AN INVALID.
“Troubles never come singly,” said poor Mrs. Kayll as she took her
youngest child from Madge’s arms, and looked uneasily at its flushed
face. “If he keeps like this, we must send for the doctor. I can’t
understand it at all.”
The time was about half-past six in the morning, and Madge had been
holding the child while her mother dressed. Both the mother and
daughter had had their rest broken by the baby’s fretfulness, as he
woke up and cried at intervals the whole night through, and first one,
then the other, had risen to walk about with him, trying to soothe him
to sleep.
It was with a sinking heart that Madge lighted the fire and set the
kettle on to boil before breakfast. Was everything going wrong all at
once? But she put on as cheerful an expression as she could, and nobody
expected her to be merry, as it was not in her nature.
Everything felt uncomfortable this morning. The girls were to stay away
from school, as their mother did not want to spare the money for them,
and with Jem there as well the house seemed too full. Besides, both
girls were so anxious to be of use that Madge, in hurrying to and fro,
tumbled over them in all directions. They dusted the rooms, they made
the beds, they came constantly to Madge with the question, “What shall
we do next?” till she was nearly distracted. Yet she racked her brains
every time for something for them to do, knowing that they would be
still more trouble if they were idle. One idle person was bad enough!
“Jem,” said she, as she washed up the breakfast things, “aren’t you
going to see after some work?”
Jem, who was sitting on the table swinging his legs to and fro, and
looking very dismal, nodded assent.
“Because, you know, if you could earn ever so little, it would be a
help; I suppose Mr. Graves would give you a character.”
“Yes, Madgie,” said the boy; “I’m going soon, but I must wait until
baby’s better. I can’t go away while he’s so ill.”
“But you won’t do him any good by staying at home.”
“Perhaps not, but I shouldn’t feel satisfied to be away until I know
what’s the matter with him. Besides, I _might_ be wanted, you know.”
Madge compressed her lips, feeling more inclined to be angry at what
seemed only selfishness, than to admire him, as she usually did, for
his affectionate disposition.
“Bob and Jack are gone,” said she.
“They were obliged. And I don’t think they mind so much,” was the
answer.
The day passed very slowly, and everyone seemed to find it too long.
Mrs. Kayll came down, and attended to various duties with the baby
always in her arms, as she did not care to part with him, even to Madge.
“He keeps just the same,” she said in the afternoon. “I don’t think he
looks any worse.”
Madge caressed the little one’s cheek. She felt half inclined to cry
when she saw the small face quiver as if with pain.
“He doesn’t understand it, poor little fellow,” she said. “I think he
wonders why we don’t help him, and make him feel well again.”
“It’s a good thing father doesn’t know,” said Jem, who was looking on.
“How anxious he would be!”
Meanwhile Mrs. Kayll was turning over a question in her own mind.
Should she send for the doctor, or should she wait a little longer? She
could not afford to pay him, as it had taken more than she knew how
to spare to pay for someone to defend her husband--a matter that she
had arranged on the previous day. The lawyer who had taken the case
in hand had told her she need be under no anxiety, as all was sure to
go well. There would be no difficulty in proving that Mr. Kayll had
been arrested in mistake, with the evidence of Mrs. Coleson to show
where he had been, and that of Jack to explain his possession of the
money, while plenty of people could answer for his being a respectable
auctioneer, and the last man in the world to be mixed up in a burglary,
so that Mrs. Kayll was as much at ease in her mind on that score as she
could be while her husband was still detained.
The evening found no change in the baby. He sat up for a few minutes
once or twice, amused by something Bessie brought to attract his
attention, but his heavy head soon sank back on his mother’s breast,
and he would seldom rouse himself and look round.
Bob came in at his usual time, ate his supper, and then went to Mrs.
Kayll with an air of determination.
“We can’t let you knock yourself up, old lady,” he said, firmly but
gently taking the sick child from her. “You are making yourself ill.
Now, sit in the arm-chair and rest--and Madge, get a pillow to make her
more comfortable.” And Mrs. Kayll yielded, though she had refused again
and again to let Madge relieve her, and dozed off to sleep, while the
big, rough boy walked patiently to and fro, to and fro, with his tiny
brother cradled in his arms.
