CHAPTER XIII

VIRGINIA HELPS AGAIN

When Obadiah received the formal notice from the hospital authorities of the acceptance of his gift, being unversed in the ways of philanthropists, he sent for Hezekiah and handed him the letter. "I want nothing to do with this matter," he snapped.

The lawyer bowed with great complacency.

"You may be interested to know, as you didn't take the trouble to find out," the mill owner sneered, "that this fellow, Joseph Tolliver Curtis, is employed by the State Board of Health. He spent his time prior to the accident riding up and down the river taking samples of the water to make a case against me."

"Ahem," coughed the lawyer.

"If that fellow were getting a cent out of the agreement," Obadiah threatened, "I would break it."

"No, you wouldn't," replied the lawyer calmly. "I drew it and it's enforceable. If necessary I would go into court myself to make you keep it."

Obadiah glowered, but his eyes fell before those of his attorney.

"Well," he growled finally, "we won't quarrel over it. You handle the matter." A look of distress came into his face. "I'll sign the checks but I don't want to talk about it."

So, even though her father refused to discuss the subject Virginia took up the matter of furnishing the room with great enthusiasm. She sought advice from many persons but particularly from Joe Curtis, who was deemed, through sad experience, capable of expressing the desires of injured motorcyclists, and Miss Knight, who by long service had learned those things which were not good for them.

After prolonged discussion, Virginia and Joe decided that the room should be papered in an old fashioned design with a background of egg-sh.e.l.l blue. The windows were to be curtained with a fine net having a filet edge, and the furniture was to be of ma.s.sive mahogany.

Pictures portraying sporting scenes believed suitable by Joe and of gentle landscapes considered appropriate by the girl were to adorn the walls in equal number. A harmonizing smoking set was added, and the floor was to be strewn with Oriental rugs. Thus furnished, it was confidently argued, the room would be restful and agreeable to the most discriminating of motorcyclists.

When this plan was presented with pride to Miss Knight, she addressed the pair in a sarcastic manner, "Did you by chance have in mind the furnishing of a bridal suite? Haven't you forgotten a breakfast room and a pipe organ?"

Reduced to a fitting condition of humbleness they sat at her feet, so to speak, as she discoursed. "The room set aside is bright and cheery.

Its walls, windows and floor need no treatment. Put in a double enameled bedstead--a bra.s.s one if you like. Have an enameled dresser and a plain rocker and chairs of similar type. You may have a plain wardrobe and an enameled medicine table, too. That's all." She smiled at them. "I have conceded a lot, too."

"You have beautiful taste, Miss Knight. Don't you think so, Joe?"

remarked Virginia with great solemnity.

The motorcyclist nodded a vigorous agreement.

Thus encouraged the nurse became didactic. "The furnishing of a room for the sick," she lectured, "is not a matter of taste. It is a question of cleanliness. Give me a clean place with plenty of fresh air and sunshine--nothing else counts." Before such simplicity the pretentious plans faded, and in the end the wisdom of the nurse prevailed.

When Virginia left the ward that day it had grown extremely warm.

"Hotter than fiddlers in Tophet," Miss Knight called it.

"Where are those poor babies?" Virginia asked, as from a distant part of the building came the petulant sound of infants protesting in the only way they could against the high temperature.

"They are in the Free Dispensary,--the cases which are brought in from the outside. They would wring your heart," the nurse answered.

Distress showed in Virginia's face. "I am going there and see if I can help," she cried, and with a parting smile at Miss Knight she hurried to the Dispensary.

Doctor Jackson nodded to her as she entered. "Every degree that the temperature rises means more sick babies," he worried.

The peevish, fretful cries of the infants and the troubled looks of the worn mothers filled the girl with pity. "How dreadful, Doctor. The poor darlings. I wish I could help them," she said.

The medical man glanced at her with new interest. "Miss Dale, didn't you give that concert at the Lucinda Home?" he asked.

When she answered him in the affirmative he came over to her. His duck suit was rumpled and his collar wilted. His hair was mussed where he had mopped it back. In his hand was a clinical thermometer and an odor of drugs surrounded him. "Miss Dale," he urged, "why don't you get up a picnic and take these mothers and babies into the country for a few hours? You entertained the old ladies but you would save lives if you could arrange to get some of these babies into a cool place for awhile." He became apologetic. "I don't mean to be insistent but I am interested in my work and if I can keep any of them from dying in this heat spell, I want to do it. You understand me, don't you?"

"Indeed I do, Doctor Jackson. I will be only too glad to get up a picnic." A note of anxiety crept into her voice. "There isn't much time to prepare. If it is to do good, we must have it at once."

"Tomorrow, by all means," urged the physician. "Let's go to it."

His enthusiasm filled her with energy. "It will be dandy," she cried, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "It will be difficult to arrange for, but we can do it."

The young medical man gave this pretty girl, flushed with interest and confidence, a look of frank admiration. "That's the ticket," he shouted, tossing professional dignity to the winds for the moment.

"You can make things hum. Hop to it, kiddo." Then more seriously, "Let me know late this afternoon the arrangements you have made. Call me by phone. I'll get word to the mothers if I have to carry it myself this evening."

Virginia's head was awhirl with vague plans when she left the hospital.

On the way she espied Mrs. Henderson hurrying down the street in utter disregard of the fiery heat.

"Get in, Hennie," called Virginia, when Ike stopped the car. "I must talk to you and I want to make you as comfortable as I can."

"Don't mind me, child," protested the widow. "I am a hardened sinner whom it behooves to become accustomed to heat."

In a few words the girl explained the plan for the picnic.

"It is a splendid thing to do," Mrs. Henderson agreed. "Of course I'll be glad to help. Good gracious, sick babies all around us and at our church we are dawdling over a new bell rope and a lock for the front door."

"It is such a relief to know that you are going to help," exclaimed Virginia; "but away down in my heart I knew that you would."

"There, there, dearie, I'm an old crank who is always minding other people's business--and getting kicked for it," she ended petulantly.

"Hereafter," she affirmed emphatically, "I am going to attend to my own affairs." A great energy filled her and she turned to Virginia, her own words forgotten. "What can I do? If you will let Serena help me, I will attend to the refreshments."

"Hennie, you are a dear--that much is settled." Virginia sighed with relief. "Now where can we have the picnic? Parks which have bands and dancing won't do at all."

"You are right. These mothers and babies need rest and quiet. A grove by the river would be ideal."

"Oh, surely, that is where we must go." The girl waxed enthusiastic.

"The babies can roll upon the gra.s.s and play together."

"Fiddlesticks," objected Mrs. Henderson. "If you put babies on the ground they will eat bugs, and if you allow them to roll they will go into the river."

"But they must be entertained."

"Proper entertainment for babies," observed the childless widow sagely, "is eating and sleeping with crying to while away leisure moments."

She leaned towards Ike. "Young man, do you know of a shady place along the river where we can have a picnic?"

"Yas'm," responded the ever courteous chauffeur. "Elgin's Grove is er nice place fo' er picnic or a barbecue. Heaps o' shade an' de aiah is mighty cool."

"Who goes there?"

"Ah ain' heard about n.o.body gwine dyah lately, Ma'm."