CHAPTER XIV.
LLOYD MAKES A DISCOVERY.
"IT _was_ Molly's little lost sister, I'm sure of it!" insisted Elisenext morning, stopping in the middle of her dressing to argue the matterwith Lloyd and Allison. "Of course I couldn't see her face, for she hadher apron up over it, crying. But neither can you see the little girl'sface in the picture, Allison Walton, and the rest of her was exactlylike the picture. See?"
She ran across the room for the magazine that had been brought up fromthe library on the night of Thanksgiving, and which still lay open onthe table.
"They have the same thin little arms and ragged clothes and everything.Oh, I am sure it was Dot that I ran after, and now that I know how awfulit is to be lost, I'd do anything to find her. I dreamed about her lastnight, and I can't think about anybody else."
So positive was she, that Lloyd could hardly wait for ten o'clock tocome, the hour that her mother had promised to call for her. They wereto begin their Christmas shopping that morning, for the calendar showedthem that whatever gifts they intended sending Betty and Eugenia mustsoon be started on their way, in order to reach them in time. Lloyd wasso excited over the prospect of finding Dot that she wanted to postponethe shopping, and start at once for the tenement district where Elisehad wandered away from her carriage.
"I know that Betty and Eugenia would rather do without any Christmasgifts," she declared almost tearfully, "than miss this chance of findingher. Betty used to talk about it all the time, and if we don't go thismorning, something may happen that we may never find her."
"But be reasonable, dear," answered Mrs. Sherman. "It would be likehunting for a needle in a hay-stack. You have such a slight clue, Lloyd.That picture is _not_ a picture of Molly's sister. It is only one thatreminded Molly of her, and there are thousands of poor little waifs inthe world that look like that. I will see the Humane Society about her,and the teachers of the free kindergarten who work in that district, andwe will report the case to the police. It would be useless for us to gowandering aimlessly around, up one flight of dirty stairs and downanother."
Lloyd had to be content with that, but all the time she was going aroundamong the shops, trying to choose gifts appropriate to send across thesea, she kept thinking of Molly as she had seen her that rainy day,lying face downward on her cot and sobbing out her misery in the littleattic room of the Cuckoo's Nest.
They went back to Mrs. Walton's for lunch, where Elise was still talkingof her adventure of the night before.
"I wish Dot had some of this good plum-pudding," she remarked. "Shelooked so cold and hungry. Maybe she was crying because she didn't haveanything to eat."
Mrs. Walton shook her head in perplexity. "Everything leads straightback to that subject," she exclaimed. "The child has talked of nothingelse all morning. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Lloyd. Mrs. Moorecalled while you were out this morning, and promised Elise she wouldtake her through all those tenements next week. She is very charitable,and has helped so many poor people in that part of the city that theywill do anything for her. She thinks that there really may be somepossibility of finding the child."
Lloyd's face shone as if she had come into the possession of a fortune.She was sure now that Dot would be found in time to keep Christmas withthem, and she could scarcely wait until she reached home to write toBetty about the search that was to be made.
She went back to her Aunt Jane's that afternoon to wait until traintime, much to the disappointment of Allison and Kitty, who werearranging some tableaux.
"You'll write to me if they find out anything about Dot, won't you?" sheasked Allison at parting.
"Yes, the very next breath," answered Allison. So the Little Colonelwent away quite hopeful, and for days she haunted the post-office.Before school, after school, at recess, sometimes the last thing beforedark, she made a pilgrimage to the post-office, to stand on tiptoe andsee if anything was in their box. But the days went by, and thelong-looked-for letter never came. There were papers and magazines,thick letters from Joyce, and thin foreign-stamped ones from Betty andEugenia, but none that told of a successful search for Dot.
Two weeks before Christmas there came a letter from Allison, invitingher to spend the following Saturday in town. On the opposite page hermother had pencilled a postscript almost as long as the letter itself,saying: "Do come in with Lloyd. Sister Elise usually makes a merryChristmas for the little ones at the Children's Hospital, but this yearshe will be so busy with other things that she has asked us to take herplace. Malcolm and Keith have asked for an unusually big celebration atFairchance this Christmas, and she will have her hands full trying tocarry out all their plans.
