CHAPTER XXXIII.
MRS. PODGER BECOMES A SIBYL.
There’s a real love of a lie,
Liars find ready-made for lies they make,
As hand for glove, or tongue for sugar-plum.
—Browning.
In nothing have hospitals improved more of late years than in their nursing arrangements. This seems coincident with the High Church movement which has given the sick poor the inestimable boon of being nursed by gentlewomen who have adopted the noble profession of nursing from the love of God and their neighbour—ousting the Gamp and Harris sisterhood to the great advantage of their patients. Previous to the reform of this branch of charity, great scandals were always arising from the ignorance, incompetence, indolence, and drunkenness of the women employed to attend upon the sick. Very often, too, the poor invalids were robbed by these persons; and when their little possessions were not actually filched, it was necessary to bribe their attendants to do their duty, or to omit it, as the case might be. Many blots on the management of St. Bernard’s were traced to this source by the governing body; and when Miss Rackworth, the matron, died, it was determined to thoroughly reorganize the nursing staff on the new system, which had been proved successful in other hospitals.
The first thing which the new matron did after her installation was to make a clearance of the Mrs. Gamp order of nurse. And it was time! The age has outgrown “Sairey” and her set. The old hussies made it their business to “keep in” with the students, as they could help them in many ways, but the patients who did not “tip” them got scant courtesy. The newer order of skilled and educated nurses kept the students within due bounds; and, feeling that their first duty was to the patients, never, if they could prevent it, permitted their interests to be sacrificed to medical education. Podger’s days were numbered when Miss Kemp took up the reins of government.
Podger had of late presumed to send away several minor cases of casualty, with wet bandages of her own application, when she was in her cups; and the matron demanded her dismissal. It was a sad day for poor Podger when she turned her back on the hospital she loved. She had saved a little money, not so much as she ought, but still something for a rainy day. So she took a small house in Chillingworth Street, near Seven Dials, and set up in the “ointment” line. Filling her parlour window with a few gross of willow boxes, such as doctors use for their stuff, she announced, “Mrs. Podger’s Old Nurses’ Salve for Bad Legs, Boils, etc.,” and published some remarkable cases, which soon brought a little grist to her mill. But she had also furnished apartments to let, and these were taken by a middle-aged lady in the “medium” line of business—Mrs. Sabina Allen she was called. She was of more than middle stature, with jet-black hair, good features, and a general cheap tragedy-queen aspect. She converted Podger in a month, and with the assistance of her little stone jar of “Old Tom,” made her see the ghosts of her deceased relatives floating about the house in the “most permiscuous manner.” Podger was no sooner a disciple of advanced spiritualism, than she entered into partnership with her lodger, and inserted advertisements in The Medium Light and Daybreak, announcing that public séances were held at 15 Chillingworth Street, every Sunday evening, at eight o’clock.
The first Sunday, some seventeen persons attended, and the collection was a great success, as it amounted to no less a sum than eight shillings and sixpence. Dreams of wealth began to float through the brains of the sibyls. Podger did not admit all comers; they had to pass a “preliminary” in the passage before they went upstairs. Podger was the examiner. When the bell rang, she answered it. The applicant would request admission to the séance.