Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

had yourself established. And now for the sake of some gurrl ye're going to throw aside the biggest opportunity likely to come to a man of your years. Laddie, I'm disappointed in ye!" Jerry Malone leaned forward eagerly. "No. Don't say that," he protested. "Let me tell you first. Let me tell you what happened. Let me tell you why I've got to go back and fight it out with Belmore." "It'll have to be good," warned Abercrombie. "It is!" Jerry declared. "Give me just a minute to decide where to start. There's been so much packed into these twelve months. . . ." THE story really started on the dining car. There was only one seat left when Jerry went in for luncheon. He gave the girl across the table no more than a polite glance when he asked, "May I sit opposite you?" "Certainly, doctor," she had replied astonishingly, in a clear, laughing voice. Then he had taken a closer look at the friendly blue eyes set in startling black lashes, hair the color of honey, a lovely mouth, grave and carefully prim at the moment, but ready to break into a curved smile. "Don't tell me I've left a stethoscope dangling around somewhere! How can you tell I'm a doctor?" "That's easy. I've been nursing at the Medical Foundation, and, of course, all of the nurses know the brilliant Dr. Malone. I'm needed at home right now, so I'm going back to a little town you've probably never heard of . . . Belmore." "Indeed I have heard of it. I'm taking over Dr. Bamett's practice there." At the unconcealed surprise in her face, Jerry found himself wondering for just a minute exactly why he was doing this thing that surprised him no less than it had all his friends. He had been happy at of*ll Molone *ero of the radio serial 18 the Medical Foundation for five years and his work was recognized and valued. But, when he had heard that old Doctor Barnett was retiring, Jerry had acted on impulse, drawn his savings from the bank, bought the old doctor's small practice in Belmore, and found himself on the train bound for a completely strange little village almost before he knew what had happened. All he knew was that he wanted general practice in a small community . . . wanted it badly enough tp venture all of his years of training on the chance that he was doing the right thing. Looking back and thinking of all that meeting with Ann Richards on the train had meant, Jerry could not believe that he had said goodbye so casually to her when they left the train at Belmore, had let her go without a second thought. She came back into his mind for a fleeting moment when he saw the grim set of Nurse Kate's mouth, her steely eyes that refused to meet his, heard her fiat, coarse voice. Nurse Kate had grown grey in Dr. Barnett's service, but time evidently had not had a softening effect, nor had the sight of suffering. "Of course I'll keep her on," young Dr. Malone had promised the older man. "I'll need someone who knows your patients, knows the town. Delighted to have her." "Good," said Dr. Barnett. "She's a none too happy woman, difficult at times, especially now because she's upset at the thought of a change." But it was Dr. Malone who was upset when he realized just what a problem Nurse Kate was apt to be. The first patient to arrive was kindly Mr. Mead. His case was easy to diagnose. He needed an operation for gallstones before too many weeks passed. Jerry told him so. Then it was that Nurse Kate committed the unpardonable sin. "No such a thing!" she argued. "Dr. Barnett never had to operate on you, Mr. Mead. If you'll take my advice, you'll get an opinion from an older man over at the Capital. He . . ." with a defiant jerk of the head toward Jerry, "is mighty young, and I've noticed young men are a deal too handy with the knife." The second patient was sweet, gentle little Mrs. Penny who needed injections for anaemia. Dr. Malone prescribed them. "I knew a sick woman who had injections and she died!" Nurse Kate informed Mrs. Penny darkly Jerry was shocked. It was an unheard of breach of professional etiquette for a nurse to question a doctor's decision in the presence of a patient; or anywhere else for that matter. And he was as much bewildered by the passionate dislike with which Nurse Kate regarded him as by her words. His careful reprimand brought on an astonishing storm of temper, brought Nurse Kate's furious resignation and her threat to run him out of town. Jerry shrugged his shoulders, half in amusement, half in irritation at the ugly scene. But he did not take Nurse Kate seriously as a powerful enemy until several days later when the members of the influential Ladies Allegiance League began to transfer their patronage to the doctor