I LOSE MY SITUATION
I REMEMBER a dream of pain that seemed to last for years: a dream in
which lights flashed back and forth perpetually behind my eyes, and all
the time there was a buzz of low voices; it troubled me greatly that I
could never hear what they said. Then the dream faded, and there was
something cool and wet on my forehead: I tried to tell them how good it
was, but I seemed to have no tongue, so I gave up the attempt and went
to sleep instead. And after years more of sleep I woke up in a room of
dim twilight: and it was the most natural thing in the world to see
Colin sitting beside my bed.
He saw my eyes open, and gave me his own old smile.
“Better, old girl?” He held something to my lips, and I drank thirstily.
“Is it time to start for school?” I whispered.
“Not nearly,” he said. It was an immensely comforting statement to me.
“Go to sleep again, kiddie.” And I went obediently.
He was there the next time I awoke, but it was morning this time. They
told me afterwards that for three days and nights he scarcely ever left
my side, sitting just where I could see him if my eyes opened. No one
could ever guess how beautiful it was to see him there. I grew to
wondering would he still be there, before my heavy lids lifted: to be
almost afraid to lift them, in case he should have gone away. But always
his smile was ready for me, and I would drift away to sleep again,
trying to smile back.
Then one day I woke up with my brain quite clear, and the desire for
sleep all gone. Colin put his fingers on my wrist, and I lay watching a
little ray of sunlight that crept in by the blind and fell across his
crisp hair. He did not take his eyes from me, but spoke to some one I
could not see.
“All right,” he said quietly. “Come along and say good morning to her,
Madge.”
Madge came—which also seemed a most natural thing. She kissed me very
gently and stood back with her hand on Colin’s shoulder, and I grinned
foolishly at them both.
“I’ve had a tremendous sleep,” I said, “and all sorts of queer dreams.
And I’m ever so hungry!”
“That’s much better to think about than the dreams,” said Colin. He put
out a long arm and mysteriously produced some jelly, with which he fed
me like a baby. It was wonderfully good, and I ate six spoonfuls, and
then discovered that I wasn’t as hungry as I had thought. So I went to
sleep again, holding a hand of each.
It was quite a long while before they would let me talk about what had
happened in the library. They thought I did not remember much about it
at first, which was quite wrong: I remembered everything until the
stunning blow that put me out of action. But I did not know what I dared
ask. You see, I had never seen the thief’s face clearly, but his height
and build were the same as Ronald Hull’s. In my mind, as I lay finding
my strength again, I was quite sure that that estimable gentleman had
returned to pick up a little more loot.
Judy and Jack were safe—I knew that, because they came and peeped at me
every day and brought me flowers. And Julia also: she swept and polished
my room, and showed much hatred and jealousy of the stern little trained
nurse who wouldn’t let her do the dusting. But when I asked feebly for
Mrs. McNab they told me she was still too ill to get up; the shock of
the attempted robbery at The Towers had evidently made her worse. So I
held my peace as best I could, outwardly, though in my mind I ached to
know if Ronald Hull were the individual I had so heartily battered with
the poker. If so—well, I trembled for Mrs. McNab, but I was glad I had
done the battering.
Then, one day, Mrs. McNab came in, in her dressing-gown, looking like a
tall ghost: and Colin slipped out and left us alone. She kissed me and
sat down by my bed.
“Tell me——” I whispered.
“Tell you what, my dear?” She bent towards me.
“Did they get him?”
“Whom do you mean, Doris dear?” She looked puzzled.
“Your brother. Did the police get him?”
A great relief flashed into her face.
“Ronald! Oh no. He got quite safely away from Adelaide. His friend wrote
to me after the ship had sailed: there had been no difficulty at all.
That worry is ended, thank God!”
“Oh!” I said weakly. “Then it wasn’t he—in the library? I thought it
was.”
“In the library? You—you don’t mean the burglar? Why, my dear child,
that was Bence!”
“Bence! Not the chauffeur?” Bence had always been especially civil to
me. I felt a guilty pang, remembering how hard I had tried to hit him
with the poker.
“Yes, it was Bence. He turned out to be a very well-known criminal—the
police had been looking for him for some time. He was responsible for
all the robberies; some of Dr. Firth’s property was found in his room,
in addition to the jewels you children discovered in the bush. He has
made a full confession.” She looked at me doubtfully. “Will it excite
you to hear about it?”
