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Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse

<h2 id="x">10. Kit at the Capital</h2> In Washington, D. C., summer was well under way. The gentle breezes from the South warmed the city. A few weeks later, the capital would be sweltering in southern summer heat. Frank Howard gazed out of the window of his office. From his desk he could just see a corner of the park where Washington’s monument and the Lincoln Memorial faced each other across the glassy pond. He smiled absently at the small, full, Japanese cherry trees lining the park. Across the room sat Leslie Merrivale, Frank’s partner. He, too, studied the cherry trees, but his face was grim. “I never can see those things in bloom without shuddering,” he said. Frank turned away from the window and laughed. “I know what you mean, Les,” he answered. “I used to feel the same way. The trees were a gift from the Japanese, and the beetles were an unwitting gift from them. It’s strange how you keep connecting the two in your mind.” He shuddered slightly as he thought of the fierce battle entomologists all over the[100] country had waged against the destructive insects from Japan. Leslie grinned. “I tell you, I don’t know why people go into this work. Spring is supposed to be a happy time of year. Everything comes to life. Old people feel better. Young people fall in love. Babies stop having colds. And entomologists know that it’s time to go to work. How many larvae do you reckon are concealed in that elm down there?” Frank shrugged and lit his pipe. “It’s time you went on a field trip, Les,” he said. “You’re getting finicky. What’s the matter? Don’t you like bugs?” Leslie shook his head in mock despair. “You know what I mean. Sure, I love to study the little crawling things. But every year, after all the work we do, just to see those blossoming trees and plants and to know they’re infested with insects of every type imaginable—it’s a little discouraging.” Frank blew out the match and drew on his pipe. “It should encourage you to see the blossoms. As long as they come out, we know we’re all right. There still is a good balance. Cheer up, man. People are supposed to be happy in the spring.” Leslie studied his partner’s face. “You’re happy enough for both of us today,” he commented dryly. “But then we’re all not lucky enough to be in love.” Frank nodded. “Yes,” he said slowly. “That’s true. Spring is a great time for sweethearts.” “And,” Leslie continued, “those of us who are in[101] love aren’t all lucky enough to have their young ladies come halfway across a continent to see us.” Frank chuckled. “You flatter me, Les,” he said. “Kit Craig is coming to Washington on business.” Leslie threw down his pencil. “Now tell me, Frank, what sort of business does a college girl have? I thought their lives were full of beaux and football games and parties and as few studies as possible.” “Oh, no. This is serious. Kit is president of her college’s historical society. There’s a big convention in town this week, and Kit will be here to represent Hope College.” Frank smiled fondly as he thought of Kit and of how seriously she would take her mission. His partner turned back to his work. “Well, you’re pretty lucky, old man,” he said. Frank nodded silently as he gazed out of the window. Then he glanced at his watch and admonished himself for wasting time. Picking up a report which lay on his desk, he began to study it. He shook his head from side to side as he read it and then he jotted down notations in the margin. Elm blight again! The first signs were being seen on a midwestern campus. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he scanned the report further. Saving elms would be a major project for the country this summer. Frank phoned the laboratory and asked them to send for samples. It was almost a futile gesture, he[102] realized. The year before, the labs were full of samples of rotting elm branches, all destroyed by the same insect. “Les,” he said to his partner, “have the same order about the elm blight inserted in all bulletins. If we can get the towns and farmers to spray their trees early, we may save them. It’s our only chance. You can’t kill the beast once he’s imbedded in the tree, but you can prevent him from attacking in the first place.” Leslie made a note on his desk memo pad. “Nature gets you at every turn,” he muttered. “First you discover D.D.T., and then she discovers a little creature which won’t succumb to the treatment.” “It’s the balance,” Frank said philosophically. “Maybe there’s a reason