CHAPTER VII
Uncle Heath
The little girl's thoughts upon first awakening were concerning Bubbles. She slipped out of bed and as she jumped upon the braided mat which lay upon the floor the noise informed Mrs. Snyder that she was up and her pleasant face appeared at the door. "Scramble back again, honey," she said, "till I get this fire stirred up. The room will be warm in a jiffy if I put in a stick of wood and open the drafts. Mr. Snyder's gone to hunt up them gipsies; he'll be back by the time you're ready for breakfast. Can you dress yourself? If you want me to fasten any buttons, just run down to the kitchen. I've some bread in the oven and I must be looking after it."
Eleanor hurried to dress, for she was very anxious to hear if Bubbles had been seen by the gipsies, and she was at the kitchen window watching for Mr. Snyder when he drove up. He entered the room in his usual hearty blustering way. "Breakfast ready, mother?" he asked.
"All ready. I'm dishing up now."
"Hallo, little one!" Mr. Snyder drew Eleanor to his knee. "Well, I've been to the gipsy camp, and they've cleared out; every hoof. It is getting too late for them and they want to get south. I'm sorry but it don't seem to me that Bubbles could be with them; more likely she's with some of the darkies in town."
Eleanor shook her head. "No, she wouldn't go to any of them, 'cause she told me she meant to come out here to Sylvy, for Sylvy said when she left, if Bubbles couldn't get along with Cousin Ellen she could come to her. You see, she's known Bubbles all her life; ever since Bubbles was a baby, and it isn't likely she'd go to any one else."
"That's so." Mr. Snyder nodded thoughtfully. "And you say that little gipsy girl told you there was a colored child at the camp?"
"Yes," Eleanor answered.
"Those gipsies have been about here for a couple of weeks. I mind just when they came. Yes, it might be her. Well, Sylvy's coming over after a bit, and we'll see what she says about it. It seems to me if the child the gipsies had was Bubbles, that they would have let Sylvy know, or would have sent the child to her. Come now, breakfast is ready."
It was impossible, even with this anxiety of mind, not to enjoy Mrs. Snyder's delicious rolls and sweet butter, her honey and her country sausage, and Eleanor really ate heartily, although she was not feeling very well, and her cough troubled her. Mrs. Snyder suggested all sorts of queer remedies, chief among which was a decoction made from a hornet's nest which Eleanor rejected emphatically. "Oh, please, Mrs. Snyder, I shouldn't want that. It might make me feel a buzzy and stingy inside."
Mrs. Snyder laughed, and just then Sylvy came in. Eleanor greeted her joyfully. "Oh, Sylvy," she said, "I'm so glad to see you, but where do you suppose poor Bubbles is? I feel so dreadfully about her."
"Me too, honey," said Sylvy. "It on mah min' all de time. Tell me jes' how it happen she quit Miss Murdoch." And Eleanor related her woeful little tale which brought many "uh-uhms" and "dar nows," from Sylvy.
"I git mah fathah to go 'roun' an' fin' out what he kin," said Sylvy, after Eleanor had concluded, "an' if nobody ain't seen her I'll reckon she's the one the gipsy folks has. How long yuh gwine stay here, honey?"
"I wish I could stay here till I hear from mamma. I like Mrs. Snyder and she says I am to stay to-day, anyhow."
She seemed so much brighter that morning that Mrs. Snyder's fears that she might have a very ill child on her hands were allayed, and Mr. Snyder joked with her saying he believed it was a disappointment to his wife not to have secured some one needing her nursing.
"Now, father," Mrs. Snyder protested, "it isn't that, but I'd like to keep the child here."
"So you shall, till we hear what the doctor says. If she's got the whoops she can't go back to school and she'll not be very welcome at Mrs. Murdoch's, I'll venture to say."
It was about noon that the doctor's buggy drove up. Sylvy, who had been giving Mrs. Snyder a helping hand in the kitchen, caught sight of the doctor's white horse. "Hyar come Dr. Sullivan," she said. "I knows that white horse of his'n."
Eleanor ran to the window. "It is Dr. Sullivan, and he is coming here. There is some one with him; I wonder who it is."
"Miss Murdoch?"
"No, not Cousin Ellen; it is a man; I see his hat."
"Don't run out in the cold hall," Mrs. Snyder warned her. "The doctor will ride around to the side porch and I'll take him into the settin'-room. I'm glad there's a good fire in there, for it's snapping cold this morning."
Eleanor waited till she heard the doctor's hearty voice say: "I'll have you up for kidnapping, Mrs. Snyder. Where's that little girl of mine? Bless her heart, why didn't she come tell me her troubles? Here is somebody she'll be glad to see, if I'm not mistaken."
At this Eleanor ran in to see, not only her friend the doctor, but her dearly loved Uncle Heath. With a cry of joy she threw herself into the arms of the latter, forgetting every one else.
