Early next morning Walter Hammond knocked at Mrs. Leslie's door.
"Could you come and look at Harry's knee?" he asked in rather a
frightened voice. "We think there is something wrong with it."
Mrs. Leslie lost no time, you may be sure. And here, sure enough, she
found poor Harry lying in excruciating pain, and with a great white
swelling on his knee, which her experienced eyes saw at once was no
ordinary bruise or sprain.
"My boy!" she cried, "why didn't you tell me sooner? If I had only
known!"
Harry could not help his tears flowing fast now. It had been such a long
strain upon him to keep up hour after hour, that it was quite a relief at
last to have the very worst fully confessed.
"I thought it would go off, mamma," he said, "or I would have told. And
I was so anxious to be well just now, for the sea; and oh, I can't move
one single step!"
"Don't cry, dear. We'll send for the doctor and see what he says. I
daresay he will make it better before long. And you mustn't fret, you
know, or you'll make yourself worse." So saying, Mrs. Leslie had the
nearest medical man sent for, and the little patient laid neatly and
comfortably in bed--as her skilful hands could well do.
Dr. Bell came, and pronounced poor Harry's a very grave case of what is
popularly known as "white swelling," brought on by the hurt he had
received, but chiefly owing to the little boy's very delicate system. "He
must lie quite still for some weeks at least," said the doctor. "There
must be no trying to get up or move about until I give permission."
Poor Harry! it was indeed a hard and bitter trial, and he did not then
know that he would yet be thankful one day for a lesson taught him by
this very trouble. But, indeed, we very seldom know such things till the
time of trial is long past.
Walter was removed to a sofa-bed in the parlour, so as to give Harry more
room and air, since the little attic must be his sole abode for long
weeks in all probability.
And so it proved. Harry lay there day after day, hardly daring even to
sit half up in bed for meals, and compelled to lie mostly on his back.
There stood the unfortunate ship _Rover_, whose piratical wanderings had
also been cruelly frustrated. It stood on a table just below the
skylight, so that Harry could see it easily where he lay; but now the
sight rather added to his vexation than otherwise. Would he ever be able
to sail it before they left Kingshaven and returned to Rosehampton? It
seemed very unlikely.
Their kind friend Dr. Hammond came down at once on hearing of Harry's
illness--which was of course a great comfort, as he knew so well about
his little patient; but he only confirmed Dr. Bell's verdict, and
declared Harry must continue in the quiet quarters of "Blanket Bay," as
his mother called it. The unfortunate thing of _this_ Blanket Bay was
that it did not look to the sea, nor indeed to anything but the sky.
The days passed wonderfully, however. Harry was fond of reading, and
plenty of nice books were got for him; the younger children were, of
course, perfectly happy digging houses and castles in the sand; and
Walter did the best he could to amuse himself companionless, or with any
boys who seemed friendly and ready to play with him. He did all he could
to amuse Harry, too, by coming home with stories of all he had seen, and
would sit for hours on the bedside chatting to him, if allowed; but Mrs.
Leslie said it was very wrong to waste his holidays that way, and
generally packed him off to the shore again.
Harry Leslie knew that to Walter as well as to himself it was a great
disappointment not to see the _Rover_ floated. He thought over it many a
time, and being a kind-hearted boy in general, it did vex him not a
little that Walter also should be disappointed. But the idea of his
telling Walter to take the _Rover_ down himself to the rocks, and have
the delight of seeing it ride proudly on the waves--oh, that was too much
for Harry! If the idea ever did really present itself plainly to his
mind as a thing that might be done--and I am not at all sure that it
did--then it was put aside at once as a plan quite ridiculous and not to
be encouraged. Harry had read of Sir Philip Sidney passing the cup of
water from his own parched lips to the dying-soldier who had still
greater need of it than himself, and he had thought it a grand and
beautiful action; but then it had never occurred to him that in his own
little common life--the every-day life of home and school, or it might be
sick-room--deeds of the _same kind of heroism_, though not by any means
so likely to be spoken of, were possible to and even required of him and
every one who wished to lead a brave and noble life.
It was not till nearly a fortnight had come and gone--half the time they
were to spend at Kingshaven--that some words of his father's set Harry
thinking of this very subject, and the thing struck him as it had never
done before.
Mr. Leslie had come down at the end of the week, as he always did, to
spend Sunday with his family, and to see how his little sick boy was
getting on. He stood looking at the _Rover_ for a little that Saturday
night, and then said before leaving the room,--
"By-the-by, you've never got your grand ship sailed yet. What will Uncle
Jack say when he hears of it? But let me see. Couldn't Watty there sail
it? It's a sort of pity he shouldn't have some pleasure out of it, isn't
it?"
"O papa!" cried Harry as if in pain.
"Why, what is it?" said his father, alarmed at the crimson colour rising
in his son's face. "Is the knee so painful, my man?"
"No, no, papa," said Harry, rather abashed; "I was thinking of what you
said. You know it is _my_ ship--my very own. How _could_ I let Walter
or any one else sail it, when I can't even look out and see it, you
know?"
Mr. Leslie was greatly surprised by this speech, but he was a
good-natured, easy-going man, as has been said, never liking to cross or
disappoint anybody if he could help it, and the sight of his poor little
Harry lying there perhaps weighed against his own better judgment.
"Ah! I see," he said. "You don't like it to go out of your own hands.
Well, you must just act 'dog in the manger' if you will, my boy. It is
for yourself to judge. I never meddle with other people's affairs,
whether about toys or big things! You shall do exactly as you like with
your boat, my boy; and I daresay it won't be so very long before you and
Walter will be able to go down to the beach together. By-the-by, did I
tell you I met Dr. Grierson, and he was asking most kindly for his little
scholar--quite sorry to hear of your being laid up, Harry? And the young
Melvilles are perhaps coming down to Kingshaven before long. You'll like
to see them again. Jack Lowford had a nasty fall off that bicycle of
his. He was coming down Grove Lane, where it is rather steep, you know,
and the thing went right over. Jack cut his head badly against the big
gray stone at Mr. Sheffard's gate, and had to be taken into the house and
doctored up a bit before he could go home. Very kind people these
Sheffards are, I must say.--But here comes Wat, who will give you news of
the beach more interesting than mine. So good-night, my boy, and see
that you sleep sound."