SET TO WORK.
IT seemed a long morning to all concerned, if the truth must be told,
to all at any rate but Mrs. Leigh, who found absorbing employment in
ministering to the wants of her darling.
At length school was over, and the children were released.
"Oh, may we go?" exclaimed Mollie. "I do want to see little Lester so
much!"
Gertrude consented at once, hoping, however, that Randall would make
himself an exception.
But he had no such intention; curiosity overcame everything else, and
he ran on tiptoe with the others across the landing to Mrs. Leigh's
room.
"Are we too many?" whispered Mollie, when, after her low tap, Mrs.
Leigh came to the door.
"Come in, dears," was her ready response. "I know, after all your
thoughtfulness for us, that you will be longing to see my little
Lester."
The children advanced, Randall pushing in front of the others, so as to
be able to see well; Hugh, who was kept at home by a cold, and was with
the others, hardly getting a place at all.
"Come here, Hugh," said Gertrude softly; "this chair will bring you
close to Lester's pillow. You can stand here."
The little boy looked up gratefully. Rose was uncovering her child, and
showing them his bright, golden curls.
"Can't he be dressed?" asked Randall.
"He has no clothes," said Mrs. Leigh, smiling a little. Then her face
resumed its quiet, grave expression as she added, "But I am afraid he
has hardly strength just yet."
"We have heaps of Randall's clothes up-stairs," said Mollie. "I shall
ask mother if he could not have some of those."
"Do not trouble her, thank you, dear," said Rose. "I can easily get
some when I can go to a shop. He will do very well till the doctor has
seen him."
Mrs. Shaddock, however, had been before any of them in her thought for
the little stranger under her roof. She came in at the moment, followed
by nurse bearing a heap of dainty clothes, which a few years ago had
adorned her youngest boy.
"You are entirely welcome to these!" she exclaimed. "I have no use for
them at all. I believe I ought to have given them away long ago, but
you see I never have."
But when she bent over little Lester, her manner changed, and she added
gently—"Perhaps it would be kinder not to disturb him with clothes and
fussing at present. What do you think, nurse?"
Nurse was entirely agreed. "Let him be, ma'am, and give him as much
nourishment as he is able to take," was her advice.
The little clothes were folded together in a drawer, and no more was
said about them.
"Has he been out of bed yet?" asked Daisy shyly.
"Only to be washed. Oh, he is so thin!" answered his mother, looking up
at Gertrude. "I feel as if I could hardly wait till Fritz comes."
"I am sure you must," said Gertrude, "but a few more hours will soon
pass now, and perhaps Fritz may have some special doctor he wishes to
consult."
So Gertrude left the children with her sister, and put on her hat to
make her promised visit to Mrs. Swift at the Strange House.
She was quickly admitted, and the woman led the way into her kitchen
without a word.
"I have come," said Gertrude.
"Yes, I knew you would. Have you any good news to tell me about the
little boy? What does the doctor say?" she asked abruptly. She seemed
as if she had strung herself up to ask those questions, for her lips
looked dry and parched.
"Not yet," answered Gertrude. "We are waiting for his father."
The woman gave one of those gasps which Gertrude had noticed before,
and then said hurriedly—
"It seems funny to have kept him so long myself without a doctor, and
now to be sorry that you are even waiting a single day! And yet I am,
miss. I'm afraid whether the little dear is not dying!"
Gertrude felt as if her blood grew cold to her finger-tips. But she
answered after a moment quite calmly—
"I hope not—I trust not. Our Heavenly Father, who has so lovingly given
him back to us, will lead us straight on now."
The woman glanced up with a faint smile. The first which she had seen
on that woe-begone face, Gertrude thought.
"Ah! What a thing it is to have God to trust!" she exclaimed. "Dear
miss! I believe if I had had my Saviour to go to two years ago, this
would never have happened."
"I feel sure of that," answered Gertrude heartily. "Things will be
different for you now, will they not?"
The smile faded, but the woman answered steadily—
"Yes, indeed, miss. But this is the last time you will see me. My
husband says he cannot bear the house, and I am sure no more can I; so
we have decided to go at once. You see, miss, we've got a little money
coming in regularly, or we couldn't do it. We shall go somewhere where
I can get to and from Johnnie's grave. That's all I care about now."
Gertrude put her hand on the woman's arm gently.
"Time will soften your sorrow," she said tenderly, "but there is
something better for you than time. Jesus will soften your sorrow—nay,
has He not already?—And will give you something to do for Him."
"My working days are over," said the woman dejectedly; "I seem to have
lived my life."
"Yes, so you have, your past life. Now it is the new life you have
to live; the life by faith in the Son of God, who loved you and gave
Himself for you!"
"Dear miss, I wish I could."
"Ask Him, and He will show you how."
"Now Johnnie and the little one are gone, I seem to have nothing to do!"
"But there is your husband. There is everything to do for him, is there
not?"
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