CHAPTER VIDOCTOR RICHARDS
Doctor Richards went slowly down stairs, Miss Armitage let herself in with her latch key.
“How is my little patient today?” she asked.
“Stronger in some respects. But I don’t quite like the heart action. And I’m afraid I haven’t improved it any.”
“Oh, you did not scold her—?” in a half upbraiding tone.
“No, no. But I coaxed that dream story out of her and several other things. In a year or two more those Borden babies will have her all worn out. So many of the little Cinderellas don’t get half a chance with life, the stolid ones do better. But she could hold an audience with that story, if she was not afraid of the audience,” smiling a little, “and the lovely expressions that flit over her face! She is not the usual child.”
“I’ve been a little afraid to think that. So101many of the child prodigies flatten out and make ordinary people.”
“And some of them never get the true opportunity. I’ve a boy under my observation who is going to make a first-class surgeon, and I’m persuading a man to educate him. His father is going to put him in a foundry. Think of hands fitted for the nicest surgery being coarsened by contact with rough iron and hard tools. He would lose the fine touch by hard manual labor if he worked for his education. No one knows all the children sacrificed to Moloch. But the little girl! Of course she thinks of going back. She isn’t even tugging at the chain. But I, for one, don’t believe God puts people in just the place He wants them to stay, when He must see that they can’t work out. Well—did you get the girls off?”
“Yes, and they were a delighted lot. Three only are to have their wages paid. Yet an employer told me about a week ago he had subscribed twenty-five dollars to one of these girls’ summer homes. That at four dollars a week would have paid six girl’s a week’s wages. His name goes down on the generous102list of course. Oh, I don’t wonder people like to do the things that show! The things that only God can know do not come up for credit. But it is ‘deal justly’ first of all.”
“I’d like to stay and talk—but there is a serious matter before me. Take good care of our little girl—but I needn’t chargeyou. I’ll be in again tomorrow.”
Miss Armitage went slowly upstairs, paused a few moments at her desk to jot down some items. When she went through to the next room, Marilla was asleep. The little face was framed in with rings of shining hair, the lips were palely pink and parted with a half smile, the skin still showed blue veins. With a little care, such as rich people gave their children, she might grow up pretty, she would always be sweet. And the pudgy babies with their wondering eyes loved her!
Marilla improved slowly but surely. She walked from room to room, and one day she went down stairs to luncheon. Just the small round table in the recess by the side window set out with all manner of pretty dishes and a pretty glass basket of flowers in the center. And there was Jane to wait upon them, and103she seemed so pleased to have Marilla down stairs though the little girl had held tight to the bannister, lest she should lose her balance and fall. Everything looked so cool and sweet. The pictures were of woods and lakes, or a bit of sedgy river. There were fine sheer draperies at the windows, a tall vase of flowers on the beautiful centerpiece that adorned the real dining table.
Oh, how good the delicate asparagus soup tasted. And the cold chicken, the rice and the dainty potato cake. Marilla was all smiles inside, she could feel the quiver. She had not been waited on this way since the night in fairy land. Bridget had a way of shoving things toward you or asking you to get up and help yourself. But then, Bridget had done the cooking and was tired, and Marilla was glad to wait on her.
After the dessert, they went through to the drawing room and that looked lovely to the little girl. There was a portfolio of engravings on a sort of stand, and you could sit there and turn them over without any effort. There were so many pretty children among them, and some of royal families that were to be kings and queens.104
The postman came and Jane brought in a handful of letters. Miss Armitage looked them over casually. Here was one from Bayside and she opened it.
“My dear Miss Armitage,” it began.
“I don’t know how we can thank you for taking Marilla in as you did, and by this time I hope she is about well. Mr. Borden comes up on Saturday morning to see a client and will call for Marilla at about two. We simply can’t do without her. We’ve had the most awful time! Two babies getting four teeth apiece are enough to drive one crazy. There was no trouble about the other teeth, but I think it would not have been so bad if we’d had Marilla. They have missed her and cried after her and no one could get them asleep until they were fairly worn out and then they sobbed in the most heartbreaking way. We’ve had no rest day or night. Ellen is very good and patient, but the babies simply won’t let her touch them. Marilla always knew just what to do. She was so entertaining. She certainly was born for a nurse girl, though I thought she was most too young when I took her, I’ve never let105her lift them, for they’re like a lump of lead. They have grown thinner and I do hope it will keep on, unless Marilla makes them laugh so much they fat up again. They have each cut two teeth and they had to be lanced. Sister and I have had an awful time. We shall be so glad to get Marilla back. I think Ellen will not be a success as a child’s nurse. And I can get her a first-class place as a parlor maid where she can have eighteen dollars a month, which I couldn’t afford to pay. There is a cook and a laundress kept, so she won’t lose by coming down. She is very nice, pleasant and tidy, and we had to have some one in the emergency. And poor little Marilla must have gone to a hospital but for your kindness. We are all so obliged and if Mr. Borden can be of service to you, sometime, he will be very glad. These are the favors money cannot repay.
“So if you will have Marilla ready about two o’clock on Saturday, Mr. Borden will call for her. If she needs a dress will you kindly purchase it and tell him. We have all her clothes down here. There is a beautiful big lawn with hammocks and everything, and106if she is not very strong yet she can have sea bathing which is splendid, and fine diet. And we certainly are your deeply grateful friends.
