Mostly Mary Part 7

"But I didn't need to buy anything when you and Father were always giving me things--even pretty pencils for school. But there is something that I would like to buy now. You can tell me whether it is just the best thing to get for those poor, sick children. I might have asked Sister Julia, but she was reading her prayer book when I thought of it."

"Let me hear what you have in mind for them."

"I think it would be nice to send each of them a little blooming plant.

It would last ever so much longer than cut flowers, and they could watch it grow and see the new flowers come out. See that chrysanthemum on the window sill? Mr. Daniel at Maryvale sent it in to me this morning; and the sun made two buds blossom right out."

"It is a beautiful plant. I have been wondering where it came from, but you have not given me a chance to ask. As for your little plan, it is an excellent one and will make several little folks, who never see so much as a dandelion, very happy indeed."

Thinking of others who had never known the blessings with which her own life was overflowing, and planning with her father and uncle to bring a little sunshine into their cheerless homes, Mary did not find the days of her illness so very, very long. She was doing so well that everyone in the house was looking forward to having her once more among them; and she herself was counting the hours until she could again be with her mother and little sisters.

CHAPTER VII.

THE SHADOW FALLS.

"I s'pose the twinnies have grown ever so much, Father," she remarked one evening when she was able to sit up in a big arm chair.

"Well, I have not seen Mother letting out any tucks or hems in their dresses; but," and Mr. Selwyn's eyes danced, "I must admit that they are somewhat better-looking."

Surely, the little bird _must_ have been at Maryvale that day, and Mary thought it very strange that she had not caught a glimpse of it. She had seen some sparrows, robins, and thrushes; but she was quite sure that the particular little bird of which Aunt Mandy had so often spoken was different from any of these. It certainly had very large ears to be able to hear what she had _whispered_ to her aunt when they were sitting at such a distance from the window. She started at a thought which came to her.

"Father, have you ever seen the little bird that tells Aunt Mandy so many things? Do you think it can hear what a person is just _thinking_ about?"

Mr. Selwyn coughed to hide a smile.

"No, dear, I have never seen that particular little bird; and no one but G.o.d knows our thoughts unless we show them in our faces or actions."

"Please take me on your lap, Father, and tell me more about the babies.

Has Beth any hair yet?"

"Only a little soft, yellow down; but Berta's is actually beginning to turn up at the ends in tiny, silky curls."

"Oh, she must look darling! Just forty-eight hours more--no, forty-seven, because it is exactly an hour since Uncle was here--and I can see them both again."

"So Uncle Frank said at dinner. That reminds me--here is a note for you from Mother."

"Please read it to me, Father. I can't read writing very well, though Mother tries to make hers plain. Besides, Uncle has asked me not to look closely at anything until my eyes are stronger. They have been so weak that I had to ask Sister to keep the shades down. But she thought it would be too bad to shut out the sunshine; so sometimes she bandaged my eyes and let the shades roll all the way up to the top.

"Then we played a game something like the little boy who was half-past three played with his grandmother, only ours was _Blind Man's Buff_. Of course, I couldn't go catch Sister, but I tried to guess where she was; and when I guessed right, she was 'it.' Then I would _pretend_ that I was somewhere, and Sister had to guess. She had a much harder time than I had, because I could pretend to be up the chimney or on top of the wardrobe or in ever so many places where I knew she couldn't be when _I_ was 'it.' But please read Mother's letter. She has written to me every day since I came up here," and the little girl snuggled close to her father while he read the following:

My Darling,

Uncle has just told us the good news. It will not do you any harm now to know how much we have missed you. Aunt Mandy said to me to-day that she cannot understand how you always succeeded in putting the babies to sleep when she failed to do so; but I think I know the secret.

The babies are growing more cunning every day. Two or three days ago, Beth discovered that she has fingers; and this morning when I was dressing her, she kicked up one little foot and caught hold of her toes. Then I found Berta holding on to both ears. But I must not tell you all the surprises we have for you.

I have gone into your room very often. It makes me think of a pretty nest from which the little bird has flown. But the wings of my little bluebird are not strong enough to carry her very far away, so she is coming back to the nest again. I shall give Father a kiss and a hug to carry to my birdie away up in the treetop.

MOTHER.

"And here are a kiss--and a hug--to carry down to Mother; but before you give them to her, you must walk around the block to let the wind blow the measles off of you."

"There, there, dear, you must not exert yourself so much. You are not quite strong enough to give such bear hugs."

"Well, well, well! Not in bed yet? I was almost sure that I heard you snore as I came upstairs."

"Uncle! I am going to ask Sister Julia if I snore when I am asleep."

"You certainly do not do so while you are awake. But perhaps it was s...o...b..ll that I heard. She is asleep on the lowest step."

"Poor little s...o...b..ll! I do hope Debby is taking good care of her. Is she very black, Uncle?"

"Who? Debby or the kitten?"

"Why, the kitten, of course. Debby is s'posed to be black, but s...o...b..ll is s'posed to be white."

"I see. Well, set your mind at rest, pet, for your kitten looks her name to perfection, curled up as she now is. Indeed, for a moment I was on the point of bringing her up here to wash your face and coax a little color into it. Oh, another thing! I noticed that she has quite a jaunty bow of ribbon on her neck. You would have the nightmare if I should tell you what color it is."

"Every color looks pretty on s...o...b..ll. I think the ribbon must be pink, because Debby likes pink herself. No?" as the Doctor shook his head.

"Red, then. Debby likes red, too."

"I suppose I may as well tell you. It is _yellow_! A glorious, golden yellow."

"How lovely! Yes, Uncle, I mean it. I think yellow is a beautiful color; but it wouldn't do for me to wear it, you know. Why, the sun and moon and stars and d.i.c.k and ever so many of my favorite flowers are yellow, so you can't tease me about that color."

"I am a naughty old chap to tease you about anything. Come, Rob, it is long past her bedtime. It will be a case of

'You can't get 'em up, You can't get 'em up, You can't get 'em up in the morning,'"

sang the jolly man.

On the way down stairs he said, "As far as the measles are concerned, she could be with the family now; but she is weaker than I like to see her, and the little excitement of being with the babies again would be more than is good for her at present. So I have put her off another two days. She will not try to exert herself as much with Sister Julia as she would down stairs. She is getting along better, however, than I expected, for she has had a pretty severe attack; but I have every reason now to hope that it will leave no bad effects."

"How about her eyes? is the sight in any danger?" was the father's anxious question.

"Not now. The disease often affects the eyes; but Sister Julia has been very careful, and the danger is pa.s.sed. We may all go to sleep to-night with light hearts."

Ah, how little the wisest of us know! How little we suspect what the next hour may bring!

The tick-tock----tick-tock----of the big clock at the foot of the stairs was the only sound that broke the stillness of the night. Midnight came and went.----One o'clock----two o'clock----a piercing scream rang through the silent house! The Doctor, whose room was nearest the stairs, was the first to reach the sick room. He found the little girl in the nurse's arms, imploring her to chase away the man with the terrible knife.

"He stuck it----into me----Uncle! 'Way, 'way into--my side! Oo! It's there yet!--Take it out, Uncle! _please_ take it out! Oh! oh! oh!"

"There, there, darling! No, no! there is no knife. It is only a bad dream," soothed the nurse.

"But it hurts, Sister!----Oo, oo! Ouch!----every time----I breathe. Take it _out_! Oh, Uncle----_please_ take it _out_!"