It was pleasant to be back in an American dining-car … And, all things considered, it would be better to invite Mrs. Ashford to take an afternoon off and come down town … Our diners were so much nicer than the European ones where the passengers were organized into platoons and given so many minutes to devour each course … What a pity she had felt she had to sell her Brightwood stock. Would it make any difference in her relations with Mrs. Ashford?
It was bitterly cold that night as the long train clanked and creaked and screamed along the east bank of the Hudson, and, crossing the bridge at Albany, thrust its black muzzle into the face of a blinding blizzard; but the scurrying landscape, blurry with snow, did not seem so bleakly inhospitable as she had feared. In her berth, she raised on one elbow, drew aside the blind, and watched the sleet-trimmed trees and fences skimming by, half glad she was returning. She snuggled down with her furs against her cheek, and drifted off into an extended debate with somebody, whether she wasn’t under a sort of obligation to call at Brightwood, if only for a moment.
Joyce was at the gates, dancing gleefully, arms outstretched, as she sighted her beloved emerging from the concourse tunnel, pursued by two porters staggering under bags plastered with foreign labels. There were some murmured tendernesses, and a moment later they were careening around the circle, tire-chains rattling merrily. Bubbling with excitement, Joyce tried to tell half a dozen stories at once.
“First thing I did, darling, when I arrived—week ago—I went out to see Nancy Ashford. Isn’t she the dearest thing? But you hardly knew her. Well—she’s regular! … I went out to Brightwood and told Nancy all about it; how I couldn’t stick it another minute and had had to leave him; and could I possibly find anything to do, just to keep from going crazy … And, what do you think? They had just lost a file-clerk, and would I like to do that for a week or two, to find out how I would react to the discipline of office hours; and, meanwhile, we could all be thinking and inquiring for something permanent … But, I don’t mind if nothing turns up for a while. Really—it isn’t dull work, at all; and I quite like it!”
“Oh, you’ve begun it already?”
“Umm-humm! … That same afternoon! … Just took off my hat and went to it. Honestly—it’s a lark. Of course, I knew several of the people—Doctor Pyle and Doctor Carter, and the redheaded Watson boy, who’s grown a moustache and glasses since I saw him last; and fully a dozen of the older nurses … And—my dear—you should see the Merrick person! … Don’t frown that way! … I know you never liked him.”
“You mean I never knew him.”
“Of course! That was the whole trouble! You never met him but once, on that awful night! Ugh! … that night!”
Helen patted her hand.
“Forget it! We’ll never mention it again!”
Joyce brightened and resumed her monologue.
“Well, as I was saying, all you ever knew about him was that he had a sentimental notion he must study surgery and try to take dear dad’s place … And you thought it a piece of impudence, didn’t you? … Listen! He’s going to come near doing it! Do you know what Bobby Merrick’s up and done? He’s invented a thing—”
The taxi scraped against the kerb, and the doorman was reaching for the baggage.
“Look! Isn’t this foxy?” prattled Joyce, as they entered the lobby. “All done over! … Let’s go straight through to luncheon. I’m starving! … There’s a place—by the window … Umm! Duck! That’s Christmassy!”
“What were you saying about your work at the hospital, when I interrupted you?” asked Helen, as the waiter moved away, scribbling on his card.
“What was I saying? … Oh, yes—about Bobby! He’s made an electrical thing that’s bringing head surgeons here from all over. I don’t know exactly what it is—some sort of a charged knife … awfully complicated … They’re doing operations with it at Brightwood that have never been done anywhere before … Something that prevents haemorrhages, or something. Nancy Ashford told me about it; but she couldn’t explain it very well. I saw it—a big, tall, wooden case full of the most intricate machinery you ever saw …”
“Glass things?”
“Umm-humm! … How did you know?”
“Well—they always do have a lot of—of things made of glass whenever they use electricity, don’t they?”
“Naturally … Have some of that wonderful celery, darling … Only celery in the world, you know … And handsome? My word! Honestly—I wouldn’t have known him! And he always was good-looking! … But the change in him is simply marvellous! I’m half afraid of him … Oh—very professional! Crisp! No nonsense—no—sir-ee! And the nurses are all wild and crazy about him—and he doesn’t know they’re existing … He’s doing some of their most important cases out there, now … Calls me ‘Mrs. Masterson!’ Isn’t that idiotic! Nancy says it’s because I’m employed there … Funny—don’t you think?”
Helen thought it was funny; thought the whole speech funny.
“Really—” Joyce leaned forward and dropped her voice. “If I had the teeniest right to, I’d lose my heart—utterly! You know I always was a little bit soft about him!”
“I hope you’ll not be indiscreet, Joyce.”
“Oh, I’ll take pains not to let him know I think he’s nice,” she reassured. “But—I don’t want you feeling unkindly toward him. You really can’t avoid meeting him, you know.”
“Why not?”
“Well—you’ll be out at Brightwood, more or less, now I’m there …”
“I don’t see how your work at Brightwood would require my presence.”
“But—you’re going out, aren’t you? … Honestly, darling, you’ll just have to be pleasant toward him—for my sake!”
“For your sake?”
Helen experienced a momentary wave of disappointment … In her long absence from Joyce, she had idealized her somewhat; but—she was the same Joyce, whom no blunders could chasten; the same unchanged