“Mrs. Mary Borden.”
Miss Armitage read the letter over twice and watched the pale little girl enjoying the pictures. It was not quite a heartless letter but, it had no special sympathy for the poor little Cinderella, if she did not have to sit in the ashes. Then she laid it by and went at the others.
“Please Miss Armitage, may I go upstairs? I am so tired. What do you suppose makes me feel tired so easily?”
“You are not strong yet. Yes, we will go upstairs and you must lie down.”
She placed her arm around the slender body. Marilla kissed the white hand.
The doctor came in the next morning, and Miss Armitage handed him the letter.
“Has the average woman any soul!” he exclaimed angrily.
“Mrs. Borden has had no means of knowing how severe the case really was––”
“See here, she might have written on—say Tuesday and inquired. Why Marilla might107have died with just a little more. She doesn’t go. She won’t be strong enough to bother with teething babies in some time yet, if at all.”
“Oh, you don’t think––”
“She has a weak heart. It may have come from the shock and there is time enough for her to outgrow it, with care. Are you going to tire of her?”
She saw there was no doubt in his face and smiled.
“Marilla’s no more trouble than a kitten. Jane is positively in love with her. I’m not sure but I shall ask to have her transferred to me.”
“Hilda Armitage you ought to be the mother of girls. I don’t know about the boys,” with a doubtful laugh.
“I’ve had two disappointments.”
“I told you that Conklin girl was not worth the trouble. She’s singing in a vaudeville show and itdoessuit her. You couldn’t get any refined ambition in that vain and silly brain. It is casting pearls before swine. Save the pearls for some one worthy.Shedoesn’t go back to the Borden’s this summer. When you get tired of her––”108
“Shall we quarrel about her?” She glanced up with an odd, humorous smile.
“Perhaps we shall in the end, but that is a good way off. When that man comes today, just let him see Marilla.”
Mr. Borden came punctually at two and was quite profuse in his thanks for Miss Armitage’s kindness.
“I regret to say that Marilla has progressed very slowly. She had quite an exhausting fever at first. She was not able to come downstairs until yesterday, and lies down several times through the day.”
“Is it possible! Why we thought—and we need her so much! Did you—” he flushed a little, “have a good physician?”
“An excellent one whose practice is mostly among children. He thought her quite worn out, but it was being overcome with the heat and she fell off the steps. It was near congestion of the brain I believe.”
“I’m awfully sorry. We were so busy just then, and my wife was worried to death. The babies had always been so good, but I can’t imagine anything being so—so dreadful as they’ve been for a week. I’ve scarcely109slept an hour at a time and Mrs. Borden is clear worn out. She thinks just the sight of Marilla would comfort them. We might go on keeping that Ellen, though the babies won’t take to her. I think Marilla charmed them; but they’re always been good until now. And there’s four more teeth to come through,” in a despairing sort of tone.
Miss Armitage had large sympathy and she felt really sorry for him. Yet how providential that Marilla had missed the care!
“You have had a very bad time, certainly, and it is fortunate that Marilla didn’t give out on your hands. Would you like to see her, though I think she is asleep.”
“Yes—oh yes. If we kept Ellen, don’t you think she might come down next week. The sea-bathing would no doubt strengthen her.”
“She has some heart weakness. I’m afraid she couldn’t stand the bathing.”
Then she rose and led the way up stairs.
Marilla was asleep. Mr. Borden studied her in surprise.
“Why, she’s grown dreadfully thin. Yes, she must have been very ill, but like the babies,110she’d always been well. I’m awful sorry. I don’t know what we shall do. Mrs. Borden had counted so on her coming. And she said over half a dozen times that I must not forget to thank you for all this kindness. You must send me the doctor’s bill. She’s such a nice child, Miss Armitage.”
Marilla stirred and opened her eyes, closed them sighed and opened them again, then half murmured—“Oh, doctor,” and started.
“Marilla, child, don’t you remember Mr. Borden?”
“I had not told her about your coming. We keep her as tranquil as possible.”
“Oh, Mr. Borden!” Marilla sat up. “And the babies?”
“The babies are in a very poor way, Marilla. They certainly are homesick for you. We try to keep them comforted with the promise of you. Oh, I hoped you would be well enough to go down with me this afternoon. Their mother will be telling them you will surely come. Poor little girl, but you are going to get well, aren’t you? And Jack thinks there’s no fun without you, and no one to read to him or tell him stories.”111
The child gave a vague smile. She was very glad to be away from Jack; indeed, sick babies did not appear attractive to her just now, but she said—
“Oh, I’m very sorry. The doctor said it was the heat and––”
“It was awfully hot that week. That made the babies worse. Oh, if I could take you down just to amuse them. You made them laugh so, Marilla. You know just how to do it. Well—it can’t be helped, but you must try to get well and have some good of the pretty country place. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Miss Armitage is so good. And Jane and the doctor. And the yard is full of flowers. I’m very happy.”
“I suppose so. Maybe you won’t want to come back. But you belong to us, you know and we can’t give you up.”
Then he turned to go.
