But nine-thirty! That meant that Lewis must get along. The rest of this mail must be handed over to—Petra.
“Let me love again! Give me the love to love You with. Not for my sake. For Eric Larsen’s sake. He needs me now, this minute, worthless as I am. Give me this love so that I may go on and do this one morning’s work that You have given me. Make your gifts whole—the work and the love to do it with.—For this suffering Eric Larsen’s sake, not mine, who am unworthy, Lord.”
Lewis was looking around for his hat, as he prayed. There it was, knocked onto the floor somehow. The office certainly needed Miss Frazier. He collected the hat and snatched up the remaining bunch of letters. And as he performed these simple, objective acts, the shackles fell. There was no vision, no sensible response from on High. Nothing like that. Nothing in the world—but hatred and anger dissolving from his consciousness with the rapidity of light. “Deo Gratias” was all Lewis breathed in recognition of the Spirit’s blowing, and in another instant he was out in the reception office, by Petra’s desk.
Petra was talking to McCloud over the telephone. Lewis recognized the vibrations of McCloud’s voice, although he caught nothing of the words. Petra, glancing up at her employer, said quickly, interrupting the voice, “The doctor’s here, Neil. Waiting to speak to me. Call me up when I get back from lunching with Dick. Two this afternoon. Good-by,” and put the instrument down sharply.
“I’m in a tearing hurry, Petra,” Lewis said. “You’ll have to go over these letters. Clip all that look personal together. Whether they’re marked personal or not. Make notes about the rest on the envelopes. If anything urgent comes up, I’ll be at the hospital till noon, anyway, but don’t call me for anything there till after eleven. No matter how urgent. I’m watching an operation. I’ll be back here by two, and if it’s possible, I’ll let you go home then. There’s aspirin in the right top drawer of my desk. Better take two. If that Philadelphia man shows up or calls, tell him I’ll see him at three, with the boy, here. But aside from that, keep the afternoon clear. I don’t like your looking so tired. Think you can stick it until two?”
“Oh, yes! I’m perfectly all right. The aspirin will help a lot. Everything will be all right here. Is it Eric Larsen—the operation?”
Petra had a special interest in Eric Larsen, the big shambling Swede, with his shifty eyes and oddly contrasting child-like trust in the goodness and power of Doctor Pryne. But she had been almost afraid of him when he first started coming. She had hidden her nervousness, however, and even Janet had not guessed what an ordeal those first few visits had been. Soon fear had turned to pity. Then had come the afternoon when Eric Larsen had appeared before her desk, roaring drunk and dangerously ugly, just after Doctor Pryne had gone for the day. Petra, though in a very agony of terror, had stood by Janet when she insisted they must get him quietly back to his lodging house and up to his bedroom safe. Janet said that otherwise he would spend the night in jail and that wouldn’t help what Doctor Pryne was doing for him,—now would it! The next day Doctor Pryne had been appalled by their temerity, or tried to seem so; but the truth was, and they both knew it, that he was, in his heart, delighted.—So now, naturally, Petra had a special interest, if this was the day they were operating on Eric Larsen.
“Yes, it’s Larsen,” Lewis replied. “Nine-thirty. If he pulls through, we’ll write all about him to his mother in Upsala. She may send for him to come home. Almost any mother would now, in spite of everything.”
Petra tingled with gratification. Why, this was the way Doctor Pryne talked with Janet herself, confiding plans and hopes to her concerning his cases! To cover up her sudden delight she said again, “Everything will be all right here. Don’t give anything a thought, Doctor Pryne.”—How ready she was to forget his unreasonableness of the early morning, now that he was treating her not only with the respect he gave Janet, but almost with the same intimacy of confidence! Perhaps he hadn’t been really angry with her, after all, nor intended to humiliate and wound her. Perhaps it was only because she had been so terribly tired Petra had felt, suddenly, in the hall at Green Doors early this morning, that Doctor Pryne disliked and mistrusted her. It must have been just her stupid mistake. Even without his being so sweet now, she would have come to realize her stupid mistake, given a little time. For Doctor Pryne would never use the tone she thought he had used to her, even if he had wanted to; he was too innately kind. And his silence all the long drive in had had nothing to do with her, as she in her mean selfish egoism had thought it had! He had been worrying about Eric Larsen. About the operation. Naturally, he wouldn’t want to talk!—Now, if only Petra weren’t just a little frightened about Teresa, she would be happy indeed! For Doctor Pryne had said, “If he pulls through, we’ll write all about him to his mother in Upsala. She may send for him to come home. Almost any mother would now, in spite of everything.” We will write. We. Not I! She might have been Janet!
The happiness of feeling herself not only reinstated but lifted even higher than ordinary in Doctor Pryne’s good will did more for Petra than the two aspirin tablets which she immediately and obediently gulped down. She was hardly tired at all now, in spite of having had no sleep.