THAT Pattie should be counted able to nurse Dot, when she—Mrs. Cragg— was not able, aroused Mrs. Cragg's jealous temper to an unpleasant extent. She knew herself to be incapable, and she would not have undertaken the nursing, had she been asked to do so. But now that she had not been asked, now that she had been ousted in favour of another, she regarded herself as a deeply injured individual; and she was angry with Pattie.
This made Pattie's work harder than it would otherwise have been. She did not see much of Mrs. Cragg, for almost her whole time, from morning till evening, was spent with Dot; and when not engaged in the sick-room she was usually, by the doctor's orders, either walking or resting. Still, encounters were inevitable; and if anything were wanted, if any doubt or question arose, Mrs. Cragg immediately sided against Pattie. Even the thought of what might be good for Dot could not make headway against her temper.
Happily for Pattie, the new nurse was a sensible kind-hearted woman; and an appeal to her would always settle matters as might be desirable for the child. But Pattie could not rouse her unnecessarily from well-earned sleep, and that was the time when difficulties occurred.
Cragg was very unhappy during these days of suspense. Dot was his darling, his treasure, the light of his home; and the thought of losing her was terrible to him.
He blamed himself sorely for the accident, because he had sent Dot out of the room without taking precautions to ensure that she would be looked after. She was so clever and wide-awake a child, that they were all rather apt to think she could take care of herself; and she had done so dozens of times before. Now that the result had been an accident, dangerous to life, Cragg could not forgive his own carelessness.
Pattie knew nothing of this till a week after the fall, when she came across him, alone, with his head down on the table, crying like a child. She had left the sick-room in charge of the nurse, and was going to have her supper before retiring for the night.
"But you must not mind," she urged. "It was only what we all do. Dot goes about so often alone. We never think anything of it. You could not guess that she would fall."
"I ought to have guessed. I ought to have taken heed."
"She was with Jane. Dot did not fall when she was alone. Don't you see? You really were not to blame. Dot went upstairs all right. Jane was in fault,—not you."
"No, so I hoped at first. But she was not with Jane. The girl saw her coming, and supposed one of us to be with her. And then Dot started off full speed for the top of the stairs, before Jane could get up with her."
"Because Jane is naturally slow. Anybody else might have been in time. I suppose she cannot help being stupid, but I do think she ought to have made more haste. I don't think you need blame yourself. Dot seems so much older than her age—I suppose we forget what a baby she is."
"Wouldn't you blame yourself in my place?" asked Cragg sorrowfully. "I think you would. If she dies, I shall never get over the feeling. I shall always know it was my doing—being so angry with my wife's extravagance, that I couldn't give a thought to anything else."
That was news to Pattie, and Cragg had not intended to speak of his wife's doings; but in his distress he for the moment forgot. Pattie took no advantage of the slip. She asked no questions, and she never afterwards alluded to what he had said.
For Cragg's sake, as well as for her own, it was an immense relief when they could begin to feel that the worst was over, and that Dot was taking steps towards recovery.
The main injury had been, as at first conjectured by the doctor, to the spine; and the blow upon the spine had affected the head. The little one's mind wandered much, fever ran high, and weakness became extreme.
"If Dot gets through, it will be due chiefly to Miss Dale," the doctor remarked more than once, and the hospital nurse said the same. So far as experienced nursing was concerned, she of course was far superior to Pattie. But Pattie had a power, possessed by none other, of soothing Dot in pain, of quieting her in restlessness, of making her take the food and medicine from which she turned; and these things were invaluable. The nurse often sent for Pattie to influence the child, and so to save a needless struggle, which would have exhausted the little one's strength. Dot would do anything at Pattie's request.
At the end of three or four weeks, however, the worst was really over. Dot was to be accounted convalescent, and the household began to settle into something like its usual state. Dot would have to lie flat for many a week yet—perhaps even for many a month; but the doctor gave every hope that the jar to the spine would not be of a lasting nature. Great care would be needed, he said; but there was no reason why, in a year or two at most, she might not be as well and vigorous as ever.
Only, everything depended on proper care now. Pattie felt that her work was cut out for her. She also knew that her worst difficulties might lie in the future.
The hospital nurse remained at her post, taking all night duty; but in a few days her presence would be unnecessary.
"When she goes, I shall sleep, of course, in Dot's room," Pattie said quietly, and Cragg tried to express his gratitude. But for Pattie, what they could have done at this juncture was an enigma to him. Mrs. Cragg expressed little gratitude, for she felt none. She was still jealous of Pattie's position in the sick-room, still offended at having been compelled to submit.
With Dot's rally came, as was to be expected, a spirit of fractiousness; no bad sign, the nurse said. Children getting better from an illness were always fractious. The little one was not old enough to exercise self-control, as a grown person might have done; though in truth grown persons often fail egregiously in this matter.
Dot wanted everything that she could not have, and she disliked everything that she might have, alike in the way of food and of amusement. She could hardly endure to have Pattie out of her sight, and the cry for "Dadda" was only second in frequency to the cry for "Pattie."
It was noticeable that Dot did not cry for her "Ma-ma." She had received too many snubs in that direction to turn thither in weakness and pain, with any confidence. Mrs. Cragg could not but observe this fact. It made her unhappy, and even more jealous of Pattie than before. Instead of reproaching herself, as she ought to have done, she reproached Pattie, and looked upon herself as a wronged individual.
This feeling, given way to without restraint, at last bore fruit. Mrs. Cragg, though she had uttered threats to Pattie, had not made up her mind that she would break her own promises of silence, or that she would deliberately injure the girl. But when temptation came, it round her powerless to resist. A habit of ill-temper is weakening to the moral fibre.
