A Sister by Adoption
GERTRUDE moved about the house with a sense of unreality about her. It
could not be true, she told herself, that her father lay sleeping his
last long sleep in the next room, while her mother was lying too ill to
know or care what became of the family in this sad time.
It could not be true, but only a bad dream from which she would wake
presently; only meanwhile she must do her best for the helpless
children, who had no one to look to but herself.
Oh, why was life so hard, so very hard, for some people, when others
found existence so delightfully easy?
It was her mother she had come home from Bratley to nurse; but it was
her father, after all, who had needed her most.
She had not realized that he was ill until the morning when he could not
get up; then, when Dr. Shaw came to see him, the truth fell on to her as
a crushing blow that he was slipping out of life.
When he died, Flossie had besought her to send for Nell; but,
remembering Nell’s battered condition, Gertrude would not even write to
tell her of the sorrow which had come to them.
“We must bear our troubles ourselves, Flossie; we can’t always expect
other people to stagger along under our burdens,” she said, when the
little sister pleaded so hard for Nell to be sent for.
“But we are not bearing the troubles ourselves; I mean, other people are
helping us. See how kind Dr. Shaw has been, and Mrs. Higgs, and Miss
Trotman. Only all the time I feel as if there is no one who could
comfort us like Nell,” said Flossie. She forbore to press the matter,
because Gertrude looked so worried.
There were more troubles for the elder sister to face just then than the
sickness and death which invaded the house. Monetary difficulties were
staring her in the face, and she was quite shocked to find how poor her
father had become in that last hard year of his life.
A mortgage had been raised on the property, or rather it had been
increased, and bills were owing which Gertrude had supposed to have been
paid long ago. Then the stock on the farm had been seriously
diminished—a horse had died; two had been sold. The yearling cattle had
also been sold; only weaning calves and milking cows remained on the
place.
“But there is the corn; that is worth a good bit, isn’t it, Patsey?” she
asked, with a little shiver, when she and the boy were discussing the
situation on the day before the funeral.
“Not so much as you might think. Besides, if we sell the corn, what are
we going to live on, or how shall we keep the cattle and the pigs
through the winter?” Patsey asked, lifting his tear-stained face to look
at her for a moment, then letting his gaze drop to the floor again.
“I wonder whatever we shall do? If only you were two or three years
older we might rub along easily, but I know so little about farming,”
she said, with a sigh.
“I hate farming!” exclaimed the boy, vehemently; then looked heartily
ashamed of his outburst.
But Gertrude only slid her arm round his neck and laid her head down on
his shoulder.
“I hate it too,” she said softly; “but we must not think of ourselves
just now, Patsey; mother and the children stand first, you know.”
“Yes, I know; and I’ll do just whatever you tell me, Gertrude. I
promised father I would the night before he died,” Patsey answered. And
he set his teeth hard, because he did not want to be caught shedding
tears in public.
“The trouble is, I can see no way out of the tangle myself. It is quite
possible we may have to sell the farm, only I don’t see how we are going
to get a living for mother and the children if we do,” Gertrude said.
“What is that?” asked Patsey, lifting his head with a jerk.
The two were in the family sitting-room, with the outer door open,
although the window was shrouded with drawn blinds. The boy’s sharp ears
had caught the sound of wheels coming up the field, and he half rose to
his feet to go and see who was coming, then changed his mind and sank
back on his seat once more.
“Perhaps it is Dr. Shaw; he said he might look in this evening and see
how mother was going on. Run, Patsey, and open the gate for him; it will
save him from having to get down,” said Gertrude.
Patsey darted off like the wind; it was a huge relief to him to run,
only, with the solemn presence of death in the home, it had seemed
almost improper to move beyond a slow walk.
Mrs. Lorimer was being watched over by Flossie for a little while, and a
kindly neighbour had taken the two youngest children home with her, to
be out of the way until the funeral was over.
Gertrude gathered up one or two things, which were lying about the room,
with that instinct of tidiness which is second nature to some people.
She heard the doctor’s voice greet Patsey; then heard the gate bang and
the wheels come on to the house and stop. Then she was startled by
hearing a familiar voice saying—
“I can get down myself, thank you. I have one hand, you know.”
“It is Nell!” she exclaimed. She hurried to the door just in time to see
Nell holding to the side of the doctor’s trap with her one sound hand
and dismounting after a fashion of her own.
“Yes, I have come. I just had to when I heard what was the matter, and
it is of no use for you to send me away, because I will not go,” she
said, with a low laugh which ended in a sob.
