CHAPTER XXVI

THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS

"Well, I never expected to forgive him--he was so mean and obstinate--"

The unpleasant, treble voice of Miss Jane Pumfret was interrupted by the

lower tones of Major Dale.

"But, my dear woman," he said, "Captain Mayberry is not responsible--he is

sick, mentally and physically."

"Well, I'll see," and she arose to go, "I am not much of a hand at making

up, anyway."

"But if you could have seen how he begged me to send for you. He seemed to

fear you would be angry with him for leaving the old place."

"Angry? More likely to be scared to death. I could not believe the old

stage driver that you had really brought him to a hospital. Well, I must

be going." She was almost at the door. "Don't mention my name to him, if

you please."

Major Dale was at his wits' end. He feared the old captain would be beyond

consolation if he did not do as he had promised--send Miss Pumfret to him

at once.

Dorothy was just on the stairs. At a glance she understood that her father

had failed to bring about a reconciliation between Captain Mayberry and

his sister. She approached them.

"You are Miss Pumfret, I know," she began, without waiting for her

father's introduction. "Isn't it perfectly splendid?--the news from

Captain Mayberry, I mean. He seemed as pleased as a child when I promised

him a merry Christmas, and to-morrow morning I am going into the hospital

to make sure he gets it. Won't you come with me? He will be delighted to

see you, I am sure."

Miss Pumfret looked at the impetuous girl who was going to make sure her

brother had a merry Christmas.

"You see," hurried on Dorothy, taking advantage of the moment to further

press her request, "we just had the place ready for him. We gave a play,

and had a new bed at our disposal."

"My brother a charity patient!" exclaimed the woman. "Why, there's plenty

of money in the property, but I won't touch pen to paper to sign--"

"Of course, we can take care of him," interrupted Dorothy; "but I thought

maybe you would like to make him a little Christmas present--it is

visiting day to-morrow and the day before Christmas."

Little Miss Pumfret glared at Dorothy. Then she stepped back and sank down

on the hall seat. "Well," she exclaimed finally, "I'm an old-fashioned

woman. Never was used to youngsters' interference, but I like your cheek

(this was said with evident sincerity and no idea of being frivolous).

I've just a good mind--"

"Oh, do, do, Miss Pumfret! Come with me to-morrow and tell him you will

sell Tanglewood Park and--fix it all up--"

"How you do race on! But it's getting late. Perhaps--"

"I'll meet you at the ten o'clock train," went on Dorothy, while even

Major Dale was forced to smile at her impetuosity. "I have so many places

to go, but I am going to the hospital first."

Miss Pumfret put out her hand--it shook visibly.

"Little girl," she said, "you are right. You have said it all for me. Come

to-morrow and say it all over again to--Nick."

Tears fell down the old pinched cheeks, but Dorothy kissed them away. She

had found the path to Jane Pumfret's affection--it was cheek, just plain

cheek, sometimes called courage.

Yes, it was late, but Dorothy still had Tavia to console--if only she

could insist upon Tavia spending Christmas at The Cedars--Dorothy had

unlimited faith in the magic of the day before Christmas. Nat called to

her as she started up to Tavia's room.

"I say, Doro, maybe I--could help. I'd like to tell her it's all right. I

was mean about it. You know, Tavia and I went--in it--together."

"Oh," replied Dorothy vaguely, "I really don't know what you mean."

Nat saw that he was about to betray a secret. He thought, naturally, that

Tavia had confided fully in Dorothy.

"Oh, I just meant," he stammered, "that if I can say anything to make

Tavia feel--more at home, you know--don't hesitate to ask me."

Tavia was at the head of the stairs looking straight at him.

"Thanks!" she spoke up, all the tears evidently gone. "But if it's all the

same to both of you, I would prefer that you keep your pretty saying for

Christmas. I'm just dead tired, and fully expect to be asleep in exactly

ten minutes."

Dorothy saw that the sudden burst of gloom had been overcome, and knew

that Tavia would actually be as good as her word and asleep in ten

minutes.

"Good-night, then," called Nat, "and don't forget that to-morrow is the

day before Christmas."

"Good-night," added Dorothy, "and don't forget you are to attend to

everything to-morrow while I am in the city. See what it is to be on a

charity committee! I'll have to have a substitute help with all the most

important things--there's heaps to be done yet."

"Good--nig-h-t!" drawled Tavia with a forced yawn. "I am not sure that I

will wake up until the day after Christmas."

"To bed! To bed, every one!" called Mrs. White, and then both troubles and

pleasant anticipations for a happy ending to the queer holiday became

hopelessly tangled in the dreams of the young folks at The Cedars.

Dorothy's last clear thought was: "To-morrow something must happen to make

it all right, for to-morrow is the day before Christmas."