Mrs. Cragg's particular crony walked in to see her one certain morning—Mrs. Smithers, the chemist's wife, a smart young woman, and one of the greatest gossips in the place. A matter revealed to Mrs. Smithers was revealed to the country round. Mrs. Cragg knew this,— not that it made much difference in what she said or did not say to the woman in question.
"So you've had no end of bother about Dot," Mrs. Smithers remarked. "And she's getting on all right, I'm told."
Mrs. Cragg gave her own version of affairs. It was all Cragg's fault, according to her. He had been in "a fuss," and had scolded the child for being in the room, and Dot had run away and tumbled downstairs. This was not exactly an accurate report.
"And Pattie Dale's been doing all the nursing, has she?"
"Dear me, no. She's helped; but we've had a regular nurse in the house all this while. Mr. Cragg says she's got to go next week. He says he can't afford to keep her longer. Dot is getting on all right. I believe she'd be as well as ever, if the doctor didn't keep her lying down. 'Tisn't natural for a child. She ought to be up and about. But he gives all his orders to Pattie Dale, and I'm not allowed a word. You'd think Pattie was mistress, only to hear her."
"I don't like that girl, for my part. What makes you put up with her?"
"Haven't any choice. She's got the upper hand of Mr. Cragg—twists him round her little finger. And Dot won't look at anybody else."
"Well, I wouldn't have it so, if I were you. I'd make a stand. She's got a conceited look."
"Conceited! I should think she was. There's nobody in the world that's Pattie's equal, if you believe Pattie."
"And nobody knows wherever she came from," reflected Mrs. Smithers.
Mrs. Cragg pursed up her lips with a meaning air.
"Well, you may know, but nobody else does. What is Pattie Dale? Your husband's been going about saying she wants to find a situation. What sort is she fit for, I'd like to know?"
"When Pattie's in a temper, she always says she wants to find a situation."
"I'd let her go, if I was you. Why shouldn't she? She's no relation of yours."
"Cragg thinks he's bound to do something for her, because it was his house that fell, and that's how her father got killed."
"Ridiculous!" declared Mrs. Smithers. "I'd like to hear my husband talking like that."
"Your husband isn't Cragg," observed Mrs. Cragg, with truth.
"If he was Mr. Cragg I wouldn't let him. People ought to have sense."
Mrs. Smithers' eyes roved, and Mrs. Cragg saw that another subject was about to be introduced.
"Nobody can tell you anything about Pattie except me."
"But what do you know about her? thought they came here as strangers."
"All the same, I know something." Mrs. Cragg's air was of fascinating mystery.
"Tell me, there's a good woman. What do you know?"
"Well, I know one thing—that her father was a scamp."
"Shouldn't wonder! I saw that man, and I didn't like the looks of him. Nor Smithers didn't either. He wasn't worth much, I shouldn't think."
"Took some money that wasn't his, you know." Mrs. Cragg was drawing freely on her imagination.
"You don't say so!"
"Yes, I do. And got turned off—so he had to go away. That's why they came here. Nice sort of people, eh? I found it out by accident. It isn't easy to throw dust in my eyes. I suspected from the first, and one day it came out. It don't matter how. Pattie only wanted me not to tell."
"Well, if I was you, I shouldn't like that young woman to be with Dot. Dishonesty is catching. You'll have Dot infected."
"That's Cragg's doing. He won't hear a word against Pattie."
"Nor against Pattie's father?"
"Won't believe a word of it. Pattie declares it isn't true."
"I should like to see Smithers behaving like that! I just should!" remarked Mrs. Smithers.
"MISS DALE, we shall have you ill next. You must go out this fine morning." The doctor was impressed by the smallness and paleness of Pattie's face. He had come late, and for once the nurse had retired, leaving Pattie in charge.
"Not this morning, I think. By-and-by, when nurse can come."
"Not till evening, you mean. But how do you suppose you are going to manage when nurse is gone? You cannot be in the room always. Now that Dot is so much better, other people must take a share in the nursing."
By other people the doctor meant Mrs. Cragg.
"Would it be good for Dot?"
"I don't see why not. Dot only needs to be amused and kept quiet."
Precisely what Mrs. Cragg was not fitted to undertake, thought Pattie; but she could not say so. The doctor would have to find out for himself.
"I don't feel that I want to go out this morning."
"The more reason why you should do so. You are getting used up. Mrs. Cragg"—as she came in—"I am telling Miss Dale that she must take a run early; not spend the whole day in this room. You can arrange it? She's looking tired."
"Pattie has nothing to keep her indoors," declared Mrs. Cragg. "She's only got to please herself."
The expression that crossed the doctor's face was odd, to say the least.
"Can one of the maids take care of Dot?" he asked, bent upon his object.
"We haven't found a new nursemaid yet, and Jane's gone. I can stay, of course. It don't matter what I have to do anywhere else. Dot'll be all right."
"She cannot be left alone," remarked the young doctor.
"I know that."
"Well then, you'd better be off, Miss Dale," said the doctor.
Pattie had to submit. Dot stretched out a small hand.
"Pattie mustn't do. Wants own darling Pattie."
"Pattie will soon come back," the doctor said, holding Dot's hand. "She's going for a little walk."
"And I'll bring you some flowers, Dot," Pattie stooped over the bed.
That made Dot submit for the moment, and she slipped away.
It was a lovely morning; and if Pattie could have felt easy about Dot, left at home in charge of Mrs. Cragg, she would have enjoyed her breath of fresh morning air—not very early air, since it was past eleven, but deliciously fresh. She went at a good pace down the street, intending to take a run to the nearest meadow, on the banks of which, close to a tiny stream, she might hope to find a few wild-flowers. Not many remained now; but it did not take much to satisfy Dot.
