With barely a fleeting smile, Miss Kerr thrust the thermometer into Miss Standish’s hand and ran to close the windows. It had begun to rain.
While the windows were being closed Bessie Ellis, the child down the ward who had received the toy in the night, began crying in her sleep. She had been disturbed by the lightning, and her moans made the women shivery.
Several of the women called out to her and Mrs. Witherspoon’s lisping (her teeth again removed), “Alwite bavvy, don cwy,” struck Miss Standish as highly amusing. She slipped her thermometer around and laughed. Miss Kerr, the student nurse, flopped down the last window and went to the moaning child.
While she was walking down the ward there came another flash of lightning, a sudden hissing, and the lights went out. It was followed by a panicky silence and then the hysterical laughter of Mrs. Witherspoon.
Rose Standish ducked as if she had been hit, and as she ducked something began choking her about the neck. She spit her thermometer upon the bed and began tugging at the horrible pulling. A thing, like a brick, hit her upon the head as she tried to sit up, and she thought, “it can’t be the murderer, he only uses hypodermics,” and the lights went up, while Mrs. Witherspoon was still laughing, and she saw Miss Kerr standing between their beds, and reaching for her thermometer.
In a moment she understood that the sash of her kimona had become twisted about her neck, and it was the book she had been reading and stuck upon the edge of her pillow which had fallen ... and it was all absurd. All, that is, except the look in Miss Kerr’s eyes.
The surprised look, when she saw Miss Standish was still alive! Her tongue was so dry she couldn’t speak and a horrible nausea began rising within her, but Mrs. Witherspoon drew the girl’s evil eyes when she demanded that her bed be fixed now.
Miss Kerr went for the sheets and Miss Standish lay down and turned her face toward the window and tried to forget it all. She placed one of her thin hands at the base of her brain and began massaging her neck. This was no way to do. Get frightened at a little thing like a book hitting you. A person who lost her nerve over such things wasn’t fit to look for mice in a dark pantry let alone clear the reputation of Dr. Cub Sterling and solve the terror of the Elijah Wilson. Forget it all for a few minutes and remember the routine a student nurse should be following, now.
Of course the changing of Mrs. Witherspoon’s bed was throwing everything slightly behind time, but that should be finished in a minute, and she turned over to watch the girl make the bed. Her technique was excellent and she was a swift worker. Seemed sure of herself.
Even from the back, Rose knew she didn’t like her. And never would. Miss Kerr turned to finish the pulses. Then she began taking the flowers out of the ward for the night. She took the pink roses which the clowns had sent to the circus woman, and the nasturtiums the children had brought the fat woman, and Mrs. Witherspoon’s tube rose ... thank goodness ... and then she came back and gave out the final round of bed-pans, the final glasses of water, and went for her medicine tray.