A TELEGRAM
THE minute Mary Frances saw her mother she knew that something was
wrong, for she looked so white and worried. In her hand was a yellow
envelope.
“A telegram!” exclaimed Mary Frances. “Mother dear, is—is it—about
father?”
“Oh, Mary Frances,” said her mother. “I am so thankful to see you and
Aunt Maria! I was just looking for Billy to send word for you to come.”
“Do sit down, child,” said Aunt Maria, “and tell us all about it. Mary
Frances, bring your mother a glass of water, and here—here is my bottle
of smelling salts.”
[Illustration: So white and worried]
[Illustration: “A telegram!”]
Mary Frances flew to bring the water.
Then Aunt Maria read the telegram.
[Illustration: Aunt Maria read it.]
“Your father has been hurt in a railroad accident, my dear,” she said.
“Your mother and I must start to him immediately. I will go pack my
bag. You can help your mother get ready. I shall be back in a very
short time. Billy will carry our bags to the train. Your mother is
feeling better, or I would not leave you. Good-bye.”
And without any more ado the old lady was gone.
Mary Frances put her arms around her mother’s neck.
“Dear little girl,” said her mother. “You will be brave and womanly, I
know.”
[Illustration: “Dear little girl”]
“Yes, mother, I will!” said Mary Frances. “I will help you in every way
I can. That is the best way of helping father. Come on upstairs, dear,
and let me help you get ready to go to him. Do you feel able to go?”
“It is the very thing I want to do most of all. I am glad that Aunt
Maria is going with me, though. I know I shall find her a wonderful
help.”
Mary Frances packed her mother’s suitcase, and fastened her dress, and
buttoned her shoes, and put her hat and veil on. “Just as if I were
your little girl,” said her mother. “What a darling comfort you are, my
dear!”
Billy and Mary Frances went to the station with their mother and aunt.
Billy carried their luggage and bought their tickets. “No grown man
could have done better,” said his mother; and even Aunt Maria praised
him.
[Illustration: Billy.]
“Now, children,” said their mother, giving them their last directions,
“Katie will be home about ten o’clock. You had better wait up for her.
Poor, faithful soul, she will be as grieved as any of us about the sad
news.”
[Illustration: “Now, children.”]
“But it isn’t such sad news as it might be, mother,” said Billy.
“Father will soon be well, we hope.”
“With the kind of nursing which I—I mean we—will give him,” said Aunt
Maria, “I expect he will be about quite soon.”
That speech cheered everybody, and the children felt so hopeful that
they were nearly happy as the train pulled out of the station.
The house seemed pretty empty and lonesome when they went in.
“Let’s play checkers,” said Billy; and they forgot a little of their
troubles in the game.
It was not long before they heard footsteps on the porch. Then the bell
rang.
“Oh, Billy, aren’t you afraid to go to the door?” whispered Mary
Frances.
“Afraid!” exclaimed Billy. “What’s there to be scared of? You know it’s
Katie, most likely.”
But Mary Frances noticed that he kept the toe of his shoe against the
door, and opened it only a little way.
“Is it you, Katie?” he asked.
“It sure is,” answered Katie. “That is, it’s meself if I know meself.”
[Illustration: “It sure is.”]
“Oh, come in, come on in, Katie,” cried Mary Frances; and with tears
running down her cheeks, she told Katie the whole story.
[Illustration: “Come in Katie.”]
“Poor little girl!” said Katie, holding her in her arms. “Don’t you
worry. We’ll probably hear good news from your mother in the morning.
Come now, let’s all go to bed.”
[Illustration: Another telegram]
Katie was right. The morning brought another telegram. It said:
_Father is not dangerously hurt. Will write about
everything._
_Mother._
“Oh, Katie! Oh, Billy!” cried Mary Frances. “I am the thankfulest of
all thankful children in the world, I guess. I feel happy enough to
kiss a crow!”
“Well, I’m thankful enough to play a game of ball,” said Billy,
starting off.
“And I’m thankful enough—to clean house,” said Katie.
Mary Frances offered to help her, but Katie said, “Oh, you just keep to
your own knitting, little girl. If I need you I’ll call upon you, thank
you.”
“The very thing!” thought Mary Frances and went upstairs.
[Illustration: “The very thing.”]
[Illustration: “You work pretty well.”]