For some days, nothing was seen and little was heard of the “dear
sufferers,” as the old ladies called them. But they were not forgotten;
the first words uttered when any of the young people met were: “How is
Jack?” “Seen Jill yet?” and all waited with impatience for the moment
when they could be admitted to their favorite mates, more than ever
objects of interest now.
Meantime, the captives spent the first few days in sleep, pain, and
trying to accept the hard fact that school and play were done with for
months perhaps. But young spirits are wonderfully elastic and soon cheer
up, and healthy young bodies heal fast, or easily adapt themselves to
new conditions. So our invalids began to mend on the fourth day, and
to drive their nurses distracted with efforts to amuse them, before the
first week was over.
The most successful attempt originated in Ward No. 1, as Mrs. Minot
called Jack's apartment, and we will give our sympathizing readers some
idea of this place, which became the stage whereon were enacted many
varied and remarkable scenes.
Each of the Minot boys had his own room, and there collected his own
treasures and trophies, arranged to suit his convenience and taste.
Frank's was full of books, maps, machinery, chemical messes, and
geometrical drawings, which adorned the walls like intricate cobwebs.
A big chair, where he read and studied with his heels higher than his
head, a basket of apples for refreshment at all hours of the day or
night, and an immense inkstand, in which several pens were always
apparently bathing their feet, were the principal ornaments of his
scholastic retreat.
Jack's hobby was athletic sports, for he was bent on having a strong and
active body for his happy little soul to live and enjoy itself in. So a
severe simplicity reigned in his apartment; in summer, especially, for
then his floor was bare, his windows were uncurtained, and the chairs
uncushioned, the bed being as narrow and hard as Napoleon's. The only
ornaments were dumbbells, whips, bats, rods, skates, boxing-gloves, a
big bath-pan and a small library, consisting chiefly of books on games,
horses, health, hunting, and travels. In winter his mother made things
more comfortable by introducing rugs, curtains, and a fire. Jack,
also, relented slightly in the severity of his training, occasionally
indulging in the national buckwheat cake, instead of the prescribed
oatmeal porridge, for breakfast, omitting his cold bath when the
thermometer was below zero, and dancing at night, instead of running a
given distance by day.
Now, however, he was a helpless captive, given over to all sorts of
coddling, laziness, and luxury, and there was a droll mixture of mirth
and melancholy in his face, as he lay trussed up in bed, watching the
comforts which had suddenly robbed his room of its Spartan simplicity.
A delicious couch was there, with Frank reposing in its depths, half
hidden under several folios which he was consulting for a history of the
steam-engine, the subject of his next composition.
A white-covered table stood near, with all manner of dainties set forth
in a way to tempt the sternest principles. Vases of flowers bloomed on
the chimney-piece,--gifts from anxious young ladies, left with their
love. Frivolous story-books and picture-papers strewed the bed, now
shrouded in effeminate chintz curtains, beneath which Jack lay like
a wounded warrior in his tent. But the saddest sight for our crippled
athlete was a glimpse, through a half-opened door, at the beloved
dumb-bells, bats, balls, boxing-gloves, and snow-shoes, all piled
ignominiously away in the bath-pan, mournfully recalling the fact that
their day was over, now, at least for some time.
He was about to groan dismally, when his eye fell on a sight which made
him swallow the groan, and cough instead, as if it choked him a little.
The sight was his mother's face, as she sat in a low chair rolling
bandages, with a basket beside her in which were piles of old linen,
lint, plaster, and other matters, needed for the dressing of wounds. As
he looked, Jack remembered how steadily and tenderly she had stood by
him all through the hard times just past, and how carefully she had
bathed and dressed his wound each day in spite of the effort it cost her
to give him pain or even see him suffer.
“That's a better sort of strength than swinging twenty-pound dumb-bells
or running races; I guess I'll try for that kind, too, and not howl or
let her see me squirm when the doctor hurts,” thought the boy, as he saw
that gentle face so pale and tired with much watching and anxiety, yet
so patient, serene, and cheerful, that it was like sunshine.
“Lie down and take a good nap, mother dear, I feel first-rate, and Frank
can see to me if I want anything. Do, now,” he added, with a persuasive
nod toward the couch, and a boyish relish in stirring up his lazy
brother.
After some urging, Mamma consented to go to her room for forty winks,
leaving Jack in the care of Frank, begging him to be as quiet as
possible if the dear boy wished to sleep, and to amuse him if he did
not.
Being worn out, Mrs. Minot lengthened her forty winks into a three
hours' nap, and as the “dear boy” scorned repose, Mr. Frank had his
hands full while on guard.
“I'll read to you. Here's Watt, Arkwright, Fulton, and a lot of capital
fellows, with pictures that will do your heart good. Have a bit, will
you?” asked the new nurse, flapping the leaves invitingly.--for Frank
had a passion for such things, and drew steam-engines all over his
slate, as Tommy Traddles drew hosts of skeletons when low in his
spirits.
