Part 10

The doctor shook his head. “This will probably be very unpleasant. I’m frankly scared to death every time we attempt to remove a cancer.”

“I know,” Jean replied solemnly as they went into the operating room.

Howard Mills, a middle-aged farmer, had developed cancer in his lung, and Dr. Barsch was dubious as he prepared for the operation. If the malignant cells had been confined to one lung, Mr. Mills could be pulled through. But if the cancer had invaded the surrounding tissues, there was little hope for his life.

“The worst part about this operation,” Dr. Barsch told Jean as they scrubbed in the operating room lavatory, “is that one never knows. The surrounding tissues may look fine and normal, but cancer cells can break away and get into the blood stream and be carried far from the spot of operation.”

“It’s a grisly business,” Dr. Daley affirmed.

“It’s terrible!” Jean cried.

Dr. Barsch sighed and turned his attention to his scrubbing. Dr. Daley said, “If Mr. Mills had come in for regular checkups, this might not have happened. Someday people will learn.”

Eileen Gordon came in briskly and rolled up her sleeves to scrub. Dr. Barsch looked at her with fond exasperation.

“So you’re going to assist me,” he commented dryly.

She looked up at him, puzzled. “Yes, sir,” she answered. “This is too important to let anyone else handle.”

The doctor chuckled a little. “Of course you know that Dr. Benson will be on hand, too. Dr. Daley will stand by while I work, and Dr. Benson will do the probing when we make the incision. That boy has the makings of a fine surgeon,” he added, almost to himself.

Eileen reddened. “I didn’t know, sir. Honest.”

Dr. Barsch turned from the sink. “I won’t have it!” he bellowed. “I simply won’t have it! I get a girl trained and some young nincompoop rushes her off to the altar! How many supervisors do you think I can train in the space of two years?”

Eileen giggled. “Oh, goodness, doctor. Dr. Benson hasn’t even _talked_ about marriage! We’re just good friends.”

Dr. Barsch patted his hands with a sterile towel. “Good friends, indeed! I’ve seen that young idiot mooning about here as if he invented falling in love!”

“Here he comes, Doctor,” Jean warned.

“Let him hear me,” Dr. Barsch said defiantly, but he lowered his voice.

If Dr. Benson had been mooning about, he showed no evidence of it this morning. He glanced at the clock as he began to scrub. Each person in the room was required to scrub for ten minutes. Then he meticulously scoured his hands and arms with a small brush, taking particular care to clean around the base of the nails where dirt can be imbedded. When he had finished, he bathed his hands and arms in an antiseptic solution. He didn’t even glance at Eileen, who was scrubbing at the next basin.

The patient was wheeled in and transferred to the operating table. In spite of the fact that he was under opiates, Mr. Mills moaned. Dr. Henry waited till he was ready for the anesthetic and then fitted a cone over the man’s nose and mouth. Watching the blood pressure carefully, he checked the pulse rate every few seconds. At last the moaning stopped, and Dr. Henry nodded.

Dr. Barsch stood beside the patient’s chest ready to make the incision. Gerald Benson stood on the other side of Mr. Mills. A step behind Dr. Barsch, Dr. Daley stood. Dr. Henry was stationed at the patient’s head. Eileen and Jean were on a level with the patient’s hips. They all wore sterile hospital gowns, masks and gloves. Not a single strand of hair escaped from the sterile white caps on their heads.

Dr. Barsch let out his breath slowly and made his incision. Jean watched carefully as he opened the chest. The incision was more difficult to make than one for an abdominal operation, but Dr. Barsch cut skillfully, and soon the lung was exposed. They all shuddered as they saw the cluster of malignant cells imbedded at the base of the lung. Jean sketched quickly. She was fascinated at the sight of the exposed heart beating slowly and calmly as if it were undisturbed.

Then the cutting out of the cancer began. Dr. Barsch cut under the growth, praying that he would find healthy tissue beneath. But there was more cancerous material below. He sighed and cut down again. Finally, he reached normal tissue. Then he and Dr. Benson began the long, tedious and important task of exploring the entire cavity for more malignant tissue. The clock ticked away minutes as they probed.

“All right,” Dr. Barsch said finally. “Take my side.”

They changed places, and Dr. Benson then went over the parts that Dr. Barsch had checked while the older doctor explored Dr. Benson’s territory.

Eileen handed them instruments without instruction, anticipating their needs. And Jean bent her head over her task as she recorded the entire lung and the surrounding organs. She tried to draw every small capillary which extended out into the lung area to form a structure which looked like a branch of a tiny bush. Dr. Henry watched over the patient’s breathing and pulse rate as carefully as a mother watches over a newborn child.

