CHAPTER XIV
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
Ever since they had lived in the valley, it had been Nelly's habit,when she got up in the morning, to go at once to the eastern windowin her room and look out at Pike's Peak. She loved the mountain nowjust as much as she had when she first saw it; and her first thoughtin the morning always was:--
"I wonder if Pike is clear."
The next morning after Mr. Kleesman's letter came, Nelly slept late.She had been out all the day before with Rob, who had fished fardown the creek, and led her a long, hard chase through the grapethickets and wet meadows. They had caught two basketsful of trout,which were pretty heavy to lug home; and both Rob and Nelly were sotired that they went to bed the minute they had eaten supper, andhardly spoke while they were undressing. When Nelly waked, she knewby the light in her room that it must be late. She sprang up and ranto the window. As soon as she looked out, she exclaimed "Why!" andrubbed her eyes and looked again. She could not believe what shesaw.
"Rob! Rob!" she called. But Rob was fast asleep, and did not hearher. She slipped her feet into her slippers, and ran into his room(he slept in a tiny room opening out of hers: it was not much biggerthan a closet, and only held a little narrow bed and one chair).
"Rob! Rob!" she said, shaking him, "get up! Come look out of thewindow."
"You let me be," said Rob, sleepily: "what is it?"
"Tents! Rob, tents! Four splendid great tents, right close to thewheat-barn. Do get up! Who do you suppose it is?"
"Tents!" cried Rob, as wide awake in one second as if the house wereon fire, "tents! hurrah! I hope it's those men with instruments thatcame last summer. I'm going right down to see." And Rob bounced outof bed, and began to toss his clothes on at a furious rate. Nellyalso made great haste; and, in less time than you would have thoughtpossible, the two children were dressed and out in the lane, walkingtoward the tents. When they got there, they had had their walk fortheir pains: the tents were all closed up tight,--not a sign of lifeabout one of them. Rob and Nelly walked round and round, like twolittle spies, trying to find out some sign by which they could tellwhat sort of people had come into their territory; but they couldnot.
"I know one thing," said Rob: "they've got splendid wagons andhorses." There were six fine horses grazing in the field; and therewas a nice covered carriage, besides the heavy white-topped wagon.
"What do you suppose the other two horses are for?" said Nelly."They don't have four to draw the wagon: do they?"
"I guess they're horses to ride," said Rob: "one of them isn't muchbigger than a pony. Oh, dear! I think they're real lazy people notto get up." And Rob and Nelly walked back to the house quitediscontented. When they told their mother about the tents, shesaid:--
"Oh, yes, I know it. The party came late last night, after you hadgone to bed. They sent up to the house for milk; they were verytired; they had come all the way from Canyon City. There's a littlelame boy in the party; and the motion of the carriage hurts him. Hewas quite sick last night, the nurse said."
"Oh!" said Nelly: "poor little fellow! That's the reason theyweren't up, then. I'm real sorry for him. Can't we go down there, byand by, and see him?"
"Yes, I think so," said her mother: "this afternoon, perhaps."
Rob and Nelly sat down on the barn-doorsteps, and watched the tents.It seemed a long time before anybody stirred. At last, a man cameout of the tent which was nearest the barn. He stood still for aminute, looking up and down the valley. Then he gave a great stretchand yawned very loud, and walked off towards the field where thehorses were.
"That's their man," said Rob: "he's going to water the horses. Imean to go and talk to him."
"Oh, no, don't!" said Nelly: "let's see who comes out next."
In a few minutes more, there came out of the next tent a stoutwoman, with a white cap on her head. The cap had thick flutedruffles all round the front.
"Oh! what a funny cap!" said Rob. "That must be the little boy'smother."
"No," said Nelly, "I don't think so. I think that's the nurse. Mammasaid there was a nurse."
"Oh, yes!" said Rob; "she must be the nurse."
The nurse stood looking, just as the man had, up and down thevalley. Nobody could see that beautiful view without wanting tostand still and look at it.
"She's looking at Pike now," said Nelly. "I wonder if she ever sawsuch a mountain before."
