THE SHADOW FALLS.
"I s'pose the twinnies have grown ever so much, Father," she remarked
one evening when she was able to sit up in a big arm chair.
"Well, I have not seen Mother letting out any tucks or hems in their
dresses; but," and Mr. Selwyn's eyes danced, "I must admit that they are
somewhat better-looking."
Surely, the little bird _must_ have been at Maryvale that day, and Mary
thought it very strange that she had not caught a glimpse of it. She had
seen some sparrows, robins, and thrushes; but she was quite sure that
the particular little bird of which Aunt Mandy had so often spoken was
different from any of these. It certainly had very large ears to be able
to hear what she had _whispered_ to her aunt when they were sitting at
such a distance from the window. She started at a thought which came to
her.
"Father, have you ever seen the little bird that tells Aunt Mandy so
many things? Do you think it can hear what a person is just _thinking_
about?"
Mr. Selwyn coughed to hide a smile.
"No, dear, I have never seen that particular little bird; and no one but
God knows our thoughts unless we show them in our faces or actions."
"Please take me on your lap, Father, and tell me more about the babies.
Has Beth any hair yet?"
"Only a little soft, yellow down; but Berta's is actually beginning to
turn up at the ends in tiny, silky curls."
"Oh, she must look darling! Just forty-eight hours more--no,
forty-seven, because it is exactly an hour since Uncle was here--and I
can see them both again."
"So Uncle Frank said at dinner. That reminds me--here is a note for you
from Mother."
"Please read it to me, Father. I can't read writing very well, though
Mother tries to make hers plain. Besides, Uncle has asked me not to look
closely at anything until my eyes are stronger. They have been so weak
that I had to ask Sister to keep the shades down. But she thought it
would be too bad to shut out the sunshine; so sometimes she bandaged my
eyes and let the shades roll all the way up to the top.
"Then we played a game something like the little boy who was half-past
three played with his grandmother, only ours was _Blind Man's Buff_. Of
course, I couldn't go catch Sister, but I tried to guess where she was;
and when I guessed right, she was 'it.' Then I would _pretend_ that I
was somewhere, and Sister had to guess. She had a much harder time than
I had, because I could pretend to be up the chimney or on top of the
wardrobe or in ever so many places where I knew she couldn't be when _I_
was 'it.' But please read Mother's letter. She has written to me every
day since I came up here," and the little girl snuggled close to her
father while he read the following:
My Darling,
Uncle has just told us the good news. It will not do you any harm
now to know how much we have missed you. Aunt Mandy said to me
to-day that she cannot understand how you always succeeded in
putting the babies to sleep when she failed to do so; but I think I
know the secret.
The babies are growing more cunning every day. Two or three days
ago, Beth discovered that she has fingers; and this morning when I
was dressing her, she kicked up one little foot and caught hold of
her toes. Then I found Berta holding on to both ears. But I must
not tell you all the surprises we have for you.
I have gone into your room very often. It makes me think of a
pretty nest from which the little bird has flown. But the wings of
my little bluebird are not strong enough to carry her very far
away, so she is coming back to the nest again. I shall give Father
a kiss and a hug to carry to my birdie away up in the treetop.
MOTHER.
"And here are a kiss--and a hug--to carry down to Mother; but before you
give them to her, you must walk around the block to let the wind blow
the measles off of you."
"There, there, dear, you must not exert yourself so much. You are not
quite strong enough to give such bear hugs."
"Well, well, well! Not in bed yet? I was almost sure that I heard you
snore as I came upstairs."
"Uncle! I am going to ask Sister Julia if I snore when I am asleep."
"You certainly do not do so while you are awake. But perhaps it was
Snowball that I heard. She is asleep on the lowest step."
"Poor little Snowball! I do hope Debby is taking good care of her. Is
she very black, Uncle?"
"Who? Debby or the kitten?"
"Why, the kitten, of course. Debby is s'posed to be black, but Snowball
is s'posed to be white."
"I see. Well, set your mind at rest, pet, for your kitten looks her name
to perfection, curled up as she now is. Indeed, for a moment I was on
the point of bringing her up here to wash your face and coax a little
color into it. Oh, another thing! I noticed that she has quite a jaunty
bow of ribbon on her neck. You would have the nightmare if I should tell
you what color it is."
"Every color looks pretty on Snowball. I think the ribbon must be pink,
because Debby likes pink herself. No?" as the Doctor shook his head.
"Red, then. Debby likes red, too."
"I suppose I may as well tell you. It is _yellow_! A glorious, golden
yellow."