in the next town. He had counted on that group to keep him going until he had established his own practice. The only really bright spot in the first week had been his second meeting with Ann Richards. He had been called to the Murrays, where he found Ann already there, preparing for his arrival. Before tne difficult birth of the Murray heir had been completed, he reabwa that Ann was a superb surgical nurse. Before he had bade her good night at her door, he had hirea himself a new assistant. . Before the week was out, he ' a complete new household, r ny", as his anaemic patient pr ferred to be called, was delighted to abandon her far too strenuous duties as a cleaning woman an move into the new doctor s kite Will Prout, the garrulous stau RAWo and m*™** Mff*>" ■ Bent on tarring and feathering Jerry and running him out of town, the mob was in an angry mood — but Ted Hudson was angrier still. agent who had been courting her for thirty years liked the change, too, and enlarged his devotion to include the doctor as well as the doctor's cook and warm kitchen. And twelve-year-old Bun Dawson took it for granted that he was as indispensable to the doctor as the doctor was to him. The by-products of most of Bun's social contacts were bruises, sprains, cuts, contusions and minor breaks. Since his father worked long hours and his stepmother resented the bother of bandaging the boy, Bun found it practical to work off his considerable gauze and iodine bill by running errands. THE ready and warm friendship of this little group blinded the young doctor to the wildfire gossip, the suspicion and fear that was springing up as a result of Nurse Kate's harangues against him. Not until he heard her boast, jeeringly, that she had persuaded his first patient, Mr. Mead, not to have the essential operation for gall stones, not until he heard that she was circulating a. -petition to have him removed from the post of Health Officer did he begin to realize how very serious her opposition to him might become. But there was more than just the venom of an embittered old maid behind the petition to remove him from office. John Bogert, richest man in town, was behind it, too. After repeated calls had taken him to the miserable fringe of slum dwellings near Bogert's mattress factory, Dr. Malone investigated a refuse dump that was a pest center of contagion, and, by his authority as Health Officer, ordered Bogert to remove it. Bogert was cynical in his cool offer of a bribe, angry at Jerry's refusal of it. The removal of the dump was an expensive business, costing far more than the good health of a few worthless workmen, in the opinion of Bogert. He meant to make Dr. Malone pay for the whole matter dearly. He meant to get rid of him as quickly as possible, because the mattress factory was not his only interest in Belmore, not the only place where an idealistic young man who believed in such stupid things as civic welfare, could make trouble. Yes, Dr. Malone would have to go, and the sooner the better. Fewer and fewer came the calls for the doctor. Patients were far between, and those who did come were the worried workmen from across the tracks who explained, in embarrassment and in desperate ap_neal, "1 can't pay right now, Doc, but please help me." "Maybe I'm not the right man for private practice," Jerry mused out loud to Ann during one of the rare moments when he allowed depression to grip him. "Maybe the whole thing was a mistake." "Of course it isn't a mistake," Ann protested. "Just wait until word gets around what a wonderful surgeon you are. Small towns are funny. But as soon as people you've helped spread the word about how good you are, everyone will be back. And after all, you're not fighting entirely alone. Penny adores you. Will Prout will fight anyone who says a word against you. Bun worships you. And you have a pretty fair nurse who thinks well of you, too." "You're not only a wonderful nurse," responded Jerry, "you're also a wonderful girl, Ann. I think you're . . ." Jerry caught himself. Ann was beautiful. Ann was delightful. Ann was intelligent and sweet. But he must not let himself think of the way her blue eyes lighted when she looked up at him, must riot think of how soft her hair would be to touch. His work came first. Not until he had really insured his future could he begin to think of sharing it. "And ... as you say," he finished lamely. "I'm not alone." Ann's shining faith cheered him tot a few hours, but that same night he felt really beaten when a frightened call took him to the Mead farm. He found Mr. Mead writhing with intolerable pain. An immediate operation was necessary. There were not even minutes to waste. Through (Continued on page 77) 19