IN THE “GARDEN OF EDEN”
After Sardis Merrifield’s visit Polly plunged into action with an
energy that called out comment from her associates. She took the
children on long drives until they had jaunted through nearly every
town within fifty miles. In company with those small people that could
walk she explored the near-by woods and fields and came home loaded
with all manner of trophies. With help from Dr. Abbe she fashioned
flower baskets and boxes in various shapes and sizes and filled them
with her wild treasures in their native soil. She designed rustic seats
under the trees, a wonderful sun arbor adjoining the side veranda, and
she superintended the carpenters while they carried out her plans.
“What in the world ails you?” queried Lilith. “If I didn’t know you so
well, I should say you were trying to work off something unpleasant.”
Polly laughed a queer little laugh, so queer that Lilith glanced across
the room--and then quickly turned back. Polly, brushing some litter
from the floor, was blushing furiously into the dustpan. Lilith’s mind
ran rapidly over the happenings of the past few days--and then she,
too, began to blush. But she did not see herself and so went on with
her thoughts. Polly and Dr. Abbe had been thrown together a good deal
of late--could there be anything--?
The White Nurse was calling her name, and she ran to answer.
That afternoon Lilith came upon Polly in the kitchen with Benedicta,
learning to make the small cocoanut cakes which were Dr. Abbe’s
especial delight. Then Lilith thought more thoughts, and without any
sensible reason went sadly the rest of the day.
The children had been begging for a picnic, so Lilith and the White
Nurse took them down the mountain to a place which Dolly Merrifield had
named the “Garden of Eden.” It was a pretty spot, set with pines and
birches, and fringed with bushes of various kinds, many of them now
hung with berries. Pine-needles formed a thick, slippery carpet, and
the sun filtered through the trees in an enchanting way.
A few hours later Dr. Abbe started for the picnic ground with two heavy
baskets, Polly and Benedicta following with some frosted cakes, that
the housekeeper would entrust to nobody else.
“Who is that girl talking with Lilith?” questioned Polly, halting at a
point where one first caught a view of the delectable “garden.”
Benedicta came up and narrowed her eyes to focus them on the stranger.
“Huh!” she ejaculated, “what’s that kid doin’ round here! Say, I
must--” Her voice trailed off inaudibly as, setting down her basket,
she turned and hurried back on the road she had come.
“Why--!” began Polly; but the housekeeper was beyond a conversational
tone, and Polly after a moment’s wait went on down the road.
Arrived at her destination she crossed over to Lilith and the child
whom she had seen.
The little girl was speaking, but paused with a touch of shyness when
Polly came up.
“Miss Dudley will give you more information than I can,” said Lilith.
Then, turning to Polly, “This little girl has been telling me about her
sister who has never walked.”
Polly was interested at once and cordially held out her hand. “I should
like to hear about her,” she said.
“My Sunday-School class is up here on a picnic,” the child explained,
“over the knoll there; and I and another girl were just walking round,
and we heard your children, so we came nearer to find out. I wanted to
come to see you before, but grandfather wouldn’t let me. I wondered
if you were going to make them walk”--pointing to Grissel and Little
Duke--“and I couldn’t help asking.” The girl’s face was eager and
anxious.
“Let’s sit down in the shade and talk it over.” Polly put her arm
around the slim shoulders and drew the child to the farther end of the
“garden,” quite out of hearing of the wheel-chairs.
“Has your little sister never walked at all?” was asked, as they sat
down on a big log.
“Not a single step!” answered the child with emphasis; “and it does
seem too bad, she is so beautiful. I never saw anybody so handsome
in all my life, unless it was my mother. I can’t remember much about
mother; but grandfather says she was beautiful, like Rosalind. He says
that grandmother used to be just as lovely as that, too. I think she’s
pretty now.”
“Do you live with your grandfather?”
“Yes, ma’am, since father died--there’s just Rosalind and me.”
“I shall have to go to see this dear little Rosalind,” smiled Polly,
her arm tightening around the child.
“Oh, no!” was the unexpected reply, “grandfather wouldn’t like it--you
mustn’t! Maybe I can draw Rosalind up here in her cart. I’ll try some
day, if you’d like to see her.”
“Surely I wish to see her; but I cannot understand what your
grandfather has against me.”
“Oh, nothing! Indeed, nothing at all! It is only--but I mustn’t talk
about it! He doesn’t wish me to.” The little girl shut her lips with
a finality that made Polly wonder. She shifted from grandfather to
grandchild.