The baby seemed fairly comfortable in its new position, and was quiet
as long as the regular movement went on. Madge kept the others quiet,
and soon sent them to bed, for the poor exhausted mother was now in a
sound slumber, and they all felt it a duty not to disturb her rest.
Bob walked on with untiring patience, as one hour crept after another
and vanished for ever, refusing Madge’s offers to “take baby,” and
trying in a whisper to get her, too, to go to bed. Once or twice he sat
down until the child began to be restless, when he went on with his
steady pacing as regularly as a machine.
It was nearly three when Mrs. Kayll started up, cramped from sleeping
in a chair, and looked in a horrified way at the clock.
“You poor children!” she whispered. “Why didn’t you wake me? Poor boy!
how tired you look!” And she kissed Bob’s forehead as she relieved him
of his burden. “Come, Madge, we will go upstairs, and get what sleep we
can.”
Madge followed her, with a new idea making its way into her slow brain.
For the first time she was beginning to see what virtues that we never
suspect may be hidden under a rough and uncouth appearance, virtues
that only come out when there is trouble or care to call them forth.
The next morning was much like this one over again, until breakfast
was finished, and the two boys gone. Jem was still lounging about in
idleness, when there came a call from above.
“Madge!”
“Yes, mother.”
“Send Jem for the doctor--quick!”
The boy did not wait to be sent, but snatched up his cap and darted
off. His sister ran upstairs.
“What is it, mother? Is he worse?”
The baby was still lying quietly on Mrs. Kayll’s lap--not flushed
now, but extremely pale. Madge drew near and spoke to him; but though
he opened his eyes he did not seem to see her, but gazed out with a
curious blank stare.
“Oh, mother!” cried Madge, clasping her hands, “I don’t believe he
knows me. Baby, it’s Madge. Baby!”
Mrs. Kayll’s forehead wrinkled itself into upright lines.
“It’s very strange,” she said slowly. “I am getting rather frightened,
though I thought at first this morning that he was better.--No, go
away, dears,” for Edie and Bessie were peering in at the door. “I am
going to keep him very quiet for the present.”
“Mayn’t we come and kiss him, mother?” asked Bessie imploringly.
“Not yet. Not till the doctor has seen him.”
The little girls went unwillingly back to their work, and Madge knelt
on the floor by her mother, still trying to attract the little one’s
notice, but in vain.
“Do you think it’s some illness--something catching?”
“I can’t tell, dear. It doesn’t look like it.”
They were silent, listening anxiously for Jem’s return.
“You see, Madge, he won’t eat, and he can’t go on like that. He has
hardly swallowed any food since the day before yesterday.”
Before long Jem came flying back, scarlet with running, panting, and
out of breath.
“Doctor will come as soon as he can,” he told them--“most likely in an
hour or so. Can I do anything, mother?”
“Nothing,” she answered, scarcely taking her eyes from the pallid
little face. “Nothing but keep quiet, and get the others to be quiet
too.”
Very still the house was for the two hours before the arrival of the
doctor, for whom all were so anxiously looking. And all the while the
baby lay in that listless state, recognizing nobody. The children spoke
in hushed voices, and whispered to each other that they wondered what
father would say if he knew, and that they did wish he were at home.
For the household pet had scarcely had a day’s illness, and had seldom
been even what the nurses call “fractious.”
At last. The doctor had come. He was a thin clever-looking young man,
who seemed as though he had known all of them since they were born, and
who touched Bessie’s soft hair as he passed her on the staircase, and
clapped Jem on the shoulder when he let him in.
He was a long time shut in the bed-room with Mrs. Kayll and the baby.
The children, waiting about outside, could hear his voice, as he asked
a number of questions, followed by their mother’s low-voiced answers.
Then, all at once, he came out, and found their four eager faces
waiting for him.
“Nothing catching,” he said smiling. “I’m going to send him some
physic, and he’ll be ever so much better to-morrow.”