Title decoration chap. X
Title decoration chap. X
Some time after this Aunt Patty bought a magnificent toy menagerie, not for a present to any of her young nieces and nephews, but to keep as an attraction to her own room when she wished for their company.
Even Maggie could not hold out against such delightful toys, and after some coaxing from Bessie, and a good deal of peeping through the crack of the door at these wonderful animals, she ventured into Aunt Patty's room.
The two little girls, with Franky, were there one morning while mamma and Aunt Patty sat at their work. The animals had been put through a great number of performances, afterwhich it was found necessary to put the menagerie in thorough order. For this purpose the wild beasts were all taken from their cages, and tied with chains of mamma's bright-colored worsteds to the legs of the chairs and tables, while the cages were rubbed and dusted; after which they were to be escorted home again. This proved a very troublesome business, for the animals, as was quite natural, preferred the fields, which were represented by the green spots in the carpet, to the cages, where they were so closely shut up, and did not wish to be carried back. At least, so Maggie said when mamma asked the cause of all the growling and roaring which was going on.
"You see, mamma," she said, "they want to run away to their own forests, and they tried to devour their keepers, till some very kind giants, that's Bessie and Franky and me, came to help the keepers."
But now Flossy, who had been lying quietly on the rug, watching his chance for a bit ofmischief, thought he had better help the giants, and rushing at an elephant with which Franky was having a great deal of trouble, tossed it over with his nose, and sent it whirling against the side of the room, where it lay with a broken leg and trunk. Alas, for the poor elephant! It was the first one of the toys that had been broken, and great was the mourning over its sad condition, while Flossy was sent into the corner in disgrace. Of course, it was not possible for the elephant to walk home; he must ride.
"Patty," said Franky, "do down-'tairs and det my water-tart; it's in de lib'ry."
"Franky, Franky!" said mamma, "is that the way to speak to Aunt Patty?"
"Please," Said Franky.
"Aunt Patty has a bone in her foot," said Mrs. Lawrence.
Franky put his head on one side, and looking quizzically at the old lady, said, "Oo went down-'tairs for oo bastet wis a bone in oo foot, so oo tan do for my tart wis a bone in oo foot."
Maggie and Bessie knew that this was saucy, and expected that Aunt Patty would be angry; but, to their surprise, she laughed, and would even have gone for the cart if mamma had not begged her not to.
"Franky," said mamma, as the little girls, seeing Aunt Patty was not displeased, began to chuckle over their brother's cute speech, "you must not ask Aunt Patty to run about for you. It is not pretty for little boys to do so."
"But me want my tart to wide dis poor efelant," said Franky, coaxingly.
Bessie said she would go for the cart, and ran away down-stairs. She went through the parlor, and reaching the library-door, which stood ajar, pushed it open. Aunt Bessie and Uncle Ruthven were there; and what did she see? Was it possible?
"Oh!" she exclaimed.
At this the two culprits turned, and seeing Bessie's shocked and astonished face, Uncle Ruthven laughed outright, his own hearty,ringing laugh. "Come here, princess," he said.
But Bessie was off, the cart quite forgotten. Through the hall and up the stairs, as fast as the little feet could patter, never pausing till she reached mamma's room, where she buried her face in one of the sofa cushions; and there her mother found her some moments later.
"Why, Bessie, my darling, what is it?" asked mamma. "What has happened to you?"
Bessie raised her flushed and troubled face, but she was not crying, as her mother had supposed, though she looked quite ready to do so.
"Oh, mamma!" she said, as Mrs. Bradford sat down and lifted her up on her lap.
"What has troubled you, dearest?"
"Oh, mamma, such a shocking thing! I don't know how to tell you."
"Have you been in any mischief, dear? If you have, do not be afraid to tell your own mamma."
"Oh! it was not me, mamma, but it was a dreadful, dreadful mischief."
"Well, darling, if any of the others have been in mischief, of which I should know, I do not think you will speak of it unless it is necessary!"
"But you ought to know it, mamma, so you can see about it; it was so very unproper. But it was not any of us children; it was big people—it was—it was—Uncle Yuthven and Aunt Bessie; and I'm afraid they won't tell you themselves."
"Well," said Mrs. Bradford, trying to keep a grave face, as she imagined she began to see into the cause of the trouble. She need not have tried to hide her smiles. Her little daughter buried her face on her bosom, as she whispered the, to her, shocking secret, and never once looked up at her mother.
"Mamma,—he—he—kissedher!—he did—and she never scolded him, not a bit."
Still the disturbed little face was hidden,and mamma waited a moment till she could compose her own, and steady her voice.
"My darling," she said, "I have a pleasant secret to tell you. You love dear Aunt Bessie very much; do you not?"
"Yes, mamma, dearly, dearly; and, mamma, she's very much mine,—is she not?—'cause I'm her namesake; and Uncle Yuthven ought not to do it. He had no yight. Mamma, don't you think papa had better ask him to go back to Africa for a little while?"
Bessie's voice was rather angry now. Mamma had once or twice lately seen signs of a little jealous feeling toward Uncle Ruthven. She, Bessie the younger, thought it very strange that Bessie the elder should go out walking or driving so often with Uncle Ruthven, or that they should have so many long talks together. Uncle Ruthven took up quite too much of Aunt Bessie's time, according to little Bessie's thinking. She had borne it pretty well, however, until now; but that Uncle Ruthvenshould "make so intimate" as to kiss Aunt Bessie, was the last drop in the cup, and she was displeased as well as distressed.
"And if papa had the power," said Mrs. Bradford, "would my Bessie wish Uncle Ruthven sent away again, and so grieve dear grandmamma, who is so glad to have him at home once more, to say nothing of his other friends? I hope my dear little daughter is not giving way to that ugly, hateful feeling, jealousy."
"Oh! I hope not, mamma," said Bessie. "I would not like to be so naughty. And if you think it's being jealous not to like Uncle Yuthven to—to do that, I'll try not to mind it so much;" and here a great sob escaped her, and a tear or two dropped on mamma's hand.
Mrs. Bradford thought it best to make haste and tell her the secret.
"My darling," she said, "you know, though you are so fond of dear Aunt Bessie, she is not related to you,—not really your aunt."
"Yes'm, but then I love her just as muchas if she was my very, very own. I have to love her for so many yeasons; 'cause she is her own self and I can't help it, and 'cause I'm her namesake, and 'cause she's my dear soldier's own sister. Mamma, don't you think that is plenty of yeasons to be fond of her for?"
