Maris

by Grace Livingston Hill

  The child looked up for a moment with great eyes filled with horror, and her baby lip puckered pitifully. Then she wailed again, and two tears rolled down her pink cheeks.

  "I want my muvver. I'se got a sore froat!"

  "But Lexie, you don't want Muvver to be sick a long, long time, do you? You want her to get well quick, don't you? You wouldn't like Muvver to be so sick she couldn't ever get up again, would you?"

  The child shook her head.

  "Well, then, you're going to be a good, good little girl, as brave as a soldier, and let sister take care of you and make you well, till Mother can get up again, aren't you?"

  A slow, reluctant nod.

  "But my froat is sore. Awful!"

  "Well, we'll go right upstairs and get in bed and send for our good Dr. MacPherson. He gives you nice sweet sugar pills, you know, and he'll make you well quick. Come on! Let's see how softly we can get up the stairs so we won't wake Muvver."

  Little by little she coaxed the child, until she finally yielded with a weak smile and said, "Wes," she would be a good girl and not make a noise when sister took her up the stairs. At last Maris landed Lexie in her bed and began to undress the hot little body.

  There was no question but Alexa had a fever, and it looked to Maris's inexperienced eyes as if there were some kind of faint rash beginning to appear. Oh, was this also to be added to the burdens? Measles and a wedding! A wedding and a quarantine sign on the door. Oh, what a mess! And what would Tilford say to it all?

  Suddenly she began to laugh.

  Alexa turned and stared at her in wonder.

  "Vat is funny, Maris?" She tried to focus her heavy eyes on her sister who was laughing almost hysterically, though very quietly. It had to be either crying or laughing, and she preferred to laugh.

  Suddenly she sobered. She must not let herself go like this. Too much depended on her just now.

  "I was only thinking how funny it was to have measles and a wedding at the same time."

  Alexa gave a faint little giggle.

  "Can't I be a fower girl?"

  "Not if you have the measles."

  "Is I got measles, Maris?"

  "Well, maybe. We'll have to ask Mother's nurse to come in and look."

  "Has Muvver got a nurse? I wantta see her."

  "I'll get her in a minute. You lie still and be a good girl."

  "Aw wight! Myrtle Hayes has gotted measles. She had 'em two days. She wasn't in school. Now I got 'em, mebbe! Isn't that funny?"

  "Yes, very funny!" said Maris with a bitter little grin.

  "When you got measles, you get fowers an' paper dollies sent to you by the class. We sent some to Myrtle Hayes yestidday! Do you s'pose I got measles fum her, makin' her a paper dolly?"

  "Oh, no. You have to be with people who have them to get them."

  "Well, I was wif her two more yestiddays ago."

  "Yes, that was it, likely. Now you lie still till I call the nurse."

  Mrs. Mayberry was sleeping nicely and the nurse sitting by with a book. Maris almost envied her. She had no perplexities to settle. She had only to sit there and do her duty as it came to her hour by hour. Oh, of course there were responsibilities, but she was trained to meet them. And there was always the doctor at the end of the telephone to call upon in necessity. While here she was suddenly plunged from having a good time into every kind of a mix-up, things she knew nothing at all about. As if it wasn't enough to be on the eve of her marriage with all sorts of new problems to deal with, without having her mother, the mainstay of the family, taken down so desperately ill, and the baby of the house sick besides! And she had no training for such things, and no one to call upon in her extremity. She was the oldest child. Her father mustn't be more troubled than he was already, or he would break, too. And Merrick was so hotheaded he was no help at all. As for Tilford, he had made it all too evident that none of this was his problem. She couldn't consult him, though of course she would have to tell him pretty soon the latest developments. What would Tilford say to a contagious disease? Well, she would soon find out, for there he was coming up the walk, she saw as she passed the window. His car was parked out in front.

  But Maris did not run down to meet him. She followed the nurse back to the sickroom and let Sally deal with the front door. One burden at once was all she could carry. Tilford would have to wait until she was free.

