tugging to get away. "She's just _horrid_!" asserted Alan, trying to
wriggle out of Phil's grasp. "I just wish she'd go an' live in some
other house, and never come back;" while between his sobs Judge drawled
out pertly: "She thinks she can treat us like anything 'cause nurse
isn't here to take our part. She won't let us do one single thing, an'
she's just as cross as an old cat--so _now_!"
"I am, eh?" cried Nora, indignantly. "Well, like it or not, you
will have to obey me. Go upstairs at once,--both of you! _Make_
them go, Phil!"
I felt awfully sorry for them,--you see I know Nora is a nagger, she
tries it on me sometimes; but they _were_ making a horrible din. Fee
looked very white; he lay with one arm folded over his eyes; and to make
matters worse, in walked Betty. "Kathie has started crying, and I can't
stop her," she announced, as she got in the doorway. "I'm afraid Mädel
will be off in a few minutes, too, if we don't quiet Kathie; hadn't I
better call Nannie?"
"Who is taking my name in vain?" said a voice that we were all glad
to hear, and there was Nannie herself, smiling at us over Betty's
shoulder.
XIII.
THROUGH THE SHADOW.
TOLD BY JACK.
Well, it was astonishing how things quieted down after that. Phil let go
the boys, and with a shout of delight they rushed up to Nannie, and just
threw themselves on her; with an arm round each, she went straight to
Fee's side: "Why, Felix, are you ill? My dear, is it your back again?"
As she spoke she laid her hand on his forehead, and then stroked his
hair back.
"Yes," Fee said wearily, closing his eyes; "my back--and the _noise_!"
"Come, boys, we'll go up to the nursery and get ready for dinner. Nurse
has to stay with poor papa, so I'm going to give you your dinner; and of
course I want my little knights to be on their best behaviour for the
occasion." Nannie drew them, still hanging on to her, toward the door.
"Oh, yes, and _do_ stop Kathie, if you can," put in Betty. "Mädel
accidentally rocked the charger on Kathie's pet doll's head and smashed
it, and she's just _howled_ ever since. Do listen!"
Sure enough, we could all hear a long, mournful wail; then another and
another; if there's one thing Kathie does well, it's crying.
"What! Esmeralda Dorothea? Poor Kathie!" said Nannie; "I don't wonder
she feels badly. Come, boys, we'll go up and see if we can comfort her."
The boys looked quite jubilant! holding on to Nannie's hand, Alan threw
a defiant glance at Nora as he passed her, and Judge quoted in his slow,
droll way: "'My _dear_ dolly's dead! She died of a hole in her head!'"
"Instead of petting those boys, Nannie, you ought to punish them well,
or give them a good scolding!" cried Nora. "They have both been
exceedingly rude and disobedient to me."
Nannie looked grieved, and the boys immediately began making excuses,
which Nannie heard in silence. When they had finished, she said: "We are
going upstairs to get ready for dinner, Nonie; but after that, when we
are all sweet and clean, these two little men will, I am sure, come to
you and ask you to overlook this afternoon's behaviour. I can't think
that they really meant to be rude or disobedient to sister Nora."
Nora tossed her head, but said nothing until Nannie had gone upstairs;
then she remarked: "It's outrageous the way Nannie spoils the children;
did you see the impertinent look Alan gave me as he went by? You will
see they won't apologise,--I know they won't;" and then she, too, walked
out of the room.
But they did apologise, all the same, and very soon after, too.
"Like oil on troubled waters! What a blessing that Nannie belongs to
this family!" Phil said, when we three were alone again.
"Ay, thank God for her!" answered Felix, fervently; and I felt like
saying so too. Really, I don't know what we'd do without Nannie to keep
the peace. It isn't that we don't love one another, for we do, dearly,
and we just _love_ to be together, too; but somehow, somebody or other's
sure to get into a discussion, or a fuss, or a regular quarrel, if
Nannie isn't on hand to smooth things down. I don't know how it is, but
she can get us to do things that we wouldn't do for any one else, and it
isn't because she coaxes, for she doesn't always; sometimes she speaks
right square out, and doesn't mince matters either,--but even then we
don't mind. I mean it doesn't hurt as it would from somebody else. Felix
says it's because she has tact, and Betty says it's because she loves us
an awful lot. _I_ think perhaps it's both.
[Illustration: "'THESE TWO LITTLE MEN WILL, I AM SURE, COME TO YOU AND
ASK YOU TO OVERLOOK THIS AFTERNOON'S BEHAVIOUR.'"]
