Colonel Platten receives a Strange Request.
THE doctor found John Griffin even worse than Maggie's words had led
him to expect. The old man lay with flushed, anxious face, breathing
heavily, each breath costing him severe pain. Dr. Thornton spoke kindly
and soothingly to him, and stayed long beside his bed, doing all he
could to relieve his sufferings. Ere he left, his patient seemed
a little easier, but nevertheless Dr. Thornton went away with the
conviction that old Griffin would not struggle through this attack as
he had through the former one.
And now, as in that other illness, John Griffin had a burden of sin
upon his mind, which he pondered in hours of pain and sleeplessness.
Again he resolved that with returning health he would take an early
opportunity of setting right the wrong he had done.
But several days passed, and he grew no better.
Fresh symptoms and complications presented themselves, baffling the
doctor's skill. He came every day to see the old man, and did his
utmost for him; but, after a while, his visits became shorter and
shorter, and Mrs. Griffin wondered at the change she observed in the
doctor's appearance. It struck her that he was looking almost as ill as
his patient, and his manner had grown so quiet, that he scarce said an
unnecessary word.
Even Maggie felt the change in him, and shrank back in awe at the sight
of his grave, pale face. He never stopped to speak to her now before
leaving the house; he did not even pat her on the head if he met her on
the stairs.
He came into the house, examined his patient, prescribed for him, and
then took his departure with an automaton-like precision. What could
have wrought such a change in the kind-hearted, genial doctor?
Ere long, an acquaintance coming in to inquire for the invalid, gave
Mrs. Griffin a sufficient explanation. "Have you heard?" she asked.
"That Dr. Thornton's wife is very ill, and not expected to live? They
say she caught cold at a ball, and has got inflammation of the lungs.
Won't it be sad if he loses her? For they haven't been married a year
yet."
When Mrs. Griffin knew this, she could no longer wonder at the doctor's
grave, silent demeanour. She thought that it was very good of him to
come every day to see Griffin, and do so much for him, whilst he was in
sore trouble about his dear young wife.
Little Maggie was very grieved to hear the news. She could not bear to
think that the "pretty lady," whose visit to the shop had given her
such delight, and who had looked so lovely when she saw her in her own
home, should be ill. She prayed every day that God would soon make
her grandfather well; now she added to her prayer a similar request
concerning the "pretty lady."
At last, one day, Dr. Thornton came to the house looking quite a
different man. He entered with a light, quick step; and his face,
though still pale and worn, had a bright and happy expression.
Maggie peeped out of the shop at the sound of his entrance, and seeing
this change in his appearance, the child ventured to address him.
"Good-morning, Dr. Thornton," she said; "is your wife better?"
"Yes, thank you, Maggie; she is very much better, I am thankful to
say," he replied, with a bright smile; "I hope she will soon recover
now." And in his gratitude for the child's sympathy, he stooped and
gave her a kiss.
"I'm very glad to hear that," said Maggie, smiling; "do you think my
grandfather will soon get better too?"
The doctor's look changed. "I don't know, I hope so," he said, and went
hurriedly upstairs.
As he entered the sick room, the doctor saw a great change in old
Griffin's appearance. He knew then that there would be no getting
better for his patient. The end was drawing near.
The old man was sleeping, and Dr. Thornton would not have him roused.
Perhaps in this deep sleep, which seemed so restful, he would pass away.
Dr. Thornton beckoned Mrs. Griffin from the room, and tried to prepare
her for what might soon happen. She had long felt that thus it would
be, yet her grief, when told that all hope was at an end, was bitter
indeed. Her sorrow touched Dr. Thornton keenly, contrasting as it did
with his own joyous relief from fear and anxiety.
But though she broke down utterly at first, Mrs. Griffin soon recovered
herself, and put her grief aside for the sake of the loved sufferer.
She went back with a calm though sorrow-stricken face to take her place
beside her husband's bed.
Presently little Maggie stole into the room, and sat down on the other
side of the bed. She had often sat there during old Griffin's illness.
He liked to know that his "little maid" was near him. Sometimes, when
he felt a little better, she had read to him from her mother's Bible,
or sung him the hymn which he liked so well to hear.
Whilst they sat thus, John Griffin suddenly opened his eyes, and looked
round first at his wife, and then at Maggie.
"Both here!" he said, with a smile. "That's right."
"So you're awake at last, John," said his wife, coming forward to give
him some nourishment; "the doctor's been here, but he would not wake
you because you was so sound asleep."
"What did the doctor say about me?" asked the old man.
Mrs. Griffin knew not how to reply. She shrank from telling him what
the doctor had said. But old Griffin saw her hesitation, and could
guess its meaning.
"I know, my wife, I know," he said, faintly; "I have not long to live.
I don't want the doctor to tell me that. But there is something to be
done ere I die. I must repent and forsake my sins, or the Lord will not
forgive me. I must try to undo the wrong I have done my little maid."
"You wronged Maggie!" exclaimed his wife, in astonishment. "Why, John,
what do you mean? You've been as good to her as if she were your own
child!"
"Why, grandfather, what can you be thinking of?" put in Maggie,
hastily. "You've always been good to me, so good and kind."
"I've meant to be good to you, Maggie," he murmured; "but I've wronged
you nevertheless, though 'twas my love for you led me to do it. It was
all along of that Worcester jug. Will you do something for me, Maggie?"
"Of course I will,—anything!" she cried.
