"SMILES"
"'Not by birth?'" echoed Donald, in surprise. "But I thought that she
was your granddaughter?"
"An' so she be--or perhaps my darter," hastily answered Jerry, realizing
his error too late. "I reckon I shouldn't hev told ye," he added in
distress.
"Don't let any such idea worry you, Mr. Webb. Where she came from is
nothing to me, and, indeed, after to-morrow I shall probably never see
her again. I've got to admit, though, that you have aroused my
curiosity, and I'd like to hear the story that's behind her presence
here, if you are willing to tell it."
The giant hesitated, then said slowly, "Wall, I kaint think of no reason
why yo' shouldn't hyar hit. Hit happened this erway.
"Twar one mornin', thirteen summers ergone, an' I war ergunnin' down in
ther woods er piece, not fur from ther Swift River. I rekerlect hit war
er purty mornin', with ther dew still er-clingin' ter ther grass, an'
sparklin'--like jewels, an' ther wood birds war singin' like they war
special happy. I clumb erround er big rock, an' all of er sudden I
seen--I seen er leetle mite of er gal, standin, thar, jest es still es
still. She warn't more'n three year old, I jedged, an' she suttinly
come from ther city, fer her leetle dress warn't like none I'd ever
seen--hit hed sorter loose panterloons ter hit, an', although her legs
war bare--an' all scratched an' bleedin'--thar war tiny socks an' shoes
on 'em. Thar war tears in her big blue eyes an' on her purty cheeks, but
she warn't cryin' none, then. No, sir; she war jest erstandin' an'
erlookin' up ter whar a robin war singin' in an oak tree, an' her leetle
mouth war open fer all ther world like a rosebud. Wall, es I stood thar,
erwatchin' like I'd seen er fairy, she smiles--yo' know thet smile of
her'n, like a rainbow breakin' fer er minute through the rain, an' then
fadin' erway slow?
"I calls ter her sorter soft-like, an' dang me ef she didn't come
walkin' right up ter me, not a mite erfeered. She made a funny leetle
bow, held out her chubby hand an' says, 'How do ye do, big man. Hev ye
seen my pappa an' mamma?'
"I tuck her on my knee, an' leetle by leetle--fer she couldn't talk
much--she told me thet they come from a great, big city whar war
'lectric and steam cyars an' policemen, fer ter play in the woods, an'
thet her pappa an' mamma hed gone out on the water in a boat ter ketch a
fish fer baby's breakfast. Thar boat hed runned erway with her pappa an'
mamma, she said, an' they war settin' in hit cryin'.
"I reckoned what hed happed ter them, fer tharerbouts the Swift River
air a most deceevin', treetcherous stream, what looks innocent, but hes
a powerful swift current what don't show. City folks haint no business
ter go campin' in woods thet they don't know nothin' erbout," he
interpolated.
"Wall, I left the leetle gal ersettin' on the rock, an' runned es fast
es ever I could down stream ter the rapids. Her folks warn't nowhar ter
be seen, but I found part of thar canoeboat, smashed ter splinters, an'
I guessed the rest." He paused, and smoked steadily for some time before
continuing.
"In course the baby couldn't tell us much, 'ceptin' thet her name war
Rose. She didn't remember the name of the city whar they come from, but
she said thet erfore they come inter the woods, she slept all night on a
train.
"We found ther campin' outfit of her paw an' maw, an' whar hit stood I
built up a leetle mound with a sorter cross on hit, in thar memory.
"In course, I tried ter find out arterwards whar they come from, but hit
warn't no sorter use. Thar war no address on anything in the tent or
thar spare-close, and no one hed seen them in Fayville or tharerbouts,
so I reckoned thay come clar ercross the mountains from Kentuck. Mebbe,
ef I hed hed more money, I mought hev found out erbout them; but us war
powerful po'r them days. An'--mebbe, again, hit war wrong--but maw an'
me couldn't holp thinkin' thet the leetle gal war sent us by the good
Lord, fer we didn't hev no children, hevin' lost a leetle gal jest
erbout es old es Smiles, ten years back."
"I don't think that you have any cause for reproaching yourself, Mr.
Webb," broke in Donald, reassuringly. "It seems to me that you did all
you could do, under the circumstances. Certainly the child was
fortunate, for you have been very kind to the little waif."
"We war mostly kind ter ourselves," was Big Jerry's simple rejoinder.
"She shorely hes been a ray of sunshine in this hyar cabin--'specially
since maw died three years ergone, since when Rose hes taken keer of
hit, an' me. She air a leetle mite of a tyrant, et times, but I reckon
I'm ther better fer hit.