Well, those next two weeks were just _awful_! Seems now as if they'd
been a tremendous long nightmare. There was Fee in bed upstairs he
didn't get up or stand on his feet for nearly ten days,--he couldn't,
you know, his legs wouldn't hold him up, though I rubbed and rubbed them
every night till I was so tired, I felt as if I'd drop. Of course I
didn't let Fee know how tired I got over it, 'cause then he wouldn't
have let me rub 'em so long, and I did want to do it thoroughly.
At first Fee hadn't a bit of feeling in his legs; but gradually it came
back, and at last one afternoon he managed to stand on his feet, holding
on to me and the furniture,--his cane wasn't any good at all at
first,--and I tell you he used to press hard, though he didn't know it.
You see he was anxious to be all right as soon as he possibly could,
'cause the others began to think 'twas queer he stayed in bed so long if
it was nothing but his back, and he didn't want them to know what the
trouble was; and besides, he felt all the time that he should be up and
helping take care of papa: there was a good deal to do, though the nurse
was there, for the doctor said papa shouldn't be left alone for even a
minute. So they were all very busy and anxious, or they would certainly
have noticed what a long time I stayed in Fee's room every afternoon,
and perhaps have suspected something.
Phil was the one Fee said he was most afraid would find out, but he was
a good deal in papa's room in the afternoons, and evenings he was
studying, 'cause his exams, were coming on, though sometimes he went for
long walks with Chad. Chad was very often at the house at this time, but
he never went in to see Fee; and after the first or second time I didn't
tell Fee, for he doesn't like Chad, and I could see he didn't want Phil
and Chad to be together without his being there too. We don't any of us
care very much for Chad,--not half or even a quarter as much as we do
for Hilliard; even Betty has to admit that, for all she makes such fun
of Hill's slow ways. You see Chad puts on such silly airs, pretending
he's a grown-up man, when really he's only a boy,--he's only a year
older than Phil. And then he talks so much about his money, and wears
_diamonds_,--rings and pins and buttons,--fancy! As Betty says, nice men
and boys don't wear diamonds like that.
Betty is awfully rude to Chad sometimes; she calls him Monsieur le
Don_key_, and Dresden-china-young man, and laughs at him almost to his
face. I should think he'd get mad, but he just ignores her. In fact, the
only one he shows any attention to is Nora; he's all the time bringing
her flowers, and talking to her in his affected way, and lately he has
begun to be very friendly with Phil, though I'm not sure that Phil cares
very much in return,--he's so short with Chad sometimes.
But, dear me! all this isn't what I started to say; I was telling you
about those awful nightmare weeks. Well, to go back, there was Fee in
bed upstairs, just as brave-hearted as he could be, but getting thinner
and paler every day; and there was papa in the extension--he's slept
down there ever since dear mamma died--in bed too, and desperately ill.
The doctor came two and three and four times a day, and the house was
kept as still as could be; we just stole through the halls, and scurried
up the stairs like so many mice, so's not to make any noise, and because
the constant muttering that we could hear from the sick-room made us
feel so badly,--at least it did us older ones, the younger children
didn't understand.
Papa doesn't usually say very much; but now he was out of his head, and
he just talked the whole time, and loud, so one couldn't help hearing
what he said. 'Twas about the Fetich; he called it "my book," and
scolded himself because he couldn't work faster on it, so's to sell it.
I tell you what, that just broke Betty and Phil all up! Then he'd seem
to forget that, and begin about walking in the country with mamma,
through fields full of flowers and trees and "babbling brooks,"--that's
what he called 'em, and quoted poetry about them all. He never once
spoke of us; it was always "Margaret, Margaret!" sometimes in a glad
voice, as if he were very happy, and sometimes in a sad, wailing sort
of way, that brought a great lump into our throats.
Nannie had to be in papa's room most all of every day,--the nurse said
he got very restless when she wasn't around,--and as he kept getting
worse and worse, she was in there lots of nights, too. Her lessons, and
all the other things, had to just go, and we hardly saw her except for a
little while now and then, when she ran up to sit with Felix and tell
him about how papa was getting on.
After a while she began to look a little pale, and her eyes got real big
and bright; but she never once said she was tired, and it never occurred
to any of us--you see we were all worked up over papa--until one day Max
spoke of it to Felix: he said Nannie was just killing herself, and got
so sort of excited over it--Max isn't one of the excitable kind--that
Fee started in to worry about Nannie. It was when he had just begun to
walk about a little, and he was wild to go right down and take Nannie's
place in the sick-room. But he couldn't, you know; why, 'twas as much as
he could do to barely stand on his feet and get round holding on to the
furniture. Then, when he realised that, he got disheartened, and called
himself a "useless hulk," and all sorts of horrid names, and was just as
cranky as he could be; but I felt so sorry for him that I didn't mind.
