XI.
_A SAD ACCIDENT._
"That's capital!" exclaimed Fred. "Give us another, Midge, will you?"
Fred had conducted himself with such becoming propriety, and hisapplause had been so hearty, that Maggie felt not only quite reconciledto his presence, but also ready to indulge him; and she answered,--
"Yes, I have one more, and it is to be instructive as well as amusing,Fred, because it is an historical charade."
"Go ahead!" said Fred, scrambling back into his seat, which he had leftto help carry Sir Percy into retirement.
The preparations for the first syllable of the historical charade werevery imposing. Two chairs were placed face to face; upon these wasmounted the table, turned upside down, with its legs in the air; to oneof the legs was tied a large feather dust-brush,--the whole arrangementsupposed to represent an oak-tree, as Maggie explained.
Maggie, Nellie, Lily, and Belle were the performers on this occasion;and in due time they all entered, escorting Sir Percy, now in thecharacter of King Charles, in full kingly costume, the red table-clothdoing duty for his robes, and a crown, a "real crown" of tinsel paperadorning his majesty's brows. He was held with some difficulty upon hishorse,--another chair turned down for the purpose,--and again Tom'swarning voice came from the store-room.
"You'd better look out with that old hobby. You'll hurt yourselves sometime, lugging him about that fashion."
But the suggestion was treated with disdain.
An old hobby indeed! King Charles an "old hobby"!
The horse--that is, the chair horse--paused beneath the tree, and then,relieved of his burden, galloped off, led by Belle; while the otherthree prepared to hoist his cumbersome majesty into the tree, he notbeing agile enough to perform that office for himself.
Maggie had proposed that two of the children should be his enemiesin pursuit; but no one was willing to take that character. Staunchlittle royalists they were, every one, and not to be reckoned among thepersecutors of the unfortunate king. So this little diversion from thetrue historical facts had been permitted to suit the occasion, all themore readily as it was feared that it would take the united strength ofthe whole four to raise him to the necessary height. Still Maggie hadnot been quite satisfied with such a very great departure from reality;and, hearing the difficulty as they worked at the carpenter's bench,Tom and Harry had good-naturedly offered to take upon themselves theobnoxious part of the king's enemies, and as soon as he was safelyhidden in the tree to rush forth in search of him, and feign totalunconsciousness as they passed beneath his place of shelter.
This being settled, and Belle, having disposed of her horse, andreturned to give a hand to the lifting process, the royal fugitive was,by the united exertions of his four devoted adherents, raised to hishiding-place. But he proved too heavy for the slight construction; andfeather duster, chair, and table toppled over together, carrying KingCharles with them.
Maggie and Lily held fast, one on either side, but the other two hadleft their hold. Fred, seeing the danger, sprang like a shot from hisseat, and his hand but just touched the old hobby-horse as it rolledover, not soon enough to prevent its fall, but in time to turn theheavy thing a little aside. It fell, carrying Lily back with it; andthe two came together to the floor, jarring the whole house. Tom andHarry rushed out, not, alas! in the play in which they had offered tojoin, but in sad and alarmed earnest; and Nora flew from her work.
Tom had Lily in his arms in an instant, but the poor little girl wasa sorry sight. Sir Percy's head had struck against hers as they felltogether, and blood was already streaming from an ugly wound just aboveher temple. But for Fred's timely touch, which turned the weight ofthe hobby-horse a little to one side, the child's head must have beencrushed, and she killed.
Oh, was not Maggie thankful that she had allowed her good-nature totriumph over her fear of being laughed at, and had consented to letFred join in their fun!
Ah! the fun and frolic were changed now,--changed to distress andalarm. Lily lay half stunned, gasping and death-like, while the criesand shrieks of the other children rang through the house, and speedilybrought her mother to the spot.
It was indeed a sad ending to the merry afternoon, and for a fewmoments the children could scarcely believe that Lily was not killed,or at least dying, so white and quiet did she lie. Never did piteouscry carry more relief to a mother's heart than that which at last brokefrom the pale, trembling lips; for Mrs. Norris too had feared that herdarling was dangerously, if not fatally injured. It must have been soindeed but for the care of the kind Father who had watched over her,and sent Fred's timely help to turn aside a portion of the threateningdanger.
"Go for the doctor," said Mrs. Norris.
