Janet's Love and Service Part 31

There is no danger. She will soon be as well as usual, I think."

But it was not very soon. Indeed, it was a long time before Graeme was as well as usual; not until the leaves on the willows had grown withered and grey, and the summer had quite gone. Not until kind Doctor McCulloch had come almost daily for many weeks--long enough for him to become much interested in both patient and nurse.

A wonderful nurse Rose proved herself to be. At first something was said about introducing a more experienced person into Graeme's chamber, but both Rose and Nelly Anderson objected so decidedly to this, and aided and abetted one another so successfully in their opposition to it, that the design was given up on condition that Rosie kept well and cheerful to prove her claim to the t.i.tle of nurse. She kept cheerful, but she grew tall and thin, and a great deal too quiet to be like herself, her brothers thought; so whatever was forgotten or neglected during the day, Rosie must go out with one of them for a long walk while the other stayed with Graeme, and by this means the health and spirits of the anxious little lady were kept from failing altogether. For indeed the long days and nights might well be trying to the child, who had never needed to think twice about her own comfort all her life, and who was now quite too acutely sensible, how much the comfort of all the rest depended upon her. But she bore the trial well, and indeed came to the conclusion, that it was quite as pleasant to be made useful, to be trusted and consulted, and depended upon, as to be petted and played with by her brothers. She quite liked the sense of responsibility, especially when Graeme began to get well again, and though she got tired very often, and grew pale now and then, they all agreed afterward that this time did Rose no harm, but a great deal of good.

As for Nelly Anderson, circ.u.mstances certainly developed her powers in a most extraordinary manner--not as a nurse, however. Her efforts in that line were confined to rambling excursions about the sick-room in her stockinged-feet, and to earnest entreaties to Graeme not to lose heart.

But in the way of dinners and breakfasts, she excited the astonishment of the household, and her own most of all. When Arthur had peremptorily forbidden that any reference should be made to Graeme in household matters, Nelly had helplessly betaken herself to Rose, and Rose had as helplessly betaken herself to "Catherine Beecher." Nothing short of the state of absolute despair in which she found herself, would have induced Nelly to put faith in a "printed book," in any matter where the labour of her hands was concerned. But her accomplishments as a cook did not extend the making of "porridge" or the "choppin' of potatoes," and more was required. So with fear and trembling, Rose and she "laid their heads together," over that invaluable guide to inexperienced housekeepers, and the result was success--indeed a series of successes.

For emboldened by the favourable reception of their efforts, Nelly want on and prospered; and Rose, content that she should have all the honour of success, permitted her to have all the responsibility also.

Almost every morning Rose had a walk, either with Harry to his office, or with Will, to the school, while Arthur stayed with Graeme. The walk was generally quick enough to bring a bright colour to her cheeks, and it was always a merry time if Harry was with her, and then she was ready for her long day at home. She sometimes lingered on the way back. On the broad shady pavements of the streets she used to choose, when she was alone, she made many a pause to watch the little children at their play. She used to linger, too, wherever the ugly brick walls had been replaced by the pretty iron railings, with which every good rich man will surround his gardens, in order that they who have no gardens of their own may have a chance to see something beautiful too. And whenever she came to an open gate, the pause was long. She was in danger then of forgetting her womanliness and her gravity, and of exclaiming like a little girl, and sometimes she forgot herself so far as to let her feet advance farther up the gravel walk than in her sober moments she would have considered advisable.

One bright morning, as she returned home, she found herself standing before the large house on the other side of the street. For the first time she found the large gate wide open. There was no one in sight, and taking two steps forward, Rose saw more of the pretty garden within than she had ever seen before. She had often been tempted to walk round the smooth broad walks of other gardens, but second thoughts had always prevented her. This time she did not wait for second thoughts, but deliberately determined to walk round the carriage way without leave asked or given.

The garden belonged to Mr Elphinstone, a great man--at least a great merchant in the eyes of the world. One of Rose's amus.e.m.e.nts during the time she was confined in her sister's sick-room was to watch the comings and goings of his only child, a girl only a little older than Rose herself. Sometimes she was in a little pony-carriage, which she drove herself; sometimes she was in a large carriage driven by a grave-looking coachman with a very glossy hat, and very white gloves. Rosie used to envy her a little when she saw her walking about in the garden gathering the flowers at her own will.

