CHAPTER XVI.
ON THE BORDERLAND.
Phronsie came into the Higby kitchen, her hands full of wind-blossomsand nodding trilliums.
"Pickering will like these," she said to herself in great satisfaction,and surveying her torn frock with composure, "for they are the veryfirst, Mrs. Higby," addressing that individual standing over by the sinkin the corner. "Please may I wash my hands? I had to go clear far downby the brook to get them."
But Mrs. Higby, instead of answering, threw her brown-checked apron highover her head.
Phronsie stood quite still.
"Why do you put your apron there, Mrs. Higby?" she asked at last. "Andyou do not answer me at all," she added in gentle reproach.
"Land!" exclaimed Mrs. Higby, in a voice spent with feeling, "Icouldn't, 'cause I was afraid I sh'd burst out crying, and I didn't wantyou to see my face. O, dear! he's had a poor spell since you went outflowerin' for him, and your pa and Dr. Bryce say he's dyin'. O, dear!"
Down came the apron, showing Mrs. Higby's eyelids very red and swollen.
Phronsie still stood holding her flowers, a breathing-space, then turnedand went quickly to the back stairs.
"Sh! don't go," called Mrs. Higby in a loud whisper after her; "it'sdreadful for a little girl like you to see any one die. Do come back."
"They will want me," said Phronsie gravely, and going up carefullywithout another word. When she reached Pickering's door, she paused amoment and looked in.
"I don't believe it is as Mrs. Higby said," she thought, drawing a longbreath, a faint smile coming to her face as she went gently in.
But old Mr. King put up his hand as he turned in his chair, at the footof the bed, and Phronsie saw that his face was white and drawn. And Dr.Bryce turned also, looking off a minute from the watch that he held, asif he were going to bid her go away.
"WHY DO YOU PUT YOUR APRON UP THERE?" ASKED PHRONSIE INGENTLE REPROACH. ]
"Phronsie," said Grandpapa, holding out both arms hungrily.
Phronsie hurried to him, a gathering fear at her heart, and getting intohis lap, laid her cheek against his.
"Oh! my dear, you oughtn't to be here--you are too young," said Mr. Kingbrokenly, yet holding her close.
"I am not afraid, Grandpapa," said Phronsie, her mouth to his ear, "andI think Pickering would like me to be here. I brought him some flowers."She moved the hand holding the bunch, so that the old gentleman couldsee it. "He likes wild flowers, and I promised to get the first ones Icould."
"O, dear!" groaned old Mr. King, not trusting himself to look.
"May I lay them down by him?" whispered Phronsie.
"Yes, yes, child," said the old gentleman, allowing her to slip to thefloor. The group around the bedside parted to let her pass, and thenPhronsie saw Polly. Mrs. Cabot was holding Polly's well hand, while herhead was on Polly's shoulder.
"Grandpapa said I might," said Phronsie softly to the two, and pointingto her flowers.
"Yes, dear."
It was Polly who answered; Mrs. Cabot was crying so hard she could notspeak a word.
Phronsie's little heart seemed to stop beating as she reached thebedside. She had not thought that she would be afraid, but it was sodifferent to be standing there looking down upon the pillow wherePickering lay so still and white, and with closed eyes, looking as if hehad already gone away from them. She glanced up in a startled way andsaw Dr. Fisher at the head of the bed; he was holding Pickering's wrist."Yes," he motioned, "put them down."
So Phronsie laid down her blossoms near the poor white face, and stoleback quickly, only breathing freely when she was as close to Polly asshe could creep, without hurting the broken arm.
"I'm dying--I'm not afraid," suddenly said Pickering's white lips. Dr.Fisher sprang and put a spoonful of stimulant to them, while Mrs. Cabotburied her face yet deeper on Polly's shoulder, her husband turning onhis heel, to pace the floor and groan. "Polly, Polly!" called Pickeringquite distinctly, in a tone of anguish.