“I don't want any of your old boilers and stokers and whirligigs. I'm
tired of reading, and want something regularly jolly,” answered Jack,
who had been chasing white buffaloes with “The Hunters of the West,”
till he was a trifle tired and fractious.
“Play cribbage, euchre, anything you like;” and Frank obligingly
disinterred himself from under the folios, feeling that it _was_ hard
for a fellow to lie flat a whole week.
“No fun; just two of us. Wish school was over, so the boys would come
in; doctor said I might see them now.”
“They'll be along by and by, and I'll hail them. Till then, what shall
we do? I'm your man for anything, only put a name to it.”
“Just wish I had a telegraph or a telephone, so I could talk to Jill.
Wouldn't it be fun to pipe across and get an answer!”
“I'll make either you say;” and Frank looked as if trifles of that sort
were to be had for the asking.
“Could you, really?”
“We'll start the telegraph first, then you can send things over if you
like,” said Frank, prudently proposing the surest experiment.
“Go ahead, then. I'd like that, and so would Jill, for I know she wants
to hear from me.”
“There's one trouble, though; I shall have to leave you alone for a few
minutes while I rig up the ropes;” and Frank looked sober, for he was a
faithful boy, and did not want to desert his post.
“Oh, never mind; I won't want anything. If I do, I can pound for Ann.”
“And wake mother. I'll fix you a better way than that;” and, full
of inventive genius, our young Edison spliced the poker to part of a
fishing-rod in a jiffy, making a long-handled hook which reached across
the room.
“There's an arm for you; now hook away, and let's see how it works,”
he said, handing over the instrument to Jack, who proceeded to show its
unexpected capabilities by hooking the cloth off the table in attempting
to get his handkerchief, catching Frank by the hair when fishing for a
book, and breaking a pane of glass in trying to draw down the curtain.
“It's so everlasting long, I can't manage it,” laughed Jack, as it
finally caught in his bed-hangings, and nearly pulled them, ring and
all, down upon his head.
“Let it alone, unless you need something very much, and don't bother
about the glass. It's just what we want for the telegraph wire or
rope to go through. Keep still, and I'll have the thing running in ten
minutes;” and, delighted with the job, Frank hurried away, leaving Jack
to compose a message to send as soon as it was possible.
“What in the world is that flying across the Minots' yard,--a brown hen
or a boy's kite?” exclaimed old Miss Hopkins, peering out of her window
at the singular performances going on in her opposite neighbor's garden.
First, Frank appeared with a hatchet and chopped a clear space in the
hedge between his own house and the cottage; next, a clothes line was
passed through this aperture and fastened somewhere on the other side;
lastly, a small covered basket, slung on this rope, was seen hitching
along, drawn either way by a set of strings; then, as if satisfied with
his job, Frank retired, whistling “Hail Columbia.”
“It's those children at their pranks again. I thought broken bones
wouldn't keep them out of mischief long,” said the old lady, watching
with great interest the mysterious basket travelling up and down the
rope from the big house to the cottage.
If she had seen what came and went over the wires of the “Great
International Telegraph,” she would have laughed till her spectacles
flew off her Roman nose. A letter from Jack, with a large orange, went
first, explaining the new enterprise:--
“Dear Jill,--It's too bad you can't come over to see me. I am pretty
well, but awful tired of keeping still. I want to see you ever so much.
Frank has fixed us a telegraph, so we can write and send things. Won't
it be jolly! I can't look out to see him do it; but, when you pull your
string, my little bell rings, and I know a message is coming. I send you
an orange. Do you like _gorver_ jelly? People send in lots of goodies,
and we will go halves. Good-by.
“Jack”
Away went the basket, and in fifteen minutes it came back from the
cottage with nothing in it but the orange.
“Hullo! Is she mad?” asked Jack, as Frank brought the despatch for him
to examine.
But, at the first touch, the hollow peel opened, and out fell a letter,
two gum-drops, and an owl made of a peanut, with round eyes drawn at the
end where the stem formed a funny beak. Two bits of straw were the legs,
and the face looked so like Dr. Whiting that both boys laughed at the
sight.
“That's so like Jill; she'd make fun if she was half dead. Let's see
what she says;” and Jack read the little note, which showed a sad
neglect of the spelling-book:--
“Dear Jacky,--I can't stir and it's horrid. The telly graf is very nice
and we will have fun with it. I never ate any _gorver_ jelly. The orange
was first rate. Send me a book to read. All about bears and ships
and crockydiles. The doctor was coming to see you, so I sent him the
quickest way. Molly Loo says it is dreadful lonesome at school without
us. Yours truly,
“Jill”
Jack immediately despatched the book and a sample of guava jelly, which
unfortunately upset on the way, to the great detriment of “The Wild
Beasts of Asia and Africa.” Jill promptly responded with the loan of a
tiny black kitten, who emerged spitting and scratching, to Jack's great
delight; and he was cudgelling his brains as to how a fat white rabbit
could be transported, when a shrill whistle from without saved Jill from
that inconvenient offering.