Poor old Fee!
Well, from day to day papa got more and more ill; the fever kept right
on and he was awfully weak, and at last he fell into a stupor. That day
Dr. Archard hardly left our house for even an hour, and the other
physicians just went in and out all the time. Max was there, too,--he
almost lived at our house those weeks, taking all the night watching
they'd let him, and doing all he could for papa and us,--and about seven
o'clock that evening he came up to the schoolroom, where we older ones
were. Dr. Archard had told Phil, and he had told us, that a change would
come very soon,--papa would either pass from that stupor into a sleep
which might save his life, or he would go away from us, as our dear
mother had gone.
No one of us was allowed to stay in the sick-room but Nannie, and she
had promised to let us know the minute the change came; so we five and
Max were waiting in the schoolroom, longing and yet just dreading what
Nannie might have to tell us.
It was a glorious afternoon: the sun had just gone down, and from where
we sat--close together--we could see through the windows the sky, all
rose-colour and gold, with long streaks here and there of the most
exquisite pale blue and green; and soft, white, fleecy clouds that kept
changing their shape every minute. When I was little and heard that
anybody we knew was dead, I used to sit in one of our schoolroom
windows and watch the sunset, to see the angels taking the soul up to
heaven,--- I thought that was the way it went up; I could almost always
make out the shape of an angel in the clouds, and I'd watch with all my
eyes till every speck of it had melted away, before I'd be willing to
leave the window. Of course I really know better than that now, but this
afternoon as we all sat there so sad and forlorn, looking at the skies,
there came in the clouds the shape of a most beautiful large angel,
all soft white, and with rosy, outspread wings, and I couldn't help
wondering if God was sending an angel for papa's soul, or if he would
let mamma come for it--she loved him so dearly!
Betty saw the angel, too, for she nudged my elbow and whispered softly,
"Oh, Jack, look!"
Just then we heard a step outside, the door flew open, and Nannie came
in; her face was pale, but her eyes were wide opened and shining, and
when she spoke her voice rang out joyfully: "Oh, my dears, my dears!"
she cried, stretching out her arms to us, "God is good to us,--papa is
asleep! He will live!" Then, before anybody could say a word, she got
very white, and threw out her hand for the back of Fee's chair; Phil
sprang to catch her, but like a flash Max was before him. Taking Nannie
right up in his arms, as if she'd been a little child, Max went over
and laid her on the sofa, then knelt down by her, and began rubbing one
of her hands.
Phil flew for nurse, Nora for a fan, Betty for water, and I caught up
Nannie's other hand and began rubbing it, though I could scarcely reach
it from where I stood almost behind Max. I could hear Fee's chair
scraping the floor as he hitched himself along toward us.
Max stopped rubbing and began smoothing the loose, curly pieces of
Nannie's hair off her forehead. "Dear little Nancy Lee!" I heard him
say; and then, "My brave little--" I lost that word, for Nannie opened
her eyes just then, and looked up at him with a far-off, wondering look;
then the lids fell again, and she lay perfectly still, while Max and I
rubbed away at her hands.
In a minute or two the others came trooping in with nurse and the things
they'd gone for, and pretty soon Nannie was much better. She sat up and
looked at us with a smile that just lighted up her whole face,--I think
Nannie is so pretty! "What a goose I was to faint!" she said, "when we
have such _good_ news! Oh, isn't it splendid, _splendid_! that papa will
get well!" Then in a minute--before we knew what she was about--she was
kneeling by Felix, with her arms round his neck, crying and sobbing as
if her heart would break.
And what d'you think! in about two minutes more, if we weren't every
one of us crying, too! I don't mean out loud, you know,--though Nora and
Betty did,--but all the same we all knew we were doing it. Phil laid his
arms on the schoolroom table and buried his face in them, Fee put his
face down in Nannie's neck, and I was just _busy_ wiping away the tears
that would come pouring down; nurse threw her apron over her face and
went out in the hall, and Max walked to the window and stood there
clearing his throat. And yet we were all _very_, _very_ glad and happy;
queer, wasn't it?
XIV.
A MISSION OF THREE.
TOLD BY JACK.