On her way she met two or three of Mrs. Cragg's friends, people whom she had often seen and spoken with. Pattie noticed, with a feeling of slight surprise, that they hardly observed her. One of them looked away; one of them gave her a curt nod; one stared her rudely straight in the face. Pattie felt disturbed, wondering what the change of manner might mean. She did not care for any of Mrs. Cragg's friends, and she felt that they did not care for her; still, they had hitherto been civil. Naturally the question came up in her mind—had anything been said to turn them against her?
Pattie slackened her speed, and walked thoughtfully. She knew Mrs. Cragg too well not to know the possibility of this,—even at a time when she was devoting herself to the child, and when Mrs. Cragg might be supposed to owe much to her.
Somebody stopped. Pattie involuntarily stopped too, before looking up, to find herself face to face with Mrs. Smithers. She and Mrs. Smithers had met fairly often, and neither liked the other very much. The chemist's wife wore a look of complacent superiority.
"Good morning," she said. "Tisn't often we see you strolling about this time of day, Pattie."
Mrs. Smithers was given to calling people by their Christian names, with or without leave.
"No. I shall not be out long."
"But you've got a regular nurse in the house."
"Yes. She sleeps in the day, still."
"How is Dot getting on?"
"The doctor says—very nicely."
"Why doesn't he let her be up and about? How long does he mean to keep her lying down?"
Pattie felt annoyed.
"I suppose as longs he sees it to be needed," she said.
"Ah, I don't think much of that young fellow! He's very young, you know. Mrs. Cragg and I think he makes a deal too much fuss. If Dot was allowed to play about, she'd soon be all right."
"I think the doctor is likely to know more about it than you or I,— even if he is young," Pattie observed quietly. "We have not had a doctor's training."
"I hope we've got a grain of commonsense, though!" retorted the other, not pleased. "Well, and so you've taken up with the Craggs, and mean to live with them? It's all a mistake, I suppose, what Mr. Cragg was saying before Dot's accident,—that you wanted to find work?"
Pattie showed some surprise.
"It is no mistake," she said. "Of course I wish to support myself. Just now I could hardly be spared from Dot."
"Oh, as for that—I don't know about the 'sparing!' It isn't much of a question of 'sparing,' I take it. Not but what Mrs. Cragg has been a kind friend to you, I make no doubt; but all the same, it isn't likely she should want to have your father's daughter with her child."
Pattie looked at Mrs. Smithers, with eyes that had a sharp light in them.
"I don't understand."
Mrs. Smithers tossed her head.
"It's nothing so very hard to understand," she said. "Only, you do give yourself an uncommon lot of airs, Pattie; and when one comes to know that your father was turned off from his situation for being light-fingered —why, then, of course—"
"If Mrs. Cragg has told you that—"
"Oh, I didn't say it was Mrs. Cragg. I didn't say it was anybody in particular. But the tale's going about, and folks believe it. It don't matter who said it first. It was somebody that knows. You've been uncommon close about yourself, ever since you came here; but that sort of thing is sure to come out. And it isn't to be wondered at neither that Mrs. Cragg don't like a girl of your stamp to be in the house as one of themselves."
Pattie had grown white, but she did not lose her composure.
"Mrs. Cragg, of course, has told you," she said. "No one else could do so. Mrs. Cragg does know that my father was accused—wrongly accused of what he did not do. Some day the truth will come out, and my dear father's name will be cleared. I did not think that Mrs. Cragg would have done this. But—you of course cannot understand. I would rather not talk any more about it to you, if you please."
Pattie turned away and walked on. She felt like a bruised creature, longing to hide herself.
For a while she could not think of Dot, could not remember anything except that the place now knew of her father's trouble, and that nobody would believe him to be innocent—nobody except Mr. Cragg. It was hard to bear. That Mrs. Cragg should have acted in such an unfeeling way, just when she was doing her utmost, spending all her time and strength on behalf of Dot, seemed almost beyond belief.
Pattie made her way into the meadow, and sat on a fallen log, tears running down her cheeks, and no recollection of flowers in her mind. It was very, very hard. Though not naturally resentful, resentment for once rose high, and she almost felt that she could not go on any longer under the same roof with Mrs. Cragg.
Yet, to leave little Dot to Mrs. Cragg's care; to sheer off, for her own sake only, and not to help Cragg in his difficulty! Impossible!
No; not for her own sake only, but for the sake of her father's good name! That was where Mrs. Cragg's conduct most sharply stung.
Yet what good would it do to her father, if Pattie should yield to bitter feeling, and should tell Mr. Cragg that she could no longer stay and nurse Dot? She would injure her kind friend by so doing, and she might harm dear little Dot; but her father would gain nothing by it.
"No—I'll wait," murmured Pattie. "I'll do what I can for Dot. And some day, surely,—I do believe it,—some day the truth will be known. But I don't see that I should help that forward by leaving my duty now. It isn't a question of pleasing Mrs. Cragg. It is a question of dear little Dot's needs, and of doing what is right."
Then she remembered her promise to take home some flowers, and she went to the bank, plucking as many as she could find. After which she turned homewards.
Not far from the street in which the Craggs lived, as she was passing along a lane between street and hedge, the doctor drove up in his gig. Seeing Pattie, he pulled the rein, stopped, and bent over to speak to her.
"Had a good walk? You don't look much the better for it."
"But I have done as you told me."
"What has happened? Anything unpleasant?"
Pattie hesitated. Should she tell him? He would be certain to hear the tale now spreading through Putworth.
"Eh? What is it?"
"Only—something that was said to me," she replied with difficulty. "Mr. May, if you are told a story about my father, I want you not to believe it, please, too quickly. Not without more proof than you can have from Putworth people."
