CHAPTER XV.
THE FARMHOUSE HOSPITAL.
Jack Loughead marched into his uncle's room. "Well--well--well,"exclaimed the old gentleman with a prolonged look, and sitting straightin his chair. "So this really is you, Jack? I must say, I am surprised."
"Surprised?" echoed Jack, getting his uncle's hands in both of his."Why, Uncle, I cabled Crane Brothers just as soon as I got your letter,that I was coming."
"This is the first thing I've heard of it," said old Mr. Loughead."Well, how did you track me here, for goodness' sake?"
"Why, I saw an account of your accident in the New York paper as soon asI landed," said Jack.
"Oh! confound those papers," exclaimed his uncle ungratefully. "Well, Icame near being done for, Jack," he added. "In fact, I was left in thewreck."
Jack shuddered.
"But that little girl there," pointing toward the next room, where thetalking seemed to be going on busily, "insisted that I was buried in thesmash-up, so they tell me, and she made them come and look for me. Nonetoo soon, I take it, by all accounts." The old gentleman placidly toreoff two or three grapes from the bunch in the basketful, put at hiselbow, and ate them leisurely.
"Phronsie is a good child," said Jack Loughead, with feeling, "and anobserving one, too."
"Phronsie? Who's talking of Phronsie?" cried his uncle, pushing back thefruit-basket. "It was the other one--Polly; she wouldn't let them giveover till they pulled me out. So the two young men tell me; verywell-meaning chaps, too, they are, Jack."
"You said it was a little girl," Jack managed to remark.
"Well, and so she is," said old Mr. Loughead obstinately, "and a nicelittle thing, too, I should say."
"Miss Pepper is twenty years old," said his nephew suddenly. Then he wassorry he had spoken.
"Nonsense! not a day over fifteen," contradicted the old gentlemanflatly. "And I must say, Jack, you've been pretty expert, consideringthe time spent in this house, in taking the census."
"Oh! I knew her before," said Jack, angry to find himself stammeringover what ought to be a simple account enough.
"Hem--hem!" exclaimed the old gentleman, bestowing a keen scrutiny onhis nephew. "Well, never mind," he said at last; "now, let's tobusiness."
"Are you strong enough?" asked Jack, in duty bound, yet longing to getthe talk into safe business channels.
"Strong enough?" repeated the old gentleman, in a dudgeon, "I'm reallybetter than I was before the shake-up. I'm going home tomorrow, I'd haveyou to know, Jack."
"You would better not move too soon," said his nephew involuntarily.Then he added hastily, "At least, take the doctor's advice."
"Hem--hem!" said his uncle again, with a shrewd smile, as he helpedhimself to a second bunch of grapes.
"Well, now, as to that matter you sent me over to London about," beganJack, nervously plunging into business.
"Draw up that chair, and put your mind on the matter, and we'll go overit," interrupted old Mr. Loughead, discarding the grape-bunch suddenly,and assuming his commercial expression at once.
So Jack drew up his chair, as bidden; and presently the financial headof the Bradbury & Graeme Company, and the enterprising young member whowas the principal part of "Company," were apparently lost to all else inthe world, but their own concerns.
Meantime, Pickering Dodge was having a truly dreadful time of it.
The doctor, washing his hands of such a troublesome patient, had justrun downstairs, jumped into his little old gig in displeasure, and wasnow half across a rut worn in the open meadow, dignified by the name ofthe "Short Road."
"Do go to bed," implored Ben, studying Pickering's pale face.
"Hoh, hoh!" Pickering made out to exclaim, "if I couldn't say anythingoriginal, I wouldn't talk. You're only an echo to that miserable littledonkey of a medical man."
"I'll help you; I'm strong," said Charlotte.]
"But you really ought to go back to bed," Ben insisted.
"Really ought?" repeated Pickering, in high disdain; "as if I'd putmyself again under that quack's thumb. No, sir!" and snapping hisfingers derisively at Ben, he straightened up jauntily on his somewhatuncertain feet. "All I want is a little air," stumbling off to thewindow.
