The Red Cross Girl | Page 9

they observe things that other
people miss and because they do not let it appear that they have
observed them. When the great man who is being interviewed blurts
out that which is indiscreet but most important, the cub reporter says:
"That's most interesting, sir. I'll make a note of that." And so warns the
great man into silence. But the star reporter receives the indiscreet
utterance as though it bored him; and the great man does not know he
has blundered until he reads of it the next morning under screaming
headlines.
Other men, on being suddenly confronted by Sister Anne, which was
the official title of the nursing sister, would have fallen backward, or
swooned, or gazed at her with soulful, worshipping eyes; or, were they
that sort of beast, would have ogled her with impertinent approval.
Now Sam, because he was a star reporter, observed that the lady before
him was the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen; but no one
would have guessed that he observed that--least of all Sister Anne. He
stood in her way and lifted his hat, and even looked into the eyes of
blue as impersonally and as calmly as though she were his
great-aunt--as though his heart was not beating so fast that it choked
him.
"I am from the REPUBLIC," he said. "Everybody is so busy here
to-day that I'm not able to get what I need about the Home. It seems a
pity," he added disappointedly, "because it's so well done that people
ought to know about it." He frowned at the big hospital buildings. It
was apparent that the ignorance of the public concerning their
excellence greatly annoyed him.
When again he looked at Sister Anne she was regarding him in
alarm--obviously she was upon the point of instant flight.
"You are a reporter?" she said.
Some people like to place themselves in the hands of a reporter because
they hope he will print their names in black letters; a few others--only
reporters know how few--would as soon place themselves in the hands
of a dentist.

"A reporter from the REPUBLIC," repeated Sam.
"But why ask ME?" demanded Sister Anne.
Sam could see no reason for her question; in extenuation and
explanation he glanced at her uniform.
"I thought you were at work here," he said simply. "I beg your pardon."
He stepped aside as though he meant to leave her. In giving that
impression he was distinctly dishonest.
"There was no other reason," persisted Sister Anne. "I mean for
speaking to me?"
The reason for speaking to her was so obvious that Sam wondered
whether this could be the height of innocence or the most banal
coquetry. The hostile look in the eyes of the lady proved it could not be
coquetry.
"I am sorry," said Sam. "I mistook you for one of the nurses here; and,
as you didn't seem busy, I thought you might give me some statistics
about the Home not really statistics, you know, but local color."
Sister Anne returned his look with one as steady as his own.
Apparently she was weighing his statement. She seemed to disbelieve it.
Inwardly he was asking himself what could be the dark secret in the
past of this young woman that at the mere approach of a reporter--even
of such a nice-looking reporter as himself--she should shake and
shudder. "If that's what you really want to know," said Sister Anne
doubtfully," I'll try and help you; but," she added, looking at him as one
who issues an ultimatum, "you must not say anything about me!"
Sam knew that a woman of the self-advertising, club- organizing class
will always say that to a reporter at the time she gives him her card so
that he can spell her name correctly; but Sam recognized that this
young woman meant it. Besides, what was there that he could write
about her? Much as he might like to do so, he could not begin his story

with: "The Flagg Home for Convalescents is also the home of the most
beautiful of all living women." No copy editor would let that get by
him. So, as there was nothing to say that he would be allowed to say, he
promised to say nothing. Sister Anne smiled; and it seemed to Sam that
she smiled, not because his promise had set her mind at ease, but
because the promise amused her. Sam wondered why.
Sister Anne fell into step beside him and led him through the wards of
the hospital. He found that it existed for and revolved entirely about
one person. He found that a million dollars and some acres of buildings,
containing sun-rooms and hundreds of rigid white beds, had been
donated by Spencer Flagg only to provide a