"O, Polly, Polly! he's dying--go to him do!" Mrs. Cabot tore her handout of Polly's, almost pushing her from the chair. "Quick, dear!"
Polly put Phronsie aside, and stepped softly to the bedside; Pickering'seyes eagerly watched for her face.
He smiled up at her, "Polly," and tried to raise his hand.
She laid her warm, soft palm on the cold one lying on the coverlid. Heclasped his thin fingers convulsively around it.
"I am here, Pickering," said Polly, unable to find voice for anythingelse.
"Don't--ever--leave me," she could just make out the words, bendingclose to catch them.
"I never will," said Polly quietly.
A sudden gleam came into his face, and he tried to smile, grasping herhand tighter as his eyes closed.
"It has come," said Dr. Fisher in a low voice to Mr. Cabot; "tell yourwife," and he bent a professional ear over the white face on the pillow,while Dr. Bryce hurried forward; then brought his head up quickly, apeculiar light in the sharp eyes back of the spectacles. "He issleeping!"
* * * * *
Polly was sitting, a half-hour by the bedside, Pickering's thin fingersstill tightly grasping her hand. They had made her comfortable in aneasy chair, Jasper bringing one of Mrs. Higby's biggest cushions for herto lean her head against. He now stood at the side of her chair,Phronsie curled up on the floor at her feet.
"Don't stay." Polly's lips seemed to frame the words rather than speakthem, looking up at him.
He shook his head, resting his hand on the back of the chair. Pollytried to smile up a bit of comfort into his eyes. "Jasper lovedPickering so," she said to herself, "that he cannot leave him; but oh!he looks so dreadfully, I wish he would go and rest," and she began tohave a worried look at once.
"What is it?" asked Jasper, catching the look at once, and bending towhisper in her ear.
"You will be sick if you do not go and rest," whispered back Polly.
"I cannot--don't ask it." Jasper brought the words out sharply, withjust a bitter tone to them.
"He thinks it is strange that I ask it; he is so fond of Pickering,"said Polly to herself. "And now I have grieved him--O, dear!"
"I won't leave Pickering," she said, lifting her brown eyes quickly.
A spasm came over Jasper's face, and his brow contracted.
"Don't," he begged, and Polly could feel that the hand resting on theback of the chair grasped it so tightly that it shook beneath her.
"I ought to have remembered that Jasper couldn't leave him; he loves himso," mourned Polly. "Oh! why did I speak?"
In the room at the end of the hall Mrs. Cabot was excitedly walking thefloor, twisting her handkerchief between her nervous fingers, andtalking unrestrainedly to Charlotte Chatterton.
"I do believe this will melt Polly's heart," she cried. "Oh! it must, itmust! Don't you think it must, Miss Chatterton?"
"I don't know what you mean," said Charlotte Chatterton in a collectedmanner, as she bent over the cradle to tuck the shawl over Johnny's legswhere he had kicked it off in his sleep.
"Oh! you know quite well what I mean, Miss Chatterton," declared Mrs.Cabot, in her distress losing her habitually polite manner. "Why,everybody knows that Pickering has loved Polly since they were boy andgirl together."
Not knowing what was expected of her, Charlotte Chatterton wisely keptsilent.
"And now, why, it's just a Providence, I do believe--that is, if he getswell--that brought all this about, for of course Polly must be touchedby it. She must!" brought up Mrs. Cabot quite jubilantly.
And this time she waited for Charlotte to speak, at last exclaiming,"Don't you see it must be so?"
"I think love goes where it is sent," said Charlotte slowly.
"Sent? Well, that is just it. Isn't it sent here?" cried Mrs. Cabotimpatiently.
"I don't know," said Charlotte. Then she said distinctly, "I know loveis very different from pity"--
"Of course it is--but then, sometimes it isn't," said Mrs. Cabot
nervously. "Well, any way, Polly has almost as good as promised to marryPickering," she finished triumphantly--"so--and you are very cruel totalk to me in this way, Miss Chatterton."
