It was the girls' intention at first to leave the hamper of good things
before the Haddons' door so that Mrs. Haddon would have no chance of
refusing the gift through pride.
But when they came to the little cottage after half an hour of steady
walking, they found to their dismay that Fate had taken a hand and
spoiled all their plans.
For Mrs. Haddon herself, a shawl over her head and looking even more
worried and anxious than she had when they had seen her before, rounded
the corner of the house and met them just as they reached the door.
For a moment the girls had a panicky impulse to drop the basket and run,
but on second thought they decided that that would be just about the
worst thing they could possibly do. And while they were trying to think
up something to say, Mrs. Haddon took the whole situation entirely out
of their hands.
At first she did not seem to recognize them, but the next instant her
face lighted up with relief and she opened the door of the cottage,
beckoning them to enter.
"Just stay here in the kitchen a minute where it's warm," she directed
them in a strained tone, and before the girls had time to draw their
breath she had disappeared from the room, leaving the classmates alone.
"Now we've gone and spilled the beans," whispered slangy Laura, eyeing
the blameless hamper disapprovingly as she warmed her chilled hands
before the stove. "I don't suppose she will touch a thing now, and after
we went and walked all this way, and everything, too----"
"Sh-h," cautioned Billie, a hand to her lips. "She's coming back."
At that moment Mrs. Haddon did indeed come back into the kitchen. She
closed the door very gently behind her and then came quickly toward the
girls.
"Listen," she said breathlessly. "I don't know who sent you, just now.
Maybe it was God." She caught her breath on the words and the girls
regarded her wonderingly and a little fearfully. For goodness' sake!
_what_ was she talking about?
"Anyway, you've come," went on the woman, swiftly. "And if you want to,
you can do me a great favor."
"What is it?" they asked together.
"Run for the nearest doctor, one of you--or all of you," said the woman,
her words stumbling over one another in her agitation. "Peter, my little
boy, is sick. If I don't have a doctor very soon, he may die."
"Oh, where is the nearest doctor?" asked Billie, breathlessly, her eyes
big with sympathy. "Tell me and I'll go."
"Half a mile down the road!" said the woman. "Dr. Ramsey! In the big
white house! These are his office hours. He should be at home. I just
went to a neighbor's, but she was not at home and I could not go myself.
Peter would have been alone----"
"I'll go, and I'll have him back here in half an hour," promised Billie,
running to the door as she spoke. But Laura grabbed her skirt and held
on to it.
"No, you stay here. I'll go," she said, thinking desperately of the food
hamper and fearing that if Billie went for the doctor she would probably
have to explain their mission.
"I'll go with you," volunteered Vi, with the same thought in mind, and
before Billie could do more than blink, her two chums had flashed
through the door, closing it with a sharp little click behind them. Then
it opened again for an instant and Laura put her pretty head inside.
"You always could explain things so much better than the rest of us,
Billie," she said, by way of excuse, it is to be supposed--and then the
door closed again.
It was good for Billie at that moment that she had been blessed with a
sense of humor. Otherwise, she might have been a little put out.
As it was, she took it as a joke on her and turned back resignedly to
her task of telling why they had come to proud Polly Haddon.
The latter was pacing the floor anxiously. Then, as a little moan came
from the next room, she flew to the patient, leaving Billie entirely
alone.
The latter regarded the hamper uncertainly for a moment, then, with a
sigh, she lifted it from the floor to the rickety kitchen table.
"I'll let her see all the good things first," she decided wisely, as she
removed the cover from the basket, exposing to view its inviting
contents. "Then maybe she'll be too busy looking at them to be angry."
So busy was she that she did not hear Mrs. Haddon reenter the room.
Neither did she know that the latter was staring unbelievingly over her
shoulder till a slight exclamation of wonder made her start and whirl
round suddenly.
"Where did you get all that?" asked the woman, her eyes still fixed on
the contents of the basket. "And what is it for?"
"It's--it's for you--if you will take it, please," stammered Billie, in
her surprise and confusion saying what came first to her mind. "We--we
thought maybe--maybe the kiddies would like the beef tea and milk
and--and--things----" she finished weakly, thinking resentfully that the
girls, or one of them anyway, might have stayed and helped her out.
But after all, she need not have worried. For an instant the look that
Billie had expected and dreaded flared into Polly Haddon's eyes--a look
of outraged pride. But then the woman thought of the children--and she
had no pride.
