Aunt Kitty's Tales

by Madame Guizot

  CHAPTER VIII.

  A MOTHER AND CHILD.

  The little cabin, for it was nothing more, in which Mrs. O'Donnel lived,had been put up only a few months. It was built in a little wood whichskirted the road between my house and the village, and stood so near theroad that the traveller, as he passed along, could hear the baby wholived there, crying, or the song with which his young mother was hushinghim to sleep. She was a very young mother; and there she lived, youmight almost say, with no one but her baby--for Pat O'Donnel, herhusband, was one of the hands on board a steamboat which went from ourvillage to H---- every morning and returned in the evening, and thoughhe was always at home at night, he was away every day except Sunday,from day-dawn till dark. He had built this cabin, and brought his youngwife and his baby son to live there, that he might spend every nightwith them.

  I know nothing more of these people than I have now told you, when thecircumstances occurred which I am about to relate, except that Mrs.O'Donnel worked very industriously in a little garden which had beenfenced in for her near her cabin, and that on Sunday, the husband andwife, with their bright-eyed boy, might be seen going to church, lookingclean, and healthy, and happy. But Harriet had become better acquaintedwith the family than I, for she loved children, and could never passlittle Jem--this was the name of the baby--without a smile or apleasant word, and the child soon learned to know her; and when she camenear, would jump and spring in his mother's arms, give her back smilefor smile, and since he could not talk yet, would crow to her words. Themother was pleased with the notice taken of her boy, and whenever wepassed the house, would bring him to the low fence nearest the road, andwith a courtesy, and "How d'ye do, ma'am?" to me, would hold him toHarriet to kiss, sometimes putting in his hand a bunch of flowers forhis young friend, who seldom left home to walk in that direction withouttaking some present for him. Even when setting out with Mary to deliverher invitations, little Jem had not been forgotten; and when I sawHarriet saving the largest of two peaches I had given her, and puttingit in a little basket which she carried in her hand, I well knew that itwould go no farther than to Mrs. O'Donnel's cabin. Accordingly, when shecame in sight of it, she quickened her pace, saying to her companions,"I want to stop at Mrs. O'Donnel's a minute, so I will run on; and ifyou do not go too fast, I will be with you again before you have passedthere."

  Before she reached the house, she called out for little Jem, andwondered that neither his laugh nor his mother's pleasant voice answeredher. She would have thought they were not at home, but the door wasopen, and Mrs. O'Donnel was too careful to leave it so, when she was faraway. Unlatching the little gate which opened on the road, she crossedthe yard and entered the house. There sat Mrs. O'Donnel, her handsclasped in an agony of grief, and tears washing her face, and fallingunheeded on that of her poor boy, who lay extended on her lap, no longerlaughing and crowing, but pale and still, with his eyes half closed.

  Harriet's exclamation of, "What is the matter, Mrs. O'Donnel?" rousedthe poor mother, who, looking up, said, "Oh, Miss, and glad am I you'recome, for my poor baby loved you, and you're just in time to see himdie."

  "Oh! I hope not, Mrs. O'Donnel," said Harriet. "He will not die. Do youthink he will?" she added, more doubtingly, as again she looked in hispale face, and kneeling down by him, took the little hand which lay sofeebly by his side.

  "And indeed, Miss, I fear he will die," said the poor woman. "Allyesterday I saw he was not well, and grieved was I to see Pat going thismorning, and leaving me with him all alone--but Pat laughed at me for acoward, and when I heard him laugh, I took heart and thought it was allmy foolishness--but ah, Miss! it isn't laughing he'll do when he comeshome the night;" and at the thought of her husband's sorrow, Mrs.O'Donnel sobbed aloud. Soon recovering herself, she continued: "I sawPat off, and when he was out of sight I came back, and looked at my babyas he lay asleep. It was daylight then, and I saw he had a beautifulcolor. Now I know the color was just the fever burning him up, but thenI thought he was better, and I was so glad that I couldn't help singing,though I did it softly for fear of waking him; and little was the work Idid, going back again and again to the bed to see my pretty baby lookingso well--and at last I stooped down to kiss him, and whether I woke him,Miss, I don't know, but all at once he opened his eyes wide and staredat me, and he doubled his fists and stretched himself out, and made sucha noise in the throat, that it was dying I thought he was just then--andI screamed and cried, but there was nobody to hear me, and soon hestopped making the noise and shut his eyes again, and ever since he haslain still, just like this."