  The nurse came in and examined the little girl. She said it looked like measles to her, but the rash wasn't coming out well. She hinted that it might even be scarlet fever.

  "You know, there's quite a bit of it around," she said. "Just keep her asleep till the doctor gets here if you can."

  But Alexa was restless and wanted her mother, and it was some time before even a story kept her still enough to drop off to sleep.

  As soon as Maris was sure the child was sleeping soundly enough not to cry out and disturb their mother, she hurried down to Tilford. He met her with an angry frown.

  "It seems to me, Maris, that you are very inconsiderate," he said as he glanced at his watch vexedly. "I have waited exactly sixteen minutes for you this time. And how long was it this morning? My time is valuable, you know. Especially so just now when I am planning to be out of the country for at least six months. Hereafter I do wish you would try to come down promptly."

  Maris was very tired, and overwhelmingly worried. The tears were very near to the surface, and she needed comfort.

  "I came as soon as I possibly could," she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. "You don't realize what has been going on here."

  "Well, I certainly realize enough," he said coldly, sitting on a straight chair opposite the couch where she had dropped down. "I can't quite see how your family can be so inconsiderate to you at a time like this, with your marriage so close at hand."

  "What do you mean?" said Maris, sitting very straight and flashing her eyes at him. "Do you think it was inconsiderate of my mother to drop unconscious on the floor while she was preparing to iron some of my pretty things for me? Do you think it was inconsiderate of my little sister to come home very sick from school, with a sore throat and probably a bad case of measles, or perhaps scarlet fever?"

  "You don't mean that has happened, too?" said Tilford, looking at her accusingly as if somehow it was all her fault.

  "The doctor hasn't seen her yet, but the nurse is sure it is one or the other."

  "Well, for heaven's sake, Maris, have you had both of those?"

  "I'm sure I don't remember," said Maris wearily. "I guess so. But anyway, that doesn't matter. The fact remains that Alexa is very sick, and I've got to go right back to her as soon as possible."

  "Not at all, Maris. You must not go near her again. You know, even if you did have them when you were a child, it is quite possible to get them a second time. I've heard of cases. And it would be simply out of the question to run the risk of you being down with measles on your wedding day, you know. You must telephone for another nurse if the one you have isn't adequate for the situation. I shouldn't think measles was much anyway. She'll probably be running around in a day or two. But you must not run any risks for the wedding."

  "Wedding!" said Maris tonelessly. "We can't have a wedding if everybody is sick!"

  "Nonsense!" said Tilford with his magnificent air, as if he owned the earth and would brook nobody's interference. "Sickness must not be allowed to interfere! I'm sure your mother isn't selfish enough to want you to put off your wedding just because she might not be able to attend when the day comes. And as for the child, why, I can telephone my sister in Chicago to get my little niece ready to be flower girl in Alexa's place."

  Maris gave her bridegroom an incredulous look. Was it possible that he was in earnest?

  "I wasn't thinking of the ceremony, or the flower girl," she said coldly. "I couldn't think of getting married while my mother was lying at death's door and my sister was so sick she needed me. You don't realize how sick Mother is, or you wouldn't talk that way. Twice today we t
hought she was dying. The doctor said it was a miracle that she didn't. Do you suppose I could get married and go away across the ocean with my mother sick like that?"

  "Well, just what would you propose to do about it?" he asked in a cold, haughty voice. "Our reservations are all made for a certain day. We have the finest suite on the ship. I would have to forfeit a good deal of money to give them up now. Also you know that my sailing date is obligatory, as I have business appointments to meet that cannot be delayed. There is no such thing as putting off the wedding, and you'd better understand that at once. And now I think what you had better do is to run up and put a few necessities in a bag and come on home with me. It would be far better for you to stay at our home till the wedding day, and then your nerves won't be all upset. Mother will agree with me, I know, and it will give us a chance to get all the arrangements perfected at our leisure."

