To the Borderland and Back
Christmas morning at Wistaria Cottage was a very merry one.
Long before light the children were examining their Christmas
stockings, which were bulging with all kinds of presents from every
one. Of course Noel's was the biggest; and there beside his bed was
a bicycle, just like Chris's, only smaller. He was in transports of
delight, and tried to get on it and go up and down the passage, but
Nurse quickly put a stop to that. They all trooped down to their
mother's room in their dressing-gowns and presented her with a
beautiful picture representing the Manger at Bethlehem.
"It's from all three of us," said Chris. "We thought you'd like to hang
it up over your bed."
And Mrs. Inglefield said she would love to do that, and that they could
not have given her anything which she would have liked better.
Then they were called away by Nurse, and dressing and breakfast
followed.
They all went to church, Noel much interested in the branch of his
tree, which formed the centre of a group of evergreens on the front
panel of the pulpit. When they came out he said to his mother:
"I'm sure Jesus must be enjoying His birfday, isn't He, Mums? And Nurse
told me every church all over the world has music and singing and
decorations to-day, and it's all for Him."
Mrs. Inglefield squeezed the little hand in hers.
"Yes, Noel, and what will please our Saviour most will be the grateful
thanks and hearts of His people everywhere."
Before they sat down to the Christmas dinner, Noel had coaxed his
mother to let him go into the drawing-room to see his tree. She let him
go and he remained there for quite a quarter of an hour. He looked a
little happier when he came out. It was the only shadow so far on his
birthday, the thought that the glory of his tree was over.
"I fink he'll be comf'able when he gets back into my garden," he said
to his mother. "He won't be up in the garret with the mice like Hans's
tree."
"You must look forward to having him another Christmas," his mother
said cheerfully.
In the afternoon they went to the Carol Service. Noel had never heard
carols before, and when they sang:
"Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel."
He thought they were singing it to him.
Coming home afterwards, Chris and Diana soon undeceived him.
"They did sing a hymn about me," Noel said obstinately.
"It means Christmas; Noel is the French for Christmas, isn't it, Mums?"
said Diana.
"You always think that everybody is thinking about you," Chris said.
"Hush, Chris! Remember it is Noel's birthday. Be kind."
And then Mrs. Inglefield explained that carols were very ancient, and
that many words that were spoken at that time have now entirely been
changed or forgotten.
Noel was a little crestfallen.
"I thought they might know it was my birfday," he said.
Chris and Diana laughed at him, but said no more.
They were all going to have tea downstairs with their mother. Noel was
having his hair brushed and his hands and face washed by Nurse when he
heard Chris laughing rather loudly in the hall.
He rushed out to the stairs and hung his head and shoulders over the
banister rail to see what was going on.
It was only the vicar's dog who had accidentally found his way in, but
he was dressed in a paper cap, and though he turned his head from side
to side he could not get it off.
There was holly on the stair-rail and it pricked Noel; he leant over
farther to get away from it, and then to the horror of Nurse, who had
followed him out, she saw him over balance himself, and with a sudden
awful thud, his little figure fell, his head striking the tiled floor
of the hall with awful force.
Chris uttered a horrified cry which brought his mother out of her room.
She was the first to reach her darling, and raised him in her arms;
but he lay still and unconscious. It had been so swift, so sudden an
accident, that he had not had time to utter a cry.
The little household gathered round him.
"He is killed!" cried Diana and Chris together.
"No—no—stunned!" said Mrs. Inglefield in her agony, still striving to
allay the fears of her children.
Then she turned to Chris:
"Fetch the doctor. Go on your bicycle. Nurse, come with me."
Diana watched the limp, unconscious form of her small brother being
carried upstairs. Mrs. Tubbs followed Nurse; Cassy put her apron up to
her eyes and began to cry.
"Oh, Miss Diana, 'tis his birthday; what an end to it!"
Diana seemed turned to stone.
How and why did these things happen? They were all so happy a few
minutes ago, and now Noel was perhaps dead and would never speak or
laugh again.
She went slowly into the dining-room. The tea was all laid upon the
table, the silver kettle boiling over the methylated lamp. They would
have all been sitting round the table now, mother would be pouring out
the tea, Noel's cake would have delighted him. It was a surprise—made
by Mrs. Tubbs, who had put her very best work into it. It was a big
iced cake, and had seven candles upon it. In the centre was a tiny
little Christmas tree—a copy of Noel's. Its leaves and branches were
frosted with sugar and a robin perched on the topmost branch. In pink
letters on the white surface was written:
"Noel Inglefield. Happy Returns of his Birthday,
and best Christmas Wishes."
