CHAPTER VI.
A LITTLE CROSS.
At three o'clock, Mary joined Aunt Mandy and her little sisters at theconvent gate. The old nurse watched her in surprise as she came down thewalk, her feet lagging instead of skipping and dancing in their usualmanner. However, Aunt Mandy said nothing until Mary made no offer topush the baby carriage, a thing which she had never failed to do.Instead, she asked if she might put her little suit-case in thecarriage.
"What's de mattah, honey chile? Did de Sistah done gib ma bressed lamb ascoldin' dis aftahnoon?"
"No, Aunt Mandy, she gave me a lovely holy picture of Blessed Mother forstaying at the head of the class in spelling all week. I am justtired--that's all--my arms and every bit of me. It is so warm that myhead aches."
"_Wahm_, honey! Why, dis yeah chile had to go back in de house to gither li'l shawl. It's a right putty day on de sunny side ob de street,but mighty chilly in de shade. Did yo' eat de apple and de li'lsandwiches what yo' ma done gibbed yo' fo' recess? Yo' nebah techednuffin fo' lunch."
"I couldn't eat them, Aunt Mandy, but I took three drinks of water andthree more on my way out just now. I have been so thirsty all day."
"Huh! I done told yo' ma dat all dis book larnin' ud be de def ob yo'yet. De bery idea ob sendin' a li'l gal lak yo' is to school!"
"Why, Aunt Mandy, there are ever so many little girls younger than I amat the convent. Some of them are only five."
"Laws a massy! Why, honey, dey's nuffin but babies! _Babies!_ An' dat'sall yo' is yo' own self. Wait twell yo's as ole as I is, honey chile.Eben yo' ma seems lak a li'l gal to me. 'Tain't no time sence I donetoted her round in ma ahms same's I'se doin' now wif dese yeah bressedlambs. I nebah had no book larnin', t'ank de good Lawd! an' I'se libbedlongah dan mos' folks what did, an' I 'spects to keep on libbin' fo' along time yit, I sahtinly does! Ma muddah an' gran'muddah bofe wuz moahdan a hund'ed an' ten when dey ups and died on ma hands. Yo'great-gran'muddah wah eighty; but sho', dat's nuffin! I'se past sebentyma own self. Nebah yo' mind, honey, we's gwine to be home soon, an' denyo' kin go to bed an' git a good sleep. Hol' on to ma ahm, honey chile.Dat'll holp a li'l."
Aunt Mandy made up her mind then and there to give Mrs. Selwyn someadvice on the school question. She had been a servant in the familysince she was twelve years of age; and while always respectful, shestill looked on "Miss Lisbuf" and "Massa Frank" as mere children, anddid not hesitate to speak her mind freely to them.
That evening, she was at the front door to meet Doctor Carlton, wholistened kindly to her account of the homeward walk, and then hastenedup to Mary's room. One of his first questions was, "Have any of thechildren in your class been absent?"
"Hazel hasn't been in school all week nor her little brother, either.Marian has been out a few days, too."
"Hm! You play with those little girls a great deal, do you not?"
"Oh, yes, Uncle, and we sit near one another in the classroom, too; andsometimes Sister lets us sit two in a seat to help each other."
"I see. Well, try to sleep a little while, pet," and down to thetelephone went the Doctor. He soon returned to Mary's bedside, and inhis own jolly way began, "So you are not content to follow the styles indress, but must take up with everything going, I see."
"_You_ know that I never bother about styles, Uncle. I just wearwhatever mother gets for me," said Mary, with a tired little smile.
"Well, you are very much in style just now. I have been talking withMrs. Burns and Mrs. Lee, and they tell me that Hazel and her brother andMarian have measles."
Mary gave a pitiful cry.
"And I have them, too, Uncle? And will I have to be sent away somewhere?But I will go--I will do anything to keep the darling babies fromcatching them, and--and--don't let Mother come _near_ me! I wanther--oh, I do want her! but she mustn't come on account of the babies."
"There, there, pet, you haven't the small-pox! Who has said anythingabout sending you away? Of course, Mother must not be with you, just asyou say, nor Aunt Mandy, either; but Father and I shall come in to seeyou very often----"
"But you might carry the measles to the babies----"
"Oh, we shall go out and run around the block after our visits to you;so don't worry any more about it. I shall get the very best nurse Iknow. All my little patients who have had her to take care of them, loveher very much."
"But can't I be moved to the little back room so as to be as far awayfrom the babies as I can be?"
