“'Look only,' said the brownie,'At the pretty gown of blue,At the kerchief pinned about her head,And at her little shoe,”'
said a voice from below, as a great cabbage-rose came flying against her cheek.
“What is the princess dreaming about up there in her hanging-garden?” added Dr. Alec as she flung back a morning-glory.
“I was wishing I could do something pleasant this fine day; something very new and interesting, for the wind makes me feel frisky and gay.”
“Suppose we take a pull over to the Island? I intended to go this afternoon; but if you feel more like it now, we can be off at once.”
“I do! I do! I'll come in fifteen minutes, uncle. I must just scrabble my room to rights, for Phebe has got a great deal to do.”
Rose caught up the rugs and vanished as she spoke, while Dr. Alec went in, saying to himself, with an indulgent smile,
“It may upset things a trifle, but half a child's pleasure consists in having their fun when they want it.”
Never did duster flap more briskly than the one Rose used that day, and never was a room “scrabbled” to rights in such haste as hers. Tables and chairs flew into their places as if alive; curtains shook as if a gale was blowing; china rattled and small articles tumbled about as if a young earthquake was playing with them. The boating suit went on in a twinkling, and Rose was off with a hop and a skip, little dreaming how many hours it would be before she saw her pretty room again.
Uncle Alec was putting a large basket into the boat when she arrived, and before they were off Phebe came running down with a queer, knobby bundle done up in a water-proof.
“We can't eat half that luncheon, and I know we shall not need so many wraps. I wouldn't lumber the boat up so,” said Rose, who still had secret scares when on the water.
“Couldn't you make a smaller parcel, Phebe?” asked Dr. Alec, eyeing the bundle suspiciously.
“No, sir, not in such a hurry,” and Phebe laughed as she gave a particularly large knob a good poke.
“Well, it will do for ballast. Don't forget the note to Mrs. Jessie, I beg of you.”
“No, sir. I'll send it right off,” and Phebe ran up the bank as if she had wings to her feet.
“We'll take a look at the lighthouse first, for you have not been there yet, and it is worth seeing. By the time we have done that it will be pretty warm, and we will have lunch under the trees on the Island.”
Rose was ready for anything, and enjoyed her visit to the lighthouse on the Point very much, especially climbing up the narrow stairs and going inside the great lantern. They made a long stay, for Dr. Alec seemed in no hurry to go, and kept looking through his spy-glass as if he expected to discover something remarkable on sea or land. It was past twelve before they reached the Island, and Rose was ready for her lunch long before she got it.
“Now this is lovely! I do wish the boys were here. Won't it be nice to have them with us all their vacation? Why, it begins to-day, doesn't it? Oh, I wish I'd remembered it sooner, and perhaps they would have come with us,” she said, as they lay luxuriously eating sandwiches under the old apple-tree.
“So we might. Next time we won't be in such a hurry. I expect the lads will take our heads off when they find us out,” answered Dr. Alec, placidly drinking cold tea.
“Uncle, I smell a frying sort of a smell,” Rose said, pausing suddenly as she was putting away the remains of the lunch half an hour later.
“So do I; it is fish, I think.”
For a moment they both sat with their noses in the air, sniffing like hounds; then Dr. Alec sprang up, saying with great decision,
“Now, this won't do! No one is permitted on this island without asking leave. I must see who dares to fry fish on my private property.”
Taking the basket on one arm and the bundle on the other, he strode away towards the traitorous smell, looking as fierce as a lion, while Rose marched behind under her umbrella.
“We are Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday going to see if the savages have come,” she said presently, for her fancy was full of the dear old stories that all children love so well.
“And there they are! Two tents and two boats, as I live! These rascals mean to enjoy themselves, that's evident.”
“There ought to be more boats and no tents. I wonder where the prisoners are?”
“There are traces of them,” and Dr. Alec pointed to the heads and tails of fishes strewn on the grass.
“And there are more,” said Rose, laughing, as she pointed to a scarlet heap of what looked like lobsters.
“The savages are probably eating their victims now; don't you hear the knives rattle in that tent?”
“We ought to creep up and peep; Crusoe was cautious, you know, and Friday scared out of his wits,” added Rose, still keeping up the joke.
“But this Crusoe is going to pounce upon them, regardless of consequences. If I am killed and eaten, you seize the basket and run for the boat; there are provisions enough for your voyage home.”
With that Uncle Alec slipped round to the front of the tent and, casting in the big bundle like a bomb-shell, roared out, in a voice of thunder,
“Pirates, surrender!”
A crash, a shout, a laugh, and out came the savages, brandishing knives and forks, chicken bones, and tin mugs, and all fell upon the intruder, pommelling him unmercifully as they cried,
“You came too soon! We are not half ready! You've spoilt it all! Where is Rose?”