But Fred, with a thoughtfulness which he sometimes showed, had alreadyasked Tom if he should not do this, and had started off with hisdirection.
The grass never grew beneath Fred's nimble feet at any time; and now,when he believed there was need for speed, he almost flew over theground, and, happily finding the doctor at home, brought him back withhim at once.
Lily had been carried downstairs and laid upon her little bed, whereher mother was doing for her all that she could, though that was notmuch, until the doctor came.
A group of frightened and distressed little faces met the good oldphysician's eye as he passed through the hall. He spoke a few cheeringwords as he went by, but as he did not yet know how much Lily washurt, he did not put much heart into his young hearers. Still it was acomfort to know that he had come, and it always did one good to see Dr.Banks' kind, helpful face.
Before the doctor arrived, Lily had opened her eyes, and smiled at hermother with a bewildered look; but when she saw the blood which wasstreaming from the wound in her head, she was frightened, and began tocry again.
But the dear old doctor soon quieted her fears, and those of heranxious mother; and the good news presently spread through the housethat he did not think her dangerously hurt. There was a deep, ugly cuton her head just above the temple, it was true, and her eye was alreadyswelling and blackening; but he had no fears that her injuries wereserious, and with some care and quiet she would soon be well again.
But Lily had had a very merciful escape, and Maggie could not besufficiently glad and thankful that she had been kind and obliging, andallowed Fred "to come to the charades," when she heard every one sayingthat but for the thrust from his hand which had turned aside the weightof the old hobby-horse, the heavy thing must have crushed the dearlittle head of her young playmate.
"It was quite a mountain of mercy out of a mole-hill of kindness,"quaintly said dear Maggie, as she wiped from her eyes the tears of joyand gratitude.
Hearing that Lily must be kept quiet, the thoughtful Harry carried awayhis sisters, and all the other little visitors, as soon as they wereassured that there was no cause for alarm, and saw them all safely totheir separate homes.
Lily lay patient and gentle under the doctor's handling, as he feltthe poor little bruised head, and tenderly cut away the hair from thewound, and bound it up; but every now and then she put up her hand,with a piteous, anxious expression, to the eye which was swelling andclosing so fast.
"Does it pain you so, darling?" her mother would ask.
"Not so very much, mamma," she would answer, "but"--and here her wordsalways came to an end.
But when the doctor was through, and the aching head laid carefully ona soft pillow, the trouble that was weighing on her mind broke forth.
"Doctor," she asked wistfully, "is my eye going out?"
"Going out? No, indeed," answered the doctor, cheerily. "I rather thinkit is going in, my Lily-bud. It is shutting up pretty tight now, itis true; but we'll take the swelling down in a day or two, and it willsoon be as useful and bright as ever."
"By Monday, Doctor?" questioned Lily, anxiously.
"Ho, no, indeed, my little woman! You will not have much use of thispeeper for a week or ten days to come. Even if you could see out of it,you must keep quite quiet, lie h
ere on the bed or on the sofa, and bepetted and nursed for a few days, or this little head may give you sometrouble."
Lily looked as if something was giving her a good deal of trouble now;for as the doctor spoke, her face grew longer and longer, and now sheburst into tears again, as she sobbed out,--
"My petticoat! O mamma, my orphan petticoat!"
"Hallo!" said the doctor, "what is that, I should like to know? I haveheard of a good many kinds of petticoats, but I never heard of anorphan petticoat before. But this will not do, my child. You _must_lie down and keep quiet."
"Do not trouble yourself about the petticoat now, darling," said hermother, gently laying her back upon the pillow, from which she hadstarted up in her distress, "I will arrange that."
"But, mamma," said Lily, piteously, "you know you said--you said thatyou could not let Nora finish it for me, and--and--oh, dear!--youcouldn't break your word, you know, and my orphan child won't have anypetticoat, and it was all my old Pro, and so what can I do? Oh, if Ionly didn't have Pro! I b'lieve he's my worst enemy."
"What is all this about petticoats and pro's, Mrs. Norris?" saidthe doctor. "Put her mind at rest if you can, or we shall be havingheadache and fever."
"Lily, darling," said her mother, "you must set your mind at rest aboutthe petticoat. You certainly cannot finish it now; but I shall not letthe little orphan suffer. By and by I will see what is best to do, butnow you must talk and think no more about it. Mamma will arrange it allfor you, and you will make yourself worse if you fret."
