle jump. She had a book full of recipes for midnight lunches. Her hair had a brittle, lack-lustre appearance, showing the effect of many permanents and several attempts at tinting. Like the Curly who came down from Crow's Nest, the hair at the scalp was valiantly trying to assert its own heritage. But in spite of her gay appearance and elaborate wardrobe, Portia seemed bored, as if weary with life as she found it. A: .FTER three years in training, Pamela Harrison attended a simple but impressive ceremony and emerged a graduate nurse. White uniform and black striped cap; what an enormous outlay of energy they signified! Weeks of wearying routine ; unquestion- ing obedience ; nights devoted to study when her body cried for rest. Suspense, crowned with pride; de- feat, tinged with re gret. In the none- too-large audience were her parents, Aunt Eunice and Doctor Locke, all reflecting pride and satisfaction. Doc- tor Dick, The Shadow, had ob- tained leave of ab- sence for the occa- casion. Even Portia, who was herself just returned, came with Spike Reeves and tried not to appear bored. A fortnight later, Pa- mela was called back to the hospital for her first spe cial case. In comparison to her IVY WILLIAMS STONE Chapter Eight previous wages, the sum of seven dollars a day seemed munificent. She felt keenly independent, al- most rich, as she reported for duty. Miss Harrison," the supervisor spoke crisply and impersonally, "you are fortunajte to have such a simple case to be- gin with. There will be no opera- tion ; it is simply recuperation after verucca pedis." She handed Pa- mela one of the familiar charts. "The patient needs mostly to be amused," she added. "The longer he can be kept from using his feet, the better the recovery." The overtaxed supervisor turned to more serious matters, leaving Pa- mela to scan the chart and start her duties. Verucca pedis! How nice to know what the term meant. Thanks to her thorough course in Latin, she "/ need you. too. Pamela." had found the medical terms no stumbling block. Verucca pedis, the simple, but possibly painful, affliction known as foot wart. It was pleasant to know the patient would be neither ether sick nor racked with pain. B. H. Reeves. Pamela glanced at the name on the chart, but was conscious of no special sig- nificance about it. Probably some old gentleman who had been un- aware of a nail in his shoe. He would want her to play endless checkers and read Pickwick Papers. Seven dollars a day! Elated and confident, Pamela pushed open the door and came face to face with Spike Reeves, her sister Portia's constant companion. Morning nurse," grinned that young man, keenly enjoying her surprise, "I asked Dr. Locke to get you. I have already discharged two nurses. Do you know what is the matter with me?" He made a grimace of as- sumed pain. "Verucca pedis," answered Pa- mela, swiftly assuming the im- personal attitude of the profession- al nurse. "You will have to let your feet rest for some time. Do you want your breakfast served at the right or the left of your bed?" "I've been wearing rubber- soled golf shoes too much," grumbled young Mr. Reeves. "Didn't know what was the matter with me at first; felt like a thousand needles sticking in my feet every time I stepped. And in the mornings, when I first got up, WHOOPEE! Now for my break- fast," he contin- ued. "See if you can get me some hot biscuits with plenty of butter and marma- lade. Also, grape fruit and fried liver with scrambled eggs. I've had oatmeal and bran up here sufficient for a lifetime. Later, you The Improvement Era for July, 1930 607 Pamela — White uniform and black- striped cap; what an enormous outlay of energy they signified. can read me the sport page. To think I missed that prize fight!" B: • EFORE the end of the week, Pamela knew she was earning every penny of her seven dollar fee. Spike Reeves was ex- acting, arrogant and irritable. Pa- mela thought of her surmise about checker games and classics and smiled ironically. For hours she read from gorgeous-hued maga- zines, filled with wild, impossible tales of Western daring and ro- mance. Spike demanded special foods, special privileges, and told his friends to disregard the hos- pital calling hours. Wasn't his father a director? Hadn't the old man endowed the X-ray labora- tory? Surely the son of such a generous father was entitled to spe- cific consideration. "Do you know, Pamela," he announced one evening, interrupt- ing the achievements of a "dead- shot lady," "I don't think I will marry Portia, after all." "My name is Miss Harrison." Pamela felt so fed up on this im- possible patient that she disre- garded her training in etiquette. "And I might add that perhaps my sister Portia will not marry you." Secretly she was not so sure of Portia's decision, but she could not let this arrogant rich- man's son feel that the decision lay entirely with him. wH, I believe she would all right," drawled Spike with exasperating assurance. "But we are too much alike. We do nothing but play; neither one of us ever took anything seriously. I never earned one single penny; Portia