“Here I am,” answered a half-stifled voice, and Rose was discovered sitting on the pile of red flannel bathing clothes, which she had mistaken for lobsters, and where she had fallen in a fit of merriment when she discovered that the cannibals were her merry cousins.
“You good-for-nothing boys! You are always bursting out upon me in some ridiculous way, and I always get taken in because I'm not used to such pranks. Uncle is as bad as the rest, and it's great fun,” she said, as the lads came round her, half scolding, half welcoming, and wholly enjoying the double surprise.
“You were not to come till afternoon, and mamma was to be here to receive you. Everything is in a mess now, except your tent; we got that in order the first thing, and you can sit there and see us work,” said Archie, doing the honours as usual.
“Rose felt it in her bones, as Dolly says, that something was in the wind, and wanted to be off at once. So I let her come, and should have kept her away an hour longer if your fish had not betrayed you,” explained Uncle Alec, subsiding from a ferocious Crusoe into his good-natured self again.
“As this seat is rather damp, I think I'll rise,” said Rose, as the excitement lessened a little.
Several fishy hands helped her up, and Charlie said, as he scattered the scarlet garments over the grass with an oar,
“We had a jolly good swim before dinner, and I told the Brats to spread these to dry. Hope you brought your things, Rose, for you belong to the Lobsters, you know, and we can have no end of fun teaching you to dive and float and tread water.”
“I didn't bring anything—” began Rose, but was interrupted by the Brats (otherwise Will and Geordie), who appeared bearing the big bundle, so much demoralised by its fall that a red flannel tunic trailed out at one end and a little blue dressing-gown at the other, while the knobs proved to be a toilet-case, rubbers, and a silver mug.
“Oh, that sly Phebe! This was the secret, and she bundled up those things after I went down to the boat,” cried Rose, with sparkling eyes.
“Guess something is smashed inside, for a bit of glass fell out,” observed Will, as they deposited the bundle at her feet.
“Catch a girl going anywhere without a looking-glass. We haven't got one among the whole lot of us,” added Mac, with masculine scorn.
“Dandy has; I caught him touching up his wig behind the trees after our swim,” cut in Geordie, wagging a derisive finger at Steve, who promptly silenced him by a smart rap on the head with the drum-stick he had just polished off.
“Come, come, you lazy lubbers, fall to work, or we shall not be ready for mamma. Take Rose's things to her tent, and tell her all about it, Prince. Mac and Steve, you cut away and bring up the rest of the straw; and you small chaps, clear off the table, if you have stuffed all you can. Please, uncle, I'd like your advice about the boundary lines and the best place for the kitchen.”
Everyone obeyed the chief, and Rose was escorted to her tent by Charlie, who devoted himself to her service. She was charmed with her quarters, and still more so with the programme which he unfolded before her as they worked.
“We always camp out somewhere in vacation, and this year we thought we'd try the Island. It is handy, and our fireworks will show off well from here.”
“Shall we stay over the Fourth? Three whole days! Oh, me! what a frolic it will be!”
“Bless your heart, we often camp for a week, we big fellows; but this year the small chaps wanted to come, so we let them. We have great larks, as you'll see; for we have a cave and play Captain Kidd, and have shipwrecks, and races, and all sorts of games. Arch and I are rather past that kind of thing now, but we do it to please the children,” added Charlie, with a sudden recollection of his sixteen years.
“I had no idea boys had such good times. Their plays never seemed a bit interesting before. But I suppose that was because I never knew any boys very well, or perhaps you are unusually nice ones,” observed Rose, with an artless air of appreciation that was very flattering.
“We are a pretty clever set, I fancy; but we have a good many advantages, you see. There are a tribe of us, to begin with; then our family has been here for ages, and we have plenty of 'spondulics,' so we can rather lord it over the other fellows, and do as we like. There, ma'am, you can hang your smashed glass on that nail and do up your back hair as fine as you please. You can have a blue blanket or a red one, and a straw pillow or an air cushion for your head, whichever you like. You can trim up to any extent, and be as free and easy as squaws in a wigwam, for this corner is set apart for you ladies and we never cross the line uncle is drawing until we ask leave. Anything more I can do for you, cousin?”
“No, thank you. I think I'll leave the rest till auntie comes, and go and help you somewhere else, if I may.”
“Yes, indeed, come on and see to the kitchen. Can you cook?” asked Charlie, as he led the way to the rocky nook where Archie was putting up a sail-cloth awning.
“I can make tea and toast bread.”