"Yes, dear, but you must be willing to have others fond of her too. And do you not think it would be very pleasant to have her for your own aunt, and to keep her always with us for our very own?"
"Oh, yes, mamma! but then that could not be; could it?"
"Well, yes," said Mrs. Bradford; "if Uncle Ruthven marries her, she will really be your aunt, and then she will live at grandmamma's, where you may see her almost every day, and feel she is quite one of the family."
"And is he going to, mamma?" asked Bessie, raising her head, and with the utmost surprise and pleasure breaking over her face;"is Uncle Yuthven going to marry her, and make her our true aunt?"
"Yes, I believe so," answered her mother; "it was all settled a few days ago. We did not mean to tell you just yet, but now I thought it better. But, Bessie, if you send poor Uncle Ruthven away to Africa again, I fear you will lose Aunt Bessie too, for she will go with him."
"I was naughty to say that, dear mamma," said Bessie, her whole face in a glow of delight, "and I am so sorry I felt cross to Uncle Yuthven just when he was doing us such a great, great favor. Oh, he was so very kind to think of it! He has been trying to give us pleasure ever since he came home, and now he has done the very best thing of all. He knew just what we would like; did he not, mamma?"
Mamma laughed. "I rather think he knew we would all be pleased, Bessie."
"I must thank him very much indeed,—must I not, mamma?—and tell him how very obliging I think he is."
"You may thank him just as much as you please, dear," said mamma, merrily. "Here comes Maggie to see what has become of us. She must hear this delightful secret too."
So Maggie was told, and went capering round the room in frantic delight at the news, inventing, as usual, so many plans and pleasures that might fit in with this new arrangement, that Bessie was better satisfied than ever, and even forgave Uncle Ruthven the kiss.
And here was a second joy at hand; for in came a message from Mrs. Rush, asking that the little girls might come over to the hotel and spend the rest of the day with her and the colonel. They were always ready enough for this, and in a short time they were dressed and on their way with Starr, the colonel's man, who had come for them.
Starr was a soldier, straight, stiff, and very grave and respectful in his manner; and now, as he walked along, leading a little girl in each hand, they wondered to see how very smiling he looked.
"Starr," said Bessie, peeping up in his face, "have you some good news?"
"I've no bad news, miss," said Starr, with a broader smile than before.
"You look so very pleased," said Bessie; to which Starr only replied, "It's likely, miss," and became silent again.
When they reached the long crossing, who should be standing on the corner but Sergeant Richards. Bessie saw him at once, and went directly up to him.
"How do you do, Mr. Station Policeman?" she said, politely, and holding out her morsel of a hand to him. "This is my Maggie."
"Well, now, but I'm glad to see you, and your Maggie too," said the police-sergeant. "And how have you been this long time?"
"Pretty well," answered Bessie. "How are your blind boy and your lame wife and your sick baby, and all your troubles?"
"Why, the wife is able to move round a little," said Richards, "and the baby is mending a bit too."
"And Willie?" asked Bessie.
A shadow came over the policeman's honest face. "Willie is drooping," he said, with a sigh. "I think it's the loss of the sight of his mother's face and of the blessed sunlight that's ailing him. His eyes are quite blind now,—no more light to them than if he was in a pitch-dark cell."
"But I thought the doctor could cure him when his eyes were all blind," said Bessie.
"Not just now, dear. Next year, maybe, if all goes well. That's the best we can hope for, I believe. But here I am standing and talking to you, when I've business on hand that can't be put off." So saying, he shook hands again with Bessie and walked rapidly away.
"I s'pose he means he can't afford to pay the doctor now," said Bessie, as she and Maggie went on again with Starr. "Mrs. Granby said they were pretty poor, and she was 'fraid they couldn't do it this year. It's so long for Willie to wait. I wonder if papa wouldn't pay the doctor."
"There's the mistress watching for the little ladies," said Starr, and, looking up, the children saw Mrs. Rush standing at the window of her room and nodding to them. In two minutes more they were at the door, which she opened for them with even a brighter face than usual; and, after kissing them, stood aside to let them see the colonel, who was coming forward to meet them.
Yes, there he came, and—no wonder Mrs. Rush looked bright and happy, no wonder Starr was smiling—without his crutches; moving slowly, to be sure, and leaning on a cane, but walking on two feet!
If Colonel Rush imagined he was about to give his little friends a pleasant surprise, he found he was not mistaken.
"Oh!" exclaimed Bessie, but it was in a very different tone from that in which she had uttered it once before that day.
Maggie gave a little shriek of delight which would almost have startled any one who had not known Maggie's ways, or seen her sparkling face.
"Oh! goody! goody! goody!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands and hopping about in a kind of ecstasy. "How lovely! how splendid! how—how—superfluous!" Maggie had been trying to find the longest "grown-up" word she could think of, and as she had that morning heard her father say that something was "altogether superfluous," she now used the word without a proper idea of its meaning.
But the colonel was quite content to take the word as she meant it, and thanked her for her joyous sympathy. He knew that Bessie felt none the less because she was more quiet. She walked round and round him, looking at him as if she could not believe it, and then going up to him, took his hand in both hers, and laid her smooth, soft cheek upon it in a pretty, tender way which said more than words.
"Do let's see you walk a little more," said Maggie. "It's so nice; it's just like a fairy tale, when a good fairy comes and mends allthe people that have been chopped to pieces, and makes them just as good as ever; only this is true and that is not."
"Who put it on?" asked Bessie, meaning the new leg.
"Starr put it on," answered the colonel.
"And did you make it, too, Starr?" asked Bessie.
"No, indeed, miss;" said Starr, who still stood at the door with his hat in his hand, and his head on one side, looking at his master much as a proud nurse might look at her baby who was trying its first steps,—"no, indeed, miss; that was beyond me."
"Starr would have given me one of his own, if he could have done so, I believe," said the colonel, smiling.
"So would I," said Maggie, "if mine would have fitted. I think I could do very well with one foot; I hop a good deal, any way. See, I could do this way;" and she began hopping round the table again.
"And you run and skip a good deal," saidMrs. Rush, "and how could you do all that on one foot?"
Maggie considered a moment. "But I am very attached to the colonel," she said, "and I think I could give up one foot if it would be of use to him."
"I believe you would, my generous little girl," said the colonel; and Mrs. Rush stooped and kissed Maggie very affectionately.
"Will that new foot walk in the street?" asked Maggie.