“Will you kiss the babies for me and tell them how sorry I am, and ask Jack not to tease them, and—and—” she swallowed over a great lump in her throat—“I shall come back when I get well.”112
“That’s a good girl. Good-bye. I shall be in town next week and will come in and see you.”
He gave the little hand a clasp. Miss Armitage went down with him. Marilla turned her face over on the pillow and cried as if her heart would break. Could she go back to the babies and Jack? And Bridget wasn’t as sweet as Jane, and there was sharp Aunt Hetty––
“My dear! My dear!” said the soft voice with its infinite pity, and the sweet lips kissed hers.
“Oh, Miss Armitage, won’t God take you to heaven if you pray very hard? I should hate to leave you and the dear, nice doctor, but I’m afraid I don’t want to go back to the babies and Jack. I’m tired of them, and I feel as if it was foolish to be funny when there are so many sweet things to think of and books to read and your beautiful music. But I must go away from all that, and somehow heaven looks nicer. And when you die doesn’t an angel come and take you in his arms and just carry you up and up to the other side of the sky where everything is113peace and loveliness, and no one will torment you––”
“Oh my child, perhaps God wants you to live here a little longer and do some work for him. The doctor would be very sorry not to have you get well. Some one might say—‘He let that little girl die when he might have saved her,’ but they wouldn’t know it was because she kept brooding over it all the time and would make no effort to get well. God knows what is best for us.”
“I didn’t mind about going back. But today it seemed to be—dreadful,” with a convulsive sob.
“Then we have spoiled you. Oh, I am sorry for that.”
“Oh, dear Miss Armitage, don’t be sorry when you have been so good. But I don’t quite understand how anyone can bind you out and make you stay years if you didn’t want to.”
“But children do not know what is best for them. Some go wandering round the streets without any home and are picked up and put in a place almost like a prison where they have to work whether they like it or not. And some114even have cruel fathers and mothers. You said the Bordens were good to you. Would you rather be there or at the Home?”
“Oh, I’d rather be there than at the Home, but––” and she swallowed hard over a sob.
“If they worked you beyond reason or half starved you a complaint could be made but they all seem to love you––”
Miss Armitage smiled with a soft kind of sadness, as if she wished the truth were not quite so true, and the things that looked so delightful were not so often the thing it was best to give up for honor’s sake.
“Yes, they do love me, babies and all, and of course I must go back when I am well enough.”
Then she turned her face away and tried to keep back the tears. Jane entered at that moment and the tension was broken.
Miss Armitage read verses to her after she was in bed that evening, and kissed her good night with motherly tenderness. Then she sat for some time and thought.
Why should she have taken a fancy to this little girl? She had seen prettier children who were homeless and helped provide for them.115The Bordens were not rough or heartless. Bridget had spoken well of them. The child had a comfortable home, and she was bound in honor. It would be mean to entice her to break the bargain, to make her dissatisfied. No, she must not do that.
Miss Armitage’s life lines had run along smoothly through girlhood. Her mother was a widow and they had a comfortable income. Hilda had a good voice and sang in church, gave some music lessons. There had been a lover and a dear friend and the old tragedy had occurred, that might have been more heartbreaking if her mother had not been taken ill. For days her recovery was doubtful. Then an uncle at Los Angeles besought her to come out to that genial clime and spend her remaining days with him, for now he was quite alone.
Hilda made all preparations. Such of the furniture as had intrinsic value was to be stored with a friend, the rest sold. And then Mrs. Armitage had an unlooked for relapse and Hilda went out alone.
Her uncle was a kindly man past middle life and he took an instant fancy to Hilda.116The house and its surroundings were loveliness itself. Life here would be really enchanting. It was such a beautiful world.
“But you have not seen half of it yet. Hilda, what would you say to going abroad? I’ve wanted to half my life. But my wife, as you have heard, was an invalid and not inclined to travel. We lost our two children. I’m not too old to start out now and view some things with the eyes of an enthusiastic young girl.”
So abroad they went. She had seven years of the richness of the old world, learning languages, listening to music that stirred every pulse of her soul, haunting art galleries with loving companionship that somehow saw the best and most beautiful in everything if it was not always high art.
And then she returned alone. It seemed more of a loss than the death of her mother. She remained awhile in California settling up some business and then the longing seized her to return to the home of her youth, to have a real home where she could make the center she was still dreaming of, surround herself with friends and do something worth while with her money.117
Newton had changed as well, enlarged its boundaries and made itself beautiful at the northern end. The shops and factories were kept down by the railroad center where two important lines crossed, and the river was navigable. Then Main Street was devoted to really fine stores, Brandon to offices and men’s businesses, the Postoffice being there. A handsome library building adorned Broadway, there were Orphan Homes, an Old Ladies’ Home, a Social Settlement.
Miss Armitage liked the aspect of it. Boarding at a hotel for awhile she looked about and decided on Loraine place. The houses stood in a row, but they had a pretty court yard in front, and a real stretch of ground at the back for grass and flowers and two fine fruit trees.