"How happy she must be!" she thought now, as she stood gazing about her.

"If she is a nice young lady, as I am almost sure she is, she would rather that I enjoyed her flowers than not. At any rate I am going to walk round just once--and then go."

But it was not an easy matter to get round the circle. It was not a very large one, but there were flowers all round it, and Rosie pa.s.sed slowly on lost in wonder and delights as some strange blossom presented itself. It took a long time to pa.s.s quite round, and before this was accomplished, her footsteps were arrested by a splendid cardinal flower, that grow within the shadow of the wall. It was not quite a stranger.

She had gathered a species of it often in the low banks of the pond; and as she bent over it with delight, a voice startled her--

"You should have soon it a while ago. It is past its best now."

Rose turning saw the gardener, and hastily stammering an excuse, prepared to go. But he did not seem to understand that she was an intruder.

"If you'll come, round this way I'll show you flowers that are worth looking at," said he.

"He thinks I am a visitor," said Rose to herself. "I'm sure I admire his flowers as much as any of them can do. It won't trouble him much to show them to me, and I'll just go with him."

So picking up her bonnet that had fallen on the walk, she followed him, a little frightened at her own boldness, but very much elated. She did not think the garden grew prettier as they went on, and her conductor hurried her past a great many pretty squares and circles without giving her time to admire them. He stopped at last before a long, narrow bed, where the flowers were growing without regard to regularity as to arrangement; but oh! Such colouring! Such depth and richness! What verbenas and heliotropes!--what purples--crimsons--scarlets! Rose could only gaze and wonder and exclaim, while her friend listened, and was evidently well pleased with her delight.

At last it was time to go, and Rose sighed as she said it. But she thanked him with sparkling eyes for his kindness, and added deprecatingly--

"I am not a visitor here. I saw the gate open and came in. I couldn't help it."

It was a small matter to her new friend whether she were a visitor at the great house or not.

"You ken a flower when you see it," said he, "and that's more than can be said of some of the visitors here."

He led the way round the garden till they came to a summer-house covered with a flowering vine, which was like nothing ever Rose had seen before.

"It was just like what a bower ought to be," she told Graeme, afterwards. "It was just like a lady's bower in a book."

There was a little mound before it, upon which and in the borders close by grew a great many flowers. Not rare flowers, such as she had just been admiring, but flowers sweet and common, pansies and thyme, sweet peas and mignonette. It was Miss Elphinstone's own bower, the gardener said, and these were her favourite flowers. Rose bent over a pale little blossom near the path--

"What is this?" asked she; and then she was sorry, fearing to have it spoiled by some long unp.r.o.nounceable name.

"Surely you have seen that--and you from Scotland? That's a gowan."

"A gowan!" She was on her knees beside it in a moment. "Is it the real gowan, 'that glints on bank and brae'? No, I never saw one; at least I don't remember. I was only a child when I came away. Oh! how Graeme would like to see them. And I must tell Janet. A real gowan! 'Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower'--you mind? And here is a white one, 'With silver crest and golden eye.' Oh! if Graeme could only see them!

Give me just one for my sister who is ill. She has gathered them on the braes at home."

"Ahem! I don't know," said her friend, in a changed voice. "These are Miss Elphinstone's own flowers. I wouldna just like to meddle with them. But you can ask her yourself."

Rose turned. The pretty young lady of the pony-carriage, was standing beside her. Rose's confusion was too deep for words. She felt for a minute as though she must run away, but thought better of it, and murmured something about the flowers being so beautiful, and about not wishing to intrude. The young lady's answer was to stoop down and gather a handful of flowers, gowans, sweet peas, violets and mignonette.

When she gave them into Rose's hand she asked,--

"Is your sister very ill? I have seen the doctor going often to your house."

"She is getting better now. She has been very ill. The doctor says she will soon be well."

"And have you taken care of her all the time? Is there no one else?"

"I have taken care of her, Nelly Anderson and I, all the day, and our brothers are home at night."

"I am glad she is getting better. Is she fond of flowers. Mr Stirling is thinking I haven't arranged mine nicely, but you can do that when you put them in water, you know."