The doctor nodded. Pattie wondered—had he already heard it? She could have supposed so from his look.
"It is not a true tale. I—know who has started it. There was a great trouble. That was why we left our home and came here. But my father did not do the thing he was accused of. He never could have done it; and if you had known him, you would say the same. If the story gets to you, please ask Mr. Cragg about it. Mr. Cragg knows more than anybody else in Putworth."
"I'll be sure," said the doctor seriously. "You may trust me. And if I were you, Miss Dale, I wouldn't think too much of the chatter of a lot of silly women. It isn't worth your worrying yourself about. Just go your own way bravely, and don't mind. You've been a kind friend to the Craggs, and Mr. Cragg knows it. Other people don't matter."
Pattie smiled; and he gathered up the reins.
"As for Dot, we must consider. You ought to get out more; but I—well, I see the difficulty. Yet Mr. Cragg is anxious not to keep the nurse longer than can be helped. It's an expense, of course."
"I'm ready to do everything I can for Dot."
"I know you are. Wish other folks were as ready, especially those who ought to be doing the most. Well, you won't lose in the end by your kindness. People never do, I believe. I must be off. Good-day, and don't fret."
Pattie went on her way, a good deal cheered. After all, Mrs. Cragg's opinion, and the opinion of Mrs. Smithers, were both unimportant. Things said might be painful; but they should not touch Pattie's peace. And as for her father, he was beyond the reach of any such little earthly gnat-bites.
Another subject took hold of her mind. How had Dot been getting on during her absence? Pattie looked at her watch, and found that she had been fully an hour away. She had meant to stay only half an hour; but busy thought had made time slip by faster than she knew. A whole hour for the little invalid alone with Mrs. Cragg! Pattie quickened her steps.
As she reached and opened the house-door it was the door in the side street through which she and Mrs. Cragg usually went in and out— screams saluted her ears. Screams in Dot's voice. Pattie hurried towards the bedroom, and opened that door also. Mrs. Cragg was standing by the bed, with a medicine-glass in her hand, which she was plainly trying to force Dot to drink from. Dot was resisting with all her little might and main, shrieking indignantly as she fought.
Pattie gave one glance at the bottle on the table, from which, apparently, Mrs. Cragg had poured a portion into the tumbler, and then, ghastly pale, she rushed forward.
"RIDICULOUS fuss and nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Cragg. "Never saw anything like it!"
The doctor had taken his departure minutes later than Pattie, and Cragg had into the room. Dot lay with wistful watching the door through which Pattie disappeared. Mrs. Cragg jerked her chair.
"Absurd rubbish! Just when I've no end of things to see to. But it's Pattie all over!"
"What's the matter now?" asked Cragg mildly. "Where is Pattie, did you say?"
"I didn't say she was anywhere, Cragg!"
"But she must, of course, be—somewhere. Is anything the matter?"
"Matter enough; as you'd know if you hadn't got your head in the clouds, as usual. Here am I, tied hand and foot, just for nothing in the world, but because Pattie chooses to go grumbling about herself to Mr. May he says she's to go out for a walk. Wanting a walk at this time of day! I never heard such nonsense!"
"Pattie did look white this morning," observed Cragg.
"She didn't more than usual. Pattie always is a washed-out creature. It don't make a grain of difference whether she's out-of-doors or in, for the matter of that."
"At any rate, if the doctor says it—"
"Oh, if the doctor says Putworth mustn't eat anything except green cheese, it'll have to do it, I suppose! I've no notion of that sort of thing. Mr. May don't know everything, after all; and he's easy taken in by a designing girl."
"You don't call Pattie—"
"I call Pattie what she is, Mr. Cragg."
"And all these weeks she has been slaving here—"
Mrs. Cragg broke into the half-spoken sentence:
"Slaving, indeed! Who gives Pattie board and lodging, I'd like to know? What would become of her if it wasn't for us, Mr. Cragg?"
"My dear, there are two sides to that question. You would not find a professional nurse giving you her services for board and lodging. If Pattie is not a professional nurse, the doctor says she is as good a nurse as can be had without the training. And both he and the nurse say she has done more for Dot than either of them."
"Dadda!" murmured Dot, clinging to his hand, as he sat beside her.
"Dear little Dot!—But you see, don't you?"
"I see that Pattie manages to get the upper hand of you men somehow! I'm sick and tired to death of hearing of nothing but Pattie's goodness. If she'd condescend to be bad for once, I could put up with her better."
"You would probably be the first to blame her," rejoined Cragg, aware how useless it was to answer his wife, yet for once unable to resist doing so. "There are bad people in plenty. We need a few more good ones."
"Wants own darling Pattie!" murmured Dot.
"There you go again! Will you hold your tongue, Dot, and not talk in that ridiculous way?"
Dot's eyes grew large, and filled with tears.
"My dear, think of Dot's state. You must not make her cry," urged Cragg anxiously. "She is not used of late to be spoken to in such a tone."
"Wants—Pattie!" sobbed Dot brokenly.
"Yes, yes, dear; Pattie will soon come back," said Cragg, stooping over her. "Don't you mind, little one. It's all right. Pattie's only gone for a walk, and she will soon be here. Don't cry, Dot. Ma-ma didn't mean anything unkind. I've got to go to business now, but I shall soon look in again."
Dot clutched at him, casting glances of evident shrinking towards Mrs. Cragg.
"Dadda—stay! Dadda—not go!"
"But I must, dear. I've got somebody waiting now to see me. Just for a little while, and then I'll look in again. And Pattie will come back. And Dot will be good, won't Dot?"
Cragg went off with a heavy heart, feeling little doubt that his absence was better than his presence at that moment. Mrs. Cragg, left to herself, would no doubt do what lay in her power for the child. So long as he remained, she would go on showing temper.
