A Little Girl in Old New York Part 38

"Margaret, what must I do to serve Him?"

"I think trying to make people happier is one service. Being helpful and obedient, and taking up the little trials cheerfully, when we have to do the things we don't quite like."

"I wish you would tell me something hard that I do not like to do."

"Suppose I said I would not go out and play with the girls this afternoon."

"I'd rather not of myself," said Hanny. "I feel like being still and thinking."

Margaret smiled down in the sweet, serious face. There was no trial she could impose.

"Then think of the beautiful land where Miss Lois has gone, where no one will be sick or tired or lonely, where the flowers are always blooming and there is no winter, where all is peace and love."

"But I don't understand--how you get to heaven," said the puzzled child.

"No one knows until the time comes. Then G.o.d shows us the way, and because He is there we do not have any terror. We just go to Him. It is a great mystery. No one can quite explain it."

Elsie Hay came for her, but she said she was not going out, that she did not feel like playing. She brought her sewing, and in her mind wandered about heaven, seeing Miss Lois in her new body.

They did not take her to the funeral. She went over to Daisy Jasper's and read to her, wondering a little if Daisy would be glad to go where she would be well and strong and have no more pain. But then she would have to leave her father and mother who loved her so very much.

Miss Lois had left some keepsakes to Margaret. Two beautiful old brocaded silk gowns that looked like pictures, some fine laces, and a pretty painted fan that had been done expressly for her when she was young. A white embroidered lawn for Hanny, a pearl ring and six silver spoons, besides some curious old books. Mrs. Underhill was to take whatever she liked, and dispose of the rest. The good German neighbor was to have the house and lot for the care she had taken of both ladies.

Mr. Underhill had arranged this some time before, so there would be no trouble.

Everything in the house was old and well worn. There was a little china of value, and the rest was turned over to the kindly neighbor.

Margaret and Hanny went up to visit grandmother, both grandmothers, indeed. The old Van Kortlandt house was a curiosity in its way, and though Hanny had seen it before she was not old enough to appreciate it.

The satin brocade furniture was faded, the great gilt-framed mirrors tarnished, and all the bedsteads had high posts and hanging curtains, and a valance round the lower part. Aunt Katrina was there and a cousin Rhynders, a small, withered-up old man who played beautifully on a jewsharp, and who sang, in a rather tremulous but still sweet voice, songs that seemed quite fascinating to Hanny, pathetic old ballads such as one finds in "The Ballad Book" of a hundred years ago. There was an old woman in the kitchen who scolded the two farmhands continually; a beautiful big dog and a cross mastiff who was kept chained, as well as numerous cats, but Grandmother Van Kortlandt despised cats.

It was delightful to get home again, though now Elsie and Florence had gone to see their grandmother, and the Deans were away also. But Daisy Jasper kissed her dozens of times, and said she had missed her beyond everything and she would not have known how to get along but for Dr.

Joe. Hanny had so much to tell her about the journey and her relatives.

"And I haven't even any grandmother," said Daisy. "There is one family of cousins in Kentucky, and one in Canada. So you see I am quite dest.i.tute."

Both little girls laughed at that.

Dr. Joe said Daisy was really improving. She walked about with her crutch, but they were afraid one leg would be a little short.

Charles came over to see Hanny that very evening. He certainly had grown taller, and had lost much of his timidity. He really "talked up" to Jim.

He was so fair and with the sort of sweet expression that was considered girlish, and kept himself so very neat, that he was different from most boys. I don't suppose his mother ever realized how much mortification and persecution it had cost him.

She still toiled from morning to night. Charles began to wish she would wear a pretty gown and collar and a white ap.r.o.n at supper time instead of the dreadful faded ginghams. Everything had a faded look with her, she washed her clothes so often, swept her carpets, and scrubbed her oil-cloths so much. The only thing she couldn't fade was the window-gla.s.s.

Charles and his father had grown quite confidential. They had talked about school and college.

"Though I am afraid I don't want to be a minister," said Charles, drawing a long breath as if he had given utterance to a very wicked thought.