"Wall, we brung her up like our own flesh an' blood, but altho' she
called my woman 'Maw', she allus called me 'Grandpappy.' An' we didn't
never try ter make her fergit her real paw an' maw, an' every
birthday--leastwise we calls ther day she come ter us her birthday--she
puts wild flowers on the mound I made. She's growed up like the other
children hyar, and 'twar them what fust called her Smiles; but 'twarnt
long erfore maw an' me sorter got inter the habit of doin' hit too, fer
hit suits her right well."
The speaker became silent, his memory dwelling in scenes of the dimming
past, while Donald's thoughts were busy with the story which he had just
heard. The inherent difference between _her_ personality and that of the
average mountain girl was explained. The curtsy which she--a
three-year-old baby--had made Big Jerry, seemed to indicate that she
had been a flower of city hothouse culture before being transplanted to
the wilds, and there growing up, in outward semblance at least, in
conformity with her environment. But, Donald felt, within the child lay
an ineradicable strain of breeding, making her different from these
others, an inherited fineness of soul of which her peculiar charm was
evidence.
A little later his host arose, and said with native courtesy, "I reckon
yo're tired enough ter want ter go ter bed, stranger, an' I'll show ye
ter yo'r loft room."
The pair bade each other good-night, and Donald climbed the homemade
ladder to his resting place beneath the roof, on which the rain was
still keeping up a continuous patter. He felt that he was weary enough
so that no rocking was needed to induce slumber, but it was nevertheless
some time before he really fell asleep. And when he did it was with the
mental picture of the child's smile, like a quickly vanishing sun-rift
in the mist, before his closed eyes.
* * * * *
Donald was awakened the next morning by the sound of laughing voices,
and Mike's hilarious barking, outside his little window. Looking through
it he beheld a delightful picture. On the dew-sprinkled grass of the
little clearing about the cottage were merrily romping the dog, Rose and
a small child. Beyond, lay the mountain's wooded descent, rich in
variegated greens and seemingly rising like an island shore from a sea
of pearly vapor, tinted with delicate mauve, rose and amber by the sun,
which had itself not yet risen above the valley mist. Scrambling into
his outer garments, the man ran down to join them in their game.
"Look out, er yo'll git yo're feet wetted, Mr. doctor man," cried Rose
gayly, as she drew her own bare foot through the grass and held it
forward shining with dew.
"Do you think a little thing like wet feet would stop me from getting
into the game?" he answered. "And you called me a sturdy oak! Who is the
little buttercup?" he added, looking at the child whose shock of bright
golden curls made his nickname an apt one.
"She's Lou, Judd's leetle sister, an' her house air jest over thar
beyond ourn. Yo' guessed rightly, she _air_ one er my flower children,
ain't ye, honey-sweet?" Rose dropped to her knees in the wet grass, and
gathered the bashful child against her tenderly. The baby buried her
face in her friend's neck without speaking, and in a moment Rose stood
up, saying, "We-all thinks a heap er Lou, 'specially Judd."
"I've got a little niece at home just about Lou's age. Her name is
Muriel. Would you like to hear about her and her playthings? She's got a
tiny pony and cart," he said, and soon the child was sitting in his lap,
listening wide-eyed to the description of dolls who opened and shut
their eyes, and wonderful mechanical toys which walked and turned
somersaults, monkeys which climbed poles and other equally incredible
things.
"He air a funny man, an' he tells funny stories," giggled the child,
when Donald had exhausted his memory and imagination. "In course thar
hain't no sech things."
"Indeed thar _air_, ef he says thar air," chided Rose with implicit
faith in her friend.
"What, doll babies thet open an' shet thar eyes, an' say 'maw' an' 'paw'
like weuns, Smiles?" asked the baby, unconvinced.
"Wait until I go back home, and I'll send you one that can do every one
of those wonderful things," laughed Donald. "I mean to send Rose a
present, too."
"Oh," cried the latter, "I shall be more'n obleeged ter ye."
"What would you like best," he asked.
She thought seriously a moment, then said, "I reckon I should like best
a white dress an' cap, like the nurses wear."
Donald experienced a pang of regret, but responded lightly, "Very well,
that shall be yours, and I'm also going to send you a little book of
poems called 'The Child's Garden of Verses', written by another man who
looked on babies as flowers, too."
At this moment the sound of quick footsteps caused them to look up. Judd
Amos was coming around the side of the cottage, and the night had
apparently not taken the black look from his countenance.
"Oh, Juddy," cried the baby, wriggling free of Donald's arms. "Thet man
thar air er goin' ter send me er doll baby thet opens an' shets hits
eyes, Juddy."