“Well, we'll shew you how to fry fish, and make chowder. Now you just set these pots and pans round tastefully, and sort of tidy up a bit, for Aunt Jessie insists on doing some of the work, and I want it to be decent here.”
By four o'clock the camp was in order, and the weary workers settled down on Lookout Rock to watch for Mrs. Jessie and Jamie, who was never far from mamma's apron string. They looked like a flock of blue-birds, all being in sailor rig, with blue ribbon enough flying from the seven hats to have set up a milliner. Very tuneful blue-birds they were, too, for all the lads sang, and the echo of their happy voices reached Mrs. Jessie long before she saw them.
The moment the boat hove in sight up went the Island flag, and the blue-jackets cheered lustily, as they did on every possible occasion, like true young Americans. This welcome was answered by the flapping of a handkerchief and the shrill “Rah! Rah! Rah!” of the one small tar who stood in the stern waving his hat manfully, while a maternal hand clutched him firmly in the rear.
Cleopatra landing from her golden galley never received a heartier greeting than “Little Mum” as she was borne to her tent by the young folk, for love of whom she smilingly resigned herself to three days of discomfort; while Jamie immediately attached himself to Rose, assuring her of his protection from the manifold perils which might assail them.
Taught by long experience that boys are always hungry, Aunt Jessie soon proposed supper, and proceeded to get it, enveloped in an immense apron, with an old hat of Archie's stuck atop of her cap. Rose helped, and tried to be as handy as Phebe, though the peculiar style of table she had to set made it no easy task. It was accomplished at last, and a very happy party lay about under the trees, eating and drinking out of anyone's plate and cup, and quite untroubled by the frequent appearance of ants and spiders in places which these interesting insects are not expected to adorn.
“I never thought I should like to wash dishes, but I do,” said Rose, as she sat in a boat after supper lazily rinsing plates in the sea, and rocking luxuriously as she wiped them.
“Mum is mighty particular; we just give 'em a scrub with sand, and dust 'em off with a bit of paper. It's much the best way, I think,” replied Geordie, who reposed in another boat alongside.
“How Phebe would like this! I wonder uncle did not have her come.”
“I believe he tried to, but Dolly was as cross as two sticks, and said she couldn't spare her. I'm sorry, for we all like the Phebe bird, and she'd chirp like a good one out here, wouldn't she?”
“She ought to have a holiday like the rest of us. It's too bad to leave her out.”
This thought came back to Rose several times that evening, for Phebe would have added much to the little concert they had in the moonlight, would have enjoyed the stories told, been quick at guessing the conundrums, and laughed with all her heart at the fun. The merry going to bed would have been the best of all, for Rose wanted someone to cuddle under the blue blanket with her, there to whisper and giggle and tell secrets, as girls delight to do.
Long after the rest were asleep, Rose lay wide awake, excited by the novelty of all about her, and a thought that had come into her mind. Far away she heard a city clock strike twelve; a large star like a mild eye peeped in at the opening of the tent, and the soft plash of the waves seemed calling her to come out. Aunt Jessie lay fast asleep, with Jamie rolled up like a kitten at her feet, and neither stirred as Rose in her wrapper crept out to see how the world looked at midnight.
She found it very lovely, and sat down on a cracker keg to enjoy it with a heart full of the innocent sentiment of her years. Fortunately, Dr. Alec saw her before she had time to catch cold, for coming out to tie back the door-flap of his tent for more air, he beheld the small figure perched in the moonlight. Having no fear of ghosts, he quietly approached, and, seeing that she was wide awake, said, with a hand on her shining hair,
“What is my girl doing here?”
“Having a good time,” answered Rose, not at all startled.
“I wonder what she was thinking about with such a sober look.”
“The story you told of the brave sailor who gave up his place on the raft to the woman, and the last drop of water to the poor baby. People who make sacrifices are very much loved and admired, aren't they?” she asked, earnestly.
“If the sacrifice is a true one. But many of the bravest never are known, and get no praise. That does not lessen their beauty, though perhaps it makes them harder, for we all like sympathy,” and Dr. Alec sighed a patient sort of sigh.
“I suppose you have made a great many? Would you mind telling me one of them?” asked Rose, arrested by the sigh.
“My last was to give up smoking,” was the very unromantic answer to her pensive question.
“Why did you?”
“Bad example for the boys.”
“That was very good of you, uncle! Was it hard?”
“I'm ashamed to say it was. But as a wise old fellow once said, 'It is necessary to do right; it is not necessary to be happy.'”
Rose pondered over the saying as if it pleased her, and then said, with a clear, bright look,
“A real sacrifice is giving up something you want or enjoy very much, isn't it?”
“Yes.”
