Free Cherry Ames 09 Cruise Nurse by Helen Wells Page B

her feet. “We’d better get going. It must be time for dinner. You’ll meet the other girls in this section then. They’re all swell. We were wondering why you didn’t show up for lunch.” SCUTTLEBUTT
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    As they left Cherry’s stateroom, Brownie said in a carefully lowered voice, “Scuttlebutt says the purser’s safe was broken into. Have you heard?”
    “What do you mean, scuttlebutt?” Cherry asked.
    “Oh, it’s just a seagoing expression. Means the same as saying, ‘Gossip hath.’ The Old Man doesn’t like gossip, so I’m not saying anything more. In fact,” she admitted ruefully, “I don’t know anything more. I’ll bet it’s just one of those yarns, anyway.”
    She tucked her arm through Cherry’s as they strolled up to the promenade deck. Every now and then they lurched with the roll of the ship and almost tripped each other up.
    “We’re going to catch it tonight,” Brownie said. “I pity you. Seasick passengers are a pain in the neck.” In the grill Cherry met three other stewardesses.
    They all sat at one big table and, ignoring the Captain’s orders, gossiped throughout the meal. Cherry felt like a prig, but she could not violate her professional ethics and discuss Bill’s accident. Nor did she divulge that she had been in the purser’s offi ce when Ziggy discovered the safe had been broken into.
    “I wonder what was stolen,” Miranda, a pretty young stewardess, kept asking. “That safe must be crammed full of jewelry. There are signs in every stateroom advising the passengers to check all valuables with the purser.”
    “If this little bit of scuttlebutt ever reaches the passengers’ ears, the Old Man will have a fi t,” Brownie said. “Some of the women on this ship came aboard so 74 CHERRY
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    laden down with platinum and diamonds under their mink coats I don’t see how they managed to stagger up the gangplank.”
    Cherry saw Dr. Monroe dining at a near-by table with two ship’s offi cers. He smiled at her swiftly with his eyes and then did not look in her direction again.
    Cherry knew that he must have heard the scuttlebutt by now and wondered if he suspected her of gossiping with the other girls.
    Then she realized with relief that he couldn’t do that, for she hadn’t even mentioned it to him. And Ziggy must have told the ship’s surgeon that Cherry was with him when he found the safe had been rifl ed.
    “I was tempted to discuss the mystery with him,” Cherry remembered. “But I’m glad I didn’t.” Dinner over, the stewardesses hurried away to resume their duties. Cherry went down to the Crane suite, planning to stay with Timmy while his mother had her dinner in the big, al fresco dining room.
    “It’ll do you good to have a little change from these four walls,” Cherry insisted when Mrs. Crane protested that she could eat on a tray with Timmy. “And don’t hurry back. Timmy’s due for another inhalation and more aspirin at eight anyway. I’ll take his temperature then, too.”
    The word temperature decided Mrs. Crane. That was one thing she wasn’t even going to attempt to cope with. She looked rather worn and harried after a long afternoon with a fretful little boy, and gratefully thanked Cherry for relieving her.

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    Cherry noticed with amusement that in spite of her exhaustion, pretty Mrs. Crane took the time to shower and change into a lovely, clinging evening gown of pale sea-green chiffon. When she was ready to go she leaned over the bed to kiss Timmy good-bye. But he pushed her away crossly:
    “I don’t like all that red stuff on your mouth. It gets all over me and my pajamas and the sheets. Then somebody might think I was a sissy.”
    Cherry quickly took in the fact that Timmy felt nowhere near as well as he had earlier. She laid her hand on his forehead and took his pulse. Yes, his temperature had undoubtedly gone up, but that was to be expected at this time of the evening. She called after Mrs.