CHAPTER IV
WHAT THE SWALLOWS THOUGHT OF IT
Thanks to the extra sleep which had come to Ferdy after all, he had notlong to wait for Chrissie once he had wakened up "for good." She was notallowed to see him till he had had his breakfast, for it was veryimportant to keep up his strength with nourishing food, and "if youbegin talking together, you know," said mamma, "Ferdy would getinterested and excited, and very likely not feel inclined to eatanything. That is even the way sometimes when you are both quite well."
She was speaking to Chrissie about how careful she must be, if she wereto be trusted to be with her brother, not to seem sad or dull, and yetto be very quiet--"quietly cheerful, dear," she went on, "and if Ferdyis at all cross or peevish, you must just not mind."
Chrissie looked up in surprise. Ferdy cross or peevish seemedimpossible.
"He never is, mamma dear," she said. "If ever we have little quarrels,it is almost always more my fault than his," which was quite true.
"Yes," her mother replied, "but you don't know, Chrissie, how illnesschanges people. Ferdy never has been seriously ill in his life, and--andthis sad accident is sure to tell on his nerves." She had been doing herbest to speak cheerfully, but now her voice broke, and the tears cameinto her eyes, already worn and tired-looking with the long hours ofanxiety.
Chrissie stroked her hand gently. Then she said, though hesitating alittle, "Mamma darling, won't you tell me more about Ferdy--about whatthe doctors think, I mean. I promise you I will not let him find outanything you don't want him to know. I will be very brave and--andcheerful, but I would so like to know. It isn't that he's not going toget better--that he's going to get _worse_?"
"No, dear, not that," said Mrs. Ross, drying her eyes as she spoke. "Heis a strong child, and his general health is good, but his back isinjured badly. That is the reason we are so anxious. He may get_better_. The doctors think that in a few weeks he will be able to be upand dressed and to lie on a couch, but they cannot say if he will everbe _quite_ right again. I am afraid they do not think he ever will."
"Oh, mamma," said Chrissie.
Mrs. Ross looked at her anxiously; she wondered if she had done wrong intelling her so much. And the little girl guessed what she was thinking.
"I would much rather know, mamma," she said, "much rather. It will makeme more careful when I am with dear Ferdy, and if he ever is the leastcross, I won't mind. I will try to amuse him nicely. Are you going totell Miss Lilly, mamma?"
"Oh yes, I am hoping that she will be a great help. I will see her thismorning as soon as she comes."
"Are we to do any lessons to-day?" asked Chrissie. "Is Ferdy to dolessons in bed?"
"In a few days perhaps he may," said Mrs. Ross. "He will seem better ina few days, for he has had a great shock besides the hurt to his back,and he must have time to get over it; but I think you had better do_some_ lessons, Chrissie--those that you have separately from Ferdy.Flowers or I will sit beside him a good part of the day, and I hope hewill sleep a good deal. If he does not seem much better in a day or twowe shall have to get a nurse."
"Oh, I hope not," said Chrissie. "Ferdy wouldn't like a stranger."
"Well, we shall see," said Mrs. Ross. "Now you may go to Ferdy, dear."
And Chrissie ran off. She was startled, but still not _very_ sad. Shewas so delighted to be with her brother again after a whole day'sseparation, and proud too of being trusted to take care of him. But itwas going to be more difficult for her than she knew, for, as you willremember, Ferdy had made up his mind to ask Christine if she could tellhim what the doctors really thought of him.
He looked so much better than the day before that she could scarcelybelieve there was much the matter, and he looked still better when hecaught sight of her--his whole face lighted up with smiles.
"Oh, Chrissie," he called out, "how glad I am you've come! It seems sucha long time since I saw you. You do look so nice this morning."
So she did--she was a very pretty little girl, especially when hercheeks were rosy and her eyes bright, as they were just now.
"_You_ look much better too, Ferdy," she said, "quite different fromyesterday. Have you had a good night?"
"_Pretty_ good," said Ferdy in rather a melancholy tone. "I am gettingtired of staying in bed."
Chrissie's heart sank--"tired of staying in bed," and this scarcely thesecond day of it! What would he do if it went on for weeks--perhapsmonths? She felt glad, however, that she knew the truth; it would makeher be very careful in what she said.
"I wouldn't mind so much," he went on, "if I knew how long it'd be. AndI don't like to ask mamma for fear of making her sad, _in case_ it wasto be for a long while. Chrissie," and here he fixed his blue eyes--solike his mother's--on his sister's face, "_do_ you think it'll be avery long while? Do you think," and his voice grew still more solemn,"that p'r'aps I'll never be able to stand or walk again?"
Chrissie's heart was beating fast. She was so glad to be able with truthto answer cheerfully.