“It will excite me far more _not_ to hear,” I said truthfully. “I’ve
been lying here for days, aching to see you: there was no one else I
dared to ask. Do tell me. Did I hit him very hard?”
“You got in one lucky blow that dazed him, and a good many that hurt him
a good deal. But for that I do not know what would have happened to you
and the children. As it was, Julia seems to have arrived just in time,
for he was getting his wits back. I don’t know that anyone is certain of
what actually happened—you were all struggling in the darkness, and
Judy was stunned. But just as Harry and Dicky arrived and turned on the
lights he kicked you with tremendous force on the head: I don’t know
whether he meant it, or if it were done blindly in his struggles.”
“I think it must have been that,” I said. “Bence was always very
courteous!”
Mrs. McNab gave a short laugh.
“He was past being courteous just then. The blow sent you flying, and
the other side of your head crashed into the carved leg of a table.
Then, of course, the boys mastered him easily enough, aided by Julia,
who fought with great fury. He was rather badly knocked about—they were
all beside themselves, seeing you and Judy unconscious. Judy was quite
well in half an hour. But you have been a more serious matter—though we
shall soon have you as strong as ever.” And then she put her grey head
down on my hand, and I felt it wet with her tears.
“And you got Colin and Madge for me! That was ever so dear of you.”
“That was the least we could do. Dr. Firth managed it for us: they were
here next day. I think they rather wanted to kill us all at first, but
they have forgiven us now. I have told Colin everything, Doris—about my
brother and Shepherd’s Island. It was right that he should know. And
though he was naturally distressed at all that you have undergone, I do
not think he blames me—perhaps not as much as I blame myself. ‘I don’t
see what else you could have done,’ he said. He has been wonderfully
kind to me. It is easy to see why you are so proud of him.”
“Well—yes,” I said. “There never was anyone like Colin.”
She smiled at me.
“Colin seems to have the same conviction about you,” she said. “Here he
comes: I am told he is terribly stern if your visitors stay too long.
Julia says he is the one person of whom the nurse is afraid!”
Colin came in and stood at the foot of the bed, very tall and good to
look at. We laughed at each other.
“I thought my patient might be tired,” he said. “But you are doing her
good, Mrs. McNab.”
“I was worrying over something that Mrs. McNab has explained to me,” I
said. “Now I shan’t worry any more. Colin, isn’t it a good thing you
made me practise boxing with you? I should never have landed my best
efforts on Bence if it hadn’t been for that!”
He stared at me.
“Why, I thought you had forgotten all about it,” he said. “Have you been
lying there gloating in secret over your savagery?”
“Something like that,” I laughed. “I feel I ought to have done
better—but a dressing-gown does cramp one’s style with a poker!”
He laughed too, but there was something in his eyes that brought a lump
into my throat.
“You blessed old kid!” he said softly. That was a good deal for Colin to
say, and it told me more than if anyone else had talked for a week.
They brought me downstairs a few days later, looking very interesting in
a wonderful blue teagown that Mrs. McNab had ordered for me from
Melbourne. Colin carried me, for my knees still bent under me in the
most disconcerting fashion when I tried to walk, and put me on a lounge
in the garden, with a rug over my feet. Most of the house-party had gone
away, but there were enough left to make quite a crowd, after my quiet
time in my room, and they all made a ridiculous fuss over me. Dicky
Atherton and Harry McNab plied me with unlimited offers of food. Even
Beryl was quite human; she brought me my tea herself, and actually ran
for an extra cushion. It was all very disconcerting, but when I got used
to it, it was lovely to be outside again. Judy and Jack had planted a
huge Union Jack at the head of my couch. They sat down, one on either
side of me, and declined to yield their positions to anyone. “You may
think you own her,” Judy said to Colin, her nose in the air. “But we’re
the Band!”
It was some days after when they took me out for my first drive. I could
walk now, and I was dressed, even though Madge did say my clothes looked
as if they were draped on a bean-pole: but they still took great care of
me, and anyone would have thought I was really important, to see how
Julia tucked the rug round me and slipped a little soft pillow behind my
back. “’Tis lookin’ well ye are, thank God!” she said, regarding the
effect judicially. “Let ye go aisy, now, over the bumps, sir. There’s a
pot-hole in the road beyant, that Bence druv me into wan time; an’ ’twas
a mercy the lid was on the car, or it’s out I’d have been. I have the
bump on me head yet!”