"Well, I'm going to tell Phronsie that my arm is all right," said Polly,hurrying off; "beside I want to see Johnny"--
"It's time for me to look after that young man, too," said old Mr. King,following her; "I haven't heard him roar to-day. Come on, Jasper; youmust see Johnny."
As they disappeared, Ben ran over to Pickering, and was aghast to findthat the face laid against the window-casing was deathly white, and thatall his shaking of the broad shoulders could not make Pickering open hiseyes.
"Jasper," called Ben, in despair.
"Hush!" Some one came hurrying up. "Don't call Jasper; then Polly willknow. Let me help."
Ben looked up. "O, Charlotte! that's good. Pick's done up. Call Mrs.Higby, will you? we must get him to bed."
"I'll help you; I'm strong." Charlotte held out her long arms.
Ben looked them over approvingly. "You're right," he said; "it's betternot to stir Mrs. Higby up. There, easy now, Charlotte; put your handsunder there. You are sure it won't hurt you?"
"Sure as I can be," said Charlotte, steadily moving off in pace withBen, as they carried Pickering between them.
"Excuse me!" Ben rushed in without knocking upon the Bradbury & GraemeCompany. "Do you mind"--to Jack--"I'm awfully sorry to ask it, but Ican't leave him. Will you run to the doctor's and fetch him? Mrs. Higby,the landlady downstairs, you know, will tell you where to find him." Benwas all out of breath when he got through, and stood looking at youngLoughead.
"What's the doctor wanted for?" cried Company, springing to his feet,and seizing his hat from the table. "Why, of course I'll go--delightedto be of use--who for?"
"Pickering Dodge--got up too soon--keeled over," said Ben briefly. "I'vegot to stay with him--he's in bed--and we don't want Grandpapa or Pollyto know."
But Jack Loughead after the first word, was half over the stairs.
"See here," cried old Mr. Loughead suddenly, as Ben was rushing out,"can't I see your sister? I'm horribly lonesome," turning in his chair;"that is, if her arm will let her come," he added, as a second thoughtstruck him. "Don't ask her if you think she's in pain."
"Doctor has fixed Polly's arm," said Ben, "and I know she'll like tocome in and sit with you. It's a shame," and his honest face flamed withregret, "I had to ask such a favor as"--
"Tut, tut! go along with you," commanded the old gentleman imperatively,"and send Polly here; then I'll make by the operation," and he began tochuckle with pleasure.
So Ben ran off, and presently Polly, her arm in a sling, came hurryingin.
"Bless my soul," cried the old gentleman, "if your cheeks aren't as rosyas if you had two good arms, and this was an every-day sort of excursionfor pleasure."
"SO NICE, EVERYBODY IS GETTING ON SO WELL," SAID POLLY]
"It's so nice," said Polly, sitting down on one of Mrs. Higby'sspare-room ottomans, on which that lady had worked a remarkable cat inblue worsted reposing on a bit of green sward, "to think that everybodyis getting on so well," and she hugged her lame arm rapturously.
"Hem--hem! I should say so," breathed old Mr. Loughead, regarding herclosely. "Where have they buried that woman?" he demanded suddenly.
Polly started. "Out in the meadow," she said softly. "Mrs. Higby wantedit here instead of in the churchyard. It is under a beautiful oak-tree,Mr. Loughead, and Mr. Higby is going to make a fence around it, andGrandpapa is to put"--
"Up the stone, I suppose you mean," interrupted the old gentleman."Well, and when that's done, why, what can be said upon it, pray tell?You don't know a thing about it--who in Christendom the woman was--not athing."
"Johnny's mother," said Polly sorrowfully, the corners of her mouthdrooping; "that's going to be on it, and Grandpapa is to have theletters cut, telling about the accident; and Mrs. Higby hopes thatsometime so
mebody will come to inquire about it. But I don't believeanybody ever will come in all this world," added Polly softly, "becausethere is no one left who belongs to Johnny," and she told the story thepale little mother had just finished when the car went over.
