A Day of Fate Part 33

"Why, Friend Morton, is it queer that we didn't turn thee out of doors or give thee in charge of the poormaster?"

"I certainly am the most fortunate man in the world," I said, laughing.

"I had broken myself down and was about to become very ill, and I started off in the dark and never stopped till I reached the shelter of Mrs. Yocomb's wing. If I should tell my experience in New York there'd be an exodus to the country among newspaper men."

"Thee mustn't do it," protested Mr. Yocomb, a.s.suming a look of dismay.

"Thee knows I'm down on editors: I make thee an exception."

"I should think you had; but they would not expect to be treated one hundredth part so well as you have treated me."

"Well, bring thy friends, editors or otherwise. Thy friends will be welcome."

"I fear I'll be selfish; I feel as if I had made too rich a discovery to show it to others."

"Now, father, thee's had thy turn, and must go right out and let Richard take his breakfast and his medicine. I'm bent on making Dr.

Bates say I'm the best nurse in town, and between such a lively patient and such a lively family I have a hard time of it."

"Well, thee knows I always mind, mother," said the old gentleman, putting on a rueful look. "I do it, thee knows, to set the children an example. Good-by now; mother will make thee as hearty as I am if thee'll mind her."

"Oh, I'm well enough to see _everybody_ to-day," I said with emphasis, and I imagine that Mrs. Yocomb gave as definite a meaning to my indefinite term as I did.

"No one can stay long yet, but if thee continues to improve so nicely, we can move thee downstairs part of the day before very long."

"At that prospect I'll mind as well as Mr. Yocomb himself," I cried gladly. "Mr. Yocomb, they are spoiling me. I feel like a great petted boy, and behave like one, I fear; but having never been ill, I don't know how to behave."

"Thee's doing very well for a beginner. Keep on--keep on," and his genial visage vanished from the doorway.

After I had my breakfast, Zillah flitted in and out with her mother two or three times.

"Mother says I can look at thee, but I mustn't talk;" and she wouldn't.

Then Adah, with her wide-brimmed hat hanging on her arm, brought me a dainty little basket of wild strawberries.

"I promised to gather them for thee," she said, placing them on my table.

"You did? I had forgotten that," I replied. "I fear my memory is playing me sad tricks. You have just gathered them, I think?"

"What makes thee think so?"

"Because their color has got into your cheeks."

"I hope thee'll like them--the strawberries, I mean."

I laughed heartily as I answered, "I like both. I don't see how either could be improved upon."

"I think thee likes a city pallor best," she replied, shaking her head.

I imagine that a faint tinge of the strawberry came into my face, for she gave me a quick glance and turned away.

"Adah," said Mrs. Yocomb, entering, "thee can take thy sewing and sit here by the door for a while. Call me if Richard wants anything. The doctor will be here soon."

"Would thee like to have me stay?" she asked timidly.

"Indeed I would. Mrs. Yocomb, can I eat these strawberries? I've devoured them with my eyes already."

"Yes, if the doctor says so, and thee'll promise not to talk much."

I made no promise, for I was bent on talking, as convalescents usually are, I believe, and Adah forgot her sewing, and her blue eyes rested on me with an intentness that at last grew a little embarra.s.sing. She said comparatively little, and her words had much of their old directness and simplicity; but the former flippancy and coloring of small vanity was absent. Her simple morning costume was scrupulously neat, and quite as becoming as the Sunday muslin which I had so admired, and she had fastened at her breastpin a rose that reminded me of the one I had given her on that wretched Sunday afternoon when she unconsciously and speedily dispelled the bright dream that I had woven around her.

"For some reason she has changed very much," I thought, "and I'm glad it's for the better."

Zillah came in, and leaned on her lap as she asked her a question or two. "Surely the little girl would not have done that the first day I met her," I mused, then added aloud:

"You are greatly changed, Miss Adah. What has happened to you?"

She blushed vividly at my abrupt question, and did not answer for a moment. Then she began hesitatingly:

"From what mother says, it's time I changed a little."

"I think Zillah likes you now as she does Miss Warren."

"No, she likes Emily Warren best--so does every one."

"You are mistaken. Zillah could not have looked at Miss Warren differently from the way in which she just looked at you. You have no idea what a pretty picture you two then made."

"I did not think about it."

"I imagine you don't think about yourself as much as you did. Perhaps that's the change I'm conscious of."

"I don't think about myself at all any more," and she bent low over her work.

Dr. Bates now entered with Mrs. Yocomb, and Adah slipped quietly away.

After strong professions of satisfaction at my rapid convalescence, and giving a medicine that speedily produced drowsiness, he too departed.

I roused up slightly from time to time as the day declined, and finding Reuben quietly busy at his carving, dozed again in a delicious, dreamy restfulness. In one of these half-waking moments I heard a low voice ask:

"Reuben, may I come in?"

Sleep departed instantly, and I felt that I must be stone dead before I could be unmoved by those tones, now as familiar as if heard all my life.

"Yes, please come," I exclaimed; "and you have been long in coming."

Reuben sprang up with alacrity as he said, "I'm glad thee's come, Emily. Would thee mind staying with Richard for a little while? I want to take Dapple out before night. If I don't, he gets fractious."

"I will take your place for a time, and will call Mrs. Yocomb if Mr.

Morton needs anything."

"I a.s.sure you I won't need anything as long as you'll stay," I began, as soon as we were alone. "I want to thank you for the rosebuds. They were taken away this morning; but I had them brought back and placed here where I could touch them. They seemed to bring back that June evening in the old garden so vividly that I've lived the scene over and over again."