Charlotte Chatterton turned away from Johnny and faced Mrs. Cabot. "Youdon't mean to say you think Polly would feel bound by what she said whenwe all thought he was dying?"
"I do, certainly--knowing Polly as I do--if Pickering took it so. And Iam quite sure he will say so when he gets well; quite sure. Polly isn'ta girl to break her word," added Mrs. Cabot confidently.
"Then I'm sure Providence hasn't had anything to do with this," saidCharlotte shortly, "and Polly shall never be tormented into thinking ither duty either," and she turned off to pick up a new gown "in theworks" for Johnny.
"What you think duty, Miss Chatterton, wouldn't be Polly Pepper's ideaof duty in the least," said Mrs. Cabot, getting back into the refuge ofher society manner again, now that her confidence in Polly grew everymoment, "so we will talk no more about it if you please," she addedicily, as she went toward the door. "Only mark my words, my dear boy andthat dear girl will be engaged, and quite the appropriate match it willbe too, and please every one."
* * * * *
"You must go back, my boy," said old Mr. King two days later. "It's justknocking you up to stay," studying Jasper's face keenly. "Goodness me! Ishould think you'd fallen off a dozen pounds. Upon my word I should, myboy," he repeated with great concern.
"Never mind me, father," said Jasper a trifle impatiently, "and as to mywork, Mr. Marlowe will give me a few more days. He's goodness itself. Ishall telegraph him this morning for an extension."
"You will do nothing of the kind," declared Mr. King testily. "What canyou do here, pray tell, by staying? You would be quite a muff in a fewmore days, Jasper," he added, "you are so down-hearted now. No, I insistthat you go now."
"Very well," said Jasper quite stiffly, "I will take myself off by theafternoon train, then, father, since I am in the way."
"How you talk, Jasper!" cried his father in astonishment. "You knowquite well that I am only thinking of your own good. What's got intoyou--but I suppose this confounded hospital we're in, has made you loseyour head."
"Thank you, father," said Jasper, recovering himself by a great effort,"for putting it so, and I beg you to forgive me for my hasty words." Hecame up to the old gentleman and put out his hand quickly, "Do forgiveme, father."
"Forgive you? Of course I will, though I don't know when you've spokento me like that, Jasper," said his father, not yet able to shake himselffree from his bewilderment. "Well, well, that's enough to say aboutthat," seeing Jasper's face, "and now get back to your work, my boy, assoon as you can, and you'll thank me for sending you off. And as soon asPickering Dodge is able to be moved home, why, the rest of us willfinish our trip, and give you that surprise party--eh, Jasper?" and Mr.King tried to laugh in the old way, but it was pretty hard work.
* * * * *
"Well, now, Polly," said Dr. Fisher, a week after as he held her atarm's length, and brought his spectacles to bear upon her face,"remember what I say, child; you are to take care of yourself, and letMrs. Cabot look out for things. It will do the woman good to havesomething to do," he added, dropping his voice. "I don't like to carryhome your face, child; it won't do; you're getting tired out, and yourmother will be sure to find it out. I really ought to stay and take careof you," and the little doctor began to look troubled at once.
"Indeed, Papa Fisher," cried Polly, brightening up, "you will do nothingof the kind. Why, my arm is doing famously. You know you said you neversaw a broken arm behave so well in all your life."
"It isn't your arm, Polly, that worries me," said Father Fisher; "that'sfirst-rate, and I shouldn't wonder if it turned out better perhaps forbreaking, but it's something different, and it quite puzzles me; youlook so down-hearted, child."
"Do I?" said Polly, standing quite straight, and rubbing her foreheadwith her well hand; "there, now, I will get the puckers and wrinklesout. There, Papa Fisher, are they all gone?" She smiled as cheerily asever, but the little man shook his head, then took off his spectacles,wiped them, and set them back on his nose.
"No; it won't do; you can't make your old father believe but what you'vesomething on your mind, Polly. I think I shall have to send your motherdown here," he said suddenly.