"Here, here," cried the doctor, "I want some of those kisses; don't give them all away. Look here, baby, what's all this row about, anyhow? What did you cut and run for?"
Eleanor hung her head, and then, by dint of questioning, they reached the root of the matter. The two men looked at each other, and the doctor said under his breath: "I'd like to have the dosing of that boy for about a week."
"Oh, Uncle Heath, you won't let me go back to Cousin Ellen, will you?" Eleanor said with entreaty in her tones.
He took her up in his lap and stroked her hair. "No, Miss Dimps, I have come on purpose to take you back home with me. On our way from California your Aunt Dora and I stopped to see your father and mother, and I have my pockets full of love for you." He did not say that Rock had sent his mother Eleanor's pitiful little letter and on account of this, more than anything else, Mrs. Heath Dallas and her husband had hurried home that Eleanor might come to them.
The little girl's hand stole into her uncle's pocket as if to gather up some of the love of which he spoke, and she nestled closer to him.
"Imagine my surprise when I called upon Mrs. Murdoch last evening to be told that you were not there," her Uncle Heath went on. "I was referred to our good friend, Dr. Sullivan, and here we are, ready to pick you up and carry you back with us."
"Weren't you s'prised not to see Sylvy or Bubbles come to the door at our house? And, oh, doesn't it look queer with the furniture in the parlor all switched around in a different way from that mamma used to have it?"
"I'm afraid those things made very little impression on me, for I was very anxious to see my little niece and didn't think of any one else. Now, how soon can you be ready to go back with me?"
A fit of coughing brought from the doctor: "Here, here, what is that? The child has the whooping-cough."
"Yes," said Eleanor between her gasps, "Mrs. Snyder told me so."
"Then, that settles it; you can't go back to Mrs. Murdoch. She'd sweep you out with a broom, and then go into hysterics for fear her children had caught the disease."
"Do you suppose they have?"
"I can't say; it is not improbable, but at all events, you'd best not go back there. Mrs. Sullivan will keep you till you are ready to take your journey, I am sure."
"Sylvy can go in with me," Uncle Heath said. "She knows where your traps are, I suppose, and she can help Mrs. Murdoch to get them ready for you. Your mamma said all your toys and such things of yours as might be in the way, were to be locked up in your little house in the yard."
"Oh,"—Eleanor exclaimed, and then stopped short.
"What's the matter?" asked her uncle.
"Why, Donald has that, and it's so dirty and battered up out there."
"How is that? What is Donald doing out there? Did your mamma say he was to use your playhouse?"
Eleanor explained, and Uncle Heath's eyes snapped as he said, "We'll let Sylvy go in and clean it up; then she can carry back your belongings and set them in place. I'll have a Yale lock put on the door and the windows boarded up. I have a letter from your mamma in which she tells exactly what is to be done, and there will be no trouble in carrying out her wishes, I think."
"Uncle Heath, you are a darling, but I wish you'd do just one thing more."
"And what is that?"
"Let Rock come home from boarding-school; he isn't having a bit of a nice time."
"I know it, and although boys aren't usually sent away from home to school to have a good time, he is coming away for the Christmas holidays and will not return. I suppose you'd like me to carry Sylvy, and perhaps the doctor, back with me," he said, pinching her cheek.
"Yes, I should like that."
"Leave me out," said the doctor, "I can't neglect my practice for any youngster's whims."
"But you will try to find Bubbles, won't you, Uncle Heath?" Eleanor asked wistfully. "Do you suppose she could be in Baltimore at the hospital? You know Zula said her brother had taken a little colored girl to a hospital."
"What do you think, doctor?"
"She might be in Baltimore or in Washington. I'll tell you what I'll do, Dimple; I'll telegraph to the different hospitals in both cities as soon as I get back home, and we'll find out I think without doubt. By the way, what is Bubbles' name?"
Eleanor looked at Sylvy. "It's Barbara, but I never thought about her having any other name."
"It's Markey," said Sylvy.
The doctor took out his notebook and jotted it down, and then repeated his assurance that he would use every effort to find out what had become of Bubbles.
Then it was settled that they should start the next morning. Sylvy went in bright and early and the little playhouse was made as clean as hands could make it, and it must be confessed that she took great satisfaction in turning out Master Donald and in re-establishing Eleanor's toys in their accustomed places. To be sure Donald blustered and was inclined to do battle for the possession of the house, but a few words from Mr. Heath Dallas settled the matter and his mother assuring him that he could now have Eleanor's room he was pacified.
"He's not really a bad boy," her Uncle Heath told Eleanor, "but he is spoiled, and has been made to believe that every one should yield to him, so he has become very selfish and cannot imagine any rights that conflict with his wishes."
"Rock isn't that way."
"No, he has a wise mother."
Rock was Mr. Heath Dallas' stepson. He and Eleanor were great friends, and she looked forward with great delight to seeing him again. She was planning many happy times with him and with her Cousin Florence who lived not far from Mr. Heath Dallas. She asked her uncle if he thought Rock had had the whooping-cough. "Suppose he hasn't," she said.