Of course old friends sought her out. Perhaps the fortune helped. The young girls of her time were matrons with growing children. How odd it seemed! She thought sometimes that she felt reprehensibly young, as if she was having girlhood over again in her heart, but it was a richer, wiser and more fervent girlhood, with the added experiences of the woman.118
There were many things for her to take an interest in but they finally settled around the babies and little children’s hospital, and the Settlement House. In a way, she was fond of the sweet, helpless babies who seemed so very dependent on human kindness. If there was one of her own flesh and blood it would take possession of her very soul, all her thoughts, all her affection. But it should have been hers earlier in life. Now she wanted companionship. She could not wait for it to develop and then find unpleasant traits that had come from alien blood. No, she could not adopt a baby and wait a dozen years to know whether it would satisfy or not.
She had helped two or three girls to better things. One through the last two years of High School and who was now teaching. And there had been one with a charming voice and an attractive face who had been injured in a mill and who would never have perfect use of her right hand. If she could be trained for a singer!
She and Doctor Richards came to words about her. He said plainly she would not be worth the money spent upon her. But119Miss Armitage insisted on spending it a year when the girl threw up her friend and joined a concert troupe, slipping presently into vaudeville where shewasa success.
And out of the dispute came a proffer of love and marriage. Alvah Richards had begun life at the opposite pole from Miss Armitage. There had been a fortune, a love for the study of medicine, a degree in Vienna and one at Paris. Then most of the fortune had been swept away. He returned to America and some way drifted to Newton. They were just starting the hospital and he found plenty to do. He could live frugally. To help his still poorer fellow creatures in suffering, to restore them to strength and teach them to be useful members of society, or to comfort them and make the path easier over the river to the other country; this was his highest aim.
Miss Armitage was almost dumb with surprise. She raised her hand in entreaty.
“Oh, don’t! don’t,” she cried. “It is quite impossible; it cannot be. I like you very much, but I am not in love. And then––”
“Then what?” with eager eyes and incisive voice.120
“You had a birthday last week. I heard you telling it. You are thirty-one.”
“Well—” There was a proud smile on his manly face.
“And when my birthday comes, I shall be thirty-six. When you are sixty, rich in experience, famous, a real man among men, I shall be quite an old woman. No, I shouldn’t do it for your sake.”
“As if a few years made any difference! Why you could discount seven years at least. Have you been loved so much that you can throw away a man’s honest, honorable, tender love that will last all his life, that wear it as you like, in any stress, you can never wear out.”
“Oh,” she cried. “You have spoiled a splendid friendship. I liked you so much, I have no love to give in return.”
“Then let us be friends again. I would rather have you for a friend than any other woman for a wife. I simply will not give you up.”
So the pendulum went on swinging evenly between the two points, when Cinderella entered both lives.121
And now it was Sunday morning and the chimes were pealing—“Oh, come all ye faithful.” Marilla listened with a throb of joy, though she did not know the words they were saying in sweetest melody. Miss Armitage came and stood by the cot with a cordial good morning.
Marilla stretched out her hand and glanced up with an entreating sort of smile.
“Was I very bad last night?” she asked in a wistful tone.
“Bad? Why—what was it?”
“I’ve been thinking it over. Oh, I didn’t want to go back to Mrs. Borden. It is so lovely and quiet and beautiful here. But itisright. I am her bound-out girl, and Iwasglad to go there. You wouldn’t like me to be always looking for what was nice and pleasant and shirking other things, would you?”
“Dear.” She stooped and kissed her. She had been going over some arguments fitted for a child’s understanding, and she was afraid of a rather painful time. And the worst to her was the fact that she had come to love the child and really desired her.
“The babies, you know, are so fond of me,122and they are all very good. So I wouldn’t have any reason for not staying with them. And it will be only five years more, then I shall be eighteen. And I thought—” flushing daintily, “that maybe Jane might marry, and you would want some one in her place and if it was—me,” rather tremulously—“I could come—I love you so. I’d be your Cinderella always. And when I go back it will be like the King’s ball—I shall keep thinking how lovely it was for you to bring me here instead of sending me to a hospital, and it will comfort me just as the music did.”
Miss Armitage bent over and kissed her but there were tears in her eyes. She was touched with the child’s reasoning that was so like heroism.
“Yes, dear,” she said. “We will think of it that way. And if you should be ill at any time, I will have you brought here, and you shall stop when you take the babies out and let me see them, and rest a little.”
“Oh that will be just lovely. You are so good,” and she kissed the white hand lying on her shoulder.
Then Jane came in and she had her bath.123How delightful it was to be rubbed so carefully, to have her curly mop brushed.
“I ought to dress myself now. Why I’m not sick at all only I get tired easily, but I am stronger every day.”
The breakfast was so nice. And to be waited upon! Marilla gave an inward laugh of delight.
And while Miss Armitage was at church, Dr. Richards came and bundled her up, carried her downstairs and deposited her in the buggy. He was very merry, somehow. He was going out in the country and, oh, how beautiful everything was! There had been a shower in the night and the air was full of fragrance from the grass, the pines and cedars, the orchards, wild flowers, and newly cut hay, that had not all been gathered in. Children ran about or swung in hammocks. Hens were fairly shouting with no regard for Sunday. Birds were caroling all sorts of joyous tunes and the tree twigs were gaily dancing. And here and there such beautiful drifts went over the sky, ships, she called them. They were going to fairy land—something that was not quite heaven, but a lovely place124for all that. There must be so many lovely places in this great world! Over the ocean where Miss Armitage had been, and she recalled the castles and palaces and beautiful woods, and peasants dancing on the green and laughing; that she had seen in the portfolio of engravings. And the legends she had listened to! Oh, if she could go to school and learn ever so many thingsnow, for when she was eighteen she would be too old, and a kind of perplexity settled in her smooth forehead.