“It's the fellows; do you want to see them?” asked Frank, gazing down
with calm superiority upon the three eager faces which looked up at him.
“Guess I do!” and Jack promptly threw the kitten overboard, scorning to
be seen by any manly eye amusing himself with such girlish toys.
Bang! went the front door; tramp, tramp, tramp, came six booted feet up
the stairs; and, as Frank threw wide the door, three large beings
paused on the threshold to deliver the courteous “Hullo!” which is the
established greeting among boys on all social occasions.
“Come along, old fellows; I'm ever so glad to see you!” cried the
invalid, with such energetic demonstrations of the arms that he looked
as if about to fly or crow, like an excited young cockerel.
“How are you, Major?”
“Does the leg ache much, Jack?”
“Mr. Phipps says you'll have to pay for the new rails.”
With these characteristic greetings, the gentlemen cast away their hats
and sat down, all grinning cheerfully, and all with eyes irresistibly
fixed upon the dainties, which proved too much for the politeness of
ever-hungry boys.
“Help yourselves,” said Jack, with a hospitable wave. “All the dear old
ladies in town have been sending in nice things, and I can't begin to
eat them up. Lend a hand and clear away this lot, or we shall have to
throw them out of the window. Bring on the doughnuts and the tarts and
the shaky stuff in the entry closet, Frank, and let's have a lark.”
No sooner said than done. Gus took the tarts, Joe the doughnuts, Ed the
jelly, and Frank suggested “spoons all round” for the Italian cream. A
few trifles in the way of custard, fruit, and wafer biscuits were not
worth mentioning; but every dish was soon emptied, and Jack said, as he
surveyed the scene of devastation with great satisfaction,--
“Call again to-morrow, gentlemen, and we will have another bout. Free
lunches at 5 P.M. till further notice. Now tell me all the news.”
For half an hour, five tongues went like mill clappers, and there is no
knowing when they would have stopped if the little bell had not suddenly
rung with a violence that made them jump.
“That's Jill; see what she wants, Frank;” and while his brother sent off
the basket, Jack told about the new invention, and invited his mates to
examine and admire.
They did so, and shouted with merriment when the next despatch from Jill
arrived. A pasteboard jumping-jack, with one leg done up in cotton-wool
to preserve the likeness, and a great lump of molasses candy in a brown
paper, with accompanying note:--
“Dear Sir,--I saw the boys go in, and know you are having a nice time,
so I send over the candy Molly Loo and Merry brought me. Mammy says I
can't eat it, and it will all melt away if I keep it. Also a picture of
Jack Minot, who will dance on one leg and waggle the other, and make you
laugh. I wish I could come, too. Don't you hate grewel? I do.--In haste,
“J.P.”
“Let's all send her a letter,” proposed Jack, and out came pens,
ink, paper, and the lamp, and every one fell to scribbling. A droll
collection was the result, for Frank drew a picture of the fatal fall
with broken rails flying in every direction, Jack with his head swollen
to the size of a balloon, and Jill in two pieces, while the various boys
and girls were hit off with a sly skill that gave Gus legs like a stork,
Molly Loo hair several yards long, and Boo a series of visible howls
coming out of an immense mouth in the shape of o's. The oxen were
particularly good, for their horns branched like those of the moose, and
Mr. Grant had a patriarchal beard which waved in the breeze as he bore
the wounded girl to a sled very like a funeral pyre, the stakes being
crowned with big mittens like torches.
“You ought to be an artist. I never saw such a dabster as you are.
That's the very moral of Joe, all in a bunch on the fence, with a blot
to show how purple his nose was,” said Gus, holding up the sketch for
general criticism and admiration.
“I'd rather have a red nose than legs like a grasshopper; so you needn't
twit, Daddy,” growled Joe, quite unconscious that a blot actually did
adorn his nose, as he labored over a brief despatch.
The boys enjoyed the joke, and one after the other read out his message
to the captive lady:--
“Dear Jill,--Sorry you ain't here. Great fun. Jack pretty lively. Laura
and Lot would send love if they knew of the chance. Fly round and get
well.
“Gus”
“Dear Gilliflower,--Hope you are pretty comfortable in your 'dungeon
cell.' Would you like a serenade when the moon comes? Hope you will soon
be up again, for we miss you very much. Shall be very happy to help in
any way I can. Love to your mother. Your true friend,
“E.D.”
“Miss Pecq.
“_Dear Madam_,--I am happy to tell you that we are all well, and hope
you are the same. I gave Jem Cox a licking because he went to your desk.
