Mother Meg Part 25

"Then why do yer mind, mo'ver-Meg?"

"Because he's gone away from _me_, d.i.c.kie. But I shan't be sorry soon."

"And fa'ver-Jem said as He'd sent me _instead_," said d.i.c.kie comfortably, "and so that's nice for ev'wybody."

Meg smiled, though she almost cried again.

"Yes, d.i.c.kie," she answered, "and I'm not sorry for that part of it. I'm sure our Father in heaven knows best, and will make me glad in time that He has taken my little baby."

d.i.c.kie laid his soft cheek against her face, and then Meg saw her mother-in-law coming in with a little tray in her hand.

"Look, d.i.c.kie," she said; "here is a kind mother with some gruel or something for us. Why, here are two basins! How kind she is. Can you open your eyes now, d.i.c.kie?"

He tried, but quickly put up his hand to shield them from the light.

"How bad they are!" remarked Mrs. Seymour. "Meg, did Jem say what they did to him?"

"No," answered Meg, shuddering. "He said it was so dreadful, yet so easy that he should never tell it, lest any one else should be so cruel."

"How strange!" said Mrs. Seymour.

"Did the doctor say this morning that they should be tied up?" asked Meg.

"No; only bathed often. He said while he kept them shut of his own accord it was better not to hara.s.s him with a bandage. He looked very serious over it, Meg."

Meg did not answer. She was stroking the little face tenderly, and smoothing the soft brown curls.

"Poor little man," she whispered at length.

Mrs. Seymour fed the child with a spoon, and just as she had finished a knock came at the sitting-room door, which she went to answer.

Meg guessed what it was, but she lay quiet, her thoughts dwelling on what d.i.c.kie had suggested--that the Home above was better than this.

Mrs. Seymour did not return for some time, nor indeed till the steps of Jem and Cherry were heard coming back from the hospital. She went outside to meet them, telling Cherry to go up-stairs, and preparing Jem by a low word for what he would find in his room when he entered.

Though he knew it would be so, the little coffin having been promised at seven o'clock, yet it was a shock to him after all; and he was glad that his kind mother had let him go alone into the room, that he might have time to get over his feelings.

Mrs. Seymour, finding that Meg was quiet, and even cheerful, went up-stairs to look after Cherry, and to see if her invalid lodger should want anything. She found the poor child sitting near the fire, looking very mournful; and guessing at once that she had lost her father, she went up to her and kissed her kindly, saying--

"You must tell me all about it presently, dear child. Just now I want you to help me as nicely as you did this morning."

Cherry looked up, greatly relieved to be set to work at something.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"Let us get the bath ready for d.i.c.kie again, and then you go down and fetch him, Cherry. Wrap this about him. He is awake; but I shall bathe him up here, for I think Meg has had enough excitement."

Cherry quickly understood, and in a few minutes all was ready, and she was standing by Meg's side asking d.i.c.kie if he would not like another warm bath.

"I'd rather stay 'ere," said d.i.c.kie; "but you'll let me come back, Cherry?"

"Oh, yes; only Mrs. Seymour has got such a lovely fire for yer, d.i.c.kie; and I'm goin' to try to carry yer up."

Meg added her word that it would be very nice; so d.i.c.kie allowed himself to be lifted out of bed.

"I 'tom back soon," he nodded, as he was borne towards the door.

"Yes, dear."

Then as Cherry went out, Jem came in from the other room, and sat down by his wife's side.

"Let me carry him, dear," said Mrs. Blunt's voice outside. "He's too heavy for you, and I was just a-goin' up."

"Oh, thank you; but I often do carry him," said Cherry.

"My! ain't he light? Well, dear," to the child, "you're not afraid as I am old Sairy?"

For Mrs. Blunt had heard the whole story from Miss Hobson that morning.

"No," said d.i.c.kie; but the very name made him tremble, and Mrs. Blunt, perceiving it, knew she should not have said that.

When he was placed on Mrs. Seymour's lap, Mrs. Blunt produced something which she had carried on her arm.

"There!" she said, with evident delight; "don't you think as we've been quick? This little nightgown was calico in the shop at nine o'clock this mornin', and here it is ready for him to put on now."

"You've made it for him?" asked Mrs. Seymour, too astonished to find words.

"That we have! When you sent for me this mornin' to tell me about borrowin' mine--bless 'im, he was welcome to it!--and to ask me to 'elp you with your laundry work, as 'as been put so behind this week, I ran down to Jenny to see if she would mind my children. (She's a kind girl at a pinch.) And then thinks I, 'Mrs. Seymour won't be ready with her irons and things for a few minutes;' and I pops on my bonnet, and takes the little 'uns round to the shop to get the calico. We was back in no time, and there was Jenny smiling at the door waitin' for me.

"'Jenny,' says I to her, 'I know as you're good at your needle, and I want to surprise Mrs. Seymour. I haven't made a present to any one these many years, but if you'll help me, I will to-day!'

"Jenny, she takes it in as kind as anythink.

"'All right,' she says. 'And I'll mind those precious babies of yours, and do the work as well; for I'm right down sorry for 'em up-stairs, that I am.'

"So we cut it out, and she was set-to with her needle afore I come up to you. When I got down again at twelve o'clock, after you'd finished with me, she'd done more than half of it, that she had!"

Mrs. Blunt was out of breath, so Cherry unfolded the little nightgown and showed it to d.i.c.kie, who, however, only smiled gratefully, but did not venture more than a peep with his poor little inflamed eyes.

Mrs. Seymour was so pleased at the thoughtful kindness that she could not say much.

"Don't think as I grudged him the _other_!" said Mrs. Blunt; "but I thought as you'd feel it nicer for him to have one of his own."

"I'm sure Meg will take it very kind of you," said Mrs. Seymour, gratefully.

"Kind!" echoed Mrs. Blunt. "Nothin' as I could do for her would be kind, after all she has done for me. Why, my dear, I'm a new woman!"

Mrs. Seymour was too surprised to answer, and Mrs. Blunt went on earnestly: