X
THE PARTY SEPARATES
"Good-by to the little brown house!" Joel and David, Percy and Van sangout in doleful chorus, from the old stage coach; two of the boys on theseat shared by John Tisbett, the other two within as companions to Mrs.Pepper and Jasper, who were going home to start the quartette off toschool.
"Ben and I will take good care of everything, Mamsie," said Polly forthe fiftieth time, and climbing up on the steps to tuck the travelingshawl closer. Thereupon Phronsie climbed up too, to do the same thing."Don't you worry; we'll take care of things," she echoed.
"I shan't worry," said Mrs. Pepper in a bright assured way. "Motherknows you'll both do just right. And Phronsie'll be a good girl too,"with a long look into the bright eyes peering over the window casing ofthe old coach.
"I'll try," said Phronsie. "Good-by, Mamsie," and she tried to stand ontiptoe to reach her mouth up.
"Goodness me!" cried Polly, "you nearly tumbled off the steps. Throwher a kiss, Phronsie; Mamsie'll catch it."
"If that child wants to kiss her ma agen, she shall do it," declaredMr. Tisbett; and throwing down the reins, he sprang to the ground,seized Phronsie, and swung her lightly over the window edge. "There yoube--went through just like a bird." And there she was, sure enough, inMrs. Pepper's lap.
"I should like to go with you," Phronsie was whispering under Mrs.Pepper's bonnet strings, "Mamsie, I should."
"Oh, no, Phronsie!" Mrs. Pepper made haste to whisper back. "You muststay with Polly. Why, what would she ever do without you? Be mother'sgood girl, Phronsie; you're all coming home, except Auntie and Dick, ina few days."
Phronsie cast one look at Polly. "Good-by," she said slowly. "Take meout now," holding her arms towards Mr. Tisbett.
"Here you be!" exclaimed Mr. Tisbett merrily, reversing the process,and setting her carefully on the ground. "Now, says I; up I goes," hisfoot on the wheel to spring to the box.
"Stay!" a peremptory hand was laid on his shaggy coat sleeve, and heturned to face old Mr. King.
"When I meet a man who can do such a kind thing, it is worth my whileto say that I trust no words of mine gave offense. Bless you, man!"added the old gentleman, abruptly changing the tone of his address aswell as its form, "it's my way; that's all."
John Tisbett had no words to offer, but remained, his foot on thewheel, stupidly staring up at the handsome old face.
"We shall be late for the train," called Jasper within the coach, "ifyou don't start."
"Get up, do!" cried Joel, who had seized the reins, "or I'll drive offwithout you, Mr. Tisbett," which had the effect to carry honest Johnbriskly up to his place. When there, he took off his fur cap without aword, and bowed to Mr. King, cracked his whip and they were off,leaving the four on the little foot-path gazing after them, till thecoach was only a speck in the distance.
"Mamma dear," said Dick, one afternoon three weeks later (the littlebrown house had been closed a fortnight, and all the rest of the partyback in town), "when are we going home?"
"Next week," said Mrs. Whitney brightly; "the doctor thinks if all goeswell, you can be moved from here."
Dick leaned back in the big chintz-covered chair. "Mamma," he said,"your cheeks aren't so pink, and not quite so round, but I think youare a great deal nicer mamma than you were."
"Do you, Dick?" she said, laughing. "Well, we have had a happy timetogether, haven't we? The fortnight hasn't been so long for you as Ifeared when the others all went away."
"It hasn't been long at all," said Dick promptly, and burrowing deeperinto the chair-back; "it's just flown, mamma. I like Polly andPhronsie; but I'd rather have you than any girl I know; I had really,mamma."
"I'm very glad to hear it, Dick," said Mrs. Whitney, with another laugh.
"And when I grow up, I'm just going to live with you forever and ever.Do you suppose papa will be always going to Europe then?"
"I trust not," said Mrs. Whitney fervently. "Dicky, would you like tohave a secret?" she asked suddenly.
The boy's eyes sparkled. "Wouldn't I mamma?" he cried, springingforward in the chair; "ugh!"
"Take care, darling," warned his mother. "You must remember the poorleg."
Dick made a grimace, but otherwise took the pain pluckily. "Tell me,do, mamma," he begged, "the secret."
"Yes, I thought it would be a pleasant thing for you to have it tothink of, darling, while you are getting well. Dicky, papa is cominghome soon."
"Right away?" shouted Dick so lustily that Mrs. Henderson popped herhead in the door. "Oh! beg your pardon," she said; "I thought youwanted something."