"Yes, it will walk anywhere when I'm accustomed to it. But I am a little awkward just yet, and must practise some before I venture on it in the street."
It seemed almost too good to be true, that the colonel should be sitting there with two feet, which certainly looked quite as well as papa's or Uncle Ruthven's, or those of any other gentleman; and it was long before his affectionate little friends tired of looking at him and expressing their pleasure.
"We have some very good news for you,"said Bessie; "mamma said we might tell you."
"Let us have it then," said the colonel; and the grand secret about Uncle Ruthven and Aunt Bessie was told.
"I just believe you knew it before," said Maggie, who thought Colonel and Mrs. Rush did not seem as much surprised as was to be expected.
"I am afraid we did, Maggie," said the colonel, smiling; "but we are none the less pleased to hear Bessie tell of it."
"But if Uncle Yuthven did it for a favor to us, why did he not tell us first?" said Bessie, rather puzzled.
"Well," said the colonel, with a little twinkle in his eye, "it is just possible that your Uncle Ruthven took some other people into consideration,—myself and Marion, for instance. Can you not imagine that he thought it would be very pleasant for us to be related to you?"
"Will you be our yelations when Uncle Yuthven marries Aunt Bessie?" asked Bessie.
"I think we shall have to put in some claim of that sort," said the colonel. "Aunt Bessie is my sister, and if she becomes your own aunt, I think my wife and I must also consider ourselves as belonging to the family. What should you say to Uncle Horace and Aunt May?"—May was the colonel's pet name for his wife.
It was not likely that either of our little girls would find fault with this arrangement; and now it was impossible to say too much in praise of Uncle Ruthven and his very kind plan.
The children spent a most delightful day. Mrs. Rush had ordered an early dinner for them; after which the carriage came, and all four—the colonel and his wife and Maggie and Bessie—went for a drive in the Central Park. It was a lovely afternoon, the air so soft and sweet with that strange, delicious scent in it which tells of the coming spring, and here and there, in some sunny nooks, the children were delighted to see little patchesof green grass. Sparrows and chickadees, and other birds which make their home with us during the winter, were hopping merrily over the leafless branches, and twittering ceaselessly to one another, as if they were telling of the happy time near at hand, when the warm south winds would blow, and the trees and bushes be covered with their beautiful green summer dress. Presently Starr, turning round from his seat on the box beside the coachman, pointed out a robin, the first robin; and then Maggie's quick eyes discovered a second. Yes, there were a pair of them, perking up their heads and tails, with a saucy, jaunty air, which seemed to say, "Look at me; here I am to tell you spring is coming. Are you not glad to see me?"
And as the carriage drove slowly by, that the children might watch the birds, one of them threw back his head and broke into the sweetest, merriest song, which told the same pleasant story.
Yes, spring was in the air, and the birdiesknew it, though earth as yet showed but few signs of it.
"He sings just as if he was so glad he couldn't help it," said Maggie, "and I feel just like him."
When they drove back to the city, the children were rather surprised to find they were taken again to the hotel instead of going home at once; but Mrs. Rush said, that as the weather was so mild and pleasant, mamma had promised they might stay till after dark. This was a suitable ending to such a very happy day, especially as it was arranged for them to take their supper while their friends dined. Mrs. Rush thought nothing too much trouble which could give pleasure to these two dear little girls.
They were listening to one of the colonel's delightful stories when Mr. Stanton and Miss Rush came in, with the double purpose of paying a short visit to the colonel and his wife and of taking home their young visitors.
Scarcely were they seated when Bessiewalked up to Mr. Stanton with "Uncle Er-er-er-Yuthven,"—Bessie was trying very hard for the R's in these days, especially when she spoke to her uncle,—"we do thank you so very much. We think you are the most obliging gentleman we ever saw."
"Really," said Uncle Ruthven, gravely, "this is very pleasant to hear. May I ask who are the 'we' who have such a very high opinion of me?"
"Why, mamma and the colonel and Mrs. Yush and Maggie and I; and I s'pose all the fam'ly who know what a very great favor you are going to do for us."
"And what is this wonderful favor?" asked Mr. Stanton.
"To marry Aunt Bessie, so she will be quite our very own," answered the little girl. "And then you see that makes my soldier and Mrs. Yush our own too. They are Uncle Horace and Aunt May now, for the colonel said we might as well begin at once. We are all very, very pleased, Uncle Yuthven, andMaggie and I think you are the kindest uncle that ever lived."
"I am glad you have found that out at last," said Uncle Ruthven. "Here I have been living for your happiness ever since I came home, and if I had made this last sacrifice without your finding out that I am the best and most generous uncle in the world, it would have been terrible indeed."
"I don't believe you think it is a sacrifice," said Maggie. "I guess you like it 'most as well as Bessie and I do."
"Doeshe, Aunt Bessie?" asked little Bessie, in a tone as if this could not be; at which Uncle Ruthven's gravity gave way, and the older people all laughed heartily, though the children could not see why.
If Bessie had known how to express her feelings, she would have said that it was Uncle Ruthven's manner when he was joking which caused her to "have objections" to him. When Uncle John was joking, he had such a merry face that it was quite easy to seewhat he meant; but Uncle Ruthven always kept such a sober face and tone that it was hard to tell whether he were in earnest or no. And now, when he caught her up in his arms, and stood her upon the mantel-piece, she felt as if she still only half approved of him; but it was not in her heart to find fault with him just now, and she readily put up her lips for the kiss which she knew he would claim before he let her go.
Decoration, end of chap. X
Title decoration chap. XI
Title decoration chap. XI
Maggie and Bessie," said Mrs. Bradford, one day soon after this, "I am going to send Jane over with some work to Mrs. Granby. Would you like to go with her and see the policeman's children?"
Bessie answered "Yes," readily enough, but though Maggie would have liked the long walk on this lovely day, she was rather doubtful of the pleasure of calling on those who were entire strangers to her. But after some little coaxing from Bessie, who said she would not go without her, she was at last persuaded, and they set out with Jane, taking Flossy with them.
The children had their hooples, which they trundled merrily before them and Flossy wentcapering joyously along, sometimes running ahead, for a short distance, and then rushing back to his little mistresses, and if any rough boys made their appearance, keeping very close at their side till all danger was past. For since Flossy was stolen, he had been very careful as to the company he kept, and looked with a very suspicious eye upon any one who wore a ragged coat, which was not very just of Flossy, since a ragged coat may cover as true and honest a heart as ever beat; but as the poor puppy knew no better, and had received some hard treatment at the hands of those whose miserable garments covered hard and cruel hearts, he must be excused for thinking that the one was a sign of the other.