"Dear mamma," said Lily, "I should think you would want to arrange notto have such a bothering little thing as me for your own little girl;only I don't s'pose you do. I b'lieve mammas generally don't."
"Hush, hush, my darling," said her mother, whose own heart was swellingwith gratitude that a Higher Hand had "arranged" that her dear "littlebothering thing," as Lily called herself, was not to be taken from her,but that she was still spared to be the joy of all who loved her, the"sunbeam" of the home that would have seemed so dark without her.
Lily obeyed the soothing touch of her mother's hand, and, confidentthat she would find some way to help her out of her trouble, saidno more of the unfinished task. But it was upon her mind for allthat, as was proved when the evening wore away, and the fever andlight-headedness the doctor had feared came on. A very slight illnesswas enough to make Lily light-headed, and the blow she had received wasby no means a slight one. So it was not strange that it should havethat effect. And she talked pretty wildly about petticoats and puppies,work-boxes and rocking-horses, and had many bitter words for her enemyPro; and all her mother could say would not soothe her.
But at last she grew more quiet, and the poor little bruised headceased to wander, and she fell asleep; and when she awoke in themorning, her mind was as bright and clear as ever.
But her face was sadly disfigured, and one eye was quite closed up, sothat it was plainly to be seen that Lily would not have much use ofit for some days to come. All this would pass away in time, however;swelling and discoloration would disappear by and by; and, happily, thecut upon her head came where the scar would be hidden by her hair.
Somewhat to Mrs. Norris' surprise, Lily said no word of the petticoatall the next day; but she was very glad that it was so, and took painsto avoid any thing that might turn her thoughts that way. Lily didthink of it, however, although she said nothing; and she could not butwonder now and then how her mother would contrive to help her withoutbreaking her word. But she felt languid and ill, and it was a troubleto talk, so she let it go for the present, believing as usual that itwould come right somehow.
But on Monday morning, when Nora was dressing her, the nurse said,--
"Miss Lily, darling, I am just going to ask your mamma to let me finishyour petticoat for you. I think she'll excuse you this once, since youcannot do it for yourself."
"No," said Lily earnestly, "you must not ask mamma, Nora, 'cause itwould only give her the uncomfortableness of saying no. She told meshe would not let the little orphan suffer for my fault, and she willfind a way to make it right, though I don't know what it is, andI am too ashamed to ask her. But you know she said very surely andpos-i-tive-ly, Nora, that she would not let you finish it, if it wasnot done through my putting off; and that was the reason it was notdone on Saturday morning, as it ought to have been. I know I cannot doit now myself, but I could have done it before; and mamma can not breakher word."
Lily concluded with a sigh, for she really did not know what plan hermother could have for helping her, and she was very anxious, though, asshe said, too much ashamed to ask any more.
But it so happened that Mrs. Norris overheard this conversation, andshe was thankful to find how strong in her Lily was that sense of truthwhich would not allow her to believe for one moment that mamma could goback from her word under any circumstances. It was rather remarkablethat with all her heedlessness and volatile spirits, Lily was sostrictly truthful and upright, for they never betrayed her into anequivocation, as carelessness and want of thought are too apt to do.
The morning was not far gone before Lily's mind was set at rest on thesubject of her petticoat, for her mamma came to sit beside her, andbrought her work with her.
And what was her work?
Lily noticed it in a moment; a petticoat for a child,--not of suchmuslin as her own skirts, but coarser and stronger, just such as her"orphan petticoat" was made of.
"Mamma?" she said, with her eyes fixed upon the strips of muslin in hermother's hand.
"Yes, dear," said her mother, "you know I said the little orphan mustnot suffer through you, and I told you Nora could not finish yourpetticoat, and send it as your work, if you did not do it yourself; soI shall make this one, and send it to Miss Ashton in the place of theother."
"And tell Miss Ashton, mamma?"
"Well, yes, dear, I must. Do you not think so?"
"Yes, mamma, and I s'pose the girls must know. Even if she don't tellthem, I think I ought to when I go back to school. They ought not tothink I was industrious and good like the rest when I just put off andput off until this sad accident came, and then I really couldn't doit;" and here a great tear rolled down Lily's cheek.