"To be sure, I hadn't thought of that. I am pretty sure he has though, and at any rate, we'll take it for granted, and if he hasn't we can settle the question before he gets home."
"I could go to Aunt Nellie's, you know."
"Yes, but I hope we can keep you with us till your papa and mamma return."
Eleanor gave a little satisfied sigh. Her uncle had driven out from town to take her back with him, and she was about to take leave of good Mr. and Mrs. Snyder. Ada, attired in her grey traveling dress, and carrying her muff, was ready to go, and Sylvy had pressed so many cakes, apples and such things upon the child that she had to leave half of them behind her. To Sylvy, even the shortest journey demanded a supply of eatables.
The doctor had made every effort to discover the whereabouts of Bubbles, but had received no news of her from any of the hospitals.
"If she is still with the gipsies, she would hardly have reached the city yet," Eleanor was told for her comfort. "You may find her in Baltimore when you get there," the doctor said further, and Eleanor was obliged to be satisfied with this for the present.
As they passed the gate of her own home, Eleanor hugged Ada closer and looking up at her uncle said, "I never want to see my home again, Uncle Heath, until mamma is in it."
He smiled down at her. "You probably will not, dear child. We shall keep you with us as long as we can."
"I hope there won't be any children in the cars," continued the child, "for I might give them the whooping-cough."
"We are going to have the little compartment at the end of the parlor car, and we can be all to ourselves in there."
"Oh, can we? I've always wanted to travel in that little room, Uncle Heath. Did you get it on purpose?"
"Not exactly, but being a railroad man, I had it placed at my disposal."
It was nearly dark when they reached the city. Eleanor looked out at the stiff rows of houses, secretly glad that her home was not in one of these. She did not wonder that her Cousin Florence always said that she could not bear the city. "Uncle Heath," she said, "are all cities like Baltimore, with so many, many houses all alike, with no gardens at all and hardly any trees anywhere? I don't see why they can't have a little bit of a garden in front of them, or porches to the houses, or something. Cities are very ugly, aren't they?"
"Most of them are, but some do have a section where you can see pretty gardens and porches and many trees. Washington, you know, is very attractive, and so are parts of Philadelphia."
"Yes, I know Washington is, but I most forget Philadelphia, I've not been there for so long."
"We must go there some pleasant day."
"Rock too?"
"Yes; but here we are. Run in quickly."
The door was thrown open by Aunt Dora herself, who almost lifted Eleanor off her feet in the energy of her embrace. "You dear little midget," she exclaimed, "you did come all safe and sound, didn't you?"
"Yes, I came, and so did Ada. I was so glad to see Uncle Heath."
"I knew you would be. Are you cold? No, your hands are quite warm, and oh, yes; how do you do, Ada? I've not seen you for a long time," and the doll's hand was gravely shaken by Aunt Dora, to Eleanor's delight. "Let us go right upstairs," continued Aunt Dora, holding Eleanor's hand closely in hers. "You are to have a little room next to mine. It isn't very big, but I think you and Ada will fit into it without much crowding."
"It isn't Rock's room?" said Eleanor, with a remembrance of her late trials in some such direction.
"No, he has a room back of mine. I am so glad to get home again and to have you come to us right away. It seems so very lonely without any children in the house. I can hardly wait till Rock's holiday begins, to have him with me again. I know he is counting the days."
"Yes, he wrote to me that he was. He makes a little mark on his calendar every day."
"Yes, I know; the dear child. I have been planning a number of things for the holidays, but first I must tell you about your papa; he is really getting better, and I think if he will only consent to stay long enough, that he will come back quite well." She stooped to kiss Eleanor, and then continued: "You were a dear child not to write to them of your worries."
"How did you know?"
"A little bird told me."
"Rock?"
"Maybe. We might call it a rock wren."
"Oh, Aunt Dora, has Rock had the whooping-cough?"
"Yes, several years ago."
"Did you know I had it?"
"Yes, your Uncle Heath wrote me that you had, and I have been thinking ever since, just suppose that Ada should take it!" Aunt Dora raised her hands in comic distress, and Eleanor looked gravely at her doll as if there were danger in that direction.
"Never mind," said her Aunt Dora; "she will not take it, I am sure. Now we will go down to dinner, if you are ready, and to-morrow I know the first person you will want to see."
"Florence?"
Aunt Dora nodded yes. "She is to come over to luncheon and the next day we will go out to do our Christmas shopping."
"Oh!" Eleanor was delighted, and she skipped downstairs by her aunt's side, looking very unlike the forlorn little figure waiting on the roadside for the butterman.
After dinner her uncle played dominoes with her and then her aunt took her upstairs and read a lovely fairy tale to her, and after she was snugly tucked in bed she had to have many good-night kisses before she was satisfied.