My Queen_ A Weekly Journal for Young Women. Issue 4, October 20, 1900 Marion Marlowe's Noble Work; or, The Tragedy at the Hospital
A WEEKLY JOURNAL FOR YOUNG WOMEN
No. 4. PRICE, FIVE CENTS.
MARION MARLOWE’S NOBLE WORK
THE TRAGEDY AT THE HOSPITAL
BY GRACE SHIRLEY
PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY STREET & SMITH, 238 William Street, New York City.
Copyright, 1900, by Street & Smith. All rights reserved. Entered at New York Post-Office as Second-Class Matter.
Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by Street & Smith, 238 William St., N. Y.Entered According to Act of Congress in the year 1900, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.
No. 4. NEW YORK, October 20, 1900. Price Five Cents.
Marion Marlowe’s Noble Work;
THE TRAGEDY AT THE HOSPITAL.
By GRACE SHIRLEY.
A TRIO OF DOCTORS.
The College of Physicians and Surgeons,or the “P. & S.,” as it is usually called, hadjust graduated a large class of promisingyoung doctors, and the morning after thecommencement exercises the big buildinglooked deserted. As Dr. Reginald Brookes,a handsome young man of twenty-two,passed down the steps, dress suit case inhand, he came face to face with two of hisclassmates.
“Hello, doc. What did you get, Charity orBellevue? I hear you competed,” called oneof the young doctors.
“Neither one,” said Dr. Brookes, with asmile of amusement, “I got a berth in thePenitentiary, Greenaway!”
“Oh, that’s too bad!” said Dr. Fielding, apleasant-faced gentleman. “You’ll rust inthat place—they never have anything interesting!Why, the best you will see will bea few contusions and a case of cholera morbusor eczema of some kind.”
Reginald Brookes still smiled, although heknew his friend was speaking truthfully.
“I’m going to Bellevue, and I’m mightyglad of it,” said Fielding, enthusiastically.“For if there is anything going they get it atBellevue.”
“Yes, they catch it all, there,” was Dr.Greenaway’s answer, “and it’s not so farfrom the world as the Island, either.”
“Then there’s any number of pretty nursesto flirt with,” he said, laughing. “No lackof either fun or work in the wards of oldBellevue.”
“I’m sorry for you, Brookes,” exclaimedDr. Fielding again. “Why, you poor chap,you’ll hardly see a pretty face where you aregoing, for I understand that the prisonwomen do about all the nursing.”
“Yes, ‘Big Belle, the Confidence Queen,’ ishead nurse there now, I believe,” laughedBrookes, “or at least she is guardian of thewoman’s ward just at present. I expect I’llhave to leave my watch and money outsidewhen I go on duty. She might try her skillon me, just to keep in practice.”
“Well, I am sorry for you, doc; still it isbetter than no berth at all,” said Greenaway,sadly, “I didn’t get a thing, and I’m the poorestman in the college.”
“By Jove, that’s too bad!” said ReginaldBrookes, with feeling. “But, say, what areyou going to do; you can’t go into generalpractice without capital.”
Fred Greenaway shrugged his shouldersand frowned slightly.
“I used up all I had on my education,” hesaid, briefly, “but I’ll catch on to something.I’m not worrying about it.”
Dick Fielding rushed away at that momentin answer to a call from a friend, and in aflash Dr. Brookes put his hand on Greenaway’sshoulder.
“Let me lend you five thousand to startwith, old chap! I can do it as well as not,and you can give me an I. O. U. for security.”
Fred Greenaway looked up at the handsomefellow in amazement.
“Great Cæsar! Do you mean that, doc?”he asked, excitedly.
“Certainly,” said young Brookes, briefly,as he drew a check book from his pocket.“Why the deuce didn’t you tell me you werehard up before. I thought you consideredme your friend, you rascal!”
Fred Greenaway did not speak for thespace of a minute. Such generosity as thiswas totally unknown to him, and just at thistime it was doubly and trebly grateful.