"I have promised to take her place here, and we have planned a tinyindividual Christmas tree for each child in the hospital. I am going totake the girls down there Saturday and let them talk to the children,and find out, as far as possible, what gift would make each one happy.Be sure to come in with Lloyd. Even if we have failed in our efforts tofind little Dot, we may have a hand in making twenty other little soulssupremely happy on Christmas Day. Come on the early train, and we willgo to the hospital first, and spend the rest of the day in shopping."
Luckily it was late in the week when the letter arrived, or Lloyd wouldhave had a hard time waiting for Saturday. So impatient was she for theholiday to come that she began to count the hours and then even theminutes.
"Two whole days and nights!" she exclaimed. "That makes forty-eighthours, and there's sixty minutes in an hour, and sixty seconds in aminute. That makes--let me see." It was too big a sum to do in her head,so she ran for pencil and paper and began multiplying carefully, puttingdown the amount in neat little figures.
"One hundred and seventy-two thousand eight hundred seconds," sheannounced, finally. "What a terrible lot. The clock has to tick thatmany times before I can go."
"But remember, part of that time you will be asleep," suggested PapaJack. "Over fifty thousand of these seconds will be ticked off when youknow nothing about it."
That was some comfort, and the Little Colonel, putting on her warmestwinter wrappings, went out to make some of the other seconds go byunnoticed, by rolling up snowballs for a huge snow-man on the lawn.
It had been a dull week in the hospital. Gray skies and falling snow isa dreary outlook for children who can do nothing but lie in their narrowbeds and look wearily out of the windows. This Saturday morning thenurses had given the little invalids their baths and breakfasts, thedoctors had made their rounds, and in each ward were restless littlebodies who longed to be amused.
Those who were well enough to be propped up in bed fingered the gamesand pictures that had entertained them before; but a dozen pairs of eyesin search of some new interest turned expectantly toward the door everytime it opened. Suddenly a stir went through the ward where theconvalescents lay, and the wintry morning seemed to blossom intoJune-time.
Four little girls, each with her arms full of great red roses, withleafy stems so long that it seemed the whole bush must have been cutdown with them, passed down the room, leaving one at each pillow.
"My Aunt Elise sent them," said the smallest child, pausing at the firstwhite bed. "She asked us to bring them 'cause she couldn't come herself.They're American Beauties and they always make me think of my AuntElise."
"She must be a dandy, then," was the response of Micky O'Brady, on whomshe bestowed one, taking it up awkwardly in his left hand. His right onewas still in a sling, and one leg had just been taken out of a plastercast, for he had been run over by a heavy truck, and narrowly escapedbeing made a cripple for life. Elise stopped to question him about hisaccident, and found that despite his crippled leg a pair of skates waswhat he wished for above all things. While she was chattering away tohim like a little magpie, Kitty and Allison went on down the room withtheir roses. It was not the first time they had been there, and theyknew some of the children by name. But it was all new to Lloyd. In thenext room the sight of the white little faces, some of them drawn withpain, almost brought t
he tears to her eyes.
There were only six beds in this ward, and at the last one Lloyd laid arose down very softly, because in that bed the little invalid lay on oneside as if she were asleep. But as the perfume of the great AmericanBeauty reached her, she opened her eyes and smiled weakly. Lloyd was sostartled that she dropped the rest of the roses to the floor and claspedboth hands around the bedpost. For the eyes that smiled up at her, keenand gray with their curly black lashes, might have been Molly's own,they were so like hers. The black hair brushed back from the white facewaved over the left temple exactly as Molly's did. There were the samestraight black eyebrows and the familiar droop of the pretty littlemouth, and it seemed to Lloyd, as she stared at her with a fascinatedgaze, that it was Molly herself who lay there white and wan. Only a muchsmaller Molly, with a sad, hopeless little face, as if the battle withlife had proved too hard, and she was slowly giving it up.
"'OH, _WHAT_ IS YOUR NAME?'"]
The child, still smiling, weakly raised her bony little hand to lift therose from the pillow, and even the gesture with which she laid itagainst her cheek was familiar.