CHAPTER VIIA DAY TO BE REMEMBERED
Dr. Richards had been studying the changes in the child’s face. It was like reading a book, but it had many variations. Her thoughts must have traveled far and wide. What were they?
“Are you very happy?” he asked.
“Happy?” she echoed, wonderingly. “Why it is a beautiful Sunday. One ought to be happy—here with you and watching all these lovely things.”
“Are Sundays happier than any other days?”
“Well—” slowly. “They ought to be. It seems as if it was the day of the Sun, and that’s always glad and merry.”
“But when it rains or is cloudy?”
“Oh, youknowit is there, and maybe He is fighting away the clouds. And He draws up the water. I read that in a book—and when He gets enough He lets it fall down as He126did last night and that makes the world so fresh and sweet. And there are fifty-two Sundays when you ought not––”
“What?” watching the shadow in her eyes.
“Well, I think you ought not work very much. I suppose some people have to when you have meals to get and babies to see to. I go to Sunday school with Jack and I like it so much. I’ve learned ever so many of the songs. But the lessons puzzle me. They are about God—we had them in the Home, you know, and God seems so big and strange. Do you know all about him.”
“No, child, and no one, not even ministers can know all, so you need not worry about that. God has the whole world in His keeping. Don’t you like the week days?”
“Well, they don’t seem to have the same joy in them, only at Miss Armitage’s every day seems like Sunday. But I keep counting them. You see, I’ll be thirteen in September. Then when we’ve had fifty-two Sundays I’ll be fourteen and so on, until I am eighteen.”
“And then?” in a sweet kind of tone.
“Why I won’t be bound-out any more. It’s right for me to stay,shesaid so, but it would127seem such a long while if I was just counting the years. And Sunday comes so quick, most times, and then you can be glad.”
What a touch of philosophy for a child!
“But—they are good to you at Bordens?”
“Oh, yes. IloveBridget, though I was afraid of her at first. But the grown people have each other and since I don’t really belong to them—oh, I can’t explain it,” and the knot came back to her brow. “You see when you’re bound-out and going away for a while they can’t feel the same to you. They’re never real cross and they don’t whip you as they did at the Home, and you have nicer things to eat. Sometimes when you were awful hungry you didn’t seem to get enough. You wanted one more piece of bread, but you couldn’t have it. Oh, I like it so much better at Mrs. Borden’s Only Jack—Are boys always bad?”
“I guess they are for the most part,” laughing.
“But he will go to school again. And his father says he will outgrow it. His father truly does want him to be good, and he said I must tell when he pinched me or kicked me,128and he would punish him. But I don’t like to, always, for he denies it, and his mother isn’t pleased when I do. You can feel when people do not like you to tell things. At the Home when you told tales they whipped the child that was bad, and then they whipped you for telling tales. It didn’t seem as if that was quite fair, so I tried never to tell on anyone.”
“Generally speaking, it is a bad habit,” he commented, gravely.
Then they had reached their destination. A poor old paralyzed man sat in a wheeling chair on the porch. Medical skill could not do much for him, but friendship and interest made pleasant times to remember when the hours were long and weary. Dr. Richards had brought some illustrated magazines, and they talked over the happenings of the week.
A sweet-faced, rather elderly lady brought Marilla a rocking chair, and asked her if she was the doctor’s patient. Then she offered her a piece of cake and a lovely pear, and afterward took her down to see the flower garden that was fairly rioting in beauty, and a flock of snowy white chickens, as well as some fine129pigeons that circled around like swallows. She was the wife, and there was a daughter who had gone to church. She talked of Dr. Richards, how good and comforting he was to “father.” Marilla thought he must be good to everybody.
“I’ve had a lovely time with you,” the child said. Then she shook hands with “father,” who said—
“I s’pose you’re the doctor’s little girl?” His mind was not always clear on some points. “Come again, won’t you?”
She smiled and nodded. “The doctor’s little girl,” how sweet it sounded! But of course that could not be.
They had a delightful ride home though it was growing warmer. How beautiful her eyes were today—a sort of gray-violet, and the bronze lashes almost curled. And as he listened to her soft, flowing voice, he kept thinking—if he was to marry some one and have a little girl full of quaint ideas as this one was! But it would take a long, long while, and he sighed.
Miss Armitage was sitting by the parlor window when they returned, and she came to the door to meet them.130
“I ran away with your little invalid,” the doctor exclaimed. “Haven’t I brought her back improved?”
Her cheeks were positively rosy and were rounded out by the exquisite shading. She clasped her small arms around Miss Armitage.
“And I’ve had the most splendid time! A real Sunday. We’ve been out in the beautiful country where birds were singing hymns and I’m just full of happiness.”
They had kept their pact, these two people; they could not have worked together otherwise, and each one was following the same path, for the good of the poor of this world.
“I am very glad––”
“Then you are not going to scold me?” with a questioning smile. “I promised her a drive you know, and today was rather a holiday to me.”