As Diana gazed at the cake, tears crowded into her eyes.
Noel's cake! And he might never see it!
There were crackers round the table. What fun they would have had!
There were jam sandwiches and sugarcoated biscuits, and coco-nut cakes
and shortbread.
Who would enjoy the tea now, when Noel lay dead or dying upstairs?
"Oh, it's awful! awful!" she cried, "worse than anything I have ever
thought of or made up for my stories! And I've spoken so crossly to him
to-day, even though it was his birthday! Oh, what shall we do! What
shall we do!"
When Chris returned he found Diana pacing the hall like a demented
person.
The doctor followed on his heels, and with two or three strides had
mounted the stairs and gone into the nursery.
"Oh, Chris," said Diana with tearful eyes, "what shall we do? I believe
he is quite dead already."
"He can't be," said Chris. "Wasn't it awful seeing him fall! I've been
thinking the whole way along to the doctor's and back, of my cross
words to him about the carol. We haven't been kind to him, Dinah—over
and over again we haven't! And we can't ask him to forgive us. And it's
his birthday. Do you think we could pray to God? Noel gets all his
prayers answered, he says."
"He's so fond of God," moaned Diana; "perhaps God is very fond of him
and wants him in heaven. I wish mother would come to us."
But it was a long while before their mother came, and when she did, all
the glow and brightness of her face had vanished. She and the doctor
went into her boudoir and talked a little, and then he went away,
saying:
"I'll be up the first thing in the morning, but there's nothing more
can be done."
Then Chris and Diana crept up to their mother.
"Is he dead, Mums?" Chris whispered.
Mrs. Inglefield looked at them sorrowfully.
"He is very, very ill, dear. It is bad concussion of the brain, and
he may be unconscious for a long time. We must ask God to spare his
precious little life."
A choke came in her voice, then she seemed to pull herself together.
"We must have some tea. Nurse is watching by him, and I will go and
relieve her soon. Come along."
That was a most miserable meal for both mother and children.
Noel's chair opposite his cake was empty. His cheerful little voice,
which was always making itself heard, was hushed and silent now. Would
they ever hear it again, his mother wondered?
And at last in desperation Chris spoke out his thoughts:
"Why has God let it happen on his birthday and on Christmas night,
Mums? Any other time it wouldn't have been so bad."
"Be quiet," said Diana in a whisper, giving him an angry nudge. "You'll
only make Mums more miserable."
Mrs. Inglefield caught the whisper.
"No, he won't, dear. God loves Noel better than any of us. He has sent
this trouble to us for some good reason. We must never question God's
will."
The children were silent. They were glad when tea was over, but when
their mother left them to return to the sickroom, they wandered about
the house, not knowing what to do with themselves. Nurse came down at
last, and told them that they must keep out of the nursery, as Noel
must be kept as quiet as possible.
"I should go to bed early if I were you," she told them. "Perhaps your
little brother will be better to-morrow morning."
"I know why God has let this accident happen," said Diana to Chris when
Nurse had left them, and they had gone into their mother's boudoir,
and sitting down on two chairs near the fire had faced each other in
despairing silence; "it is to punish us. We haven't been good to him.
We haven't loved him, and now God is going to take him away from us."
"We'll miss him horribly if he dies," said Chris. "I wouldn't let him
ride my bicycle the day before yesterday."
"And I pushed him out of the nursery when I was writing," said Diana;
"and told him he was a horrid little bother."
These torturing memories went with them when they went to bed.
For the first time their mother failed to come and wish them good
night. Nurse was having her supper, and Mrs. Inglefield could not leave
Noel.
But she did not forget them; only later on, when she did come, they had
both forgotten their regrets, and remorse, in sleep.
The following days were very sad. Noel lay unconscious for two days
and two nights; and then when he was able to eat, and take notice, his
memory seemed to have left him. The house had to be kept very quiet,
and for days his life seemed to hang upon a thread.
It was astonishing how many friends the little fellow had. The back
door was besieged by the villagers during the first few days of his
illness. Foster took the Christmas tree out of the drawing-room and
planted it in its old bed, but as he did so he was heard murmuring to
himself:
"We'll never see his like again. He were too near heaven for a little
chap like him!"
Mr. Wargrave, Miss Constance, Ted and Inez, all tried in turns to
comfort and amuse poor Chris and Diana.