The woman stood a long time without moving: then she turned andwalked slowly back to the tent. As she walked she kept looking backover her shoulder at the mountains.
"Ah! ah!" said Nelly; "see how she looks at the mountains!"
"I should think she would," said Rob. "But I wish the boy'd comeout."
The nurse went into the tent; and presently came out, bringing achair all folded up into a flat shape: this she set down on theground in the shadow of the tent, and unfolded it, and kept onunfolding it, till it was about as long as a lounge.
"Hullo!" said Rob, "what sort of a chair is that?"
"For the sick boy, I guess," said Nelly. "It's a kind of bed."
Then the nurse brought out pillows and blankets, and put them in it,and then she brought out two pretty bright rugs, and spread themdown, one in front of the chair and one at its side. Next shebrought out a little table, and set it close to the chair. On thisshe spread a white cloth.
"I guess he's going to have his breakfast on that," said Nelly.
Then the woman went into the tent, and did not come back again. In afew minutes another man came out of the tent out of which the firstman had come. This man did not look about him at all. He ran to theplace where the stove stood, and began making a fire in a greathurry.
"Oh, ho!" cried Rob: "two men! I say, Nell, they must be awfullyrich folks. They've got a cook, and a driver, besides the nurse. Iwish that boy'd come out."
"I guess if he's sick he won't get up early," said Nelly. "Don't youremember how you used to have to lie in bed when we were at home,Rob?"
"Oh, my! I guess I do!" said Rob. "Wasn't it horrid! I'd aslief die as be like that again. I haven't been sick once since we cameto Colorado: have I, Nell?"
"No," said Nelly. "Don't you remember you used to say I ought to besick half the time: it wasn't fair for me not to be sick any and foryou to be sick all the time?"
"Did I?" said Rob: "that was real mean of me. I wouldn't say sonow."
While they were talking, they suddenly saw the nurse come out again,and call the cook. He went in to the tent with her, and, in a momentmore, they came out again, bringing in their arms a little boy aboutRob's size.
"Oh, goodness!" cried Rob: "can't he walk? Pshaw! I hoped he'd gofishing with me! He won't be any fun."
"Why, Rob March!" exclaimed Nelly: "you're a selfish thing. How'dyou like to be lame like that and not have anybody sorry for you?"
"Why, Nell, I am real sorry for him: I mean I expect I should be ifI knew him; but I did hope he'd go round some with me. I haven't hada boy since we came to Colorado."
Nelly looked hurt.
"I'm sure I go everywhere that you do," she said. "You don't everhave to be alone."
"I know it, Nell," replied Rob, meekly: "you're as good as any girlcan be,--lots better than most girls; but a boy's different. You'dlike a girl sometimes yourself: you know you would."
"I wouldn't either," retorted Nelly: "I'd rather have you than anygirl in the whole world."
The little sick boy had sharper eyes than the nurse had. She had notseen the two children sitting on the barn-doorsteps: but the boyspied them in a minute, and said to his nurse:--
"There are a boy and a girl sitting in that barn-door. Give me myopera-glass: I want to see what they're like."
Then Nelly and Rob saw the boy lift up a round thing to his eyes,and point it at them.
"He's looking at us, Rob," said Nelly, "through that thing: I saw agentleman have one in the cars. I shall go away: I don't want him tolook at us."
"Stop!" said Rob: "he's put it down. He's talking to his n
urse."
This is what the boy was saying:--
"Flora, please go across there and ask that boy to come here: I wantto see him. Tell him I'm sick. I want to ask him if there are anybirds here,--if he can't get me a lark."
"Now, Master Arthur," the nurse replied, "you just wait till yourmamma gets up, and ask her. Perhaps she wouldn't want you to havethat boy play with you."
"You go along this minute," said Arthur, beginning to cry: "if youdon't I'll cry. You know the doctor said I was not to be crossed inany thing. You go along, quick! Stay! you tell them both to comehere."
