Nurse Trent's Children by Joyce Dingwell

table and pencil and paper for notes scattered here and there for the members’ convenience .
    Cathy took up a tray of used cups and was just hurrying kitchenward with it when a heavy hand was placed on her shoulder.
    “No need to emulate your girls, housemother. Your place is in the assembly room, not the kitchen. Please take up your position.”
    She looked up almost as sulkily as Rita had and met the ironic gaze of Jeremy Malcolm.
    “I’d prefer not to, thank you.”
    “It’s not a matter of preference, it’s a case, of what is expected of you. Come along at once.”
    The hand was still heavy on her shoulder. It impelled her toward the assembly-room door. Cathy hastily put down the tray and obeyed. She had to. The hand did not leave her until she did.
    As she entered the room Fayette Dubois came over. She was smiling.
    “Do you know I’ve just realized who you are, Aunty Cathy. You are the Miss Trent Jerry introduced me to the other night. I must say—with a sweeping glance “—that you looked very different then.”
    Cathy remembered the décolleté dress and tried not to look embarrassed. “I expect I did, Mrs. Dubois. Clothes do alter people.”
    “Some people. Some would still look aproned even in mink ... You enjoyed yourself that evening, Aunty Cathy?”
    “Very much, thank you. ”
    “Don’t thank me, thank Dr. Malcolm. It’s very good of him always to take over the initial welcome to our new housemothers. Rather dreary from his point of view, if enjoyable from yours. But then duty is always a bore, isn’t it?” and Fayette smiled.
    She gave a quick glance to Cathy, adding, “You realized, of course, that that was all it was, housemother?”
    “Of course,” said Cathy.
    Any more discussion on the topic of duty was prevented by the return of the doctor, who had been conversing with Colonel Manning.
    “Please come and be seated, ladies,” he said. “You, Miss Trent, near Mr. Flett. You come with me, Fayette.”
    “Anywhere ...” She whispered it quite audibly. Her beautiful eyes were for Malcolm now. She turned her back on Cathy and locked her arm in his.
    There was a scraping of chairs. The minister by Cathy’s side said a short prayer. The chairman, a Mr. Bell with a small mustache and big earnest eyes, opened the meeting and the discussions began.
    They welcomed David Kennedy. Then they ran through his list of young charges and allotted them their future schools. David had one boy, Andrew, ready to begin a trade. They discussed the boy’s future at length, and Cathy sat thinking of another boy who had been discussed many years ago, a boy who had grown up to be a doctor, Jeremy Malcolm.
    With a start she realized that Mr. Bell was asking her some domestic questions concerning the girls. She answered clearly and concisely, putting her views forward in the helpful manner that had been suggested to her in London. All the faces that were turned to her looked interested and sympathetic—all except Fayette’s. Mrs. Dubois was stifling a yawn with a beautiful white hand.
    She finished, and Mr. Bell said, “Thank you, Miss Trent. I believe we have dealt with all the necessary business. Has anyone anything they want to say?”
    Mrs. Flett, on Cathy’s other side, said, “Dare I bring up the old debate, Mr. Bell? Dare I venture the hope that we are still striving after smaller house units with whole, not partial, Little Families? With brothers and sisters kept together?”
    Mr. Bell said unhappily, “We’ve gone into it so many times before, Mrs. Flett.”
    “And will continue to do so, I trust. It’s only by fighting for a thing like this that you get anywhere.”
    Cathy glanced expectantly toward Jerry. She was surprised that he had not jumped to his feet before this. Here was the thing nearest to his heart being discussed and all he was doing was listening rather detachedly between recovering Fayette’s dropped lace handkerchief and her long nylon glove.
    He met her glance. He met it