The spring turned into summer, and with the longer days and warmer
sunshine and gentle rain there grew up a great many more "pretty things"
for Mary to show to her little sister Dolly; and Dolly herself grew like
the flowers and the lambs. By the time she was three months old she
could not only smile, she could even give little chuckling laughs when
she was very pleased. Mary was quite sure that the baby understood all
she said to her, and I do not think she would have been very surprised
any day if Dolly had begun to talk.
"Why can't she talk, mamma?" she asked her mother one morning.
"No little baby learns to do everything at once," mamma answered. "She
has to learn to walk and run and use her little hands the way you do.
Just think what a lot of things babies have to learn; you must have
patience."
Mary tried to have patience; she did not so much mind baby's not being
able to stand or walk or things of that kind, for she could understand
that her little legs needed to grow stronger and firmer, but for a long
time she could not understand about the not talking, and it got to be
quite a trouble to her.
"She can cry and she can laugh and she can coo, and she hears all the
words we say to her," said Mary, with a little sigh; "I can't think why
she won't talk. Oh, baby dear! don't you think you could if you tried?
It's _kite_ easy."
Baby was lying on the ground out on the lawn, where nurse had spread a
nice thick shawl for her in case the grass might be damp, and Mary was
sitting beside her, taking care of her for a minute or two all by
herself. Nurse had gone in to fetch some more work. Mary was very
proud of being trusted with baby. Leigh and Artie were at their
lessons.
"Baby dear," she said again, "don't you think you could say just some
little words if you tried? Nurse would be so pleased when she comes out
if she could hear you saying, `Dear little sister Mary' to me!"
She was leaning over baby, and gave her a little kiss. Baby looked up
and opened her mouth very wide. Mary could see her little pink tongue,
but that was all there was to be seen; and just at that moment there
started into Mary's head what must be the reason that baby could not
speak.
"She hasn't got no teeth!" cried Mary. "She's opening her mouth wide to
show me! Oh, poor little darling baby! Has they been forgotten? The
baby at the Lavender Cottages has got teeth!"
Baby did not seem to mind; she lay there smiling quite happily, as if
she was pleased that Mary understood her, but Mary felt very unhappy
indeed. Something came back into her mind that she had heard about
baby's teeth, but it was a long time ago, and she could not remember it
clearly. Was it something about them having been forgotten?
"I'm afraid there's been a mistook," said Mary to herself. "Oh, poor
baby! A'posing she never can speak! Oh, nurse, nurse, do come; I want
to tell you something about poor baby!"
But nurse was still in the house and could not hear Mary calling, and
Mary dared not go to fetch her because baby must not be left alone. So
she did what most little girls, and little boys too sometimes, do when
they're in trouble,--she began to cry.
"Oh, nurse, nurse!" she wailed through her tears, "do come--oh, do
come?"
And though baby could not speak she certainly could hear. She
half-rolled herself round at the sound of her sister's sad sobs and
cries, and for a moment or two her own little face puckered up as if she
were going to cry too--it is wonderful how soon a tiny baby learns to
know if the people about it are in trouble--but then she seemed to
change her mind, for she was a very sensible baby. And instead of
crying she gave a sort of little gurgling coo that was very sweet, for
it said quite plainly that she knew Mary was grieving, and she wanted to
be told what it was all about. At first Mary did not hear her, she was
so taken up with her own crying. That is the worst of crying; it makes
one quite unnoticing of everything else.
Then baby rolled herself still nearer; if only she had understood about
catching hold of things, no doubt she would have given Mary a little
tug. But she had not learnt that yet. So all she could do was to go on
with her cooing till at last Mary heard it. Then the big sister turned
round, her poor face all red and wet with her tears; and when she saw
baby staring up at her with her sweet, big, baby eyes, and cooing away
in her dear little voice, which sounded rather sad, she stooped down and
gave her _such_ a hug that, if Dolly had not been really very
good-natured, I am afraid her cooing would have been changed into
crying.
"Oh, baby, you sweet--you dear little innicent sweet!" said Mary;
"you're too little to understand what I'm crying for. I'm crying 'cos
the angels or the fairies has forgotten about your teeth, and I'm afraid
you'll never be able to speak--not all your life, poor baby!"
