"She must have been lovely!" said Dale, as they stood looking at her for a moment before the minister read precious words from the Bible and prayed a tender prayer.
It was soon over. The simple casket was handed into the care of the undertaker until such time as Rand could secure the right place in some quiet cemetery, where he meant to put a little white stone at her head, with the initials from the wedding ring inscribed upon it.
They went back to find the baby quietly sleeping. The tension that had been with them so long relaxed for a few hours, and they all got a little much needed rest.
But the disease was by no means conquered, and when the doctor came the next time he shook his head and frowned. The little heart was not acting right, and the fearful cough came back in full force. Anxiety stalked in and took its place. Death marched into the room and glanced around, and with a mocking smile stepped just outside the door again, but lingered about, not deigning to withdraw entirely, just lingering in the offing, a continual menace. It seemed as if this state of things were going on forever, and the two partners began to lose heart, and were deeply sad of countenance.
Then one day the nurse went to lie down for an hour and left Dale in charge.
But the baby looked so white, so delicate, as if a breath would blow him away, that Dale's heart was wrung, and after the nurse was gone she knelt beside the little crib and prayed that God would do His best for the little one.
Rand, coming to the door very quietly, paused outside for an instant and then softly turned the knob and opened the door. He stood there for an instant watching Dale, and then came tiptoeing over and knelt beside her.
Quite quietly he knelt there, and in the low tone in which they had learned to converse near the little sickbed he spoke: "Oh Lord, I don't know whether I have any right to come and pray for this sweet little kid. I haven't been the right kind of Christian. I've forgotten Thee. I've lived for myself. I know I haven't been right. But, Lord, if You'll just have mercy on this poor little kid and make him get well and grow up to be a good man, I'll try to serve You after this the way I ought to have done before. But, Lord, if this isn't Your will, and there's any danger he may grow up to be bad, then please don't let him live. Do what You want to do! And forgive us for wanting this so much, if it isn't the right thing. But anyway, Lord, do what You can for our two prayers. We're partners in this, and we both want him to live to be Your child!"
His hand stole out to Dale's in a warm clasp, and then gently he lifted her to her feet, and they smiled at each other.
A few moments after that, in the gray of the early dawning, the nurse came back as they stood there together watching the baby.
She stooped over and looked at the child, touched his little relaxed hand, his forehead.
"Why! He's better!" she said, astonished. "His flesh is moist for the first time. When did this happen?"
"Just now, I think," said Dale. "We were praying, and I think it happened then." She spoke with deep conviction, and the nurse looked at her amazed.
"Yes," said Rand, "I think God heard!"
The nurse turned toward him and showed her astonishment. A young man of Rand's evident good sense and fine strength talking like that! And as if he really believed it! She couldn't make it out. For Rand had made his statement like a conviction, as if he had just received a revelation and was not afraid to let it be known.
The doctor, coming in a little later, looked with satisfaction at the tiny patient.
"He'll pull through now, I think," he said, after looking at the baby. "Man, I hated to come here this morning. I thought the little chap would be gone. I thought last night we had come to the end, but there's been a miracle wrought somehow. I'm sure I didn't do it. And I hated to see the little chap lose out after he's weathered so much."
"Yes," said Rand looking serious, "it was a miracle, I think!" And he stalked over to the window and stood looking out at the great flakes of snow that were falling thick and fast, shutting out the landscape as completely as if there had been a white curtain over the window.
"Yes, a miracle!" said Rand thoughtfully.
"Well, I think we're going to have a white Christmas this year. It certainly looks like it this morning!" said the doctor a little later, coming over to stand by the window where Rand was still watching the snow.
"It was a storm just like this the night the little fellow came," said Rand in a low, stirred voice.
The doctor gave him a quick look and glanced out the window and back to his face, with eyes full of concern and wonder.
"You don't say!" he answered sympathetically. Then swinging around toward the baby, "Well, little chap, you've weathered it pretty well so far, arriving on a snowflake as it were. We must try and keep you here and make you grow into a good strong man!"
There was a heartiness in the doctor's voice, but there was a grave look in his eyes, as if the matter still hung in the balance.
After a minute or two more of silence Rand turned and faced the doctor.
"Doctor, you're not sure about him yet, are you? You aren't perfectly certain that he is going to get well."
The doctor lifted honest eyes and spoke in a very low tone.
"Nothing in this life is certain, young man," he said. "But it's a lot more likely, a lot more possible that he may recover, than it seemed to be last night! I should say if we can get him through the next two or three days, we could reasonably feel that he was on the highway to recovery. But you certainly have a right to be cheered this morning, for frankly the change seems nothing short of a miracle to me."
That morning Dale took a long nap, her heart more at rest than it had been since the baby was first taken sick, and when she came back into the big room where the baby lay she saw that Rand was kneeling again beside the crib, his head bowed. His whole attitude was one of humble surrender to a higher power, and when he heard her enter the room he rose and the light in his face was like the light from another world.