Flossy had turned out quite as pretty a little dog as he had promised to be. His coat was long, soft, and silky, and beautifully marked in brown and white; his drooping ears hung gracefully on each side of his head, while his great black eyes were so knowing and affectionate that it was hard to believe nosoul looked out of them. It was no wonder that almost every child they passed turned to take a second look, and to wish that they, too, had such a pretty merry pet. Flossy was in great favor that day on account of a droll trick which he had played, much to the amusement of the children. Harry and Fred were very anxious to teach him all manner of things, such as standing on his head, pretending to be dead, and so forth; but Maggie and Bessie declared he was too young to be taught anything except "to be good and polite," and would not have him teased. Beside, he had funny tricks and ways of his own which they thought much better than those, and was as full of play and mischief as a petted doggie could be.
Harry had a weak ankle, which in his boyish frolics he was constantly hurting, and now, having given it a slight sprain, he was laid up on the sofa. On the day before this, his dinner had been sent to him, but as it did not exactly suit him, he called Flossy, andwriting on a piece of paper what he desired, gave it to the dog, and told him to take it to mamma. He was half doubtful if the creature would understand; but Flossy ran directly to the dining-room with the paper in his mouth, and gave it to Mrs. Bradford. As a reward for doing his errand so well, she gave him a piece of cake, although it was against her rules that he should be fed from the table.
On this day, Harry had been able to come down-stairs; and while the children were at their dinner, Flossy was heard whining at the door. Patrick opened it, and in he ran with a crumpled piece of paper, on which Franky had been scribbling, in his mouth, and going to Mrs. Bradford held it up to her, wagging his tail with an air which said quite plainly, "Here is your paper, now give me my cake."
"Poor little doggie! He did not know why one piece of paper was not as good as another, and Mrs. Bradford could not refuse him, while all the children were quite delightedwith his wisdom, and could not make enough of him for the remainder of the day."
Maggie and Bessie were rather surprised at the appearance of the policeman's house. It was so different from those which stood around it, or from any which they were accustomed to see in the city; but it looked very pleasant to them with its green shutters, old-fashioned porch, and the little courtyard and great butternut tree in front. The small plot of grass behind the white palings was quite green now, and some of the buds on the hardier bushes were beginning to unfold their young leaves. Altogether it looked very nice and homelike, none the less so that Jennie Richards and her three younger brothers were playing around, and digging up the fresh moist earth, with the fancy that they were making a garden. But their digging was forgotten when they saw Jane with her little charge.
"Does Mrs. Granby live here?" asked Jane, unlatching the gate.
"Yes, ma'am," answered Jennie. "Will you please to walk in?" and opening the doors, Jennie showed the visitors into the sitting-room.
Mrs. Richards sat sewing, with Willie, as usual, beside her, rocking ceaselessly back and forth in his little chair; while good Mrs. Granby, who had been seated close by the window, and had seen Jane and the children come in, was bustling about, placing chairs for them.
On Willie's knee was a Maltese kitten purring away contentedly; but the moment she caught sight of Flossy, she sprang from her resting-place, and, scampering into a corner, put up her back, and began spitting and hissing in a very impolite manner. If Miss Pussy had been civil, Flossy would probably have taken no notice of her; but when she drew attention upon herself by this very rude behavior, he began to bark and jump about her, more with a love of teasing than with any idea of hurting her. It was quite a momentor two before these enemies could be quieted, and then it was only done by Maggie catching up Flossy in her arms, and Mrs. Granby thrusting the kitten into a bureau drawer with a cuff on its ear.
The commotion being over, with the exception of an occasional spit from the drawer, as if kitty were still conscious of the presence of her foe, Bessie walked up to Mrs. Richards, and politely holding out her hand, said, "We came to see you and your fam'ly, ma'am, and we're sorry to make such a 'sturbance."
"Well," said Mrs. Richards, smiling at what she afterwards called Bessie's old-fashioned ways,—"well, I think it was the kitten was to blame for the disturbance, not you, nor your pretty dog there; and I'm sure we're all glad to see you, dear. Are you the little girl that was lost and taken up to the station?"
"Yes, I am," said Bessie; "but I was not taken up 'cause I was naughty, but 'cause I could not find my way home. Is my policeman pretty well?"
"He's very well, thank you, dear; but he'll be mighty sorry to hear you've been here, and he not home to see you."
"Mother," said Willie, "what a sweet voice that little girl has! Will she let me touch her?"
"Would you, dear?" asked Mrs. Richards; "you see it's the only way he has now of finding what anybody is like."
"Oh! he may touch me as much as he likes," said Bessie, and coming close to the blind boy, she put her hand in his, and waited patiently while he passed his fingers up her arm and shoulder, then over her curls, cheek, and chin; for Willie Richards was already gaining that quick sense of touch which God gives to the blind.
The mother's heart was full as she watched the two children, and saw the tender, pitying gaze Bessie bent upon her boy.
"Poor Willie!" said the little girl, putting her arm about his neck, "I am so sorry for you. But perhaps our Father will let you see again some day."
"I don't know," said Willie, sadly; "they used to say I would be better when the spring came, but the spring is here now, and it is no lighter. Oh, it is so very, very dark!"
Bessie's lip quivered, and the tears gathered in her eyes as she raised them to Mrs. Richards. But Mrs. Richards turned away her head. She sometimes thought that Willie had guessed that the doctor had had hopes of curing them in the spring, but she had not the courage to ask him. Nor could she and his father bear to excite hopes which might again be disappointed, by telling him to wait with patience till next year.
But Bessie did not know what made Mrs. Richards silent, and wondering that she did not speak, she felt as if she must herself say something to comfort him.
"But maybe next spring you will see, Willie," she said.
"Maybe so," said Willie, piteously, "but it is so long to wait."
Bessie was silent for a moment, not quiteknowing what to say; then she spoke again. "Wouldn't you like to come out and feel the spring, Willie? It is nice out to-day and the wind is so pleasant and warm."
"No," answered Willie, almost impatiently, "I only want to stay here with mother. I know it feels nice out; but the children come and say, 'Seethe sky, how blue it is!' and 'Lookat this flower,' when I can't see them, and it makes me feel so bad, so bad. I know the grass is green and the sky is blue, and the crocuses and violets are coming out just as they used to when I could see, but I don't want them to tell me of it all the time; and they forget, and it makes me feel worse. But I wouldn't mind the rest so much if I could only see mother's face just a little while every day, then I would be good and patient all the time. Oh! if I only could see her, just a moment!"