"Oh! thank you. They are beautiful. Yes, Graeme is very fond of flowers. This will be like a bit of summer to her, real summer in the country, I mean. And besides, she has gathered gowans on the braes at home."

"I am a Canadian," said the young lady. "I never saw the 'gowany braes,' but I shall see them soon."

They had reached the gate by this time.

"Come again, soon. Come into the garden, whenever you like. I am sure Mr Stirling will like to show you his flowers, you are so fond of them.

I think a few of his would improve your bouquet."

Mr Stirling touched his hat to his young lady.

"I shall be proud to show the flowers to Miss Rose, and I shall have the honour of making her a bouquet soon." The young lady laughed.

"You are to be a favourite. Is your name Rose," added she, lingering by the gate.

"Yes, Rose Elliott. I am the youngest. We all live over there, my brothers, and Graeme and I. It would be a dreary place, if it were not for the glimpse we get of your garden. Look, there is Nelly looking for me. I am afraid I have hindered Arthur. Thank you very much, and good-bye."

Rose shyly put forth her hand. The young lady took it in both hers, and drawing her within the gate again, kissed her softly, and let her go.

"Stirling," said she, as she turned toward the house, "how did you know the young lady's name is Rose? is she a friend of yours? Do you know her?"

"I know her face, that is all I have seen her for hours together, looking in on the garden from that upper window. And whiles she looks through the gate. I heard her brothers calling her Rose. She's a bonny la.s.sie, and kens a flower when she sees it."

That night, Nelly was startled into a momentary forgetfulness of her thick shoes, and her good manners, and came rushing into Graeme's room, where they were all sitting after tea, bearing a bouquet, which a man, "maybe a gentleman," Nelly seemed in doubt, had sent in with his compliments to Miss Rose Elliott. A bouquet! it would have won the prize at any floral exhibition in the land, and never after that, while the autumn frosts spared them, were they without flowers. Even when the autumn beauties hung shrivelled and black on their stems, and afterwards, when the snows of winter lay many feet above the pretty garden beds, many a rare hot-house blossom brightened the little parlour, where by that time Graeme was able to appear.

"For," said Mr Stirling, to the admiring Nelly, "such were Miss Elphinstone's directions before she went away, and besides, directions or no directions, the flowers are well bestowed on folk that take real pleasure in their beauty."

The autumn and winter pa.s.sed pleasantly away. As Graeme grew strong, she grew content. The children were well and happy, and Arthur's business was prospering in a wonderful way, and all anxiety about ways and means, might be put aside for the present. They often heard from Norman, and from their friends in Merleville, and Graeme felt that with so much to make her thankful and happy, it would be ungrateful indeed to be otherwise.

In the spring, they removed to another house. It was in town, but compared with the only one they had left, it seemed to be quite in the country. For the street was not closely built up, and it stood in the middle of a little garden, which soon became beautiful under the transforming hands of Rose and her brothers. There was a green field behind the house too, and the beautiful mountain was plainly visible from it; and half an hour's walk could take them to more than one place, where there was not a house to be seen. The house itself, seemed like a palace, after the narrow brick one they had just left. It was larger than they needed, Graeme thought, and the rent was higher than they could well afford, but the garden was enough to content them with everything else. It was a source of health, if not of wealth, to them all, and a never failing source of delight besides. Their new home was quite away from Mr Stirling's end of town, but he found time to come and look at their garden every week or two; and his gifts of roots, and seeds, and good advice were invaluable.

This was a short and pleasant summer to them all. It is wonderful how much pleasure can be made out of the quiet every-day duties of life, by young and happy people on the watch for pleasant things. To Will and Rosie everything was delightful. The early marketing with Nelly, to which Graeme and Arthur, and sometimes even Harry was beguiled, never lost its charm for them. Harry had lived in town, long enough, to permit himself to be a little scornful of the pleasure which the rest took, in wandering up and down among the vegetables and fruits, and other wares in the great market, and made himself merry over Rosie's penchant for making acquaintance with the old French woman and little children whom they met. He mystified Rose and her friends by his free interpretation of both French and English, and made the rest merry too; so it was generally considered a great thing when he could be induced to rise early enough to go with them.