The nurse appeared on the scene almost at once, so they did not talk, except to ask her how she thought the baby looked now, and they took a careful joy from her encouragement.
That night Rand went away early. He said he had some work to do that he must finish tonight.
He was not far to reach if they should want him. But the nurse assured him that everything was going well, so he need not worry.
Dale took the first part of the night on watch, and about midnight the nurse came on, and Dale went to her rest, sinking into a sweet refreshing sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She had intended to do a lot of thinking that night, but sleep took her unawares.
She looked fresh and rested the next morning when Rand came in, a troubled look in his eyes.
"I've got to go on a journey," he said, looking anxiously toward the crib. "At least my editor wants me to, and I suppose I should, since I've just been promoted to larger things, and it behooves me to earn my wages of course. How is the boy? Do you think I should go? I won't stir a step no matter what they say if you think it will worry you to have me gone. I'm not so much good at nursing of course, but if I'm here there are always things I might do if there were need."
"I don't see why you shouldn't go," said Dale. "Of course you ought to. You mustn't lose your job when you've been spending so much money. And anyway, it's time I did something in this partnership."
"You?" he smiled. "You're the most important member of the firm. But honestly, I don't need to go if you think I ought not."
"Why shouldn't you go? The doctor said last night we were almost out of the woods."
"Almost?" he said with a troubled look. "I don't like the implied possibility."
"Oh, but we'll be very careful of the little fellow, and you'll be surprised how well he'll look when you get back."
She tried to speak in a cheery voice, but her heart was failing her at the thought of his going. What if something should happen while he was gone, and she would be responsible! After all it was his baby--he had found it!
br />
"How long would you be gone?" she asked with a desolate note in her voice.
"About four days at the lowest estimate, maybe five," he said, and his own voice sounded as if he were announcing a trip around the world. "It's some kind of a political conference, and the editor thinks I'm the only one on the paper fitted to cope with the subjects that will come up, and cover them as they should be covered. It's an honor of course, and at any other time I would be shouting with glee, but just now I can't bring myself to be glad over it. I don't want to leave until this boy is all out of the woods, and ordinarily safe."
"Oh well, that of course is nonsense! Certainly you must go. Don't you think I'm worth anything at all? I can love that baby and care for him and be as anxious over him as you can, and aren't we partners? Can't you trust me just a little? Besides the nurse is inordinately wise and capable, and I'll promise to obey her and the doctor to the very letter."
He smiled tenderly down at her sweet, earnest eyes.
"Of course," he said, "but I just don't like to leave you. However, I'll see what the doctor says. It may of course mean a lot to the kid afterward if I'm making enough to finance him comfortably through his life. And anyway four days isn't much, and we have the telephone, and airplanes."
"Oh! Airplanes!" said Dale with a shadow of worry in her eyes. "They still seem kind of awful to me."
Rand laughed.
"Someday I'll have to get time off and take you for a ride in one," he said with a mischievous grin.
Then when the doctor came and was consulted he said at once, "Why sure! Go! There's no reason in the world why you should stay here. The little kid is holding his own nicely. And besides, the little lady'll carry on. Women do, you know. And sometimes make a better job of it than the men do."
So in an hour Rand was gone, flying through the sky, the sky that had sent down such billows of snow, and might again at any time!
She didn't voice her fears. She didn't want him to know she cared, was so fearful for him. She even tried to persuade herself that it was because she dreaded the responsibility without him. That she wasn't really worried about him for his own sake. But her face was sad as she went about the little apartment and picked up the tiny garments that had been discarded for fresh ones, and made the place look tidy and pleasant. Though as she did it she marveled at what a difference it made in a place, even a rented apartment, when there was no man in it. Well, that was ridiculous. For a girl who was independent and had her living to earn pretty soon, she shouldn't go around and get maudlin because there was no man in the house. There was a dear baby, and he was really getting better, and that ought to be enough for any lonely heart. So she went by herself and thanked God several times that He was answering prayer and making the baby get well. And then she added that earnest plea that He would care for Rand and bring him safely back to them.
That afternoon the nurse insisted that she should go out for a walk. She didn't want to go. She felt her place was here where her responsibility lay, but at last she yielded. She took her way to the post office and found two letters awaiting her in the General Delivery. She left her apartment address and hurried on to the bank, scarcely stopping to see who had written her about her uncle's inheritance. Somehow that seemed a thing of very little interest just now. Of course, if it amounted to anything it might help her later if she found any chance to do anything for the baby, but it wouldn't, it couldn't, be enough to make anything nice possible. Not any more than a pretty garment, or a toy when he was old enough to care for toys.
