MRS1 The Under Dogs

MRS1 The Under Dogs Read Online Free PDF Page B

Book: MRS1 The Under Dogs Read Online Free PDF
Author: Hulbert Footner
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Classics
in here. Well, I'm the baby that can supply it. There's always somepin doin' where I am. I'm Melanie Soupert. (She pronounced it Soupairr). Guess you heard of me, eh? the warden's plague, the keeper's pest, the worst girl in Woburn! Down with the reformers!"
    The patients received this with hilarity, of course. The ward nurse looked sour, but said nothing. One of the first rules of the infirmary was, that the quickest way to subdue an obstreperous patient was to ignore her.
    I was told off to see that Melanie undressed and got into bed. She did not require any actual assistance. In the cubicle she continued to shout pleasantries over the top of the partition to the girls outside.
    "Hey, there! you with the pink boojewar cap at the end of the row! You look like a live one when you're up. What's your name?"
    The answer came back: "Sarah Mitchell from Syracuse."
    Said Melanie: "Well, Syracuse Sarah, you and me'll be pals, eh? We'll liven things up around this dump. Who's askeared of a lot of nurses? What are you in for, Sarah?"
    "Stickin' up a cigar-stand."
    "Small stuff! Small stuff!" said Melanie scornfully. "I lifted a pearl necklace worth thirty thou. I wouldn't bother with nothing smaller."
    And so on. And so on. Melanie paid not the slightest attention to me. It was a little too soon for me to make myself known to her. So I just stood there, and when the ward nurse had gone, smiled in a way to suggest to her that she could count on my secret sympathy in her defiance of the authorities.
    She broke off her repartee to say to me: "Say, Sis, can you wangle me a butt?"
    For a moment I felt blank—then I got it. Could I get her a cigarette. "I'm new here," I murmured. "I don't know the ropes."
    "Oh, we'll soon break you in. We'll soon break you in," she said cheerfully.
    This loud, impudent cheerfulness was merely her prison pose, of course. It had nothing to do with the real girl. One would have to dig deep for that. Those flashing dark eyes of hers suggested infinite possibilities. Just as on the former occasion, I felt myself strongly drawn to her. She was dead game, and that quality in man or woman is hard to resist. Moreover, she was a beautiful young creature. The coarse nightgown, and hideous gray jacket could not hide it.
    One of the night nurses wanted to go to a picture show in the prison, and I volunteered to remain on duty until ten o'clock. The ill patients fell asleep early, and Melanie, who was not at all ill, and extremely lively and wideawake, was dependent on me for her amusement. The ward nurse encouraged me to remain with her, as otherwise she would sing in a loud voice, or shout over the wall of the cubicle. Thus everything worked out to my advantage.
    I sat on the foot of the high hospital cot, swinging my feet; and while she joshed me, I debated how best to open my business with her. My heart was beating fast; it is always breathlessly exciting to give the handle of life a turn, not knowing what sort of a tune is coming out of the box. With too much thinking of what I ought to say, I could say nothing. Meanwhile, the precious moments were flying. Finally I approached it this way:
    "You're not sick. How did you come to get in the infirmary?"
    "Oh, I was sick two days ago," said Melanie. "These officials always get round to a thing after it's over."
    "What was the matter with you?"
    "Melancholia," she said, grinning.
    "Not much sign of it now?"
    "Oh, I had a bit of good news, kid," she said, with her eyes shining, and her voice scaling up joyfully.
    "What was that?" I asked.
    But she instantly repented of the peep she had given me into her heart. "Oh, me mother-in-law went into a coma, and has lost the use of her tongue," she drawled mockingly.
    "I'll tell you how you happened to get here," I said boldly. "I arranged it."
    She stared at me in the purest amazement.
    "I'm no nurse," I said.
    "What the hell are you, then?"
    "Private secretary to Madame Storey."
    Melanie became very still. She had dropped all
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