The nurse walked away, muttering under her breath:
"And a fine life ye'll lead them, if ye get them under your thumb,to be sure! It's a thousand pities you ever heard that speech of thedoctor's, you poor thing."
"She's coming over here, Rob," said Nelly, as she saw the womanwalking in their direction: "what do you suppose she wants?"
"Milk or eggs, I guess," said Rob. "I can get her some splendidfresh eggs right behind this door. Old Spotty's got her nest inthere now. The weasels got into her old nest and she won't lay thereany more."
When the nurse reached the door, she said very politely to thechildren:--
"Good morning, children. Do you live here?"
"No, ma'am," said Rob, gravely.
Nelly looked at him indignantly.
"Why, Rob!" she began. But Rob went on:--
"Our oxen and cows and hens live here: we live in the house overyonder."
Nelly laughed out, and so did the nurse.
"You have a droll tongue in your head, my boy," she said. "I came toask you if you wouldn't come over to the tent there and see MasterArthur. He's in the chair there: see him? He's lame: he can't walk."
"What's the matter with him?" asked Nelly. "Was he always lame?"
"Oh, no!" said the nurse: "he got a fall when he was about six yearsold, and he's been lame ever since: he's twelve now. But I must goright back: he don't like to be alone a minute. Will you comeacross?"
Rob looked at Nelly.
"Mamma said we might go this afternoon," he said: "do you thinkshe'd care if we went now?"
"We'd better go and ask her," answered Nelly. "You tell the littleboy we've gone to ask our mother if we may come," she said to thenurse, and ran off with Rob to the house as fast as feet could go.
The nurse looked after them, and sighed.
"Well, those are well-brought-up children, whosever they are, to befound out in this wilderness. Oh, but I'd like to see Master Arthurrun like that."
Flora had been little Arthur's nurse ever since he was a baby; and,though she was often out of patience with him, she loved him dearly.When she went back and told him what the children said, he mutteredfretfully:--
"Oh, dear! they needn't have gone to ask. Can't they go two stepswithout getting leave? I should think they were babies. They lookedas old as I am."
"They're older, Master Arthur," replied Flora. "I think they are asmuch as thirteen: the girl is, at any rate."
"Is the boy nice?" asked Arthur.
Flora laughed.
"He's funny," she replied. And then she told Arthur what Rob hadsaid when she asked him if he and his sister lived there.
Arthur smiled faintly: he hardly ever laughed. His back ached allthe time, so that he could very seldom forget it; and this constantpain made him very nervous and irritable.
"You go up to the house and ask their mother to let them come," hesaid.
"Well, dear," Flora replied, "I will, if they don't come in a fewminutes. But I'm sure they'll come, for they said their mother hadtold them they might come this afternoon; and I'm sure she'll letthem come now instead."
"They can come in the afternoon too," said Arthur. "I want them allthe time."
"Well, well: I dare say they'll like to stay with you, and read yourbooks, and see your things, very much," said Flora.
"I'll show them my microscope," said Arthur: "that's the only thingI've got that's good for any thing. The books are no good."
Just now the cook came up, bringing Arthur's breakfast on a tray. Itlooked very nice: milk-toast, and baked apples, and poached eggs,and a cup of nice cocoa. It was wonderful what good things Ralphused to cook, in that little bit of a camp stove, out of doors.Ralph had lived in the family as long as Flora, and loved poorArthur just as well as she did. It was into the area in front of thebasement that Arthur had fallen when he got his terrible hurt; andRalph had picked him up and carried him upstairs in his arms,thinking all the way that he was dead. Ralph often said that he'dnever forget that time,--not if he should live to be a thousandyears old! He often told the story to people they met on theirjourneys. Everybody took an interest in poor Arthur, and wanted toknow how he came to be so lame; but nobody liked to ask his fatheror mother: so they would ask Flora or Ralph. Ralph was anEnglishman, and he had a very queer pronunciation of all wordsbeginning with _h_. He dropped the _h_'s off such words, and he putthem on to other words; which made his sentences sound very queerindeed.
