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Turning the handle of the door, Felicity entered Sister ’ s office, it was always her first job of the morning to see that everything was in order on Sister ’ s desk and that, no message demanded immediate attention. She removed a vase of drooping flowers and filed away a few X-rays left from the previous evening ’ s round, then tore the top leaf from the almanac. As she screwed the slip of paper in her hand, she glanced at the date on the calendar—April first; it was as if her heart had missed a beat, relief flooded her whole being. It was a joke, of course it was a joke, she had been thoroughly fooled, that ’ s all there was to it!
    Anxious to stifle a last lingering doubt Felicity flicked through the Night Sister ’ s report, then suddenly stopped as the entry lay exposed. ‘ John Briggs, restless, morphia at three a.m. ’ Her eyes travelled down the list. ‘ At 3.15 Mr. Guy Brenton admitted to Private Cubicle. Multiple injuries. ’ Felicity cl osed the book and stared down unseeingly at the dingy cardboard cover upon which her hands still rested. So it was true. A wave of disappointment enveloped her, then, conscious of Sister ’ s approaching footsteps, Felicity placed the report book tidily in its place and stood back to await her entry.

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    Sister Robinson was a woman of uncertain age. She had a pleasant manner and was generally considered by the nurses to be easy to work for, understanding and helpful, her staff liked her and consequently gave their best. No one knew quite how long she had been nursing but at some period of her career she had been attached to a children ’ s hospital; for that particular work her temperament must have been ideal and many were left wondering why she had ever made the change. Mannerisms, no doubt dating from that period, had persisted through the years, with the result that to Sister Robinson every patient was a child and should be cajoled and generally treated as such; the effect was unfortunate, especially on an adult, male ward. She appeared entirely unaware of the titters and sm o thered laughter which followed her round the ward, perhaps it didn ’ t matter, it was good-natured laughter and no patient or staff bore her any real ill will.
    Her whole appearance this morning gave away her suppressed excitement as she entered the office and close d the door carefully behind her. As she seated herself at her desk, her expression was tense and a wisp of her greying hair, usually so neatly hidden, had escaped from beneath her white frilled cap.
    “ Nurse Dene ... before you go on the ward, I ’ ve something to tell you, ” she began fussily.
    Considering it wise not to betray any previous knowledge, Felicity listened to Sister ’ s tale without interruption. It was largely what Diana had already told her; her friend ’ s information had apparently been entirely correct.
    “ You see, Nurse, we must do some thinking—some organizing, Mr. Brenton must have every attention. It means rearranging the work, you are my Senior, I shall want all the help you can give me. ”
    “ Of course, ” Felicity murmured, then went on, “ what do you suggest, Sister? ”
    “ We are terribly short-staffed as it is —” Sister Robinson frowned as she considered the problem, then went on, “ I think you ought to take on the nursing, I mean as ‘ Special ’ . I don ’ t want Mr. Brenton to have half a dozen different nurses attending him, you know how upsetting to a patient that can be. We are a male nurse short as it is, but Mr. O ’ Brien must find time to assist you. ” She leaned forward in her chair. “ Now, do you think you ’ ll be able to manage? ”
    “ Yes, that will be all right, Sister. ” Felicity ’ s lips curved into a smile as she added: “ I don ’ t think that Mr. Brenton will be a very easy patient, do you? ”
    “ No, dear, I don ’ t. ” With that happy air of friendliness which she could always adopt when occasion demanded, Sister