HOW MERLE JUMPED FROM A TRAM.
Merle was waiting at the street corner for a tram. It was the day
before they were to sail for Melbourne, and she had been to say
good-bye to her grandmother; the distance was not great, and she was
allowed to make the little trip to and from the hotel by herself. She
was impatient, for she was to go on to the hospital to see Dick; and
the only part of Merle's day worth consideration to her was the part
she spent in being "legs" to the boy. She looked up the long road,
fidgeting and frowning to see no tram in sight.
Two men came strolling along and stopped near her, also glancing up the
tram track. They went on chatting, without noticing the small figure
by the lamp post.
"----won't be out here long," one said, completing a sentence. "No,
he's not coming out to practise; just on a visit to Melbourne to see
his mother. He's been away four years, and she is getting old."
"He was always a very devoted son, wasn't he?" the other said.
"Yes, very. My brother died when the boy was at school, and he's been
everything to his mother. Of course he would have done remarkably well
in the ordinary course of things; he had a big practice before he went
to Germany. But his mother was as keen as he was about his becoming a
specialist, and he has always been determined to keep himself abreast
of the latest discoveries in spinal treatment."
"The spine was always Neil's pet subject."
"Yes--he used to say there ought to be another big war, because then
surgeons had a chance of finding out things they would never find in
ordinary practice. True enough, too. Anyhow, he has been at extended
research work in America and Germany these four years, and when he
finally comes out he will practise only as a spine specialist. That
won't be for another two years, however; this is only a flying visit,
as I said."
The word "spine" had caught Merle's idle ears, and she was listening,
with parted lips, her breath coming quickly.
"There's the tram," the first man said. "Lunch with us at the club
to-morrow, won't you, Onslow? I'd like you to meet my nephew again.
The _Occident_ gets in in the morning, and I'm going to run down in the
car to meet him, and bring him up for the day."
"Thanks, I'll be delighted," his friend said. He nodded good-bye as
the tram rattled up. The first man stood aside courteously to let
Merle in, and then sat down in a seat across the aisle. The tram
banged its way down the hill.
The conductor said, "Fares, please!" three times, each with mounting
impatience, before Merle realised that he was speaking to her. Then
she took out her purse and paid him mechanically, with an air so
distracted that the conductor reported later to the motorman that there
was a kid back there quite cracked.
Her heart was thumping furiously. Someone was on the
_Occident_--someone who knew all about spines--who might cure Dick!
Someone who would not practise; but if he only saw Dick, he might
relent. She did not think anyone could possibly see Dick and not
relent. Anyway, if he were asked. And then she realised with a kind
of horror that she did not know his name.
She looked across the aisle at the man who had talked about his nephew.
He was kind-looking, she thought; short and plump, with a grey beard
and nice eyes. He surely would not mind being asked. But to speak to
a stranger was a stupendous task to Merle, who found it difficult
enough to speak to anyone she knew quite well. The very thought was
enough to make her trembling and tongue-tied. Perhaps, if he got off
when she did. And just then she looked again, and almost cried aloud
in her dismay. The tram had stopped, unnoticed by her, and the man had
got off and was walking briskly up a side street.
The conductor's bell had rung, and the tram was already under way as
she started up, springing to the side. A woman caught at her dress
with an alarmed exclamation; from his end of the car the conductor
uttered an angry shout of warning; but Merle did not heed them. She
swung herself to the roadway, spinning round as she alighted, and
finally falling heavily. The tram was stopped, people were shouting.
Her one thought was to get away. She scrambled to her feet, brushing
the dust from her dress, and, bruised but determined, raced up the side
street.
"It's the cracked kid," reported the conductor gloomily, ringing his
car on again. "Wonder why they let her out without a keeper. That's
the sort as makes us chaps get bad marks on our tickets!" He stared
wrathfully after Merle as long as she was in sight.
The stout gentleman heard running feet behind him, but he was in a
hurry, and did not turn until a breathless voice addressed him.
"Oh, please!" Merle panted.
"Bless my soul!" said the man, looking at the dishevelled figure. "Are
you hurt? What's the matter?"
"You were talking," Merle choked--and then took a long breath--"about a
man on the _Occident_--somebody who knows all about the spine."
"Well--if I was?" said the amazed Westralian.
"Oh, please, would you tell me his name?"