“Doing it one's own self because one loves another person very much and wants her to be happy?”
“Yes.”
“And doing it pleasantly, and being glad about it, and not minding the praise if it doesn't come?”
“Yes, dear, that is the true spirit of self-sacrifice; you seem to understand it, and I dare say you will have many chances in your life to try the real thing. I hope they won't be very hard ones.”
“I think they will,” began Rose, and there stopped short.
“Well, make one now, and go to sleep, or my girl will be ill to-morrow, and then the aunts will say camping out was bad for her.”
“I'll go good night!” and throwing him a kiss, the little ghost vanished, leaving Uncle Alec to pace the shore and think about some of the unsuspected sacrifices that had made him what he was.
There certainly were “larks” on Campbell's Island next day, as Charlie had foretold, and Rose took her part in them like one intent on enjoying every minute to the utmost. There was a merry breakfast, a successful fishing expedition, and then the lobsters came out in full force, for even Aunt Jessie appeared in red flannel. There was nothing Uncle Alec could not do in the water, and the boys tried their best to equal him in strength and skill, so there was a great diving and ducking, for every one was bent on distinguishing himself.
Rose swam out far beyond her depth, with uncle to float her back; Aunt Jessie splashed placidly in the shallow pools, with Jamie paddling near by like a little whale beside its mother; while the lads careered about, looking like a flock of distracted flamingoes, and acting like the famous dancing party in “Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.”
Nothing but chowder would have lured them from their gambols in the briny deep; that time-honoured dish demanded the concentrated action of several mighty minds; so the “Water Babies” came ashore and fell to cooking.
It is unnecessary to say that, when done, it was the most remarkable chowder ever cooked, and the quantity eaten would have amazed the world if the secret had been divulged. After this exertion a siesta was considered the thing, and people lay about in tents or out as they pleased, the boys looking like warriors slumbering where they fell.
The elders had just settled to a comfortable nap when the youngsters rose, refreshed and ready for further exploits. A hint sent them all off to the cave, and there were discovered bows and arrows, battle clubs, old swords, and various relics of an interesting nature. Perched upon a commanding rock, with Jamie to “splain” things to her, Rose beheld a series of stirring scenes enacted with great vigour and historical accuracy by her gifted relatives.
Captain Cook was murdered by the natives of Owhyhee in the most thrilling manner. Captain Kidd buried untold wealth in the chowder kettle at the dead of night, and shot both the trusting villains who shared the secret of the hiding place. Sinbad came ashore there and had manifold adventures, and numberless wrecks bestrewed the sands.
Rose considered them by far the most exciting dramas she had ever witnessed; and when the performance closed with a grand ballet of Feejee Islanders, whose barbaric yells alarmed the gulls, she had no words in which to express her gratification.
Another swim at sunset, another merry evening on the rocks watching the lighted steamers pass seaward and the pleasure-boats come into port, ended the second day of the camping out, and sent everyone to bed early that they might be ready for the festivities of the morrow.
“Archie, didn't I hear uncle ask you to row home in the morning for fresh milk and things?”
“Yes, why?”
“Please, may I go too? I have something of great importance to arrange; you know I was carried off in a hurry,” Rose said in a confidential whisper as she was bidding her cousins good night.
“I'm willing, and I guess Charlie won't mind.”
“Thank you; be sure you stand by me when I ask leave in the morning, and don't say anything till then, except to Charlie. Promise,” urged Rose, so eagerly, that Archie struck an attitude and cried dramatically,
“By yonder moon I swear!”
“Hush! it's all right, go along”; and Rose departed as if satisfied.
“She's a queer little thing, isn't she, Prince?”
“Rather a nice little thing, I think. I'm quite fond of her.”
Rose's quick ears caught both remarks, and she retired to her tent, saying to herself with sleepy dignity,
“Little thing, indeed! Those boys talk as if I was a baby. They will treat me with more respect after to-morrow, I guess.”
Archie did stand by her in the morning, and her request was readily granted, as the lads were coming directly back. Off they went, and Rose waved her hand to the islanders with a somewhat pensive air, for an heroic purpose glowed within her, and the spirit of self-sacrifice was about to be illustrated in a new and touching manner.
While the boys got the milk Rose ran to Phebe, ordered her to leave her dishes, to put on her hat, and take a note back to Uncle Alec, which would explain this somewhat mysterious performance. Phebe obeyed, and when she went to the boat Rose accompanied her, telling the boys she was not ready to go yet, but they could, some of them, come for her when she hung a white signal on her balcony.
“But why not come now? What are you about, miss? Uncle won't like it,” protested Charlie, in great amazement.