"You said you brought some beef tea?" she repeated, bending eagerly over
the basket. "And milk?"
"Two quarts of milk," cried Billie, joyfully, the relief she felt
singing in her voice. "And we made the beef tea fresh this morning.
Why--why--what's the matter?"
For Polly Haddon's black eyes had filled with tears and she had turned
away impatiently to hide them. Beneath the worn old shawl, her thin
shoulders shook in an effort to suppress her hysterical sobs.
Then Billie ran to her and put her young arms around her and Polly
Haddon, who had struggled so long and so bravely alone, clung to the
girl hungrily while she fought for self-control.
"It's so long!" she said huskily, "so long since any one did anything
for us--for my babies----" Her voice broke, and for a minute she just
clung to Billie and let tears wash some of the bitterness from her
heart. Then she straightened up suddenly, wiped the tears from her eyes
with a handkerchief that Billie had slipped into her hand, and holding
the girl off at arm's length regarded her intently.
"It seems," said the woman softly, while Billie looked up at her out of
clear, grave eyes, "that when things get as bad as they can be the Lord
sends somebody to help. This time he sent you. Hark! What's that?"
It was only the restless turning of a feverish little body in bed, but
the mother was instantly alert.
"The beef tea!" she directed, and Billie quickly handed her one of the
bottles. "He has had hardly any real nourishment since day before
yesterday," Polly Haddon went on as she poured the liquid into one of
the pans on the stove and sniffed of it hungrily. "Strong beef tea is
just what the little fellow needs."
Billie wondered while she watched Mrs. Haddon with pitying eyes. No
nourishment for almost two days! Why, if they had not come the children
might have starved to death!
"Where are the two little girls?" she asked, remembering suddenly that
she had seen no sign of them.
Mrs. Haddon said nothing for so long that Billie began to think she had
not heard her question. Then the woman turned and faced the girl,
holding a steaming cup of beef broth in her hand.
"I've kept them in bed, too," she said. "I was afraid they had caught
cold, and then, too--one feels less hungry if one doesn't move about."
Then abruptly she turned and once more left the room. Billie would have
followed, but the thought that perhaps Polly Haddon would not wish her
to held her back. The woman had accepted the food for her children's
sake, because they were practically starving. But in spite of that she
was very proud. Perhaps she would not wish to have Billie see the
poverty-stricken bareness of the rooms beyond. So Billie stayed in the
kitchen and waited.
Her eyes strayed nervously to an alarm clock that ticked away on a shelf
over the sink. She wished the girls would come with the doctor. If
little Peter was as sick as his mother thought he was, every minute
might be precious. And besides that, they must get back to school.
Then she heard the girls' voices mingled with the gruff tones of a
man--the doctor, of course--and her heart jumped with relief. The next
moment the door was flung open and Laura and Vi came in, followed by an
immense man who seemed to completely fill the narrow doorway. Then Polly
Haddon appeared in the doorway between the two rooms, an empty cup in
her hand. At sight of the doctor she set down the cup and motioned him
eagerly into the other room.
The latter glanced curiously at Billie, flung his hat on the kitchen
table in passing, and disappeared with Mrs. Haddon into the sick room.
"Just luck that we happened to catch the doctor on his way out," panted
Laura, for the big man had hustled the girls back to the cottage on a
run. "Say, Billie," she added, her eyes lighting on the opened hamper,
"I see you did the trick. Any bones broken?"
"Tell us about it," begged Vi.
"I'll tell you on the way home," said Billie, her eye once more on the
clock. "Miss Walters told us not to stay long, you know. We were to come
right back."
"Gracious, look at the time!" cried Laura, in consternation, following
Billie's eyes to the clock. "Miss Walters will think we have eloped."
"I wish we could wait and see what the doctor says," protested Vi,
hanging back, and just then Billie raised a warning finger.
"Listen," she said.
The doctor had raised his voice for a moment and his words came clearly
to the girls where they stood near the door.
"The boy is very sick, Mrs. Haddon," he said. "It will take good nursing
to pull him through and plenty of nourishing food." He lowered his voice
again and the rest of what he said was lost in a meaningless murmur.
In the kitchen the girls stared at each other.
"Plenty of nourishing food," whispered Billie. "Where is he going to get
it?"
"I guess," said Laura, as she opened the door, "it is up to us!"