“I guess I should have gone to the wall inspite of my grit,” he said slowly, as Brookesfolded and handed him the check. “Ihaven’t five dollars in my pocket this minute,and as there wasn’t a ghost of a show insight for me to practice my profession, I wasstarting out to apply for a job as motormanon a street car, or something of that sort.”
“Let me know how you get on,” saidBrookes, as he waited for the I. O. U. thatGreenaway was scribbling. “I’ll be on theIsland for a year, I suppose, unless I find, asFielding says, that I am actually rusting.”
“But why do you go there, Brookes?”asked his friend, rather anxiously. “Withyour money, what is to hinder your goingstraight into practice?”
Reginald Brookes did not answer the questionimmediately; he appeared to be a littleembarrassed.
“I’ll tell you, Fred!” he blurted outfinally, “but don’t give me away, old man, orthe boys will say I lack ambition; but the factis I’m in love—desperately in love, and it iswith a sweet little nurse who is ‘on probation’in Charity.”
“I see,” said Greenaway, with a smile ofamusement. “And you can’t bear the ideaof having the East River roll between you!Well, I don’t know that I blame you, doc, forafter all, what’s the good of money if youcan’t be independent!”
“It is just this way,” said Brookes, seriously,as the two friends started slowly upFifty-ninth street. “She is a beautiful girl,a country lass, and fresh as a daisy. I’msure I don’t know how she can endure thatplace, but she is determined to stay there andtake care of those poor wretches, and someway I thought she would be happier if I wentover and helped her.”
“Oh, how generous we are!” said Greenaway,laughing. “You mean you knew youwould be happier on Blackwell’s Island withher than you would on Fifth avenue withany other woman.”
“I see you know how it is,” said youngBrookes, with a grin of sympathy. “Youare in love yourself, old boy, or you couldn’tspeak so feelingly.”
“I admit it,” said Greenaway, a sad lookcrossing his face. “I’m in love all right, butthat is all the good it will ever do me.”
“Who is she?” asked Brookes, with a suddenkeen interest.
The frown deepened on Greenaway’s faceand his voice fell lower as he answered:“Her name is May Osgood, and she is anactress,” he said, slowly. “I have loved herfor some time—I can’t seem to get over it.”
That there was a reason why he shouldget over it was very apparent by his words,but Reginald Brookes was too cultured todream of asking his secret.
“Well, my little sweetheart is only seventeen,”he said gayly, “and, between you andI, she has not accepted me yet, so you see Ihave a double reason for wishing to be nearher.”
As they parted at the L station, Greenawayspoke rather suddenly.
“I’ll turn my life insurance over to you ifanything happens, Reg; but, by the way,what is your sweetheart’s name? I seem tohave a feeling that I ought to know it.”
Reginald Brookes glanced at him in a littlesurprise.
“Her name is Marion Marlowe,” he said,very slowly, then, as Greenaway ran up thestairs, he looked after him curiously.
“He’s a funny chap,” he muttered, uneasily.“Now, why the deuce did he feel thathe ought to know my little sweetheart’sname? Confound the fellow! He has nobusiness with such feelings!”
A WORD OF WARNING.
Augustus Atherton, attorney-at-law, wasseated in his office looking over some papers.
Suddenly he tapped a bell upon his deskand his office-boy entered.
“Tell Sands to bring me a copy of Halstead’stestimony, Bob,” he said, shortly, “andtell him to hurry; I want it this minute!”
“Mr. Sands is out to lunch, sir, won’t beback for half an hour,” said the boy, respectfully,“but Miss Marlowe has the copy; shallI tell her to bring it?”
“Yes, at once,” said the lawyer, wheelingaround in his chair.
In less than a minute his “typewriter girl”entered the office.
“Here is the paper, sir,” said a sweet, lowvoice.
