The girl groaned deeply and Dr. Ethridge Sterling, Junior, intervened....
He took her pulse again. Noted the excellent heart action. Began carefully going over the abdomen. Once or twice she cried distantly, and he decided the best thing to do was to put her out of her pain. The heart action was so splendid that the wisest way to keep her from babbling to the nurses would be to narcoticize her.
So he took her head in his hands and went, painstakingly, over the skull. There were no masses, no abrasions, no visible signs of anything extraordinary. She was in shock, of course. But an accident coupled with an endeavor to make old Herb Barton keep his distance.... That recollection killed his critical faculty for an instant. He lifted the head slightly forward and massaged the curls which nestled in the hollow at the base of the skull.
The fat interne and Miss Kexter, the floor nurse, returned simultaneously. Dr. Sterling resolutely replaced the head among the pillows and said, shortly:
“No signs of concussions, or injuries; with the exception of that abdominal sensitivity. Case of extreme shock. Acute pain is from strained ligaments and bruises. Nurse, give her an eighth of morphia injection. Doctor, keep your eye on her respiration and notify me at ten. I’ll be in my rooms, probably. Main thing is to keep her quiet.”
The nurse’s flat voice replied:
“Yes, Doctor. Do you wish a night nurse, Doctor Sterling?”
“Depends. Let you know later.”
She blocked his exit. Her voice was embarrassed:
“They called from the Admitting Office, Doctor, to complete her history. They said Miss Kerr told them you knew her name. Miss Jaunts asked me...?”