Cherry Ames 21 Island Nurse (6 page)

NURSE

was as good as any. She slid it under and returned to Sir Ian’s room.

Lloyd arrived a little after eleven o’clock, to fi nd his uncle just fi nishing his milk. He carried a huge bunch of daffodils in one of those white molded-pulp vases provided by fl orists.

“Good morning, Cherry! Good morning, Uncle Ian!” he greeted them cheerily. “You’re looking better, sir.

That milk is doing wonders for your complexion; you are going to have a skin like a wee bonnie bairn’s before long.”

“And the wee strength of one,” his uncle growled weakly.

“I brought you some fl owers,” Lloyd said, stating the obvious.

“Ay, but such a wee bunch,” remarked Sir Ian.

“Of course the color is bright and showy,” he added grudgingly.

Cherry and Lloyd exchanged a knowing glance. They could see that he was pleased.

Lloyd placed the fl owers on a table near the window where Sir Ian could see them.

Cherry said, “I’ll leave the two of you alone awhile,” and started out.

“There’s no need for you to go, Cherry,” Sir Ian told her. “I’m not in a talking mood today. I’d rather listen and I’d enjoy your company. So you and Lloyd sit down and talk,” he ordered.

Cherry laughed. “Usually people tell me to sit down and
stop
talking,” she said.

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“Uncle Ian usually tells me the same thing,” Lloyd remarked, “so this will be a welcome change.” He drew up a couple of chairs and they settled into an easy conversation of small talk. Cherry knew that Lloyd was a good talker. Now she found that he was equally good at telling a story. He related a wonderful folk tale about an old Balfour Islander who became a pirate and returned to haunt the place.

“You see, Cherry,” commented Sir Ian, “Lloyd’s a true Barclay, knows all the old tales, loves the island.

And he is going to make the best mining engineer Balfour ever had. No doubt he’s told you he was graduated with top honors from the Colorado School of Mines.

And he could have been a top man in the mining company where he worked. But he loves Balfour and he’s there to stay.”

Lloyd fl ushed at his uncle’s praise and mumbled,

“Thought
you
were going to listen, not talk.”

“No, Sir Ian,” Cherry said, “I had no idea how important he was.”

“Just like him,” Sir Ian agreed fl atly. “Of course I approve of a certain degree of modesty. But my nephew overdoes it,” went on Sir Ian as though Lloyd were not present. “Furthermore, he’s overfl owing with all kinds of ideas. Wonderful ideas, but highly impractical.” Sir Ian stole a glance at his nephew to see what effect his words had on him. Lloyd pretended not to notice, but he frowned with quick anger.

“It’s my turn now to talk,” Cherry announced abruptly. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was a 50
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AMES,

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nurse for a country doctor and got all mixed up in a campaign for mayor?”

Both men looked at her in surprise.

“You ran for mayor?” asked Sir Ian.

“You would have had my vote,” declared Lloyd stoutly.

“And mine,” echoed Sir Ian with equal conviction.

“You are both deliberately twisting my words,” Cherry said, laughing. “I wasn’t running for mayor, a man was.”

This struck them both as funny. “Oh, a man! Fancy that!” they cried.

She had set them off and they were bent on teasing her. She not only did not mind, but she gave herself a mental pat on the back for getting the conversation back in the right key.

Lloyd’s visit had lasted perhaps half an hour when he got up, saying that he had better run along. Between visits to his uncle, he had been spending time tour-ing the area about Hilton to take a look at the various factories and industries, and some of the engineering projects. Cherry rose casually and followed him to the door.

“Wait out here,” she whispered quickly. “I must see you.” Then, for Sir Ian’s benefi t, she said loudly, “Good-bye for now,” and closed the door.

Sir Ian smiled up at Cherry as she returned and stood at the foot of his bed. “I don’t know when I’ve had a more pleasant time,” he told her. “I have a feeling you’re what the Indians call ‘good medicine.’ I resent
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nurses on general principles. They boss me and I don’t like being bossed.”

Cherry grinned. “I boss you, too, but I try not to let you catch on,” she pointed out.

“Ay, you’re canny. You know just how to handle me to keep me from getting my back up,” he said. “Few people are able to do that. Two only I can think of offhand—you and Meg.” A little sigh escaped him.