"Oh no, Ferdy dear. I really do think you'll be able to get up and bedressed before very long. But I should think the quieter you keep justnow the quicker you'll get better. And it's so nice in this room, andyou can see so nicely out of the window. You don't want to get up justyet, do you--not till you feel stronger? Mamma says you'll feel muchstronger in a few days."
"Does she?" said Ferdy, brightening; "then the doctors must have toldher. I'm so glad. No, I don't really want to get up--at least I don'tfeel as if I _could_--that's what bothers me. I am not sorry in my bodyto stay in bed, but in my mind I'm all in a fidget. I keep fancyingthings," and he hesitated.
"What sort of things?" asked Chrissie. She had a feeling that it wasbetter for him to tell her all that was on his mind.
He tried to do so. He told her how the day before, when he was quitewell and so very happy, his thoughts had somehow wandered to peoplewhose lives were very different from his, and how this morning thesethoughts had come back again, the same yet different.
"Chrissie," he said, "I don't think I could bear it if I was never toget well again."
It was very hard for the little sister to keep her self-control. If Mrs.Ross had known how Ferdy was going to talk to Chrissie, very probablyshe would not have told her all she had done. But Chrissie seemed tohave grown years older in a few hours.
"And yet there must be lots of people who do bear it--just what you weresaying yourself," said Chrissie thoughtfully. "I suppose they getaccustomed to it."
"I think it must be more than getting accustomed to make them reallyseem happy," said Ferdy. "P'r'aps it's something to do with not beingselfish."
"Yes," said Chrissie, "I'm sure it has. You see they'd know that if theyalways seemed unhappy it would make their friends unhappy too. Andthen--"
"What?" said Ferdy.
"I was only thinking that mamma says people can always do _something_for other people. And that makes you happier yourself than anything, youknow, Ferdy."
Ferdy lay still, thinking.
"That was partly what was in my mind," he said at last. "Such lots ofthinkings have come since yesterday, Chrissie--you'd hardly believe. Iwas thinking that _supposing_ I could never run about, or do things likeother boys, what a trouble I'd be to everybody, and no good."
"I don't think you need think of things that way," said his sister."Papa and mamma love you too much ever to think you a trouble, and I'msure you _could_ be of good somehow. But I don't think you should beginpuzzling about things when you're really not better yet; you'll makeyour head ache, and then they might think it was my fault. Oh, Ferdy,"suddenly, "I had such a funny dream last night."
"I dreamt something too," said Ferdy, "but I couldn't remember what itwas. It was something about--"
"Mine was about birds," interrupted Christine, "about the swallows whohave a nest just over the oriel window. I thought--"
"How _very_ funny!" exclaimed Ferdy, interrupting in his turn, his eyessparkling with excitement. "I do believe mine was too. I kn
ew it wasabout birds, but I couldn't get hold of the rest of it. And now I seemto remember more, and I know I was thinking about those swallows when Ifell asleep. I was wishing I could understand what they mean when theytwitter and chirp. Tell me your dream, Chris; perhaps it'll make meremember mine."
Christine was delighted to see that Ferdy's thoughts were turned frommelancholy things--only--there was something about him in her dream. Shehoped it wouldn't make him sad again.
"I dreamt I was walking in the garden," she said, "down there on thepath just below this window. I was alone, and somehow even in my dream Iknew there was something the matter. It seemed to be either late in theevening or very early in the morning, I'm not sure which, but it wasn'tquite light, and there was a funny, dreamy sort of look in the sky--"
"What colour?" asked Ferdy.
"All shaded," said Chrissie, "something like mother-of-pearl. I've seenit in a picture, but never _quite_ like that in the real sky, though thereal sky is so very beautiful."
"That's just because it was a dream," said Ferdy sagely. "You never seethings _really_ the same as you do in dreams. That's what makes dreamsso nice, I suppose,--nice dreams I mean,--but I've sometimes felt moreunhappy in dreams than ever I did awake."
"So have I," said Chrissie.
"Well, go on," said Ferdy, "it sounds rather nice. You were walkingalong and the sky was so wonderful?"
"Yes," continued Chrissie, "I was looking up at it, and not thinking abit about you being ill, and then all of a sudden I heard somethingrustling up over my head, and then a twittering and chirping, and I knewit was the swallows come back, and then I got the feeling still morethat there was something the matter, and I began wondering if theswallows knew and were talking about it--their chirping got to sound solike talking. And at last, standing quite still and almost holding mybreath to listen, I began to make out what they were saying. The firstthing I heard was, 'It's rather sad to have come back to this,' and thenanother voice said, 'I don't like peacocks; vain, silly birds; they haveno hearts; not like us; everybody knows how much we mind what happens toour friends.' And when I heard that, Ferdy, it made me think of thepoetry we were learning last week, about the swallows coming back, youknow, and the changes they found."
"I daresay it was that made you dream it," said Ferdy.
Christine looked rather disappointed.