The sun was streaming in her window when she opened her eyes. She jumped

up with a start, for she was to get an early train, go first to the

hospital, then search out the wretched Miss Dearing.

"I could never be happy on Christmas, and think perhaps she might be

starving. When I find her I will-- But how can I tell what I may have to

do?"

Hurriedly she partook of breakfast and jumped into the depot cart that Nat

had driven up to the door.

"Take care that Tavia does not worry," Dorothy cautioned the young man. "I

know she has a trouble, and I am sure somehow it will be all adjusted by

to-night. I depend upon the witches of Christmas Eve."

Nat laughed and assured her he "would keep track of Tavia." Then the train

steamed in, and Dorothy was gone.

"Suppose she fails to meet me," mused the girl, whose very red cheeks were

the source of some remarks from a lady in the opposite seat.

Dorothy always looked pretty, but she looked charming when the clear red

blood rose to her cheeks and made her deep blue eyes flash like stars,

actually ignited with the torch of anticipation.

"But I am sure she will be there. Miss Pumfret is the sort of woman I

should think would never break her word."

Nor was she disappointed in her estimate; Jane Pumfret waited--even had a

cab ready to drive with Dorothy to the hospital, there to see the new

patient, Captain Nick Mayberry.

"Perhaps I had better go first and prepare him," suggested Dorothy as they

reached the door of the private room and saw the one spotless bed--the

gift of the young ladies' auxiliary.

"No need, dear," objected Miss Pumfret. "Now that I've made up my mind to

it I actually can't wait."

The next moment Dorothy drew back to allow brother and sister their own

happy moment--Jane Pumfret had the old white-haired man in her arms, was

embracing him like a child, and the nurse smiled in complete satisfaction

as she, too, stepped aside with Dorothy.

"That is all he wants," she said, "He has worried constantly, and I was so

afraid she would not come--I know Miss Pumfret."

Just then the telephone rang. The nurse picked up the receiver. She

listened to the call from the office. Then she answered:

"I'm awfully sorry, but I cannot see how we can take her. We haven't a

single public bed unoccupied."

She waited a moment, then resumed: "Poor thing. I hate to have you turn

her away, but what can we do?"

"A bed," thought Dorothy. "Why, of course, Miss Pumfret will provide a

private one for her brother, and perhaps--"

But she did not wait to think further.

"Nurse," she interrupted, her voice carrying through the 'phone, "perhaps

that patient could have our bed. Captain Mayberry is to go to the private

wing."

In a few words the nurse gathered Dorothy's meaning.

Then she told the matron, speaking through the transmitter, to hold the

applicant.

"Would you like to come with me?" she asked Dorothy, as she prepared to

interview the prospective patient. "Miss Pumfret will be here for some

time yet."

Down the broad marble steps, that seemed to exude everything antiseptic

and sterilized, Dorothy hurried along after the head nurse. Into a large

hall, then across this into a small waiting-room they passed.

"The patient is only ill from neglect and nervous exhaustion," explained

the nurse, "or I would not invite you down."

A second white-capped and white-robed attendant opened the door. Dorothy

stepped in first. A woman sat on a leather chair in the far corner of the

room.

"She is very weak," explained the second nurse to the first, "and I really

was afraid to let her go."

The woman raised her head.

"Miss Dearing!" exclaimed Dorothy, too surprised to suppress her

astonishment, "Why, I am so--glad I have found you!"

The woman tried to open her lips, but a sudden movement of her head showed

that she had fainted.

"And you know her?" asked the nurses, quickly restoring the woman to

consciousness with simple restoratives.

"Slightly," replied Dorothy. "I will wait to see how she gets along."

From the scene in the waiting-room Dorothy hurried back to the side of

Captain Mayberry. She wanted to ask Miss Pumfret about the bed.

"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed the little woman pleasantly. "I was just

telling Nick what a girl you are. Perhaps you can tell us how to go about

getting him into the private ward. He liked it first-rate here," she

hurried to explain, "but there's no sense in keeping this bed from some

one who may need it."

Dorothy touched the button at the door to call an attendant. It was the

head nurse who answered.

"We can have this bed," stammered Dorothy, scarcely able to speak through

her excitement. "Miss Pumfret wishes Captain Mayberry removed to the

private wing."

"That will do nicely," answered the nurse, smiling. "Your friend has been

taken into the observation ward. She will remain there until her case is

diagnosed. It was providential that you spoke when you did, or she might

have fainted in the street if we had turned her away, and we are not

allowed to take patients who apply as she did, unless they are vouched

for. You see, it was well you happened to know her."

"Could I speak with her?" asked Dorothy timidly.

"That is precisely what I came up for. She wants very much to speak with

you."

Dorothy Dale's Queer Holidays · 第 26 / 27 章