A VISIT TO THE HOSPITAL
“Well,” said Hilda, “I’m not sure that I ought to be president of the
Grigs, after all, for I have to confess that I couldn’t find anybody to
make fun for except our old cat. But if you could see her, I’m sure
you’d agree that she’s a worthy object. She’s so old that she’s both
blind and deaf; and she’s so melancholy that it’s enough to make you
weep to look at her. I amused her and played with her and tried to make
her think she was a kitten again; but it was no go, and I finally had to
resort to one of those patent catnip-balls. That worked like a charm,
and in a few moments she was rolling around in glee and cutting up all
sorts of antics. So you see what perseverance will accomplish.”
“Far be it from me,” said Patty, “to criticise the deeds of our worthy
president; and I suppose cats want some fun in their lives as well as
people.”
“They ought to have nine times as much,” said Hilda, “for they have nine
lives and we have only one.”
“I’ve nothing more to say,” said Patty; “our president has quite
justified herself, and her effort was nine times as meritorious as any
of ours.”
“Well, I think the whole thing is fun,” said Clementine, “and next week
I mean to do something startling. I think I’ll go and call on our
minister. He is the solemnest man I know and I’d just like to see if he
_could_ laugh. I’ll take ‘Alice In Wonderland,’ and read aloud to him,
and see if I can make him smile.”
“Lewis Carroll was a clergyman himself,” said Hilda; “so probably your
minister is familiar with his works.”
“Probably he isn’t,” returned Clementine; “you don’t know our minister.
I don’t believe he ever read anything more frivolous than ‘Foxe’s Book
of Martyrs’ or the ‘Lamentations of Jeremiah.’”
“Then do go,” said Flossy, “and I’ll go with you. It would take two of
us to make a man like that smile. But I’ve finished this scrap-book, and
my! but it’s a pretty one. Observe those yellow daffodils on the cover
and the lion under them. That’s a most humorous decoration, besides
being artistically beautiful.”
“Ridiculous!” exclaimed Editha, looking at the book Flossy held up so
proudly. “It’s enough to make a cat laugh!”
“Then I’ll send it home to Hilda’s cat,” said Flossy quickly; “it may
help to brighten one of her nine sad lives.”
By this time it was nearly noon, and though they had enjoyed the work,
the girls were nevertheless pleased when they saw a maid come in at the
door with a large tray which held seven cups of cocoa and piled-up
plates of sandwiches.
“Do you know that tray makes me laugh more than these scrap-books, with
all their side-splitting pictures,” said Clementine.
“Yes, it’s the merriest thing I’ve seen this morning,” said Adelaide;
“it really puts me in quite a good humour; I wouldn’t even be cross with
Editha just now.”
The Grigs did full justice to Mrs. Morse’s hospitality, and then that
lady herself came into the play-room.
She was most enthusiastic over the girls’ morning work and quite agreed
that they were true missionaries in their chosen field.
“And now,” she said, “I have an omnibus at the door and if you’ll all
bundle into it I’ll take you around to the hospital; for the matron
telephoned that we might come to-day between twelve and one o’clock. I
have been hunting up a lot of comic papers and humorous books to take
along; and I have some flowers, too, for there are some people who are
too ill to read, but who can be cheered by fresh blossoms.”
Patty looked admiringly at Mrs. Morse, who was a lady after her own
heart, and more than ever she felt reminded of Aunt Alice.
The girls gathered up their scrap-books and dolls and toys and found to
their delight that they had a large basketful.
Downstairs they went, donned their hats and coats and started for the
hospital.
The big roomy vehicle held the eight easily, and they laughed and
chattered in a fashion quite suited to their avowed character.
Mrs. Morse had explained the situation to Miss Bidwell, the hospital
matron, and that good lady was pleased to see the seven merry Grigs.
Cautioning them to be quiet while going through the halls, she led them
to the convalescent ward, where a score or more wan-faced children
looked at them wonderingly.
The girls had arranged their programme beforehand. Standing in the
middle of the room, where all the little patients could see her, Flossy
recited some funny poetry. Her happy, smiling face and her comical words
and gestures proved quite as amusing as the girls had hoped, and the
little sick children laughed aloud in glee.
Then Clementine sang some nonsense-songs, and after that Hilda told a
funny story. Hilda was a born mimic and her representation of the
different characters pleased the children greatly.
After this the girls went around separately to the various little cots,
and talked to the invalids personally. There were so many of the
children that in order not to neglect any, the interview was necessarily
short with each one. But there was time for a little merry conversation
with each, besides presenting the gifts they had brought.
Patty was particularly attracted by a little boy about eight years old,
who had broken his leg. The little fellow’s face was white and drawn
with suffering, and his sad eyes made him seem far older than he really
was. Instinctively, Patty made up her mind to bring all the pleasure and
merriment into that child’s life that she possibly could; and just
because he seemed to be the forlornest specimen of humanity present, she
resolved to make him her special charge. His name, he said, was Tommy
Skelling, and his leg had been broken in a trolley accident. But it was
a compound fracture, and caused the boy almost continuous pain and
suffering. It seemed especially pathetic even to try to make the little
chap laugh, but Patty felt sure that diversion would do him more good
than sympathy. So she told him the funniest story she knew, and picked
out the funniest scrap-book for him. She was rewarded by finding him
very appreciative, and succeeded in making him forget his pain for the
moment, and laugh heartily at her fun.
As the girls were taking leave Tommy confided to Patty his opinion of
the club.