  Any one who has seen a child in convulsions, will know what had been thematter with little Jem; but Harriet knew nothing about it, and, you maysuppose her dismay, when, as she was looking at her little playfellow, aspasm crossed his face, his head was thrown back, his limbs stiffened,and that distressing noise in the throat was again heard. The mothershrieked, and Harriet, rushing to the door, screamed to Margaret, who,with Florence and Mary, was waiting in the road for her, that little Jemwas dying. Margaret was a good nurse, and one of those useful people whothink more of helping those who suffer, than of mourning over them. Assoon as she entered the house, she saw what was the matter, and saw,too, the very thing which she most needed,--a large pot of water, underwhich Mrs. O'Donnel had made a fire before she became alarmed about herchild. In another minute, she had drawn a tub from under a table, pouredinto it the hot water from the pot, cooled it to the propertemperature, by the addition of some from a pail which stood near, andbefore Mrs. O'Donnel at all understood her proceedings, her child wasstripped and laid in a warm bath.

  As the convulsion passed off, Margaret said, "Now, Mrs. O'Donnel, yourchild is coming to, and you must not be so frightened, for I have seenmany a child have fits, and be just as well as ever afterwards; but youmust be very quiet, ma'am, for if he goes to sleep afterwards he oughtnot to be woke; and, Miss Harriet, you cannot do any good crying here,but if you will get on pony and ride for the doctor as fast as you can,you will be doing a great deal of good, and Miss Mary had better go backand tell her aunt."

  In an instant Harriet was by the side of the pony, urging Florence toget off, that she might mount and go for the doctor. But to thisarrangement Florence strongly objected. My readers must not be too angrywith her, they must remember she had not seen the child, and did notknow how very important even a few minutes might be in such a case ashis. Still, it must be confessed, she thought more of herself than ofany one else, as she replied to Harriet's entreaties, "Why cannot I gofor the doctor? I can carry a message just as well as you."

  "But, Florence, you do not know where the doctor lives."

  "Well, you can go with me and show me."

  "Florence, I cannot walk as fast as the pony can go. Do, Florence, comedown and let me have him."

  Florence did not stir, and Harriet wrung her hands with impatience, as,turning to the door, she called out, "Margaret, Florence will not let mehave the pony."

  Margaret came out, but neither her remonstrances, nor Harriet'sentreaties, nor the reproaches of Mary, had any effect upon Florence.Indeed, Mary's reproaches probably only strengthened her resolution, asit is not by making people angry that we induce them to yield theirwishes to ours. Some minutes were lost in this useless contest, whenHarriet said, "Margaret, I will not wait any longer, I will walk as fastas I can, and if the doctor is only at home he will soon be here."

  When Mary and I arrived at Mrs. O'Donnel's, neither the doctor norHarriet had yet made their appearance. I did for the poor baby all Icould venture to do without a physician's advice, and then watched withmuch anxiety for Dr. Franks. I had been there probably half an hour,when Harriet came in, flushed and panting. "Where is the doctor?" wasthe first question.

  "He will soon be here," she replied; "I am sure he will, for Mrs. Franksknew where he was, and she sent off a boy on horseback for him."

  Harriet looked so heated, that, fearing the effect of further excitementon her, I determined to return home immediatel
y. So, giving Margaretsome directions, and telling Mrs. O'Donnel that I would see her again inthe afternoon, I left them.