Finally Dr. Henry spoke. “That’s all,” he said hoarsely. “We can’t take any more chances. His pulse rate is falling.”

As long as the patient was under anesthetic, Dr. Henry was the general. As soon as he spoke the other doctors were quick to follow his instructions.

Dr. Barsch shook his head. “All right,” he said grimly. “But I don’t like it.” Silently he began to sew up the wound. First he drew it together with soluble clamps, and then he stitched the chest together as if it were a piece of cloth.

Jean, clutching her sketch pad and pencil, looked at all their faces. Dr. Barsch’s was grim and determined as he sewed. Dr. Daley’s face was expressionless. Dr. Benson’s was white and drawn. He looked as if he were in pain. Dr. Henry shook his head from side to side as he worked over the man’s respiratory system. Eileen’s face was a white mask. Jean knew that the color had left her own face as well.

She knew, too, that they were all praying to a Higher Power whose Presence is always very much felt in an operating room. No one in the room had ever known Mr. Mills before he came to the clinic. But that didn’t matter. His was a precious life ... a human life. And his body was the scene of a battle of that greatest of all wars since the beginning of the human race. Man was at war with his natural enemy, disease.

18. Just Among Girls

Billy Ellis and Buzzy Hancock raced up the Craig driveway, hooting and howling as they ran.

Tommy appeared on the front porch just as they reached the steps. He waved at them vigorously and called, “Hey, guys! C’mon! Hurry up!”

Billy and Buzzy hurdled the porch rail and collapsed on the porch swing. “Jeepers!” Buzzy panted. “We’ve run just about a mile!” He fanned himself with his open hand. “What’s the big news?” He snorted. “Hurry ’n’ tell us, because we gotta get back to school and pick up the stuff for the game.”

“Jack went to the clinic last night,” Tommy said importantly.

Billy and Buzzy stared at each other in consternation.

“Aw, gee,” Billy said quickly. “He isn’t sick again, is he?”

Tommy paused a moment, enjoying the scene. “Dr. Loring had him put in the hospital because he thinks he’s well again--”

“Zowie!” Buzzy cried. “Really?”

“And they had to make lab tests to be sure,” Tommy continued importantly.

“Well, tell us. When’re they going to know if he’s okay?”

Tommy puffed himself up. “I already know,” he said. “You can ask me if you want to know.”

The two boys jumped on him and wrestled him down. “C’mon!” Buzzy cried. “Stop being an egghead! Tell us!”

Tommy freed himself and sat up. “Take it easy, you guys!”

“Talk, son,” Billy demanded, aiming at him with an imaginary gun.

“Okay. Okay,” Tommy said. “Jack’s coming home this morning. He’s all through his exams. As far as they know, he’s okay.”

Billy and Buzzy both let out an Indian war whoop and threw themselves down on the swing again.

“He’s not supposed to have a lot of excitement,” Tommy cried. “But jeepers, I don’t know how he’s going to avoid it! The things that go on round this house!” He took a big breath. “I guess you guys know both Frank Howard and Ralph are supposed to come this week.”

“Aw, love!” Buzzy protested. “What’s so exciting about that?”

Tommy shrugged. “Search me,” he said. “But the way Kit ’n’ Jean act, you’d think it was the most important thing ever.” He rolled his eyes and added, “It gets pretty exciting when there’s going to be a wedding, though.”

“Who’s gonna get married?” Billy asked. “Kit or Jean?”

Tommy made a face at him. “You dopey guy!” he cried. “Kit has a whole college to go through! How could she get married?”

Buzzy shrugged. “I can’t figure out what women can do. Hey, Tommy, give us the key to the gym locker, will you? We got a ball game, today.”

Tommy tossed him the key. “I’ll meet you guys out on the field,” he said. “I want to wait for Jack.”

Billy and Buzzy vaulted the porch railing and raced down the driveway. Tommy put his hands in his pockets and sat down on the swing. He whistled as he swung himself back and forth.

Pretty soon the Craigs’ car turned in the drive, and Tommy jumped up. Waving, he dashed down the steps and waited till Mrs. Craig had pulled the car up in front of the house.

Jack opened the door and was about to jump out when Mrs. Craig restrained him.

“Just a minute, Jack,” she said. “You mustn’t be so active!”

“Aw, Mom!” Jack protested, but he waited till she came around to help him out. Tommy supported him on the other side.

“I’m well, Tommy!” he cried. “I can get up ’n’ _everything_!”

Mrs. Craig laughed. “Easy, son,” she advised. “Dr. Loring said you were just to get up for a little while each day.”

