pillow. But Abigail caught it and drew it close. She sighed a long, contented sigh and murmured dreamily, “I can hardly wait to see him again.”
“And when do you expect that to be?” questioned Cassie, shutting her window with a loud bang.
“Next week,” replied Abigail.
“You think Mama is going to invite you for dinner every time we have guests?”
“Oh, Cassie, please. Please! You just have to get me another invitation. You are still the only girl. Remember. ‘The only girl in a room full of men and boys.’ ”
Cassie cocked her head in pretended thought. “That might not be so bad,” she observed.
“Oh, you’re not serious! You wouldn’t possibly leave me out. I mean, we have been friends—best friends—for years. You couldn’t possibly turn on me now. Could you?”
“Do you invite me to your house when your parents have young attorneys in for dinner?” asked Cassie frankly.
“We never have young attorneys—you know that. Papa said that he had to make it on his own. He sees no sense in coddling the competition. Give them a couple years and they will be fighting him in court.”
“It’s not that way with doctors,” said Cassie thoughtfully. “Doctors help one another all they can. They are not ‘competition.’ They are—are partners. The world needs all the doctors we can produce, Papa says. Good doctors. He feels very strongly about it.”
“Well, your papa and my papa see things differently,” admitted Abigail.
“Yes. Yes,” mused Cassie. “They certainly do.” And for some reason she couldn’t explain, Cassie suddenly felt a surge of pride for her papa.
“Dr. Henry P. Winston,” she said aloud. “You know, there are many people who have a good deal of respect for that name.”
Abigail looked at her as though Cassie was losing her mind. Then she shrugged her shoulders and moved toward the door.
“I have to get home. Papa said for me to call Wilbur to come and walk me. May I use the phone in the front hall?”
“Of ourse,” nodded Cassie and followed her out to walk her friend down to the entrance hall. Wilbur was Abigail’s older brother. Cassie had never been fond of the boy. He was much too arrogant and pompous to make a good friend for anyone.
“You will get me another invitation, won’t you?” Abigail pleaded as they descended the stairs together.
“I’ll see” was all that Cassie would promise.
They stopped in the hall while Abigail made her call. From the study came the sound of voices. The four men seemed to be deep in discussion.
“ … I still think research should be able to isolate the germ,” said a voice that Cassie thought to be Mr. Smith’s.
“I agree,” her father joined in. “If only we had funds and equipment and someone with the desire to see the project—”
Abigail completed her call and the two girls moved down the hall and out of earshot.
“I’ll wait outside with you until Wilbur comes,” offered Cassie.
The evening was pleasant and the minutes passed quickly. Soon Wilbur’s heavy steps announced his approach. Cassie drew back into the shadows. She was in no mood to take Wilbur’s teasing about her carrot-top, her green cat eyes, or her freckles.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered to Abigail and disappeared up the walk before Wilbur could even call after her.
Over the winter months the young men did come again. Abigail was not always invited to be Cassie’s guest, but she did come often enough to feel that she was making significant headway with the attractive Mr. Birdwell. She had even discovered that his first name was Mitchell.
“Mitchell is a nice name,” she had whispered one evening to Cassie as they had left the table and retired to her room to share newly garnered information. “Do you suppose he might be talked into using it as a last? Abigail Mitchell. That would sound just fine.”
Cassie gave her friend a withering look and wondered about Dr. Corouthers’ first name. She didn’t