As the days went on they began to hope, and when at last the doctor
said that Noel was going to pull through, they cheered up and began to
smile once more.
But they were not allowed to see him. Mrs. Inglefield looked worn to a
shadow; it was heart-breaking to her to see her busy chattering little
son lying in listless apathy on his bed, only moving his head to and
fro, and hardly recognizing his own mother.
Chris had to return to school before Noel was convalescent. Just before
he went his mother let him come in and see the little patient. Chris
could hardly believe that the tiny pinched face with the big restless
eyes belonged to rosy, sturdy Noel.
He stooped over and kissed him very gently, and called him by name; but
Noel took no notice, only moved his head restlessly from side to side.
And Chris went out of the room fighting with his tears. The very next
day Diana said to her mother:
"Will Noel never get better, Mums? God isn't answering our prayers. I
pray ever so many times in the day about him."
"Oh," cried her mother in anguish of tone, "don't pray too hard,
darling, that we may keep him here. God knows best. For his sake I dare
not pray too earnestly for his recovery."
Diana could not understand this until she talked to Mrs. Tubbs in the
kitchen about it.
"Bless your heart, missy, your poor mother is afraid he'll never get
his senses again. Some is left idiots after such a blow in the head.
And Master Noel knows nobody yet, and p'r'aps never will."
This was a fresh horror to Diana. It was a good thing for her when Miss
Morgan returned and lessons began again.
But at last steady improvement set in, and Mrs. Inglefield went about
with the light again in her eyes and a smile upon her lips.
Inez came to wish Diana good-bye upon the day when the doctor was
for the first time hopeful. She was going to school, and had been
dreadfully distressed about Noel.
"I liked him the best of you," she said; "he was always so funny and so
naughty, and yet so very good. And he talked like an angel. He's taught
me more than anybody else, and I'm going to school with quite a good
character."
"I'll write to you, Inez, and tell you about him," said Diana, "and
perhaps you'll like me to send you a bit of my new story sometimes."
"I should love it."
They parted. Diana felt very lonely; she had never imagined that she
would miss Noel so very much.
And then one Saturday when Chris was home, he and she went upstairs
together to sit for a short time with the little invalid.
He was decidedly better, his eyes were dear and bright, and he was able
to talk a little, though his voice was husky and weak. He smiled when
he saw them.
"I've been very ill," he announced to them.
"Yes," said Diana, "we've missed you dreadfully, Noel. It will be nice
when you're quite well again."
"I b'lieve," said Noel in his old slow way, "that I've been away to
heaven, only I can't remember. I know I haven't been here all the time."
Chris stooped over him:
"We'll never be cross to you again, Noel, never."
Noel looked at him, then asked gravely:
"Do you love me now?"
And Chris and Diana both cried out with all their hearts:
"Indeed we do. We'll always love you."
Noel smiled contentedly. Then after a pause he said: "Then will you be
kind to my Chris'mas tree? Will you give him some water and take care
of him?"
"I'll water him every day," Diana rashly promised.
The interview was over; but Noel began to recover rapidly. It was a
happy day when he was downstairs again: and the first thing he did was
to totter out into the garden, and make his way to his beloved fir tree.
It stood there, looking rather bedraggled, and showing a great gap
where the branch had been cut off.
Noel was distressed at first, and then Chris, who was with him, said:
"He is like a soldier who has lost his arm in fighting for his King."
Noel's whole face brightened as he said:
"And he gave his branch to God for Jesus' birfday." He was comforted.
That same day, Bessie Sharpe came up to tell Mrs. Inglefield that her
father had quietly passed away.
"He were always talking of Master Noel. The last thing he said was,
'Tell Master Noel when he's well enough to hear it, that my time of
waiting is over and I'm going like his Christmas tree, to be taken in
for my Master's glory.'"
This message was given to Noel. He quite understood it.
"And Mr. Sharpe will be covered with glory," he said. "Everybody who
goes to heaven will be like Christmas trees lighted up. I almost wish I
had wented there."
But Chris and Diana had cried out together:
"We want you here."
And their mother looked at them with a smile upon her face and deep
thankfulness in her heart. She knew now what had been the purpose in
Noel's accident and illness. It was to bring the brothers and sister
closer together, and to bind them in a strong chain of love and
understanding that would not break under any provocation.
And Noel cried out:
"And I want to be here, for I love you all, specially—my dear Christmas
tree."