“I will, Julia,” said Colin, at the wheel. “Quite ready, Mrs. McNab?” as
she took her place beside me. “Hop in, Madge.” We slid off gently,
leaving Julia waving from the steps.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget that first drive. The country was all
dried-up, for no rain had fallen for weeks: but even the yellow paddocks
were beautiful to me, and every big red-gum tree seemed to welcome me
back. As we mounted the headland above Porpoise Bay the sea came in
sight, blue and peaceful, with little flecks of white foam far out, and
here and there the brown sails of a fishing-boat. The islands were like
jewels on its bosom. I looked at the green hills of Shepherd’s Island,
and thought of the night—how long ago it seemed!—when the children and
I had taken off our silent passenger, and of how narrowly we had escaped
running upon its rocks as we raced home before the driving storm. It had
been a wild enough venture, but it had succeeded; and it had given me
the two best little comrades anyone need want. Never were allies
stauncher than my Fellow-Members of the Band.
The drive was only a short one: Dr. Firth had asked us to afternoon tea,
saying that the distance was quite long enough for my first outing. He
seemed curiously young and happy as he ran down the steps to meet us.
Already he and Colin and Madge were firm friends. I liked to watch him
whenever his eyes rested on Colin. They made me think of Father’s eyes,
full of pride in a son.
The housekeeper came out to welcome me, and we had tea in the verandah,
among the ferns and palms. After we had finished, Mrs. McNab took out
her knitting and settled herself comfortably in a lounge-chair.
“I know you want to show these children the house,” she said. “I will
sit here, if you don’t mind, Dr. Firth. Be sure you do not let Doris
become tired. I heard her tell Colin this morning that her knees were
still ‘groggy.’ Of course, I can only guess at the meaning of that
expression—still——!” She laughed at me as I pulled down the corners
of my mouth.
“I’m afraid I’m pretty hopeless as a governess,” I said contritely.
“So hopeless that I fear we’ll have to find you other occupation,” said
the Doctor, laughing. He patted my shoulder. “Come and give me your
opinion of my spring-cleaning.”
The big house was very different now. The rooms that had been full of
cabinets and showcases were re-furnished: one a billiard-room, with a
splendid new table, the other a very charming sitting-room, dainty, yet
homelike, with comfortable chairs and couches, a piano, a writing-table,
and low book-cases full of enticing-looking books. I exclaimed at it.
“What a jolly room!”
“This is a home-y room, I think,” the Doctor said, looking round it with
satisfaction. “The drawing-room is too big and gorgeous for ordinary
use: I’m afraid of it. Later on I may become brave enough to go into it,
but it needs to be furnished with dozens of people. Oh, well, perhaps
that can be arranged in time. Now come and see where the wild beasts
lived.”
There were no grim beasts and reptiles now. Instead, the room was bare,
with a shining new floor—a floor that instinctively made one’s feet
long to dance. There was a little stage at one end for musicians: big
couches near the walls, where hung some fine old paintings. A double
door opened into a long conservatory. And that was all.
“Oh, what a ballroom!” Madge cried.
“Will it do?” he said.
“I should think it will! Isn’t it just perfect, Doris?”
“It is, indeed,” I said. “Do ask us to come when you give a ball, Dr.
Firth.”
“I will—if you will promise to give me the first dance. After that I’ll
let the youngsters have a chance, and take my place meekly with the
aged; but the first dance is my perquisite. Now I want to show you some
other rooms. Is she strong enough for the stairs, do you think, Colin?”
“Not to be thought of, with groggy knees!” said my brother. He picked me
up as if I were a baby and strode upstairs with me, disregarding my
protests.
“Yes, you’re putting on a little weight,” he said, setting me gently on
the landing. “Nothing to speak of, of course, but you’re rather more
noticeable to carry than you were a week ago—upstairs, at any rate.
Where next, sir?”
“Here,” said the Doctor.
He led us into one bedroom after another. A man’s room first, with a
little iron bedstead, big chairs, a heavy writing-table and book-cases,
and plenty of space. Next, a dainty room, all furnished in pink, where
roses sprawled in clusters on the deep cream ground of an exquisite
French wall-paper. From it opened a bare, panelled room, the sole
furniture of which was a grand piano and three chairs.
