XVI.
_WILLIE'S RECOVERY._
Willie seemed amazingly cheered up and amused by his visit, and toldeagerly of all he had heard and noticed, with a gay ring in his voicewhich delighted his mother. It was not so with Jennie, although shehad come home with her hands full of toys and picture-books, the giftsof the kind little girls she had been to see. She seemed dull, and hermother thought she was tired of play and the excitement of seeing somuch that was new and strange to her. But Mrs. Richards soon found itwas worse than this.
"I don't see why I can't keep this frock on," said Jennie, fretfully,as Mrs. Granby began to unfasten her dress, which was kept for Sundaysand holidays.
"Surely, you don't want to go knocking round here, playing and workingin your best frock!" said Mrs. Granby. "What would it look like?"
"The other one is torn," answered Jennie, pouting, and twisting herselfout of Mrs. Granby's hold.
"Didn't I mend it as nice as a new pin?" said Mrs. Granby, showing apatch nicely put in during Jennie's absence.
"It's all faded and ugly," grumbled Jennie. "I don't see why I can't bedressed as nice as other folks."
"That means you want to be dressed like little Miss Bradfords,"answered Mrs. Granby. "And the reason why you ain't is because yourfolks can't afford it, my dearie. Don't you think your mother and mewould like to see you rigged out like them, if we had the way to do it?To be sure we would. But you see we can't do more than keep you cleanand whole; so there's no use wishin'."
Jennie said no more, but submitted to have the old dress put on; butthe pleasant look did not come back to her face.
Anything like sulkiness or ill-temper from Jennie was so unusual thatthe other children listened in surprise; but her mother saw veryplainly what was the matter, and hoping it would wear off, thought itbest to take no notice of it at present.
The dress fastened, Jennie went slowly and unwillingly about her taskof putting away her own and her brother's clothes; not doing so in herusual neat and orderly manner but folding them carelessly and tumblingthem into the drawers in a very heedless fashion. Mrs. Granby saw this,but she, too, let it pass, thinking she would put things to rights whenJennie was in bed.
Pretty soon Tommy came to Mrs. Granby with some long story told in thecurious jargon of which she could not understand one word.
"What does he say, Jennie?" she asked.
"I don't know," answered Jennie, crossly. "I sha'n't be troubled totalk for him all the time. He is big enough to talk for himself, and hejust may do it."
"Jennie, Jennie," said her mother, in a grieved tone.
Jennie began to cry.
"Come here," said Mrs. Richards, thinking a little soothing would bebetter than fault-finding. "The baby is asleep; come and fix the cradleso I can put her in it."
The cradle was Jennie's especial charge, and she never suffered any oneelse to arrange it; but now she pulled the clothes and pillows about asif they had done something to offend her.
"Our baby is just as good as Mrs. Bradford's," she muttered, as hermother laid the infant in the cradle.
"I guess we think she is the nicest baby going," said Mrs. Richards,cheerfully; "and it's likely Mrs. Bradford thinks the same of hers."
"I don't see why Mrs. Bradford's baby has to have a better cradle thanours," muttered Jennie. "Hers is all white muslin and pink, fixed up sopretty, and ours is old and shabby."
"And I don't believe Mrs. Bradford's baby has a quilt made for her byher own little sister," answered the mother.
"And it has such pretty frocks, all work and tucks and nice ribbons,"said Jennie, determined not to be coaxed out of her envy and ill-humor,"and our baby has to do with just a plain old slip with not a bit oftrimming. 'Taint fair; it's real mean!"
"Jennie, Jennie," said her mother again, "I am sorry I let you go, ifit was only to come home envious and jealous after the pretty thingsyou've seen."
"But haven't we just as good a right to have them as anybody else?"sobbed Jennie, with her head in her mother's lap.
"Not since the Lord has not seen fit to give them to us," answered Mrs.Richards. "We haven't a right to anything. All he gives us is of hisgoodness; nor have we a _right_ to fret because he has made other folksbetter off than us. All the good things and riches are his to do withas he sees best; and if one has a larger portion than another, he hashis own reasons for it, which is not for us to quarrel with. And of allothers, I wouldn't have you envious of Mrs. Bradford's family that havedone so much for us."
