A LITTLE CROSS.
At three o'clock, Mary joined Aunt Mandy and her little sisters at the
convent gate. The old nurse watched her in surprise as she came down the
walk, her feet lagging instead of skipping and dancing in their usual
manner. However, Aunt Mandy said nothing until Mary made no offer to
push the baby carriage, a thing which she had never failed to do.
Instead, she asked if she might put her little suit-case in the
carriage.
"What's de mattah, honey chile? Did de Sistah done gib ma bressed lamb a
scoldin' dis aftahnoon?"
"No, Aunt Mandy, she gave me a lovely holy picture of Blessed Mother for
staying at the head of the class in spelling all week. I am just
tired--that's all--my arms and every bit of me. It is so warm that my
head aches."
"_Wahm_, honey! Why, dis yeah chile had to go back in de house to git
her li'l shawl. It's a right putty day on de sunny side ob de street,
but mighty chilly in de shade. Did yo' eat de apple and de li'l
sandwiches what yo' ma done gibbed yo' fo' recess? Yo' nebah teched
nuffin fo' lunch."
"I couldn't eat them, Aunt Mandy, but I took three drinks of water and
three more on my way out just now. I have been so thirsty all day."
"Huh! I done told yo' ma dat all dis book larnin' ud be de def ob yo'
yet. De bery idea ob sendin' a li'l gal lak yo' is to school!"
"Why, Aunt Mandy, there are ever so many little girls younger than I am
at the convent. Some of them are only five."
"Laws a massy! Why, honey, dey's nuffin but babies! _Babies!_ An' dat's
all yo' is yo' own self. Wait twell yo's as ole as I is, honey chile.
Eben yo' ma seems lak a li'l gal to me. 'Tain't no time sence I done
toted her round in ma ahms same's I'se doin' now wif dese yeah bressed
lambs. I nebah had no book larnin', t'ank de good Lawd! an' I'se libbed
longah dan mos' folks what did, an' I 'spects to keep on libbin' fo' a
long time yit, I sahtinly does! Ma muddah an' gran'muddah bofe wuz moah
dan a hund'ed an' ten when dey ups and died on ma hands. Yo'
great-gran'muddah wah eighty; but sho', dat's nuffin! I'se past sebenty
ma own self. Nebah yo' mind, honey, we's gwine to be home soon, an' den
yo' kin go to bed an' git a good sleep. Hol' on to ma ahm, honey chile.
Dat'll holp a li'l."
Aunt Mandy made up her mind then and there to give Mrs. Selwyn some
advice on the school question. She had been a servant in the family
since she was twelve years of age; and while always respectful, she
still looked on "Miss Lisbuf" and "Massa Frank" as mere children, and
did not hesitate to speak her mind freely to them.
That evening, she was at the front door to meet Doctor Carlton, who
listened kindly to her account of the homeward walk, and then hastened
up to Mary's room. One of his first questions was, "Have any of the
children in your class been absent?"
"Hazel hasn't been in school all week nor her little brother, either.
Marian has been out a few days, too."
"Hm! You play with those little girls a great deal, do you not?"
"Oh, yes, Uncle, and we sit near one another in the classroom, too; and
sometimes Sister lets us sit two in a seat to help each other."
"I see. Well, try to sleep a little while, pet," and down to the
telephone went the Doctor. He soon returned to Mary's bedside, and in
his own jolly way began, "So you are not content to follow the styles in
dress, but must take up with everything going, I see."
"_You_ know that I never bother about styles, Uncle. I just wear
whatever mother gets for me," said Mary, with a tired little smile.
"Well, you are very much in style just now. I have been talking with
Mrs. Burns and Mrs. Lee, and they tell me that Hazel and her brother and
Marian have measles."
Mary gave a pitiful cry.
"And I have them, too, Uncle? And will I have to be sent away somewhere?
But I will go--I will do anything to keep the darling babies from
catching them, and--and--don't let Mother come _near_ me! I want
her--oh, I do want her! but she mustn't come on account of the babies."
"There, there, pet, you haven't the small-pox! Who has said anything
about sending you away? Of course, Mother must not be with you, just as
you say, nor Aunt Mandy, either; but Father and I shall come in to see
you very often----"
"But you might carry the measles to the babies----"
"Oh, we shall go out and run around the block after our visits to you;
so don't worry any more about it. I shall get the very best nurse I
know. All my little patients who have had her to take care of them, love
her very much."
"But can't I be moved to the little back room so as to be as far away
from the babies as I can be?"
