The sheets smelled of lavender flowers, and the girl looked a different creature. She was really startlingly beautiful. The heart of her hostess went out to her. Even there in the semidarkness of that room, she felt that she was entertaining an angel unawares. The breathing was so quiet that Martha stooped above the face and listened to make sure it had not stopped entirely, and drawn by a sudden impulse came closer and softly kissed her in the darkness.
The girl did not stir, but the warmth of her face and the softness of her cheek reached into the lonely heart of the woman and almost frightened her with a new kind of joy.
She fled to her own room and knelt for her usual formal prayer, but somehow the cold words that she had used since childhood failed her, and her heart gushed forth new expressions, ending with, “Our Father, bless that dear boy, and this little, lonely girl, and show me how to be different.”
As she lay in the darkness afterward for an hour, staring wide-eyed at the things that had come to pass, she seemed again to feel that there was a Presence in her room and that a radiance glowed above her. Once more she heard the quaint old word, “Inasmuch!”
The feeling of awe remained with her the next morning, and she arose and tiptoed around her room getting ready for the day’s campaign. A strange sense of having become an employee in a new firm, under orders the most holy and sacred, possessed her.
She had in her house a stranger, drifted in from the wide world, in need and alone, and she felt she had been distinctly commanded to attend to her needs as though a voice from heaven had spoken audibly to her soul. And though she had never been a woman of deep religious fervor, nor given to more than formal worship, she had no question of demurring. Indeed, a kind of elation had come upon her and a light shone in her eyes, a smile hovered about her lips.
The half-open door revealed the quiet form on the bed in the guest room, but the hostess would not go in and disturb her now. Let her sleep as long as she would. She had been utterly exhausted. When she had prepared a dainty breakfast it would be time enough to awaken her.
As she went downstairs she was conscious of a longing for those windows in the wide wall that they had been talking about the night before. If there were only a flood of sunshine pouring in, how pleasant it would be for that poor little white child in the guest room to waken to. All sense of hesitation and rebuke with regard to the changes had departed from her. She felt no doubt that it was quite the right thing for her to do. She was only anxious to have the work begin. She remembered what a radiance had overspread the face of the young man when she told him he might count on a job. Where was all her caution and good sense? How was it she no longer felt that she had done a dreadful thing to engage a man to do so important a job, about whom she knew nothing, and whose only recommendation was that a strange boy had brought him to her and she liked his face? Well, and wasn’t that enough after all? What was that old legend she had heard once in a lecture, about a man who was born a King and people didn’t recognize Him? The story gave this rule to follow: “Whom children love, whom animals follow.” And she thought of Ronald and Ernestine. It floated through her mind now as she put the teakettle on. Somehow she felt sure her intuition had not deceived her and that her chosen architect was all right. Besides, he needed the work. So what if he was young and inexperienced? He looked as if he had good sense, and she would always be there to watch. She might not understand carpentering, but she would risk that she could see if anything really went wrong. And, too, she couldn’t help feeling glad that she was going to give that little child a chance to go to the seashore and get well, and his tired young mother, too. They ought to get off at once. Couldn’t she manage somehow to suggest that to the father?
She was still thinking about it when she heard the back door of the next house fly open, and just for company, she set her own door ajar, smiling to herself to think how strange it was that she should actually have reached the place where she liked to hear a boy whistle.
But there was no whistling this morning; instead there were angry, bitter words.
“You oughtta know better than to anger your dad that way when you could see he was in a bad humor. You’re always getting up some fool thing you wanta do, spending money when we got all we can do to keep the clothes on your back. What’s a picnic when you ain’t got shoes good enough to wear to school? You’d oughtta be thankful you don’t haveta quit school and go to work the way Johnny Mason has. The idea of your wanting to go traipsing off to the seashore and spending a whole dollar and a half in carfare. I don’t see what you’re thinking of!”
“I don’t care! I think it’s mean!” That was Ronald’s voice now. “I never can go anywhere. Every other boy in this block is going, and I don’t see why I can’t go, too. I didn’t ask Dad to give me a dollar and a half. I just asked him to lend it to me. I got a job for the winter tending furnaces, and I could pay it back. Besides, it don’t cost a dollar and a half, it only costs a dollar for carfare. I want the half dollar to spend. When I go off with the fellows I gotta have something to spend. There’s movies and all sorts of amusements, and I wantta hire a suit and go in bathing. If Dad was like other men, he’d take you and me and Teena and go, too. Most every man on this street is going.”
“Well, it’ll be a long time before your dad ever does a fool thing like that with his money. And I advise you to keep your mouth shut about your picnics if you don’t want him to give you a good whipping. He wants you to quit school and get a job—” There was a plaintive, wistful sound to the woman’s voice, in spite of her harsh words.
But a man’s voice calling angrily from within drew the woman away, and there was only left the low mutterings of the boy as he set about his morning’s work.
So that was what the boy had been wanting to do! Go on a community picnic to the shore! A harmless enough thing, of course, and little enough money to spend on an outing for a good boy who seemed to be well intentioned and kindly. What an ugly father and an unnatural mother to refuse him! But then, perhaps the mother was harassed with cares and didn’t know how to get along.