"Why on earth----?"
Merle cut him short.
"Oh, tell me! There's a boy going on the _Occident_ with a hurt
spine--he might look at him! It wouldn't hurt you."
"Well----" began the man, staring at her. "My nephew won't practise,
if that's what you mean. But his name is Neil Fraser, if you must
know. Better not tell him I told you, for he's on a holiday, and
doesn't want to think about spines!"
"He couldn't help it if he knew Dick!" said Merle solemnly. "Thanks,
very much." She turned. "I must go and catch another tram."
"I think you had better let me brush you down a bit first," said the
Westralian, suiting the action to the word. "I've got daughters
myself, and if your mother sees the state your frock is in----!"
Merle submitted to his ministrations more or less gratefully. At the
moment it would not have mattered to her if she had no frock at all.
She was seething with excited hope. Each night she prayed blindly,
desperately, to some God she did not in the least realise that He would
make Dick well--that He would let her work out her wickedness by taking
Dick's pain, if He only could. Perhaps God was really there, after
all--perhaps He really meant to help! She said good-bye to the
fatherly Westerner, and managed to get back to the hotel--how, she
never knew. A great thought had come to her. She had heard of cases
of skin-graft--taking skin from a sound person to heal another's wound.
Perhaps this wonderful new man could take a piece of her spine and put
it into Dick's. She knelt down by her bed, and prayed wildly to God
that He would arrange it.
"It doesn't matter what becomes of me," she said. "Daddy has two sons,
and I'm only a girl--and they've only Dick. And it's all my fault. If
you can fix it so's he'll be able to walk soon, before he gets any
discourageder, I don't care what you do to me. Oh, God, won't you let
this Fraser man know all about spines like Dick's!" It was a queer
prayer; but who shall say that it did not go straight upwards?
The burden of Merle's secret was heavy upon her as she climbed the
gangway of the _Occident_ next day. She had not dared to speak to
anyone, in a childish fear of being ridiculed; and the temptation to
speak to Dick was so strong that in resisting it she became entirely
silent, until Dick grew worried, and said finally, "Look here, Legs,
old girl, are you really sure you want to come?"
"Want to come?" She looked at him in a dazed way. "Oh, I never wanted
anything so much in my life! You don't want to leave me behind, do
you?"
"Rather not!" Dick said, relieved. "You're jolly good to me, you know,
old Legs! Only I thought you were a bit down in the mouth at leaving
your father. Sure you're not?"
She shook her head emphatically.
"No. He wants me to go with you. You can send me back any time, you
know, to Grannie. But even if you send me back at once, I want to go
on the _Occident_."
Dick, being a gentleman, was indignant.
"You make me feel like a perfect beast!" he said warmly. "I don't want
to send you back at all--and I wish you wouldn't talk as if you were a
beastly parcel! You're coming up to Kurrajong with us, and you'll have
to ride Tinker for me until I can ride him myself."
Until he could ride himself! The words were in her ears as she climbed
the gangway, up which two sailors had carried Dick's stretcher
carefully a moment before. She went to the side of the ship, scanning
the faces of the passengers as they came along the pier, wondering
which could be "Neil Fraser," and hoping that any man with a specially
kind face would be he. The time passed, and the cry of "Visitors
ashore!" startled her. Then she heard her father's voice behind her.
"That you, Merle? I'm going." His big face was sadder than she had
ever seen it, and he kissed her gently. She flushed; he had not often
kissed her since Dick's accident. "Be a good girl, and do all you
possibly can for that poor boy. Remember, none of us can ever make up
what we have cost him. If--if you see anything he would like, buy it
for him--you can have all the money you want." He half turned, and she
heard him say miserably under his breath, "If one were not so
helpless!" Then he put his hand on her shoulder. "It's
something--just a little--if you can be legs for him. Don't spare
yourself."
"I won't," she said. "Oh, I won't, daddy!"
He kissed her again, and went down the gangway. She watched his huge
form threading its way along the pier. His head was bent down, and he
did not look back again.
Dick did not leave his cabin that evening. He was tired with the
excitement of starting, and was, moreover, developing an invalid's
dread of being stared at. The nurses kept him very quiet; even Merle
was not allowed inside the cabin, and she wandered about miserably,
handicapped by her shyness, and wondering how, in the crowded mail
steamer, she was ever going to find a man she did not know. She went
to bed with the problem still unsolved, slept badly, and got up early
in the morning, dressing as noiselessly as possible in order not to
disturb the nurse whose cabin she shared. In the alleyway she met a
steward, and a sudden thought came to her.