"An idea popped into my head as I came up from the telephone. I am glad
now that Mother insisted on giving the third floor a house-cleaning two
weeks ago, though, at the time, I did not enjoy being ordered to clear
out my old den up there. That big front room had been my private
property since my twelfth birthday, and the treasures which I had
hoarded there would make a junkman happy. Of course, I had not been near
the room for years, and it was high time that I should put things in
order. So I spent several evenings destroying more than I saved.
"Out of curiosity, I went up there last Sunday, and what do you think?
But I suppose you have seen it for yourself. I thought I was in the
wrong house when I saw my old den dressed up in pale blue walls and
white woodwork. It seems to me that is the very room in which to get
over measles quickly, and you will have no reason to worry about the
babies. The third floor is not an attic, you know, though it has always
been used for storing away old things. It is what is called a mansard
roof."
"I wouldn't mind if it _were_ an attic, Uncle. I should much rather live
in an attic all my life than have any harm come to the babies."
"I am sure you would, pet. Now, I shall send Debby to dust and air the
room, and you may lie on the couch in my room while Tom and I carry up
your bed."
In less than a half hour, the little patient was comfortably settled in
the "hospital," as the Doctor playfully called his old den. He had the
next room fitted up for the nurse; but as she could not come before
morning, he occupied it himself that night.
It was a great surprise to the little girl when, just after breakfast
the next day, he ushered the nurse into the room. Mary had expected a
white-gowned, white-capped young lady--not a smiling, rosy-cheeked,
little Sister, wearing a big white apron over her black habit and a
long, pale blue veil.
"You wear our Blessed Mother's colors, too; don't you, Sister?" was
Mary's first remark after she and Sister Julia had been introduced.
"Oh, by the way, Sister," the Doctor paused in the doorway, "there is
one thing of great importance which I must ask you to remember, please.
Any colors but blue and white have a very bad effect on this
patient--yellow in particular. Please see that she closes her eyes while
you give her the medicine and, above all, orange-ade. A few drops of
wash-bluing in the water might help matters," and he was gone before
Mary could say a word.
The little girl soon learned to love her nurse very much; and, though
she sorely missed her mother, Sister Julia's beautiful stories kept her
from becoming too lonely.
"No wonder your little patients love to have Sister Julia take care of
them, Uncle," she said that evening when he came up to sit with her
while the nurse went to her dinner. "I could lie here all day and
listen to her stories--_true_ stories about our Lord and Blessed Mother
and the Saints, and about children she has taken care of--some of them
so poor that they didn't have enough to eat or clothes to keep them
warm. But Sister knows a good, kind doctor who took care of them while
they were sick and gave them medicine and fruit all for nothing; and he
told the Saint Vincent de Paul Society about them; so they are getting
along better now.
"I am going to ask Mother not to buy that blue velvet coat and hat for
me that she was looking at when we were down town last Saturday, but to
give the money to some poor family instead. The white ones I had last
winter are perfectly good, and Mother can have them dyed if she would
like me to have blue things this year. They can dye white any color, you
know. Hazel has a beautiful red dress trimmed with tiny, black velvet
ribbon; and when I told her how pretty it is, she said that it is an old
white tennis skirt of her mother's dyed. There is another thing that I
would like to do; but I don't know--would you--do you mind what I do
with that five dollar gold piece you gave me for my birthday, Uncle?"
"Do I mind, pet? Of course I do not mind! You are to do exactly what you
please with that money. I gave it to you just to see what you _would_ do
with it. You have never handled any money of your own, except a few
pennies."
"But I didn't need to buy anything when you and Father were always
giving me things--even pretty pencils for school. But there is something
that I would like to buy now. You can tell me whether it is just the
best thing to get for those poor, sick children. I might have asked
Sister Julia, but she was reading her prayer book when I thought of it."
"Let me hear what you have in mind for them."
"I think it would be nice to send each of them a little blooming plant.
It would last ever so much longer than cut flowers, and they could watch
it grow and see the new flowers come out. See that chrysanthemum on the
window sill? Mr. Daniel at Maryvale sent it in to me this morning; and
the sun made two buds blossom right out."
"It is a beautiful plant. I have been wondering where it came from, but
you have not given me a chance to ask. As for your little plan, it is
an excellent one and will make several little folks, who never see so
much as a dandelion, very happy indeed."
Thinking of others who had never known the blessings with which her own
life was overflowing, and planning with her father and uncle to bring a
little sunshine into their cheerless homes, Mary did not find the days
of her illness so very, very long. She was doing so well that everyone
in the house was looking forward to having her once more among them; and
she herself was counting the hours until she could again be with her
mother and little sisters.