DR. HUGH TAKES COMMAND
Miss Wright appeared at dinner in rustling black silk, and kissed
Dr. Hugh affectionately. In her plump arms she carried three
packages.
"I brought each of the girls a box of French chocolates," she
explained, smiling. "They're simply delicious and there is just one
shop in town which imports them."
Rosemary dimpled as she untied her package, Shirley shrieked with
glee and even Sarah's "thank you, Aunt Trudy" had an unusual depth
of warmth in it. Two-pound boxes of chocolates did not appear at
dinner every day.
Dr. Hugh put down his carving knife as Shirley lifted the lid from
her beribboned box.
"I think I'll have to take charge of these boxes," he said quietly.
"Aunt Trudy is very generous to remember you so bountifully, but I
can not let you make yourselves sick. I'll keep them carefully for
you in the office and you may have a safe number every day I
promise you."
"Oh, Hugh!" Rosemary's voice was reproachful.
"I won't be sick," said Shirley with cheerful confidence.
Sarah did not speak, but she thrust her box under the edge of the
tablecloth.
"It's perfectly pure candy, Hugh, and won't hurt them," Miss Wright
assured him briskly.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I believe that the purest and most expensive
candy taken in sufficient amount, will upset the digestion of an
ostrich," said Doctor Hugh firmly. "Put the boxes on the serving
table till after dinner, Rosemary."
"And I hope you'll keep 'em under lock and key," observed Winnie as
she passed the creamed potatoes. "Sarah will be eating chocolates
for breakfast if there's none to interfere with her."
Winnie considered herself a member of the family, as indeed she was,
and she frequently took part in the table conversation except when
there were strange guests present.
Rosemary gathered up the boxes and put them on the side table and
dinner proceeded pleasantly enough. Aunt Trudy was a social soul and
seldom at a loss for something to say. She sat in the absent
mother's place and beamed upon the little circle, Dr. Hugh across
from her, Rosemary at his right, Shirley next to her and on the
other side of the round table, Sarah the silent. Sarah was certainly
a child of few words and she was never troubled by any idea that
something might be expected from her in the way of a contribution to
the general talk. To-night she sat stolidly, her dark eyes roving
now and then to the candy boxes which were behind Rosemary.
"So you're going to practice right here in Eastshore, Hugh?" Miss
Wright was saying as Winnie brought in the salad, "your mother wrote
me, before she was ill, that you expected to take Doctor Jordan's
office; has he retired?"
"No, not retired exactly," answered Hugh, "but he is planning to
take a long and much-needed vacation. He left for Maine this
afternoon. We both thought it better for many reasons to make no
change in the office--I'll take his just as he left it. Of course
I'll have some kind of a place here, too, but not many patients will
call here."
Sarah created a diversion by pushing back her plate and slipping
down from her chair.
"Where are you going, dear?" her aunt asked in surprise. "Don't you
want any dessert?"
"No, it's cornstarch pudding," said Sarah calmly.
Miss Wright apparently accepted the explanation, but Doctor Hugh
spoke sharply.
"Sarah, come back here--dinner isn't over yet."
Sarah stopped and faced him defiantly.
"I don't want any pudding," she declared, scowling. "Winnie knows I
don't like it and she always makes it."
"Come back and sit down and wait until you are excused--" Doctor
Hugh's level gaze seemed to draw the rebellious Sarah back to her
chair. "If you don't care for the pudding you needn't eat it, but
don't criticise anything that is placed before you."
His staccato tones seemed to have a tonic effect on Sarah, for she
ate the pudding when it came, without further discussion. But the
moment her aunt rose from the table, she made a bee-line for the
candy boxes.
"It's mine, Aunt Trudy gave it to me," she insisted when her brother
interfered.
"Two apiece, of such rich candy, is enough for any one," he
declared. "And one for Shirley--take the kind you want, sweetheart,
and then I'll show you where I am going to keep them for you."
"I must say I think you're too fussy, Hugh," commented Aunt Trudy,
as Shirley made a lingering selection and Rosemary passed her box to
her aunt and Winnie and then chose two of the enormous candies for
herself. "All children are fond of candy and I read only the other
day that a craving for sweets is the mark of a healthy appetite."
Doctor Hugh made no direct reply.
"Sarah, have you eaten your candy?" he asked pleasantly.
"If I can't have my own box," said Sarah with emphasis, "I won't eat
any."
"I'll put them away for you, then," declared her brother equably.
"Come and see where they'll be--in the glass cabinet in the office.
You may have two apiece after dinner till they are gone. They'll
last twice as long that way, Sarah," he added, smiling at her as he
turned the key in the cabinet and replaced his key ring in his
pocket.
The telephone rang and Winnie answered it. The doctor was wanted and
it was eight o'clock before he returned. Aunt Trudy was reading
under the living-room lamp--for the nights were still a little too
cool to be comfortable on the porch--Rosemary knitting, and Shirley
and Sarah playing dominoes on the floor.
"What time does Shirley go to bed?" the doctor asked, standing in
the doorway.
Rosemary looked up, a little troubled.
"Why she always went to bed at half-past seven when Mother was
well," she answered, "but since she was sick, Shirley got in the
habit of staying up till Sarah goes and sometimes Sarah won't go
till I do."
"And what time do you go?" inquired her brother.
Rosemary blushed and began to knit faster.
"I'm supposed to go at nine," she admitted, "but sometimes it
is--later. Honestly, Hugh, I don't see why I should go to bed at
nine o'clock like a little girl; I'm twelve, you know."