"You shall have your own choice about it," replied his father firmly.

"And there's no hurry."

It had been such a pleasure to walk down-town every morning with his father. Broadway was fresh and clean, and the breeze came up from the river at every corner. There were not so many people nor factories, and there were still some lots given over to gra.s.sy s.p.a.ces and shrubs.

Walking to business was considered quite the thing then.

He had a great deal to tell Hanny about "our" store, and what "we" were doing. The new beautiful stock that was coming in, for then it took from twelve to sixteen days to cross the ocean, and you had to order quite in advance. He had learned to play several tunes on the accordeon, and he hoped his father would let him take his four weeks' wages and buy one.

And Mr. Gerard had said he should be very happy to have all the girls and their mothers come down some afternoon.

"And if Daisy only could go!"

"Isn't she beautiful?" said Charles. "She looks like an angel. Her short golden hair is like the glory they put around the saints and the Saviour, an aureole they call it."

"What a beautiful word."

"I thought at first she would die. But your brother is sure she will live now. Only it's such a pity----" the boy's voice faltered a little from intense sympathy.

Hanny sighed too. She knew what he meant to say. But the children refrained from giving it a name. "Hanny, I think it's just splendid to be a doctor. To help people and encourage them when you can't cure them.

He said one night when he stopped at the Deans that she might have been dreadfully deformed, and now it will not be very bad, that when her lovely hair gets grown out again it will not show much. I'm so glad."

They had cut the golden ringlets close to her head, for she could not be disturbed during those critical weeks in the hospital.

When the Deans came home there was great rejoicing. And since there was such a little time left for Charles to stay in the store they could not wait for Elsie and Flossie.

"If we _could_ take Daisy," Hanny said to Joe. He dropped in nearly every evening now. The city was very healthy in spite of August weather, and young doctors were not wont to be overrun with calls.

"I don't see why you shouldn't. It would be the best thing in the world for her to go out, and to be with other children and have some interests in common with them. Yes, let us go down and see."

The family were all out on the stoop and the little paved court. They were so screened from observation. Dr. Joe came and stood by Daisy's chair, while Hanny sat on a stool and held the soft hand. Then he preferred the children's request.

"Oh, it would be lovely!" Then the pale face flushed. "I don't believe I--could."

"Why not?" asked Dr. Joe.

There was no immediate answer. Mrs. Jasper said hesitatingly: "Would it be wise, doctor? One cannot help being--well, sensitive."

"Yet you do not want to keep this little girl forever secluded. There are so many enjoyable things in the world. It is not even as if Daisy had brothers and sisters who were coming in hourly with all manner of freshness and fun."

"I can't bear people to look at me so. I can almost hear what they say----"

Daisy's voice broke in a short sob.

"My dear child," Dr. Joe took the other hand and patted it caressingly.

"It is very sad and a great misfortune, but if you had to remember that it came from the violence of a drunken father, or the carelessness of an inefficient mother, it would seem a harder burden to bear. We can't tell why G.o.d allows some very sad events to happen, but when they do come we must look about for the best means of bearing them. G.o.d has seen fit to make a restoration to health and comparative strength possible. I think He means you to have some enjoyment as well. And when one gets used to bearing a burden it does not seem so heavy. Your parents are prosperous enough to afford you a great many indulgences, and you must not refuse them from a spirit of undue sensitiveness. And then, my little girl, G.o.d has given you such a beautiful face that it cannot help but attract.

Can't you be brave enough to take the pleasures that come to you without darkening them by a continual sense of the misfortune?"

Daisy was crying now. Dr. Joe pressed the small figure to his heart, and kissed her forehead. He had been unusually interested in the case, but he knew now some effort must be made, some mental pain endured, or her life would drop to weariness. Mrs. Jasper was very sensitive to comment herself.

Mr. Jasper began to walk up and down the path.

"Yes, doctor," he exclaimed; "what you say is true. You have been such a good friend to my little girl. We want her to be happy and to have some companionship. The children up your way have been very kind and sympathetic. I like that young lad extremely. It is only at first that the thing seems so hard. Daisy, I think I would go."