"Don't, don't, sonny," said his mother, laying her hand lovingly on his head.
It was the ceaseless burden of his plaintivesong,—"If I only could see mother's face! If I only could see mother's face!"
"And maybe you will some day, Willie," said Bessie; "so try to think about that, and how she loves you just the same even if you don't see her. And don't you like to know the blue sky is there, and that Jesus is behind it, looking at you and feeling sorry for you? None of us can see Jesus, but we know he sees us and loves us all the same; don't we? Couldn't you feel a little that way about your mother, Willie?"
"I'll try," said Willie, with the old patient smile coming back again.
Poor Willie! It was not usual for him to be impatient or fretful. But he had been sadly tried that day in the way he had spoken of, and the longing for his lost sight was almost too great to be borne. But now Mrs. Granby, suspecting something of what was going on on that side of the room, came bustling up to Willie and Bessie, bringing Maggie with her. Maggie had been making acquaintancewith Jennie while Bessie was talking with the blind boy.
"Willie," said Mrs. Granby, "here's just the prettiest little dog that ever lived, and he is as tame and gentle as can be. If Miss Maggie don't object, maybe he'd lie a bit on your knee, and let you feel his nice long ears and silken hair."
"Yes, take him," said Maggie, putting her dog into Willie's arms.
Flossy was not usually very willing to go to strangers; but now, perhaps, his doggish instinct told him that this poor boy had need of pity and kindness. However that was, he lay quietly in Willie's clasp, and looking wistfully into his sightless eyes, licked his hands and face.
Maggie and Bessie were delighted, and began to tell Willie of Flossy's cunning ways. The other children gathered about to listen and admire too, and presently Willie laughed outright as they told of his cute trick with the crumpled paper.
And now, whether Miss Kitty saw through the crack of the drawer that her young master was fondling a new pet, or whether she only guessed at it, or whether she thought it hard that fun should be going on in which she had no share, cannot be told; but just then there came from her prison-place such a hissing and sputtering and scratching that every one of the children set up a shout of laughter. Not since his blindness came upon him had his mother heard Willie's voice sound so gleeful, and now in her heart she blessed the dear little girl who she felt had done him good. Then as the children begged for her, kitty was released; but as she still showed much ill-temper, Mrs. Granby was obliged to put her in the other room.
Soon after this our little girls, with their nurse, took leave, having presented Willie with a new book, and his mother with some useful things mamma had sent, and giving Willie and Jennie an invitation to come and see them.
They did not go back as joyfully as they had come. Somehow, in spite of the good laugh they had had, the thought of blind Willie made them feel sad, and giving Jane their hooples to carry, they walked quietly by her side, hand in hand.
Bessie was half heart-broken as she told her mamma of the blind boy's longing to see his mother's face, and neither she nor Maggie quite recovered their usual spirits for the remainder of the day. Mamma was almost sorry she had allowed them to go.
"And what makes my princess so sad this evening?" asked Uncle Ruthven, lifting Bessie upon his knee.
"Don't you think you'd be very sad, sir, if you were blind?"
"Doubtless I should, dear. I think, of all my senses, my sight is the one I prize most, and for which I am most thankful. But you are not going to lose your sight; are you, Bessie?"
"No," said Bessie; "but Willie Richardshas lost his. He is quite, quite blind, uncle, and can't see his mother's face; and they can't let the doctor cure him, 'cause they are too poor. Maggie and I wished to help them very much, and we wanted to ask them to take all the glove-money we have,—that is what mamma lets us have to do charity with,—but mamma says it would not be much help, and she thinks we had better keep it to buy some little thing Willie may need. And we are very grieved for him."
"Poor little princess!" said Mr. Stanton. "And why did you not come to me for help? What is the good of having an old uncle with plenty of money in his pockets, if you do not make him 'do charity' for you? Let me see. How comes on the history of the 'Complete Family,' Maggie?"
"Oh! it's 'most finished," said Maggie. "At least, that book is; but we are going to have another volume. Mamma likes us to write it. She says it is good practice, and will make it easy for us to write compositions by and by."
"Very sensible of mamma," said Mr. Stanton. "But I think you said you wished to sell it when it was finished, so that you might help the poor."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you know I am going away to-morrow morning,—going to take Aunt Bessie to Baltimore to see her sister. We shall be gone about a week. If your book is finished when we come home, I shall see if I cannot find a purchaser for it. And you might use the money for the blind boy if you like."
Just at this moment nurse put her head in at the door with "Come along, my honeys. Your mamma is waiting up-stairs for you, and it's your bed-time."
"In one instant, mammy," said Mr. Stanton. "Is it a bargain, little ones? If I find a man to buy your book, will you have it ready, and trust it to me, when I come back?"
The children were willing enough to agree to this; and Maggie only wished that it wasnot bed-time, so that she might finish the book that very night. Uncle Ruthven said they would talk more about it when he returned, and bade them "Good-night."
"My darlings," said mamma, when they went up-stairs, "I do not want you to distress yourselves about blind Willie. When the time comes for the doctor to perform the operation on his eyes, I think the means will be found to pay him. But you are not to say anything about it at present. I only tell you because I do not like to see you unhappy."
"Are you or papa going to do it, mamma?" asked Bessie.
"We shall see," said Mrs. Bradford, with a smile.
"Perhaps we can help you a little," said Maggie, joyfully; and she told her mother of her uncle's proposal about the book.
Title decoration chap. XII
Title decoration chap. XII
Uncle Ruthven and Aunt Bessie went away the next morning, and were gone nearly a week, and very much did the children miss them, especially as the week proved one of storm and rain, and they were shut up in the house.
During all this stormy weather Aunt Patty seemed very anxious to go out, watching for the first glimpse of sunshine. But none came, and at last, one morning when there was a fine, drizzling rain, she came down dressed for a walk. Mrs. Bradford was much astonished, for Mrs. Lawrence was subject to rheumatism, and it was very imprudent for her to go out in the damp. In vain did Mrs. Bradford offer to send a servant on any errand shemight wish to have done. Aunt Patty would not listen to it for a moment, nor would she allow a carriage to be sent for, nor tell where she was going.