Jack shrugged. “Aw, gee,” he complained. “Do I have to go back to bed now?”

Mrs. Craig nodded. “I’m afraid so, Jack.”

Jack grimaced. “I’m sick of that old bed!”

After Jack had been settled in his room, Tommy and Mrs. Craig came downstairs together. Tommy turned to his mother, puzzled.

“What’s with him?” he asked. “For months he lies there and doesn’t make a peep. Now all of a sudden he gets dopey and cross.”

Mrs. Craig laughed. “And I don’t blame him. As long as he knew he was sick, he just grinned and took it. Now he knows he’s well again and he’s impatient to be up leading a normal life.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said thoughtfully. “Gee, I sure wish he could see the game!”

Mrs. Craig patted her son’s head. “There will be lots of ballgames.” She sighed heavily. “Aren’t you supposed to be practicing for the game? I have a million things to do today, and I don’t want you underfoot.”

“You don’t practice for a ballgame the day you play it,” Tommy explained. “You just warm up.”

His mother smiled. “Then run along and warm up. Scat!”

Tommy grinned and made a dash for the door. He turned and called, “Keep your fingers crossed for us. Don’t forget!”

Mrs. Craig chuckled. “I will, dear.”

She went upstairs and stopped before Kit’s closed door. Inside she could hear soft voices.

“Girls,” she called, knocking at the door. “Aren’t you ever coming down for breakfast?”

“Come in, Mother,” Kit called back.

Kit and Doris were sitting on Kit’s unmade bed. They still wore their pajamas, and their hair was still uncombed.

“For heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Craig said. “It’s after nine o’clock! Goodness, you’d better hurry!”

Kit yawned and stretched. “It’s just lovely, being able to lounge around like this. We’ve been awake for hours!”

Mrs. Craig sat down on the edge of the bed and hugged her daughters. “You’re a couple of lazy ne’er-do-wells!” she said. “Now, up with you!”

Both girls jumped up and disappeared into the bathroom. Mrs. Craig could hear the shower going full blast. She smiled and started to pick up the bedroom.

Doris came out, fully clothed. “Oh, Mother, don’t,” she cried. “We’ll straighten things!”

Mrs. Craig looked at her daughter and suppressed a laugh. Doris’s face was a study in consternation.

“Ralph’s train comes in at three this afternoon,” Doris said finally.

“Yes, dear. I know,” Mrs. Craig replied.

Doris sat down and gazed out of the window. “This is awful to say when he’s _practically_ my brother, but I sort of want to go to the ballgame.”

Kit came in, rubbing her head with a towel. “Since when are you so interested in baseball? I didn’t know you knew a ball from a bat!”

Doris blushed. “When a girl’s own brother has an important game, I think she ought to see it!”

“Humph!” Kit said. “The girl’s own brother has had a whole series of games this summer. I’ll bet you haven’t seen one yet!”

“That’s enough, Kit,” Mrs. Craig said severely.

Kit smiled. “I’m sorry, Doris,” she said, putting on a pair of blue jeans. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”

Mrs. Craig put an arm around Doris’s shoulder. “Never mind about Ralph coming, dear,” she said. “I’m sure both he and Jean will understand.”

Jean came in while Doris and Kit were eating breakfast. She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a doughnut from the cookie jar.

“I had breakfast at the hospital,” she told her mother, “but I’ll eat a little something just to be sociable.”

Mrs. Craig gazed fondly at her three daughters as they ate a leisurely breakfast. Kit, in blue jeans and cotton plaid shirt, had her bare feet wrapped around the rungs of her chair. Doris was pretty in a soft cotton frock. She wore loafers and no socks, but her bare legs were brown enough to give the illusion of stockings. Jean, on the other hand, was crisp and white in her nurse’s uniform.

Jean set down her coffee cup. “Mother,” she said finally, “is it all right if Ralph and I get married this fall?”

Doris and Kit looked at their sister.

“You sound as if you were planning a picnic,” Kit drawled.

“Well, for goodness sake,” Jean replied, “we’ve got to start planning _sometime_.”

“Of course you do, dear,” Mrs. Craig said.

“We thought an October wedding would be nice,” Jean cried. “October is my favorite month of the year.”

“Where do you want to be married? What church, I mean?” Mrs. Craig asked.

Jean jumped up and hugged her mother. “Oh, Mother,” she cried, “can’t I be married right here at home? I love this house so!”

Mrs. Craig beamed. “Of course, dear. We were hoping that’s what you would want.”

“Me, too,” Kit cried. “I wouldn’t be married _anywhere_ else!”

