A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED
Dr. Richards had been studying the changes in the child's face. It was
like reading a book, but it had many variations. Her thoughts must
have traveled far and wide. What were they?
"Are you very happy?" he asked.
"Happy?" she echoed, wonderingly. "Why it is a beautiful Sunday. One
ought to be happy--here with you and watching all these lovely
things."
"Are Sundays happier than any other days?"
"Well--" slowly. "They ought to be. It seems as if it was the day of
the Sun, and that's always glad and merry."
"But when it rains or is cloudy?"
"Oh, you _know_ it is there, and maybe He is fighting away the clouds.
And He draws up the water. I read that in a book--and when He gets
enough He lets it fall down as He did last night and that makes the
world so fresh and sweet. And there are fifty-two Sundays when you
ought not----"
"What?" watching the shadow in her eyes.
"Well, I think you ought not work very much. I suppose some people
have to when you have meals to get and babies to see to. I go to
Sunday school with Jack and I like it so much. I've learned ever so
many of the songs. But the lessons puzzle me. They are about God--we
had them in the Home, you know, and God seems so big and strange. Do
you know all about him."
"No, child, and no one, not even ministers can know all, so you need
not worry about that. God has the whole world in His keeping. Don't
you like the week days?"
"Well, they don't seem to have the same joy in them, only at Miss
Armitage's every day seems like Sunday. But I keep counting them. You
see, I'll be thirteen in September. Then when we've had fifty-two
Sundays I'll be fourteen and so on, until I am eighteen."
"And then?" in a sweet kind of tone.
"Why I won't be bound-out any more. It's right for me to stay, _she_
said so, but it would seem such a long while if I was just counting
the years. And Sunday comes so quick, most times, and then you can be
glad."
What a touch of philosophy for a child!
"But--they are good to you at Bordens?"
"Oh, yes. I _love_ Bridget, though I was afraid of her at first. But
the grown people have each other and since I don't really belong to
them--oh, I can't explain it," and the knot came back to her brow.
"You see when you're bound-out and going away for a while they can't
feel the same to you. They're never real cross and they don't whip you
as they did at the Home, and you have nicer things to eat. Sometimes
when you were awful hungry you didn't seem to get enough. You wanted
one more piece of bread, but you couldn't have it. Oh, I like it so
much better at Mrs. Borden's Only Jack--Are boys always bad?"
"I guess they are for the most part," laughing.
"But he will go to school again. And his father says he will outgrow
it. His father truly does want him to be good, and he said I must tell
when he pinched me or kicked me, and he would punish him. But I don't
like to, always, for he denies it, and his mother isn't pleased when I
do. You can feel when people do not like you to tell things. At the
Home when you told tales they whipped the child that was bad, and then
they whipped you for telling tales. It didn't seem as if that was
quite fair, so I tried never to tell on anyone."
"Generally speaking, it is a bad habit," he commented, gravely.
Then they had reached their destination. A poor old paralyzed man sat
in a wheeling chair on the porch. Medical skill could not do much for
him, but friendship and interest made pleasant times to remember when
the hours were long and weary. Dr. Richards had brought some
illustrated magazines, and they talked over the happenings of the
week.
A sweet-faced, rather elderly lady brought Marilla a rocking chair,
and asked her if she was the doctor's patient. Then she offered her a
piece of cake and a lovely pear, and afterward took her down to see
the flower garden that was fairly rioting in beauty, and a flock of
snowy white chickens, as well as some fine pigeons that circled
around like swallows. She was the wife, and there was a daughter who
had gone to church. She talked of Dr. Richards, how good and
comforting he was to "father." Marilla thought he must be good to
everybody.
"I've had a lovely time with you," the child said. Then she shook
hands with "father," who said--
"I s'pose you're the doctor's little girl?" His mind was not always
clear on some points. "Come again, won't you?"
She smiled and nodded. "The doctor's little girl," how sweet it
sounded! But of course that could not be.
They had a delightful ride home though it was growing warmer. How
beautiful her eyes were today--a sort of gray-violet, and the bronze
lashes almost curled. And as he listened to her soft, flowing voice,
he kept thinking--if he was to marry some one and have a little girl
full of quaint ideas as this one was! But it would take a long, long
while, and he sighed.