never earned a penny. Just where would we be at when there were no pennies to spend?" "There is no law against self- support," replied Pamela. "And verucca pedis is not a permanent disablement." "I hardily think Portia and I would make a go of it," persisted Spike. "Still, I rather like the family. I really think the Gover- nor would be pleased if I switched my affections to you." "Let's hurry through this story," Pamela hastened to make conversation, "and finish it before visiting hours. Perhaps Portia will come. Dr. Locke will be here soon, too?" "Oh I say, Pamela," Spike Reeves half rose from his bed and reached out suddenly to embrace his fair-haired nurse, "do you know what to do until the doctor comes?" He laughed at his own quibble, but Pamela was not in her chair to receive the embrace. Instead, she stood at the foot of the bed and addressed her patient in a manner not outlined in any text on sick room etiquette. Y OU should not have been permitted in this hospital!" she cried. "You are occupying a room which is needed by some deserving patient. You are not ill; many a person has verucca and continues with his daily tasks. A special nurse on this job is just marking time. I don't want it. I'm going to wait on people who are really sick. I don't want your old seven dollars a day! I won't stay in a room that's blue with smoke and read absurd stories to a lazy man with normal sight! I hope my sister Portia never mar- ries you!" This outburst was followed by a burst of tears and Pamela dashed from the room, leaving a surprised young man to meditate upon the ways of women. As Pamela had sought refuge from Bud Harrison on the sleeping porch, so she now hurried out to the roof garden, which she knew would be prac- tically deserted at this hour. * * * FROM his comfortable bench beside the cellar Abe Wal- ters felt need for action. The dogs had treed a raccoon and their excited yelps demanded that he finish the job. Sighing over the need for effort in the heat of the afternoon, Abe picked up his gun and leisurely sauntered over the hill toward the commotion. His small, barefoot son tagged, un- noticed, at his heels. A dark ob- ject near the top of a naked, dead tree was the coveted prize. Abe shouldered his gun and fired, but the raccoon did not fall. "Wal, I just natur'lly forgot youns ca'tidges," he spoke to the gun in a mild, regretful tone. A return being too hot and weary, Abe proceeded to set fire to the tree, and sought refuge from the heat under a tree. He fully in- tended to watch developments; but the pleasant shade and slight breeze lulled him to sleep. He was roused from a pleasant dream by frantic screams of a child, and found little Stephen afire! The bare feet were pitifully burned, the little shirt and faded overalls a mass of flames, while the child ran screaming about, fanning the iungry flames. Obeying almost a blind instinct, Abe hurried as he had never done before and dipped the boy in the creek. But while this method effectively quenched fire, it had no healing effect upon the burned body. The little boy writhed in pain and the simple home remedies which the family had, gave no relief. Look- ing at his small namesake, whom he was unable to help, Steve Turner gave quick orders. "Weuns air agoin' ter tote him down yonder ter thet thar doctor man what come up hyar ter see Granny. Curly air a workin' with him in thet thar hospetel too. Curly knows curin' ways." jO it happened • that while Pamela sought to regain her Portia — Home from finishing school. 608 The Improvement Era for July, 1930 self-possession on the roof garden, her attention was attracted to a queer procession filing up the hos- pital walk. Steve Turner stalking ahead, carrying the prostrate boy; Abe Walters following, subdued and chastened. Cassy and Millie bringing up the rear, their faces swollen and reddened with tears. Pamela forgot her own troubles and looked again to make doubly sure of the identity. There was no mistaking Steve Turner's bold, defiant stride, nor the dejected wo- men. Pamela hurried to the ele- vator and met the little procession. "Curly," Steve Turner accepted her appearance as perfectly natural, "our little boy air burned bad. Et is a powerful misery he's got, Curly. Youns an' thet thar doc- tor must keer fur him, Curly." "He's got misery aplenty," sobbed Cassy. "He won't talk no more; he's thet pinin'," Millie struggled for self-control and failed miserably. "I war awatchin' ter see thet thar coon come down," began Abe Walters, "but I nary seed the boy a follerin'. He alius wanted fire; thought et war so purty. I nary — " "Never mind how it happened, Mr. Walters," interrupted Curly, who was again the self-possessecT, efficient nurse. "Stop your cry- ing, Millie. Doctor Locke will cure little Steve." "There would be no doctor's fee," added Doctor Dick. "And there would be no nurse's fee," put in Pamela. "I have just left my last and first case." Doc- tor Locke shot her a quick, under- standing grin. "Hope he has to walk home," he muttered under his breath, which was an honest, if unprofessional, wish. 