She stayed a long time, and when the boys ran home from school in the midst of a hard shower, they were surprised to meet her just getting out of a carriage which had drawn up around the corner. Aunt Patty did not seem at all pleased to see them, and in answer to their astonished inquiries, "Why, Aunt Patty! where have you been?" and "Why don't you let the carriage leave you at the house?" answered, sharply, "When I was young, old people could mind their own affairs without help from school-boys."
"Not without help from school-girls, whenshewas around, I guess," whispered Fred to his brother, as they fell behind, and let the old lady march on.
Nor was she more satisfactory when she reached home, and seemed only desirous to avoid Mrs. Bradford's kind inquiries and anxietylest she should have taken cold. This was rather strange, for it was not Aunt Patty's way to be mysterious, and she was generally quite ready to let her actions be seen by the whole world. But certainly no one would have guessed from her manner that she had that morning been about her Master's work.
Uncle Ruthven and Aunt Bessie came home that afternoon, and found no reason to doubt their welcome.
"We're very glad to see you, Uncle Er-erRuthven," said Bessie, bringing out theRquite clearly.
"Hallo!" said her uncle, "so you have come to it at last; have you? You have been learning to talk English while I was away. Pretty well for my princess! What reward shall I give you for thatRuthven?"
"I don't want a reward," said the little princess, gayly. "I tried to learn it 'cause I thought you wanted me to; and you are so kind to us I wanted to please you. Besides, I am growing pretty old, and I ought to learnto talk plain. Why, Uncle Ruthven, I'll be six years old when I have a birthday in May, and the other day we saw a little girl,—she was blind Willie's sister,—and she couldn't sayth, though she is 'most seven; and I thought it sounded pretty foolish; and then I thought maybe it sounded just as foolish for me not to sayr, so I tried and tried, and Maggie helped me."
"Uncle Ruthven," said Maggie, coming to his side, and putting her arm about his neck, she whispered in his ear, "did you ever find a man to buy my book?"
"To be sure," said Mr. Stanton, "a first-rate fellow, who promised to take it at once. He would like to know how much you want for it?"
"I don't know," said Maggie; "how much can he afford?"
"Ah! you answer my question by another. Well, he is pretty well off, that fellow, and I think he will give you sufficient to help along that blind friend of yours a little. We willnot talk of that just now, however, but when you go up-stairs, I will come up and see you, and we will settle it all then."
"Here is a prize," said Mr. Stanton, coming into the parlor some hours later, when the children had all gone; and he held up Maggie's history of the "Complete Family."
"What is that?" asked Colonel Rush, who with his wife had come to welcome his sister.
Mr. Stanton told the story of the book.
"But how came it into your hands?" asked Mr. Bradford.
"Oh, Maggie and I struck a bargain to-night," said Mr. Stanton, laughing, "and the book is mine to do as I please with."
"Oh, Ruthven, Ruthven!" said his sister, coming in as he spoke, and passing her hand affectionately through his thick, curly locks, "you have made two happy hearts to-night. Nor will the stream of joy you have set flowing stop with my little ones. That poor blind child and his parents—"
"There, there, that will do," said Mr.Stanton, playfully putting his hand on Mrs. Bradford's lips. "Sit down here, Margaret. I shall give you all some passages from Maggie's book. If I am not mistaken, it will be a rich treat."
Poor little Maggie! She did not dream, as she lay happy and contented on her pillow, how merry they were all making over her "Complete Family," as Uncle Ruthven read aloud from it such passages as these.
"The Happy father and mother brought up their children in the way they should go, but sometimes the children went out of it, which was not the blame of their kind parents, for they knew better, and they ought to be ashamed of themselves, and it is a great blessing for children to have parents.
"The colonel had a new leg, not a skin one, but a man made it, but you would not know it, it looks so real, and he can walk with it and need not take his crutches, and the souls of M. and B. Happy were very glad because this was a great rejoicing, and it is not a blessingto be lame, but to have two legs is, and when people have a great many blessings, they ought to 'praise God from whom all blessings flow;' but they don't always, which is very wicked.
"This very Complete Family grew completer and completer, for the travelling uncle married Aunt Bessie, I mean he is going to marry her, so she will be our own aunt and not just a make b'lieve, and all the family are very glad and are very much obliged to him for being so kind, but I don't think he is a great sacrifice.
"M. and B. Happy went to see the policeman's children. Blind Willie was sorrowful and can't see his mother, or anything, which is no consequence, if he could see his mother's face, for if M. Happy and B. Happy could not see dear mamma's face they would cry all the time. I mean M. would, but Bessie is better than me so maybe she would not, and Willie is very patient, and the cat was very abominable, and if Flossy did so, Bessie and I wouldbe disgraced of him. She humped up her back and was cross, so Mrs. Granby put her in the drawer, but she put a paw out of the crack and spit and scratched and did 'most everything. Oh! such a bad cat!!!!!! Jennie she cannot say th, and afterwards I laughed about it, but Bessie said I ought not, because she cannot say r and that was 'most the same. And she is going to try and say Uncle Ruthven's name quite plain and hard, he is so very good to us, and he promised to find a man to buy this book, and we hope the man will give five dollars to be a great help for blind Willie's doctor. I suppose he will ask everybody in the cars if they want to buy a book to print, that somebody of his wrote, but he is not going to tell our name because I asked him not to."
The book ended in this way:—
"These are not all the acts of the Complete Family, but there will be another book with some more. Adieu. And if you don't know French, that means good-by. The end of the book!"
"Pretty well for seven years old, I think," said Mr. Bradford. "Mamma, did you lend a helping hand?"
"Only to correct the spelling," said Mrs. Bradford; "the composition and ideas are entirely Maggie's own, with a little help from Bessie. I have not interfered save once or twice when she has chosen some subject I did not think it best she should write on. Both she and Bessie have taken so much pleasure in it that I think it would have been a real trial to part with the book except for some such object as they have gained."
"And what is that?" asked Colonel Rush.
"The sum Dr. Dawson asks for the cure of Willie Richards," answered Mrs. Bradford, "which sum this dear brother of mine is allowing to pass through the hands of these babies of mine, as their gift to the blind child."
"Aunt Patty," said Bessie at the breakfast-table the next morning,—"Aunt Patty, did you hear what Uncle Ruthven did for us?"
"Yes, I heard," said the old lady, shortly.
"And don't you feel very happy with us?" asked the little darling, who was anxious that every one should rejoice with herself and Maggie; but she spoke more timidly than she had done at first, and something of her old fear of Aunt Patty seemed to come over her.
