Sidney went into the operating-room late in the spring as the result of a
conversation between the younger Wilson and the Head.

"When are you going to put my protegee into the operating-room?" asked
Wilson, meeting Miss Gregg in a corridor one bright, spring afternoon.

"That usually comes in the second year, Dr. Wilson."

He smiled down at her. "That isn't a rule, is it?"

"Not exactly. Miss Page is very young, and of course there are other girls
who have not yet had the experience. But, if you make the request--"

"I am going to have some good cases soon. I'll not make a request, of
course; but, if you see fit, it would be good training for Miss Page."

Miss Gregg went on, knowing perfectly that at his next operation Dr. Wilson
would expect Sidney Page in the operating-room. The other doctors were not
so exigent. She would have liked to have all the staff old and settled,
like Dr. O'Hara or the older Wilson. These young men came in and tore
things up.

She sighed as she went on. There were so many things to go wrong. The
butter had been bad--she must speak to the matron. The sterilizer in the
operating-room was out of order--that meant a quarrel with the chief
engineer. Requisitions were too heavy--that meant going around to the
wards and suggesting to the head nurses that lead pencils and bandages and
adhesive plaster and safety-pins cost money.