'There will be drugs and medi- cines and a private room." "I shall ask my father," Pamela had a happy thought. Uf B > UT Doctor Locke was not so optimistic. Up in the consulting room he looked exceed- ingly grave and shook his head as the assembled doctors gazed upon the appalling sight of the naked burns. "Mighty bad, mighty bad," he muttered, inwardly rav- ing *at the man who had dipped the child in the creek. "Hardly know what to do." "Shall we try ambarine?" sug- gested one surgeon. "Burns are too deep," replied Doctor Locke. "Wouldn't do any good." "O Dad, let me take the case," urged the shadow. "I feel sure I could do it with the saline spray, you know." "Too severe," cautioned an- other physician. "I'd keep him under morphine," urged Doctor Dick. "Let me take the case, Dad. There's only one chance in a thousand that the boy will live, but there's that chance." "It will be a long, expensive battle," cautioned Dr. Locke. NDER the skeptical eyes of the hospital staff, Doctor Dick and Nurse Harrison took charge of the mountain boy case. They knew he would die. If he chanced to live, he could never walk; he would be a burden for that poor family, and eventually the state. His knee ligaments would shorten, the arms would wither. Just as Judge Harrison was about to retire that night, he had an unexpected visit from his daughter Pamela. Excitedly she explained her urgent need for money; described the pitiful con- dition of the child until Echo sobbed openly and offered her small savings. Portia, though none too happy that Pamela was caring for Spike Reeves, (as she supposed) , appeared interested and less bored. "I need money. You will help, won't you Father?" "Such an act of utter stupidity is what one might expect from an ignorant mountaineer," mut- tered Judge Harrison. "I suppose he went to sleep and the child fell into the burning tree. And then to submerge him in water!" "But Dad, the cause of the burns is immaterial; it's the cure I want. I've got to have help. If you won't, I'll — " "Who said I wouldn't help?" snapped Judge Harrison. "Go and tend the child, Pamela, if that's what it takes to make you happy. Tell the hospital superintendent that Judge Harrison will pay all bills you approve. I was going to buy you a little car, but if this is your choice — " "A thousand times!" cried Pa- mela joyously, and with a hasty kiss for each of them, she was gone. "If any two people can save that child, it will be my boy and that nurse," boasted old Doctor Locke the next day, w(hen the saline treatment was under way. "They'll make one wonderful team." r AMELA immediate- ly found all the opportunity she had craved for real service. Every two hours for seven weeks the body of little Stephen Walters was subjected to the saline treatment, a spray of salt water at a moderate temperature. The bed coverings were suspended from a center rod, the bed warmed with numerous light globes. The child lay under the soothing influence of a seda- tive, regaining consciousness only occasionally to eat, and then again sank into stupor. The pinch graft, consisting of small disks of flesh composed of seven layers of skin, was a source of much con- jecture and skepticism; this young doctor certainly had faith in his new ideas! Finally, as if in an- swer to Pamela's prayer, Doctor Dick announced one morning in an off-hand manner, as if he were speaking of the weather, "Glad to say, Miss Harrison, that the grafts took. Ninety-six per cent of them are good. The child will live." Ninety-six per cent successful! The news spread, and those who had been so skeptical came hur- rying to see the marvelous cure. The news crept out, making a name for a young surgeon almost over night. "Told you they were a good team," beamed Doctor Locke, as if the results were exactly what he had expected. W HEN he regained normal consciousness, the nervous condition of the mountain child was augmented by fear of new surroundings. He screamed for Granny until Pamela discarded her uniform for a dull gray dress, similar to those to which he was accustomed, and she now spoke only in the mountain dialect. Her soothing tones of "Youns sure has got a misery, son," pro- duced more results than medicine. As fear of shortened ligaments ne- cessitated the stretching of the in- jured leg with weights, Pamela found her ability taxed to the ut- most. She invented tales which would appeal to his knowledge of life. She slept on a cot in his room, taking her meals with him. The Improvement Era for July, 1930 609 For days no substitute could re- lieve her from the exacting strain. Millie and Cassy came to the door, saw his emaciated form and left sobbing. The affections of the child were transferred entirely to the ever-present nurse. Pamela invented a game called "graft daisies," weaving delightful tales about the red fields they left, and the white blossoms they became in their new lodging places on the red, inflamed limbs. A. .FTER ten weeks, Doctor Dick announced again, 'The child will walk. You should be relieved soon now, Miss Harrison. The important work is over." "Say, Dad," Doctor Dick de- clared to his father as