Dot sobbed quietly, half under the bedclothes, and Mrs. Cragg sat in moody silence. Then she began to grow uneasy. She did not wish Pattie to come back and to find Dot in tears. It would be an admission of failure on her part. So she moved to the chair which Cragg had vacated, and said in a tone meant to be encouraging:
"Come now, Dot, you needn't be a little goose."
Dot shrank from her. That movement went home. With all Mrs. Cragg's faults, she did love her child.
"Come, Dot; don't be cross."
"I not doss! Ma-ma doss."
Another pause.
"Come, don't be silly. What do you want to do? How do you like to be amused?"
"Wants darling own Pattie!"
"But you can't have Pattie. Not till Pattie chooses to come. She's gone off to amuse herself. You've got to put up with me, so you may as well be good-tempered about it. What's this book? Shall I read to you?"
Dot, becoming aware of the position of affairs, determined to make the most of her opportunity. Tears stopped, and she studied Mrs. Cragg from a fresh point of view.
"Ma-ma tell a tory," was the result of these observations.
"I don't know any stories."
Another break.
"Ma-ma tell a tory," came again.
Mrs. Cragg actually started off in an attempt at compliance.
"Well, once upon a time," she said, "there was a man, and he went out for a walk. He had to go and see his—oh, his grandmother. And he took some nice new-laid eggs for her, and he—he thought he'd see—"
Mrs. Cragg broke down.
"Thought he'd see—" repeated Dot encouragingly.
"Thought he'd see if he couldn't get his sister to go with him."
Another pause.
"And did hims sister go?"
"Well, no, I don't think she did." Pause again.
"That's a toopid tory," said Dot calmly. "Pattie tells oh such lovely, lovely tories."
Mrs. Cragg did not like to be compared with Pattie.
"Seems to me Pattie does every single thing right in your opinion, Dot."
Dot's look was of assent.
Mrs. Cragg had exhausted her powers of invention, and the "tory" advanced no further. Dot, not finding it of interest, did not ask more. She lay silent, her eyes roving, on the watch for Pattie. Mrs. Cragg fidgeted about the room, gazed out of the window, and walked to the table, where she found a slip of paper fastened to the pin-cushion. On the slip was written, "Dot's medicine—at half-past eleven, half-past three, and half-past six."
"Why, it's over the time," she said. "Pattie seems in no hurry to come back. Where does she keep your medicine?" Mrs. Cragg was glad to escape any more "tory-telling."
Dot's little finger pointed vaguely towards the mantelshelf. Mrs. Cragg walked thither, not noting that Dot's finger was now directed towards the cupboard.
"Ah, here's the bottle," she muttered, as she took up one with eight divisions into doses marked upon it. "What queer-looking stuff! That's Mr. May's concern, not mine. I don't believe Dot needs such a lot of medicine." She carried bottle and glass to the small table near the bed.
"I not like it," declared Dot. "Nor I won't take it till Pattie tomes."
"Nonsense! You'll take it, of course, if I give it to you. You've got to be a good girl." Mrs. Cragg was out of patience with Pattie's admirers.
She had seen the nurse administer Dot's medicine, and had once poured out a dose herself, the nurse standing by, so she felt secure as to quantities. Besides, the bottle was marked into doses. The liquid did not look as she would have expected from her recollections; but Dot's medicine had been once or twice changed, and Mrs. Cragg's mind was too much bent in another direction to allow of her noting details. She was growing annoyed with the length of Pattie's absence.
The door opened to admit—not Pattie, as at first Mrs. Cragg hoped, but the untidy maid-of-all-work.
"Mrs. Smithers wants to see yer," she announced.
"What a bother, and Pattie not come back! Well, tell Mrs. Smithers to come into the passage. I can't leave the child, and if I have her in the room, somebody is sure to say it's bad for Dot."
Mrs. Cragg had poured out the dose, and she put it on the little table, going outside the open door. Mrs. Smithers came briskly up.
"I haven't got a moment to spare," she said; "but I want you to come along presently. I've got something to tell you. There's going to be that flower-show next week, and I mean to get a new bonnet, and you ought too. And we'll settle to go together."
"Yes, I know; I've heard about it. I'd like to go with you."
"Well, how soon can you come?"
"As soon as ever I can get away. Pattie's gone out—such nonsense, this time of day!—and I'm shut up here. The child's past everything, with her whims and fancies. Pattie and Cragg do their best to spoil her. But I shan't stop one minute longer than I have to."
"I met Pattie walking along—going off to enjoy herself. As pert as could be."
"Shouldn't wonder!"
"Seemed to make out that she was doing all the work of nursing Dot, and was so useful she couldn't be spared. If I was you, I'd take care and not let her get the upper hand in this house. You'll live to repent it some day, see if you don't."
"She shan't have the upper hand with my will."
"Well, you just come along to me as soon as ever you can. While Pattie is living on you and your husband, you'd best make use of her. I can tell you, I gave her a bit of my mind, and she didn't like it—not at all. I told her it wasn't likely you'd want her father's daughter to have much to do with Dot. You should just have seen how she looked. There's Dot beginning to cry. You'll have to go back to her."
Mrs. Cragg did go back, not in the best of humours. It was with an annoyed jerk that she took up the medicine-glass.
"What a silly child you are to be always crying!" she said impatiently. "I wish you would have some sense. You must take your medicine now. Pattie doesn't mean to get back yet, it's easy to see."
"I not going to, till Pattie tomes," sobbed Dot.
That aroused Mrs. Cragg's opposition. She gave no second look towards the bottle, but brought the glass to the bedside, and held it ready.
"Now, Dot."
"No, no!" shrieked Dot.