we don’t understand.” “Yeah, maybe,” Leslie said skeptically. They worked in silence for the next hour. Then Frank glanced at his watch again and stood up. “I guess I’ll call it a day,” he said. “Kit’s train gets in at six, and I want to clean up first.” “She must be some girl,” Leslie marveled, “to drag you out of this office before dinnertime.” Freshly shaved and bathed, Frank drove his convertible into the Washington terminal at ten minutes to six. He neatly avoided the row of taxicabs standing before the entrance and found a parking place. Hurrying, he pushed his way through the milling crowds on the concourse and went into the waiting[103] room. He looked at the schedules on a blackboard near the exits to the trains. Kit’s train was on time. Nervously he adjusted his tie. The train was announced, and Frank moved forward with the crowd to the exit. He could see the open platform and an excited group of young people running towards the doors. In spite of himself he felt a thrill of pride when he saw their happy, enthusiastic faces. Here were boys and girls from all over the country gathering in their nation’s capital. Some for the first time. He was proud of his country which had sponsored the happy youngsters. And he was proud of his beautiful city which had so much to offer them. Then he spotted Kit. She was surrounded by a group of boys and girls, laughing and chattering and waving to passers-by. She looked radiant with her short dark curls bouncing in the breeze and her large eyes flashing. Frank felt proud and yet as shy as a schoolboy as he ran forward to the gate to meet her. Kit grabbed his hands, and he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “Hi, Kit,” he said. “Oh, Frank, it’s so good to see you,” she cried. And breathlessly she introduced him to the young people around her. He smiled into their young, eager faces, and finally drew Kit over to one side. “Let me look at you,” he said. “My, but it’s been a long time!” “Too long,” Kit said. “I certainly have missed you.” [104] “Where are you staying? How much of your time do I get to monopolize? How long will you be here?” Kit laughed to silence his questions. “One at a time,” she gasped. “We’re all staying at the Willard. Two professors and their wives are acting as our chaperons. I don’t know my schedule yet, but there will be just two hours in the morning and two in the afternoon for sessions. Then I should be free for the rest of the time.” Frank reached for her bag and laughed. “Then I can get some work done while you’re in town.” Kit caught his arm. “Why don’t you come back to Elmhurst with me?” she asked. Frank nodded thoughtfully. “It might be arranged. Now let’s get you to the hotel and checked in. Then dinner, and then whatever you want to do in our nation’s capital.” Kit nodded. “Of course we have to observe regular hours, Frank,” she said. “I’ll have to check out just as at school if I go anywhere. But first I want to call Mother.” “Of course you do,” Frank agreed. “To arrange about your coming, of course,” Kit teased. Frank ushered her into his car. “Of course,” he said solemnly. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started off. He guided the convertible through the city traffic with ease and pulled up before the Willard[105] Hotel. “Tell you what,” he said. “You go on in and unpack and call home and make whatever arrangements you have to with your chaperons. Then I’ll pick you up for supper in an hour.” Kit jumped out of the car. “All right, Frank,” she agreed. “But don’t make it more than an hour. I’m starving already.” He waved to her as he pulled away from the curb. The doorman, with Kit’s bag in hand, guided her into the lobby. A group of students was gathered around the front desk. Kit joined them and nodded to the doorman to put down her luggage. “Who’s the VIP, Kit?” one of the girls asked. Kit glanced around at the group. They were all looking at her. “Oh, a friend of mine,” she tossed off. “Well, if you like them old ...” one catty voice commented. A storm of protest broke forth from the group and Kit relaxed as she heard admiring comments about Frank from all sides. Kit shared her room with Helen Smith from a small college in Iowa, and Bernice Traxler from Northwestern University. Helen was a small, pale girl who had gone to college right from her father’s farm. Bernice was tall and dark and striking looking. Bernice was a native of Evanston and a very sophisticated young lady. Kit wondered fleetingly how Bernice and Helen would hit it off as roommates. [106] “Do you girls mind if I tie up the