Miss Armitage was sitting by the parlor window when they returned, and
she came to the door to meet them.
"I ran away with your little invalid," the doctor exclaimed. "Haven't
I brought her back improved?"
Her cheeks were positively rosy and were rounded out by the exquisite
shading. She clasped her small arms around Miss Armitage.
"And I've had the most splendid time! A real Sunday. We've been out in
the beautiful country where birds were singing hymns and I'm just full
of happiness."
They had kept their pact, these two people; they could not have worked
together otherwise, and each one was following the same path, for the
good of the poor of this world.
"I am very glad----"
"Then you are not going to scold me?" with a questioning smile. "I
promised her a drive you know, and today was rather a holiday to me."
"Why, she doesn't scold," cried Marilla in a sort of joyful
contradiction.
"Won't you come in and have some dinner with us?"
"Pete would grumble if he stood here an hour. Now, if you would change
it to supper--and a cup of tea----"
"Let be a cup of tea, then. I want to talk over some plans."
"Very well. Expect me on the mark. Six, isn't it?"
"Yes," with a smile.
"Oh, I'm just delighted," and Marilla squeezed his hand.
"So you had a lovely time. Where did you go?"
"Oh--through the park and then out on such a beautiful road. Things
seem nicer on Sunday, because there isn't so much noise. And there was
an old man who has to get about in a chair with little wheels, and
can't walk any more. And the lady gave me some cake and such a
luscious pear, and asked me to come again. I just wished that there
was some little girl from the Home living there."
Marilla had her face and hands washed, and a fresh white frock put on.
She was so bright and chatty and really charming. But after dinner she
lay in the Morris chair and Miss Armitage read her to sleep. It seemed
as if she had improved so much in the twenty-four hours.
They had such a genial and charming supper, and Miss Armitage played
on the organ afterward and then talked about the girls who were going
to the Rest House next week. Five of them were very much worn out.
They would need to stay a full fortnight.
"And I think one of them needs some medical attention. Come to the
Settlement and see her before she starts. And you know I am booked for
that Canadian journey with the Winslows. I am almost sorry I promised.
Do you think it would be safe to let the child go to the Bordens on
Saturday?"
"You won't let her go back! She is worth something better than baby
tending."
"You shouldn't have cured her up so soon! I don't exactly see my way
clear or I should keep her for good and all. I like her very much. You
may laugh at me about my swans being ordinary geese--but we must admit
the Bordens have the right to her at present. And I do not want to
make bad friends with them, seeing that in law he may exact the pound
of flesh. They may tire of her or she may not be able to stand the
babies and Jack. I could leave her here with Jane or send her to the
Home. But she is very much resigned to the return. She has a curious
bit of conscience about it. So it is best to let her try again."
"I can't bear the thought of it." He uttered it with vehemence.
"I don't like it much myself. But it seems the only way at present.
Bridget will look out for her. We can't accuse them of any cruelty or
neglect."
"And she fairly worships you--fairy godmother."
"I wish I were. I should change the lot of more than one Cinderella.
Well--we will wait and see."
Marilla came in with a bunch of flowers.
"Jane said I might pick them for the doctor, and the ride was so nice.
I shall put it in among the splendid things of my life--like the
dream, and coming here--and when I get settled in bed and all is dark
I can make a real fairy land out of it."
He took her flowers and kissed her, and said "Good-night" to them in a
low tone. But he went home racking his brains to see if something
could not be done toward keeping her.
Bridget came around one afternoon and was enthusiastic over her
improvement.
"They're doing pretty well and I believe the twins are not to get any
more teeth in a year or two. And the boss says they've thinned out
astonishing, and they can talk a good bit. And that girl's going to
the other place and they say you just must come down. But not a foot
should you stir if you wasn't real well. An' its glad enough I am to
have himself at breakfast at the morn and dinner at night. It's like
living again, but I don't want to see any more twins."
Marilla laughed. "Yes, I feel all well only sometimes I have a little
catch in my breath; and I'll be ready to go on Saturday."
