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packs, he had scrubbed hands and arms in the sink, let them dry in the air, and then gowned and gloved himself. Now, as Doc and Molly scrubbed, he set out the instruments, counted sponges, tested the suction machine and prepared sutures to be opened. As soon as Molly was ready he helped her into gown and gloves. She then took over preparation of the surgeon's tray, and Billy, with an increasing sense of ill-ease, turned his attention to preparing the ether mask and opening the anesthetic. The child, groggy and complacent from the premedication Molly had given her in the bedroom, took her place on the table under the best light in the house and submitted to the sterile drapes Molly attached around her hair and neck. Then, at Doc's signal, Billy did his best to emulate what he had seen Dr. Trautman do so many times in giving ether anesthesia, feeling clumsy in the extreme. "This little gauze cup has a funny smell, Jeannie," he said to the child. "Blow into it and try to blow the smell away. That's the way, blow harder!" The child blew, taking deep breaths of the ether as she did so. Momentarily she began to struggle but was quieted by a few words from Molly, and presently the child relaxed into slow, steady, stertorous breathing. "Reflexes, Billy,"
    Doc said sharply, watching him closely throughout. "No, no, corneal—that's right. Okay, give her a little more, two or three more whiffs. Now where's the intubation setup?"
    "I. . . don't know."
    "What do you mean, you don't know?" Doc snapped. "You get the tube ready before you even start the anesthesia. I can't do this child without intubating her."
    "Here it is," Molly said gently. "The pack was set up different from last time."
    "Well, tell that supplier of yours to get things straight, Billy, and then check them out yourself. The last thing I need at times like this is a bunch of surprises." Still grumbling, Doc double-checked the surgical tray, then checked the child again and placed the breathing tube in place. "Now then, Billy, keep her stable just like that. Molly? Let's go."
    As always, when a procedure was started, he was quick, skillful and thorough. For her part, Molly responded like any good scrub nurse, sensitive to Doc's slightest movement or gesture, moving almost instinctively to place the right instrument in his hand at the right time. The small portable suction machine that had come in the pack functioned poorly, as usual, but they made it do, using sponges wherever possible. Within fifteen minutes Doc nodded and stood back. "I think that's it," he said. "Billy, what the hell are you doing pouring on more of that stuff? You should have eased off five minutes ago when you saw me take the curette."
    "I was watching the girl," Billy said sullenly.
    "Of course you were watching the girl—but you should also be watching me. We don't want to be here all night waiting for these kids to recover." Gently, Doc took the sleeping child up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom where the mother and father were sitting with the groggy premedicated boy. Placing the girl in bed, Doc positioned her, removed the breathing tube and then waited until she was breathing steadily and beginning to stir in recovery from the anesthetic. Then, after giving the mother specific directions for nursing the recovering child, he led the boy out into the kitchen, where Billy and Molly were waiting with fresh surgical garments and drapes.
    The second case was somewhat longer and more difficult for Doc, but Billy's job seemed to go easier and he felt a surge of confidence as Doc watched him, checked the child's depth of anesthesia and then said, "Fine, now, not any lower, just touch it from time to time, and be sure to withdraw the mask at the right time." He and Molly proceeded as Billy watched child and doctor. This time, when Doc finally stepped away from the table, the patient was already stirring, and Doc gave a nod of satisfaction. "Better," he said.
    "Yes, it was almost easy that