DAVY'S GIFT
Real need recognizing no distinction of class, it had been Liz Hopworth
who had been summoned to the Hopkins home when Mrs. Hopkins "dropped
off" in the middle of the night, leaving ten children motherless.
Over Dan'l's late breakfast Liz, wan-eyed from loss of sleep, but
dignified by a new importance, related all the sad circumstances of
poor Sarah Hopkins' passing. "Who'd a' _thought_," she exclaimed as
she vigorously beat her pan-cake batter, "yesterday when I see the poor
woman out a hangin' her clothes that this blessed night I'd a' been
called in to straighten her limbs and do for those poor young 'uns!"
To Nonie and Davy death was a strangely mysterious thing which they
took for granted; dogs and cats and calves died; frequently there was a
burial in the village cemetery. These had always had an element of
excitement which even stirred the Hopworth home, detached though it was
from the village life. They looked at Liz, now, with wide eager eyes.
To have "straightened poor Sarah Hopkins' limbs" seemed to have
transformed her--her tone was kinder, something almost tender gleamed
in her tired eyes, and she was making pan-cakes for their breakfast!
"Just fetch that grease, Nonie. Step spry, too--there's a lot to be
done before this day's over. Lordy, I thought to myself last night,
that the Lord strikes hard--leavin' those ten children that haven't
done no wrong without any mother to manage and Timothy Hopkins sittin'
there as helpless like he'd been hit over the head, he's that stunned.
And scarcely a bite in the house."
Old Dan'l had long since gotten past the day of worrying over the ways
of the Lord. Nor to him was there anything particularly startling in a
lack of food. His had always been a philosophy that believed that from
somewhere or other Providence would provide, and if it didn't--
"Scarcely a bite, and all steppin' on one another, there's so many of
'em, and then when I think o' Happy House and the plenty there's there,
well, 's I say, the Lord's ways are beyond _me_! Eat up your
breakfast, Nonie. You gotta do up the work here, for I told that poor
man I'd come back quick as ever I could. There's no end of work to be
done 'fore that place will look fit for folks to come and see her."
"Can I go, too, Liz?" asked Davy. "Mebbe I can help."
Normally Liz would have made a sharp retort. Now she considered a
moment.
"Mebbe you can. You can play with the baby so's Jennie can help me
sweep and dust. Sarah Hopkins would turn over if she thought folks was
goin' to see the muss and litter. Hurry along."
All that Liz had said of the house of mourning had been true. Davy
found the muss and litter; the poor smithy wandering helplessly around
and the "young 'uns" stepping on one another. He shut his eyes tight
so that he would not have to catch the tiniest glimpse of poor Sarah
Hopkins lying very still in the bedroom off the kitchen. He was glad
when Liz, in a strangely brisk tone, bade Jennie, the oldest Hopkins
girl, give the baby over to Davy.
"He's come 'long to mind the baby, so's you can help. Take him
outside, Davy, and keep him out from under foot. Take up these dishes!
Sure's I'm livin' I see Mrs. Sniggs comin' up the road this blessed
minit."
Davy, gathering up his charge, retreated hastily. In fact, his pace
did not slacken until he was well away from the Hopkins home. Then he
put his burden down under a tree and stared at it.
The baby, blissfully unconscious of its loss, cooed ecstatically to
express his joy at the unusual attention. He reached out tiny hands to
Davy. "Go----go!" he gurgled, coaxingly.
"You sit right there! I gotta think," was Davy's scowling answer.
And Davy was thinking--hard. Liz' story, over the breakfast, had sunk
deep into his soul. _He_ knew what it was to live in a household where
there was no mother and not much food!
It did not take Davy very long to make up his mind. Then, with
determination written in every wrinkle of his frowning face, he lifted
the baby and hurried to his home. An hour later, still carrying the
baby, he trudged doggedly up the road to Happy House, through the gate,
along the path to the door. Only for a moment did he pause on the
threshold; then, softly opening the door, he entered, and came out
again, empty-armed.
The oppressiveness of the day had decidedly ruffled the atmosphere of
Happy House. Miss Sabrina had taken the news of Nancy's flight with a
disapproving grunt; B'lindy had sharply come to Nancy's defense. She
"guessed girls had to be girls anyways, though she'd a feelin' in her
bones that somethin' might happen and one never could tell 'bout them
pesky machines."