"Half-past eight would be better," said her brother, coming over to
sit on the arm of her chair, "but if Mother didn't object, we'll
still say nine. You are a little girl, dear, in spite of your great
age, you see. What about Sarah?"
"You ask more questions than any one I ever knew," cried the
exasperated Sarah with bitter frankness. "I wanted to read my rabbit
book, but Shirley teased and I played dominoes to please her. And
now I suppose you'll be saying I ought to go to bed!"
"Rosemary?" said Doctor Hugh.
"Sarah is supposed to go to bed at eight o'clock," announced
Rosemary reluctantly. "She used to argue with Mother nearly every
night. No one ever wants to go to bed early, Hugh, and lots of the
girls stay up till ten."
"Then I'm sorry for lots of girls," rejoined the doctor. "Shirley is
going to be my good girl and go to bed every night at half-past
seven, aren't you, dear? Sarah at eight and Rosemary at nine--and
that's all settled. Put up the dominoes, children, and run along for
it's twenty minutes past eight this minute."
"I don't want to go to bed," wailed Shirley.
"I'll go up with you, darling," promised Rosemary, putting down her
knitting. "I'll tell you a story about the little brown bear."
"Don't want a story," said Shirley with finality.
Aunt Trudy put down her book and surveyed her youngest niece
sympathetically.
"What's the matter with my sweetheart?" she asked, her voice tender.
"Is she afraid of the big dark?"
The doctor made an impatient exclamation.
"That's nonsense, Aunt Trudy," he said curtly. "No child of my
mother has ever been frightened of the dark; we were not brought up
that way. Every one of us has been trained to go up to bed alone at
the right time, as a matter of course. Sarah, put away those
dominoes and go upstairs to bed with Shirley."
Sarah tumbled the game into the box and stalked from the room
without a word to any one. Shirley simply threw herself flat on
the floor and cried with anger. She was sleepy and tired and she
resented this summary curtailment of her privileges. For the last
two weeks she had been going to bed when Rosemary did and she liked
the plan.
"I hope you will excuse us, Aunt Trudy," said the harassed Doctor
Hugh, scooping his small sister up from the floor and carrying her
toward the door. "We're in sad need of a little discipline, I'm
afraid."
"And you're not going to enforce it," he said grimly to himself as
he marched upstairs with the screaming Shirley. "I seem to have my
work cut out for me--I wonder how about Rosemary?"
When he came downstairs again, having seen both Shirley and Sarah
quiet and asleep, he found his sister and aunt deep in the problem
of "narrowing off."
"I just waited to say good-night to you, Hugh," said Aunt Trudy
brightly. "I'm tired from the trip and I want to start the day
well to-morrow."
She kissed him and rustled out of the room, and Rosemary folded up
her work as the deep chime of the hall clock sounded nine.
"Shirley was tired, Hugh," she said, a little timidly. "She hardly
ever acts that way. And Sarah doesn't mean to be obstinate, but she
just can't help it."
"Well, I'm glad you think to-night isn't an average performance,"
declared her brother humorously. "You're a sweet older sister,
Rosemary. The girls couldn't do better than to pattern after you."
"Oh, Hugh! You are nice--" Rosemary's voice rose in a crescendo of
pure pleasure. "But I'm not a good example--you won't say that when
you know me. I get as mad, as mad--as--Shirley."
"The more shame to you," said the doctor unbelievingly, kissing her
vivid little face. "Go to bed, child, and don't talk to me about
losing your temper."
At eleven o'clock the light was still burning in the office and
Winnie knocked lightly on the door.
"I brought you a glass of milk and a sandwich, Hughie," she said,
using the old pet name she had given him when a little lad.
"Well that's mighty thoughtful of you, Winnie dear," he said,
smiling at her. "I've been doing a little thinking this evening
and that's hungry work."
Winnie regarded him, wisdom and pride in her eyes.
"I'm thinking that healthy folks is more of a problem than sick
ones," she observed sagely. "But you're enough like your mother, to
be able to manage all right, never fear. You've her understanding
and the endurance and will of your father, Hughie, and you'll be
needing it all, but you'll work it out. Shirley is spoiled and we're
all to blame--it wasn't all done in these two weeks, either; your
mother gave in a little at a time for she was tired and her illness
has been long coming. 'Tis nothing to set right a little wrong when
the heart is pure gold like Shirley's. And you'll soon set Sarah in
her place--she needs to be set frequent-like, though if you find
the way to her liking, she'll be fond enough of you in time. It's
Rosemary I'd speak to you about at the risk of seeming to meddle."
The doctor stirred a little, but his face encouraged Winnie to
go on.
"A rose in the bud--that's Rosemary," said Winnie who scorned to
read poetry and often employed poetical fancies in her rather quaint
phrasing. "A rose in the bud and a flower of a girl. A temper that
blazes, a quick pride that bleeds at a word and a passion for loving
that sometimes frightens me. The sick and the helpless and the
young--Rosemary would mother 'em all. And she's hurt so easy, and
she dashes herself against the stone wall so blindly--you'll be
careful and patient, won't you, Hughie? For she has the Willis will,
has Rosemary and times there is no holding her."
Doctor Hugh smiled into the anxious eyes, dim with the loving
anxiety of many years.
"I'll be careful, Winnie," he promised. "And you'll help me. Thank
you for telling me--what you have."