"My darling," said her mother, dropping her work, and bending over tokiss the sorrowful little face, "mamma cannot bear to see you mortifiedand grieved, but she does want this to be a lesson to you, and to saveyou from future trouble and loss."
"Yes, mamma, I know," answered Lily, "and it serves me quite right; butit does make me feel very badly to know that all the other children canfeel that the little orphans are having some good of their kindness,and they do not have one bit of mine."
Mrs. Norris hesitated before she spoke again. She felt as if she couldnot bear to have her poor child so hardly punished now when she wassuffering, and had just escaped such a great danger. She could not letNora finish the petticoat, but why not finish it herself, she thought,as well as make another, and send it to Miss Ashton with a message fromLily that she had not done the whole of it herself?
Just then came a knock at the door, and, being bidden to enter, Robertbrought a note for Miss Lily, saying the messenger waited for an answer.
"It is Maggie's writing, I think," said Mrs. Norris.
Lily raised herself, and held out her hand.
"You cannot read it for yourself, dear. Shall I do it?" asked hermother.
Lily assented, and, opening the note, Mrs. Norris read as follows:--
"DEAR LILY,--We are so sorry for you, all of us, but we are so very happy you were not killed by Sir Percy Hotspur, who is very nice to play with, but not nice to fall underneath, and we are glad you are not such a victim as that. But, Lily, dear, we do not know, Bessie and I, if you have finished your petticoat for the orphan child. We did not ask you on Saturday because we thought if it was not done you wouldn't like to say so, but we thought perhaps the reason you did not speak about it was because a 'burnt child dreads the fire,' which means people don't like things that
bring them into trouble, or to speak about them. So we thought it was quite probable that it was not done, and we know you cannot finish it now, for yesterday we met Dr. Banks when we were coming from church, and he said you could not go to school, or use your poor hurt eye for a good many days. So, dear, if you would let me finish it for you, I would be very glad, and Bessie will too, and you can send it to me by Patrick. And you need not think I will have to do it all in my play-time, for mamma says I can do it in my sewing-lesson to-day, which is half an hour, and if there is any more, I'd just as lieve do it afterwards, and the heart which would not do that is not worthy of a friend, but ought to be like a man we read about the other day who lived in a tub and was cross to everybody. And do you believe, people called him a wise man!!! Which shows they must have been very stupid people in those days to call such an old cross-patch wise, and I'm glad I was never acquainted with him for I would not consider him fit to know.
"So ask your mamma to send me the petticoat if it is not done, that my true friendship may have the pleasure of finishing it. From your esteemed friend,
"MAGGIE STANTON BRADFORD.
"P.S. If a pretty bad button-hole would be any relief to your feelings instead of strings, I would just as lieve make one, but it don't look very nice."
To have seen Lily's eyes--or rather her eye, for you know there wasonly one to be seen--as her mother finished reading this letter to her!to have seen the pleading of her poor little face!
"Well, dear," said her mother, smiling back in answer to the unspokenquestion that was written in every line of her Lily's countenance."Well, dear, shall we accept Maggie's offer?"
"Oh, mamma! if you think I might," cried Lily.
"Yes," said her mother, "since dear Maggie is so good as to offer,and give up her time to you, perhaps I will let you accept. But, mydarling, I do not want you to forget that here again the consequencesof your habit of procrastinating are falling on another. Maggie isdoing the work which should have been done by you, and although, I amsure she does it willingly, and with all her heart, dear little friendthat she is, still you must own that it is hard she should have her ownshare, and part of yours too."
"Yes, mamma," answered Lily, penitently, "and I know I don't deserve tohave any of the work I have done go to the orphan that has no father ormother, and I am very thankful to darling Maggie. And, mamma, I thinkI ought to ask you to write a note to Miss Ashton, and let her tellthe other children that I did not do the whole of the petticoat, or itwould not be quite fair. 'Specially, mamma, 'cause some of them said Iwouldn't have my petticoat done, and I _scorned_ what they said, andwas very sure of myself. So it would be more true, I think, to tellthem how it was."
"Yes, darling," said her mother, glad that her little girl was sotruthful, and unwilling to take any credit that was not rightly herown; and then she kissed her, and, bringing the unfortunate petticoat,rolled it up, and sent it away to the dear little sunbeam who was soready to shed light and comfort wherever she had the power to do so.