That was the turning-point, for after that papa began to get better; but
my! so slowly: why, it was days and days, Nannie said, before she could
really see any improvement, he was so dreadfully weak. After a while,
though, he began to take nourishment, then to notice things and to say a
few words to Nannie, and one day he asked the doctor how long 'twould be
before he could get at his writing again.
The evening that Nannie came upstairs and told us about his asking the
doctor this, we held a council. The "kids" were in bed, and Miss Marston
was in her own room, so we had the schoolroom to ourselves; and in about
five minutes after Nannie got through telling us, we were all quite
worked up and all talking at once. You see we didn't want papa to begin
working again on the Fetich as he had done, for Dr. Archard had said
right out that that was what made him ill; and yet we didn't see,
either, how we could prevent it.
"Let's steal the Fetich and bury it in the cellar," proposed Betty,
after a good deal'd been said; "then he _couldn't_ work at it, for it
wouldn't be there, you know."
Her eyes sparkled,--I think she'd have liked no better fun than carrying
off the Fetich; but Phil immediately snubbed her. "Talk sense, or leave
the council," he said so crossly that Nannie put in, "Why, _Phil_!" and
Betty made a horrible face at him.
Then Fee spoke up: "Say, how would it do for us, we three,--you, Phil,
and Betty and I,--to tell the _pater_ how mean we feel about that
beastly joke, and then run through the potential mood in the way of
beseeching, imploring, exhorting him not to slave over his work in the
future as he's been doing in the past months. I have a fancy that Mr.
Erveng has really made him an offer for the book when completed--"
"I'm pretty sure he has, from something Mrs. Erveng said the other day,"
broke in Nora, with a slow nod of her head.
"Well," went on Felix, in an I-told-you-so tone of voice, "and I suppose
the _pater_ thinks we're watching and measuring his progress like so
many hungry hawks, just ready to swoop down and devour him--_ach_!" He
threw out his hands with a gesture of disgust that somehow made us all
feel ashamed, though we weren't all in it, you know.
"That isn't a bad plan," said Nora, presently. "In fact, I think it is
good; only, instead of three of you going at papa about it, why not let
one speak for all? He would be just as likely to listen to one as to
three, and it wouldn't tire him so much,--that's _my_ opinion. What do
you think, Nannie?"
Nannie shook her head dubiously; she was lying on the sofa looking
awfully tired. "I'm not sure that it'll do any good," she answered; "I'm
afraid papa has made up his mind to do just so much work, and he likes
to carry out his intentions, you know. But I'd speak all the same," she
added, "for I think he felt dreadfully cut up over that Fetich affair,
and this will show him, anyhow, that you all care more for him--his
well-being, I mean--than for the money the book might bring in. I fancy
he has been doubtful of that sometimes. And I agree with Nora that it
would be better for one to speak for the three. He is getting stronger
now, and whoever is to be spokesman might, perhaps, go in to see him for
a few minutes some afternoon this week. Who is it to be,--Phil?"
"Don't ask me to do it!" exclaimed Phil; "_don't_--if you want the
affair to be a success. I feel mortally ashamed of my share in that
joke, and I agree with Felix that _somebody_ ought to speak to the
_pater_ about working so hard, and almost killing himself; but I warn
you that the whole thing will be a dead failure if I have the doing of
it. In the first place, he looks so wretchedly now that I can't even
look at him without feeling like breaking down; and with all that, if I
undertook to say to him what I'd have to, why, I'm convinced I'd get
rattled,--make an ass of myself, in fact,--and do no good whatever,--for
that sort of thing always makes him mad. That's just the truth,--'tisn't
that I want to shirk. Why don't you do it, old fellow?" (throwing his
arm across Fee's shoulders), "you always know what to say, and can do it
better than I."
But Fee didn't seem willing either; _I_ think the chief reason was
because he was afraid of the steps,--it's as much as he can do to get
up the one short flight from his floor to the schoolroom, and he gets
awfully nervous and cranky over even that short distance; but of course
the others didn't know that, and he didn't want them to know, and I
couldn't say anything, so everybody was very much surprised: even Nannie
opened her eyes when, after a good deal of urging, he said sharply, "I
am _not_ going to do it, and that settles it!"
I was afraid there'd be a fuss, so I sung out quickly, "Why don't _you_
do it, Betty? You're always saying you're equal to anything."
Well, if you had seen her face, and felt the punch she gave my shoulder!
I declare Betty ought surely to've been a boy; she's entirely too
strong for a girl, and rough. I will say, though, that she's been better
lately; but still she breaks out every now and then, and then she hits
out, perfectly regardless of whether she hurts people or not.