"An' I'll just be praying to the saints to send you back safe and
sound. I don't see why people should be kitin' off to strange places,
when they've a good, comfortable house to stay in. But the saints be
praised for the rest with that imp of a Jack being away! They do be
grown up after awhile an' I s'pose you couldn't have men if there were
no boy babies."
Then Mr. Borden called late one afternoon and brought a note from his
wife. Ellen had to leave on Saturday or lose the nice place, and the
babies were well now, walking all round and beginning to say cunning
words. Pansy called "Illa, Illa," and then looked around for Marilla
to come, and said--"Papa bing Illa." They wanted her so much. All
their meals were taken over in the next cottage, and the laundress
came twice a week for the washings. The children were out of doors
most of the time, and they were on the ground floor, so there was no
going up and down stairs. Marilla would have it very easy and they
would take the best of care of her.
Mr. Borden was both kind and gentlemanly. He hoped there would be some
way in which they could repay Miss Armitage for all her care. Would
she accept a contribution for the Babies' Hospital, he had heard she
was interested in, or any other charity?
It was very nice of him, Miss Armitage thought, and she chose the
hospital. Marilla had been out walking with Jane and when she came in
Mr. Borden was so cordial that it won the child's heart, and she was
the more willing to go because she should lose her dear Miss Armitage
for a month.
"And afterward, you must come and see me and we will have nice times
together, and I may teach you a little music--you learn so easily. Oh,
I count on seeing a good deal of you."
The parting was not as bitter as Miss Armitage had feared, partly
because Mr. Borden was there and in such good spirits, and Marilla was
thinking that the month would soon pass and that in any event she
could not see her dear fairy godmother in that time.
The journey interested her very much. She had never taken so long a
ride in the cars. Mr. Borden bought her a box of marshmallows and he
had some illustrated papers. And there at the station was Miss
Florence who gave her a cordial welcome, and the big surrey drove them
and three other passengers to their destination. Mrs. Borden ran down
the path to meet them.
"I've been on pins and needles lest something should happen," she
began. "Why, Marilla, you don't look as if you had ever been ill! And
we're so glad to get you back. Oh, you don't know what an awful time I
had, and at first the babies wouldn't let Ellen touch them. Flo or I
had to feed them. I'm clear worn out now, but I do hope the babies
haven't forgotten you, for I want a little rest. It seemed too bad
that you should have given out just then. And I do believe you've
grown taller. Why, you are quite a big girl."
The twins sat on a blanket on the grassy space at the side of the
house. Mrs. Borden led the girl out to them with a glad sound in her
voice.
"Here's your dear Illa come," she said. "Dear Illa that you've wanted
so much."
Pansy looked up. Marilla gave one spring and knelt down beside them.
It was nice to be longed for, to be remembered. She had really loved
them. Her heart was always reaching out for something to love.
"Illa, Illa," almost shouted Pansy and went down head first in
Marilla's lap.
"Oh, you darling!"
"I'm glad you didn't get weaned away, Marilla. I was afraid you would,
having such a fuss made over you. Mr. Borden said the house was fine.
That Miss Armitage must be rich. Well--she was very good to you and
did the best she could for us. But that Ellen didn't like children,
that was the long and the short of it, and she has just the place for
her, and eighteen dollars a month. Yes, Violet, this is our own
Marilla come back to us, and we shall never let her go away again."
Violet had looked rather wary and been chewing on the end of her
thumb, but now she nodded and began to hitch toward Marilla.
"Now we're going over to the cottage to dinner. It's such a pleasure
to go together. I always take Jack. He has nice table manners if he
isn't an angel otherwise. Oh, there he is! Jack, here's Marilla!"
Jack gave a sort of wild howl of delight and started on a run with
outstretched arms. Over went Marilla and Pansy and Jack on the top of
the heap. Pansy gave a smothered scream.
Mrs. Borden caught Jack by the shoulder and dragged him up. "You bad,
bad boy!" she exclaimed, angrily.
"Hello! what's the row?" asked Mr. Borden, advancing to the fray.
Jack rubbed his eyes to make some tears.
"Well, you said you was glad to see her an' so was I. An' I was jest
gone' to hug her an' the bug fell over, an' I couldn't help it."