  "Tilford!" gasped Maris, horrified. "How could you possibly think I could be spared now? Don't you know I must care for my little sister?"

  "That's ridiculous, I tell you. I can get you a child specialist nurse who will handle this case much better than you can. You are just spoiling that child anyway, with so much coddling, and I positively must assert my authority and put a stop to this!"

  "Authority?" said Maris and burst into a sudden hysterical giggle. "What authority have you over me?"

  "The authority that the ring on your hand gives me," said the young man loftily. "You are as good as my wife now, when you are wearing that!"

  "Authority!" repeated Maris slowly again, a kind of scorn creeping into her voice. "I thought it was a pledge of love and tenderness."

  "Well, that, too, of course. But it is all based on authority."

  "And what love and tenderness do you show when you talk in this way about my beloved family? When you want me to come away from them when they are very sick and need me. When you can suggest that I could possibly plan for a wedding with my mother at death's door!"

  "Now, look here, Maris, I thought you were a sensible girl. Suppose all this had happened three weeks later, after we had been married and were halfway across the ocean? Would you have insisted that the ship turn back and take you to your precious family?"

  Maris caught her breath and stared at the young man who suddenly seemed an alien, not a lover. Her face was very white. Slowly she rose from the couch and looked at him.

  "It didn't happen three or four weeks later," she said steadily, "and we are not married yet, remember! I don't know that I ever want to be married if that is the way you feel about it."

  There was a gravity in her voice that Tilford had never heard her use with him before.

  "Miss Maris, your little sister is crying for you, and I can't seem to stop her. I'm afraid she'll waken your mother!" came the low, authoritative voice of the nurse.

  Maris turned and flew up the stairs.

  Tilford gave an exasperated look after her and said to the nurse, "Will you kindly ask her what she did with the wedding invitations? I can't find them where we left them yesterday."

  The nurse gave him a calm glance and went upstairs without answering. But no word came from above, and Tilford presently took himself away.

  Upstairs Maris was having her hands full trying to quiet the little sufferer and wishing the doctor would hurry. She had no time just now to think about weddings. It seemed to her that all the troubles of the universe had suddenly fallen into her pleasant life and there was just nothing that could be done to right things. Everything was jumbled up. She didn't even want to think about Tilford. Just the memory of his handsome face turned her sick at heart. What was love anyway? Just a thing for fair weather?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Maris lay down on the bed beside her small sister, holding the hot little hand in her own, and her heart seemed just about as heavy as a heart could be.

  But she talked on, making up a ridiculous story about a canary bird that wore rubber boots and got the measles and had nice orange juice to drink out of a silver spoon, and all the time her subconscious mind was aware of the little boys outside playing ball and yelling to each other at the top of their lungs. Oh dear! She had tried to tell them their mother was sick, but they probably hadn't taken it in. It was good they were on this side of the house and not the other. Her mother perhaps could not hear them.

  But then they drew nearer, close to the house, and began shouting some altercation about whether the ball had been out or not, and suddenly bang! bang! bang! came the ball against the wall of her room, close by the window.

  The little girl started from her sleep.

  "What's that, Maris?" she asked, opening startled eyes.

  "It's only Eric and Alec throwing their ball against the house." She tried to answer in a sleepy tone. "I'll tell them to stop it." Then she called from the window.

  "Boys! Eric! Alec! Stop that! You'll disturb Mother! Can't you get some books or something and keep quiet for a little while?"

  "Okay!" said Eric with a frown. "Can't we go down by the pond? All the kids are down there!"

  Then she heard another voice, low-modulated, calling, "Hey, boys! How about coming over and helping me mark the tennis courts? Then we'll have a game or two before night."

  The boys turned, entranced, and looking down Maris saw Lane Maitland standing on the other side of the hedge that separated the property next door, vacant just now. Why, did the Maitlands still own the place? How nice that was of Lane to help her out! He must have heard her call the boys.

  As if he knew her thoughts, he lifted his eyes to the window.