"Yes," put in Mrs. Granby, with her cheery voice; "them's the ones thatought to be rich that don't spend all their money on themselves, thatmakes it do for the comfort of others that's not as well off, and forthe glory of Him that gives it. Now, if it had been you or me, Jennie,that had so much given to us, maybe we'd have been selfish and stingylike; so the Lord saw it wasn't best for us."
"I don't think anything could have made you selfish or stingy, JanetGranby," said Mrs. Richards, looking gratefully at her friend. "It isa small share of this world's goods that has fallen to you, but yourneighbors get the best of what does come to you."
"Then there's some other reason why it wouldn't be good for me," saidMrs. Granby; "I'm safe in believin' that, and it ain't goin' to dofor us to be frettin' and pinin' after what we haven't got, when theAlmighty has just been heapin' so much on us. And talkin' of that,Jennie, you wipe your eyes, honey, and come along to the kitchen withme; there's a basket Mrs. Bradford gave me to unpack. She said it hadsome few things for Willie, to strengthen him up a bit before his eyeswere done. And don't let the father come in and find you in the dumps;that would never do. So cheer up and come along till we see what we canfind."
Jennie raised her head, wiped her eyes, and followed Mrs. Granby, who,good, trusting soul, soon talked her into good-humor and content again.
Meanwhile, Maggie and Bessie were very full of the wonderful discoveryof the afternoon, and could scarcely be satisfied without asking AuntPatty if it could really be she who had been to the policeman's houseand carried the money to pay his debts; also, paid Dr. Dawson for theoperation on Willie's eyes. But as mamma had forbidden this, and toldthem that they were not to speak of it to others, they were obliged tobe content with talking of it between themselves. If it were actuallyAunt Patty who had done this, they should look upon her with very newfeelings. They had heard from others that she could do very generousand noble actions; but it was one thing to hear of them, as if theywere some half-forgotten story of the past, and another to see themdone before their very eyes. Aunt Patty was not rich. What she gave toothers, she must deny to herself, and they knew this must have costher a great deal. She had given up the grove, on which she had set herheart, that she might be able to help the family in whom they were sointerested,--people of whom she knew nothing but what she had heardfrom them. If she had really been so generous, so self-sacrificing,they thought they could forgive almost any amount of crossness andmeddling.
"For, after all, they're only the corners," said Maggie, "and maybewhen she tried to bear the policeman's burden, and felt bad about thegrove, that made her burden heavier, and so squeezed out her corners alittle more, and they scratched her neighbors, who ought not to mindif that was the reason. But I do wish we could really know; don't you,Bessie?"
Putting all things together, there did not seem much reason to doubtit. The policeman's children were positive that Mrs. Lawrence was thevery lady who had been to their house, and Aunt Patty had been out ontwo successive days at such hours as answered to the time when themysterious old lady had visited first them, and then Dr. Dawson.
Papa and Uncle Ruthven came home on the evening of the next day,having made arrangements that satisfied every one for the summer amongthe mountains. Porter's house, with its addition and new conveniences,was just the place for the party, and would even afford two or threeextra rooms, in case their friends from Riverside wished to join them.The children were delighted as their father spoke of the wide, roomyold hall, where they might pl
ay on a rainy day, of the spacious,comfortable rooms and long piazza; as he told how beautiful the lakelooked even in this early spring weather, and of the grand old rocksand thick woods which would soon be covered with their green summerdress. Still Bessie gave a little sigh after her beloved sea. The oldhomestead and Aunt Patty's cottage were about four miles from the lake,just a pleasant afternoon's drive; and at the homestead itself, wherelived Mr. Bradford's cousin, the two gentlemen had passed the night.Cousin Alexander had been very glad to hear that his relations werecoming to pass the summer at Chalecoo Lake, and his four boys promisedthemselves all manner of pleasure in showing their city cousins thewonders of the neighborhood.
"It all looks just as it used to when I was a boy," said Mr. Bradford."There is no change in the place, only in the people." He said itwith a half-sigh, but the children did not notice it as they pleasedthemselves with the thought of going over the old place where papa hadlived when he was a boy.