"I do not think it at all proper that children should be allowed to have such large sums of money," said Mrs. Lawrence, speaking not to Bessie, but to Mrs. Bradford. "I thought your brother a more sensible man, Margaret. Such an ill-judged thing!"
Mrs. Bradford was vexed, as she saw the bright face of her little daughter become overcast, still she tried to speak pleasantly. Something had evidently gone wrong with Aunt Patty.
"I do not think you will find Ruthven wanting in sense or judgment, Aunt Patty," she said, gently. "And the sum you speak of is for a settled purpose. It only passesthrough my children's hands, and is not theirs to waste or spend as they may please."
"And if it was, we would rather give it to blind Willie, mamma," said Bessie, in a grieved and half-angry voice.
"I am sure of it, my darling," said mamma, with a nod and smile which brought comfort to the disappointed little heart. Ah, the dear mamma! they were all sure of sympathy from her whether in joy or sorrow. Aunt Patty's want of it had been particularly hard on Bessie, for the dear child saw the old lady did not look half pleased that morning, and she had spoken as much from a wish to cheer her as for her own sake and Maggie's.
"It is all wrong, decidedly wrong!" continued Mrs. Lawrence. "In my young days things were very different. Children were not then allowed to take the lead in every way, and to think they could do it as well or better than their elders. The proper thing for you to do, Margaret, is to put by that money till your children are older and better able to judge what they are doing."
"I think they understand that now, Aunt Patty," said Mrs. Bradford, quietly, but firmly; "and if they should not, I suppose you will allow that their parents are able to judge for them. Henry and I understand all the merits of the present case."
Aunt Patty was not to be convinced, and she talked for some time, growing more and more vexed as she saw her words had no effect. Mr. and Mrs. Bradford were silent, for they knew it was of no use to argue with the old lady when she was in one of these moods; but they wished that the meal was at an end, and the children were out of hearing.
And there sat Miss Rush, too, wondering and indignant, and only kept from replying to Aunt Patty by Mrs. Bradford's beseeching look. But at last Mr. Bradford's patience was at an end, and in a firm, decided manner, he requested the old lady to say nothing more on the subject, but to leave it to be settled by his wife and himself.
If there was any person in the world ofwhom Mrs. Lawrence stood in awe, it was her nephew; and she knew when he spoke in that tone, he meant to be obeyed. Therefore, she was silent, but sat through the remainder of breakfast with a dark and angry face.
"Papa," said Maggie, as her father rose from the table, "do you think there is the least, least hope that it will clear to-day?"
"Well, I see some signs of it, dear; but these April days are very uncertain. Of one thing be sure, if the weather be at all fit, I will come home and take you where you want to go."
"Are you tired of being shut up in the house so long, dear Midget?" asked Aunt Bessie, putting her arm about Maggie, and drawing her to her side.
"Yes, pretty tired, Aunt Bessie; but that is not the reason why Bessie and I wish so very much to have it clear. Papa told us, if the weather was pleasant, he would take us to the policeman's, and let us give the money ourselves. But he says, if it keeps on raining,he thinks it would be better to send it, because it is not kind to keep them waiting when they feel so badly about Willie, and this will make them so glad. I suppose it is not very kind, but we want very much to take it, and see Mrs. Richards how pleased she will be."
"We will hope for the best," said Mr. Bradford, cheerfully; "and I think it may turn out a pleasant day. But my little daughters must not be too much disappointed if the rain keeps on. And now that I may be ready for clear skies and dry pavements, I must go down town at once."
No sooner had the door closed after Mr. Bradford than Aunt Patty broke forth again. "Margaret," she said, severely, "it is not possible that you mean to add to your folly by letting your children go to that low place, after such weather as we have had! You don't know what you may expose them to, especially that delicate child, whom you can never expect to be strong while you are so shamefullycareless of her;" and she looked at Bessie, who felt very angry.
"That will be as their father thinks best," answered Mrs. Bradford, quietly. "He will not take them unless the weather is suitable; and the policeman's house is neat and comfortable, and in a decent neighborhood. The children will come to no harm there."
"And it is certainly going to clear," said Harry. "See there, mamma, how it is brightening overhead."
"It will not clear for some hours at least," persisted the old lady; "and then the ground will be extremely damp after this week of rain, especially among those narrow streets. Do be persuaded, Margaret, and say, at least, that the children must wait till to-morrow."
"Bessie shall not go unless it is quite safe for her," answered Mrs. Bradford, "and she will not ask it unless mamma thinks it best; will you, my darling?"
Bessie only replied with a smile, and a very feeble smile at that; and her mother saw bythe crimson spot in each cheek, and the little hand pressed tightly upon her lips, how hard the dear child was struggling with herself. It was so. Bessie was hurt at what she thought Aunt Patty's unkindness in trying to deprive her of the pleasure on which she counted, and she had hard work to keep down the rising passion.
Aunt Patty argued, persisted, and persuaded; but she could gain from Mrs. Bradford nothing more than she had said before, and at last she left the room in high displeasure.
"Mamma," said Harry, indignantly, "what do you stand it for? How dare she talk so to you? Your folly, indeed! I wish papa had been here!"
"I wish you'd let me hush her up," said Fred. "It's rather hard for a fellow to stand by and have his mother spoken to that way. Now is she not a meddling, aggravating old coon, Aunt Bessie? No, you need not shake your head in that grave, reproving way. Iknow you think so; and you, too, you dear, patient little mamma;" and here Fred gave his mother such a squeeze and kiss as would have made any one else cry out for mercy.
"I sha'n't try to bear Aunt Patty's burden this day, I know," said Maggie. "She istoomean not to want blind Willie cured, and it is not any of hers to talk about, either. Her corners are awful to-day! Just trying to make mamma say Bessie couldn't go to the policeman's house!"
Bessie said nothing, but her mamma saw she was trying to keep down her angry feelings.
"I suppose she is tired of the 'new leaf' she pretended to have turned over, and don't mean to play good girl any more," said Fred.