"O, Father Fisher!" cried Polly, the color flying over her face, "youwouldn't ever do that, I am sure! Why, it would worry Mamsie so, andbesides she can't leave King Fisher"--
He interrupted her as she clung to his arm. "I know that, but what can Ido? If you'd only promise now, Polly," he added artfully, "that youwon't tire yourself all out trying to suit Mrs. Cabot's whims--why, I'dthink about taking back what I said about sending your mother down."
"Oh! I won't--I won't," promised Polly gladly. "And now, dear PapaFisher, you'll take it all back, won't you?" she begged.
"Yes," said Dr. Fisher, glad to see Polly's color back again, and tohave her beg him for some favor. So the next half-hour or so they werevery cheery--just like old times; just as if there had been no sicknessand the shadow of a loss upon them in the past days.
"Though why we should be always acting as if we were in the midst of itnow, I don't see," said the little doctor at last. "We're allstraightened out, thank God, and Pickering mending so fast that he's aperfect marvel. It would be a sin and a shame for us to be in the dumpsforever. Well, now, Polly, remember. Whew! hear that youngster!" Thislast being brought out by Johnny's lusty shouts in the next room. "Idon't envy Mrs. Fargo her bargain, and I do pity myself having to seehim safely there."
"Oh! Charlotte will take all the care of him," said Polly quickly."She's just beautiful with him; you don't know how beautiful, PapaFisher, because you've been so busy, since you've been here, andCharlotte has kept him away from everybody so he needn't worry any one.And isn't it lovely that he is to have such a beautiful home?" addedPolly with shining eyes.
"Um--yes, for Johnny," said Dr. Fisher. "Well, good-by, Polly." Hegathered her up in his arms for a final kiss. "Oh! here's Charlotte cometo bid you good-by, too."
"Polly," said Charlotte, drawing her off to a quiet corner, as thelittle doctor went away, leaving the two girls together, "I must saysomething, and I don't know how to say it."
Polly looked at her with wide eyes.
"It's just this," said Charlotte, plunging on desperately; "Polly, don'tlet Mrs. Cabot pick at you and talk about duty. Oh! I hate to hear herspeak the word," exploded Charlotte, with a volume of wrath in her tone.
"What do you mean, Charlotte?" cried Polly in a puzzled way.
"Oh! she may--never mind how--she's quite peculiar, you know," saidCharlotte, finding her way less clear with each word. "Never mind,Polly; only just fight her if she begins on what is your duty; if shedoes, then fight her tooth and nail."
"But it may be something that I really ought to do," said Polly.
Charlotte turned on her in horror. "O, never!" she cried. "Don't you doit, Polly Pepper. Just as sure as she says you ought to do it, you mayknow it would be the worst thing in all the world. Promise me, Polly,that you won't do it."
"But, Charlotte, I ought not to promise until I am quite sure that itwouldn't be my duty to do what Mrs. Cabot advises. Don't you see,Charlotte, that I ought not to promise?"
But Charlotte was too far gone in anxiety to see anything, and she couldonly reiterate, "Do promise, Polly, do; there's Mr. Higby calling us;the carriage is at the door. Do, Polly! I never will ask you anythingelse if you'll only promise me this."
But Polly could only shake her head, and say, "I ought not," and thenJohnny had to be kissed and wrenched from Phronsie, who insisted oncarrying him downstairs to set him in the carriage, and Mrs. Cabot camein, and old Mr. King wanted a last word with Charlotte, so that at lastshe was in Mr. Higby's carryall, shut in on the back seat looking outover Johnny's head, with a pair of very hopeless eyes. But her lipssaid, "Do, Polly!"
/> And still Polly, on the flat door-stone, had to shake her head.
"I shall tell Mrs. Fisher, and beg her to come right down here,"determined Charlotte Chatterton to herself, "just as soon as I get inthe house. That is exactly what I shall do," she declared savagely, asMr. Higby whipped up the mare for the quarter-mile drive to the littlestation.