“Just do as I tell you, little boy; uncle will understand and explain. Obey, as Phebe does, and ask no questions. I can have secrets as well as other people”; and Rose walked off with an air of lofty independence that impressed her friends immensely.
“It's some plot between uncle and herself, so we won't meddle. All right, Phebe? Pull away, Prince”; and off they went to be received with much surprise by the islanders.
This was the note Phebe bore:
“Dear Uncle, I am going to take Phebe's place to-day, and let her have all the fun she can. Please don't mind what she says, but keep her, and tell the boys to be very good to her for my sake. Don't think it is easy to do this; it is very hard to give up the best day of all, but I feel so selfish to have all the pleasure and Phebe none, that I wish to make this sacrifice. Do let me, and don't laugh at it; I truly do not wish to be praised, and I truly want to do it. Love to all from,
“Rose.”
“Bless the little dear, what a generous heart she has! Shall we go after her, Jessie, or let her have her way?” said Dr. Alec, after the first mingled amusement and astonishment had subsided.
“Let her alone, and don't spoil her little sacrifice. She means it, I know, and the best way in which we can show our respect for her effort is to give Phebe a pleasant day. I'm sure she has earned it”; and Mrs. Jessie made a sign to the boys to suppress their disappointment and exert themselves to please Rose's guest.
Phebe was with difficulty kept from going straight home, and declared that she should not enjoy herself one bit without Miss Rose.
“She won't hold out all day, and we shall see her paddling back before noon, I'll wager anything,” said Charlie; and the rest so strongly inclined to his opinion that they resigned themselves to the loss of the little queen of the revels, sure that it would be only a temporary one.
But hour after hour passed, and no signal appeared on the balcony, though Phebe watched it hopefully. No passing boat brought the truant back, though more than one pair of eyes looked out for the bright hair under the round hat; and sunset came, bringing no Rose but the lovely colour in the western sky.
“I really did not think the child had it in her. I fancied it was a bit of sentiment, but I see she was in earnest, and means that her sacrifice shall be a true one. Dear little soul! I'll make it up to her a thousand times over, and beg her pardon for thinking it might be done for effect,” Dr. Alec said remorsefully, as he strained his eyes through the dusk, fancying he saw a small figure sitting in the garden as it had sat on the keg the night before, laying the generous little plot that had cost more than he could guess.
“Well, she can't help seeing the fireworks, any way, unless she is goose enough to think she must hide in a dark closet and not look,” said Archie, who was rather disgusted at Rose's seeming ingratitude.
“She will see ours capitally, but miss the big ones on the hill, unless papa has forgotten all about them,” added Steve, cutting short the harangue Mac had begun upon the festivals of the ancients.
“I'm sure the sight of her will be better than the finest fireworks that ever went off,” said Phebe, meditating an elopement with one of the boats if she could get a chance.
“Let things work; if she resists a brilliant invitation we give her she will be a heroine,” added Uncle Alec, secretly hoping that she would not.
Meanwhile Rose had spent a quiet, busy day helping Dolly, waiting on Aunt Peace, and steadily resisting Aunt Plenty's attempts to send her back to the happy island. It had been hard in the morning to come in from the bright world outside, with flags flying, cannon booming, crackers popping, and everyone making ready for a holiday, and go to washing cups, while Dolly grumbled and the aunts lamented. It was very hard to see the day go by, knowing how gay each hour must have been across the water, and how a word from her would take her where she longed to be with all her heart. But it was hardest of all when evening came and Aunt Peace was asleep, Aunt Plenty seeing a gossip in the parlor, Dolly established in the porch to enjoy the show, and nothing left for the little maid to do but sit alone in her balcony and watch the gay rockets whizz up from island, hill, and city, while bands played and boats laden with happy people went to and fro in the fitful light.
Then it must be confessed that a tear or two dimmed the blue eyes, and once, when a very brilliant display illuminated the island for a moment, and she fancied she saw the tents, the curly head went down on the railing, and a wide-awake nasturtium heard a little whisper,
“I hope someone wishes I was there!”
The tears were all gone, however, and she was watching the hill and island answer each other with what Jamie called “whizzers, whirligigs and busters,” and smiling as she thought how hard the boys must be working to keep up such a steady fire, when Uncle Mac came walking in upon her, saying hurriedly,
“Come, child, put on your tippet, pelisse, or whatever you call it, and run off with me. I came to get Phebe, but aunt says she is gone, so I want you. I've got Fun down in the boat, and I want you to go with us and see my fireworks. Got them up for you, and you mustn't miss them, or I shall be disappointed.”
“But, uncle,” began Rose, feeling as if she ought to refuse even a glimpse of bliss, “perhaps—”
“I know, my dear, I know; aunt told me; but no one needs you now so much as I do, and I insist on your coming,” said Uncle Mac, who seemed in a great hurry to be off, yet was unusually kind.
