A NEW PLASTER.
"It seems to me, my dear," said grandma, standing on the piazza, and
drawing on her gloves, "that it is a _very_ great risk to run to go and
leave those children to themselves for six whole hours. If you _could_
manage without me, I think I'll stay at home, even now," and grandma
looked somewhat irresolutely at the carriage, which was waiting at the
gate to take them to the station.
"I am afraid you must come, mother, on account of those business
matters," Mrs. Somers answered. "But the children will be all right, I
know. Eliza will look out for the small fry, and the elders must look
out for themselves," she added, looking down at the three, Eunice, Edna,
and Cricket, with a smile. "Don't get into any mischief, will you?"
The girls looked insulted.
"The very _idea_, auntie!" exclaimed Eunice. "As if we ever got into
mischief! Nobody looks after us especially, at Kayuna."
"And, consequently," said auntie, with a sly smile, "you go to the
cider-mill when you are put in charge of the children, and get run away
with by the oxen."
Eunice got very red.
"Well, that was a great while ago, auntie, when we were quite young,"
she said, with as much dignity as if the occurrence auntie referred to
was half a dozen years ago, instead of one. "Anyway," changing the
subject, "we'll look after everything now, and you can stay till the
last train, if you want to."
"No, dear, thank you. We'll come on the 5.10, I think, at any rate.
Perhaps earlier, if we accomplish all our business. There! I didn't put
on my watch. Edna, will you run up-stairs and get it, from my bureau or
table? I think I laid it on the table. No, wait. Have you yours, mother?
Never mind, then, Edna. But will you please put it back in my drawer,
when you go up-stairs, dear? Don't forget. Well, good-by. Be good
children," and with a kiss all round, auntie and grandma got into the
carriage.
"Good-by. Be sure and bring me some chocolate caramels," called Edna.
Auntie smiled, nodded, and waved her hand, and then Luke turned the
corner, and they rolled away.
"The boys said that the tide would be right for bathing, about eleven,"
Cricket said, after they had watched them out of sight. "Come on, it's
most time," and off they trooped for their plunge. The children were
already over at the Cove, with Eliza, running about in their little blue
bathing-suits, though they generally went in only ankle deep. Edna could
swim well, and Cricket had made good progress in the last week. Eunice
took to the water as naturally as a duck, and, strange to say, had
learned to swim well, before Cricket did.
After their bath they came back to the house, where Eunice and Cricket
settled themselves on the piazza, to write letters to the travellers.
Cricket kept a journal letter and scribbled industriously every day.
Both Eunice and Cricket had sometimes very homesick moments, when papa
and mamma seemed very far away, and Cricket, in particular, occasionally
conjured up very gloomy possibilities of her pining away, and dying of
homesickness, before they returned, so that when they should come home,
they would find only her grave, covered with flowers. She even went so
far, in one desperate moment, as to compose a fitting epitaph for her
tombstone, which was to be of white marble, of course, with an angel on
top.
This was the epitaph.
"Oh, stranger, pause! Beneath this mossy stone
Lies a poor child, who died, forsaken and alone.
Her mother far in distant lands did roam,
Leaving her daughter, Jean, to die at home.
She pined away in sad and lonely grief,
Not any pleasures brought to her relief,
And when at last her family returned,
With sorrow great, about her death they learned.
So, pause, oh, stranger! drop a single tear,
Pity the grief of her who liest here."
This effusion was the greatest consolation to Cricket. She never showed
it to anybody, not even to Eunice, but she often took it out, and read
it with much satisfaction, and was almost inclined to begin pining away
directly.
But on the whole they were very contented, and it was much easier for
them than if they had been left at Kayuna.
Dinner-time--dinner was a one o'clock feast, in the summer--came when
they had finished their letters, and had them ready for the mail.
"We'll have the European letters to-night," said Eunice, joyfully, as
they sat down to the table. "Does it seem as if we'd been here two
weeks? Mamma won't seem so far away, when we get the first letters."
"There was the cablegram," said Edna.
"That doesn't count," said Eunice. "It wasn't mamma's own dear
handwriting."
"Papa writed it," chirped in Helen.
"No, he didn't, goosie," said Cricket. "The man here wrote it. Papa only
sent it."
"I know!" exclaimed Zaidee. "Papa talked it into the box, and the man
writed it down when he talked," confusing the telephone at home with the
cablegram, which, directed to Miss Eunice Ward, as the eldest
representative, had been the occasion of much excitement on its arrival.
After dinner the three girls started down on the beach, to sit down
under the rocks till it should be cool enough, later, to go for a ride
with the ponies.
"There comes the baby, all alone," said Cricket, presently, as that
young man slipped out of the yard all by himself, and ran across the
road and down towards the beach where the girls were. "Doesn't he look
cunning? The darling!"
Kenneth, although he was nearly four, was still The Baby to the family.
His broad-brimmed hat hung down his back, held around his chin by its
elastic, and his golden hair was rampant. His blue eyes were dancing
with mischief, and his hands were clasped behind his back.