Mr. Borden laughed. Mrs. Borden picked up Pansy and comforted her. But
she did howl as if she had been half killed.
"Jack, go to Aunt Florence and be made ready for dinner," in a
commanding tone. "Oh dear, it does seem----"
"Well things will go better now," said Mr. Borden soothingly.
"Marilla, you are going to be the salvation of the household. Did the
twins really know her?"
"Pansy did, I think Pansy's really smarter that Violet, I do hope
we'll have a little comfort now. There Pansy, dear, go to your sweet
Marilla," and she stood the child down. "We must hurry or we will be
late for dinner."
Marilla saw the four go over to the cottage, as it was called. She had
been tired out with the railroad journey, entertaining as it was, then
the excitement of meeting them all again, the bump on her forehead
when she had come down so hard on Pansy's head, and the screams that
seemed like a stab going from temple to temple tired her
inexpressibly. Then, too, she was hungry. Oh, if she could have a
glass of hot milk such as Jane used to bring her! She really could not
help crying a little. Both babies stood up by her. Violet pounding on
one shoulder, Pansy making a grab at her hair that seemed to pull it
out by the roots.
"Pitty, pitty!" she said gleefully.
"Oh, Pansy dear, you hurt." She disentangled the one hand, but the
other made the same clutch and was more difficult to manage. Then she
rose to her knees that her head might be out of reach. Violet came
down heavily and began to cry. Poor Marilla hardly knew what to do.
The babies were much thinner and their faces not so pudgy, but Marilla
thought they still resembled the Campbell soup little girl and laughed
in spite of her own hurts. Then Violet spied a green apple and made a
bee line for it.
"She can't bite it," thought Marilla, and as it kept rolling it amused
the baby. Then Pansy crept toward it and there was a rather funny
time. Violet slapped her twin in the face and there was another howl
and Marilla went to the rescue. Oh, what should she do? Everything was
so strange!
"Bed'y mik, bed'y mik," demanded Pansy, "Bed'y milk."
"Let us go and find some," and she raised the baby to her feet, taking
her by the hand. They walked up on the porch, and she placed her in
the carriage while she glanced at Violet. Not a moment too soon--the
little sharp teeth were making inroads on the apple. She ran and
snatched it, throwing it out of sight. There was another howl. Mrs.
Borden came hurrying down.
"What is the matter?" rather crossly.
"Violet found an apple and bit in it; I threw it away."
"Oh, that was right Marilla," in a mollified tone. "Where's Pansy?"
"On the porch, in the carriage. I think she's hungry. It sounded as if
she meant bread and milk."
"Yes. They have that for their supper. I guess I can start it. I used
to feed them first. Let me see. I guess I can show you--you're so
handy unless they've spoiled you."
She had Violet in her arms and said--"Bring in Pansy," leading the way
to a room that seemed a general storage place. She lighted the little
pyro stove, opened a closet and took out a saucepan, a bottle of milk,
a sugar dish and some spoons.
"Now as soon as it gets warm, you fix it--you cannot have forgotten
how, and then turn this screw and put the light out. For heaven's sake
don't set anything afire! Oh, there's no place like your own home. I
haven't had an hour's comfort since I came down here. And my dinner's
getting cold. Nice baked veal it was, with dressing. There babies,
Marilla will give you some nice bread and milk."
She ran off. The babies whined a little and then watched the
proceedings. The stove stood up on a table and she poured out part of
the milk. Then she gave the babies a crust of bread to stop their
clamoring while she crumbed up some in the saucepan and kept stirring
it so that it shouldn't scorch, taking out part, presently. Pansy
climbed up by a chair and began to call "Bed'y mik, bed'y mik."
Marilla put on her bib and began to feed her. Then Violet joined with
her starvation cry. First it was one open pink mouth then the other.
The viands disappeared as if by magic. She meant to have a little for
herself--she was so weak and gone in the stomach, but she found she
must make some more, even, for the babies. So she crumbed up the
remainder of the loaf. How they _did_ eat! She was very tired of
ladling it in each little mouth.
She had a very little left for herself, but it seemed to help the
desperately tired feeling. She had put the stove out without any
mishap. Pansy began to cry--"Wock, wock."