Mrs. Craig stared at Kit. “Great heavens!” she cried. “You aren’t planning a wedding, too!”

Kit laughed. “Of course not! Not for years and years. By the time I’m ready to be married, I’ll be a plump little middle-aged woman, and Frank will be in a wheel chair.”

Mrs. Craig and the other girls were quiet for a moment. Finally Mrs. Craig said, “Then you’ve made a definite choice.”

Kit hesitated. “I ... I think so, Mother. I’m not sure.”

Doris stood up. “Come on, Jean,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

Kit caught her arm. “No, wait, Doris. There’s no reason you can’t hear this, too.” She studied her plate. “Frank and I talked a little bit about it while I was in Washington. Of course I want to finish school. But I ... I think I’m really in love with Frank Howard, Mother.”

Mrs. Craig sighed and folded her hands. “That’s the important thing, Kit,” she said. “And your father and I think he is a very fine person.”

Doris and Jean squealed.

“That’s wonderful, Kit!” Jean cried.

“Oh, jeepers! It’s thrilling!” Doris echoed.

Kit grimaced. “I’m sorry. Let’s get back to the wedding. Let’s have it in October with lots of bitter-sweet around and the bride and bridesmaids in bright autumn colors....”

“Hey, whose wedding is this?” Jean cried.

Kit scowled at her playfully. “Oh, you’ll want the regular conventional white and pastel wedding.”

“Well, what’s wrong with white and pastel?” Jean wanted to know.

Kit shrugged. “It’s your wedding,” she agreed. “Go ahead. Don’t be imaginative. I don’t care.”

“Oh, Mother!” Jean cried.

Mrs. Craig laughed in exasperation. “You all sound as if you were children again. My goodness, Kit, _whatever_ is wrong with you this morning?”

Kit laughed. “Oh, nothing. I’m just jealous. Everyone’s going to have her beau on hand but me.”

“And I don’t have any beau on hand or anywhere else,” Doris said, tossing her head.

Kit looked at her. “Is that so?” she drawled.

Doris jumped up, her cheeks scarlet. “Mother!” she cried. “Make her stop!”

Mrs. Craig sighed in exasperation. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t too big for me to turn over my knee, Katherine Craig!” she said.

Kit jumped up and put her arm around Doris. “I’m sorry, Doris,” she cried. “I was just teasing you.”

Jean was puzzled. “Whatever is this all about?” she asked. Kit started to explain, but Mrs. Craig broke in firmly.

“Tommy brought a friend home to dinner the other night, Jean,” she said. “A very nice boy from Mercyville. He won a scholarship to Timothy College, too. And he seemed to be very fond of Doris. That’s all.”

Jean whistled. “A friend of Tommy’s? He must be a baby!”

Doris stamped her foot. “He’s almost as old as Kit!” she said. “I think you’re both ... awful!” And she ran from the kitchen.

Mrs. Craig looked at her older daughters sternly. “Now really, girls,” she said, “I’m ashamed of you both!”

Jean and Kit looked at each other, crestfallen.

“Oh, golly,” Jean said. “I keep forgetting Doris is growing up.”

Mrs. Craig looked at them severely. “It would help if you two could remember how mixed up and difficult life seemed to be when you were her age.”

Kit jumped up impulsively. “We’re both dreadful,” she admitted. “But we’ll make it up to her. Why don’t we invite Bert to dinner? After the game?”

“I think it’s up to Doris,” Mrs. Craig replied. “I’ll suggest it, though,” she said, relenting a little.

Jean got up and went into the parlor. Doris was sitting on the piano bench, her hands resting on the piano keys. Jean slipped her arm around her sister’s shoulders.

“Your new friend sounds very nice, Doris,” she said shyly. “I hope I can meet him soon.”

Doris grinned. “He’s really quite wonderful,” she admitted candidly. “And he’s asked me out for our first date ... to a concert ... next week!”

19. Elmhurst vs. Mercyville

The bleachers of the ballpark at Elmhurst High School were rapidly filling. Down on the field, Tommy was throwing a ball to his warm-up catcher, and Billy and Buzzy, together with the rest of the school team, were running, catching balls that were batted out to them, and playing catch.

The Mercyville team was on the other side of the field warming up. Doris and Kit climbed into their bleacher seats just back of first base and watched the practice eagerly.

“I don’t know so much about baseball,” Kit admitted. “We should have brought someone along who knows the game.”

“Yes,” Doris agreed.

At three o’clock, the game started. Mercyville was at bat first, and Kit felt her heart sink as Tommy, the pitcher, faced the first batter. He looked very small and young as he took his windup.