"Dess what I dot?" he demanded, pausing at a safe distance, and looking
up roguishly from under his long lashes.
"What have you there, baby? See what he has, Cricket, and tell him he
mustn't have it," said Eunice.
"Bring it to Cricket, baby," said that young lady, holding out her hand.
"Dess what I dot," repeated the baby, edging off a little.
Just then Zaidee appeared from the house. Kenneth immediately trotted
off up the beach at the sight of her. She ran after him.
"Do away!" he cried, holding his possession, whatever it was, more
tightly. "You tan't have it, Zaidee. I dot it."
"What's the matter, Zaidee?" called Eunice. "Where's Eliza?"
"She's dressing Helen. Eunice, Kenneth has auntie's gold watch. She
left it on the little table where she keeps her God-books"--for so the
twins always called the Bible and Prayer-book--"and he's run off with
it. I guess auntie forgot it. Ought he to have it, Eunice?"
"Of course not," said Eunice, springing up. "Edna, auntie told us to put
it away, and we forgot it. Dear me! I hope he won't drop it. Baby, come
here and give the watch to Eunice." She went slowly towards him, holding
out her hand.
But baby hugged his treasure. "I dot tick-tick!" he announced,
triumphantly. "Tennet likes it. Oo tan't have it," and off he started as
fast as two little legs could carry him, over the soft sand till he
reached the firmer beach, which the receding tide had left hard.
Eunice sprang after him. The baby looked back over his shoulder, greatly
enjoying the race, tripped over a bit of stone, and fell headlong, the
watch shooting on ahead. He gave a frightened cry as he fell, but the
next instant, when Eunice reached him, he lay motionless. Hurriedly she
raised him up. A stream of blood poured from an ugly gash in his poor
little forehead, cut on a piece of glass that was half imbedded in the
sand. As she raised him his golden head fell back heavily, and his eyes
were closed.
"Oh, girls, girls!" shrieked Eunice. "Kenneth is dead! he's killed! he's
killed!"
Cricket and Edna were already by her side.
"Run, Zaidee--Edna--run for Eliza. Get some water, Cricket. Oh, baby,
speak to me," poor frightened Eunice cried, half beside herself at the
gruesome sight of the baby's white, still face, and that dreadful blood
welling up so fast, and staining everything with its vivid red. Cricket
flew to the edge of the beach, dipping water up in the crown of her
sailor hat. She tore off her soft Windsor tie to use for a handkerchief
(which, of course, she didn't have), to wipe off the streaming blood.
The little face looked ghastly white, in contrast to the blood-soaked
hair about it.
Eliza came flying from the house with the Pond's Extract bottle in one
hand and a bundle of old linen in the other, articles that were always
at hand, ready for use.
"Bring him into the shade," she called, as she ran, and Eunice, with
Kenneth in her arms, hurried up the beach. Eliza took him as they met,
and fairly flew back into the yard.
"Oh, Billy!" she called, passing him, "go for the doctor as fast as you
can. Kenneth's dreadfully hurt. No, Miss Edna, you go. You can go
quicker;" and Edna flew.
Eliza, frightened herself by the child's unconsciousness, dropped on the
grass under a tree, trying to stanch the blood that now flowed less
freely. Eunice ran for hartshorn, Cricket for water. As they washed away
the blood, they could see the long, ugly cut just over his eye. Eliza
laid linen bandages soaking in Pond's Extract over the place, but in a
moment they were stained through.
Edna came rushing back, panting and breathless.
"The doctor's gone away--won't be back for ever so long--they'll send
him right over when he comes. Oh, Eliza! will Kenneth die?"
Zaidee set up a shriek at the word.
"Be still, Zaidee," ordered Cricket, slipping her hand over the little
girl's mouth. "You go and find poor Helen, and help her finish her
dressing."
Zaidee went off, sobbing, and Eunice asked, anxiously:
"Couldn't we plaster it up ourselves? I know papa says the edges of a
cut like that ought to be drawn together as soon as possible, and
bandaged. I know how he does it. He sops the place off, and washes the
cut out, and puts strips of sticking-plaster over it, and then ties it
up in a dry bandage."
"Oh, it's a head you have, Miss Eunice," said Eliza, who showed her
Irish blood by her terror.
"You get some sticking-plaster, Miss Cricket, while I sop off the blood.
Oh, my pretty! my pretty! See! he's opening his eyes. Do you know 'Liza,
lovey?"
The heavy blue eyes opened, languidly, and the yellow head stirred a
little. The motion set the blood flowing again.
"Kenneth," said Eunice, bending down beside him; "here's sister! wake
him up, if you can, 'Liza. Papa wouldn't let Zaidee go to sleep last
winter when she fell off the bedstead and bumped her head so. Baby! wake
up, pet!" and she kissed him, eagerly.
In a few minutes, Cricket came running out of the house. "We can't find
any sticking-plaster, and we've looked everywhere. Edna says she
doesn't know if her mother has any. What shall we do? I know it ought
to be put together right away, else it wouldn't heal so well. Oh, wait!