"Oh, _what_ is your name?" cried Lloyd, forgetting that she had beentold not to talk in that room.
"The people I lived with last called me Muggins," said the child,faintly, "but a long time ago it used to be Dot."
As she spoke she turned her head so that both sides of her face werevisible, and Lloyd saw that across the right eyebrow was a thin whitescar.
"Oh, I knew it!" cried Lloyd, under her breath. "I knew it the minute Ilooked at you!" Then to the child's astonishment, without waiting topick up the fallen roses, she ran breathlessly into the hall.
"Mothah! Mrs. Walton!" she cried, breaking into their conversation withone of the nurses. "Come quick, I've found her! It's really, trulyDot! She says that is her name, and she looks exactly like Molly. Oh,do come and see her!"
She wanted to rush back to the child with the news that she knew hersister Molly and that they should soon be together, but the nurse saidit would excite her too much if it were really so. Then she wanted tosend a telegram to Molly and a cable to Betty saying that Dot had beenfound, but nobody except herself was sure that this little Dot wasMolly's sister.
"We must be absolutely sure of that first," said Mrs. Sherman, who sawthe same strong resemblance to Molly that had startled the LittleColonel, but who knew how often such resemblances exist between entirestrangers. "Think how cruel it would be to raise any false hopes ineither one. Think how sure Elise was that the child she followed wasMolly's sister. You both couldn't be right, for this one was brought tothe hospital before Elise was lost."
The nurse could tell very little. The child had been picked up on thestreet so ill that she was delirious, and all their investigating hadproved little beyond the fact that she had been deserted by her drunkenfather. Her illness was evidently caused by lack of proper food andclothing. Nobody knew her by any other name than Muggins.
While they were still discussing the matter in the hall, Allison had abright idea. "Why couldn't you telephone for Ranald to bring his cameraand take a picture of her and send that to Molly. If she says it is Dotthat will settle it."
The nurse thought that would be a sensible thing to do, but they had towait until one of the doctors was consulted. As soon as he gave hispermission, they began to make arrangements. Ranald answered hismother's summons promptly, and it was not long before he was setting uphis tripod in the room where the child lay.
A pleased smile came over the child's face when she discovered what wasto be done. "Put in all the things that have made me so happy while Ihave been in the hospital," she said to the nurse, "so that when I leavehere I can have the picture of them to look at."
So they laid a big wax doll in her arms, that had been her constantcompanion, and around her on the counterpane they spread the games andpictures she had played with before she grew so weak. On her pillow wasthe queen-rose, and close beside the bed they wheeled the little tablethat held a plate of white grapes and oranges. Just as Ranald was readyto take the picture, the matron came in with a plate of ice-cream. "Oh,put that in, too," cried Muggins "Miss Hale sends it every day, and it'sone of the happiest things to remember about the hospital. It is likeheaven, isn't it?" she exclaimed, glancing around at the luxuries shehad never known until she came to the hospital, and that smile was onher face when Ranald took the picture.
"I'll develop it as soon as I get home, and print one for you thisafternoon," he promised. "You shall have one to-morrow."
"Will you print me one, too?" inquired the Little Colonel, anxiously,when they had bidden Muggins good-bye, and were going through the hall."I want one to send to Betty and Eugenia, and one to send to Joyce, andone to keep."
"I'll print a dozen next week if you want them," promised Ranald, "butthe first one must be for that little Dot or Muggins, or whatever youcall her, and the next one for Molly."
It was Mrs. Sherman who wrote the letter that carried the picture toMolly. By the same mail there went a note to Mrs. Appleton, saying thatin case Molly recognised it as her sister, they would send for her tocome and spend Christmas with her in the hospital, for the nurse hadsaid it would probably be the child's last Christmas, and they wantedto do all they could to make it a happy one.
In a few days the answer came. Molly was almost wild with joy, and wouldstart as soon as the promised railroad ticket reached her. Thephotograph of little Dot was scarcely out of her hands, Mrs. Appletonsaid. She propped it up in front of her while she washed the dishes. Itlay in her lap when she was at the table, and at night she slept with itunder her pillow to bring her happy dreams.