“Why, she doesn’t scold,” cried Marilla in a sort of joyful contradiction.
“Won’t you come in and have some dinner with us?”
“Pete would grumble if he stood here an hour. Now, if you would change it to supper—and a cup of tea––”131
“Let be a cup of tea, then. I want to talk over some plans.”
“Very well. Expect me on the mark. Six, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” with a smile.
“Oh, I’m just delighted,” and Marilla squeezed his hand.
“So you had a lovely time. Where did you go?”
“Oh—through the park and then out on such a beautiful road. Things seem nicer on Sunday, because there isn’t so much noise. And there was an old man who has to get about in a chair with little wheels, and can’t walk any more. And the lady gave me some cake and such a luscious pear, and asked me to come again. I just wished that there was some little girl from the Home living there.”
Marilla had her face and hands washed, and a fresh white frock put on. She was so bright and chatty and really charming. But after dinner she lay in the Morris chair and Miss Armitage read her to sleep. It seemed as if she had improved so much in the twenty-four hours.
They had such a genial and charming132supper, and Miss Armitage played on the organ afterward and then talked about the girls who were going to the Rest House next week. Five of them were very much worn out. They would need to stay a full fortnight.
“And I think one of them needs some medical attention. Come to the Settlement and see her before she starts. And you know I am booked for that Canadian journey with the Winslows. I am almost sorry I promised. Do you think it would be safe to let the child go to the Bordens on Saturday?”
“You won’t let her go back! She is worth something better than baby tending.”
“You shouldn’t have cured her up so soon! I don’t exactly see my way clear or I should keep her for good and all. I like her very much. You may laugh at me about my swans being ordinary geese—but we must admit the Bordens have the right to her at present. And I do not want to make bad friends with them, seeing that in law he may exact the pound of flesh. They may tire of her or she may not be able to stand the babies and Jack. I could leave her here with Jane or send her to the Home. But she is very133much resigned to the return. She has a curious bit of conscience about it. So it is best to let her try again.”
“I can’t bear the thought of it.” He uttered it with vehemence.
“I don’t like it much myself. But it seems the only way at present. Bridget will look out for her. We can’t accuse them of any cruelty or neglect.”
“And she fairly worships you—fairy godmother.”
“I wish I were. I should change the lot of more than one Cinderella. Well—we will wait and see.”
Marilla came in with a bunch of flowers.
“Jane said I might pick them for the doctor, and the ride was so nice. I shall put it in among the splendid things of my life—like the dream, and coming here—and when I get settled in bed and all is dark I can make a real fairy land out of it.”
He took her flowers and kissed her, and said “Good-night” to them in a low tone. But he went home racking his brains to see if something could not be done toward keeping her.134
Bridget came around one afternoon and was enthusiastic over her improvement.
“They’re doing pretty well and I believe the twins are not to get any more teeth in a year or two. And the boss says they’ve thinned out astonishing, and they can talk a good bit. And that girl’s going to the other place and they say you just must come down. But not a foot should you stir if you wasn’t real well. An’ its glad enough I am to have himself at breakfast at the morn and dinner at night. It’s like living again, but I don’t want to see any more twins.”
Marilla laughed. “Yes, I feel all well only sometimes I have a little catch in my breath; and I’ll be ready to go on Saturday.”
“An’ I’ll just be praying to the saints to send you back safe and sound. I don’t see why people should be kitin’ off to strange places, when they’ve a good, comfortable house to stay in. But the saints be praised for the rest with that imp of a Jack being away! They do be grown up after awhile an’ I s’pose you couldn’t have men if there were no boy babies.”
Then Mr. Borden called late one afternoon135and brought a note from his wife. Ellen had to leave on Saturday or lose the nice place, and the babies were well now, walking all round and beginning to say cunning words. Pansy called “Illa, Illa,” and then looked around for Marilla to come, and said—“Papa bing Illa.” They wanted her so much. All their meals were taken over in the next cottage, and the laundress came twice a week for the washings. The children were out of doors most of the time, and they were on the ground floor, so there was no going up and down stairs. Marilla would have it very easy and they would take the best of care of her.
Mr. Borden was both kind and gentlemanly. He hoped there would be some way in which they could repay Miss Armitage for all her care. Would she accept a contribution for the Babies’ Hospital, he had heard she was interested in, or any other charity?
It was very nice of him, Miss Armitage thought, and she chose the hospital. Marilla had been out walking with Jane and when she came in Mr. Borden was so cordial that it won the child’s heart, and she was the more136willing to go because she should lose her dear Miss Armitage for a month.
“And afterward, you must come and see me and we will have nice times together, and I may teach you a little music—you learn so easily. Oh, I count on seeing a good deal of you.”
The parting was not as bitter as Miss Armitage had feared, partly because Mr. Borden was there and in such good spirits, and Marilla was thinking that the month would soon pass and that in any event she could not see her dear fairy godmother in that time.
The journey interested her very much. She had never taken so long a ride in the cars. Mr. Borden bought her a box of marshmallows and he had some illustrated papers. And there at the station was Miss Florence who gave her a cordial welcome, and the big surrey drove them and three other passengers to their destination. Mrs. Borden ran down the path to meet them.