“You’re the nicest one,” he said, “but,” pointing a skinny little finger
at Flossy, “she’s the prettiest. And she,” indicating Clementine in the
same way, “she’s the grandest; but she’s nice. You’re all nice, and I
hope you’ll come again soon, and I wish I could have one of those peanut
doll-babies.”
Luckily, there was an extra doll left, and it was given to Tommy, who
laughed outright at the grotesque toy.
“Well, that performance was certainly a screaming success,” said
Adelaide, as they were all in the omnibus going home.
“It was, indeed,” said Mrs. Morse, “and I think you girls are to be
congratulated on your good work.”
“Somehow, it just happened,” said Patty; “we began this society more
with the idea of having fun ourselves, and now the main object seems to
be to make fun for others.”
“I think we can do both,” said Flossy, “and next week I want you all to
come to my house, and not bring any work. We can make scrap-books and
things at some meetings, but next time we’re just going to play.”
“That’s all right,” said Hilda, suddenly assuming her presidential air.
“Of course we’re not going to work at every meeting. But remember,
through the week we’re to scatter all the fun we can, and liven up the
world in general. And I’ll try to find somebody besides a cat next
time.”
Mrs. Morse and Clementine went around with the girls, and left each one
at her home.
Patty went flying in to her own apartment in quest of Grandma.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, “we had a perfectly lovely meeting, and Mrs. Morse
is a dear! She took us to the hospital in an omnibus, and we made all
the little sick children laugh, and they enjoyed it ever so much, and so
did we. I wish papa would come home; I want to tell him all about it.”
“He isn’t coming home to-day,” said Grandma Elliott, smiling at the
excited appearance of her young charge; “you’ll have to wait until
Monday before you can tell him.”
“Oh,” cried Patty, “he’s gone to Philadelphia! to see Nan! How do you
know?”
“Yes,” said Grandma, “he has gone to Philadelphia, to stay over Sunday.
He telephoned up from the office this morning, and then he came up for a
few moments about noon. And he said for you and me to go out to
Vernondale this afternoon, and stay until Monday, too.”
“Oh, goody!” cried Patty, clapping her hands; “I’m just perfectly crazy
to see Marian, and all of them. Can’t we go right away, Grandma?”
“Well, we’ll go soon after luncheon. At any rate, we’ll get there by
dinner-time.”
“Oh, no, Grandma, let’s go earlier, so I’ll get there in time to go to
the Tea Club meeting. They’ll be so surprised to see me, and I can tell
them all about the Grigs. It will be such fun!”
“Very well, then; go and brush your hair and make yourself tidy, and
we’ll go right down to luncheon now. Then, if we’re spry, we can easily
reach Vernondale by half-past three or four o’clock.”
“That will be lovely,” cried Patty, as she danced away to her room;
“what a dear, good Grandma you are!”
They were spry, and were fortunate enough to catch a fast train, so that
by four o’clock they were at Aunt Alice’s.
Marian had gone to the Tea Club, which met that day at Elsie Morris’s,
and after waiting only for a few words with Aunt Alice and the little
children, Patty flew over to Elsie’s.
Such a hullabaloo as greeted her arrival! As Patty said afterwards, the
girls couldn’t have made more fuss over her if she had been Queen of the
Cannibal Islands.
“I’m _so_ glad you came,” said Ethel Holmes, for the dozenth time, as
she hovered around Patty; “now tell us every single thing you’ve done
since you’ve been in New York. Are the girls nice? How do you like your
school? Do you belong to a Tea Club? How do you like your hotel? Don’t
you miss us girls?”
“Do wait a minute, Ethel,” cried Patty, laughing, “before you go any
further. That is, if you want your questions answered. I guess I’ll
answer the last one first. Of course I miss you girls awfully. Not but
what the girls there are nice enough, but I want you, too. I wish you’d
all come and live in New York.”
Marian said very little, but sat and held Patty’s hand, as if afraid she
might run away. Marian was devotedly attached to her cousin, and missed
her more than anybody had any idea of, excepting Aunt Alice.
“But tell us about it all,” said Polly Stevens; “do you go to the
theatre every night?”
“Goodness, no!” exclaimed Patty; “of course not. I don’t go at all,
except when papa took me to a matinée once, and he says I may go two or
three more times during the winter. No, Ethel, we don’t have a Tea Club,
but we have a club called the Grigs.”
“What a crazy name!” exclaimed Elsie; “what does it mean?”
So Patty explained all about the Grigs, and their aims, and their work,
and play.
“I think it’s lovely,” said Polly Stevens, “and I do think you have
beautiful times. Just think of your all going to the hospital together
in an ambulance.”
“I didn’t say ambulance, Polly, I said omnibus,” said Patty, as the
girls went off into shrieks of laughter.
“Well, it’s all the same,” said Polly, quite unabashed; “you all went
together in some big vehicle, and I think that’s fun.”
“It was fun,” said Patty; “and it was lovely to see the poor little sick
children brighten up and laugh merrily, in spite of their pain and
illness.”
“I think, girls,” said Marian, “that it would be nice for the Tea Club
to make some scrap-books and dolls and things, and send them in to the
Grigs for them to take to the hospital.”
“Marian, you’re a darling,” said Patty, affectionately squeezing her
cousin’s hand; “it will be perfectly lovely if you only would, for we
can use any amount of those things, and you would be doing such a lot of
good to those poor little children.”
And thus the good influence and helpful work of the Grigs was widened in
a manner quite unexpected.