Free Consulting Surgeon by Jane Arbor Page A

the care of Averil upon Matthew and, on the rare occasions when Ursula and Averil met, Ursula was uncomfortably aware that the young widow’s feeling was hardening against her. Through no fault of her own—merely at Matthew Lingard’s suggestion—she was being forced to take with Mrs. Damon the place Averil should have. For that reason—though for no other, since she was growing to love Lucy Damon—she felt it was a good thing that she must leave Shere Court before Averil’s resentment of her should flare to open enmity.
    On the Friday Matthew took Averil to London by car, and when the four of them met at dinner that night Ursula had had no opportunity to ask him whether Mrs. Damon knew that she must leave next day. So as they sat over dessert she chose her moment to say as lightly as possible: “Well, by this time tomorrow I shan’t be here, shall I?”
    Indirectly she had addressed Matthew, but it was Mrs. Damon’s distressed voice which broke in upon his reply. “ Not here, Ursula dear? But you can’t leave me yet! She can’t, can she, Matthew? I need her so much!”
    What would he reply? She knew that she must return to duty on time. But previously he had urged his aunt’s need of her so vigorously that she wondered how far she could look to him to back her up now.
    She need not have been afraid. When he spoke to Mrs. Damon it was with the gentle compassion he always had for her, but still with firmness. He said: “Ursula must go, Aunt Lucy. She has been able to be with you because she has had leave until now. But that is up tomorrow, and she must go back.”
    “I know—and it was sweet of her to give up her leave to me. But something could surely be arranged, if the authorities knew how necessary she is to me? Why, you could do something about it yourself, Matthew!”
    Ursula, glancing at her, was surprised by the little autocratic gleam in the blue eyes. Clearly Lucy Damon, gentle as she was, had a will that had not often been thwarted. But Matthew was explaining as patiently as to a child: “Aunt Lucy, dear, Ursula is a ward sister, and that means that she has a load of responsibility which I mustn’t ask her to shift, even for you. Don’t think, though, that I’m suggesting that her patients are more important than you are. It’s simply that her work has made them her particular care, where you are not, except through her generosity. Do you understand that that is why we must let her go?”
    Ursula looked at him in sheer gratitude. Could this be the same man who had made fun of her “self-importance,” of her “efficiency,” and had ridiculed what he called the “awful majesty” of ward sisters? It was strange—but very heartening—to find him so emphatically on her side now.
    Mrs. Damon murmured: “You make it very difficult for me to ask her, Matthew.” Then, turning to Ursula: “I oughtn’t to doubt it, my dear, but are you really as important as he says?”
    Before Ursula replied she glanced at Matthew, and caught the familiar, glinting mockery in his eye as he answered the question for her. He leaned forward, his stage-whisper studiedly penetrating as he said: “Important, you ask? Why, she is so important that the whole machinery of the hospital might be expected to creak to a standstill without her!”
    Again Ursula had to be grateful to him, for having put the argument on a lighter note, making it easier to discuss without real rancor or further hurt to Mrs. Damon’s feelings. She said laughingly: “You are not expected to believe that, you know!”
    “But I could, I think. You are so capable and so sympathetic that I could believe that the welfare of countless people must hinge upon you.”
    Ursula shook her head. “Really, only the bit about ‘machinery’ was true. I am no more than one cog in one wheel that must lit and work faultlessly with all the other wheels and must go on doing so, night and day, because the work in hospital never stops. I assure you I’m no