Milo Scott! "Is he all right?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Was he hurt in the accident?"

"No. He was here again early this morning, but you were asleep."

"He came to see me?"

"Yes." She looked around the room. "Most of these flowers are from him."

Unbelievable.

"Your mother and father are in the waiting room. Do you feel up to seeing them now?"

"Of course."

"I'll send them in."

Boy, I've never been treated like this in a hospital before, Ellen thought.

Her mother and father walked in and came up to the bed.

They had been born in Poland and their English was tentative.

Ellen's father was a mechanic, a burly, rough-hewn man in his fifties, and her mother was a bluff northern European peasant.

"I brought you some soup, Ellen."

"Mom—they feed people in hospitals."

"Not my soup they don't feed you in the hospital. Eat it and you'll get well faster."

Her father said, "Did you see the paper? I brung you a copy."

He handed the newspaper to her. The headline read:

FACTORY WORKER RISKS LIFE TO SAVE BOSS.

She read the story twice.

"That was a brave thing you done to save him."

Brave? It was stupid. If I had had time to think, I would have saved myself. That was the dumbest thing I ever did.

Why, I could have been killed!

Milo Scott came to see Ellen later that morning. He was carrying another bouquet of flowers.

"These are for you," he said awkwardly. "The doctor tells me you're going to be fine. I—I can't tell you how grateful I am to you."

"It was nothing."

"It was the most courageous act I've ever seen. You saved my life."

She tried to move, but it sent a sharp pain through her arm.

"Are you all right?"

"Sure." Her side was beginning to throb. "What did the doc say was wrong with me?"

"You have a broken arm and three broken ribs."

He couldn't have given her worse news. Her eyes filled with tears.

"What's the matter?"

How could she tell him? He would only laugh at her. She had been saving up for a long-awaited vacation to New York with some of the girls from the factory. It had been her dream. Now I'll be out of work for a month or more. There goes Manhattan.

Ellen had been working since she was fifteen. She had always been fiercely independent and self-sufficient, but now she thought: Maybe if he's so grateful he'll pay part of my hospital bills. But I'll be damned if I'll ask him.

She was beginning to feel drowsy. It must be the medication.

She said sleepily, "Thank you for all the flowers, Mr.

Scott. And it was nice meeting you." I'll worry about the hospital bills later.

Ellen Dudash slept.

The following morning, a tall, distinguished-looking man came into Ellen's suite.

"Good morning, Miss Dudash. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Better, thank you."

"I'm Sam Norton, chief public-relations officer for Scott

Industries."

"Oh." She had never seen him before. "Do you live here?"

"No. I flew in from Washington."

"To see me?"

"To assist you."

"To assist me in what!"

"The press is outside, Miss Dudash. Since I don't believe you've ever held a press conference, I thought perhaps you could use some help."

"What do you want?"

"Mainly, they're going to ask you to tell them about how and why you saved Mr. Scott."

"Oh. That's easy. If I had stopped to think, I'd have run like hell."

Norton stared at her. "Miss Dudash—I don't think I would say that if I were you."

"Why not? It's the truth."

This was not at all what he had expected. The girl seemed to have no idea of her situation.

There was something worrying Ellen, and she decided to get it out in the open. "Are you going to see Mr. Scott?"

"Yes."

"Would you do me a favor?"

"If I can, certainly."

"I know the accident's not his fault, and he didn't ask me to push him out of the way, but—" The strong independent streak in her made her hesitate. "Oh, never mind."

Ah, here it comes, Norton thought. How much reward was she going to try to extort? Would it be cash? A better job? What?

"Please, go on, Miss Dudash."

She blurted it out. "The truth is, I don't have a lot of money, and I'm going to lose some pay because of this, and I don't think I can afford all these hospital bills. I don't want to bother Mr. Scott, but if he could arrange a loan for me, I'd pay it back." She saw the expression on Norton's face, and misread it. "I'm sorry. I guess I sound mercenary.

It's just that I've been saving up for a trip, and—well, this screws everything up." She took a deep breath. "It's not his problem. I'll manage."

Sam Norton almost kissed her. How long has it been since

I've come across real innocence? It's, enough to restore my faith in womankind.

He sat down at the side of her bed, and his professional manner disappeared. He took her hand. "Ellen, I have a feeling you and I are going to be great friends. I promise you, you're not going to have to worry about money. But the first thing we have to do is get you through this press conference. We want you to come out of this looking good, so that—" He stopped himself. "I'm going to be honest. My job is to see that Scott Industries comes out of this looking good.

Do you understand?"

"I guess so. You mean it wouldn't sound so good if I said

I wasn't really interested in saving Milo Scott? It would sound better if I said something like, 'I like working for

Scott Industries so much that when I saw Milo Scott was in danger, I knew I had to try to save him, even at the risk of my own life'?"

"Yes."

She laughed. "Okay. If it'll help you. But I don't want to kid you, Mr. Norton. I don't know what made me do it."

He smiled. "That will be our secret. I'll let the lions in."

There were more than two dozen reporters and photographers from radio stations, newspapers, and magazines. It was a man-bites-dog story, and the press intended to make the most of it. It was not every day that a pretty young employee risked her life to save her boss's brother. And the fact that he happened to be Milo Scott did not hurt the story one bit.

"Miss Dudash—when you saw all that iron hurtling down at you, what was your first thought?"

Ellen looked over at Sam Norton with a straight face and said, "I thought, 'I must save Mr. Scott. I'd never forgive myself if I let him be killed.' "

The press conference proceeded smoothly, and when Sam

Norton saw that Ellen was beginning to tire, he said, "That's it, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you very much."

"Did I do all right?"

"You were great. Now get some sleep."

She slept fitfully. She had a dream that she was in the lobby of the Empire State Building, but the guards would not let her go up to the top because she did not have enough money to buy a ticket.

Milo Scott came to visit Ellen that afternoon. She was surprised to see him. She had heard that his home was in New

York.

"I heard the press conference went very well. You're quite a heroine."

"Mr. Scott—I have to tell you something. I'm not a heroine. I didn't stop to think about saving you. I—I just did it."

"I know. Sam Norton told me."

"Well, then—"

"Ellen, there are all kinds of heroism. You didn't think about saving me, but you did it instinctively, instead of saving yourself."

"I—I just wanted you to know."

"Sam also told me that you're worried about the hospital bills."

"Well—"

"They're all taken care of. And as for your losing some wages,"—he smiled—"Miss Dudash, I—I don't think you know how much I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything."

"The doctor told me that you'll be leaving the hospital tomorrow. Will you let me buy you dinner?"

He doesn't understand, Ellen thought. I don't want his charity. Or his pity. "I meant it when I said you don't owe me anything. Thanks for taking care of the hospital bills.