"No, we won't think that, then," said he, correcting himself as henoticed his sister's face, "it's really very interesting--'specially asI know I dreamt something like it that I've forgotten. What more did theswallows say?"
"The other voice said something I couldn't hear. It sounded as if onewas inside the nest, and the other outside. And then the first one said,'Well, we'll do our best to cheer him up. He needn't be dull if he useshis eyes; it's a cheerful corner.' And by this time, Ferdy, I hadremembered all about you being hurt, and it came into my mind how niceit would be if the swallows would tell us stories of all the things theysee at the other side of the world when they go away for the winter."
"I don't think it's quite the other side of the world," said Ferdydoubtfully, "not as far as that."
"Well, never mind," said Chrissie, with a little impatience, "you knowwhat I mean. If you keep interrupting me so, I can't tell it rightly."
"I won't, then," said Ferdy.
"There isn't much more to tell," continued Chrissie. "I looked up,thinking I might see the swallows or martins, whichever they are, and Icalled out, 'Oh, won't you come down and speak to me? It would be sonice for you to tell Ferdy stories about your adventures, now that I canunderstand what you say.' And I felt _so_ pleased. But I couldn't seethem, and all I heard was twittering again,--twittering andchirping,--and then somehow I awoke, and there really _was_ twitteringand chirping to be heard, for my window was a little open. It was afunny dream, Ferdy, wasn't it?"
"Yes, very," said Ferdy. "I wish you'd go on with it to-night and makethem tell you stories."
Chrissie shook her head.
"I don't think any one could dream regular stories like that," she said."But it is rather nice to fancy that the swallows know about us, andthat it's the same ones who come back every year. It makes them seemlike friends."
"Yes," said Ferdy, "it is nice. I wonder," he went on, "what sort ofthings they meant me to look at out of the window. It did rather sound,Chrissie, as if they thought I'd have to stay a long time here in bed,didn't it?"
Chrissie laughed, though a little nervously.
"How funny you are, Ferdy," she said. "How could the _swallows_ know,even if it had been real and not a dream? Still, we may a little fancyit is true. We could almost make a story of the window--of all thethings to be seen, and all the people passing. When you are able to beon the sofa, Ferdy, it might stand so that you would see all ways--itwould really be like a watch tower."
Ferdy raised himself a _very_ little on one elbow.
"Yes," he said eagerly, "I see how you mean. I do hope I may soon be onthe sofa. I think I would make a plan of looking out of one side part ofthe day, and then out of the other side. I don't think it would be sobad to be ill if you could make plans. It's the lying all day just thesame that must get so dreadfully dull."
"Well, you need never do that," said his sister, "not even now. WhenMiss Lilly comes I'm to do a little lessons first, and then I daresayshe'll come in here and read aloud to us, and when I go a walk mammawill sit with you. Things will soon get into plans."
"If I could do some of my work," said Ferdy, "cutting out or paintingthings for my scrapbook."
"I daresay you soon can," said Chrissie hopefully. She was pleased thathe had not questioned her more closely as to what the doctors had said,for fortunately her cheerful talking had made him partly forget that hehad made up his mind the night before to find out exactly everything shecould tell him.
Suddenly Chrissie, who was standing in the window, gave a little cry.
"There is Miss Lilly," she exclaimed. "I am so glad. Now she has stoppedto talk to somebody. Who can it be? Oh, I see, it's that naughty JessePiggot! I wonder why he isn't at school? She seems talking to him quitenicely. Now she's coming on again and Jesse is touching his cap. He_can_ be very polite when he likes. Shall I run and meet Miss Lilly, andbring her straight up here? No, I can't, for there's mamma going downthe drive towards her. She must have seen her coming from thedrawing-room window."
"Go on," said Ferdy. "Tell me what they are doing. Are they shakinghands and talking to each other? I daresay they're talking about _me_.Does Miss Lilly look sorry? P'r'aps mamma is explaining that I can'thave any lessons to-day."
"N--no," said Chrissie, "she's talking quite--like always, but--she'sholding mamma's hand."
"Oh," said Ferdy with satisfaction, "that does mean she's sorry, I'msure. It would be nice, Chrissie, if I was lying more in the window. Icould see all those int'resting things myself. I could see a good dealnow if I was sitting up more," and for a moment he startled his sisterby moving as if he were going to try to raise himself in bed.
"Oh, Ferdy, you mustn't," she cried, darting towards him.
But poor Ferdy was already quite flat on his pillow again.
"I _can't_," he said with a sigh, "I can't sit up the least little bit,"and tears came into his eyes.
"Well, don't look so unhappy," said Chrissie, returning to her post atthe window, "for they are coming in now, and mamma won't be pleased ifshe thinks I've let you get dull. There now, I hear them comingupstairs."
"All right," said Ferdy manfully, "I'm not going to look unhappy."
And it was quite a cheerful little face which met his mother's anxiousglance as she opened the door to usher in Miss Lilly.