"It was just about height o'clock," he would say, "an' I'd just inmy 'and the 'ot water for the master's shaving; an' Thomas 'ee was atakin' hof it out o' my 'and, when we 'ears such a screech, such ascreech, and the missus she come a flyin' hover the stairs,--I'mblessed hif 'er feet so much as lighted hon 'em,--an' she screechingscreechin', an' 'ollerin'; an' the same minute I 'ears a noise tothe front o' the 'ouse, an' a perliceman a knockin' at the airydoor, an' the missus she got to't fust; an' if it wan't a meraclewat was it, for 'er to 'ave come down two flights o' 'igh stairs inless time than I could 'urry across the 'all? An' I takes MasterHarthur out o' the perliceman's 'ands; an' 'is little 'ead a 'angingdown 's if 't 'a' been snapped off. Oh! if it seemed one minuteafore I got 'im hup to the nursery it seemed a 'undred years; an'the missus she was never 'erself again,--not till she died. Sheallers said as 'ow she'd killed 'im 'erself. You see 'ee was allalone with 'er in 'er bedroom, an' she never noticed that 'ee 'adgone to the window. She was never 'erself again,--never: she'd sitan' look at 'im, an' look at 'im, an' the tears'd run down 'er facefaster'n rain. But she couldn't 'old a candle to this missus, in norespects: not to my way o' thinkin'. It's a 'ard thing to say of'er, bein' she's dead; but it's my 'onest opinion that she's betterin 'eaven than hearth, an' all parties better suited."
This was Ralph's story of the accident, and he told it wherever theywent. Every one was much surprised to hear that Mrs. Cook was notArthur's own mother; for no own mother could have shown morepatience and love than she did. She had never left Arthur for awhole day or a whole night since she became his mother; and itseemed as if she really thought of little else except how to inventsome new thing to amuse him, and keep him from remembering his pain.
Just as Arthur had begun to eat his breakfast, he looked up and sawRob and Nelly coming out of the door of the house. He pushed awayhis plate, and cried:--
"Take it away! take it away! I won't eat another mouthful. That boyand girl are coming. Take it away!"
"Oh, Master Arthur," said Flora: "indeed you must eat some more.You'll never get well if you don't eat."
"I won't! I won't! I tell you take it away," screamed Arthur. "I amnot hungry. I hate it!"
Poor Arthur never was really hungry.
"Your mamma will be very unhappy when she comes out if you have noteaten any thing," said Flora.
Arthur's face fell.
"Well, give me the cocoa, then, quick!" he said: "I'll drink that,just to please mamma: that's all. She don't make me eat when I don'twant to."
At that moment Mrs. Cook came out of her tent, and hurried toArthur's chair.
"My darling," she said, "mamma was a lazy mamma, wasn't she, thismorning? Have you had a nice breakfast? Papa will be out in aminute."
"Mamma! mamma!" cried Arthur, "see that boy and girl, the other sideof the fence: they're coming over to see me. I sent Flora afterthem. I wish they'd hurry. Don't they walk slow?"
Mrs. Cook looked inquiringly at Flora, who explained that
MasterArthur had spied the children sitting in the barn-door, and thatnothing would do but she must go over and ask them to come and seehim.
"They seem to be most uncommon nice-spoken children for these parts,ma'am," said Flora; "and the little girl she wouldn't come, nor lether brother come, till she'd gone into the house and asked leave oftheir mother."
Mrs. Cook was gazing very earnestly at the children, as they walkedslowly towards the tent. In a moment more she sprang to her feet,and took two or three steps forward, and exclaimed, "Why, it is! itis my little Nelly!" and, to Arthur's great astonishment, he saw hismother run very fast to meet the children, and throw her arms roundthe little girl's neck, and kiss her over and over again.
Nelly was so astonished and bewildered she did not know what to do.She could not see the face of the lady who was kissing her for sheheld her so tight she could not look up; and, when she did look up,she did not at first know who the lady was.
"Why, Nelly, Nelly!" she cried; "have you forgotten me? Don't youremember I came on in the same car with you? Why! I've been lookingfor you and asking for you all over Colorado."