“I am too thankful to have you here even to wish you away,” Gertrude
answered, with a sudden relief at her heart, for it seemed to her that
nothing could be quite so hard to bear now that Nell had come to share
the burdens with her.
Nell entered the house with very mingled feelings. She had been so happy
here with the children last winter, that it was impossible not to feel
joyful at coming back, only the shadow and the sorrow pulled the other
way, and she was quite ready to weep with those who wept and to share in
the sadness which oppressed the others.
The doctor went straight into Mrs. Lorimer’s room, where he whispered a
word in Flossie’s ear which brought the child limping out to the
sitting-room in a great hurry, where she cast herself into Nell’s arms
and nestled there in a speechless welcome which was eloquent beyond the
power of words to express.
Gertrude had followed the doctor into her mother’s room, and Patsey was
outside with the doctor’s horse, so the two were alone.
“Nell, we’ve wanted you so badly,” sighed poor Flossie, whose small
white face had an unchildlike look which made Nell’s heart ache.
“I came directly I knew,” she answered, in a low tone.
“I was sure you would; but Gertrude would not write, because she said
you were not well enough to come. Who told you about it?” she asked.
“Dr. Shaw wrote to Mrs. Nichols to ask her if I were fit to come. I did
not know about it until the evening, because I was away at Camp’s Gulch
all day; but I started by the early cars this morning, and I’m going to
stay as long as you need me,” Nell answered, in a low, soothing tone, as
she gently rocked the little girl in her arm.
“Then you will stay for always, because I need you all the time, dear
big, strong, sweet sister Nell!” murmured the child; and to Nell the
words were the sweetest she had heard for many a year, and the knowledge
that someone wanted her brought a flood of happiness to her heart.
They had plenty of time for confidences, for the doctor was a long while
with Mrs. Lorimer; Gertrude also remained in the sick-room, and Patsey
was walking the horse slowly up and down the meadow in front of the
house.
“We are dreadfully poor now, Nell; did you know?” Flossie asked, with a
pucker of anxiety pinching her small face into lines of pain.
“A little about it; the doctor told me,” she answered, flushing at the
admission, because she fancied Gertrude would not be pleased to think
their poverty was town-talk already.
“Gertrude and Patsey think I don’t know anything about it, and they
won’t talk about money worries in front of me, because they won’t have
me bothered; but they forget that I have been shut up at home while
Gertrude has been away, and so I expect I know more about our being poor
than they do.”
“Never mind, we will find a way out of it somehow. I have got just a
little money of my own now, you know, so I shall be able to help if
matters get serious,” Nell replied, more with the desire of reassuring
Flossie than from any idea that she and the Lorimers would henceforth
make their home together.
But when she went into Mrs. Lorimer’s chamber and saw the poor woman
lying there helpless, she began to realize that circumstances might be
shaping her future in a way she had little expected.
It was not until the funeral was over, and Abe Lorimer had been laid to
rest by the side of his two sons, that she put her thought into words.
Even then she might have waited longer but for the fear of the future
which was weighing Gertrude down.
“You see, it is not only the children that I have to think of and
provide for, but there is mother also to nurse. Dr. Shaw does not say
very much, but it is easy to see how little hope there is of her being
able to do much for a very, very long while,” Gertrude said, with a
careworn look on her face which made her seem years older.
“If we both put our shoulders to the wheel it won’t be so hard, and in a
few years Patsey will be able to help,” Nell replied quietly.
She was dusting the room with her left hand, moving here and there, but
keeping her face turned from Gertrude, who was standing at the stove
making a cup of arrowroot for the invalid.
“What do you mean?” asked Gertrude, blankly.
Nell dropped her duster and wheeled; her face was very pale, and her
breath came in gasps because her heart was beating so fast.
“I mean that I am going to help to bring up the children,” she said, her
words coming out with a firmness and decision which surprised her; but
then, she had to speak in such a downright fashion because so much was
at stake. “I have been so lonely, with no one to care for or to care for
me in return. I have no brothers and sisters of my own, so I am going to
adopt some; and as I love you all better than any others, I intend
adopting all of you, so there!”
It was impossible to help smiling at this way of putting matters, and
Gertrude laughed in an unsteady fashion just because she could not help
it. Then, putting the saucepan of arrowroot down where it could not boil
over, she turned to protest.
“Nell, it is just like your goodness of heart to suggest such a thing,
and, in truth, we are all very willing to be adopted; but we cannot have
you sacrificing your life in such a fashion. You have it in you to rise
in the world, so you must not be held down and your career spoiled
because of our children.”