"How lovely! Yes, Uncle, I mean it. I think yellow is a beautiful
color; but it wouldn't do for me to wear it, you know. Why, the sun and
moon and stars and Dick and ever so many of my favorite flowers are
yellow, so you can't tease me about that color."
"I am a naughty old chap to tease you about anything. Come, Rob, it is
long past her bedtime. It will be a case of
'You can't get 'em up,
You can't get 'em up,
You can't get 'em up in the morning,'"
sang the jolly man.
On the way down stairs he said, "As far as the measles are concerned,
she could be with the family now; but she is weaker than I like to see
her, and the little excitement of being with the babies again would be
more than is good for her at present. So I have put her off another two
days. She will not try to exert herself as much with Sister Julia as she
would down stairs. She is getting along better, however, than I
expected, for she has had a pretty severe attack; but I have every
reason now to hope that it will leave no bad effects."
"How about her eyes? is the sight in any danger?" was the father's
anxious question.
"Not now. The disease often affects the eyes; but Sister Julia has been
very careful, and the danger is passed. We may all go to sleep to-night
with light hearts."
Ah, how little the wisest of us know! How little we suspect what the
next hour may bring!
The tick-tock----tick-tock----of the big clock at the foot of the stairs
was the only sound that broke the stillness of the night. Midnight came
and went.----One o'clock----two o'clock----a piercing scream rang
through the silent house! The Doctor, whose room was nearest the stairs,
was the first to reach the sick room. He found the little girl in the
nurse's arms, imploring her to chase away the man with the terrible
knife.
"He stuck it----into me----Uncle! 'Way, 'way into--my side! Oo! It's
there yet!--Take it out, Uncle! _please_ take it out! Oh! oh! oh!"
"There, there, darling! No, no! there is no knife. It is only a bad
dream," soothed the nurse.
"But it hurts, Sister!----Oo, oo! Ouch!----every time----I breathe. Take
it _out_! Oh, Uncle----_please_ take it _out_!"
"There is absolutely nothing there, pet,--nothing! Sister is right. You
have been lying in a cramped position which caused a pain in your side
and made you dream of the man with a knife. Lie down and let Sister rub
the place where you feel the pain."
But though the Doctor made light of the matter to the little girl, his
sister and brother-in-law saw the anxiety written in every line of his
face. Sister Julia, too, looked worried as she tried to soothe the
moaning child.
"M--Mother!"
"Yes, darling, yes!"
"It hurts so, Mother--oo!--oo! It shoots--right through me. I'm wide
awake now, Mother, so--why doesn't it go--away? Oh, oh!"
"She has been restless all night, Doctor,"--Sister Julia had left the
little girl to her mother's care for a moment--"so restless that I
disobeyed your orders about going to bed myself and remained beside her
for fear she would throw off the covering and take cold. She has not
been quiet long enough for the muscles to cramp----"
"I know, Sister, I know. I said that merely to quiet her. This is what I
have feared all along. She is a frail mite, but I really thought that
we had pulled her over the danger line. I hope it is nothing worse than
pleurisy. We shall try hot applications first. I shall be back in a
moment."
Sister Julia busied herself heating water and making other preparations;
and the Doctor soon returned with his "telephone," as Mary called the
instrument with which he had several times listened to her lungs.
"Now, dear, let me see whether I can find out just where the pain
is----"
"Oh, it is right here, Uncle! On both sides right where my hands
are--you don't need to listen--and it shoots--through me and--comes out
under those bones--where the angels' wings grow."
"But we can do more to relieve the pain if I listen for a few minutes,
pet."
The father and mother did not take their eyes off his face, which grew
more and more grave. By the time he had finished the examination, there
was little need for him to call the nurse to the bedside and motion them
into the hall.
"I shall be perfectly honest with you," he began, "for I know that you
are prepared for the worst. I fear pneumonia, but hope that we have
caught the trouble in time. I can tell you nothing definite for some
hours. The condition in which I find her now is the very one which
Sister Julia and I have been guarding against; but I was so sure that
all danger was past that I told Sister, when I came home this evening,
to change her program and, instead of going to rest at that time and
leaving Mary to us, Rob, to go to bed as soon as she had tucked her in
for the night. This she did not do, but remained at the bedside until we
came up, just as she has done every night from eleven o'clock on.
"With any other nurse, I might fear that some neglect had brought
matters to this pass; but not with Sister Julia. She is a wonderful
nurse, and we are blessed to have her, especially now. I have never lost
a pneumonia patient when she was on the case. So we shall hope for the
very best."
But though the Doctor tried to speak cheerfully, a cold fear gripped the
hearts of all.