“What do you mean, a squad?” Jean asked.
“Oh, do errands, if there are any. You know, shipping, or errands at the drugstore or books from the library for your patients. Just anything anyone wants us to do,” Tommy said. “You just have Kit or whoever’s on the switchboard call home when you want something. We’ll get it done.”
Jean felt tears sting her tired eyes.
“We can cart clothes to the laundry,” Billy reminded Tommy. “We got our bikes rigged up to carry big bundles. We could pick up your things in the morning, and then the guys who would drive your trucks could be free to do other things.”
“Oh, golly, boys,” Jean cried. “I’ll tell Dr. Barsch.”
Tommy saw how close Jean was to crying. “Come on, gang,” he said. And the three boys ran down the hospital steps.
Jean fought back the lump in her throat and said to Kit, “Make out a note to Dr. Barsch. He’ll keep them busy.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Kit said, jotting the message down on a scratch pad.
“Somehow I don’t feel so tired any more,” Jean confided. “I think I’ll peek into the contagious ward before I go to bed.”
Kit grinned. “Maybe I should join you. I haven’t had any calls but Tommy’s since I’ve been here. I’ll fall asleep myself, if I don’t get more business.”