She just glared at me. "_Me!_ _I!_ _I_ go into papa's room and make a
speech to him!" she exclaimed so loudly that Phil reminded her she
needn't roar, as none of us were deaf. "Why, I couldn't, I simply
_couldn't_! I'm just as bad as Phil in a sick-room,--you all know I
am; I'd tumble over the chairs, or knock things off the table, or fall
on the bed, or something horrid, and papa'd have me put out. Then I'm
sure matters would be worse than they are now. 'Tisn't that I'm
_afraid_,"--with a withering glance at me,--"and I _do_ feel awfully
sorry about papa; but all the same, I don't want to be the one to speak
to him about the Fetich,--I don't think it's my place: how much
attention do you suppose he would pay to what _I_'d say?" She fanned
herself vigorously, then added, in a milder tone, "Why not let Felix
draw up a petition, and we could all sign it; then--eh--" with another
withering glance--"_Jack_ could take it in to papa!"
"You're a fine set!" mocked Nora; "all _very_ sorry, _very_ penitent,
all seeing what should be done, but no one willing to do it. You are as
bad as the rats who decided in council that a bell should be placed on
the neck of their enemy, the cat, so that they should always have
warning of her approach; but when it came to deciding on who was to do
the deed, not one was brave enough."
"I suppose you think, as Nora does, that we're a pretty mean set?" Felix
said to Nannie; he ignored Nora's remark, though Phil made a dash for
her with the laughing threat, "Just let me catch you, Miss Nora!"
Nannie sat up and pushed her hair off her forehead; she looked pale
and languid, and when she spoke, her voice sounded tired. "No," she
said, "I don't think you are any of you mean; but I am disappointed:
I like people to have the courage of their convictions, and
particularly you, Fee."
"That's right, give it to us, Nancy,--we deserve it!" shouted Phil,
coming back in triumph with Nora; but Felix coloured up, and, leaning
over, laid his hand on Nannie's arm. "Perhaps if you--" he began
eagerly, but he didn't say the rest, for Max and Hilliard came in just
then, and Nannie got up to speak to them.
That was on a Tuesday evening, and the next afternoon, as I was going
through the hall, Miss Appleton came out of the sick-room and asked if I
would sit with papa for a short time, while she went to the basement to
make some nourishment or something or other. "There is nothing to do but
to sit somewhere about the room, within range of your father's sight,"
she said, as I hesitated a little,--not that I minded, but you see I was
rather nervous for fear I might be asked to do things that I didn't know
how to. "I won't be long, and I don't think he will need anything until
I return."
[Illustration: "MISS APPLETON ... ASKED IF I WOULD SIT WITH PAPA FOR A
SHORT TIME."]
Nannie was lying down with a headache, and nurse, Miss Marston, and the
others were away upstairs; Phil had not yet come home; so I said, "Very
well," and walked in.
Papa was lying in bed, and he did look awful!--white and thin! He put
out his hand as I went up to the bed, and said with a little smile,
"Why, it is Jack! how do you do, my dear?" then he drew me down and
kissed me. I would _love_ to have told him how very, _very_ glad I was
that he was better, but I choked up so I couldn't get out a word. I just
stood there hanging on to his hand, until he drew it away and said,
"Take a seat until the nurse returns."
Miss Appleton had told me to sit where papa could see me, so I took a
chair that somebody had left standing near the foot of the bed, and in
full view of him.
It was very quiet in the room after that; papa lay with his eyes
closed, and I could see how badly he looked. He was very pale,--kind of
a greyish white,--his eyes were sunk 'way in, and there were quite big
hollows in his temples and his cheeks. I wondered if he knew that he
had nearly died, and that we had prayed for him in church; then I
thought of the figure of the angel that we'd seen in the clouds that
afternoon in the schoolroom, and of the Beautiful City--"O mother dear,
Jerusalem"--where everything is lovely and everybody so happy, and I
wondered again if papa were sorry or glad that he was going to get
better. You see he would have had dear mamma there, and been with the
King "in His felicity;" but then he wouldn't have had the Fetich or
his books!
Suddenly papa opened his eyes and looked at me. "Jack," he said,
"suppose you take another seat,--over there behind the curtain. I
will call you if I need anything."
He told Nannie afterward--and she told me, so I shouldn't do it
again--that I'd "stared him out of countenance." I was awfully sorry; I
wouldn't have done such a rude thing for the world, you know,--I didn't
even know I was doing it; but, as I've told you before, when I'm alone
with papa, I somehow just _have_ to look and look at him.