"She has been worrying papa too," said Harry. "There is never any knowing what she'll be at. There was a grove which used to belong to her father, and which had been sold by one of her brothers after he died. It was a favorite place with our great-grandfather, and AuntPatty wanted it back very much, but she never could persuade the man who had bought it to give it up. A few years ago he died, and his son offered to sell it to her. She could not afford it then, for she had lost a great deal of property, and the mean chap asked a very large sum for it because he knew she wanted it so much. But she was determined to have it, and for several years she has been putting by little by little till she should have enough. She told Fred and me all about it, one evening when papa and mamma were out, and we felt so sorry for her when she told how her father had loved the place, and how she could die contented if she only had it back once more after all these years, that we asked papa if he could not help her. Papa said he would willingly do so, but she would not be pleased if he offered, though she had so set her heart on it that she was denying herself everything she could possibly do without; for she is not well off now, and is too proud to let her friends help herWell, it seems she had enough laid by at last,—a thousand dollars,—and she asked papa to settle it all for her. He wrote to the man, and had a lot of fuss and bother with him; but it was all fixed at last, and the papers drawn up, when what does she do a week ago, but tell papa she had changed her mind, and should not buy the grove at present."
"Harry, my boy," said Mrs. Bradford, "this is all so, but how do you happen to know so much about it?"
"Why, she talked to me several times about it, mamma. She was quite chipper with Fred and me now and then, when no grown people were around, and used to tell us stories of things which happened at the old homestead by the hour. The other day when you were out, and Mag and Bess had gone to the policeman's, she told me it was all settled that she was to have the grove; and she seemed so happy over it. But only two days after, when I said something about it, she took me up quite short, and told me that affair was allover, and no more to be said. I didn't dare to ask any more questions of her, but I thought it no harm to ask papa, and he told me he knew no more than I did, for Aunt Patty would give him no reason. He was dreadfully annoyed by it, I could see, although he did not say much; he never does, you know, when he is vexed."
"Quite true," said his mother; "and let him be an example to the rest of us. We have all forgotten ourselves a little in the vexations of the morning. You have been saying that which was better left unsaid, and your mother has done wrong in listening to you."
"No, indeed, you have not," said Fred, again clutching his mother violently about the neck; "you never do wrong, you dear, precious mamma, and I'll stand up for you against all the cross old Aunt Pattys in creation."
"My dear boy," gasped his mother, "if you could leave my head on, it would be a greater convenience than fighting on my account withAunt Patty. And your mother must be very much on her guard, Fred, if a thing is to be judged right by you because she does it. But, dearest children, did we not all determine not to allow ourselves to be irritated and vexed by such things as have taken place this morning? This is almost the first trial of the kind we have had. Let us be patient and forgiving, and try to think no more of it."
But it was in vain that Mrs. Bradford coaxed and persuaded, and even reproved. Her children obeyed, and were silent when she forbade any more to be said on the subject; but she could not do away with the impression which Aunt Patty's ill-temper and interference had made.
Poor Aunt Patty! She had practised a great piece of self-denial, had given up a long-cherished hope, that she might have the means of doing a very kind action; but she did not choose to have it known by her friends. And having made up her mind to this, and given up so much to bring it about,it did seem hard that her arrangements should be interfered with, as they seemed likely to be by this new plan which had come to her ears the night before.
But now as she stood alone in her own room, taking herself to task for the ill-temper she had just shown, she felt that it would be still harder for the children; she could not allow them to be disappointed if it were still possible to prevent it; that would be too cruel now that she saw so plainly how much they had set their hearts upon this thing. At first it had seemed to her, as she said, much better that they should put by the money until they were older, but now she saw it was the desire to carry out her own will which had led her to think this. But Aunt Patty was learning to give up her own will, slowly and with difficulty it might be, with many a struggle, many a failure, as had been shown this morning; but still, thanks to the whispers of the better spirit by whose teachings she had lately been led, she was taking to heart thelesson so hard to learn because so late begun.
And now how was she to undo what she had done, so that Maggie and Bessie might still keep this matter in their own hands? For Aunt Patty, hearing the little ones talk so much of the blind boy and his parents, had become quite interested in the policeman's family. She did not know them, it was true, had never seen one of them, but the children's sympathy had awakened hers, and she felt a wish to do something to help them; but to do this to much purpose was not very easy for Mrs. Lawrence. She was not rich, and what she gave to others she must take from her own comforts and pleasures. What a good thing it would be to pay Dr. Dawson and free the policeman from debt! What happiness this would bring to those poor people! What pleasure it would give little Maggie and Bessie! But how could she do it? She had not the means at present, unless, indeed, she put off the purchase of the grove for a year or two,and took part of the sum she had so carefully laid by for that purpose, and if she did so, she might never have back the grove. She was very old, had not probably many years to live, and she might pass away before the wished-for prize was her own. And these people were nothing to her; why should she make such a sacrifice for them?
So thought Aunt Patty, and then said to herself, if she had but a short time upon earth, was there not more reason that she should spend it in doing all she could for her Master's service, in helping those of his children on whom he had laid pain and sorrows? She had been wishing that she might be able to prove her love and gratitude for the great mercy that had been shown to her, that she might yet redeem the wasted years, the misspent life which lay behind her, and now when the Lord had given her the opportunity for which she had been longing, should she turn her back upon it, should she shut her ear to the cry of the needy, because to answer it would cost asacrifice of her own wishes? Should she bear the burdens of others only when they did not weigh heavily on herself?
And so the old lady had gone to Dr. Dawson and paid him the sum he asked for curing Willie's eyes. What more she had done will be shown hereafter. If the children had known this, perhaps they could have guessed why she would not buy the grove after all papa's trouble. There were several reasons why Mrs. Lawrence had chosen to keep all this a secret; partly from a really honest desire not to parade her generosity in the eyes of men, partly because she thought that Mr. Bradford might oppose it, and fearing the strength of her own resolution, she did not care to have it shaken by any persuasions to the contrary, and partly because she had always rather prided herself on carrying out her own plans without help or advice from others. This fear that she might be tempted to change her purpose had also made Aunt Patty so anxious to bring it to an end at once,and had taken her out in the rain on the day before this. And now it seemed that her trouble so far as regarded Dr. Dawson was all thrown away. But the question was, how should she get the money back from the doctor without betraying herself to him or some of the family? for this Aunt Patty was quite determined not to do. It was not a pleasant task to ask him to return the money she had once given, and that without offering any reason save that she had changed her mind. Every limb was aching with the cold taken from her exposure of yesterday, and now if she was to be in time, she must go out again in the damp. True, it was not raining now, but there was another heavy cloud coming up in the south; she should surely be caught in a fresh shower. If she could have persuaded Mrs. Bradford to keep the children at home until the next day, she could go to Dr. Dawson that afternoon if the weather were clear, and so escape another wetting. For the doctor had told her he did not think he could see the policeman before the evening of that day.