And to think the boy wanted money so badly as that and yet had refused her proffered quarter! What a fine sense of honor. Well, he was surely a boy to be proud of! She felt a thrill of pride and pleasure in his friendship. And then she fell to planning. How could she help that boy get to that picnic? Wasn’t there any way? Perhaps she ought not to try, but somehow it hurt her dreadfully to have him disappointed. If she had only known sooner, perhaps she could have found a way to help him. But this was Saturday, and Monday would be the day of the picnic. A half-formed plan came flickering to her mind, how she might concoct some work for him to do for her. But there was hardly time now for him to earn enough in anything she could ask him to do.
She was still pondering it as she took the tray upstairs. A delicate piece of toast on which reposed a beautifully poached egg, a cup of coffee, a glass of milk, and a bunch of grapes with the bloom on them. It looked like Martha was glad as she set it down softly on the little mahogany table by the bed.
The little girl on the bed had not stirred, did not stir now. Indeed she lay so white and still Martha could not tell if she was breathing. The little lace ruffles and cheerful pink ribbons over her chest did not seem to rise or fall, nor flutter with a palpitating heart. Could it be that the child had slipped away out of an unfriendly world into the light and warmth of the Father’s house of many mansions?
Martha had had all kinds of experiences with living human beings, but very little with the dead. Since her parents had died, she had lived so much in the world of business that the possibility of death seemed remote and unreal. With awe she knelt and laid an unaccustomed hand, trembling, on the girl’s chest, put her ear down and listened, then threw up the window shade to get more light, but her own pulses bounded so frantically that she was unable to tell whether the girl was breathing or not. She even held a mirror before her lips but was so excited she couldn’t be sure whether it was dimmed with vapor. She re
membered suddenly that if the girl died here in her home, they had no means of knowing who she was or where she came from.
As a last resort she laid her lips upon the lips and forehead of the sleeping girl, and they seemed to strike a chill through her very soul.
Thoroughly frightened now, she fled downstairs, out the kitchen door to the fence and called, “Ronald! Ronald! Come quick!”
The boy threw down his ax hastily, and his dark head appeared over the fence.
“What’s wrong?” he asked capably.
“Can you get a doctor quick? I’m afraid that girl is dying!” said Martha.
“Sure, I’ll get him in three jerks of a lamb’s tail,” said the boy. “He’s the doctor of that architect’s little kid. Doc Blackwell. He’s swell.” And Ronald was off like a flash.
Chapter 10
Martha turned helplessly back to her kitchen. The kettle was singing cheerily. She stopped to put on the large canning kettle full of water. It might be needed. Then she hurried back upstairs. What else could she do? Smelling salts? Yes, she had some. She wet a handkerchief and waved it in front of the girl’s face. She put a few drops in water and tried to get a little down between those closed lips, but most of it ran down her white chin and was lost on the pillow. She tried camphor on a handkerchief, but there was no change in the white face. A terrible, desperate fear was taking possession of her. Suppose Ronald couldn’t find the doctor. Would he get another one?
And then she heard the doorbell ring, and she hurried down to meet Ronald and the quiet-eyed, young doctor.
The boy and Martha stood very still while the doctor made his examination, but at last it was over.
“I think there is still life here,” said the doctor, turning to Martha, “but we shall have to work fast. May I have a glass of water and a spoon? Hot water, have you? Boy, you go back to my office and get the little black case on my desk. I need something from it. Miss Spicer, have you a hot water bottle?”
Gravely, quietly, swiftly they obeyed orders. Ronald was back from the office almost in no time and busied himself in bringing hot water and running errands. And yet, with their best efforts, it was a full half hour before they were rewarded by hearing a soft sigh from the sleeper, and it was a full hour before she opened her eyes and looked at them with a puzzled expression, as if she had come back from another world, then dropped the lids slowly shut again and went on sleeping. But her breath was coming now, regularly and normally. The doctor whispered a few directions about feeding her. It was some time later that he turned away from her again and said with a sigh of satisfaction, “I think she will be all right now, but that was a close call. I thought for a few minutes there that it was no use, she was too far gone, but she had youth in her favor. She must have been running on the edge of things for a long time, and can’t have been eating very much.”
“Yes,” said Martha, “I’m afraid so. She didn’t tell me much last night, but I think she is a lady, suddenly thrown of her own resources. She lost her job and went walking all over after another without taking time or much money from her small store to eat.”
Martha was surprised to find her own voice was trembling, and she felt all unnerved. The sudden relief from suspense had left her feeling weak all at once.
“Well, she’s evidently been overtaxing her strength tremendously,” said the doctor. “Ronald tells me he saw her nearly fall in the street. It’s been loss of sleep and lack of nutrition.”
“Yes,” said Martha, “she told me last night that there were always railroad stations one could sit in all night and sleep.”
