"It's an order. Well, on second thought, get everybody over 150 out of the hospital on an expedition of some kind." He scribbled on a pad. "But, Dr. Farrar...." "Here's an order for cars ... and ... (writing) ... buses and field kitchens. Take them out in the country for a picnic. Come back here as soon as you can get away." He held out a paper. "A picnic! For a thousand?" "You can do it. You're the best organizer in the hospital." "Well ... I suppose so." "Excellent," concluded Dr. Farrar and rose, indicating dismissal. "Daneshaw will think of something," he repeated to himself as Warner walked out and slammed the door. R. N. Ione Phillips flounced down Corridor Five of Block Nineteen, white elaston uniform rustling with permanent and indignant starch. "Those old biddies," she muttered. "Both of them say they want lilac pattern dresses and then when they come they're mad because they have dresses just alike. They're just like children!" Miss Phillips didn't care much for children. "Won't wash for meals but spend hours taking up all the driers in the beauty salon. Bob Warner doesn't realize what we have to put up with." Her angry stalk slowed to a demure mincing as she approached the elevator and imagined Dr. Warner coming out of it. Behind the door she had just closed with apparently thoughtful gentleness, Mrs. Maeva McGaughey and Mrs. Alice Kaplan in lilac acelle were considering the meal on the table between them. "Creamed spinach, Maeva, for breakfast!" Mrs. Kaplan was withering in her distaste. "And that Miss Phillips--treats us as if we were babies," whined Mrs. McGaughey. "The way she talks you'd think she'd brought us a couple of wedding gowns. Shoddy stuff these days, too." Mrs. Kaplan looked slyly at Mrs. McGaughey. "I know how to fix her, Maeva. Let's pour this spinach down our fronts." * * * * * Ione had reached the end of the corridor and was tripping abstractedly by the desk facing the row of elevators. "Phillips," the receptionist's voice was startling and cool, "will you tell Mr. Daneshaw, Room 563, that Dr. Farrar would like to see him at once in his office." "It's my breakfast hour! I'm just going off duty." Receptionists thought they owned the hospital ordering people around all the time. "I can't leave the desk and your relief hasn't come up. Dr. Farrar says it's urgent." "Oh, all right." Ione turned on her heel and strode with something of the old swish up the hall to the left of the one she'd come from. She knocked sharply at the door of room 563. "Mr. Daneshaw?" "Come in." She turned the knob and economically stuck only her head around the frame. "Dr. Farrar wants you in his office at once." She withdrew and closed the door in one motion. Don't give them a chance to argue or ask questions. They'd waste your whole day for you if you gave them a chance. She headed for the elevators once more.