I know!" and back she darted. Immediately she reappeared with a part of
a sheet of postage stamps.
"These will do, 'Liza," she said, excitedly. "Now, is the cut all washed
out? Here, I can do it. I've watched papa lots of times."
Cricket knelt down by the baby and dipped a piece of linen in water. The
flow of blood was very slight by this time. She wiped Kenneth's forehead
off, carefully, over and over, and then the cut itself, looking to see
if any bit of glass or sand was still in it. Then, with firm, gentle
little fingers, she drew the gaping edges together closely, and held
them, while Eunice moistened some postage stamps in water, and laid them
in place.
"Cricket! how can you do that? How do you know how?" exclaimed Edna, who
kept in the rear, since the sight of the blood made her feel a little
faint and sick.
"I've seen papa _loads_ of times," answered Cricket, in her
matter-of-fact way. "If only we had some surgeon's plaster. But that
will hold for now. Bind this strip tight around it now, 'Liza. Baby,
can't you talk a little? Do you know Cricket?"
"Tritet," repeated Kenneth, with a faint little smile. "Tritet take
baby."
"Let me have him," begged Cricket, and Eliza laid him gently in his
little sister's arms.
"Eunice, there's Mrs. Bemis coming over," said Edna, "I'm so glad."
Mrs. Bemis was the doctor's wife. She came hastily up to the little
group.
"I was out when Edna came, and just got in. The girl told me some one
was hurt, so I came right over. The baby, is it? poor little soul! has
he lost all that blood? did he cut himself?"
Eunice explained, and Cricket told Eliza to unfasten the bandage to ask
Mrs. Bemis if it was all right. At the sight of four pink stamps, the
doctor's wife exclaimed in astonishment:
"What have you put on for a plaster? It looks beautifully done."
"Them's postage stamps," volunteered Eliza, quickly. "Miss Cricket
couldn't find any sticking-plaster, so she brought this. Oh, she's her
father's own child for the doctorin'."
"I thought they might do," explained Cricket, rather shyly. "I knew I
ought to have strips of plaster, of course, but I couldn't find any. I
thought the cut ought to be drawn together as soon as possible."
"You're a thoughtful child," said Mrs. Bemis, warmly.
"But Eunice thought of doing it first," answered Cricket, quickly. "I
only thought of the postage stamps."
"He's too heavy for you, my dear," said Mrs. Bemis, then. "Carry him
gently into the house, Eliza. He's faint with the loss of so much blood.
Let him go, dear," as Cricket demurred. "Eliza can carry him better than
you. Let me give him a few drops of this, first," and she moistened the
baby's lips with a few drops from a flask she had brought in her hand.
When the little procession reached the hall door, Mrs. Bemis said:
"Let me take care of him now, with Eliza, girls. You keep the twins
amused out-of-doors," for Zaidee and Helen came creeping down the
staircase, looking frightened to death. The girls willingly turned back,
having taken them in charge.
"Oh, the watch!" suddenly exclaimed Edna, and they all raced down to
the beach, where the accident had happened. The watch still lay,
gleaming in the sunlight, where it had fallen, ticking as unconcernedly
as if no adventure had befallen it. Fortunately, it had alighted on a
particularly soft bit of sand. Edna picked it up.
"If only I hadn't forgotten to put this away when mamma told me to, all
this wouldn't have happened," she said, remorsefully.
"I suppose Kenneth just slipped in there after 'Liza finished dressing
him," said Eunice, "and saw it lying on the table. You know he's always
teasing auntie to show him her 'tick-tick.'"
They went slowly back into the yard, scarcely knowing what to do with
themselves. They could not settle to any of their regular amusements,
and nobody wanted to go off riding. The twins were still under the tree,
where they had left them. Helen ran towards them.
"Eunice, won't you please make Zaidee stop drinking up all the Pond's
Extrap? She says she likes it, and I'm afraid it will kill her," she
said, half crying. "I told her to don't, and she didn't don't."
"Put the bottle right down, Zaidee," ordered Eunice, laughing. "If you
drink the Pond's Extract, what will you do when you fall down and hurt
yourself, next time?"
Zaidee took a last hasty swallow. Strange to say, she did like it, very
much.
"I suppose it goes all down inside my legs," she said, with calm
conviction, "and if I bump my legs it will do them lots more good inside
than outside. Come on, Helen. 'Liza said cook would give us our supper
to-night, and she's calling us."
"What funny children," exclaimed Edna. "Does Zaidee really _like_ it?"
"Yes, really. 'Liza keeps the bottle locked up. Isn't it funny?"
Just before auntie and grandma returned, Dr. Bemis came over, and went
to see his little patient. He was amused at Cricket's original plaster,
for which he carefully substituted the proper article, but he pronounced
the dressing of the cut very nicely done, and said that the cut would
not have healed so well as he hoped it would now, if it had been left
open for that two hours that elapsed before he could get there.