Then Nelly remembered; but still she looked bewildered.
"Oh, yes! Mrs. Williams. I remember you very, very well," she said;"but you don't look a bit as you used to."
"Come here! come here!" shouted Arthur; "come right here, all ofyou! Mamma, who is this girl, and what makes you kiss her?"
Arthur had been so long used to being the only child, and having allhis mother's affection showered upon him, that he really feltuncomfortable to see her kiss another child.
"Why, Arthur! Arthur!" exclaimed his mother, leading Nelly and Robtowards him; "don't speak so. These are old friends of mamma's thatshe knew before she ever saw you. Don't you recollect my tellingyou about the little boy in the cars, that threw away the onions,and the little girl that had the nice wax doll all broken in thecrowd? These are those very same children; and isn't it wonderfulthat we should have found them here? I am very glad to see them:Nelly, Rob, this is my little boy, Arthur, and he will be more gladto know you than you can possibly imagine; for he can't run about asyou do. He has to lie in this chair all day."
While she was speaking, Arthur had been looking very steadily atRob. He did not take much notice of Nelly. As soon as his motherstopped speaking, Arthur said to Rob:--
"How do you do? Mamma told me all about your throwing away the man'sonions ever so long ago, and I used to make her tell me over andover and over again, till she said it was almost as bad as havingonions in the house. Didn't you have fun when you did it?" andArthur laughed harder than he had been seen to laugh for a longtime.
"Why, no!" said Rob; "I don't think it was much fun. I don'tremember much about it now; but I know I felt awfully mean: you seeI felt like a thief when the man began to look for his onions."
Nelly was standing still, close to her new-found friend. She wasthoroughly bewildered; she looked from Mrs. Williams to Arthur, andfrom Arthur to Mrs. Williams, and did not know what to make of itall: and no wonder. When Mrs. Williams bade Nelly good-by in Denverthree years before, she was a thin, pale lady, dressed in thedeepest black, and with a face so sad it made you feel like cryingto look at her. She wore a widow's cap close around her face, and along, black veil; and she was all alone with her nurse; and she hadno little boy. Now she was a stout, rosy-faced lady; and she wore abright, dark-blue cloth gown, looped up over a scarlet petticoat;and on her head she wore a broad-brimmed straw hat with scarletpoppies and blue bachelor's buttons round the crown. At last Nellycould not contain her perplexity any longer.
"Oh! Mrs. Williams," she exclaimed; "what does make you so prettynow?"
"That isn't my mamma's name," cried Arthur; "her name is Mrs. Cook.Wasn't she pretty when you saw her in the cars? She's always prettynow."
Mrs. Williams laughed very hard, and told Nelly she did not wonderthat she was surprised to see her look so differently.
"I often think, when I look in the glass now," she said, "that Ishouldn't know my own self, if I hadn't seen myself since threeyears ago."
Then she led Nelly to one side, and explained to her that she hadmet Arthur and his papa up at Idaho Springs, where she had goneimmediately after leaving Nelly in Denver. Mr. Cook had taken Arthurthere, to see if the water in the Idaho Springs would not cure hislameness. They had all lived in the same hotel at Idaho all winter,and in the spring Mrs. Williams had been married to Mr. Cook, andhad thus become Arthur's mother. Mr. Cook's home was in New York;but they had come to Colorado every summer for Arthur's sake. Healways was much better in Colorado. While they were talking, Mr.Cook came out of his tent; and surprised enough he looked to see hiswife sitting on the ground with a little stranger girl in her lap,and Arthur in eager conversation with a boy he had never seenbefore. He stood still on the threshold of the tent for a moment,looking in astonishment at the scene.
"Oh, Edward! Edward!" exclaimed Mrs. Cook, "this is my littlefriend! Think of our having found her at last, down in this valley!"
"Is it possible!" said Mr. Cook. "Why, I am as glad to see you, mylittle girl, as if I were your own uncle. I didn't know but I shouldhave to go journeying all about the world, like my famous ancestor,Captain Cook, to find you; for my wife has never given up talkingabout you since I have known her."