"What is it dear? Was it anything more to eat?" She glanced through
the closet.
"Wock, wock," hanging to her skirt.
"Me wock," joined in the chorus that might be Chinese.
Oh, would they never come! She took the babies out on the porch. There
was a big rocker. Pansy ran to it and patted it, rolling up her
eyes.
"Oh, yes, Rock. I might have guessed, but my head feels so tired and
queer." Then she took the cushions and blankets out of the carriage
and lifted up Violet, settling her in one side. But Pansy would have
none of it. She squirmed down on the floor and began to cry.
"Oh, I don't know what you want!" Marilla almost fell into the chair
and jogged it gently. Violet was going to sleep. Poor Cinderella wiped
the tears that would have run down her cheeks. She was so tired. Even
the babies crying did not move her. But when she heard the voices she
sprang up.
"Oh, what is the matter?" asked Mrs. Borden.
"They wanted to be rocked," explained Marilla, "and I put them both in
the chair, but Pansy wouldn't stay----"
"We have spoiled them. Ellen used to sit in the chair and hold them
both. That seemed about the only thing she could do that would please
them. And I've held one in the right and Aunt Florence the other until
my back ached and I was fit to fall to pieces. We've had the most
awful time, Flo and I. But I remember I had a dreadful time cutting
my wisdom teeth, and I was grown. I used to walk the floor at night,
they would swell up so. We can't blame the poor babies. And they
missed you so. They used to be so good, wasn't they M'rilla; and I
suppose they'll be good again. They must be undressed and put to bed.
Flo, you look after Violet, and M'rilla you run over and get some
dinner. You must be most starved."
Mrs. Borden had picked up Pansy who had now turned to her comforting
thumb.
"Oh, run over. You needn't be afraid. Ellen liked the girls first
rate. Here, Mr. Borden will escort you."
"I expect you're tired out and homesick," he said sympathetically.
"But we will have things better tomorrow. And we are all so glad to
have you--this way. Here, Katie, give this little girl a good dinner.
She deserves the best you have."
They were clearing the dining room. One long table was piled up with
the used dishes. At the other, covered with rather worn enameled
cloth, sat two women and one young man. Kate made a place for the
child and brought her a plate with most everything piled on it.
Bridget, at home, was so much neater, but then she didn't have so many
hungry people to feed. And Jane with her dainty ways!
Oh, she was just a little bound-out nurse girl. She had danced and
feasted with the prince; she had been in the palace with the fairy
godmother where she was waited on as if she were a little lady. And
there had been the Sunday ride with Dr. Richards. Was it _all_
dreams?
She could not eat. The food was mostly cold. There was a big lump in
her throat and a heaviness in her heart. How long and dreary the five
years looked!
"I'm not hungry," and she pushed the plate away.
"But you'll have some pudding and some cream. I told you, Maggie,
they'd stuff theirselves on that there puddin'! You can beat the band
on that."
"I'll just have the cream," the little girl said, timidly.
"Well you won't last long to take care of them there babies if you
can't eat better'n that!" said Katie. "I never see such squabs in my
life!"
"Oh, Katie, that won't do. They're 'Kate Greenaway' children. Was she
some one who fatted up young ones? Well, she'd better let 'em alone to
my thinkin'. And their great round eyes! And the crossest things I
ever did see! Mrs. Munson thought she'd have to give up t' other side
of the house."
"Be careful," cautioned Maggie, with a slight turn of the head.
Marilla ate her cream, and it really tasted good. Then she rose and
said good-night in a quiet fashion.
"Katie, you must remember about little pitchers," cautioned some one.
"Well--that's a nice little girl and I don't believe she'd carry
tales. Ellen said she wouldn't take care of those babies for ten
dollars a week. And what's this child ever going to do----"
"Mr. Borden is a nice kind of a man and when he's around that Jack
behaves like a little gentleman, and the ladies do very well; they're
pleasant and don't put on airs. But what they'll do with those
twins----"
"Well, they won't always be getting teeth. It's a hard time with
babies."
And so they gossiped while they washed dishes and set the kitchen in
order for morning. If they had ever been Cinderella they had forgotten
about it.