CHAPTER XVII.
SAD NEWS.
The next morning Winnie wakened early and lay for some time thinkingover the pleasure of the evening before and the events of the past sixmonths. It seemed to her as if a long time had elapsed since the eveningon which she began to look upon life as something of a battle-field.She felt older, and yet light-hearted, as the gentle air of late May,stealing in through the open window, lightly stirred the thin curtainsand brushed her face "like the breeze from an angel's wing," shethought.
"How happy we all have been!" she said aloud. "And Ernestine--I wish shehad been with us last night--is the happiest of all, because she is thebest."
Then she dozed off again, and did not awake until she heard little Ralphcalling at her door: "Hurry up, 'Innie! B'eakast is 'most weady!"
She sprang out of bed in haste then, and was in the dining-room in timeto take her seat with the rest.
"'He maketh the storm a calm, and the waves thereof are still,'" shequoted when it came her turn to give her selection. She had chosen thisone for its gentle beauty.
How pleasant it all was! How full of life and joy everything seemed,even to the carnations in the center of the table, with their spicyodor!
She performed her Saturday morning duties cheerfully, and after lunchasked permission to take her books and go to Ernestine's to look overthe lessons for Monday, for the end of the year--their last year in theIntermediate--was rapidly approaching, and, their course being almostcompleted, they would soon begin the heavy review in preparation for thehigh-school examination.
Permission was readily granted, and Winnifred started off with a lightheart. When she reached Ernestine's home, a gentleman came down thesteps and passed out of the door just as she was about to enter thehall, so, somewhat surprised, she went up the stairs more slowly thanusual and knocked softly. It was opened by a strange lady, who, inanswer to Winnifred's inquiry for Ernestine, said: "Ernestine is withher mother, who is so ill that the doctor says she must either have atrained nurse or go to the hospital."
"Oh, I must go right home and tell mamma!" said Winnie, and she wentaway without another word.
When she reached home, she found her mother in the sitting-room doingthe week's mending. On hearing her daughter's sad news she hurriedlychanged her dress and set out at once for Mrs. Alroy's.
She was gone an hour--an age, it seemed to Winnifred, unsuccessfullystruggling to keep her mind on her lessons. When Mrs. Burton returned,her face was very grave, and she drew Winnie toward her with a warmembrace as she said:
"Mrs. Alroy has decided to have a nurse; she says she has saved a littlemoney for just such an emergency and prefers to be at home where she canhave Ernestine with her. She asked me to send for Mr. Allen."
"Fannie's father?" said Winnifred, surprised.
"Yes, and I want you to go there now and leave a note for him." Andseating herself at her desk, Mrs. Burton wrote a short note while Winniewas getting on her hat.
Winnie felt very sober--and, it must be confessed, also somewhatimportant--as she hurried away to deliver the note. She found Mr. Allenat home, and, having sent up the note by the servant who answered thebell, she asked for Fannie, for she longed to talk the matter over withone of her mates. But Fannie, from her room at the head of the stairs,had heard Winnifred's voice, and now came running down to meet her.
"What is it, Win?" she said.
"Oh, Fannie," was the reply, "I'm afraid something awful is going tohappen at Ernestine's house! Her mother is very, very sick. I went therethis morning just as the doctor was coming away, and he said she musteither go to the hospital or have a trained nurse. Mamma went over rightaway, and now Mrs. Alroy has sent for your father."
"For papa! Isn't that strange? Come up to my room, Winnie, and stayawhile, can't you?"
"I don't know," said Winnie, hesitatingly. "Mamma didn't say for me tohurry--"
"Well, come on then," said Fannie, leading the way up the softlycarpeted stairs.
Winnie followed with scarcely a glance around. Although Fannie's fatherwas much wealthier than her own, and his house finer in every way, herheart was too full for much interest in fine ornamentation; and besides,child though she was, she instinctively felt that culture and truerefinement are at home anywhere.
But it was the first time she had ever been in Fannie's own room, andthis she found interesting in spite of the emotions which had troubledher heart during the day. It certainly was a charming nook, with itspink-curtained bed half hidden behind a large four-fold screen with theSeasons painted in oil upon its panels; the pretty white dressing-table,draped to match the bed, and filled with the dainty accessories ofa girl's toilet; a low, well-filled book case and desk combined; thepretty matting and rugs; and the many pictures and other ornaments hereand there.
The girls sat down on a little willow seat, large enough for two, andWinnie had to begin all over again and tell what she knew about Mrs.Alroy's illness. In the meantime they heard Mr. Allen descend the stairsand go out of the street door before Fannie had time to call to him.
"I wonder if papa has gone to Mrs. Alroy's now," said she. "Whatever canshe want of him? Perhaps she is going to have him make her will."
"But why should she do that?" said Winnie. "She can't have much to leaveto anybody; and, if she had, Ernestine would be the only one to get it,wouldn't she? But what would Ernestine do if her mother should die? Whowould take care of her? You know she has always said she would teachwhen she had finished school, and it will be years before she does that.Do you know, if the worst should happen, I'd love to have her stay withus, and I almost believe mamma would be willing."
"I think that would be a good deal for your family to do," was theanswer, "but maybe papa would help."
"I don't believe Ernestine would be helped by anyone unless she didsomething in return. But how long I am staying! I must go right away."
"Oh, stay just a minute longer," said Fannie. "I want to show you myhanging garden;" and she threw up the long window and stepped out toa little balcony, almost filled with flowers in pots and boxes, andbaskets full of vines drooping over all.
"Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Winnie.
"Yes, isn't it? I care more for this than anything else I have," Fanniereplied, breaking off a bunch of heliotrope and pinning it to herfriend's dress.
"Oh, thank you!" said Winnie. "But now I must go."
"Yes, I suppose you must," said Fannie, reluctantly. "I'll put on my hatand go a ways with you."
They went down the stairs and out into the street together, talkingalternately--as people do under such circumstances--of trivial thingsand of that which filled their hearts.
When Winnifred reached home, she found her mother seated at the openwindow of the sitting-room, darning a pair of stockings--a homely enoughoccupation, but to Winnie's eyes her mother had never looked so dear orso beautiful, and she went and put her arms about her neck. Her motherreturned the embrace, holding her close for a moment, and then she saidgently:
"Have you your lessons for Monday, dear?"
"Oh, mamma," said Winnie, "it does not seem to me as if I can ever studyagain!"
"Is there any nearer duty, Winnie?"
"I don't know--I suppose not. But, mamma, I can't put my mind on mylessons, when Ernestine's mother is so sick."
"Can you help Ernestine any by neglecting your own duties, dear? Youdo not recognize Giant Despair when he comes in the guise of love andsympathy for your friends, but he it is who comes at these times. Youknow in Whose hands are the issues of life and death, of health andsickness. You cannot help Ernestine's future by worrying over herpresent; but you may mar a portion of your own by neglecting yourpresent."
Winnie could not help knowing that her mother was right. She took outher books, and was soon so hard at work that her disturbed emotionswere quieted, and by supper time, though still full of sympathy for herfriend, she was quite herself again, and ready to play the accompanimentto the new piece her brother was learning. And when she went
to bed,it was to sleep peacefully, rather than to lie awake fighting unseenterrors, as Mrs. Burton well knew would have been the case with herhigh-strung child had she been allowed to brood over the events of theday.