phone for a while?” Kit asked. “I want to call my mother.” “Of course not,” Helen said. “I don’t know anyone to call, anyway.” She laughed, and Kit felt drawn to this honest girl from an Iowa farm. “Help yourself, Kit,” Bernice said. “I have a million things to do before I let people know I’m in town.” Kit asked for the long distance operator and completed her call immediately. “Hi, Mother!” she cried into the phone. “The trip was swell! No, I’m not a bit tired. I got your letter about the wedding and I cried even if I wasn’t there. Frank met me at the station, and I’m going to have dinner with him tonight. I wonder if it would be okay if he came back to Elmhurst with me? I mean, we haven’t decided definitely, or anything. I just mentioned it.” She waited for her mother’s answer. “That’s swell,” she cried. “Give my love to everyone. I’ll see you all Thursday.” She set the receiver back on the hook and turned to her roommates. “Is the man who met you at the station your beau?” Bernice asked. Kit hesitated. “Well, sort of,” she admitted. “We’re old friends, at least.” Bernice hummed. “I’d like an old friend like that,” she murmured. “Wouldn’t you, Helen?” “I thought he was awfully nice looking,” Helen agreed. [107] Bernice surveyed her wardrobe which was lying across her bed. “I guess I can make myself presentable for the evening,” she decided. Then she turned to Helen. “Can you?” she asked. Helen stared at her. “But I’m not going anywhere,” she protested. “Meetings don’t start till morning, and I don’t know a soul in Washington. I’ll just slip down for some dinner and then curl up with a book....” Bernice glared at her in mock severity. “Over my dead body,” she said. “No one comes to Washington and stays home reading. No one who knows me, anyhow. I’m going to do some phoning, and then you and I are going on a night tour of Washington.” Helen sat down on the edge of her bed. “But I haven’t a thing to wear! I think you’re wonderful to ask me, but really....” But Bernice was already speaking to a friend over the phone. “We’re two dateless waifs,” she said. “Two girls from the hinterland looking for some fun.” She winked at Helen. “Yes, Arnold, that will be perfect. We’ll be ready in an hour.” She set down the phone. “You and I have dates tonight. With a Congressman’s son and friend.” Helen stared at her. “You mean, just like that?” Bernice smiled at her. “If you don’t really want to go ... if you’re really too tired....” she started, regretting her impulsiveness. Kit sat down beside Helen. There were tears in the girl’s eyes. [108] “That’s one of the nicest things anyone ever did for me,” she cried. “But I don’t have anything to wear, and I don’t know how to act with Congressmen’s sons!” Bernice smiled. “You know how it’s like in a dorm. If you don’t have a dress, you borrow it. Right, Kit?” Kit nodded. “And as for Congressmen’s sons, just remember that most of them were raised on some farm in the corn-belt. Right, Kit?” Kit giggled. “Let’s fix Helen up with a dress,” she suggested. “I have something she can wear, I think.” And she opened the closet door where her freshly unpacked clothes hung. “Let’s see,” she said, running her hands over the hangers. “Try this one.” Helen gasped at the sight of the white tulle evening frock which Kit laid across her bed. “I ... I couldn’t!” she said. Kit smiled. “Of course you can. You probably wouldn’t hesitate if you were my roommate at school.” Helen touched the dress gingerly. Slowly she rose and slipped off her street dress. “I’ll take a shower and then try it,” she consented. In an hour all three girls were ready for their first night in Washington. Kit was lovely in a simple powder blue street-length dress with a matching jaunty little hat. She wore white gloves and blue slippers and carried a tiny blue bag. Bernice wore a sheath-like strapless black evening dress. Her hair was pulled[109] on top of her head and caught with a rhinestone clip. She pulled on long black gloves and turned to survey her new roommate. Bernice and Kit were amazed at the transformation. Helen looked like a fragile doll in the white tulle. Her blond hair was caught up high behind each ear and fell in curls at the back of her head. Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Do I look all right?” she asked timidly. Bernice looked at her and shook her head. “This will teach me to invite strange women on my dates. What I want to know is who’s going to look at me with you around?” “You look beautiful,” Kit agreed. Helen smiled happily. “I feel as if I do,” she said. “That always means I’m going to have a good time.” Frank was waiting for Kit when she came downstairs to the lobby. She introduced him to Professor and Mrs. Wilson, the chaperons, and then they headed out into the spring night. Kit sighed happily at the light of the city around them. “I like this,” she said simply. “I have a feeling that this trip is going to be wonderful. Every minute of it.” “You sound as if you had some doubts before,” Frank said. Kit told him about her two roommates and the generous gesture Bernice had made. “It just goes to prove,” she said, “that you can’t judge people beforehand.[110] I wish I could get over putting everyone into categories. Just because the girl comes from Evanston and has gorgeous clothes, I expected her to be a snob.” “Lots of nice people have money,” Frank said as if voicing a platitude. “Now, my little proletarian, where shall we go for dinner?” They traveled out Connecticut Avenue in Frank’s car. “I think for your first night, the Shoreham,” Frank said gravely. “Just to show you that wealth doesn’t exclude niceness.” “Don’t be such an idiot,” Kit cried. “It sounds marvelous!” Together they walked through the handsome lobby of the uptown hotel and out to the terrace where they were shown to a table. Frank ordered dinner while Kit looked about her. She clasped her hands together in sheer pleasure. While they ate, there was a floor show to entertain them. Then the music for dancing began. Kit grabbed Frank’s hand. “I know I should wait to be asked,” she said, “but let’s dance.” Frank put his hand over hers. “Let’s wait just a few minutes, Kit,” he pleaded. “I want to talk to you.” Kit felt a tingle run up her spine. She shivered. “Maybe I’m rushing things,” Frank admitted. “But can we talk now about you and me?” “Of course, Frank,” Kit said slowly. “I know you’ll think I’m forcing an issue,” Frank[111] continued, “but I think you know I’ve waited a long time, feeling the way I do.” “Wait, Frank,” Kit said, holding up her hand. “Let’s be very sure we want to talk about this.” “I know what you mean,” Frank answered. “In a way, it’s easier to go on just being friends ... with no complications. But, you see, the only trouble is that I’m in love with you, Kit. You know that, and I can’t keep still about it any longer.” It was the first time Frank had mentioned the word love. Kit was amazed at how coolly he said it, and how naturally she accepted it. She hesitated. “You make me feel very proud, Frank,” she said finally. Frank looked away. “Oh,” he said. Kit laid her hand on his arm. “Wait, I don’t think you understand,” she said. “I don’t exactly see how you could, when I don’t, myself. I’m nineteen, and that isn’t exactly young, but it isn’t very old, either. I had everything all figured out for my future, as you know. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t exactly plan on being in love ... just yet.” Frank smiled faintly. “I’m doing exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t do. Of course you’re too young....” “Your words had nothing to do with it,” Kit admitted a little sadly. “You see, I’ve been the closest to being unhappy this spring at school that I’ve ever been. I feel like an ungrateful wretch even to mention[112] it. But school has seemed so ... so pointless. I’ve been restless and moody and not interested in what was going on. All the boys seemed so ... childish. All the girls were so ... I don’t know. Kind of boring, with their silly endless prattling about boys and dates and parties. That’s a terrible way to feel about college but I realized I felt that way because of you. You’re in another world. And I’m beginning to think I won’t be happy till I’m in that world with you.” Frank squeezed her hand. “Oh, Kit,” he said, “I’m not asking you to love me right off. I just want to know I have a chance.” Kit looked down at the table. “I don’t know how Jean managed it,” she said. “Waiting so long, that is.” She looked up at Frank. “If a girl my age can really be in love, then I really love you, Frank.” Frank touched her hair with his fingers. “That’s good enough for me, Kit,” he said, grinning. “Come on. Let’s dance.” They glided across the dance floor, neither one of them seeming to touch the ground. And the hours slipped by too fast. Eventually Frank sighed and led Kit back to the table. “Curfew rings in a few minutes,” he said. “But at least I know that someday there won’t be a curfew for us.” <hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider" /> [113] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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