Mr. Cook was so tall and so big Nelly felt half afraid of him. Hewas as tall as Long Billy, and twice as big: he had a long, thickbeard, of a beautiful brown color, and his eyes were as blue as thesky. Nelly thought he looked like one of the pictures, in apicture-book Rob had, of "Three Giant Kings from the North who cameOver the Sea." But when he smiled you did not feel afraid of him;and his voice was so good and true and kind that everybody trustedhim and liked him as soon as he spoke.
"Was Captain Cook really an ancestor of yours?" asked Nelly,eagerly.
"Oh!" cried Rob, bounding away from Arthur, and looking up withreverence into this tall man's face, "are you a relation of CaptainCook? Have you got any of his things? Did you know him? Did he evertell you about his voyage? We've got the book about them: I knoweverywhere he went."
Mr. Cook lifted Rob up in his arms, and tossed him over hisshoulders, and whirled round with him, and set him down on theground again, before he answered. This was a thing Mr. Cook loved todo to boys of Rob's size. Boys of that age are not used to beingpicked up and tossed like babies; but Mr. Cook was so strong hecould toss a big boy as easily as you or I could a little baby.
"No, sir, I am not a relative of Captain Cook's, so far as I know,nor of any other Cook, except of all good cooks: I am a first cousinand great friend and lover of all good cooks," shouted this jolly,tall man, whose very presence seemed like sunshine. "Ralph, youcook of cooks and for all the Cooks, is our breakfast ready?"
Ralph chuckled with inward laughter as he tried to answer with aquiet propriety. Long as he had lived with Mr. Cook, he had nevergrown accustomed to his droll ways.
Rob and Nelly looked on with amazement. This was a sort of man theyhad never seen.
"Oh, I wish papa was like this," thought Rob: in the next second hewas ashamed and sorry for the thought. But from that moment he had aloving admiration for Mr. Cook, which was about as strong as hislove for his own father.
As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Cook had eaten their breakfast, they walkedup to the house with Nelly. Rob stayed behind with Arthur, entirelyabsorbed in the microscope. Nelly's feet seemed hardly to touch theground: she was so excited in the thought of taking Mrs. Cook to seeher mother. She utterly forgot all the changes which the three yearshad brought to them: she forgot how poor they were, and that hermother was at that moment hard at work churning butter. She forgotevery thing except that she had found her old friend, and was aboutto give her mother a great surprise. She opened the door into thesitting-room, and, crying, "Mamma! mamma! who do you think is here?"she ran on into the kitchen, turning back to Mr. and Mrs. Cook andcrying, "Come out here! Here she is!"
Mrs. March looked up from her churning, much astonished at t
heinterruption, and still more astonished to see two strangersstanding in her kitchen doorway, and evidently on such intimateterms with Nelly. Mrs. March had on a stout tow-cloth apron whichreached from her neck to her ankles; this was splashed all over withcream. On her head she had a white handkerchief, bound tight like aturban. Altogether she looked as unlike the Mrs. March whom Mrs.Cook had seen in the cars as Mrs. Cook looked unlike the Mrs.Williams. But Mrs. Cook's smile was one nobody ever forgot. As soonas she smiled, Mrs. March exclaimed:--
"Why, Mrs. Williams! how glad I am to see you again. Pray excuse mea minute, till I can take myself out of this buttery apron: walkback into the sitting-room."
"No, no!" laughed Mr. Cook, "I know a great deal better than that! Iwas brought up on a farm. You can't leave that butter! Here! give methe apron, and let me churn it: it's twenty-five years since I'vechurned; but I believe I can do it." And, without giving Mrs. Marchtime to object, he fairly took the apron away from her, and tied itaround his own neck, and began to churn furiously.
"Now you two go in and sit down," he said, "and leave this littlegirl and me to attend to this butter. You'll see how soon I'll'bring' it!" And indeed he did. His powerful arms worked as if theywere driven by steam; and in less than a quarter of an hour thebutter was firm and hard, and Nelly and Mr. Cook had become goodfriends. He liked the quiet, grave little girl very much; but, afterall, his heart warmed most to Rob, and the greater part of his talkwith Nelly was about her brother.
