“That will come later,” Brent told her.
The four of them had elected to wait until the operation was over. They had not seen Phyllis again. Now it was long past their dinner time and they were waiting for Doctor Elton to tell them of the success or failure of his work.
Gale argued with herself that there could be no thought of failure. Doctor Elton was skillful, the most marvelous surgeon of his kind in the world. But a little demon of pessimism reminded her that any operation could fail—no matter how skillful the physician. But not to Phyl! Not to Phyl! she repeated over and over. Phyllis certainly deserved a reward for all her bravery and courage.
The minutes dragged away into hours. The grayness of the world outside was seeping into the room. A nurse came in and quietly, efficiently lighted the lamps, straightened a group of magazines, and disappeared again.
“If somebody doesn’t come to us soon,” Valerie threatened, “I’m going hunting for Doctor Elton. Do you suppose he could have forgotten about us?”
Gale shook her head and turned again to the window. She did not relish the ride home to the college in the rain. They had been forced to bring Phyllis to Weston because it was the nearest town with a modern, sufficiently equipped hospital for Doctor Elton. Doctor Norcot was here, so Phyllis’ father said. The girls had not seen her as yet, but Gale wished she would bring them some kind of news now.
“We better go out and get our dinner,” Brent said finally. “We may have to wait quite a while yet.”
“I couldn’t eat anything,” David said decisively, flinging himself into a chair, only to get up and walk restlessly about again.
“Nor I,” Gale said.
She wondered if Doctor Elton proposed to tell Phyllis who he was tonight. Hardly, she decided later; this was scarcely an opportune moment. It would be a bit of a shock to find after all this time that Phyllis had a father, and that it should be Doctor Elton would be more stupendous still.