they drove homeward that night, "that boy put up some fight." "Some nurse," came the laconic answer. "Wonder it didn't wear her out." "She ought to have a rest, Dad." "Well, son, give it to her." "It takes money to marry these days, Dad." "Money be hanged!" cried Doc- tor Locke impatiently. "From the day I knew she was the lost Har- rison twin, I wanted her for you. She's got good blood and better training. She won't ever use money as her measuring rod. Walking away from an easy job on good pay to this mountain boy, with no wages at all, proved that. Be- sides I've never had a chance to spend my earnings, excepting in educating one boy and forgetting to send bills. If I could find a nice young man, a promising M. D. who has started to make a name for himself, and who was about to be married, I don't know but what I would send him on a honeymoon to Vienna, so he could study a bit more." "But there's that young Reeves, Dad. I know he likes her." "Yeh, maybe so — maybe. But I happen to know she returned the check for a week's wages which his father sent her." YdUNG Doctor Dick grinned at his father, understand- ing^. Then as man to man they gripped each other's hands. "I'll see if I can fill your specifications about that ocean trip," added Doc- tor Dick. That evening Doctor Dick made his rounds, leaving the mountain boy to the last. Then taking a night nurse with him, he went into the small square that had housed Pamela so closely for ten weeks. "Miss Harrison, here is a sub- stitute for the night. Tomorrow your little charge will be moved out to Harrison Home, to gain strength before returning home. Miss Eunice has agreed to keep him as long as necessary." "I ain't never goin' ter leave Curly," volunteered little Steve. "Look, Doctor, how I can pull my leg up." 'Those sentiments are contagi- ous, young fellow. Come up on the roof garden, Miss Harrison, for a breath of fresh iar." r ROM the vantage point of the elevated porch the twinkling lights of the city looked enticing. Pamela breathed deeply and stretched her arms out to the darkness. "I have stayed in too closely," she admitted, "but that poor child needed me so!" "I need you, too, Pamela," whispered Doctor Dick. "I need you for more than ten weeks, or ten months, or ten years. I need you forever!" "Oh!" breathed Pamela quickly. "Tell me," demanded Doctor Dick growing suddenly stern, "why did you run away from Spike Reeves and come up here to cry? "Because he wanted to marry me," admitted Pamela. For the third time the tears were again imminent. "I don't want to mar- ry the son of a mountaineer, nor the son of an over-rich man!" "If you cry every time you re- ceive a proposal, you'd better open the flood gates again," came the prompt rejoinder, "because I'm asking you to marry me, a penni- less young doctor with only a career started. I love you, Pa- mela, because you have stood the fires of privation, poverty, self- education, and have been unspoiled by later affluence. I love you be- cause you work for the love of the work. We made a successful team with that little shaver. Won't you team with me forever?" OOMEHOW Pamela felt no need for flight as she had done with Bud Turner. She felt no need to lecture Doctor Dick as she had chastened young Ben- jamin Harold Reeves. She now stood still, possessed of a great flooding peace and contentment. For moments she made no re- sponse, and the time seemed like eternity to the impatient lover. "We made a good team, Pame- la," he prompted. "I'll try to nurse for you al- ways, Dick," whispered Pamela, "without wages." Doctor Dick stooped and kissed the golden curls that had never known an iron. "How marvelously you came out of the burning of life," he mut- tered. "Dad will send us to Vienna on a honeymoon, Pamela. I shall study and you can poke around and learn more history." Ti HE next morning Pamela moved her small charge from the hospital to Harrison Home. It was pleasant to loiter, pushing the invalid chair along the shady walks. Presently Spike Reeves drove past, saw her and immediately returned. "In spite of my nurse's neglect my feet got well," he smiled. Pamela flushed, but remember- ing her new estate she took cour- age and replied, "Had you been really ill, your nurse would never have left you." "That little lecture did me a world of good, Miss Harrison. And I want to tell you about it. I thought your running away was a stall — girls do that often, you know. I felt sure you would come back. So I didn't ring. I just waited; and waited and waited! When I finally rang, nobody came, so I had to get up and walk. Now I'm going to work. Honest. Dad thinks it's just a big bluff, but I mean busi- ness. I like it, really. I'm be- ginning at the bottom. Oh, and by the way, someday, may I call you other than Miss Harrison?" "Someday, yes." Pamela won- dered how news traveled so rapid- iy-<( "Well, if Portia continues stub- born, it won't ever be sister Pa- mela." "Oh," breathed Pamela with double relief, "do you mean that my sister Portia has refused to marry you?" OPIKE smiled his as- sent. "She has done just that (Continued on page 637)