"I went to the spot where the old barn was burned down, Aunt Patty,"he said. "No signs of the ruins are to be seen, as you know; but as Istood there, the whole scene came back to me as freshly as if it hadhappened yesterday;" and he extended his hand to Aunt Patty as he spoke.
The old lady laid her own within his, and the grasp he gave it told herthat years and change had not done away with the grateful memory of herlong past services. She was pleased and touched, and being in such amood, did not hesitate to express the pleasure she, too, felt at thethought of having them all near her for some months.
About half-way between the homestead and the Lake House, Mr. Bradfordand Mr. Stanton had found board for Mrs. Richards and her boy. It wasat the house of an old farmer who well remembered Mr. Bradford, and whosaid he was pleased to do anything to oblige him, though the gentlementhought that the old man was quite as well satisfied with the idea ofthe eight dollars a week he had promised in payment. And this was tocome from Maggie's and Bessie's store, which had been carefully left inmamma's hand till such time as it should be needed. All this was mostsatisfactory to our little girls; and when it should be known that theoperation on Willie's eyes had been successful, they were to go to Mrs.Richards and tell her what had been done for her boy's farther good.
Mrs. Bradford told her husband that night of all that had taken placeduring his absence, and he quite agreed with her that it was withoutdoubt Aunt Patty herself who had been the policeman's benefactor.
"I am not at all surprised," he said, "though I own that this did notoccur to me, even when Richards described the old lady. It is just likeAunt Patty to do a thing in this way; and her very secrecy and herunwillingness to confess why she would not have the grove, or what sheintended to do with the money, convinced me that she was sacrificingherself for the good of some other person or persons."
Then Mr. Bradford told his wife that Aunt Patty meant to go home inabout ten days, and should Willie's sight be restored before she went,he hoped to be able to persuade her to confess that she had had a sharein bringing about this great happiness. He was very anxious that hischildren should be quite certain of this, as he thought it would go farto destroy their old prejudice, and to cause kind feelings and respectto take the place of their former fear and dislike.
Mrs. Bradford said that good had been done already by the thought thatit was probably Aunt Patty who had been so generous, and that thelittle ones were now quite as ready to believe all that was kind andpleasant of the old lady as they had been to believe all that was badbut two days since. She told how they had come to her that morning,Maggie saying, "Mamma, Bessie and I wish to give Aunt Patty somethingto show we have more approval of her than we used to have; so I amgoing to make a needle-book and Bessie a pin-cushion, and put them inher work-basket without saying anything about them."
They had been very busy all the morning contriving and putting togethertheir little gifts without any help from older people, and when theywere finished, had placed them in Aunt Patty's basket, hanging aroundin order to enjoy her surprise and pleasure when she should find themthere.
But the poor little things were disappointed, they could scarcelytell why. If it had been mamma or Aunt Bessie who had received theirpresents, there would have been a great time when they were discovered.There would have been exclamations of admiration and delight and muchwondering as to who could have placed them there,--"some good fairyperhaps who knew that these were the very things that were wanted,"and such speeches, all of which Maggie and Bessie would have enjoyedhighly, and at last it would be asked if they could possibly have madethem, and then would have come thanks and kisses.
But nothing of this kind came from Aunt Patty. She could not enterinto other people's feelings so easily as those who had been unselfishand thoughtful for others all their lives; and though she was muchgratified by these little tokens from the children, she did not showhalf the pleasure she felt; perhaps she really did not know how.True she thanked them, and said she should keep the needle-book andpin-cushion as long as she lived; but she expressed no surprise, anddid not praise the work with which they had taken so much pains.
"What is this trash in my basket?" she said, when she discovered them."Children, here are some of your baby-rags."
"Aunt Patty," said Mrs. Bradford, quickly, "they are intended for you;the children have been at work over them all the morning."
"Oh!" said Mrs. Lawrence, changing her tone. "I did not understand. Iam sure I thank you very much, my dears; and when you come to see methis summer, I shall show you how to do far better than this. I have aquantity of scraps and trimmings of all kinds, of which you can makevery pretty things."