  "How about that, Maris? Is that all right? I'll keep them the rest of the afternoon if you don't mind."

  "Oh, that's kind of you!" she breathed with a relieved smile. "Gwyneth has gone on an errand for the nurse, and Sally has her hands full. I'm afraid I have a case of measles up here."

  "Say, that's tough luck. Have the boys had it?"

  Maris shook her head.

  "Well, you can count on me for anything you need. I'll handle the boys for as long as you say. We might make a quarantine camp of our house if you find it really is measles. Go on back to your hospital, and I'll start a detention camp."

  He grinned pleasantly and walked off with the two delighted boys. Maris settled down to a few minutes' rest, her mind a tumult of troublesome questions.

  But it was not for long. The doctor arrived and things began to happen. Yes, decidedly, Alexa had the measles, and they were not behaving well, either. He took Maris into the playroom at the end of the back hall and told her how serious measles might become if they were not looked after most carefully. He gave most detailed directions and asked if she wanted him to get another nurse.

  "No! Oh, no!" she said, appalled at the thought of the expense that would be to her already overburdened father. "I want to take care of her myself. She is going to miss Mother so. Mother always takes care of her."

  The doctor grunted his approbation. This was a girl after his own heart. He had been afraid that she had been spoiled by her rich lover and his family, but she was running true to Mayberry tradition. She was loyal to her family.

  "Well, we'd better get the playroom fixed up for her," he said, considering the possibilities. "It's a little farther from your mother's room, and that will give you a comfortable place for yourself. This door opening into the playroom from your room makes it just ideal. And of course you'll have the nurse to consult with in case you have any questions. You couldn't have a better one than Bonny. She's had a lot of experience. Now, don't you worry. We'll pull this little girl through in great shape. It won't be long before we get this rash out. Hard lines, Maris, but you always were a brave little soldier, even the time you had to have that cut on your chin sewed up when you were a kid!"

  It was a relief, of course, to know that Alexa was not in such a serious condition as she had feared, but the immediate future loomed dismal and perplexing before her.

  Maris summoned Merrick, who had just come in, and stealthily they
moved Alexa's little white bed into the playroom, tiptoeing as silently as if they had been ghosts, till all was made comfortable for the little invalid. And then the nurse came and helped to get the child into the other bed, warming it carefully with warm blankets and water bottles, and little Alexa opened her heavy eyes and smiled at Maris.

  "This is funny, Maris. Sleeping in the playroom!" she said in a weak little voice.

  "Yes, isn't it, darling, and you can lie here and look right over to my bed in my room and wave at me in the morning. Won't that be nice?"

  "Wes."

  "Now, you're going to have some nice hot milk, and then you're going to go to sleep again and get well as quickly as you can."

  "Are you going to take care of mees, Maris?" she asked anxiously.

  "Yes. Won't that be fun, dear? We'll have some lovely times together when you get all better. Paper dollies and stories."

  "Wes. I wouldn't want a weal nurse. She's too gwowed-up and starchy. I want you for my nurse, Maris."

  "All right, if you'll be a good girl. You must do just what I say, and you mustn't make a noise to make Mother worse."

  "Okay!" she said sleepily, meekly swallowing the spoonfuls of hot milk and closing her eyes.

  Maris tiptoed into her own room to make up her bed afresh and then dropped down to rest a moment. But Gwyneth opened the door softly and peeked in, and Maris went out to speak with her.

  "What am I going to do about school, Maris?" asked the little girl. "Is it really measles?"

  "Yes, but you've had them, dear."

  "Doesn't make any difference," said Gwyneth sadly. "They won't let me keep coming to school if I'm living in the house with it. I just telephoned over to Miss Price, and she said, no, I'd have to stay somewhere else if I wanted to keep on coming. And Maris, it's exams in three weeks now, and I'd hate awfully to get left behind and not make my grade."

  Maris drew her brows in perplexity. How many problems there were that Mother usually settled.