But baby only cooed louder than before. And Mary, looking up, saw what
baby saw too--that nurse was coming over the lawn; and baby's face broke
out into quite a wide smile; she was very fond of nurse.
Poor nurse did not smile when she got close to the two little girls, for
she saw that Mary was crying, and she was afraid there was something the
matter.
"Have you hurt yourself, Miss Mary?" she said. "Miss Baby's all right,
but what are you crying about?"
"Oh, nurse, I've been calling you so," said Mary,--"calling and
_calling_. I'm so unhappy about baby;" and then she told nurse the sad
thought that had come into her mind, and how troubled she was about it.
Nurse listened very gravely, but--would you believe it?--when Mary had
finished all her story, what do you think she did? She sat down on the
grass and picked up baby in her arms and burst out laughing. I do not
think she had laughed so much for a long time.
"Oh, Miss Mary, my dear," she said, "you are a funny child!"
Mary looked up at her, her face still wet with tears and with a very
solemn expression; she did not quite like nurse's laughing at her when
she had been so unhappy.
"I'm not funny," she said. "It's very sad for poor baby," and new tears
came into her eyes at the thought that even nurse did not care.
But nurse had left off laughing by this time. "Miss Mary, my dear," she
said, "don't make a trouble about it. Miss Baby's teeth will come all
in good time. I shouldn't wonder if she has several dear little pearls
in her mouth to show you before Christmas. Don't you remember that day
when we were talking about her teeth, I told you how yours had come, one
after the other, and that they used to hurt you sometimes."
Mary's face cleared at this.
"Oh, yes," she said, "I 'amember. Does everybody's teeth come like
that? Doesn't any babies have them all ready?"
"No," said nurse; "why, even the Perrys' baby that's more than a year
old hasn't got all its teeth yet, and it can't say many words. Don't
you trouble, Miss Mary, the teeth and the talking will come all right.
There now," as little Dolly looked up with a crow in nurse's smiling
face, "Miss Baby knows all about it, you see!"
Mary put her arms round baby and gave her another big hug.
"Oh, you dear little sweet!" she said. "Oh, nurse, I do think she's got
such lots of things to tell me if only she could speak!"
Baby gave a little chuckle as much as to say, "No fear, I'll talk fast
enough before long;" and Mary, who was rather like an April day, set off
laughing so much that she did not hear steps coming along the terrace
till a voice said, quite close to her--
"Well, Mary, darling, what are you and baby so merry about?"
It was mamma. Mary looked at her, and then mamma saw that her eyes were
red.
"It's all right now ma'am," said nurse, for she knew that mamma was
wondering what was the matter even though she had not asked; so mamma
went on to tell them what she had come out about, for she knew that when
Mary had had a fit of crying the tears were rather ready to come back
again if anything more was said about her troubles.
"Nurse," she said, "I want you to dress Miss Mary as quickly as possible
after her dinner. I'm going to take her a drive with me--quite a long
drive; I'm going to the town to choose a perambulator for baby."
"Oh, mamma!" said Mary in great delight, "how lovely! And may I get
into the p'ram-bilator to see if it's comfor'ble for baby?"
"Yes," said mamma, "though a tight fit for you will be all right for
baby. And I've other things to buy as well! You've got a list ready
for me, nurse, haven't you? I'm quite sure the boys need new boots, and
wasn't there something about a sash for Mary?"
"She wouldn't be the worse for another blue one, ma'am," said nurse.
"Her papa always likes her in blue."
"Ah! well, I won't forget about it. I like her in blue best too. And
baby--doesn't she want anything?" asked mamma.
Of course she did, ever so many things. I never knew a baby that did
not want a lot of things--or a baby's nurse perhaps we should say--when
there was a chance. Ribbons to tie up its sleeves, and little shoes and
tiny socks, and some very fine kind of soap that would not make its soft
skin smart, and more things than I can remember. Babies have plenty of
wants, though they are such small people. And mamma wrote them all
down, saying each aloud as she did so, and Mary stood listening with a
very grave face. For she thought to herself, "Just _supposing_ mamma
lost the paper or couldn't read all the pencil words, or forgot to write
down everything, it would be a very good thing for _her_ to know them
all and 'amind mamma."