“I’ve been on pins and needles lest something should happen,” she began. “Why, Marilla, you don’t look as if you had ever been ill!137And we’re so glad to get you back. Oh, you don’t know what an awful time I had, and at first the babies wouldn’t let Ellen touch them. Flo or I had to feed them. I’m clear worn out now, but I do hope the babies haven’t forgotten you, for I want a little rest. It seemed too bad that you should have given out just then. And I do believe you’ve grown taller. Why, you are quite a big girl.”
The twins sat on a blanket on the grassy space at the side of the house. Mrs. Borden led the girl out to them with a glad sound in her voice.
“Here’s your dear Illa come,” she said. “Dear Illa that you’ve wanted so much.”
Pansy looked up. Marilla gave one spring and knelt down beside them. It was nice to be longed for, to be remembered. She had really loved them. Her heart was always reaching out for something to love.
“Illa, Illa,” almost shouted Pansy and went down head first in Marilla’s lap.
“Oh, you darling!”
“I’m glad you didn’t get weaned away, Marilla. I was afraid you would, having such a fuss made over you. Mr. Borden said138the house was fine. That Miss Armitage must be rich. Well—she was very good to you and did the best she could for us. But that Ellen didn’t like children, that was the long and the short of it, and she has just the place for her, and eighteen dollars a month. Yes, Violet, this is our own Marilla come back to us, and we shall never let her go away again.”
Violet had looked rather wary and been chewing on the end of her thumb, but now she nodded and began to hitch toward Marilla.
“Now we’re going over to the cottage to dinner. It’s such a pleasure to go together. I always take Jack. He has nice table manners if he isn’t an angel otherwise. Oh, there he is! Jack, here’s Marilla!”
Jack gave a sort of wild howl of delight and started on a run with outstretched arms. Over went Marilla and Pansy and Jack on the top of the heap. Pansy gave a smothered scream.
Mrs. Borden caught Jack by the shoulder and dragged him up. “You bad, bad boy!” she exclaimed, angrily.
“Hello! what’s the row?” asked Mr. Borden, advancing to the fray.139
Jack rubbed his eyes to make some tears.
“Well, you said you was glad to see her an’ so was I. An’ I was jest gone’ to hug her an’ the bug fell over, an’ I couldn’t help it.”
Mr. Borden laughed. Mrs. Borden picked up Pansy and comforted her. But she did howl as if she had been half killed.
“Jack, go to Aunt Florence and be made ready for dinner,” in a commanding tone. “Oh dear, it does seem––”
“Well things will go better now,” said Mr. Borden soothingly. “Marilla, you are going to be the salvation of the household. Did the twins really know her?”
“Pansy did, I think Pansy’s really smarter that Violet, I do hope we’ll have a little comfort now. There Pansy, dear, go to your sweet Marilla,” and she stood the child down. “We must hurry or we will be late for dinner.”
Marilla saw the four go over to the cottage, as it was called. She had been tired out with the railroad journey, entertaining as it was, then the excitement of meeting them all again, the bump on her forehead when she had come down so hard on Pansy’s head,140and the screams that seemed like a stab going from temple to temple tired her inexpressibly. Then, too, she was hungry. Oh, if she could have a glass of hot milk such as Jane used to bring her! She really could not help crying a little. Both babies stood up by her. Violet pounding on one shoulder, Pansy making a grab at her hair that seemed to pull it out by the roots.
“Pitty, pitty!” she said gleefully.
“Oh, Pansy dear, you hurt.” She disentangled the one hand, but the other made the same clutch and was more difficult to manage. Then she rose to her knees that her head might be out of reach. Violet came down heavily and began to cry. Poor Marilla hardly knew what to do.
The babies were much thinner and their faces not so pudgy, but Marilla thought they still resembled the Campbell soup little girl and laughed in spite of her own hurts. Then Violet spied a green apple and made a bee line for it.
“She can’t bite it,” thought Marilla, and as it kept rolling it amused the baby. Then Pansy crept toward it and there was a rather141funny time. Violet slapped her twin in the face and there was another howl and Marilla went to the rescue. Oh, what should she do? Everything was so strange!
“Bed’y mik, bed’y mik,” demanded Pansy, “Bed’y milk.”
“Let us go and find some,” and she raised the baby to her feet, taking her by the hand. They walked up on the porch, and she placed her in the carriage while she glanced at Violet. Not a moment too soon—the little sharp teeth were making inroads on the apple. She ran and snatched it, throwing it out of sight. There was another howl. Mrs. Borden came hurrying down.
“What is the matter?” rather crossly.
“Violet found an apple and bit in it; I threw it away.”
“Oh, that was right Marilla,” in a mollified tone. “Where’s Pansy?”
“On the porch, in the carriage. I think she’s hungry. It sounded as if she meant bread and milk.”
“Yes. They have that for their supper. I guess I can start it. I used to feed them142first. Let me see. I guess I can show you—you’re so handy unless they’ve spoiled you.”
She had Violet in her arms and said—“Bring in Pansy,” leading the way to a room that seemed a general storage place. She lighted the little pyro stove, opened a closet and took out a saucepan, a bottle of milk, a sugar dish and some spoons.