“I suppose you don’t know the cause of the trouble with your sister--”
She paused.
“Oh, yes, ma’am! Grandmother says it was the poor milk that we had
when we lived in Stockville. Rosalind was just as healthy and strong
as any baby until she began to drink that milk; but they didn’t know
it then, and so we kept on living there. Grandmother says I began to
be sick, too, and mother. They found out afterwards that the peddler
put formaldehyde in it, and that poisoned her. Finally Rosalind got so
bad--and didn’t walk at all when she ought to--that father woke up,
grandmother says, and took her to the doctor; but nobody thought of the
milk, and it wasn’t for a good while that they found out. Then it was
too late. She had the rickets, you see, and after mother died father
brought us up here. Then pretty soon he died, and we’ve been here ever
since. Rosalind has had seven doctors, and grandmother and grandfather
have got discouraged.”
“I suppose it was malnutrition,” thought Polly aloud.
“Yes,” responded the child, “that’s what it was--I remember,
grandmother said so. Do you suppose you could cure her?” She went on,
her eyes fixed on Polly’s face, hungry for a bit of hope.
“I can do nothing, dear; my father has done wonderful things; but
I don’t know about this. He is coming up here soon, and if your
grandfather will allow it, we will try to arrange for him to see your
sister.”
“Oh, I’ll bring her up here!” cried the child. “I’ll bring her up if it
takes all day! Oh, if he could only make her walk! I’d do anything for
him if he would!”
“You may tell your grandfather what I say, that I am sure father will
see her if he wishes it. He would know whether she can be helped. I am
not wise enough to be able to say anything about it.”
The little girl shook her head sadly. “Grandfather wouldn’t like it if
he knew I had come to see you,” she said. “I don’t dare tell him; but
I’ll bring Rosalind up any time you say. She’s my sister, and I can do
what I like. Benedicta Clapperton hasn’t anything to do with it!” A
bitter shadow crossed the child’s face.
Polly looked at her, surprised and questioning.
“I mustn’t talk about her,” said the little girl, as if she had been
asked to do so. “Grandfather said for me not to. But couldn’t I bring
Rosalind up to see you without--without your housekeeper’s knowing it?”
“Perhaps,” answered Polly. “Yet I think that father would have to see
your grandfather or grandmother before he examined your sister.”
“Then Rosalind can’t--ever walk,” wailed the little one softly, putting
her arm across her eyes to hide her tears.
“Oh, my dear!” cried Polly soothingly, “I think we can arrange it some
way.”
“No--we ca-n’t!” she sobbed. “Grandfather wouldn’t ever take Rosalind
to where--Benedicta Clapperton is--I know he wouldn’t!”
“Now, don’t you worry one bit about it,” comforted Polly, drawing the
child to nestle within the circle of her arm. “It will all come out
right--you see if it doesn’t.”
“I’m afraid,” the little girl confessed.
“Don’t be afraid. We won’t let Benedicta or anybody else stand in the
way of your sister’s walking, if it is possible to effect a cure.”
The child drew a long breath. “You are good,” she said, “awful good;
but you don’t know grandfather. He hates--oh, I mustn’t talk about it!
What would he say if he knew! I must go now--they will think I’m lost.
Bessie is waiting for me somewhere--I forgot all about them!”
“And you will bring Rosalind to see me?”
“Yes, I want you to see her, she is so beautiful!”
“If you will let me know when you can come, I will meet you at the foot
of the mountain and bring you up in my car.”
“But she drives it, don’t she? I saw her that day when she ran into
that other car down in Overlook.”
“I shall drive the car myself when I come to meet you.”
“Oh, then I’d like it!” the child said eagerly. “And I can bring her
to-morrow, if it doesn’t rain.”
“And your name?” asked Polly. “I ought to know it, in case something
should occur so that I couldn’t come.”
“It isn’t a pretty one like Rosalind. I was named for father and mother
both. I hate it! It is Oscarlucy--Ferne.”
“That isn’t a bad name,” smiled Polly reassuringly. “Ferne is lovely. I
will write it down as soon as I get home.”
Polly and Lilith conjectured as to the possible connection between
Benedicta and the family of Oscarlucy Ferne; but they came to no
definite conclusion.
At half-past five o’clock the sandwiches and cakes were served and
eaten; but Benedicta did not appear until going-home time. That she had
returned earlier as far as the big birch-tree was affirmed by Grissel,
whose sharp eyes had spied her peering between the branches. The picnic
seemed to have missed something through the housekeeper’s absence.