It was snowing again when she came out of the bank and hurried back to the apartment. She looked up into the wide lowering gray sky that was dotted with whiteness, and thought of a plane flying high about it all. She wondered if Rand had reached Chicago yet, and whether he had forgotten all about the baby by this time. Of course, men didn't carry burdens like that very long, not when they had business cares upon them. And she had gathered that this was a very important trip for him and would have to do with his future success in his chosen profession.
Back in the apartment she removed her snowy coat and hat, carefully put on a dry dress, that no dampness should come near the precious baby, and telling the nurse to take a nap, went and sat down near the sleeping baby to read her letters, but her eyes were gazing far away into the snowy sky and seeing a plane go venturing far above the world and the storm.
Chapter 11
The first letter was from the agent regarding her inheritance, which it appeared was not an inheritance at all, but money that had been put in her name from time to time, during her girlhood. It enclosed papers that she was to fill out and sign in the presence of a competent witness, establishing her identity. It suggested that she go to the bank through which they had first made contact with her, and have the papers made out in legal form. Then on her coming twenty-first birthday the money would be placed in the bank to her account, and she would be at liberty to draw upon it. There was also enclosed a check of several hundred dollars, which represented the interested on her money for the last six months.
Dale sat stupefied and gazed at that magic little piece of paper, which the letter said belonged to her. Gazed at it in wonder and couldn't make it seem real.
Here she had been in dire distress for her daily bread, mourning because she had so little to tide her over till she found a job, grieving that she had no possible means of taking care of this dear baby herself, if it should be in danger of being sent to an orphanage. And she had all this wealth!
For the instant her brain was too numbed to calculate what the whole sum of her capital was, but it seemed enormous to her. From nothing to plenty! That was how she had come! And it was the Lord's doing, that she knew! A direct answer to prayer. More than an answer to her prayer, for she had never asked for much, not even for plenty. "Just a little bit of money!" she had pleaded, and it was quite awhile ago. Those days during the baby's illness had seemed so long that she had almost forgotten that she had asked for money. She had entirely forgotten that some money was coming sometime. During these last few strenuous days her whole mind had been taken up with the baby and nothing else had seemed to matter.
How was it that a little human mite like that had so entered into her soul and drawn her love? Probably she was going to have another struggle by and by when--but no! This money would make it possible for her to take care of that baby now!
Still it wasn't her baby. It really belonged to Rand. He had found it. She couldn't just pick it up and carry it off without his wish of course. And it was going to be terribly hard to give it up. Tears welled into her eyes as she thought about it.
And because the nurse was going about in the room, putting things to right, getting the baby ready for his evening meal, and she didn't want the nurse to see her tears, she stuffed the letter into its envelope and took up the other one.
The writing looked strangely familiar as she studied it thoughtfully. Somehow it carried her back into her school days. Why was that? Was that from Sam Swayne? It must be. She remembered now that was the way he used to curl his capital S.
It stirred her curiosity only slightly. She had left Sam as far behind in her world as her little girlhood days. He used to be a nice boy, nothing more, and he got awfully annoying when he was always trying to hold her hand. She had never had any inclination to hold hands with any of the boys.
Sam was nice, of course. Well brought up and a hard worker, he was active in the church and Sunday school, at least he was the one who passed around the roll books for the classes, and always distributed the singing books, and the Sunday school papers, and sang in the young men's quartet. He hadn't a very wonderful voice, but he sang accurately, and he could always be depended upon. He was never late anywhere and could always be relied on to serve well on any committee.
She remembered now as keenly as when it happened, how Sam had come to her after his mother's funeral, his new felt hat in his hand, set accurately in the creases they had put in it in the store when he boug
ht it, and twisting it around and around in his hands had told her that he had always liked her and he thought it would be nice if they could get married and settle down together. He said he hadn't money enough yet to buy a house, but he had a good job, and he thought they could manage for a couple of years till he could save a down payment, and then she could pick out any house in reason that she'd like.
She had wanted to laugh, but she hadn't. She had felt sad for him. He looked so young and boyish, and her sorrow had made her feel so old. Then he had told her she was too pretty to go out and work and that he'd like to take care of her the rest of his life, if she just wouldn't mind going easy at the start till he could get on a little.
She had smiled at him and told him she was sorry, but she couldn't marry anyone now. Told him she didn't love him. That he was only a good friend and she would always cherish him as a friend.
But he hadn't given up. He had told her very earnestly that he loved her a lot and that she would get tired of working for herself and find out she'd like him to take care of her. He said when he got money enough for a down payment for a house he meant to write to her and tell her to come on and select it.
So she turned to his letter with a curious wonder whether he had been true to his words since he had promised. Poor Sam! Hadn't he got over his infatuation yet? She would hate to have to go all over it again.
Then she turned to the letter and read:
Dear Dale:
It seems a long time since you went away, and it's been deadly lonesome without you. I guess you don't know how a fellow feels when he loves a girl and she turns him down and goes away off and he can't find out for the longest where she is! I think you might have been kind enough to send me your address.