"Steward," she said, "do you know which is Mr. Fraser's cabin?"
"Not in my lot," said the steward carelessly. "You don't know 'is
number, by any chance?"
"No."
"Well, I dunno. Ask some of the other stewards--or the purser'd tell
you, of course."
Merle's courage was fast oozing away; to tackle the purser, a
mysterious and terrible individual of great power, was a task beyond
her. She dived into her pocket and produced a bright half-crown.
"You find out for me," she said, proffering the coin, which the steward
pocketed with an adroitness born of long habit. "It's very important;
I've got to know soon. I'll come down after breakfast, and you tell me
and I'll give you another."
"Right-oh!" said the steward, with a new respect for a small girl who
could distribute half-crowns with such large ease. "I'll 'ave 'is
number ready for you, miss."
Dick was better; a good night had made him inclined for breakfast, and
he was longing to get out into the fresh air, even if people did look
at him. He kept Merle busy, running errands and telling him all about
the passengers; and it was not until the nurses were ready to prepare
him for going out that she was able to slip away and hurry down to her
own cabin.
The steward met her, rather aggrieved.
"Nice little jig-saw puzzle you set me, miss!" he said. "Mr. Fraser,
you says; well, there's seven Frasers on board! Now which is it?"
Merle's face fell.
"Seven!" she exclaimed. "How will I ever--oh, but, of course, his
name's Neil!"
"Ah, that's something like," said the steward, cheering up. He
consulted a paper in his hand. "Neil--that's N. Well, there's two N.
Frasers, apparently, miss; N. F. Fraser in 352, and N. H. Fraser in
279. Now, which is your mark, I wonder?"
"I don't know," Merle said hopelessly. "Couldn't you find out for me?"
A sudden cry of "Smithers!" smote upon the ear of the steward.
"That's me," he said hurriedly. "'Fraid I'll 'ave to go, miss--that's
my chief 'owlin'. You won't 'ave any difficulty in findin' your
man--just try each in turn." He put the paper into her hand, and
almost mechanically Merle parted with her second half-crown, and
watched him rush off in response to another call.
Merle stood looking at the paper for a helpless moment. To track these
mysterious Frasers to their lairs seemed a task beyond her courage.
Still, there was nothing to be gained by putting it off--and the sooner
she set about finding her man, the sooner would her suspense about Dick
be relieved. So she set her lips firmly and went off along the
alleyways, hunting for one of the numbers she wanted.
She found one presently--279. No one was about, and she knocked at the
door timidly. There was no response at first; but presently awful
sounds arose, and Merle realised with a shudder of horror that the
inmate of 279 was extremely seasick!
She took to her heels, rushing wildly along the corridor until she
considered herself at a safe distance--scarcely realising that nothing
was further than pursuit from the mind of the unfortunate 279. Then
she stopped to consider the position; what she should do if the
terrible man she had heard was indeed the object of her quest; what,
if, as might well be, 352 was in no better case. There seemed nothing
to be gained by standing still, however, so she wandered up companions
and along alleyways until she found herself confronting the second
cabin on her list.
The door was shut, and she stood trying to summon up her courage to
knock; and feeling the said courage rapidly oozing from her. But
before she had time to make up her mind, the door opened suddenly, and
a man came out, so quickly that he nearly knocked her over.
"I beg your pardon!" he said, stepping back. "I didn't know anyone was
there." He looked mildly surprised; but his voice was pleasant and his
clean-shaven face was so keen and alert, and his eyes were so kindly,
that Merle was suddenly no longer afraid. "Did you knock?" he went on.
"Were you looking for anyone?"
"I'm looking for someone called Neil Fraser," Merle stammered. "I do
hope you're him!"
"Well--I am!" he said, and laughed. "Why did you want me?"
Twice she tried to speak, and could not. He saw the struggle in her
face and patted her shoulder. "Is anything wrong?" he asked. "I am a
doctor--can I help you? Come in and tell me."
He drew her into the cabin. Merle made a tremendous effort, and her
words came with a rush.
