“Please, Mabel, don’t talk so loud. Somebody will hear. They may even send me back if they find I have malaria. I’m going to doctor myself and knock it out.”
“When that bug gets a grip on you it’s not so easy as you think.”
“Please don’t tell anyone, Mabel. It would be awful to be sent away right now, just as I’m about to get on Tommy’s track.”
“Of course—if you don’t want me to. If you’re not better in a day or two, though, you’ve got to see one of the doctors.”
When the nurses, who shared their outdoor quarters, started off to the mess hall in white Nancy said wistfully, “It sure makes me think of home, seeing you all in regulations.”
Mabel placed a glass of fruit juice on a box under Nancy’s net before leaving, and ordered her to sleep. The girls had been gone only a few minutes when Nancy dropped into a feverish sleep. She was roused some time later by sounds of the Fuzzy Wuzzies’ ceremonial drums. She went to sleep again with them ringing in her ears, and didn’t rouse till dawn. She was wet with perspiration and realized her fever had burned itself out. Though she was weak and her head ringing from quinine, she got into her clothes and went on duty. She knew she would have forty-eight hours before a chill gripped her again, if her heavy doses of quinine were not sufficient yet to knock it out.
How glad she was afterward that she did force herself to go on duty. As she entered the ward to take Shorty’s place, her little friend said, “Vernon woke during the night and asked for you.”
“Why didn’t you send for me?”
“Mabel wouldn’t let me. She said you were all in. But he’s much better this morning—ate some breakfast.”
Nancy waited for no more, but hurried to the gunner’s bed. He was finishing some cereal, and gave her a wan smile as she drew near.