The day that Mrs. Appleton's letter came, Allison went up to hermother's room and stood beside her desk waiting for her pen to come tothe end of a page. "Mamma," she said, as Mrs. Walton finally looked up,"I've thought of such a nice plan. Have you time to listen?"
Mrs. Walton smiled up at the thoughtful face of her eldest daughter."You should have been named Pansy, my dear. _Pensee_ is for thought, youknow, and I'm glad to say you are always having thoughts of somesensible way to help other people. I'm very busy, but I am sure yourplan is a good one, so I'll let the letters wait for awhile."
She leaned back in her chair, and Allison, dropping down on the rug ather feet, began eagerly. "Out at the hospital, mamma, there is a littleempty room at the end of a side hall. It is a dear little room with afireplace and a sunny south window. It has never been furnished becausethey haven't enough money. I asked one of the nurses about it, and shesaid they often need it for cases like Dot. It would be so muchpleasanter to have her away from all the noise. And I've been thinkingif it could be fixed up for Dot to spend Christmas in, how much nicer itwould be for her and Molly both. It wouldn't cost very much to furnishit, just enough to get the little white bedroom set and the sheets andtowels and things. Anyhow, it wouldn't be much more than you've oftenspent on my Christmas presents. And I wanted to know if you wouldn't letme do that this year instead of your giving me a Christmas present.Please, mamma, I've set my heart on it. If I got books they'd soon beread, and jewelry or games I'd get tired of after awhile, and things towear, no matter how pretty, would be worn out soon. But this issomething that would last for years. I could think every day that somepoor little soul who has never known anything but to be sick or sad wasenjoying my pretty room."
"That is as beautiful a _pensee_ as ever blossomed in any heart-garden,I am sure," said Mrs. Walton, softly, smoothing the curly head restingagainst her knee, "and mother is glad that her little girl's plans aresuch sweet unselfish ones. We'll go this very afternoon and talk to thematron about it."
Aladdin's lamp is not the only thing that can suddenly bring wonderfulthings to pass. There is a modern magic of telephones and electric cars,and the great Genii of sympathy and good-will are all-powerful when onceunbottled. So a few hours wrought wonderful changes in the empty littleroom, and next morning Allison stood in the centre of it looking aroundher with delighted
eyes.
Everything was as white and fresh as a snowdrop, from the little bed tothe dainty dressing-table beside the window. A soft firelight shone onthe white-tiled hearth of the open fireplace. The morning sun streamedin through the wide south window, where a pot of pink hyacinths swungits rosy bells, and Allison's Japanese canary, Nagasaki, twittered inits gilded cage. She had brought it all the way from Japan.
"Of course they won't want it in the room all the time," she said, "butthere will be days when the children will love to have it brought in alittle while to sing to them."
"If you give up Nagasaki then I'll give my globe of goldfish," saidKitty, anxious to do her part toward making a happy time for little Dot."Afterward, if the child who stays in that room is too sick to enjoyit, it can go into the convalescent ward."
It was into this room that Molly came, bringing her picture of the GoodShepherd. She had carried it in her arms all the way, frequently takingit out of its brown paper wrapping, for down in one corner of the frameshe had fastened the photograph of Dot.
All that morning on the train, the refrain that had gone through herhappy heart as she looked at the picture was, "Oh, she's been happy fora month! She's got grapes and oranges, and a doll, and roses in thepicture, and _ice-cream_! And there's lace on her nightgown, and she is_smiling_."
"Shall we name the room for you, Miss Allison?" asked the nurse, whenthe picture of the Good Shepherd was hung over the mantel, and Dot laylooking up at it with tired eyes, her little hand clasped in Molly's,and a satisfied smile on her face.
"No," whispered Allison, her glance following the gaze of the child'seyes. "Call it _The Fold of the Good Shepherd_. She looks like a poorlittle lost lamb that had just found its way home."
"I wish all the poor little stray lambs might find as warm a shelter,"answered the nurse, in an undertone, "and I hope, my dear, that all yourChristmases will be as happy as the one you are making for her."