"Then I want you to go to Colonel Platten, the gentleman who bought the
jug of me. He lives in a large house at the top of Lockyer Street. Any
one will show you the house. Give him my duty, and beg him to come to
me at once. Say that I have something of importance to tell him. It is
about the Worcester jug. Lose no time, my child, for I have little to
count on now."
Maggie went without another word, and made all the haste she could. The
short December day was drawing to a close as she sped quickly up the
lane on her way to Lockyer Street. As she went her heart was heavy with
the thought that soon her adopted grandfather must die and leave her,
and that perhaps this would be the last errand on which she would run
for him.
Maggie had no difficulty in finding the colonel's house. The first
tradesman's boy she met in the street could direct her to it. With a
feeling of awe she recognized the house as that outside which she had
stood so long with her mother on that bitter winter's night a year ago.
Pushing back the gate, Maggie hurried to the front door, and rang the
bell sharply.
A servant appeared in answer to her summons, who was about to scold
Maggie for startling the house by such a loud peal; but the child's
pale, anxious face stayed her anger.
"Please I want to see Colonel Platten," said Maggie, breathlessly.
"Then you can't," replied the servant, "for he is not at home."
"Not at home!" exclaimed Maggie, in a tone of despair. "Oh, what shall
I do?"
"Is it anything so very particular?" said the servant, struck by the
child's look and manner. "Can't you leave a message with me?"
"Oh, no, I must see him," said Maggie; "it is very important, and it
may soon be too late."
"Then you had better go to Dr. Thornton's," said the servant; "the
colonel is most likely there. Do you know where the doctor lives?"
Maggie only replied by a nod, as she darted through the gate, and ran
at full speed in the direction of Dr. Thornton's house.
"Whatever can she want?" said the servant.
Maggie found the colonel at Dr. Thornton's house, as she had been led
to expect. He was sitting in his daughter's sick room, when a servant
came to tell him that a little girl was below, very anxious to speak
with him.
"A little girl to see me!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "You must be
making a mistake. It is surely the doctor she wants."
"No, sir, she asked for Colonel Platten. She says she comes from John
Griffin, who keeps an old curiosity shop. She said you would know who
he was."
"Oh, I know," said a weak voice from the couch, where Maud was sitting
up supported by pillows, "I know the child. She is the sweetest little
thing. Let her come up here, papa; I should like to see her."
"My dear Maud, do you think that is wise?" remonstrated her father.
"The girl has probably come on some begging errand. Why should you
fatigue yourself by listening to her story?"
"It won't fatigue me, papa, and I'm sure she's no beggar," returned
Maud; "do let her come. I am tired of lying here and seeing nobody."
Colonel Platten thought this one of the strangest of his daughter's
many strange whims, but he judged it best not to oppose it.
"Very well, my dear, it shall be as you wish," he said, and bade the
servant bring the child up.
Maggie's appearance as she entered the sick room was not at all such as
the colonel expected to see. He saw a pretty, dark-eyed child, dressed
in neat, trim style, who came in with a quiet, composed manner, only
her flushed cheeks and rapid breathing betraying the excitement she
felt. In an instant the colonel's thoughts were carried back over many
years, to the days when just such a little dark-eyed girl as this had
been the only child of his home. In his surprise he could not speak for
a few moments, but stood silently regarding the child with a look of
admiration and interest.
Eager as she was to tell her errand, Maggie forgot it for a minute as
she gazed sadly at her "pretty lady," now so white and wasted.
"Well, Maggie," said Mrs. Thornton, as she met the child's earnest
gaze, "what brings you here to-night?"
"I came to see Colonel Platten," said Maggie.
"Here I am, child," said the colonel, from his place on the hearth-rug;
"what have you to say to me?"
"Oh, please, sir, grandfather has sent me," said the child,
falteringly; "he is very ill, and the doctor says he is going to die.
And he wants to see you first, for he has something particular to say
to you. Would you be so good as to go to him, please, sir?"
"What can your grandfather have to say to me?" demanded Colonel
Platten, ill-pleased with the strange request. "I know nothing of him."
"Oh yes, you do, please, sir," Maggie hastened to explain; "my
grandfather keeps the old curiosity shop, where you bought that
beautiful Worcester jug, with pictures painted upon it. It's about that
jug that grandfather wants to speak to you."
"About that jug!" exclaimed the colonel, with a sudden start. What
could the old man have to tell him? he wondered.
"Yes, sir; you will come, won't you?" pleaded Maggie. "Grandfather is
very ill, and he said it might be too late, if you did not come soon."
"Yes, I will come." decided the colonel.
"You will not leave me all alone, papa?" cried Maud, in distress.
"I am very sorry, Maud; but what can I do?" asked the colonel, in
perplexity.
"Do not go," urged his daughter; "what does it matter whether or not
you hear something about an old jug?"
"Oh, please let him come!" cried Maggie, turning to the lady with tears
in her eyes. "Grandfather wishes it so much."
"Well, will you stay with me whilst papa goes?" asked Maud, who had
taken a great fancy to the pretty child.
Maggie hesitated. It was hard to stay away even for an hour from her
grandfather's bedside; but she felt bound to do all she could to gain
the fulfilment of his last wish.
"Yes, I will stay with you," she said.
And without heeding her evident reluctance, Mrs. Thornton bade her
remove her hat and jacket, and come and sit beside her couch.
After kissing his daughter the colonel quitted the room, and a few
minutes later they heard him leave the house.
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