A Girl in Ten Thousand | Page 4

which she filled so perfectly in the home life? Dr. Staunton never thought about it at all. Effie was just a dear little girl--not a bit modern; she was the comfort of her mother's life, and, for that matter, the comfort of his also.
He looked at her now with his usual grave smile. "Well, Effie, useful and charming as usual? I see you have not forgotten my favorite dish, and I am glad of it, for I can tell you I am just starving. I have had a hard day's work, and it is nice to feel that I can rest for this evening at least."
"Have you been to the Watsons', dear?" inquired Mrs. Staunton. "They sent a message for you two or three hours ago."
"Yes; I met the farmer in the High Street, and went straight out to the farm. Mrs. Watson is better now, poor soul; but it is a bad case, the heart is a good deal implicated. I shall have to go out there again the first thing in the morning. It would be a dreadful thing for that family if anything happened to her."
"The heart--is it heart trouble?" said Mrs. Staunton.
"Yes, yes! Don't you begin to fancy that your case is the least like hers; yours is only functional, hers is organic. Now, why have I broken through my rule of saying nothing about my patients? You will be fancying and fretting all night that you are going to shuffle off this mortal coil just as quickly as poor Mrs. Watson will have to do before long, I fear. Why, Effie, what is the matter? Why are you staring at me with those round eyes?"
Mrs. Staunton looked also at Effie, and the sudden memory of her recent conversation with her returned.
"By the way," she said, "if you are likely to be at home this evening, John, Effie would like to ask her friend Dorothy Fraser to come in for an hour or two. She wants to introduce her to you."
"She is one of those modern girls, is she not?" said the doctor.
"Oh, father, she is just splendid," said Effie. "If you only knew her, if you could hear her speak----"
"Well, my dear, don't get into a state, and above all things, don't learn that dreadful habit of exaggeration. I dare say Miss Fraser is very well, but there are few prodigies in the world, my little Effie; and, for my part, give me the home birds--they are the girls for my world; they are the girls who will make good wives by and by. There, my love, I shall be pleased to welcome any friend of yours, so ask her over, by all means. She won't mind the old doctor's pipe, I hope?"
"Oh, no, father!" Effie could not help smiling. She knew perfectly well that Dorothy thought it no harm to indulge in a tiny cigarette herself, not often, nor every day, but sometimes when she was dead beat, as she expressed it. Effie had to keep this knowledge of her friend's delinquencies to herself. If Dr. Staunton knew that Dorothy did not consider smoking the unpardonable sin in woman, he would not allow her inside his doors. "I will go and fetch her," Effie said, jumping up and putting on her hat. "She is longing to know you, father, and you can smoke two or three pipes while she is here."
Effie left the room. Mrs. Staunton looked at her husband. "I doubt if Dorothy Fraser is the best of friends for our Effie."
"Eh!" said the doctor, taking his pipe out of his mouth for a moment. "What ails the girl?"
"Oh, nothing at all," replied Mrs. Staunton. "Effie is very fond of her, and I believe she really is a fine creature. You know she is educating her two brothers."
"What is she doing--how does she earn her living?"
"Oh, she is a nurse in a hospital. She has been in St. Joseph's Hospital for years, and is now superintendent of one of the wards. She gets a good salary."
The doctor rubbed his hands together in a somewhat impatient way. "You know my opinion of lady nurses," he said, looking at his wife.
"Well, dear, make the best of Dorothy for Effie's sake. I hear the steps of the two girls now. You will do what you can to be agreeable, won't you?"
"No," said the doctor; "I shall growl like a bear with a sore head, when I see women who ought to be content with sweet home duties struggling and pining to go out into the world."
The last words had scarcely left the doctor's lips before the dining-room door was opened, and Effie, accompanied by her friend, entered the room.
Dorothy Fraser was about twenty-eight years of age; she was tall; she had a fair, calm sort of