"I know all about you," she said. "You've been all over the world
finding out all about spines, and now you've got to cure Dick's!"
"Dick's?" he said. "What's wrong with Dick's?"
"It's all wrong--broken or something. I don't know what. It's all my
fault, anyhow; cause I went out and the blacks nearly got me, only Dick
came after me--and they speared him, and he fell off Conqueror when he
was galloping, and lobbed on some rocks, and now they say he'll never
walk again. And he must walk--you don't know how splendid he is! He's
only thirteen, and you couldn't let a boy like that be a cripple all
his life if you could cure him!"
Suddenly she went down on her knees before him, catching at his hand.
"Can't you do what they do with skin when they graft it?" she prayed.
"Can't you take a bit of my spine? You can have every bit of it, if
it'll make Dick's all right. I know it's quite a good spine, if you'll
only use it!"
If he wanted to laugh he did not show it. He pulled her to her feet
gently.
"I can't do that," he said; "we're not clever enough yet. But I'll do
what I can, though, of course, I can't promise to cure him. Tell me
more about Dick. Where is he?"
"He's on the ship. We came on yesterday. His father and mother--and
two nurses, and me. He's in a deck cabin; I'll take you to see him if
you'll come; he'll be out on deck now."
"How long is it since he was hurt?"
"Over two months. It was up on our station. They got Dr. Brereton
from Perth up to him first, and then they took him to Perth in an
ambulance Now they're taking him to Melbourne, and they'll take him all
over the world to try and get him cured. And--" her voice broke into
sobs, and tears ran down her face--"he doesn't know they say he'll
always be a cripple. He lies so still, but he's always planning for
when he's going to get up and ride again."
"Poor lad!" said Dr. Fraser. "And are you his sister?"
"Me?" said Merle. "No; I'm just his legs!"
"Are you?" he said, and laughed for the first time. "Well, you're a
plucky little girl, anyhow. Shall we come up and see Dick?"
They went up together. Dick was lying in the shade of a deck house, a
nurse beside him. He opened his eyes as Merle came up, and grinned at
her.
"Hullo, old Legs!" he said. "Where have you been? I've been out ever
so long."
"Oh, just about," said Merle vaguely. "Dick this is--er--Neil Fraser."
She flushed scarlet, conscious of the peculiar nature of the
introduction.
Dr. Fraser sat down near the stretcher, apparently unconscious of
anything unusual. Dick had shrunk into his shell at the idea of
speaking to a stranger, but this man proved to be a very decent sort of
person, with no tactless ways of looking at a fellow's stretcher, or of
making silly inquiries as to how long a fellow had been ill. He
chatted away, in a low pleasant voice, and actually of horses! He had
been, it seemed, in the western states of America, and had the queerest
stories of cowboys and their ways and their horses, told in a quaint
American drawl that made them irresistibly funny.
The nurse slipped away. A little way off Mr. and Mrs. Lester were
talking to the captain; they glanced round once or twice, hearing Dick
laugh as he had not laughed since his accident. The poor mother
flushed with pleasure.
"Listen to my boy," she said. "Who is his new friend, captain?"
The captain looked round.
"A nice fellow, and a clever one," he said. "Dr. Neil Fraser, of
Melbourne. I believe he's a spine specialist, but I don't know for
certain. Wonder if he could do your boy any good, Mrs. Lester? He can
make him laugh, that's certain."
The father and mother stared at each other.
"A spine specialist!" Mrs. Lester murmured.
"So our doctor says. He's a quiet fellow, with I don't know how many
letters after his name; but he's out for a holiday, and doesn't mix
much with the other passengers. I should say someone must have told
him about your boy."
"One of the nurses, perhaps," Mr. Lester said. "I wonder----" He
paused, and looked long at Neil Fraser's face, and came to Dick's
conclusion that it was a face to invite confidence. The captain
strolled off to talk to other passengers. John Lester put his hand on
his wife's arm.
"Shall we go and speak to him?"
"No, don't go," she said. "He and Dick are getting on famously--let us
leave them to make friends. John, do you think----"
"I don't know," he said slowly. "Somehow when I saw him beside Dick a
queer wave of hope came over me. I'd almost forgotten what hope was
like. He looks clever, Jean."
"And kind," she said. "Let us go and find the ship's doctor, and ask
him about him."
The ship's doctor, a grizzled old Scot, had only good words to say of
Neil Fraser.
