“Gay,” supplied Mary Louise. “No, I’m not any relation. Just a friend—of her niece.”
“Oh, I see.... Yes, I know your father, Miss Gay. He is a remarkable man.”
Mary Louise smiled.
“I think so too,” she said.
“As you no doubt expected,” continued the nurse, “an operation is absolutely necessary. The nurses are getting Miss Grant ready now.”
“Has she consented?”
“Yes. She had to. It is certain death if the surgeon doesn’t operate immediately. But before she goes under the anesthetic she wants to see you. So please come with me.”
A little surprised at the request, Mary Louise followed the nurse through the hall of the spotless hospital to the elevator and thence to Miss Grant’s room. The old lady was lying in a white bed, attired in a plain, high-necked nightgown which the hospital provided. Her face was deathly pale, but her black eyes were as bright as ever, and she smiled at Mary Louise as she entered the room.
With her wrinkled hand she beckoned the girl to a chair beside the bed.
“You’re a good girl, Mary Louise,” she said, “and I trust you.”