Cap'n Dan's Daughter Part 56

"How is she?" he whispered.

"She is asleep now," whispered the nurse in reply. "You must not come in."

"I wasn't goin' to. But--but--has she been askin' for me?"

"Yes. I told her you were out. If she wakes and asks for you I will call. You may see her then for a minute or two. She is easier when you are with her--or near by."

This was true. The one person Serena wished to see most of all was her husband. She asked for Gertrude, of course, but it was Daniel for whom she asked continually. If he were near her she seemed almost happy and contented. It was when he sat beside the bed that she ceased tossing upon the pillow and lay quiet, looking at him.

"You are a good man, Daniel," she whispered, on one of these occasions.

"A dear, good, unselfish man."

"No, no, I ain't any such thing," protested the captain hastily.

"But you are. And--and WHAT should I do without you now?"

"Sh-sh! I'm not much help. Land knows I wish I was more."

"You ARE the help; all the help I have. Gertie--Daniel, you will keep an eye on Gertie, won't you. You won't let her do anything foolish."

"Who? Gertie? She won't do foolish things. She ain't that kind."

"I know, but she has changed so. It worries me. Percy--"

"Now don't you worry about Percy. He isn't here now."

"Not here? Where is he?"

"I don't know. He's gone away--for a spell, anyhow. Maybe that vacation he used to talk about is over. I guess that's it."

Serena was too weak to ask further questions, even concerning so surprising a matter as Cousin Percy's sudden departure. But she did make one further plea.

"Daniel," she begged, "if Annette calls about the Chapter you tell her--"

"I've told her. She understands. She says it's all right."

"Does she? I'm so glad. Oh, Daniel, you'll have to take charge of everything now. I can't, and Gertrude--you must do it, yourself, Daniel.

You MUST. Of Azuba and Gertie and everything. I rely on you. You WILL, won't you, Daniel?"

"Sure I will. I'm skipper now, Serena. You ought to see how the hands jump when I give an order."

It was true, too; the hands did "jump" at the captain's orders. He was skipper, for the time being. His wife's illness, Mr. Hungerford's absence, Gertrude's meekness--she was a silent and conscience-stricken young lady--all combined to strengthen Daniel's resolution, and he was, for the first time in years, the actual head of the household. He took active charge of the bills and financial affairs, he commanded Azuba to do this and that, he saw the callers who came and he sent them to the rightabout in a hurry.

His statement concerning Mrs. Black was not the literal truth. Annette had called, that was true; she had called the very next morning after her chief aide was stricken. But she had not declared that everything was "all right"; far from it.

"But can't I see her, Captain Dott?" she begged. "I MUST see her for just a minute."

"Sorry, ma'am, but you can't do it. Doctor's orders. She mustn't be disturbed."

"But I've got to see her. I must talk with her."

"I know, but I'm afraid you can't. You can talk to me, if that will do any good."

"It won't. Of course it won't. Where is Gertrude? Let me talk to her."

Daniel climbed the stairs to his daughter's room. He found her sitting at her desk; she had been writing "regrets" in answer to various invitations. She turned a careworn face in his direction.

"What is it, Daddy?" she asked. "Mother is not worse, is she?"

"No, no; she's better, if anything. But that--er--Annette Black has come and, long as she can't see Serena, she wants to talk to you."

"About her precious politics, I suppose."

"Your supposin' is as nigh right as anything mortal can be, Gertie.

That's what she wants."

"I can't see her. I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear the word politics. I--"

"That's enough, that's enough. I'll 'tend to HER. You stay right here."

He descended to the drawing-room, where Annette was fidgeting on the edge of a chair, and announced calmly that Gertrude was not at home.

The caller's agitation got the better of her temper.

"Nonsense!" she snapped. "I don't believe it. How do you know she isn't?"

"Because she said so. Lovely mornin' for a walk, isn't it?"

Mrs. Black rose and stalked to the threshold. But there she turned once more.

"If your wife knew," she cried hysterically, "how I, her best friend, was treated in her house, she--she--"

Daniel stepped forward. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Black," he said. "Maybe I have been pretty plain spoken. I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelin's.

But, you see, we're all upset here. I'm upset, and Gertie's as much so as the rest. She can't talk to you, or anybody else, now. I'm willin' to try, but you say my talkin' won't do any good."

"Of course it won't. Oh, don't you SEE? I'm sorry Serena is not well, but this is IMPORTANT."

"I know, but so's her health, 'cordin' to my thinkin'."

"If I might see her just a moment. It is so provoking. Just at this critical time! Doesn't my--her election mean ANYTHING to you? Don't you care about the cause?"

The captain shook his head. "All I'm carin' for is my wife, just now,"

he said. "She's all I can think about. If some of us had thought more about her, maybe--" He stopped, cleared his throat, and added: "I know you'll understand and forgive us, when you think it over. I'll tell her you called. Good-mornin'."

If he supposed this was the end, he was mistaken. Annette was not so easily whipped or discouraged. She called again that afternoon, and again the next day. Each morning for a week she came, and, between times, other adherents of the Black-Dott party called. They all asked concerning the invalid, but their interest plainly centered upon her part in the campaign. Would she be well enough to take part in the election, that was the question. They sent flowers and notes. The flowers reached the lady for whom they were intended; the notes did not. And, after the first week, the calls became fewer. Annette and her followers had, apparently, given up hope of aid and advice from their candidate for vice-president. At any rate they ceased to trouble the captain and his daughter.

"It's all the better, Daddy, dear," said Gertrude. "Mother will have a chance to rest and improve now."