You had better send for your books. You won't have to pay for the sled
or the fence. Jack says he will see to it. We have been having a spread
over here. First-rate things. I wouldn't mind breaking a leg, if I
had such good grub and no chores to do. No more now, from yours, with
esteem,
“Joseph P. Flint”
Joe thought that an elegant epistle, having copied portions of it from
the “Letter Writer,” and proudly read it off to the boys, who assured
him that Jill would be much impressed.
“Now, Jack, hurry up and let us send the lot off, for we must go,”
said Gus, as Frank put the letters in the basket, and the clatter of
tea-things was heard below.
“I'm not going to show mine. It's private and you mustn't look,”
answered Jack, patting down an envelope with such care that no one had a
chance to peep.
But Joe had seen the little note copied, and while the others were at
the window working the telegraph he caught up the original, carelessly
thrust by Jack under the pillow, and read it aloud before any one knew
what he was about.
“My Dear,--I wish I could send you some of my good times. As I can't, I
send you much love, and I hope you will try and be patient as I am going
to, for it was our fault, and we must not make a fuss now. Ain't mothers
sweet? Mine is coming over to-morrow to see you and tell me how you are.
This round thing is a kiss for good-night.
“Your Jack”
“Isn't that spoony? You'd better hide your face, I think. He's getting
to be a regular mollycoddle, isn't he?” jeered Joe, as the boys laughed,
and then grew sober, seeing Jack's head buried in the bedclothes, after
sending a pillow at his tormentor.
It nearly hit Mrs. Minot, coming in with her patient's tea on a tray,
and at sight of her the guests hurriedly took leave, Joe nearly tumbling
downstairs to escape from Frank, who would have followed, if his mother
had not said quickly, “Stay, and tell me what is the matter.”
“Only teasing Jack a bit. Don't be mad, old boy, Joe didn't mean any
harm, and it _was_ rather soft, now wasn't it?” asked Frank, trying to
appease the wounded feelings of his brother.
“I charged you not to worry him. Those boys were too much for the poor
dear, and I ought not to have left him,” said Mamma, as she vainly
endeavored to find and caress the yellow head burrowed so far out of
sight that nothing but one red ear was visible.
“He liked it, and we got on capitally till Joe roughed him about Jill.
Ah, Joe's getting it now! I thought Gus and Ed would do that little
job for me,” added Frank, running to the window as the sound of stifled
cries and laughter reached him.
The red ear heard also, and Jack popped up his head to ask, with
interest,--
“What are they doing to him?”
“Rolling him in the snow, and he's howling like fun.”
“Serves him right,” muttered Jack, with a frown. Then, as a wail arose
suggestive of an unpleasant mixture of snow in the mouth and thumps on
the back, he burst out laughing, and said, good-naturedly, “Go and stop
them, Frank; I won't mind, only tell him it was a mean trick. Hurry! Gus
is so strong he doesn't know how his pounding hurts.”
Off ran Frank, and Jack told his wrongs to his mother. She sympathized
heartily, and saw no harm in the affectionate little note, which would
please Jill, and help her to bear her trials patiently.
“It isn't silly to be fond of her, is it? She is so nice and funny, and
tries to be good, and likes me, and I won't be ashamed of my friends, if
folks do laugh,” protested Jack, with a rap of his teaspoon.
“No, dear, it is quite kind and proper, and I'd rather have you play
with a merry little girl than with rough boys till you are big enough
to hold your own,” answered Mamma, putting the cup to his lips that the
reclining lad might take his broma without spilling.
“Pooh! I don't mean that; I'm strong enough now to take care of myself,”
cried Jack, stoutly. “I can thrash Joe any day, if I like. Just look
at my arm; there's muscle for you!” and up went a sleeve, to the great
danger of overturning the tray, as the boy proudly displayed his biceps
and expanded his chest, both of which were very fine for a lad of his
years. “If I'd been on my legs, he wouldn't have dared to insult me, and
it was cowardly to hit a fellow when he was down.”
Mrs. Minot wanted to laugh at Jack's indignation, but the bell rang, and
she had to go and pull in the basket, much amused at the new game.
Burning to distinguish herself in the eyes of the big boys, Jill had
sent over a tall, red flannel night-cap, which she had been making for
some proposed Christmas plays, and added the following verse, for she
was considered a gifted rhymester at the game parties:--
“When it comes night,
We put out the light.
Some blow with a puff,
Some turn down and snuff;
But neat folks prefer
A nice extinguis_her_.
So here I send you back
One to put on Mr. Jack.”
“Now, I call that regularly smart; not one of us could do it, and I just
wish Joe was here to see it. I want to send once more, something good
for tea; she hates gruel so;” and the last despatch which the Great
International Telegraph carried that day was a baked apple and a warm
muffin, with “J. M.'s best regards.”