A Dear Little Girl's Summer Holidays Part 14

"You're going to stay to dinner, Mr. Horner said so," Jennie told Ben in a satisfied voice.

"And do you know what we are going to do to-morrow?"

"No. What are you going to do?"

"We are going to have our breakfast on the yacht." Ben gave this information as if it were a great piece of news.

"But I thought you always did that."

"So we do."

Jennie looked puzzled, but Edna laughed. It was so like cousin Ben to do that way. "It is so nice to have you here," said Edna, fondling the hand that held hers. She and the others had settled it that as Ben was her own cousin she had prior claim to his right hand and the other two hung on his left arm, getting in one another's way a great deal in an effort to establish an equal right.

Ben's presence at the lunch table kept the little girls in a state of giggles, which was aggravated by the inquiring look Uncle Justus would give them over his spectacles once in a while, as if he would say, Why all this merriment when there is no apparent cause?

It was at the lunch table that Mr. Ramsey proposed a sailing party for the next afternoon. "I have been promising these young people for some time that I would take them out," he said. "Old Cap'n Si has a good boat, and Mrs. Ramsey has promised we shall have a supper to take with us. Gosling Island is a pretty place, and I think you will all enjoy the sail. What do you say, Mr. Horner? Will you and Ben go with us?"

"I cannot speak for my young friend," replied Mr. Horner, "but for myself, I should be delighted to go, especially as you and your good lady are to be my shipmates."

At the words "good lady," Ben opened his eyes very wide at Edna and she collapsed into a fresh attack of giggles while Ben turned gravely to Mr. Ramsey to say, "And I shall be delighted, too, Mr. Ramsey. I think it will give the boys on the yacht a treat if I spare them my presence for one afternoon."

"Now, Benjamin, you are entirely too modest," said Mr. Horner. "He is quite the life of the party, Mr. Ramsey, I a.s.sure you. They will not miss an old fogy like me, but young blood like Ben's gives a great infusion of spirits."

The little girls stole a glance at Ben. He had meekly folded his hands and was looking down with such an expression of humility that not only the little girls but Mrs. Ramsey had to laugh. Truly it was anything but a solemn meal.

The next day dawned bright and fair to the delight of three rather anxious little girls who were fearful lest gray skies would put a stop to any plans for the sailing party. But alas, as the day wore on it became more and more doubtful whether one of the three little maids would be able to go, for Edna, who waked with a little headache, became worse and worse, and by lunch time found it would be impossible for her to eat anything, and could be comfortable only when lying down.

She was so disappointed and tried to persuade herself that the feeling of dizziness would pa.s.s away, and that she would be better by the time they were ready to start.

However, it was Mrs. Ramsey who finally decided that she must not think of going. "Dearie," she said, "I am much afraid you would be worse for going. It isn't everyone who can go in a sailing vessel without being seasick, and I am a little doubtful for Dorothy and Miss Eloise, but in your present condition I am very sure it would be anything but a pleasure to you."

Jennie who stood by listening with much concern, spoke up. "Couldn't we put it off, Mother?"

"I think we can promise to go another time, but not with the same party, for the yacht will continue her cruise up the coast, so Ben tells me, and will not be here after to-morrow morning. Your father wants particularly to have Mr. Horner go with us, you see--"

"Then I'm not going," said Jennie decidedly.

Edna raised herself on her elbow. "Indeed you must," she said. "I think it is lovely of you, Jennie, to want to stay, but you see, I couldn't play or do anything but lie still, and I should be very unhappy if you were to stay on my account. Please say she must go, Mrs. Ramsey. If she stays, then Dorothy will think she must and it will spoil it for so many that it wouldn't do at all."

"I think Jennie ought to go," said Mrs. Ramsey, after a moment's thought, "for we have asked Mrs. Duncan and her little girl, but I shall stay to take care of you."

Edna raised her head again. "Oh, but Mrs. Ramsey, that will be just as bad. I am not so ill as that, indeed I am not. It is only that I feel dizzy when I raise my head. If I keep very quiet I may be well by the time you can get back. Besides, if it isn't polite for Jennie to stay home because you have invited Grace Duncan, then it wouldn't be polite for you because you have invited Mrs. Duncan."