Mrs. Cragg laid a hand on Dot's shoulder, and Dot buried her face in the pillow.
"No, no, no, no!" she cried loudly.
Mrs. Cragg endeavoured to lift Dot up, and to force the edge of the glass between her clenched teeth. Dot struggled and screamed, and wrenched herself away. Mrs. Cragg by this time was really angry, ascribing Dot's resistance to Pattie's influence. She took firm grip of the child, and again did her best to pour the liquid through those fast-shut teeth. Dot fought hard.
This was the moment when Pattie ran in. She heard the child's cries, and saw Mrs. Cragg's excited face. Then her glance fell upon the bottle which stood on the small table, and in one terrible moment the truth flashed upon Pattie. It was a moment that she never afterwards forgot.
For the bottle bore a label with a word upon it, which Mrs. Cragg in her disgraceful carelessness had failed to notice. That word was— "LAUDANUM."
PATTIE knew that she had not the smallest fraction of time to spare. Dot's resistance was giving way, and Mrs. Cragg had all but gained the victory. To scream would be useless. Mrs. Cragg would listen to no warning of hers.
She flung herself wildly across the space between, full against Mrs. Cragg, and Mrs. Cragg went down in a heap upon the bed, the glass of liquid being jerked out of her hand and shattered upon the floor. Pattie, with the force of her own impetus, went down upon Mrs. Cragg, and Dot was in some danger of being demolished.
"You rude, unmannerly girl, you!" shrieked Mrs. Cragg, pulling herself up and glaring at Pattie. "You dare to treat me so! You—you—you—" breath and words failing her together. "I'll tell Mr. Cragg the sort of way you go on! See if I don't!"
Mrs. Cragg shook herself, and pulled down her sleeves, which had been dragged out of position in the scuffle.
"Never saw such behaviour in my life! But I can tell you I'm not going to submit to this sort of thing. I'll have you turned out of the house! I'll have you made to remember yourself another time. It's disgraceful!"
Pattie was seated upon the side of the bed, white as ashes, gasping for breath, and clutching Dot, as if to save the child from some terrible danger. Dot had become composed the moment she had Pattie by her side. Pattie's gaze met Mrs. Cragg's furious eyes, but to speak at first was impossible. That short horror had robbed her of all strength. Dot whimpered, and then put her finger into her mouth.
At length Pattie found power to point to the bottle upon the table, and to whisper hoarsely,—
"Look! It is poison!"
Mrs. Cragg did look, and understood. Suddenly her fury died away, and she stood, convicted, trembling, almost stunned with the awful knowledge that, but for Pattie's prompt action, she might have killed her own little child.
The dead silence was broken by Pattie's sobs. Dot's arms were round her neck, pulling her down.
"Pattie, why you cly? Pattie own darling. Pattie mustn't cly. Pattie stay with Dot."
Pattie could do nothing but "cly" for a while. The morning had been one long strain, and this final fright broke her down. She hid her face in Dot's pillow and sobbed helplessly.
But presently the silence of the other who was present crept into her consciousness; and she lifted her head to look around. Mrs. Cragg sat apart, grey and wordless. All the self-assertion was for once washed-out of her. She had no excuse to offer, no self-defence to put forward. That abashed face was new to Pattie. She could not see in it the Mrs. Cragg whom she had hitherto known.
"Is ma-ma angly?" asked Dot's little voice.
"No, Dot. I think ma-ma is sorry," replied Pattie's trembling tones.
Mrs. Cragg neither moved nor looked round.
"I'm sorry to have had to be so rough," at length faltered Pattie, her chest heaving still. "I couldn't help it, you know. There was no time. If I had not made haste—"
Then a new fear swept across her.
"Did Dot take any? Mrs. Cragg, are you sure?—did she drink any of that stuff?"
"No," was the answer; "not one drop."
"If she had—"
The girl shuddered; then, standing up, she went nearer to Mrs. Cragg.
"You didn't know, of course. You didn't think what you were doing. I suppose you fancied it was her medicine."
"Dot pointed to the mantelshelf. I asked her."
"No. That stood there. It oughtn't to have been. But we kept the medicine in the cupboard. That is only meant for—" Pattie broke down afresh. "It ought not to have been left anywhere within reach," she went on presently. "But, oh, if I had not been in time—"
"If Mrs. Smithers hadn't been to see me, she'd have had it all ever so long ago," muttered Mrs. Cragg. "And if you hadn't come back just when you did—"
Mrs. Cragg spoke in a strange, husky voice, and before Pattie could answer she asked abruptly:
"If Dot had drunk that, would she have died?" Pattie whispered a "Yes." Mrs. Cragg's shoulders shook, and Pattie's hand came on her kindly.
"I don't know, I'm sure, whatever makes you so nice to me," faltered Mrs. Cragg. "You've behaved uncommon well, I must say. And I've treated you bad, I know that. I don't know whatever made me. But I shan't forget this. I shan't ever forget it." Mrs. Cragg began to choke and gulp. Dot seemed inclined to go to sleep after the morning's agitations.
"Don't keep her awake," whispered Pattie; and Mrs. Cragg did her best to cry in subdued tones—not an easy matter, since self-command was not one of her virtues.
By the time Dot was soundly off, Mrs. Cragg spoke again:
"Pattie, you don't know what I've been and done! I've told Mrs. Smithers all about you."
"Yes; I know you have."
"I mean—about your father. I felt cross, and so I said it out. If you'd known that, you wouldn't, perhaps, have—"
"Not have tried to save dear little Dot!" Pattie spoke in amazed accents. "You can't think so, surely! I would do anything for Dot. Mrs. Smithers told me when I was out. She did not say that she had heard it from you, but of course—" Pattie stopped.