So Rose went and found the little Chinaman with a funny lantern waiting to help her in and convulse her with laughter trying to express his emotions in pigeon English. The city clocks were striking nine as they got out into the bay, and the island fireworks seemed to be over, for no rocket answered the last Roman candle that shone on the Aunt-hill.
“Ours are done, I see, but they are going up all round the city, and how pretty they are,” said Rose, folding her mantle about her, and surveying the scene with pensive interest.
“Hope my fellows have not got into trouble up there,” muttered Uncle Mac, adding with a satisfied chuckle, as a spark shone out, “No; there it goes! Look, Rosy, and see how you like this one; it was ordered especially in honour of your coming.”
Rose looked with all her eyes, and saw the spark grow into the likeness of a golden vase, then green leaves came out, and then a crimson flower glowing on the darkness with a splendid lustre.
“Is it a rose, uncle?” she asked, clasping her hands with delight as she recognised the handsome flower.
“Of course it is! Look again, and guess what those are,” answered Uncle Mac, chuckling and enjoying it all like a boy.
A wreath of what looked at first like purple brooms appeared below the vase, but Rose guessed what they were meant for, and stood straight up, holding by his shoulder, and crying excitedly,
“Thistles, uncle, Scotch thistles! There are seven of them one for each boy! Oh, what a joke!” and she laughed so that she plumped into the bottom of the boat and stayed there till the brilliant spectacle was quite gone.
“That was rather a neat thing, I flatter myself,” said Uncle Mac, in high glee at the success of his illumination. “Now, shall I leave you on the Island or take you home again, my good little girl?” he added, lifting her up with such a tone of approbation in his voice that Rose kissed him on the spot.
“Home, please uncle; and I thank you very very much for the beautiful firework you got up for me. I'm so glad I saw it; and I know I shall dream about it,” answered Rose steadily, though a wistful glance went toward the Island, now so near that she could smell powder and see shadowy figures flitting about.
Home they went; and Rose fell asleep saying to herself, “It was harder than I thought, but I'm glad I did it, and I truly don't want any reward but Phebe's pleasure.”
Rose's sacrifice was a failure in one respect, for, though the elders loved her the better for it, and showed that they did, the boys were not inspired with the sudden respect which she had hoped for. In fact, her feelings were much hurt by overhearing Archie say that he couldn't see any sense in it; and the Prince added another blow by pronouncing her “the queerest chicken ever seen.”
It is apt to be so, and it is hard to bear; for, though we do not want trumpets blown, we do like to have our little virtues appreciated, and cannot help feeling disappointed if they are not.
A time soon came, however, when Rose, quite unconsciously, won not only the respect of her cousins, but their gratitude and affection likewise.
Soon after the Island episode, Mac had a sunstroke, and was very ill for some time. It was so sudden that everyone was startled, and for some days the boy's life was in danger. He pulled through, however; and then, just as the family were rejoicing, a new trouble appeared which cast a gloom over them all.
Poor Mac's eyes gave out; and well they might, for he had abused them, and never being very strong, they suffered doubly now.
No one dared to tell him the dark predictions of the great oculist who came to look at them, and the boy tried to be patient, thinking that a few weeks of rest would repair the overwork of several years.
He was forbidden to look at a book, and as that was the one thing he most delighted in, it was a terrible affliction to the Worm. Everyone was very ready to read to him, and at first the lads contended for this honour. But as week after week went by, and Mac was still condemned to idleness and a darkened room, their zeal abated, and one after the other fell off. It was hard for the active fellows, right in the midst of their vacation; and nobody blamed them when they contented themselves with brief calls, running of errands, and warm expressions of sympathy.
The elders did their best, but Uncle Mac was a busy man, Aunt Jane's reading was of a funereal sort, impossible to listen to long, and the other aunties were all absorbed in their own cares, though they supplied the boy with every delicacy they could invent.
Uncle Alec was a host in himself, but he could not give all his time to the invalid; and if it had not been for Rose, the afflicted Worm would have fared ill. Her pleasant voice suited him, her patience was unfailing, her time of no apparent value, and her eager good-will was very comforting.
The womanly power of self-devotion was strong in the child, and she remained faithfully at her post when all the rest dropped away. Hour after hour she sat in the dusky room, with one ray of light on her book, reading to the boy, who lay with shaded eyes silently enjoying the only pleasure that lightened the weary days. Sometimes he was peevish and hard to please, sometimes he growled because his reader could not manage the dry books he wished to hear, and sometimes he was so despondent that her heart ached to see him. Through all these trials Rose persevered, using all her little arts to please him. When he fretted, she was patient; when he growled, she ploughed bravely through the hard pages not dry to her in one sense, for quiet tears dropped on them now and then; and when Mac fell into a despairing mood, she comforted him with every hopeful word she dared to offer.