Soon it was time to go in to dinner, and Mary was so full of the thought
of going to the town with mamma, that at first she sat with her spoon
and fork in her hands, looking at her plate without eating at all.
"Why don't you eat your dinner, Mary?" said Leigh.
"My nungryness has gone away with thinking of going out with mamma and
buyin' such lotses of things," said Mary.
"How silly you are!" said Leigh. "Why, when I've something nice to
think of, it makes me all the hungrier! If you don't eat your dinner, I
don't believe mamma will take you."
"Yes, Miss Mary, you must eat it," said nurse. "You'll be later than
usual of getting your tea, too, so you should make an extra good
dinner."
Mary did not feel as if she _could_ be hungry, but she did not want to
be left behind, so she began to try to eat, and after one or two
mouthfuls it got rather easier. Nurse went on talking, for she knew the
less Mary thought about not being hungry the better it would be.
"Perhaps your mamma, will let you bring home a nice bagful of buns for
tea," she said. "That would be a treat for Master Leigh and Master
Artie, to make up for their not going to the town too."
"I don't want to go," said Leigh. "I hate shopping. It's such
rubbish--taking half an hour to choose things you could settle about in
half a minute. Of course I suppose it's different for women and girls."
Nurse smiled a little.
"Have you nothing for Miss Mary to get for you?" she said.
"What shops are you going to?" asked Leigh.
"Are you going to the confectioner's?" asked Artie.
Mary was not quite sure what the confectioner's was. You see, she did
not often see shops, as the children's home was quite in the country.
But she knew Leigh would laugh at her if she asked, so she just said--
"We're going to all the shops there is, I think. We're going to buy
Baby Dolly's p'ram-bilator."
She got rather red as she spoke; but Leigh did not notice it, for he was
very much interested by this news.
"To buy the p'rambulator," he repeated. "Oh, I say--I wouldn't mind
going to choose that! But I couldn't stand the rest of the shopping.
Mary--" and he hesitated.
"What?" said Mary.
"There's one thing I want, if you think you could choose it for me; it's
a pair of reins. I've got money to pay for them--plenty; so you can
tell mamma if she'll pay them in the shop, she can take the money out of
my best purse that she keeps for me, when she comes home. They'll cost
about--" he stopped again, for he really did not know.
"Do you mean red braid ones, Leigh, like my old ones with the bells on?"
asked Artie.
"No, of course not. I want regular good strong leather ones--proper
ones, d'you hear, Mary?"
"Yes," said Mary, "I'm listenin'."
"Well, look here then; they must be of nice brown leather, and you must
pull it well to be sure it's strong. And they must have a kind of
front-piece, stiff, you know, that they are fastened to, or perhaps they
cross over it, I'm not sure. And they must be about as long as from me,
where I'm sitting now, to where Artie is. And if you can't get them
nice in one shop, you must ask mamma to let you go to another, and you
mustn't be in a hurry to just take the first ones they show you. You
must _choose_ well, Mary, and--"
"Don't take half an hour about it when half a minute would do," said
nurse, in rather an odd voice.
Leigh grew very red.
"Nurse," he said, "reins are very pertickler things to get. Leather
things have to be _good_, you know."
"And so have silk things and cotton things and all the other things that
ladies take so long to shop about," said nurse. "But, I'm sure poor
dear Miss Mary's head will never hold all the explaining you've been
giving her. If you take my advice, Master Leigh, you'll run off to your
mamma and tell her what you want and settle about the price and
everything. She will be just finishing luncheon, I should think. It
was to be early to-day."
Leigh thought it a good idea, and did as nurse proposed. Mary was very
glad not to have to remember all about the reins; her little head was
full enough already. She was looking quite pale with excitement when
nurse began to dress her in her best things to go out with her mamma.
But it was very interesting to have all her Sunday things on on a
week-day, and by the time she was ready--her best boots buttoned and her
little white silk gloves drawn on, and her fair curls, nicely brushed,
hanging down under her big straw hat, which had white bows and tufty
feathers at one side--Mary's face had grown rosier again.