“Why, that’s the twin to your Bechstein, Madge!” I said.
Madge astonished me by suddenly turning scarlet.
“Is it?” she said awkwardly.
“Don’t stay to argue over pianos,” Dr. Firth said. “There’s another room
to see.”
It was a very lovely room. A little carved bed stood in an alcove under
a broad casement-window; all the colouring was delicate blue and grey,
and it was full of air and sunlight. The furniture was of beautiful grey
silky-oak: the chintzes were faintly splashed with pink here and there,
and there was pink in the cushions on the great Chesterfield couch.
Never, I think, was there so dainty a room.
“One has to ask a lady’s permission before one sits down in her room,”
said Dr. Firth, with a twinkle. “May we sit down in your apartment,
Doris?”
“Mine?” I stammered. And then I saw Colin’s face, and I knew there was
something I had not been told.
Colin came with one stride, and put me on the big couch.
“Listen, Dor, old girl,” he said. “Dr. Firth has been making great
plans: he’s such a strenuous planner that it isn’t the least bit of use
to argue with him, I find. They are very wonderful plans for us.” And
then the big fellow fairly choked. “I think you’d better go on, sir,” he
managed to say.
“I’m a very lonely man, Doris,” the Doctor said. “I’ve no one belonging
to me in the world, and far too much money for one man to use. And you
three are the children of the best friend I ever had, to whom, at one
time, I owed everything. Wherefore, I am about to adopt you. I may say,
I have already adopted you. I don’t know how one does it legally, but
I’m very sure no one is going to get you away from me.”
I could only look from him to Colin: and Colin’s face was very grave and
very happy. So I knew it was all right.
“Colin is a stiff-necked person,” the Doctor went on. “I have had most
tiring arguments with him, thanks to his abominable pride. Thank
goodness, I think I have succeeded in making him see that Denis Earle’s
son, cut out for a doctor if ever a fellow was, is thrown away in an
insurance office. As a matter of principle, it is all wrong. So Colin is
going back to the University to take his degree——”
“Oh!” I cried. “Colin—Colin!” I put my head against his coat and simply
howled. He held me very tightly. I believe he wasn’t much better
himself, big as he is.
“Madge is going to be a boarder for a couple of years. Personally, I
don’t want her to be a very learned lady and fag herself to a shadow
with innumerable examinations; but as to that, you three must settle the
matter and do as you think best. But she can go as far as she likes with
her music, with my full approval, if only she’ll come home here and play
to me on her Bechstein whenever she gets a chance.”
Madge was perched on the arm of his chair. She leaned across and kissed
the top of his head airily.
“Thank you,” said the Doctor. “I believe we can consider that signed and
sealed. As for you, we have told Madame Carr that she can find some one
else for her twelve-year-olds. I want some one to look after me and make
this place the sort of home we want it to be whenever Colin and Madge
can come back to us. It’s only a house at present, but I rather think it
will be a home when you are here.”
“And you can’t argue, Dor,” Madge said wildly. “’Cause we’ve sub-let the
flat in Prahran!” She hurled herself on me. “Say you’ll agree, Dor. It’s
going to be just perfect!”
I looked at Colin.
“It’s for you to say,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you like, old Dor. I
wasn’t tired of your housekeeping, you know—only of seeing you at it.”
He gave a big sigh. “To think of you in a place like this—not tired and
worried any more!”
“To think of you,” I said—“with your degree. Not washing saucepans?”
“Then may we call it a bargain?” the Doctor said.
I went over to him and kissed him just where Madge had kissed him.
“Signed and sealed,” he said contentedly.
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6 FROM LOG-CABIN TO WHITE HOUSE W. M. Thayer
7 THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD Elizabeth Wetherell
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31 DAISY IN THE FIELD Elizabeth Wetherell
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40 BEN-HUR Lew Wallace
41 QUEECHY Elizabeth Wetherell
42 JILL, A FLOWER GIRL L. T. Meade
43 THE WORLD OF ICE R. M. Ballantyne
44 THE CHANNINGS Mrs. Henry Wood
45 MELBOURNE HOUSE Elizabeth Wetherell
46 PETER THE WHALER W. H. G. Kingston
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TRANSCRIBER NOTES
Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple
spellings occur, majority use has been employed.
Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors
occur.
Some illustrations were moved to facilitate page layout.