This was intended to be kind; but the promise for the future did notmake up for the disappointment of the present; and the children turnedfrom her with a feeling that their pains had been almost thrown away.
"Mamma," Bessie had said afterwards, "do you think Aunt Patty was verygrateful for our presents?"
"Yes, dear, I think she was," said mamma, "and I think she meant toshow it in her own way."
"But, mamma, do you think that was a nice way? You would not have saidthat to any one, and I felt as if I wanted to cry a little."
Mamma had seen that her darlings were both hurt, and she felt verysorry for them, but she thought it best to make light of it, so said,cheerfully, "I am quite sure Aunt Patty was gratified, pussy, and thatwhenever she looks at your presents, she will think with pleasure ofthe kind little hands that made them."
"When I am big, and some one gives me something I have pleasure in,I'll try to show the pleasure in a nice way," said Maggie.
"Then you must not forget to do it while you are young," said mamma."Let this show you how necessary it is to learn pleasant habits ofspeaking and acting while you are young."
"Yes," said Maggie, with a long sigh, "and Aunt Patty ought to beexcused. I suppose, since she was not brought up in the way she shouldgo when she was young, she ought to be expected to depart from it whenshe is old. We must just make the best of it when she don't know anybetter, and take example of her."
"Yes," said mamma, rather amused at the way in which Maggie had putinto words the very thought that was in her own mind; "let us make thebest of everything, and be always ready to believe the best of thoseabout us."
All this Mrs. Bradford told to her husband, and agreed with him that itwas better not to endeavor to find out anything more till the trial onWillie's eyes was over.
Maggie's new volume of "The Complete Family" was begun the next dayin these words: "Once there was a man who lived in his home in themountains, and who always listened very modestly to everything thatwas said to him, so his wife used to say a great deal to him. And oneday she said, 'My dear, Mr. and Mrs. Happy, with all their family,and a great lot of their best friends, are coming to live with us thissummer, and they are used to having a very nice time, so we must doall we can to make them comfortable, or maybe they will say, "Pooh,this is not a nice place at all. Let us go to the sea again. These arevery horrid people!"' And the man said, 'By
all means, my dear; and wewill give them all they want, and let them look at the mountains justas much as they choose. But I do not think they will say unkind wordseven if you are a little disagreeable, but will make the best of you,and think you can't help it.' Which was quite true, for M. Happy andB. Happy had a good lesson the man did not know about, and had made amistake; and sometimes when people seem dreadfully hateful, they arevery nice,--I mean very good,--so it's not of great consequence if theyare not so nice as some people, and they ought not to be judged, formaybe they have a burden. And M. Happy made two mistakes; one aboutMrs. Jones, and the other about that other one mamma don't want me towrite about. So this book will be about how they went to the mountainsand had a lovely time. I guess we will."
Rather more than a week had gone by. Willie Richards lay on his bed ina darkened room, languid and weak, his eyes bandaged, his face palerthan ever, but still cheerful and patient. It was five days since theoperation had been performed, but Willie had not yet seen the light,nor was it certain that he would ever do so, though the doctor hopedand believed that all had gone well. They had given the boy chloroformat the time, and then bound his eyes before he had recovered hissenses. But on this day the bandage was to be taken off for the first,and then they should know. His mother sat beside him holding his thin,worn hand in hers.
"Willie," she said, "the doctor is to be here presently, and he willtake the bandage from your eyes."
"And will I see then, mother?"
"If God pleases, dear. But, Willie, if he does not see fit to give youback your sight, could you bear it, and try to think that it is hiswill, and he knows best?"
Willie drew a long, heavy breath, and was silent a moment, grasping hismother's fingers till the pressure almost pained her; then he said,low, and with a quiver in his voice, "I would try, mother; but it wouldbe 'most too hard after all. If it could be just for a little while,just so I could see your dear face for a few moments, then I would tryto say, 'Thy will be done.'"
"However it is, we must say that, my boy; but, please the Lord, weshall yet praise him for his great goodness in giving you back yourpoor, dear eyes."
As she spoke, the door opened, and her husband put his head in.