Tommy retired the first two batters, but the third man to face him singled to right field. Buzzy Hancock, who was playing right field, caught the ball on the first bounce and hurled it to the second baseman. The Mercyville runner, who had rounded first base, saw the Elmhurst second baseman catch the ball, and he scooted back to first. Tommy tugged the neck of his shirt and turned to pitch to the fourth batter. He struck the boy out on four pitches.

Kit sighed with relief and settled back. Doris gnawed the end of her finger.

“I wish I hadn’t come,” she confessed to Kit. “This is awful!”

Kit, realizing that Doris’s loyalties were divided, nodded sympathetically.

They watched the game in silence for two innings. Mercyville finally scored two runs, but Tommy was still pitching well.

Finally Kit and Doris heard Jean call to them from the back of the bleachers.

“Hey, there!” she called. “Is there room for two more down there?”

“Oh, golly, there’s Jean with Ralph!” Kit cried. “Come on down!” she called to them. “There’s lots of room.”

Jean and Ralph made their way through the crowd. Doris and Kit squeezed over to make room for them. Ralph grabbed their hands in welcome as he sat down.

“When Ralph heard there was a ballgame,” Jean explained, “he insisted on coming. We haven’t even been home yet!”

“Mercyville is ahead by two runs,” Kit lamented.

“Yes, we heard,” Ralph said.

“I’m glad we have someone who knows the game with us, now,” Doris said. “Kit and I can’t make head or tail out of what is going on.”

As the game progressed, Ralph gave the three girls a thorough lesson in the game of baseball. Mercyville held their lead until the ninth inning, when Elmhurst pushed a run across the plate.

Doris could see Bert Cramer wave to his field captain from the bench. The boy ran over to Bert and held a hurried conference with him. Elmhurst had runners on first and third base with one man out. Mercyville was worried.

The Mercyville team captain, acting upon Bert’s instructions, called for a new pitcher.

“That’s smart baseball,” Ralph said. “We have a right-handed batter next, and so Mercyville is putting in a right-handed pitcher.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Jean asked.

Ralph chuckled. “There is a theory that a right-handed batter has trouble getting a hit off a right-handed pitcher.”

The new Mercyville pitcher struck the first batter out. A groan went up from the bleachers. Most of the spectators were rooting for Elmhurst. And the last batter of all hit an easy grounder to the second baseman. The game was over, and Mercyville had beaten Elmhurst, two to one.

Ralph and the girls made their way down through the crowd to the field, where Tommy was standing beating his hand into his mitt dejectedly.

“You pitched a _whale_ of a game, Tommy,” Ralph said, holding out his hand. “There’s no reason to feel bad. Your whole team looked good.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said sadly. “Boy, I never thought we could hold them. But when we came so close, it sort of hurt to lose.”

Ralph smiled. “I know, old man. Their generalship beat you. Their players aren’t any better, but that boy who manages the team knows a thing or two about the game.”

Tommy grinned wryly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “My pal!”

Bert Cramer trotted across the field. He held out his hand to Tommy. “That was some game!” he cried. “You had us really worried.”

“You were swell today,” Tommy said heartily.

Bert turned around and saw Doris. “Gee, I didn’t know _you_ were here,” he exclaimed.

“This is my sister, Jean, and her fiance, Ralph MacRae,” Doris said.

Bert shook hands with Ralph. “I’m glad to meet you,” he said.

“And Mother said you were to come to dinner,” Doris continued, coloring slightly.

Bert smiled at Doris. “I’m glad your _mother_ wants me to come,” he said softly.

Doris blushed fiery red. “We all want you to come,” she said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Tommy cried.

“We’d better be getting home,” Jean said. “Ralph still has his bags in the car.” She turned and smiled as Ralph took her arm. “Anyone who wants to come with us, come along. There’s lots of room.”

“We have to clean up,” Tommy said. “Bert and I’ll come along later.”

As soon as they had showered and changed into fresh clothes, Tommy and Bert headed for the Craig farmhouse in Bert’s second-hand Ford. They rehashed the day’s game, play by play.

“Jeepers, I sure wish I had a car of my own!” Tommy sighed. “How did you get yours?”

Bert shifted gears and guided the car towards the outskirts of town. “I just saved up,” he explained. “You see, there are lots of jobs they pay you for at Mercyville. The dirtier the job, the more money it pays. I wanted my own car, so I took on a lot of hard jobs. It’s not so much of a car, but it gets me there.”

“I guess it’s pretty neat in Mercyville,” Tommy said. “You guys always seem to have a swell time.”