"I am very sorry," she said quietly, "because everybody will hear it now. But still, if you will let me stay a little longer to take care of Dot, I would rather do it. I should like to be sure that she is taken care of properly, till she is well."
"I don't wonder you think I'm not fit to look after her!"
"I don't think you are a good nurse," came in reply. "A nurse would be more careful. But, after this, you will never make such a mistake again. And I do think nurse and I have been to blame, leaving out a bottle of poisonous stuff where anybody might get hold of it. In an old medicine bottle too! I can't think how we could! It's a lesson to me as well as to you."
Mrs. Cragg gazed at Pattie with troubled eyes.
"I've treated you uncommon ill," she said.
"But you are sorry now. You will be kinder from to-day, won't you?" asked Pattie, putting her hand into Mrs. Cragg's. "You will try to like me more than you have done?"
"And, Pattie, you don't mind—what I've been and told Mrs. Smithers?"
"Yes, I do mind. I can't help minding very much. It is a question of my father's good name; and I must mind that. But it is done, and I have to bear it. I shouldn't make things any better by going away, and making dear little Dot unhappy. Only, may I say one thing? I do want very much that Dot should never hear about this. I mean, I want her never to know that you could find out my secret as you did, and that you have broken your promise not to tell. Don't let it come to her ears."
Mrs. Cragg broke into almost a laugh.
"I should have thought it would be me, not you, to want that," she said. "And Dot's such a baby!"
"But she understands. Dot notices everything. And she has to learn what goodness and truth are—through you. She ought to know first what God is—through you. Don't you see what I mean? When I think of my mother, it helps me to know how true and loving God is. How can Dot learn in any other way? I can talk to her, but words don't mean much. Dot ought to learn the lesson—through you—through what you are."
Mrs. Cragg's head hung low. This went home like a dagger-thrust. If Dot were to form her childish notion of God from what her mother was, it might well be asked what would be the picture of God in that little mind?
Then she burst afresh into tears.
Dot's accident had at the first opened Mrs. Cragg's eyes to the reality of what her child was to her; but after tempers and ill-moods had obscured the lesson. Now, far more sharply, a second time it had come. In the hour when she stood, glass in hand, recklessly striving to force between Dot's lips that which would have rendered her a childless woman, and when Pattie had dashed the fearful peril aside, Mrs. Cragg became a changed person.
The change could not be otherwise than gradual in its working; yet in actual fact it was abrupt. Hitherto Mrs. Cragg's life-attitude had been away from good and towards evil. She had lived for herself only, not for God, not for those who were about her. Now, as in a flash, she had learnt to know something of her true self, to realise something of whither that self-pleasing attitude might lead her. Thenceforward her face was to be turned another way. Hard fighting would lie before her; but from this day she did fight, she did not merely drift. She began to wish to be more like Pattie.
Also she began ardently to wish for more of her little Dot's affection. Not now because she was jealous of Pattie, but because she found how much of the sweet child-love she had thrown away.
Dot bore no malice. When Mrs. Cragg set herself to amuse the little one, Dot magnanimously accepted all attentions. But at any moment she would turn from Mrs. Cragg, with a cry of joy, to "Pattie or Dadda." There was no cry of joy when Mrs. Cragg appeared. It would take long before Dot could forget the past.
Cragg was told by his wife the terrible story of little Dot's narrow escape. Pattie had promised to say nothing; but Mrs. Cragg showed that her penitence was real by confessing it herself. Cragg was much overcome by the thought of what might have been—but for Pattie.
"My dear, I don't know how you feel," he said, "but I feel that nothing we can do for her will be too much—after this!"
"I think so too, Mr. Cragg. And I'd like Pattie never to leave us."
Cragg surveyed his wife seriously.
"You wish it now. But, by-and-by—when you begin to forget—"
"I shan't forget. I never shall. I couldn't—how could I? It isn't like a common thing happening. Just think—what it is that Pattie saved me from! No, I'd like Pattie to stop with us always. And I want to say something else too. I really am sorry now that I've spent such a lot lately, and I do mean to do better. I mean to be more careful. It hasn't been right."
Cragg came near and gave his wife a kiss.
"I'm glad you feel so, my dear," he said kindly. "It's a great relief to my mind."
"I mean to save all I can. And I'll spend as little as ever I can do with, till that bill is paid. I will really, Mr. Cragg. And—I think I shan't be so much with Mrs. Smithers. She hasn't been a nice friend."
"I hope it will all come true as you purpose, my dear," Cragg said gravely.
For a moment Mrs. Cragg was tempted to be angry, recognising the doubt in her husband's tone. Then she remembered that she had not been careful always to keep her word. Better than being angry was to resolve afresh, not in her own strength, and to show in the course of time that her intentions and promises were worthy of reliance.
"PATTIE, I don't know what to do. Tell me how I'm to make Dot love me."
This was three weeks later. Dot was asleep, and Pattie had come to the sitting-room, leaving the new nursery-maid in charge. Mrs. Cragg broke out with the above remark.
"But Dot does love you. I am sure she does. Dot is such a loving little thing."
"She don't care to have me with her. I can see that plain enough. I can see the difference when you come in."
"A little child's love is so easily won. Haven't you found it so?"
"I don't know. I suppose I haven't taken the trouble. I've been too busy—thinking about other things."
"You will never be too busy again for Dot—your own little Dot. Think how much you ought to be to her—and how much you have to teach her!"
"You said so once before. I've not forgotten. I don't think I can forget. It frightens me sometimes. Pattie, did you really mean what you said—quite all that?"
"All what?"
"The other day. Don't you remember? You said to me—you said something— something about—about Dot having to know what God is, through me. It frightened me then, and it frightens me now, when I think of what you said."