"Here's the doctor, Mary," he said, with a voice that shook, in spiteof his efforts to keep it steady; and then he came in, followed by thedoctor and Mrs. Granby.
The latter, by the doctor's orders, opened the window so as to let ina little softened light, and after a few cheerful words the doctorunfastened the bandage, and uncovered the long sightless eyes. Williewas resting in his mother's arms with his head back against hershoulder, and she knew that he had turned it so that her face might bethe first object his eyes rested on.
It was done; and, with a little glad cry, the boy threw up his armsabout his mother's neck.
"What is it, Willie?" asked his father, scarcely daring to trust hisvoice to speak.
"I saw it! I saw it!" said the boy.
"Saw what, sonny?" asked his father, wishing to be sure that the childcould really distinguish objects.
"I saw mother's face, her dear, dear face; and I see you, too, father.Oh, God is so good! I will be such a good boy all my life. Oh, will Inever have to fret to see mother's face again?"
"Ahem!" said the doctor, turning to a table and beginning to measuresome drops into a glass, while Mrs. Granby stood crying for joy at theother end of the room. "If you're not to, you must keep more quiet thanthis, my boy; it will not do for you to grow excited. Here, take this."
"Who's that?" asked Willie, as the strange face met his gaze.
"Ho, ho!" said the doctor. "Are you going to lose your ears now youhave found your eyes? I thought you knew all our voices, my finefellow."
"Oh, yes," said Willie, "I know now; it's the doctor. Doctor, was Ijust as patient as you wanted me to be?"
"First-rate," answered the doctor; "but you must have a little morepatience yet. I'll leave the bandage off, but we will not have quite somuch light just now, Mrs. Granby."
Willie begged for one look at Auntie Granby, and then Jennie wascalled, that he might have a peep at her, after which he was contentto take the medicine and lie down, still holding his mother's hand, andnow and then putting up his fingers with a wistful smile to touch thedearly loved face he could still see bending over him in the dim light.
That evening the policeman went up to Mr. Bradford's. He was asked towalk into the parlor, where sat Mr. Bradford and Aunt Patty, while oldnurse was just taking Maggie and Bessie off to bed.
"Oh, here is our policeman!" said Bessie; and she ran up to him,holding out her hand. "How is your Willie?"
"That's just what I came to tell you, dear. I made bold to step up andlet you know about Willie, sir," he said, turning to Mr. Bradford.
"And what is the news?" asked the gentleman.
"The best, sir. The Lord has crowned all his mercies to us by giving usback our boy's sight."
"And has Willie seen his mother's face?" asked Bessie, eagerly.
"Yes, that he has. He took care that should be the first thing his eyesopened on; and it just seems as if he could not get his full of lookingat it. He always was a mother boy, my Willie, but more than ever sosince his blindness."
"How is he?" asked Mr. Bradford.
"Doing nicely, sir. Rather weakish yet; but when he can bear the light,and get out into the fresh air, it will do him good; and I hope he'llcome round after a spell, now that his mind is at ease, and he's had asight of that he'd set his heart on, even if we can't just follow outthe doctor's orders."
Bessie felt as if she could keep her secret no longer. "May I,papa,--may I?" she asked.
Papa understood her, and nodded assent.
"But you _can_ follow the doctor's orders," said she, turning again tothe policeman, "and Willie can have all the fresh air he needs,--freshmountain air, he and his mother. And Maggie and I are to pay it outof the money that Uncle Ruthven gave us for the eye doctor whomthe"--here Bessie looked half doubtfully towards Aunt Patty--"the oldlady paid. And now, you see, it's a great deal nicer, 'cause if shehadn't, then, maybe, Willie couldn't go to the country."
Bessie talked so fast that Richards did not understand at first, andher father had to explain. The man was quite overcome.
"It's too much, sir, it's too much," he said, in a husky voice,twisting his cap round and round in his hands. "It was the last thingwas wanting, and I feel as if I had nothing to say. There ain't nowords to tell what I feel. I can only say may the Lord bless you andyours, and grant you all your desires in such measure as he has done tome."