Then Miss Sabrina, taller and straighter than ever, had walked
haughtily away as far as the sitting room, when a shriek brought
B'lindy running.
Miss Sabrina had dropped breathless into a chair and at her feet sat
the Hopkins baby sucking its thumb.
"B'lindy--what--what is it? I liked to fall over it!"
"Land a' goshen--a _baby_! A _real_ live baby!" B'lindy leaned over
cautiously. "Crawled in here like a caterpillar! As I live, here's a
note, Miss Sabrina!" She unpinned a piece of paper from the baby's
dress.
"Ples kep this child there ante enuf food fer so meny Hopkins Liz sez
and she sez the Lord never ment any body to go hungry she sez your hous
is big enuf fer a dusen and lots of food I gues you don't no thet ther
ar so meny Hopkins and you will like to kepe this one I no how it hurts
to be hungry so ples don't send this baby bak. Yours truly, Davy."
B'lindy, after reading the note aloud, stared at the baby.
"Sarah Hopkins' young 'un--I swan!" With her apron she wiped a tear
from her eye. "No one to do for it now."
Miss Sabrina snorted.
"Of all the nerve--bringing it here--for me to break my neck on!"
From above came Miss Milly's voice plaintively calling.
"Take it away. Milly's calling--she's got to know what the
excitement's about. I'll _never_ get over my fright," and Miss
Sabrina, still trembling, rose to go to her sister. The baby puckered
his face preparatory to a long wail. "Take it _out_," commanded Miss
Sabrina, "it's going to cry--_give_ it something quick."
B'lindy snatched the baby and flew to the kitchen. She could not bear
to think that any living thing in Happy House was hungry. However, the
threatened squall passed when B'lindy, after carefully shutting her
doors, produced a bowl and a shiny spoon.
It had not been alone Miss Sabrina's shriek that had frightened Miss
Milly. She had heard a rumble of thunder. She was lying back among
her pillows deadly pale. She clutched Miss Sabrina's hand and begged
her to stay with her.
"I know I'm foolish," she whispered plaintively, "but it's so
oppressive. It's hard--for me--to breathe."
Sabrina sat down grimly beside her--no thunder storm came to North Hero
that it did not bring unpleasant memories to them both.
"Is it--going to be--very bad?" Miss Milly asked plaintively. "I wish
Nancy--was home."
"Maybe it'll go around," assured her sister with as much tenderness as
she was capable of showing.
At that moment the door opened slowly and B'lindy, a strangely softened
look on her old face tip-toed in, carrying in her arms the baby, sound
asleep.
"I just brought it up for Miss Milly to see, it's that cute!" she
explained, in a whisper.
"The poor little thing," Aunt Milly timidly touched the moist chubby
hand. B'lindy, with the air of having accomplished some great feat,
laid the baby carefully upon the couch.
"Fed its _poor_ little stomick and it dropped right off to sleep--it'll
forget things now," she said proudly.
With a different feeling in each of their hearts the three women stared
for a moment at the sleeping baby. Miss Sabrina spoke first. Her
voice was cold and crisp.
"Take that baby right out of here, B'lindy, and get Jonathan to carry
it back where it came from."
A rumble of thunder, closer and louder, startled them. Miss Milly sat
bolt upright, white-faced, and reached out a hand.
"Oh--_sister_! _Not_ in the storm!"
B'lindy rose majestically and towered over her mistress. When, down
behind her shut doors, that baby had gone to sleep in B'lindy's arms,
something had wakened in her sixty-year old heart; it throbbed in her
voice now. She spoke slowly. "I guess the _Almighty_ sent Davy
Hopworth here with this poor little young 'un! Like as not it would go
hungry more'n once, and if three women here can't take care of a little
baby--well, the Lord that suffered little children to come unto Him
like's not will hold us to 'count for it! I guess Happy House would be
a heap happier if there was less high and mightiness and more of the
human milk of kindness in it, and doin' for others like little Miss
Anne's always tryin' to do, anyway!" And quite breathless from her
outburst B'lindy knelt beside the baby and defiantly folded sheltering
arms over it.
For the briefest of moments no one stirred. Then Miss Sabrina rose
hurriedly, and, mumbling something incoherent, left the room.
Across the baby B'lindy's eyes, feverishly bright, met Miss Milly's
anxious glance.
"Don't know what she said, but, Milly Leavitt, sure's I'm alive I saw a
_tear_ in Sabriny Leavitt's eye! I guess we keep this baby."