“Now as soon as it gets warm, you fix it—you cannot have forgotten how, and then turn this screw and put the light out. For heaven’s sake don’t set anything afire! Oh, there’s no place like your own home. I haven’t had an hour’s comfort since I came down here. And my dinner’s getting cold. Nice baked veal it was, with dressing. There babies, Marilla will give you some nice bread and milk.”
She ran off. The babies whined a little and then watched the proceedings. The stove stood up on a table and she poured out part of the milk. Then she gave the babies a crust of bread to stop their clamoring while she crumbed up some in the saucepan and kept stirring it so that it shouldn’t scorch, taking out part, presently. Pansy climbed143up by a chair and began to call “Bed’y mik, bed’y mik.”
Marilla put on her bib and began to feed her. Then Violet joined with her starvation cry. First it was one open pink mouth then the other. The viands disappeared as if by magic. She meant to have a little for herself—she was so weak and gone in the stomach, but she found she must make some more, even, for the babies. So she crumbed up the remainder of the loaf. How theydideat! She was very tired of ladling it in each little mouth.
She had a very little left for herself, but it seemed to help the desperately tired feeling. She had put the stove out without any mishap. Pansy began to cry—“Wock, wock.”
“What is it dear? Was it anything more to eat?” She glanced through the closet.
“Wock, wock,” hanging to her skirt.
“Me wock,” joined in the chorus that might be Chinese.
Oh, would they never come! She took the babies out on the porch. There was a big rocker. Pansy ran to it and patted it, rolling up her eyes.144
“Oh, yes, Rock. I might have guessed, but my head feels so tired and queer.” Then she took the cushions and blankets out of the carriage and lifted up Violet, settling her in one side. But Pansy would have none of it. She squirmed down on the floor and began to cry.
“Oh, I don’t know what you want!” Marilla almost fell into the chair and jogged it gently. Violet was going to sleep. Poor Cinderella wiped the tears that would have run down her cheeks. She was so tired. Even the babies crying did not move her. But when she heard the voices she sprang up.
“Oh, what is the matter?” asked Mrs. Borden.
“They wanted to be rocked,” explained Marilla, “and I put them both in the chair, but Pansy wouldn’t stay––”
“We have spoiled them. Ellen used to sit in the chair and hold them both. That seemed about the only thing she could do that would please them. And I’ve held one in the right and Aunt Florence the other until my back ached and I was fit to fall to pieces. We’ve had the most awful time, Flo and I. But I145remember I had a dreadful time cutting my wisdom teeth, and I was grown. I used to walk the floor at night, they would swell up so. We can’t blame the poor babies. And they missed you so. They used to be so good, wasn’t they M’rilla; and I suppose they’ll be good again. They must be undressed and put to bed. Flo, you look after Violet, and M’rilla you run over and get some dinner. You must be most starved.”
Mrs. Borden had picked up Pansy who had now turned to her comforting thumb.
“Oh, run over. You needn’t be afraid. Ellen liked the girls first rate. Here, Mr. Borden will escort you.”
“I expect you’re tired out and homesick,” he said sympathetically. “But we will have things better tomorrow. And we are all so glad to have you—this way. Here, Katie, give this little girl a good dinner. She deserves the best you have.”
They were clearing the dining room. One long table was piled up with the used dishes. At the other, covered with rather worn enameled cloth, sat two women and one young man. Kate made a place for the child and146brought her a plate with most everything piled on it. Bridget, at home, was so much neater, but then she didn’t have so many hungry people to feed. And Jane with her dainty ways!
Oh, she was just a little bound-out nurse girl. She had danced and feasted with the prince; she had been in the palace with the fairy godmother where she was waited on as if she were a little lady. And there had been the Sunday ride with Dr. Richards. Was italldreams?
She could not eat. The food was mostly cold. There was a big lump in her throat and a heaviness in her heart. How long and dreary the five years looked!
“I’m not hungry,” and she pushed the plate away.
“But you’ll have some pudding and some cream. I told you, Maggie, they’d stuff theirselves on that there puddin’! You can beat the band on that.”
“I’ll just have the cream,” the little girl said, timidly.
“Well you won’t last long to take care of them there babies if you can’t eat better’n147that!” said Katie. “I never see such squabs in my life!”
“Oh, Katie, that won’t do. They’re ‘Kate Greenaway’ children. Was she some one who fatted up young ones? Well, she’d better let ’em alone to my thinkin’. And their great round eyes! And the crossest things I ever did see! Mrs. Munson thought she’d have to give up t’ other side of the house.”
“Be careful,” cautioned Maggie, with a slight turn of the head.
Marilla ate her cream, and it really tasted good. Then she rose and said good-night in a quiet fashion.
“Katie, you must remember about little pitchers,” cautioned some one.
“Well—that’s a nice little girl and I don’t believe she’d carry tales. Ellen said she wouldn’t take care of those babies for ten dollars a week. And what’s this child ever going to do––”
“Mr. Borden is a nice kind of a man and when he’s around that Jack behaves like a little gentleman, and the ladies do very well; they’re pleasant and don’t put on airs. But what they’ll do with those twins––”148
“Well, they won’t always be getting teeth. It’s a hard time with babies.”
And so they gossiped while they washed dishes and set the kitchen in order for morning. If they had ever been Cinderella they had forgotten about it.