“Yes, I guess that has been the tale,” said the doctor sorrowfully. “She almost finished herself. But she’s young. I think she’ll pull through now. It was good of you to look after her. But let me know if she seems to be sinking again. She needs good food and lots of sleep. Don’t hesitate to call me at any time, day or night. I’m just around the corner, you know. Ronald will bring me word. Of course you understand I make no charge for a case like this.”
“Oh!” said Martha, strange tears springing into her eyes, and feeling as if he had done her a personal favor. “Oh, that is good of you. But I’m looking after her, you know. I was the one who sent for you.”
“Yes? But this is part of my job, you see. Just call me whenever you need me, and in any case I’ll look in again after lunch. I want to make sure that pulse keeps steady.”
“I’ll be back after a bit,” said Ronald, following the doctor back down the stairs. There was a comfortable assurance in his voice, and Martha turned back to the room to find the forgotten Ernestine lunching calmly off the stranger’s breakfast. Ernestine thought there had been enough fuss made over that tiresome girl who lay in bed at this late hour of the morning, and if nobody wanted that toast and egg and glass of milk, she did. It was time she took things into her own paws.
The rest of the day Ernestine sat apart with an offended air. Things hadn’t gone her way at all, and she was faint and deeply jealous. She had been summarily swept off the stranger’s bed and sent downstairs, and even Ronald hadn’t had time to pat her. She tucked up her fur collar, blinked dismally, and forgot to wind up her music box. Life had taken on a strange aloofness, and everything seemed to center in that dark guest room upstairs.
When Ronald came back Martha asked him to go to the grocery store for her, and then they had a little talk about the architect and his family.
“He’s tickled to death to think he’s got the job,” said the boy. “He’s been wanting to send his wife and the kid to the shore. Doc said they oughtta go right off. Doc wanted to lend him the money, but he couldn’t see that. But Doc’s a good sport. So now Bill Roberts thinks if you are pleased with his plans, he can begin work right off and maybe they can go in three or four weeks.”
“But they ought not to wait so long,” said Martha. “This is just lovely weather and the child ought to be out in it. Why don’t they go at once? I could let him have a little money in advance.”
“Gee! Could ya? Maybe he’d take it that way.”
“Have they any idea where they want to go and how much it will cost?” Martha’s business training came to the front at once.
“Well, he was asking me about a place where they are going to have a street picnic next Monday,” said Ronald meditatively. “He said he heard there were good places to board cheap down there. He thought maybe I was going down Monday with the rest and maybe I’d look him up a place. But—I ain’t,” the boy added, a sullen cloud coming over the brightness of his face.
“Oh, why aren’t you going?” asked Martha innocently.
“Couldn’t work it this time,” said Ronald evasively.
“You would like to go?”
“You bet I would, but Dad don’t see it that way. Costs too much.”
“That’s too bad. I’m sorry,” said Martha.
“Aw, I don’t mind,” said Ronald, looking down indifferently. “Well, I gotta beat it! I’ll be back again after a while. So long!” And he was gone before she could say another word.
When he came back the next time she was ready for him.
“Ronald, I’ve been thinking. I can’t bear the idea of that baby waiting till I get the house fixed over before he goes to the seashore. Besides, if this girl is going to be sick for a while, that will delay the work, too. I’ve decided to suggest that he go next week, take his family, and stay a week or ten days himself with them. They’ll need him if they are to get the kind of rest they ought to have. I can advance him some money on the job, you know, and he can be working out the plans while he is a way. He’ll do better work if his mind is set at rest about his child, and I shall be better satisfied in every way. After they are comfortably settled down there he can run back every other day and attend to anything up here that needs him, or if the girl gets well enough he can start his men to work on the house and keep his wife and child down at the shore a little longer. Do you think that would please him?”
“Oh boy! I shoul
d think it oughtta! That’d be great!”
His eyes were shining for the woman who could work out and propose such a noble scheme for the good of humanity. She was the first one of her kind he had met. And indeed, she was a surprise to herself as the joy of her unselfish thought welled up in her heart and flooded her soul. She hadn’t known that the giving of a little kindness would be like this, bringing its own reward in joy even before the act was accomplished. Why hadn’t she done things like this before? She had often had it in her power but had always been obsessed by the idea that the world owed her all she could get out of it and everyone less fortunate than herself was trying to cheat her out of her rights. What had changed her?
“Then, how about this?” she asked. “I’d like to send you on ahead to find a good boarding place at a reasonable rate for them. He probably couldn’t be persuaded to go unless everything was all mapped out for him. I should think this time of year one could get a boarding place for a very low price. Would you be able to go down to the shore for a day and look around and see what could be done? How about that place you were mentioning this morning? You said he asked about it. I suppose that would please him as well as any place, and you have heard it is nice, you say. Perhaps you would find it easier to look up places. Do you think your father would object to your going? I would pay your fare, of course, and pay you for your day’s work. And of course it wouldn’t take all day to find a place, and you would get a little fun by the way.”
The boy’s face was all sparkles of delight. His eyes grew larger and larger. And she was offering him money for a day like that!