"Isn't it lovely," cried Mrs. Whitney, "to have a boy who is beginningto find his lungs?"
"Indeed it is," cried the parson's wife, laughing; "I always picked upheart when my children were able to scream. It's good to hear you,Dicky," as she closed the door.
"Is he--is he--is he?" cried Dick in a spasm of excitement, "comingright straight away, mamma?"
"Next week," said mamma, with happy eyes, "he sails in the Servia. Nextweek, Dicky, my boy, we will see papa. And here is the best part of thesecret. Listen; it has all been arranged that Mr. Duyckink shall livein Liverpool, so that papa will not have to go across any more, but hecan stay at home with us. Oh, Dicky!"
That "Oh, Dicky!" told volumes to the boy's heart.
"Mamma," he said at last, "isn't it good that God didn't give boys andgirls to Mr. Duyckink? Because you see if he had, why, then Mr.Duyckink wouldn't like to live over there."
"Mr. Duyckink might not have felt as your father does, Dicky dear,about having his children educated at home; and Mrs. Duyckink wants togo to England; she hasn't any father, as I have, Dicky dear, who clingsto the old home."
"Only I wish God had made Mr. Duyckink and Mrs. Duyckink a littlesooner," said Dick reflectively. "I mean, made them want to go toEngland sooner, don't you, mamma?"
"I suppose we ought not to wish that," said his mother with a smile,"for perhaps we needed to be taught to be patient. Only now, Dicky,just think, we can actually have papa live at home with us!"
"Your cheeks are pink now," observed Dick; "just the very pink theyused to be, mamma."
Mrs. Whitney ran to the old-fashioned looking-glass hanging in itspine-stained frame, between the low windows, and peered in. "Do I lookjust as I did when papa went away six months ago, Dicky?" she asked,anxiously.
"Yes," said Dick, "just like that, only a great deal nicer," he addedenthusiastically.
His mother laughed and pulled at a bright wave on her forehead, dodginga bit to avoid a long crack running across the looking-glass front.
"Here's Dr. Fisher!" shouted Dick suddenly. "Now, you old fellow, you,"and shaking his small fist at his lame leg, "you've got to get well, Itell you. I won't wait much longer, sir!" And as the doctor came in,"I've a secret."
"Well, then, you would better keep it," said Dr. Fisher. "Goodmorning," to Mrs. Whitney. "Our young man here is getting ahead prettyfast, I should think. How's the leg, Dicky?" sitting down by him.
"The leg is all right," cried Dick; "I'm going to step on it," tryingto get out of the chair.
"Dicky!" cried his mother in alarm.
"Softly--softly now, young man," said Dr. Fisher. "I suppose you wantme to cure that leg of yours, and make it as good as the other one,don't you?"
"Why, of course," replied Dick; "that's what you are a doctor for."
"Well, I won't agree to do anything of the sort," said the littledoctor coolly, "if you don't do your part. Do you know what patiencemeans?"
"I've been patient," exclaimed Dick, in a dudgeon, "forever and ever somany weeks, and now papa is coming home, and I"--
And then he realized what he had done, and he turned quite pale, andlooked at his mother.
Her face gave no sign, but he sank back in his chair, feeling disgracedfor life, and ready to keep quiet forever. And he was so good while Dr.Fisher was attending to his leg that when he was through, the littledoctor turned to him approvingly: "Well, sir, I think th
at I canpromise that you can go home Saturday. You've improved beyond myexpectation."
But Dick didn't "hurrah," nor even smile.
"Dicky," said Mrs. Whitney, smiling into his downcast face, "how gladwe are to hear that; just think, good Dr. Fisher says we may go nextSaturday."
"I'm glad," mumbled Dick, in a forlorn little voice, and till after thedoor closed on the retreating form of the doctor, it was all that couldbe gotten out of him. Then he turned and put out both arms to hismother.
"I didn't mean--I didn't mean--I truly didn't mean--to tell--mamma," hesobbed, as she clasped him closely.
"I know you didn't, dear," she soothed him. "It has really done noharm; papa didn't want the home people to know, as he wants to surprisethem."
"But it was a secret," said Dick, between his tears, feeling as if hehad lost a precious treasure entrusted to him. "Oh, mamma! I reallydidn't mean to let it go."
"Mamma feels quite sure of that," said Mrs. Whitney gently. "You areright, Dicky, in feeling sorry and ashamed, because anything given toyou to keep is not your own but belongs to another; but, my boy, thenext duty is to keep back those tears--all this is hurting your leg."