Mr. Bradford then told what arrangements had been made, in order togive Richards time to recover himself. The policeman thought all thesedelightful, and said he knew his wife and boy would feel that theycould never be thankful and happy enough.
"And to think that all this has come out of that little one beingbrought up to the station that day, sir; it's past belief almost," hesaid.
"So good has been brought out of evil," said Mr. Bradford.
As soon as the policeman had gone, Maggie and Bessie ran up-stairs totell their mother the good news, leaving papa and Aunt Patty alonetogether. Mr. Bradford then turned to the old lady, and laying his handgently on her shoulder, said,--
"Aunt Patty, you have laid up your treasure where moth and rust do notcorrupt; but surely it is bearing interest on earth."
"How? Why? What do you mean, Henry?" said Mrs. Lawrence, with a littlestart.
"Come, confess, Aunt Patty," he said; "acknowledge that it is to youthis good fellow who has just left us owes his freedom from debt, hischild's eyesight, his release from cares which were almost too mucheven for his hopeful spirit; acknowledge that you have generouslysacrificed a long-cherished desire, given up the fruits of much savingand self-denial, to make those happy in whom you could have had nointerest save as creatures and children of one common Father. We allknow it. The policeman's children recognized you, and told my littleones. Why will you not openly share with u
s the pleasure we must allfeel at the blind boy's restoration to sight? Did you not see dearBessie's wistful look at you as she bade you good-night? These littleones cannot understand why there should be any reason to hide suchkindness as you have shown to these people, or why you should refuse toshow an interest you really feel. It is true that we are told not tolet our left hand, know that which is done by our right hand; but arewe not also commanded so to let our light shine before men that theymay see our good works and glorify our Father in heaven? And can we doso, or truly show our love to him, if we hide the services rendered forhis sake behind a mask of coldness and reserve? My dear aunt, for hissake, for your own, for the sake of the affection and confidence whichI wish my children to feel for you, and which I believe you wish togain, let me satisfy them that it was really you who did this thing."
The old lady hesitated for a moment longer, and then she broke downin a burst of humility and penitence such as Mr. Bradford had neverexpected to see from her. She told him how she had heard them alltalking of the policeman and his troubles, and how much she had wishedthat she was able to help him; how she had thought that the desireto have the grove was only a fancy, right in itself perhaps, but notto be indulged if she could better spend the money for the good ofothers; and how, without taking much time to consider the matter, shehad decided to give it up. Then she had half regretted it, but wouldnot confess to herself or others that she did so, and so, feelingirritable and not at ease with herself, had been impatient and angry atthe least thing which seemed to oppose her plans. The children, shesaid, had shamed her by their greater patience and submission underthe disappointment she had so unintentionally brought upon them, andnow she felt that the ill-temper she had shown had brought reproach onthe Master whom she really wished to serve, and destroyed the littleinfluence she had been able to gain with the children.
Mr. Bradford told her he thought she was mistaken here, and if thechildren could only be quite certain that it was she who had provedsuch a good friend to the policeman's family, they would forget allelse in their pleasure at her kindness and sympathy.
So Mrs. Lawrence told him to do as he thought best; and she found itwas as he said; for when Maggie and Bessie came down in the morning,full of joy at the happiness which had come to Willie and his parents,they ran at once to Aunt Patty, and Bessie, putting her little armsabout her neck, whispered,--
"Dear Aunt Patty, we're so much obliged to you about Willie, and ifwe had only known it was you, we wouldn't have felt so bad about it.Now we only feel glad, and don't you feel glad, too, when you know howhappy they all are?"
Then Maggie sidled up, and slipping her hand into Aunt Patty's, said,--
"Aunt Patty, please to forgive me for saying naughty things about youwhen I didn't know you was the queer old lady."
Aunt Patty was quite ready to exchange forgiveness; and for the tworemaining days of her stay, it seemed as if her little nieces could notdo enough to show how pleased and grateful they were; and when she leftthem, they could tell her with truth how glad they were that they wereto see her soon again in her own home.
And if you are not tired of Maggie and Bessie, you may some time learnhow they spent their summer among the mountains.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] "Chapel Gems."
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