2.

   Miss Riley, the school nurse, a tall, slim woman with a jaundiced view of the world, ran her small clinic like an operating theatre. A kid with a cut finger had to lie down on the surgical bed Miss Riley had gotten donated to the school, and departed with a bandage that could have been suitable for an amputation. Marian, her volunteer assistant for three years, became her devotee, visiting Miss Riley's small apartment which featured a standup skeleton, charts of the human body, and a large, framed photo of Florence Nightingale.

When Miss Riley took part-time afternoon jobs at the local hospital on weekends, Marian volunteered there as well. She swiped a hospital smock and slept in it. Turkish coffee was one of Miss Riley's favorites, and while she and Marian sipped, Miss Riley shared her views. "It took us over a hundred years to get the vote," Miss Riley said through clamped teeth, her bitterness concealed by her hospital-whispering Irish voice. "There are no women scientists. Wipe the kids, wash the dishes, cook the meals, clean the house, and kiss the boys goodnight. Not me. The guy I want hasn't been born yet." This devastating revelation shook Marian since both Douglas Fairbanks, her screen hero, and Richard Dix, another one, seemed like perfectly desirable men.

   "Who's that?" Marian asked, nodding at a picture of a young soldier with an easy smile and lively eyes.
   "My brother. He was killed in the war. At the Marne. I begged him not to enlist."
   "But you were there yourself," Marian said.
   "You go where you're needed. I'm a nurse."
   "That's what I'm going to be. I've made up my mind."
   "Don't say I didn't warn you."
   "I'll never say that," Marian promised, aware that the maneuvering necessary before she could announce her decision would be complicated. Having reached graduation she could no longer delay. She brought it to her father's attention through her mother's intercession. She had never seen her mother defy him, but that was not what she expected her to do. Only to arrange it.
   "I don't think he'll like it," her mother said, nervously. "He thinks you should be a kindergarten teacher. You remind him of his kindergarten teacher."
   "That's crazy, mama."
   "Well, you know, in some ways he's a very strange man. He never forgets anything. He never forgot how you broke a test tube in your hand in school."
   "Miss Riley said she'd be glad to speak to him."
   "I wouldn't mention Miss Riley to him. A woman her age and not married. He's convinced there must be something wrong with her."

When she found the opportunity, Hedda Decker spoke to her husband. "What I wanted to tell you," she said after some introductory remarks, "was that Marian wants to become a nurse."
   "Over my dead body," he said.

   That evening Decker sat in the lamp-lit living room, rarely used except for guests, on behalf of the new oriental carpet, listening behind closed doors to the appeal of his daughter.

   "You know," he said after she had spoken, "I have no favorite children. I want the best for everybody. You think you're a grownup person because you're almost eighteen, but the fact is, you are such a youngster yet and have a lot to learn. You go to school. You see something or someone that makes you excited. Oh, you think, isn't that wonderful, isn't that, how they call it, the cat's meow? Oh, if only I could do that, how happy I would be. If I could only be an actress, or a bathing beauty, or a... a tight-rope walker!"
   "But I don't want to be a tight-rope walker, papa! Nursing is a noble profession. Did you ever hear of Florence Nightingale?"
   "Who? What is she, a bird?"
   "She was the most famous nurse in the world."
   "She probably had a lot of money in back of her. And I'll bet no man ever married her. And do you realize the number of people who come to the hospital with different diseases? Do you remember when you had chicken pox? You had the worst case of chicken pox in the entire family. I felt so sorry for you. I went right out and bought you that expensive doll. Is that what you want, another chicken pox? Listen to me, Marian, you're a beautiful girl. You'll find a husband, you'll get married, you'll have a home, children, a car... How many nurses can afford a car, hmm?"
   "I don't want a car, papa. I want my life. And I still have the doll."
   "You don't want a husband, either?"
   "I'm young. I want to try things. I love chemistry. It's like magic. I love nursing. I can earn a good living..."
   "I never knew you were the type of girl who had crazy ideas in her head. I'm not going to let you run away with yourself. I will not let you go around carrying sick people's pots for the rest of your life. That's finished. Now we'll talk about something else. Mama told me you needed a new coat. Is that right? What kind of coat did you have in mind?"
   "If it's the money, papa, take what you would spend on a coat and I'll add it to my savings. My baby-sitting money alone..."
   Decker sprang up angrily. "It's a dirty job filled with diseases! I don't want to hear another word. We'll decide over the summer what you should do, and that's it." He left the room.

   Shaken, Marian spent the next few weeks sometimes in tears, sometimes in bitter thoughts about her father, and sometimes in consultation with Miss Riley. Miss Riley listened sympathetically, if a bit uptight.

   "Your father's a man. All your life you're going to have to deal with men. You better get used to it. Of course, some men are better than others, but very few." Miss Riley lit a cigarette. She is certainly a daring woman, Marian concluded, and determined to do whatever Miss Riley suggested. "You have to make up your mind whose career plans you are going to let control your life, yours or your father's." She provided a list of nursing schools around the country. "Show it to him, show him how many women are choosing it for a profession. It's an accredited college."
   "He wants my brother to go to college, not me."

   The evening Marian chose for her second talk with her father was the day he had had another confrontation with his partner. To Decker the factory was the cumulation of everything he had put his heart into, his creation, his baby. He saw Osterman, his slovenly partner, as a come-lately with no pride in anything, even in the way he dressed. Decker never left the house with unshined shoes or a stained tie. Osterman, he noticed, didn't own a tie without a stain. After rehearsing once more the accountant's warning that they must pull in their horns and cut expenses to the bone, their salaries in particular, he had asked Osterman to come up with an idea, Osterman said, ³Hire an arsonist. They're all doing it. Burn part of the factory down, collect the insurance, and re-finance. That's my suggestion." Decker stared at him for a full minute, slowly rose, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

   On the subway ride home the words in the evening paper eluded him, his anger grinding the image of Osterman to bits. When he entered the house Hedda was relaxing on the front porch. From the parlor came the sound of someone practicing "Flight of The Bumble Bee" on the piano, its agitated music accompanying him upstairs. As he removed his jacket and tie and changed into a pair of slippers Hedda came in to the bedroom. He appeared pale.
   "Emil? What's the matter?"
   He sat on the bed his head in his hands, his lips tight into his mouth, repressing his emotion. "Your whole life can go down the drain," he said, "because of one lousy bastard." She knew who he meant.
   "Emil," she said. "You knew what he was all the time."
   "I'll borrow the money. I'll buy him out, that bastard!" he cried.

   At dinner three members of the family were absent. Only Judith, the youngest of the girls, was at the table with them. Edith, the eldest, was taking a Business English course. Decker had mockingly asked her if Business English was a different language. Marian was visiting a handicapped friend, and Joshua attended the Boy Scouts where he was preparing for a merit badge in cooking. "That's exactly what I need now, a son with an apron," Decker commented on learning of this. When Marian came home, Decker was finishing a telephone call to his lawyer about how to get rid of his partner.

   In the parlor he sank into the club chair with a heavy sigh, yawned, and stared at her.
   "Papa," she said, "did you think any more about the talk we had? There is nothing in the world I want to do more than work in the medical profession. I know what respect you have for Dr. Cutler..."
   "Women don't become doctors..."
   "Some do."
   "I don't know a man in this world who would go see a woman doctor," he said, his arms folded across his chest.
   "Women would. And nurses are just as important. Sometimes more important. Without them they couldn't run the hospitals..."
   He stood up. "I will not have a daughter of mine become a shit-pot carrier, and that's the end of it!"
   Then he left the room clenching his fists and went upstairs to bed.