Mr. Atherton looked up and then stared alittle. It was the first time he had reallytaken a good look at the new copyist.
The young girl who stood before him wasvery beautiful. She had a sweet, oval face,lighted by violet eyes, and her ripplinggolden hair shone like threads of sunshine.
Her figure was plump, but exceedinglygraceful, and every curve was enhanced bythe charming simplicity of her garments.
“Oh, thank you!” he said politely, as shelaid the papers upon the desk, and at thesame time he looked admiringly at her smallwhite hand and taper fingers.
“You copy very neatly and accurately,Miss Marlowe,” he said quickly, as she wasabout to turn respectfully and leave him.
“Thank you, sir,” said the beautiful girl,blushing. “I am very glad, indeed, that Iplease you. It is my first position and I amnaturally a little nervous.”
“You have never worked in an office before,then,” said the old lawyer, glancing herover critically. “Well, you are doing nicely,and Sands tells me you are very rapid.”
“I do manage the typewriter very easily,sir,” said the young girl, smiling, “and I amstudying very hard. I shall soon be a stenographer.”
“Then I’ll have you in here where I candictate to you,” said the lawyer, quickly.
“By Jove! What a treat that will be aftertwo years of Miss Dixon!”
His extraordinary manner astonished thegirl a little, but after a moment of embarrassmentshe managed to stammer:
“Oh, but I may never be as proficient asMiss Dixon; she takes notes like lightning,while I can only write fifty words a minute.”
“Well, I could talk slower,” said the lawyer,slyly, giving her another sharp look overhis glasses.
Dollie Marlowe smiled, but she was considerablypuzzled. It was the longest conversationthat she had had with her employer.
For she had only been working two weeks,and it was the first position of any kind thatshe had ever occupied.
She was only seventeen, but quite large forher age, and up to a few months before hadalways lived in the country.
As she bowed politely to the lawyer andhurried away from his desk, she could nothelp wondering if he had guessed just howgreen and simple she was, and whether hiswords were intended for anything more thankindly encouragement.
When she reached the little office whereher typewriter stood, Dollie went on withher work as steadily as ever, but more thanonce she caught herself thinking of her employer’swords and wondering if he reallydid want her to sit in his office.
Dollie Marlowe’s life in the city had notbeen without its experiences, and at timesthere was a cloud on the fair girl’s brow asthough some of those experiences had beenwoefully bitter.
She rarely said anything about her ownlife, but the name of her twin sister was frequentlyon her lips, and this sister was nowa nurse in Charity Hospital.
“My sister Marion is as beautiful as asaint,” she had told Miss Dixon. “She hasmagnificent gray eyes and such a queenlyair. Oh, I could talk forever and not tellhalf of Marion’s virtues!”
“If she is prettier than you are she mustbe beautiful,” Miss Dixon had said, honestly.She was one of the few plain women whocould see beauty in others and admit it.
She came into the little office while Dolliewas working, only a few minutes after thetalk with Mr. Atherton.
“There is a boy out in the hall looking foryou, Miss Marlowe,” she said, pleasantly,“and I should judge by his looks that he hadsome important news. Oh, no, not bad news,I am sure!” she added, as she saw the changein Dollie’s face. “He was grinning andshowing every tooth in his head. A mightynice-looking boy, too; perhaps he is yoursweetheart.”
“My sweetheart is not a boy, Miss Dixon,”said Dollie, proudly. “He is twenty years oldand is a bookkeeper at a good salary. Thismust be Bert Jackson, one of my old neighborsin the country.”
She rose from her machine and hurried outinto the hall. Sure enough, there stood Bert,very impatient, but still grinning.
“I just dropped in to tell you the goodnews,” said Bert, as quick as he saw her.“I’ve been adopted by a rich man, and I’mto have my choice of a future profession.”
“Oh, Bert, how lovely!” cried Dollie, enthusiastically.She could hardly believe thatsuch good fortune had befallen