“I wish my Meg were here so she could meet you and get to be friends.” His words trailed off. He closed his eyes.

Cherry waited, and when he did not open them, she went quietly into the other room.

Lloyd had been walking up and down slowly, lost in thought. He whirled to face her. Before he could ask any questions, Cherry darted to the chair, plucked out the newspaper, and handed it to him. “Oh, it’s the
Star
,” he said. “It must have been delivered to Uncle Ian after I left him last evening.”

“Read that.” Cherry pointed to the paragraph on the explosion.

Lloyd read it swiftly. “There must be something terribly wrong at Balfour!” Lloyd exclaimed, his voice low but harsh, his face angry. “This man McGuire—who does he think he is? If anyone gives a statement to the press it should be Jock Cameron; he’s the superintendent.”

“Could Mr. Cameron have been away when it happened?” suggested Cherry. “Perhaps he was sick.”

“Oh, no, there’s more to it than that,” declared Lloyd.

“Why, that red-faced bully! If that McGuire thinks he’s 52
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AMES,

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going to usurp Cameron’s place . . .” he broke off. “I’m going to fi nd out what’s going on up there. I’m going to Balfour!” He strode to the door. “Thanks, Cherry.

You’re strictly wonderful. Please give me a rain check on that dinner Friday.”

With that, he was out in the hall. Cherry ran and called after him, “Where are you going?”

“Going to see Dr. Joe,” Lloyd called back. ‘Tell him what I’m going to do.”

By the time Dr. Joe came that afternoon to visit Sir Ian, Lloyd Barclay had packed and was well on his way to Balfour Island. He had called the nearest airfi eld and chartered a plane.

“No one could stop him. He was determined to go,” Dr. Joe told Cherry. “And even if I could have stopped him, I don’t know whether I would have been doing right. This is Lloyd’s chance to show his uncle that he is not a fool when it comes to managing the affairs of the mines. And since his uncle is in no condition to manage anything right now, let the boy see what he can do. After all, he inherited his father’s shares in the Balfour Mines and he has a right to look after his interests, to put it bluntly.”

“His uncle doesn’t think Lloyd’s a fool,” Cherry said.

“He’s crazy about his nephew, I can see that.”

“I know. I know,” agreed Dr. Joe. “Of course he is.

But Sir Ian has no confi dence in Lloyd’s business ability. He thinks the boy is a remarkable engineer, but lacks administrative ability. He forgets that he’s never given Lloyd a chance.”

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53

“How are we going to break the news to Sir Ian?” Cherry asked, sighing deeply.

Dr. Joe gave her what he might have thought was a sly glance, but it was about as sly as a small brown bear’s.

“Sir Ian is going to have a very happy surprise. Oh, I tell you, that boy, Lloyd Barclay, got the bit in his teeth this morning and there was no holding him. He called Meg Barclay in London. And she’ll be here as fast as jet planes and other modern conveyances of travel can fetch her.”

To Cherry the time until Sir Ian’s daughter arrived on Wednesday seemed to be endless. Luckily, Sir Ian assumed that his nephew was off taking a look around the country, which he had said he might do. So Cherry simply said nothing.

Sir Ian’s condition showed some improvement, but he seemed depressed and moody. Cherry could rally him, but he was withdrawn and taciturn with Miss Page and Mrs. Hendrickson.

Then Wednesday came at last. And with it lovely Meg Barclay. She did not announce her arrival. She simply appeared in the doorway like a princess out of a fairy tale.

Sir Ian saw her and his whole face lighted up. She ran over to him and threw her arms about him.

“Oh, Da!” she cried, using the Scottish word for Dad.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come sooner and taken you home.”

“There, there.” Sir Ian patted her dark head. “Don’t take on now. I wanted you to have a good time.” 54
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AMES,

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Meg lifted her head and brushed away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. She was all sunshine again.

“But, Da, after the fi rst two weeks, I was so homesick I thought I couldn’t bear it,” she said.

Such was Cherry’s fi rst meeting with Meg. Father and daughter fi nally took notice of Cherry, who had been too startled to move. Sir Ian introduced the two:

“The grandest nurse and the grandest daughter a man ever had.”

