_THE SICK BABY._
One night the dear little baby was very sick. Bessie woke many times,
and as often as she did so, she found that nurse had not come to bed,
and when she looked through the open door which led into her mother's
room, she saw either her father or mother walking up and down with the
baby, trying to hush her pitiful cries and moans. In the morning the
doctor was sent for, and grandmamma came over to the cottage and stayed
all day; but the baby grew worse and worse. In the afternoon Maggie
and Bessie went into their mamma's room and stood by her side looking
at their little sister, who was lying on her lap. The baby seemed very
restless, and was moaning and throwing its arms about; suddenly it
threw back its head with a very strange look on its face, and clinched
its tiny hands. Mamma caught it in her arms, and she and grandmamma
called for nurse to bring warm water. Mrs. Jones came with it in a
minute, saying, "I had it all ready, for I thought it would be wanted."
Maggie ran away; she could not bear to see baby look and act so
strangely; but Bessie stayed till grandmamma sent her out of the room.
In a short time, Jane came to take the little girls to the beach. They
did not want to go, and begged her to let them stay at home; but she
said she could not keep Franky in the house all the afternoon, and she
thought their mamma would wish them to go out as usual; so they said no
more, and went with her, like the obedient children they were.
They found Colonel and Mrs. Rush down on the beach. Mrs. Rush talked to
Jane a little, and then said she would go up and see baby. She left the
little girls with the colonel, and he tried to amuse them; but although
he told them a very interesting story, they did not care about it half
as much as usual.
Mrs. Rush stayed a good while, and came back with a very grave face,
and when her husband asked, "How is the child?" she looked at him
without speaking; but Maggie and Bessie knew by this that the baby was
worse. Then Mrs. Rush asked them if they did not want to go to the
hotel and have tea with her and the colonel, but they said "No," they
wanted to go home.
When they went back to the house, Jane left the little girls sitting
on the door-step, while she took Franky in to give him his supper. It
was a very quiet, lovely evening. The sun had gone down, but it was
not dark yet. The sky was very blue, and a few soft gray clouds, with
pink edges, were floating over it. Down on the beach they could see
the people walking and driving about; but not a sound was to be heard
except the cool, pleasant dash of the waves, and Farmer Jones' low
whistle as he sat on the horse-block with Susie on his knee. Susie
sucked her fat thumb, and stared at the children. They sat there
without speaking, with their arms round each other's waists, wishing
they knew about the baby. Presently Mrs. Jones came down stairs and
called out over the children's heads, "Sam'l." Mr. Jones got up off the
horse-block and came towards them. "Here," said Mrs. Jones, handing
him a paper, "they want you to go right off to the station and send
up a telegraph for the city doctor. Here it is; Mr. Bradford writ it
himself, and he says you're to lose no time. 'Taint a mite of use
though, and it's just a senseless wastin' of your time."
"Not if they want it done," said Jones. "Why, Susan, s'pose everybody
hadn't done everything they could when we thought this one was going
to be took, wouldn't we have thought they was hard-hearted creeturs? I
aint done thanking the Almighty yet for leaving her to us, and I aint
the man to refuse nothing to them as is in like trouble,--not if it was
to ride all the way to York with the telegram."
"I'm sure I don't want you to refuse 'em," said Mrs. Jones,--"one can't
say no to them as has a dyin' child; but I do say it's no use. It will
all be over long before the doctor comes; all the doctors in York can't
save that poor little lamb. Anyhow, if I was Miss Bradford, I wouldn't
take on so; she's got plenty left."
"I'll do my part, anyhow," said the farmer, as he handed Susie to her
mother, and then hurried off to saddle his horse and ride away to the
station as fast as possible, while Mrs. Jones carried Susie off to the
kitchen.
"Maggie," whispered Bessie, "what does she mean?"
"The bad, hateful thing!" answered Maggie, with a sudden burst of
crying; "she means our baby is going to die. She wouldn't like any one
to say that of her Susie, and I don't believe it a bit. Bessie, I can't
bear her if she does make us cookies and turnovers. I like Mr. Jones a
great deal better, and I wish he didn't have Mrs. Jones at all. Mamma
wont have plenty left if our baby dies; six isn't a bit too many, and
she can't spare one of us, I know."
"But perhaps Jesus wants another little angel up in heaven," said
Bessie, "and so he's going to take our baby."
"Well, I wish he would take somebody else's baby," said Maggie.
"There's Mrs. Martin, she has thirteen children, and I should think she
could spare one very well; and there's a whole lot of little babies at
the Orphan Asylum, that haven't any fathers and mothers to be sorry
about them."
"Perhaps he thinks our baby is the sweetest," said Bessie.
"I know she is the sweetest," said Maggie, "but that's all the more
reason we want her ourselves. She is so little and so cunning; I think
she grows cunninger and cunninger every day. Day before yesterday she
laughed out loud when I was playing with her, and put her dear little
hands in my curls and pulled them, and I didn't mind it so very much if
she did pull so hard I had to squeal a little; and oh! I'd let her do
it again, if she would only get well. Don't you think, Bessie, if we
say a prayer, and ask Jesus to let us keep her, he will?"