"An idea popped into my head as I came up from the telephone. I am gladnow that Mother insisted on giving the third floor a house-cleaning twoweeks ago, though, at the time, I did not enjoy being ordered to clearout my old den up there. That big front room had been my privateproperty since my twelfth birthday, and the treasures which I hadhoarded there would make a junkman happy. Of course, I had not been nearthe room for years, and it was high time that I should put things inorder. So I spent several evenings destroying more than I saved.
"Out of curiosity, I went up there last Sunday, and what do you think?But I suppose you have seen it for yourself. I thought I was in thewrong house when I saw my old den dressed up in pale blue walls andwhite woodwork. It seems to me that is the very room in which to getover measles quickly, and you will have no reason to worry about thebabies. The third floor is not an attic, you know, though it has alwaysbeen used for storing away old things. It is what is called a mansardroof."
"I wouldn't mind if it _were_ an attic, Uncle. I should much rather livein an attic all my life than have any harm come to the babies."
"I am sure you would, pet. Now, I shall send Debby to dust and air theroom, and you may lie on the couch in my room while Tom and I carry upyour bed."
In less than a half hour, the little patient was comfortably settled inthe "hospital," as the Doctor playfully called his old den. He had thenext room fitted up for the nurse; but as she could not come beforemorning, he occupied it himself that night.
It was a great surprise to the little girl when, just after breakfastthe next day, he ushered the nurse into the room. Mary had expected awhite-gowned, white-capped young lady--not a smiling, rosy-cheeked,little Sister, wearing a big white apron over her black habit and along, pale blue veil.
"You wear our Blessed Mother's colors, too; don't you, Sister?" wasMary's first remark after she and Sister Julia had been introduced.
"Oh, by the way, Sister," the Doctor paused in the doorway, "there isone thing of great importance which I must ask you to remember, please.Any colors but blue and white have a very bad effect on thispatient--yellow in particular. Please see that she closes her eyes whileyou give her the medicine and, above all, orange-ade. A few drops ofwash-bluing in the water might help matters," and he was gone beforeMary could say a word.
The little girl soon learned to love her nurse very much; and, thoughshe sorely missed her mother, Sister Julia's beautiful stories kept herfrom becoming too lonely.
"No wonder your little patients love to have Sister Julia take care ofthem, Uncle," she said that evening when he came up to sit with herwhile the nurse went to her dinner. "I could lie here all day andlisten to her stories--_true_ stories about our Lord and Blessed Motherand the Saints, and about children she has taken care of--some of themso poor that they didn't have enough to eat or clothes to keep themwarm. But Sister knows a good, kind doctor who took care of them whilethey were sick and gave them medicine and fruit all for nothing; and hetold the Saint Vincent de Paul Society about them; so they are gettingalong better now.
"I am going to ask Mother not to buy that blue velvet coat and hat forme that she was looking at when we were down town last Saturday, but togive the money to some poor family instead. The white ones I had lastwinter are perfectly good, and Mother can have them dyed if she wouldlike me to have blue things this year. They can dye white any color, youknow. Hazel has a beautiful red dress trimmed with tiny, black velvetribbon; and when I told her how pretty it is, she said that it is an oldwhite tennis skirt of her mother's dyed. There is another thin
g that Iwould like to do; but I don't know--would you--do you mind what I dowith that five dollar gold piece you gave me for my birthday, Uncle?"
"Do I mind, pet? Of course I do not mind! You are to do exactly what youplease with that money. I gave it to you just to see what you _would_ dowith it. You have never handled any money of your own, except a fewpennies."
"But I didn't need to buy anything when you and Father were alwaysgiving me things--even pretty pencils for school. But there is somethingthat I would like to buy now. You can tell me whether it is just thebest thing to get for those poor, sick children. I might have askedSister Julia, but she was reading her prayer book when I thought of it."
"Let me hear what you have in mind for them."
"I think it would be nice to send each of them a little blooming plant.It would last ever so much longer than cut flowers, and they could watchit grow and see the new flowers come out. See that chrysanthemum on thewindow sill? Mr. Daniel at Maryvale sent it in to me this morning; andthe sun made two buds blossom right out."
"It is a beautiful plant. I have been wondering where it came from, butyou have not given me a chance to ask. As for your little plan, it isan excellent one and will make several little folks, who never see somuch as a dandelion, very happy indeed."
Thinking of others who had never known the blessings with which her ownlife was overflowing, and planning with her father and uncle to bring alittle sunshine into their cheerless homes, Mary did not find the daysof her illness so very, very long. She was doing so well that everyonein the house was looking forward to having her once more among them; andshe herself was counting the hours until she could again be with hermother and little sisters.