He said little, but she knew he was grateful, for she suited him better than anyone else. If she was late, he was impatient; when she had to go, he seemed forlorn; and when the tired head ached worst, she could always soothe him to sleep, crooning the old songs her father used to love.
“I don't know what I should do without that child,” Aunt Jane often said.
“She's worth all those racketing fellows put together,” Mac would add, fumbling about to discover if the little chair was ready for her coming.
That was the sort of reward Rose liked, the thanks that cheered her; and whenever she grew very tired, one look at the green shade, the curly head so restless on the pillow, and the poor groping hands, touched her tender heart and put new spirit into the weary voice.
She did not know how much she was learning, both from the books she read and the daily sacrifices she made. Stories and poetry were her delight, but Mac did not care for them; and since his favourite Greeks and Romans were forbidden, he satisfied himself with travels, biographies, and the history of great inventions or discoveries. Rose despised this taste at first, but soon got interested in Livingstone's adventures, Hobson's stirring life in India, and the brave trials and triumphs of Watt and Arkwright, Fulton, and “Palissy, the Potter.” The true, strong books helped the dreamy girl; her faithful service and sweet patience touched and won the boy; and long afterward both learned to see how useful those seemingly hard and weary hours had been to them.
One bright morning, as Rose sat down to begin a fat volume entitled “History of the French Revolution,” expecting to come to great grief over the long names, Mac, who was lumbering about the room like a blind bear, stopped her by asking abruptly,
“What day of the month is it?”
“The seventh of August, I believe.”
“More than half my vacation gone, and I've only had a week of it! I call that hard,” and he groaned dismally.
“So it is; but there is more to come, and you may be able to enjoy that.”
“May be able! I will be able! Does that old noodle think I'm going to stay stived up here much longer?”
“I guess he does, unless your eyes get on faster than they have yet.”
“Has he said anything more lately?”
“I haven't seen him, you know. Shall I begin? this looks rather nice.”
“Read away; it's all one to me.” And Mac cast himself down upon the old lounge, where his heavy head felt easiest.
Rose began with great spirit, and kept on gallantly for a couple of chapters, getting over the unpronounceable names with unexpected success, she thought, for her listener did not correct her once, and lay so still she fancied he was deeply interested. All of a sudden she was arrested in the middle of a fine paragraph by Mac, who sat bolt upright, brought both feet down with a thump, and said, in a rough, excited tone,
“Stop! I don't hear a word, and you may as well save your breath to answer my question.”
“What is it?” asked Rose, looking uneasy, for she had something on her mind, and feared that he suspected what it was. His next words proved that she was right.
“Now, look here, I want to know something, and you've got to tell me.”
“Please, don't—” began Rose, beseechingly.
“You must, or I'll pull off this shade and stare at the sun as hard as ever I can stare. Come now!” and he half rose, as if ready to execute the threat.
“I will! oh, I will tell, if I know! But don't be reckless and do anything so crazy as that,” cried Rose, in great distress.
“Very well; then listen, and don't dodge, as everyone else does. Didn't the doctor think my eyes worse the last time he came? Mother won't say, but you shall.”
“I believe he did,” faltered Rose.
“I thought so! Did he say I should be able to go to school when it begins?”
“No, Mac,” very low.
“Ah!”
That was all, but Rose saw her cousin set his lips together and take a long breath, as if she had hit him hard. He bore the disappointment bravely, however, and asked quite steadily in a minute,
“How soon does he think I can study again?”
It was so hard to answer that! Yet Rose knew she must, for Aunt Jane had declared she could not do it, and Uncle Mac had begged her to break the truth to the poor lad.
“Not for a good many months.”
“How many?” he asked with a pathetic sort of gruffness.
“A year, perhaps.”
“A whole year! Why, I expected to be ready for college by that time.” And, pushing up the shade, Mac stared at her with startled eyes, that soon blinked and fell before the one ray of light.
“Plenty of time for that; you must be patient now, and get them thoroughly well, or they will trouble you again when it will be harder to spare them,” she said, with tears in her own eyes.
“I won't do it! I will study and get through somehow. It's all humbug about taking care so long. These doctors like to keep hold of a fellow if they can. But I won't stand it I vow I won't!” and he banged his fist down on the unoffending pillow as if he were pommelling the hard-hearted doctor.