Old Mr. Loughead "hemmed," and exclaimed impatiently, and fidgeted inhis chair, all through the recital. When it was over, and Polly satquite still, "What are you going to do with that horrible boy?" he askedsharply. "Almshouse, I suppose, eh?"
"O, no!" declared Polly, in horror. "Phronsie is going to take him intothe Home."
"Phronsie is going to take that little rat into her home?" cried old Mr.Loughead in disgust. "You don't know what you are talking of. I shallspeak to Mr. King."
"Johnny is just a dear," cried Polly, having great difficulty not tospring from her chair, and turn her back on the old gentleman, then andthere.
"But into your home," repeated old Mr. Loughead, his disgust gaining onhim with each word; "it's monstrous--it's"--
"Oh! I didn't mean our home," explained Polly, obliged to interrupt him,he was becoming so furious. "Johnny is going down to Dunraven, to theChildren's Home," and then she began on the story of Phronsie's companyof children, and how they lived, and who they were, with many littleside stories of this small creature, who was "too cunning for anything,"and that funny little boy, till the old gentleman sat helplesslylistening in abject silence. And the latch was lifted, and young Mr.Loughead put his head in the doorway, looking as if he had finished along tramp.
"Come in, Jack," said his uncle, finding his tongue. "We've a wholeorphan asylum in here, and I don't know what all; every charity you everheard of, rolled into one. Do come in, and see if you can make head ortail to it."
"Oh! Mr. Loughead knows all about it," cried Polly brightly, while hercheeks glowed, "for he went down to Dunraven with us at Christmas, andhe showed the children stereopticon pictures, and told them such nicestories of places that he had seen."
"He--my Jack!" exploded the old gentleman, starting forward and pointingto his nephew. "Great Caesar! he never did such a thing in his life."
"Ah!" said Polly, shaking her brown head, while she looked only at theold gentleman, "you ought to have seen, sir, how happy the children werethat day."
"My Jack went to an orphan asylum to show pictures to the children!"reiterated the old gentleman, unable to grasp another idea.
"Do be still, Uncle," begged his tall nephew, jogging his elbow.
"Here--here's Polly!" cried Jasper's voice. And at the same moment insped little Dr. Fisher, his glasses shining with determination, as hegazed all over the room for Polly.
"My dear, dear child," he cried, as he spied her.
And "Papa Fisher!" joyfully from Polly, as she sprang from Mrs. Higby'sottoman, and precipitated herself into the little doctor's arms.
"Softly, softly, child," he warned; "you'll hurt it," tenderly coveringthe poor arm with his right hand, while he fumbled in his pocket withthe other, for his handkerchief. "Dear me!" and he blew his noseviolently. "Yes; well, you're sure you're all right except this?" and heheld Polly at arm's length and scanned her closely.
"I am all right if you will only tell me that Mamsie is well, and isn'tworried about us," said Polly, an anxious little pucker coming on herforehead.
"Your mother is as bright as a button," declared Father Fisheremphatically.
"Come, come!" ejaculated Mr. King, appearing in the doorway; "this isn'tjust the way to take possession of Mr. Loughead's apartment. Jasper, Idon't see what you were thinking of. Come, Fisher, my room is next; thisway."
Polly blushed red as a rose as old Mr. Loughead said briskly, "Oh! Isent for her to cheer me up, and now, I wish you'd all stay."
"Beg pardon for this inroad," said little Doctor Fisher, going up to theold gentleman's chair and offering his hand. "Well, well, Loughead," toJack, "this is a surprise party all round!"
"No inroad at all, at least a pleasant one," old Mr. Loughead keptsaying, while Polly ran up to Jasper:
"Did Pickering's uncle come with Papa Fisher?"