"He's going to be a great man," he said. "I heard of him in London
from my brother--a doctor in Harley Street. He did some great work at
Munich, did Fraser, and I knew of a case he tackled in London with
extraordinary results. Oh, I'd certainly advise you to talk to him,
Mr. Lester. He's not practising, of course, but I'm certain he
wouldn't refuse to give you an opinion, at least."
"Does he only doctor spines?" asked Mrs. Lester.
"From all I hear," said the Scot drily, "he's disinclined to recognise
any part of the body but the spine! He's spine mad." He hesitated.
"I tell you this, Mrs. Lester; whatever opinion he gives you I don't
think you need go past it. If Neil Fraser can't cure your boy there is
no one, in Australia at any rate, who can."
Outside the surgery the Lesters looked in each other's eyes.
"Jean!" he said. "Take care, dearest; don't let yourself hope too
much."
"I shouldn't, I suppose," she said, trembling. "But--we've prayed,
John; who knows if God has not sent us on this ship to answer us!"
"Come and we'll find him," her husband said.
Neil Fraser was still talking to Dick. The boy called them eagerly as
they came up.
"That's father and mother!" he said. "Do come here; this is Mr.
Fraser, and he has been telling me most gorgeous yarns. Tell them
about the pony and the rattlesnake, Mr. Fraser--I'd love to hear it
again."
Neil Fraser told the story, and they were all laughing when the nurse
came up with a steaming cup in her hand.
"More nourishment!" said Dick, disgustedly. "My word, I'll be glad
when I'm well and can have just food to eat and not nourishment! Why
do you have to be nourished when you're ill, and not fed?"
"That's one of the great problems we've never solved," said Fraser,
laughing. "Never mind, Dick--it looks good."
"Oh, it's always good," said Dick, grinning up at the nurse. "It's
only its name I'm grumbling at."
"Indeed, I'd call it anything you like, so long as you leave me an
empty cup," she said with spirit, pulling his hair.
"We'll leave him; he doesn't like an audience," said Mr. Lester, as the
second nurse appeared. They strolled out of sight, and then he turned
to Fraser suddenly.
"Will you come to our cabin for a little?" he said.
In the cabin they looked at each other.
"They tell us you are a specialist in such cases as our boy's," John
Lester said. "Will you undertake Dick?"
Fraser hesitated.
"I'll examine him, and give you an opinion, if you wish," he said. "I
can't say more until we see the result of the examination."
"Will you do it on the ship?"
The doctor shook his head.
"I'd rather not. The slightest roll, or vibration of the screw might
make a difference."
"I'm glad," said Mrs. Lester. "Dick is happy--let him have his time on
board in peace."
"Yes, that's so," Fraser agreed. He looked at her eager face pityingly.
"Don't build up false hopes," he said. "These cases are very
difficult; there are a hundred reasons why I should not succeed where
other men fail. The little girl told me the Perth men had pronounced
against your boy's recovery."
"The little girl!" John Lester echoed.
"Yes; the one Dick calls 'Legs.' She came to my cabin and dragged me
up to see Dick. I don't know how she knew anything about me, but she
begged me, on her knees, to take out her spine and use it for Dick."
"Poor little soul!" said John Lester huskily. He put his arm around
his wife. She had broken down as, even in those hard days, she had not
done before. Over her bent shoulders he looked at the doctor.
"I don't want to build up hopes," he said, "and the Perth men certainly
did give us none. But they admitted there was a loophole; that no one
understood everything about the spine. They tell us you know more than
most men."
"Well, I have studied nothing else for four years," Fraser said. "And
fresh discoveries are bound to take place. We cure things now that ten
years ago would certainly have been hopeless. But I'm only a learner,
as any honest doctor must admit himself. I shall be a learner all my
life. It may be--it is possible--that I may find some solution of your
son's trouble. I'll do my best. Only don't be too hopeful."
He got up, clenching his hand.
"And still, never give up hope," he said. "More cases are lost through
hopelessness than you would dream of. We're only beginning to know the
power of thought; but this I can assure you, that if you surround your
boy with an atmosphere of hope and courage you go far towards helping
him, just as you help to drag him down if your heart is full of
despair. He's a boy to fight for, too. Well--I don't even know your
name yet--but I'll do my best to help you fight!"