Mrs. Ramsey smiled at this laying down of the law, but continued, "I am sure our friends will understand why I am not going when it is explained to them."

"Oh, but," Edna went on, "I shall be much sicker if you stay, because I shall feel as if it were all on my account. It makes me sicker just to think of it. Please, dear Mrs. Ramsey, go. Emma can take care of me and I shall not want anything, but just to keep still."

She looked so imploring and was really so distressed that Mrs. Ramsey wavered. "I am sure it is not a very serious illness," she admitted, "and Emma is really a very good nurse. I could leave word with her to telephone for the doctor if you were to grow worse, I suppose."

"Oh, yes, that will be all right, and I shall not be any worse unless you stay at home."

"In that case," returned Mrs. Ramsey smiling, "it would seem the wisest plan for me to go. I will tell Emma to keep within hearing. She can take her mending in the next room and sit there, or would you rather lie on the divan in the living-room?"

"I'll stay here for awhile, and if I get better I can go down there,"

Edna decided.

So, in due course of time they all left her, with many protestations, and loving farewells. "If you can get to sleep," said Mrs. Ramsey, "I think you will wake up feeling better. Emma can darken the room and it will be very quiet."

So off they went, and Edna turned with a little sigh of regret and tried to compose herself to sleep. She closed her eyes and presently heard Emma tip-toeing about the room, softly drawing down the shades.

After all it was rather pleasant and restful to lie there undisturbed, to know that nothing was expected of her, and that she did not have to pretend to feel better than she really was. Her head did not ache so badly when she kept perfectly still, and there was Emma near at hand if she should want anything. She heard the gentle plash of the water on the beach, and once in a while the distant "Putter, putter" of a motor-boat, but that was all. She wondered if Ben would miss her. She was sure Uncle Justus would. They were all getting in the boat now, and now they were sailing off, sailing off, and presently Edna herself sailed off, too, into the sea of Dreams.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FIRE

For about half an hour the child slept peacefully. Once or twice Emma stole softly in to find her with hand under a cheek, now rather pale, and with red lips half-smiling as if in a pleasant dream. "Bless the child, it's nothin' but a sick-headache," whispered Emma. "She'll be all the better for the sleep." At the end of the half hour Edna stirred, sighed, opened her eyes and then sat up. The dizzy feeling was nearly gone.

Emma came to the door. "Well," she said, "and how are you feeling?"

"A good deal better," said Edna cheerfully. "I think I'll get up and go down to the living-room, Emma."

"Do you feel equal to it?" asked Emma.

"Oh, yes I think I do. Besides the sun is coming in here now, and I've been here all day, so I'd like a change."

"Then I'll tell you there's someone down there waiting for you. He wouldn't have you disturbed, but said I was to bring him word when you waked up. He's been there about a quarter of an hour, I should say, but he said he would amuse himself with the papers and magazines, and you were not to hurry on his account."

This didn't sound as if it could be Louis, as Edna at first supposed it might be. He had not been asked to go on the sailing party, and could easily have come over. "It isn't my cousin Louis Morrison, is it?" she asked.

"No, it's the owld gintleman with the eyebrows. I don't just remember the name."

"Why, it must be Uncle Justus," cried Edna getting up with alacrity.

"He was to have gone sailing with the others. I wonder why he didn't go. Is it the gentleman who was here to lunch yesterday, Emma?"

"That very same."

"Oh, then I'll go right down."

She slowly descended the stairs. After all her head did still feel a little queer, and she was rather faint from eating nothing since breakfast, so she did not enter the room with her usual animation, and Uncle Justus did not see her till she had nearly reached his side. Then he looked up over his spectacles. "Well, well, well," he cried, "how is my little girl feeling?"

He held out his arms and Edna went to him. "I'm feeling a little better," she said, as he took her on his knee and settled her comfortably with her head against his shoulder.

"Poor little lamb," he murmured, "poor little lamb. I am so sorry--we were all sorry to hear about the headache."

"But, Uncle Justus, I thought you were going on the sailing party."