"No," said Jasper, with his eyes on Jack Loughead, "the Doctor was allalone, Polly."
And then the door of Pickering's room opened, and out came Dr. Bryce,with bad news written all over his face.
"I fear brain fever," he said to Dr. Fisher after the introduction wasover, making the two physicians acquainted. "Come," and the door ofPickering's room closed on them both.
And twilight settled down on the old square white house, and on thenew-made grave under the oak in the meadow; and Brierly people, by twosand threes, came to inquire for "the sick young man," going away withsaddened faces. And a messenger from the telegraph office drove up justas Mr. Higby was pulling on the boots to his tired feet for a long walkto the village, handing in the message:
Mrs. Cabot and I will take the midnight train.RICHARD A. CABOT,
THEN PHRONSIE GLANCED BACK AGAIN, AND SOFTLY JOGGED THECRADLE.]
And then there was nothing more to do, only to wait for the coming ofPickering's uncle and aunt.
And the next day Pickering's calls were incessant for "Polly, Polly,"sometimes upbraiding her as the brown eyes were fastened piteously onhis wild face; and then begging her to just smile at him and rememberhow he had loved her all these years. "And now I am going to die," hewould cry.
"O, Polly! Polly!" Mrs. Cabot would wring her hands and beg at suchtimes, a world of entreaty in her voice. And then old Mr. King wouldinterfere, carrying Polly off, and declaring it was beyond all reasonfor her to be so annoyed.
And Phronsie would climb up on the bed and lay her cool little handgently on the hot forehead. Then the sick boy's cries would drop intounintelligible murmurs, while his fingers picked aimlessly at thecoverlet.
"There! he is better," Phronsie would say softly to the watchers by thebed, "and I guess he is going to sleep."
But the quiet only ushered in worse ravings when Pickering lived overonce more the horror of the train-wrecking, and then it took many strongarms to hold him in his bed. "Come on, Ben," he would shout, strugglinghard; "leave him alone--we shall be caught--the fire! the fire!" untilhis strength died away, and he sank to a deathly stupor.
* * * * *
Phronsie sat down to write a letter to Mrs. Fargo. One like it wasdropped every morning into the basket set on Mrs. Higby's front entrytable, ready for the neighbor's boy to take to the village post-office.
DEAR MRS. FARGO:
[wrote Phronsie, looking off from the wooden cradle that Mrs. Higby haddragged down from its cobwebby corner under the garret eaves, with theremark, "I guess Johnny'll sleep well; all the Higbys since the firstone, has been rocked in it."] I must tell you that dear Pickering isn'tany better. [Then she glanced back again, and softly jogged the cradle,as Johnny turned over with a long sigh.] And Papa Fisher and the otherdoctor don't think he is going to get well. And Mrs. Cabot cries all thetime, and Polly cries sometimes too. And we don't know what to do. But Iguess God will take care of us. And Charlotte is going to take Johnnydown to the Dunraven Home in a day or two. She says she can, though Iknow she don't like babies, especially boy-babies; she said so once. Andso he will be happy. And that's all I can write to-day, Mrs. Fargo,because every minute I'm afraid Polly will want me.
FROM PHRONSIE
And just the very minute when Phronsie was dotting the "i" in her name.Mrs. Higby came toiling up the stairs, holding her gingham gown wellaway from her feet.
"Say!" she cried in a loud whisper, and pausing midway to wave a largesquare envelope at Phronsie, curled up on the hall window-seat.
Phronsie got down very softly, and tiptoed over to the stair-railing tograsp the letter Mrs. Higby thrust between the bars, going back to herold post, to open it carefully.
DEAR PHRONSIE:
I think God meant that I was to have Johnny for my very own. So won'tyou give him to me, dear? Let Charlotte bring him soon, please, for myheart is hungry for a baby to hold. I will make him hap
py all my life,Phronsie, so I know you will give him to
HELEN'S MOTHER.
Five Little Peppers Grown Up Page 16