“My career, as you are pleased to term it, will not be spoiled, and it
is of no use for you to protest, because I have made up my mind. If you
don’t like to live with me, you can take a situation, or even get
married; but I will stay at home and look after the children,” Nell
answered calmly. Picking up her duster again, she continued her
one-handed performance of tidying the room. Her heart was beating very
fast still, but instinct told her the victory was on her side, and
although Gertrude might continue protesting, she would capitulate in the
end.
“You might want to marry some day yourself,” said Gertrude, flushing a
little, then turning pale again, for there were great renunciations in
her life just then, and the pain of them was sometimes almost more than
she could bear.
“I might, of course. But there is no need to discuss that event until it
becomes probable. Have you any more objections?” she jerked out,
flourishing her duster as if to sweep them away before they could be
uttered.
“A great many; but mother’s arrowroot would be overdone if I stayed to
put them all into words, so I must go. Only, Nell, if you had any idea
of how fearfully poor we really are, you might want to think twice
before adopting us all,” said Gertrude, as she poured the arrowroot into
a cup and walked off with it into her mother’s room.
Nell laughed softly, and her duster went quicker and quicker as she
moved round the room, making plans as she went. There had been so little
time to think things out as yet, but already a scheme was looming up in
her mind which she determined to talk over with Gertrude on the very
first opportunity. It was out of the question to think of keeping on the
farm, since neither she nor Gertrude understood enough of agriculture to
be likely to make the place pay, and it was hopeless to think of raising
the salary of a capable man.
Whatever enterprise they embarked in, it must be something in which they
two could do all the work, with perhaps a little help at odd times from
Patsey and Flossie.
Under the circumstances, it was only natural that the suggestion of Mrs.
Peters should keep recurring to Nell as a possibility that could not now
be ignored. The idea of running a food shop was no pleasanter now than
it had been then; but there was the promise of a living in it. And
putting her own likes and dislikes out of the question, Nell faced the
situation squarely, and decided that the scheme was worth a trial.
So she wrote to Mrs. Peters, asking what the rent of one of the houses
would be, and if she might have the refusal of the first one, waiting
quietly until the answer came to her letter before making any suggestion
to Gertrude.
Mrs. Lorimer lay in a strange apathetic condition, taking little notice
of what went on around her. The doctor did not consider her condition
immediately serious, but he was not hopeful about her recovery; and so
the whole burden of the family rested on Gertrude, or would have done
but for the coming of Nell and her voluntary acceptance of half the
responsibility.
The first thing to be done was to get rid of the farm; but here
difficulties cropped up. Mrs. Lorimer was not, at present, capable of
decisions; her husband had died without making a will; and Gertrude, the
eldest of the family, was still a minor. The doctor advised letting the
farm for a time, and, as the land was in fairly good heart, this was
easily done. But the rent would not be of very much service to the
family, as a large part of it would be needed to pay interest on the
mortgage every year.
By the time this was settled, a letter came back from Mrs. Peters,
saying that Nell could have the house at a moderate rental, that it
would be ready for occupation in a fortnight, and that parties of miners
were arriving at Camp’s Gulch every day, so that there was prospect of
good brisk trade all through the winter.
A little to the surprise of Nell, the scheme found instant favour in the
eyes of Gertrude, who had altered a good deal during those weeks of
heavy trial since coming back from Bratley.
Previously she would have turned up her nose at the idea, and steadily
refused to take to a career which involved so much rough work and
association with so many rough people.
Now she was thankful for the chance of earning a living for those
dependent on her; and the question of personal liking seemed too trivial
for consideration.
The house at Camp’s Gulch was to be taken in Nell’s name, as her two
hundred dollars was their sole available capital. The live stock and
farming implements, with all the crops at Lorimer’s Clearing, were taken
at a valuation by the tenant; but that money was safely lodged in the
bank until Mrs. Lorimer should be well enough to decide how she would
like to have it used.
Then the household furniture was packed; and, leaving Mrs. Lorimer, the
two little boys, and Flossie at the house of a neighbour, Nell,
Gertrude, and Patsey went off to Camp’s Gulch to get the new home ready.
It was the parting from their old associations which brought such gloom
to the faces of Gertrude and Patsey on the morning when they turned
their backs on Lorimer’s Clearing. But Nell was blithe-hearted as a
bird, because at last she had attained to a family and a home of her
own, only for the sake of the others her aspect was sedate, giving no
hint of the gladness within.