"We're obleeged ter ye; but I reckon thet I kin buy Lou all the presents
she needs," said Judd gruffly. "Yo' maw wants ye ter come ter breakfast,
sis," he added, and picked the baby up in his long arms, giving her an
undoubtedly affectionate hug as he saw that the tears had sprung to her
eyes.
"That's nonsense," snorted Donald angrily, as Judd disappeared with his
burden. "I'll send the doll to you--along with the dress and book--and
he can't stop _you_ from giving it to her."
"I reckon he _kaint_," Rose responded with eyes flashing. "I kin make
Judd Amos do jest whatsoever I tells him." And Donald thought that she
probably spoke the truth.
"Haint we a-goin' ter hev no breakfast this mornin'?" came Big Jerry's
deep voice, toned to assumed anger, as he appeared with an armful of
wood, and, laughing merrily, Rose blew him a kiss and disappeared
within-doors.
During the morning meal, which was quickly prepared, the girl talked
continually of the delights of being a children's nurse, and as he
observed the look of worry on the old man's face, Donald determined to
put an end to the child's rosy, but impossible, dream as soon as
possible. His duty was plain enough, even if he had not given his
promise to Rose's grandfather; yet the more he saw of her the stronger
grew the unbidden thought of what a wonderful woman she would make if
she could be taken to the city and given the advantages of education.
His opportunity came when, breakfast over, Big Jerry started for the
door, announcing that he would be back in a few moments.
"I'll wait for you to return before I go, and talk to the child as I
agreed," said Donald, in an undertone. The old man nodded his
understanding.
Hardly knowing how to commence, Donald turned to the girl and said
hesitatingly, "Little Rose, I've got to go along in a few moments, but
first I must tell you something which I'm afraid will cause you
disappointment."
Smiles stepped close to him, with her large eyes filled with a surprised
question.
"It is this. I wish, indeed, that you might grow up to be a nurse for
little children, such as my story last night set you to dreaming of
being, but, although I'm sure you would be a splendid one, it is
impossible, you know, dear."
"Why haint hit possible?" she demanded.
"Well, you see, dear child, nurses of that sort have to study and know
almost as much as doctors. They have to train--go to school in the
hospital, that is--for three years."
"But I haint erfeered ter work. I _wants_ ter study, an' larn," she
cried eagerly.
"Yes, I know, but ... well, it costs a lot of money in the first place;
nurses don't get any pay while they're learning, and they have to
deposit three hundred dollars before they can take the course, one
hundred each year. Besides that, they have to have a good education to
start with. Probably you don't know what is meant by a 'High School,'
but a girl must have gone through one--studied steadily for twelve or
thirteen years--or at least have an equivalent amount of education,
before she can hope to enter the Children's Hospital."
"Wha ... what do 'equivalent' mean?" she asked, with her lips beginning
to tremble a little from disappointment.
"It means that you would have to know as much as though you had gone
through a High School, and be able to pass an examination proving that
you do."
Very slowly Rose turned back to recommence her work, and Donald sensed,
rather than saw, that the tears were very near to the surface. Another
roseate dream of childhood had been ruthlessly shattered, and he hated
himself for having witlessly engendered it in her mind, since it could
only be born to die unrealized.
When she spoke again, it was to say with a telltale quaver in her
subdued voice, "I reckon thet us mountain folks kaint never do
worthwhile things, fer all sech take er mighty lot er larnin'."
"There are two kinds of learning in this world, Rose, one of the mind,
and the other of the heart. And without the benefits which come from the
latter, the things of the former would be of little use. You may be sure
that helping one's neighbors, as you are always helping yours; being
happy yourself and making others contented and happier, and bringing
smiles to the lips of friends by the example of your own sweet smile;
are things very much worth while," said Donald, haltingly, but with
sincerity. He placed his arm about her slender shoulder, with the
half-hope that she would accept his comfort, and perhaps cry out the
last of her disappointment with her head on his breast. Instead, she
turned sharply away and went on with the work she had started, and the
man followed her grandfather outside, realizing that hers, like most
battles within the soul, must be fought out alone.
In a few moments, and while he was still talking to Big Jerry, Rose
joined them on the stoop. A quick glance at her flowerlike face told
Donald that her childish--but none the less real--grief was banished,
for a smile of victory curved her lips.
"Ef ye haint a-goin' ter the city right away, doctor," said his host,
"we would be downright pleased ter hev ye come up ergin. I've come ter
like ye right well."
"Indeed I shall--come every day if I may, for you and little Rose seem
like old friends of mine already. And, when I do go back next week, you
may be sure that I shall not forget either of you, or your hospitality."
He picked up his rifle regretfully, whistled to Mike, who came bounding
to him, but whose tail drooped ludicrously when he understood by canine
instinct that the call meant separation from his new comrade, and with a
final good-bye wave, struck off into the woods.