In the meantime, Mrs. Cook and Mrs. March were having a full talkabout all that had happened. There was something about Mrs. Cookwhich made people tell her all their affairs. She never askedquestions or pried in any way, but she was brimful of sympathy andkindly intent; and to such persons everybody goes for comfort andadvice. Mrs. March had always remembered her with affectionategratitude for her goodness to Nelly, and she was glad of theopportunity, even three years late, to thank her for that beautifulwax doll.
"It is as good as new now," she said. "Nelly keeps it rolled intissue paper, in the box. She does not play with dolls any more, butit is still her chief treasure."
"Not play with dolls!" exclaimed Mrs. Cook: "why, she is notfifteen."
"I know it," replied Mrs. March, "but our hardworking life here hasmade both the children old for their years: especially Nelly. Shewas naturally a thoughtful, care-taking child. Rob is of a moremirthful, adventurous temperament. He has taken the jolly side ofthe life here; but Nelly has grown almost too sober and wise. She isa blessed child."
"Yes, indeed, she is," replied Mrs. Cook; "and she was so when Ifirst knew her. I never could forget her earnest face. I want you tolet her and Rob too be with us just as much as possible while we arehere. We shall stay a month: perhaps six weeks, if it does not growtoo cold. We find it is much better for Arthur to stay quietly inone place than it is to move about. He gains much more. Travellingtires him dreadfully."
"I shall be more than glad to have the children with you as much aspossible," replied Mrs. March; "but that will not be so much as Icould wish: for we are all working very hard now; and two days eachweek the children go to Rosita, to sell eggs and butter. That is thegreater part of our income this summer."
Mrs. March said this in a cheerful tone, and as if it were nothingworth dwelling upon, and Mrs. Cook did not express any surprise; butin her heart she was much grieved and shocked to find that theMarches were so poor, and as soon as she was alone with her husbandshe told him of it with tears in her eyes.
"Only think, Edward," she said, "of those sweet children going aboutselling eggs and butter in the town."
Mr. Cook was a very rich man; but his father and his grandfatherhad been farmers; and in Mr. Cook's early years he had driven themarket-wagon into town many a time and sold potatoes and corn in themarket. It did not, therefore, seem so dreadful to him as it did tohis wife that Rob and Nelly should carry about eggs and butter tosell in Rosita. Still, he was sorry to hear it, and exclaimed:--
"Do they really? The plucky little toads! That's too bad--for thegirl: it won't hurt the boy any!"
"Oh, Edward!" said Mrs. Cook, "you wouldn't like to have Arthur doit."
"No, I wouldn't like to have him do it," replied Mr. Cook: "mostcertainly I wouldn't like to have him; but that wouldn't prove thatit mightn't be better for him in the end if he had to. But fate hastaken all such questions as that out of our hands, so far as poorArthur is concerned." And Mr. Cook sighed heavily. Arthur'scondition was a terrible grief to his father. All the more becausehe was so well and strong himself, Mr. Cook had a dread of physicalpain or weakness. Many times a day he looked at his helpless son,and said in his inmost heart:--
"Rather than be like that, I would die any death that could beinvented."
It was a mercy that Arthur did not inherit his father's temperament.He was much more like his mother: so long as he could be amused, anddid not suffer severe pain, he did not so much mind having to liestill. When Rob said to him, one day:--
"Oh, Arthur, doesn't it tire you horribly to stay in that chair?"Arthur answered:--
"Why, no: it's the easiest chair you ever sat in. You just try itsome day. I had one before this that did tire me, though: it was ahorrid chair. It wasn't made right; but this is a jolly chair. It'sbetter than the bed."
Rob, who had felt guilty the moment he had asked the question,thinking it was not kind, was much relieved at this answer, andthought to himself:--
"Well, that's lucky. He didn't mind my asking him one bit. I guessit's because he's been sick so long he doesn't remember how it feltto run about."