“Now, Mac, listen to me,” Rose said very earnestly, though her voice shook a little and her heart ached. “You know you have hurt your eyes reading by fire-light and in the dusk, and sitting up late, and now you'll have to pay for it; the doctor said so. You must be careful, and do as he tells you, or you will be blind.”
“No!”
“Yes, it is true, and he wanted us to tell you that nothing but entire rest would cure you. I know it's dreadfully hard, but we'll all help you; I'll read all day long, and lead you, and wait upon you, and try to make it easier.”
She stopped there, for it was evident that he did not hear a sound; the word “blind” seemed to have knocked him down, for he had buried his face in the pillow, and lay so still that Rose was frightened. She sat motionless for many minutes, longing to comfort him, but not knowing how, and wishing Uncle Alec would come, for he had promised to tell Mac.
Presently, a sort of choking sound came out of the pillow, and went straight to her heart the most pathetic sob she ever heard, for, though it was the most natural means of relief, the poor fellow must not indulge in it because of the afflicted eyes. The “French Revolution” tumbled out of her lap, and, running to the sofa, she knelt down by it, saying, with the motherly sort of tenderness girls feel for any sorrowing creature,
“Oh, my dear, you mustn't cry! It is so bad for your poor eyes. Take your head out of that hot pillow, and let me cool it. I don't wonder you feel so, but please don't cry. I'll cry for you; it won't hurt me.”
As she spoke she pulled away the cushion with gentle force, and saw the green shade all crushed and stained with the few hot tears that told how bitter the disappointment had been. Mac felt her sympathy, but, being a boy, did not thank her for it; only sat up with a jerk, saying, as he tried to rub away the tell-tale drops with the sleeve of his jacket, “Don't bother; weak eyes always water. I'm all right.”
But Rose cried out, and caught his arm, “Don't touch them with that rough woollen stuff! Lie down and let me bathe them, there's a dear boy; then there will be no harm done.”
“They do smart confoundedly. I say, don't you tell the other fellows that I made a baby of myself, will you?” he added, yielding with a sigh to the orders of his nurse, who had flown for the eye-wash and linen cambric handkerchief.
“Of course I won't; but anyone would be upset at the idea of being well troubled in this way. I'm sure you bear it splendidly, and you know it isn't half so bad when you get used to it. Besides, it is only for a time, and you can do lots of pleasant things if you can't study. You'll have to wear blue goggles, perhaps; won't that be funny?”
And while she was pouring out all the comfortable words she could think of, Rose was softly bathing the eyes and dabbing the hot forehead with lavender-water, as her patient lay quiet with a look on his face that grieved her sadly.
“Homer was blind, and so was Milton, and they did something to be remembered by, in spite of it,” he said, as if to himself, in a solemn tone, for even the blue goggles did not bring a smile.
“Papa had a picture of Milton and his daughters writing for him. It was a very sweet picture, I thought,” observed Rose in a serious voice, trying to meet the sufferer on his own ground.
“Perhaps I could study if someone read and did the eye part. Do you suppose I could, by and by?” he asked, with a sudden ray of hope.
“I dare say, if your head is strong enough. This sunstroke, you know, is what upset you, and your brain needs rest, the doctor says.”
“I'll have a talk with the old fellow next time he comes, and find out just what I may do; then I shall know where I am. What a fool I was that day to be stewing my brains and letting the sun glare on my book till the letters danced before me! I see 'em now when I shut my eyes; black balls bobbing round, and stars and all sorts of queer things. Wonder if all blind people do?”
“Don't think about them; I'll go on reading, shall I? We shall come to the exciting part soon, and then you'll forget all this,” suggested Rose.
“No, I never shall forget. Hang the old 'Revolution'! I don't want to hear another word of it. My head aches, and I'm hot. Oh, wouldn't I like to go for a pull in the 'Stormy Petrel!”' and poor Mac tossed about as if he did not know what to do with himself.
“Let me sing, and perhaps you'll drop off; then the day will seem shorter,” said Rose, taking up a fan and sitting down beside him.
“Perhaps I shall; I didn't sleep much last night, and when I did I dreamed like fun. See here, you tell the people that I know, and it's all right, and I don't want them to talk about it or howl over me. That's all; now drone away, and I'll try to sleep. Wish I could for a year, and wake up cured.”
“Oh, I wish, I wish you could!”
Rose said it so fervently that Mac was moved to grope for her apron and hold on to a corner of it, as if it was comfortable to feel her near him. But all he said was,
“You are a good little soul, Rosy. Give us 'The Birks'; that is a drowsy one that always sends me off.”
Quite contented with this small return for all her sympathy, Rose waved her fan and sang, in a dreamy tone, the pretty Scotch air, the burden of which is,