Dick struggled manfully, but still the tears rolled down his cheeks. Atlast he said, raising his head, "You would much better let me have mycry out, mamma; it's half-way, and it hurts to send it back."
"Well, I don't think so," said Mrs. Whitney, with a laugh. "I've oftenwanted to have a cry out, as you call it. But that's weak, Dicky, andshould be stopped, for the more one cries, the more one wants to."
"You've often wanted to have a cry out?" repeated Dick, in suchamazement that every tear just getting ready to show itself immediatelyrushed back again. "Why, you haven't anything to cry for, mamma."
"Indeed I have," she declared; "often and often, I do many things thatI ought not to do"--
"Oh! never, never," cried Dick, clutching her around the neck, to thedetriment of her lace-trimmed wrapper. "My sweetest, dearingest mammais ever and always just right."
"Indeed, Dick," said Mrs. Whitney earnestly, "the longer I live, I findthat every day I have something to be sorry for in myself. But God, youknow, is good," she whispered softly.
Dick was silent.
"And then when papa goes," continued Mrs. Whitney, "why, then, my boy,it is very hard not to cry."
Here was something that the boy could grasp; and he seized it withavidity.
"And you stop crying for us," he cried; "I know now why you always puton your prettiest gown, and play games with us the evening after papagoes. I know now."
"Here are three letters," cried the parson, hurrying in, and tossingthem over to the boy. "And Polly Pepper has written to me, too."
Dick screamed with delight. "Two for me; one from Ben, and one fromGrandpapa!"
"And mine is from Phronsie," said Mrs. Whitney, seizing an epistlecarefully printed in blue crayon.
But although there were three letters from home, none of them carriedthe news of what was going on there. None of them breathed a syllablethat Cousin Eunice Chatterton was ill with a low fever, aggravated bynervous prostration; and that Mrs. Pepper and Polly were having apretty hard time of it. On the contrary, every bit of news was of thecheeriest nature; Jasper tucked on a postscript to his father's letter,in which he gave the latest bulletin of his school life. And Polly didthe same thing to Ben's letter. Even Phronsie went into a long detailconcerning the new developments of a wonderful kitten she had left athome, to take her visit to Badgertown, so the two recipients nevermissed the lack of information in regard to the household life, fromwhich they were shut out.
Only once Mrs. Whitney said thoughtfully, as she folded her letter andslipped it back into its envelope, "They don't speak of Mrs.Chatterton. I presume she has changed her plans, and is going to remainlonger at her nephew's."
"I hope she'll live there always," declared Dick, looking up savagelyfrom Ben's letter. "What an old guy she is, mamma!"
"Dick, Dick," said his mother reprovingly, "she is our guest, you know."
"Not if she is at her nephew's," said Dick triumphantly, turning backto his letter.
Polly at this identical minute was slowly ascending the stairs, a trayin one hand, the contents of which she was anxiously regarding on theway.
"I do hope it is right now," she said, and presently knocked at Mrs.Chatterton's door.
"Come in," said that lady's voice fretfully. And "Do close the door,"before Polly and her tray were well within.
Polly shut the door gently, and approached the bedside.
"I am so faint I do not know that I can take any," said Mrs.Chatterton. Whether it was her white cashmere dressing-robe, and herdelicate lace cap that made her face against the pillows seem wan andwhite, Polly did not know. But it struck her that she looked more illthan usual, and she said earnestly, "I am so sorry I wasn't quicker."
"There is no call for an apology from you," said Mrs. Chattertoncoldly. "Set the tray down on the table, and get a basin of water; Ineed to be bathed."
Polly stood quite still, even forgetting to deposit the tray.
"Set the tray down, I told you," repeated Mrs. Chatterton sharply, "andthen get the basin of water."
"I will call Hortense," said Polly quietly, placing the tray as desired.
"Hortense has gone to the apothecary's," said Mrs. Chatterton, "and Iwill not have one of the other maids; they are too insufferable."
And indeed Polly knew that it would be small use to summon one of them,as Martha, the most obliging, had airily tossed her head when asked todo some little service for the sick woman that very morning, declaring,"I will never lift another finger for that Madame Chatterton."
"My neck aches, and my side, and my head," said Mrs. Chattertonirritably; "why do you not do as I bid you?"
For one long instant, Polly hesitated; then she turned to rush from theroom, a flood of angry, bitter feelings surging through her heart, moreat the insufferable tone and manner, than at what she was bidden to do.Only turned; and she was back by the side of the bed, and looking downinto the fretful, dictatorial old face.
"I will bathe you, Mrs. Chatterton," she said gently; "I'll bring thewater in a minute."