"I think he will," said Bessie; "we'll try."
"Let us go into the sitting-room," said Maggie, "there is no one there."
"Oh! let us stay out here," answered Bessie, "there's such a beautiful
sky up there. Perhaps Jesus is just there looking at us, and maybe he
could hear us a little sooner out here. Nobody will see us."
They knelt down together by the seat on the porch. "You say it,
Bessie," said Maggie, who was still sobbing very hard. She laid her
head down on the bench, and Bessie put her hands together, and with
the tears running over her cheeks said, "Dear Jesus, please don't take
our darling little baby to be an angel just yet, if you can spare her.
She is so little and so sweet, and poor mamma will feel so sorry if
she goes away, and we will, too, and we want her so much. Please, dear
Jesus, let us keep her, and take some poor little baby that don't have
any one to love it, Amen."
They sat down again on the door-step till Harry and Fred came in.
"How is baby?" asked Harry.
"We don't know," said Maggie; "nobody came down this ever so long."
"Go up and see, Midget."
"Oh! I can't, Harry," said Maggie. "I don't want to see that strange
look on baby's face."
"Then you go, Bessie," said Harry; "my shoes make such a noise, and you
move just like a little mouse. You wont disturb them."
Bessie went up stairs and peeped in at the door of her mother's room.
There was no one there but papa and mamma and the baby. Papa was
walking up and down the room with his arms folded, looking very sad and
anxious, and mamma sat on a low chair with baby on her lap. The little
thing lay quiet now, with its eyes shut and its face so very, very
white. Mamma was almost as pale, and she did not move her eyes from
baby's face even when Bessie came softly up and stood beside her.
Bessie looked at her baby sister and then at her mother. Mamma's face
troubled her even more than the baby's did, and she felt as it she must
do something to comfort her. She laid her hand gently on her mother's
shoulder, and said, "Dear mamma, don't you want to have a little angel
of your own in heaven?" Mamma gave a start and put her arm farther
over the baby, as if she thought something was going to hurt it. Papa
stopped his walk and Bessie went on,--
"Maggie and I asked Jesus to spare her to us, if he could; but if he
wants her for himself, we ought not to mind very much; ought we? And
if you feel so bad about it 'cause she's so little and can't walk or
speak, I'll ask him to take me too, and then I can tell the big angels
just how you took care of her, and I'll help them. And then when you
come to heaven, you will have two little angels of your own waiting for
you. And we'll always be listening near the gate for you, dear mamma,
so that when you knock and call us, we'll be yeady to open it for you;
and if we don't come yight away, don't be frightened, but knock again,
for we'll only be a little way off, and we'll come just as fast as I
can bring baby; and she'll know you, for I'll never let her forget you.
And while you stay here, dear mamma, wont it make you very happy to
think you have two little children angels of your own, waiting for you
and loving you all the time?"[B]
Mamma had turned her eyes from the baby's face, and was watching her
darling Bessie as she stood there talking so earnestly yet so softly;
and now she put her arm around her and kissed her, while the tears ran
fast from her eyes and wet Bessie's cheeks.
"Please don't cry, mamma," said the little girl; "I did not mean to
make you cry. Shall I ask Jesus to take me, too, if he takes the baby?"
"No, no, my darling, ask him to leave you, that you may be your
mother's little comforter, and pray that he may spare your sister too."
"And if he cannot, mamma?"
"Then that he may teach us to say, 'Thy will be done,'" said her
father, coming close to them and laying his hand on Bessie's head. "He
knows what is best for us and for baby."
"Yes," said Bessie, "and I suppose if he takes her, he will carry her
in his arms just as he is carrying the lambs in the picture of the Good
Shepherd in our nursery. We need not be afraid he wont take good care
of her; need we, mamma?"
"No, darling," said Mrs. Bradford, "we need not fear to give her to his
care, and my Bessie has taught her mother a lesson."
"Did I, mamma?" said the little girl, wondering what her mother meant;
but before she could answer, grandmamma came in with the country
doctor.
Mr. Bradford took Bessie in his arms, and after holding her down to her
mother for another kiss, carried her from the room. When he had her out
in the entry, he kissed her himself many times, and whispered, as if he
was speaking to himself, "God bless and keep my angel child."
"Yes, papa," said Bessie, thinking he meant the baby, "and Maggie and I
will say another prayer about her to-night; and I keep thinking little
prayers about her all the time, and that's just the same, papa; isn't
it?"
"Yes, my darling," said her father; and then he put her down and stood
and watched her as she went down stairs.
It was not the will of our Father in heaven that the dear little baby
should die. Late in the night the doctor came from New York, and God
heard the prayers of the baby's father and mother and little sisters,
and blessed the means that were used to make it well; and before the
morning it was better, and fell into a sweet, quiet sleep.