"It was true. Of course it was true. Don't you see?"
"No, I don't."
"But you can't help it. God has given little Dot to you, just that you may teach her about Him—that you may show her what He is. No one in all the world can teach her as you can."
"I can't! I don't know how."
"You have to learn how. You ought to be able. Other people can talk to her about God; but you can show her what the talking means, by what you are to her yourself. There's no love in the world so near to the love of God as a mother's love. And Dot can never have another mother,—so it all depends upon you."
"Pattie—you don't mean—"
"I mean just what I'm saying," Pattie replied quietly. "If you don't show her what is meant by the love of God, she may learn it in some other way; but she can't learn it in the best way of all. It isn't so much a question of what you say or don't say to Dot, as of what you are to her. She ought to feel that she can always turn to you in everything—that she can always be sure of your truth and your love. She ought to know that, if all the world went wrong, you could never fail her. And then that would help her to understand what is meant by the love and the truth of God and of Christ. Don't you see now?"
"Doesn't sound as if I ever could!" muttered the other.
"But if it is right, you can. There's always a 'can' where there's an 'ought.'"
"I do mean to try." Mrs. Cragg was looking down and twisting a corner of the tablecloth. "And I want you to help me. I know you can—more than anybody."
"I'd do anything I was able."
"Yes, I know you would. I'm sure of that. Pattie, I want to know— do you think you can ever forgive me for getting at your letters, and then telling Mrs. Smithers what I thought? I told Mr. Cragg the other day about it; and he says you behaved beautifully, and we've got to do the best we can to make up to you for what you've had to bear. And we want you always to live here,—to be like Dot's elder sister. If it hadn't been for you, we shouldn't have any little Dot now. Cragg and I can't forget that. Do you think you can forgive me?"
Pattie had had no chance of getting in a word thus far. As she could not make her voice heard, she spoke with her face.
"I'm sure I don't deserve you should. And I've given my husband a lot of bother lately. I can't think what's come over me the last few years. But I do mean to be different now; and I'll try to learn to be what you say I ought to be to Dot. Only, I shall want you to help me. And if you went away, perhaps I might forget. I don't think I should, but I might."
The conversation was interrupted. Cragg walked in, carrying a letter, which he gave to Pattie.
"Post this minute come," he remarked. "Dot is looking more herself this afternoon than I've seen her. Just been there, and she woke up. She's all right; you needn't hurry. Eh?"—as an exclamation burst from Pattie.
The girl clasped her hands.
"O! I am so glad! It's the one thing I wanted! I am so glad! My dear father!"
"Anything happened?" asked Cragg.
Pattie's face was a mixture of smiles and tears.
"Yes. A letter from Mr. Peterson himself—such a kind letter. He has found out who took the money, and he knows now that it was not my father. He is so grieved to think he could ever have suspected him. He says he would give his right hand to undo the past."
"The man must be a wretch! Why, he ought to have known your father better!" declared Mrs. Cragg. Like most persons of suspicious temperament, she was voluble in condemning others for doing what she would have done herself.
"I think he ought; but it is easy for us to say that now. I suppose it was not easy for him to feel sure then. My father never spoke a hard word of Mr. Peterson."
"And your father will never know that the truth is found out. I do think that's too bad."
Cragg was silent, watching the light on Pattie's face.
"Why should he not know? How can we tell? If he cannot see or hear for himself what goes on here—and we don't know anything about that!— I should think the angels would tell him. If he cares to know, I am sure they would. I am so thankful it is cleared up. It is like a great weight taken off me."
"And you mean to say,"—began Mrs. Cragg,—"you mean to say, Pattie, that you can feel kindly about that man—that Peterson?"
"I think he did wrongly. He was sure too quickly. He ought to have trusted longer. But it was difficult for him—things looked black, I suppose. And now he is very very sorry. No one could be more sorry."
"Well, you're not my sort. If a man had behaved so to me, I shouldn't forget it the rest of my life. I shouldn't want ever to see him again. Why, just think—if he hadn't turned your father away, you wouldn't have come here at all, and your father might be living now! Just think!"
"My dear!" remonstrated Cragg.
But even this suggestion could not shake Pattie's peace, though two tears fell.
"It must have been God's will," she said. "It wasn't only Mr. Peterson's doing. And if God meant to call my father Home just at that time, He would have done it in some other way—even if we had not come to Putworth. And if it was the right time for father to go, how could I want to keep him back?"
"You're right, Pattie," said Cragg. "And my wife is wrong to try you like this. It's a great mercy to know that your poor father's name is cleared. And you'll feel all the happier for it. You're right enough to forgive Mr. Peterson. Only I do think he ought, in some sort of way, to try to make up to you for the past. He has done you and your father a great wrong, though I dare say he didn't mean it. And, take it any way you will, it's through him in a sort of manner that you are an orphan. I think he ought to do something for you."
Pattie placed the letter in Cragg's hand.
"Read that, please," she said.
Cragg read part to himself, but one sentence he gave aloud:
"'As a small token of my undying regret, I intend at once to settle upon you the sum of fifty pounds per annum for the rest of your life. Then I shall know that the child of my old friend will not come to actual want. I am most thankful to have found your address.'"
"She won't come to want, if we can help it," remarked Cragg. "Pattie, does this mean that you'll want to go back among your old friends? I shouldn't wonder if it does."
Pattie looked, smiling, from one to the other.
"Not yet," she said. "I shall like to see them all again—some day. But, as long as you and Mrs. Cragg want me, I shall feel this to be my home."
And Pattie lived with the Craggs for two full years from that date. Then one day she went to church, with many friends, and came away as the young doctor's wife—Mrs. May. Some said he had won a treasure.
Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.