Cherry and Meg regarded each other for a long moment. Each girl liked what she saw. And Sir Ian lay there and admired the pair: Meg with wavy brown hair; violet eyes, honest and sparkling with humor; fi ne regular features, friendly mouth, and as slim as a young willow. Cherry with glossy dark curls; dark, expressive eyes; red cheeks, and slender fi gure. What a beautiful picture they made! Renoir would have loved to paint them.

The two girls broke into smiles and shook hands warmly.

It was the beginning of a friendship that Cherry and Meg were to treasure. And it was the day that drew Cherry into the web of mystery of Balfour Island. For Meg had come determined to take her father home as soon as possible.

“He’ll never get well,” Meg told Dr. Joe and Cherry.

“I know Da. He will worry a little more today, a little less tomorrow perhaps, but he’ll never be at ease until he returns to the island. Something is wrong, though he won’t tell me what it is. And he must see to it.”
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Because of Sir Ian’s pattern of brief improvement, followed by a setback, Dr. Joe was inclined to agree.

But he had to be sure Sir Ian had consistent and proper nursing care. Dr. Mackenzie had told him there were two registered nurses on the island, neither of whom could be spared from the island’s hospital.

Both Sir Ian and Meg pleaded every day with Cherry to return with them. Sir Ian became stubborn and insisted he would not tolerate another nurse.

It was a big decision for Cherry to make.

“You’d not do wrong in going,” Dr. Joe said, and her family agreed. “I think,” Dr. Joe had added, “it will be an interesting experience for you in many ways. I’ve made inquiries about young Dr. Douglas Mackenzie and all the reports are good. His reputation as a physician is excellent.”

The moment Cherry said “Yes,” Meg got on the long-distance telephone and began making arrangements with the servants at Barclay House for getting everything in order. Dr. Joe helped make arrangements with Hilton Hospital for Cherry’s leave of absence.

Cherry herself hurried around when off duty, buying all the things she “absolutely needed,” and doing all the other things that had to be done when anyone plans to be away for several months.

“I surely hope all of this is not premature,” her mother said to Cherry. “Dr. Joe hasn’t said Sir Ian is well enough to travel.”

“Oh, but Sir Ian has been improving steadily since Meg declared she was going to take him home and 56
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NURSE

there’s no hitch any longer about nursing care,” Cherry told her. “Do you know, Sir Ian never even batted an eyelash when Meg told him Lloyd had already gone to the island? She was worried about breaking the news to him, as Lloyd had asked her to do. But she need not have worried at all. Sir Ian even told Meg to wire him to meet us as soon as we know when we will arrive.”

“Well, as Dr. Joe told us the other evening when he came over,” Mrs. Ames said, “he’s known of patients who got over their ulcers on the fi rst day of vacation.

Sir Ian probably feels the same sort of relief.”

c h a p t e r v i

Balfour Island

it was an interesting journey to balfour ISLAND.

From Hilton, Cherry, Sir Ian, and Meg went by train to Chicago, and from there by plane to St. John’s, Newfoundland, in Canada. From there, they took the ferryboat
Sandy Fergus
that ran between St. John’s and the island.

The journey was somewhat complicated, because Sir Ian was a sick man and special arrangements had to be made to ensure his comfort and to avoid fatigue.

Modern conveniences of travel made this a relatively easy matter.

But Sir Ian’s eagerness to get home made him impa-tient and cross with those very precautions that were taken for his health and comfort. During the trip, it was all Cherry could do (aided by Meg) to keep him reasonably calm and see that he followed Dr. Joe’s orders as cheerfully as possible.

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AMES,

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The girls succeeded better perhaps than they realized, for when the plane landed at St. John’s, Newfoundland, just ahead of a fog, Sir Ian was actually complacent about taking the slower, ancient ferryboat instead of the much faster helicopter to the island.

“The helicopter will never make it,” Meg had said at fi rst signs of the fog.

“Ay,” Sir Ian had agreed. “But you can depend on John Rab getting us there, which is more than I can say for the fal-de-lal whirlybirds.”

John Rab was the captain and owner of the
Sandy
Fergus
ferryboat, and, as Cherry was to discover, let neither fog, rain, wind, snowstorm, nor ice in Balmaghie Bay keep him from his two daily trips between St. John’s and Balfour.

The helicopter that carried mail and passengers once a day, or on special fl ights, was faster. But it was far less reliable. It supplied service only during fair weather.