Daughter of England

Chapter 4. A War Nurse.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.--Charles Dickens

Chapter 4.

A War Nurse.

The day after Dr. Morris' butcher test Carol found herself back in the laundry room, directing the washer woman as they scrubbed the sheets and shirts. The door opened and Florence slipped in.

"Over here, Floy," Carol called to her. Florence acknowledged her with a nod as she hastily came up to her.

"What have you done to Dr. Morris?"

Carol blinked at this unexpected question. "What do you mean?"

"Last night, what did you say to him?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary." Carol turned a little red as she recalled last night's conversation with the doctor. "I told him my honest opinion of him and then lost my tempter after a difficult and serious operation."

Florence let out a chuckle. "This morning he came to me and asked if I would let you be his personal assistant. He praised your work last night, said you not only had a fine steady hand and a quick wit, but could keep your head about you and retain your common sense even in the light of a bloody operation. It was strange hearing him speak of you in such a manner, I was sure Dr. Morris disliked you."

"I was sure of that too." Carol was as stunned as Florence. "What was your reply?"

"I said if the two of you could stand each other, then he could have you by all means. He's got a long line of men to be operated on and wants you with him quick as possible."

Carol hurriedly dried her hands and ran off in search of Dr. Morris. Maybe the man wasn't so bad after all; maybe he wasn't so self-righteous and full of himself as she had originally thought. Maybe the two of them could somehow end up even liking each other.

Coming to the operating room, Carol fixed her hideous uniform and knocked on the door.

"Enter!" Dr. Morris' grumpy voice called out.

Opening the door, Carol found the doctor standing by the operating table, a young gentleman with him.

"Miss Winter," Dr. Morris snapped at her, "I haven't got all day. Why haven't you any hot water with you? And bring fresh bandages, quick as you like!"

Carol forced a smile and hurried off to do as she was told. Dr. Morris seemed to be in a terrible state of temper today, worse than last night that was for sure.

The necessary items were soon acquired and Carol brought them back. As she once more entered the operating room, she found the doctor and his partner in a serious, angry debate.

"I don't care what sort of a gentleman you are!" Dr. Morris' thundered. "You will scrub those hands in hot water or leave that door."

"There is no need to be so cross," his companion replied in a dry, droll voice. "My hands are perfectly clean, there is no need to wash them a second time."

"Mr. Landel, I am the head surgeon and in charge of this here operating room. If I tell you to wash the bloody hands, you will wash them and not argue with me."

"You are impossible to work with, sir!"

"Get the bloody hell out of here, Mr. Landel!" Dr. Morris ordered in a severe voice. "If you refuse to take orders you have no business tinkering around with the bodies of men. Why, even the nurses are better at assisting at operations than you. Work under some other surgeon if you wish, but not with me."