Six Girls Part 36

"We have too much to be thankful for to make complaints of any kind,"

said Mrs. Dering, looking out of the window, as the gate was heard to slam. "There comes a boy! You may go to the door, Kat, as you don't appear to be doing anything."

Kat lifted herself from the floor with a yawn, and strolled lazily out to the door, but came back in a moment, with quicker steps, and less color in her face.

"It's a despatch," she said, holding out the envelope that always bears alarm in its very face; and Mrs. Dering took it quickly, while the girls hung round her chair in anxiety. Was Olive or Jean sick? Neither. The paper unfolded, briefly read:

"I will be home on Wednesday with Ernestine. She is quite ill. Meet the train with an easy carriage and pillows, and with Dr. B.

"OLIVE."

For a moment not a sound broke the stillness, then Mrs. Dering dropped the paper, and hid her face in her hands, and the girls knew that her first thought was to return thanks for this answer to her long, yearning prayers. A moment after, it was as though a whirlwind had struck the peaceful room; no one seemed to know, in the excitement that possessed them, just what it was they wanted to say or do, and between the joy and anxiety that the news occasioned, they all laughed and cried alternately.

"To-morrow is Wednesday, and Ernestine will be here. Oh, don't it seem too happy to be true," cried Kittie, wiping away her tears with a strand of ruffling. "How do you suppose it ever happened? I can hardly wait; what shall we do to make time pa.s.s?"

There proved to be plenty to keep their hands in keeping with their thoughts, for a room must be prepared for the invalid, and thoroughly prepared, too. They went to work on it that afternoon, first building a bright fire in the great fire-place, and throwing open all the windows to let the sunshine pour in. How strange it seemed; how happy, and yet how sad! Ernestine coming home! Not dead nor lost, but coming home, feeble and helpless! Where had she been all these long, weary months?

and had any of their heart-aches and longings reached her? Perhaps she had been sick and alone, had not known of their eager search, or been able to drag herself back to them.

The girls laughed and cried, while they swept, and dusted, and made up the bed like a snow-bank, ready turned down to admit the weary form. The whitest, most beautifully fluted curtains were hung before the windows, whose panes glistened like diamonds from hot soap-suds and crisp rubbings. All the pretty knick-knacks were brought in and put upon the walls with an eye to Ernestine's graceful little fancy likings. The easiest chairs, and prettiest rugs--in short, when finished, it was a little bower, and Kittie put the finishing touches in the way of flowers and vines, that, together, with the sunshine, made a sick-room of perfection to greet the coming invalid. Mrs. Dering went down to Mr.

Phillips's to get Prince and the buggy, and found that the news had preceded her. The telegram had been repeated, and in an hour's time had pretty near made the circle of Canfield; so her appearance was greeted with joyful congratulations and sympathetic rejoicing; for Canfield had taken the matter to heart, and having grieved with the family, were now prepared to rejoice with it also. Miss Clara Raymond met Mrs Dering on her way to Mr. Phillips's, and offered their carriage, which was gratefully accepted, as it was large, low, and easy, and much more comfortable than the buggy for an invalid.

Little sleeping was done that night, and in the morning the girls cooked every dainty that Ernestine had ever loved. They cleaned the whole house till it shone, under the stress of excitement; and, as train time drew near, they fairly grew weak and sick with anxiety and suspense. Mrs.

Dering did not say much, but when the carriage came, and she put on her hat, while the girls got the pillows, they saw that she was pale and trembling, and that her voice shook beyond control when she gave Dr.

Barnett a smiling "good-morning."

There was nothing left to do, so after the carriage drove away the three girls sat on the steps, with their hands clasped, and waited. Kittie made one or two flying trips up stairs to see if everything was really beyond further improvement, while Kat vibrated nervously between the porch and the gate, and Bea sat still, looking at her ring, and wondering if Ernestine would like the giver, and what she would say.

"There!" cried Kat at last, with a nervous jump. "The train is in, now in just a little bit--"

It is possible that there was not a heart in Canfield but gave an expectant throb when the rumble and roar of the train shook the little place to its centre, and was heard to stop, a thing it did not often do; and there were but few who did not imagine, and earnestly sympathize with the joy it was bringing to one home in their midst.

"There they come! Oh, girls I feel perfectly faint," cried Kittie, making a grasp at the gate post, to sustain her trembling excited self.

"How slow and careful,--she must be so sick."

No one answered, but six eager eyes watched, and three throbbing hearts waited, as the horses came with slow steps, and the carriage rolled carefully along. The top had been raised, and curious gazers along the way could see nothing; neither could the girls, when at last the gate was reached, but though they went out, something restrained their eager joyous welcome, and they said nothing.

Olive got out first, then Mrs. Dering, and Dr. Barnett, and then came a strange gentleman, bearing a perfectly helpless and evidently unconscious figure, with its face covered; and the girls shrank back to let them pa.s.s, then surrounded Olive with eager, trembling questions.

"She has fainted," Olive said. "She kept growing more excited after we left New York, and I thought she would faint when we came in sight of Canfield, but she didn't until the train stopped; and then the moment she saw mama, she tried to speak, and fainted right away."

There was no time to ask, or answer further questions, as they hurried into the house and up stairs, where Ernestine had been carried, and laid upon the soft, snowy bed; but after one glance at her unconscious face, they drew back and burst into tears. Olive was talking to the strange gentleman, for whose name no one had thought to inquire, and Dr. Barnett and Mrs. Dering hung over the bed, winning life back to the fragile figure thereon. They all saw the first opening of her eyes, that went straight to one dear face, saw the feeble arms lifted with a strength, born of joy, and heard the sobbing cry:

"Mama, mama! darling mama!" and everybody cried.

After awhile the girls went in and kissed her quietly, then the room was ordered to be cleared, and under the influence of an opiate, Ernestine sank to sleep, with her hands clasping those of the dear woman who was, and would be always, "mama."

When they went down stairs, Olive presented them to Cousin Roger, and told in few words of all his kindness; and Kat, the vivacious, who hated and longed to see him removed from the face of the earth, was seen to drop two big tears on his hand that she was shaking heartily. To Beatrice came the same vague, uncertain feeling that Olive had experienced when first seeing him, and he caught the same bewildered look in her eyes.

Had she ever seen him before? If not, what was it in his face that reminded her of--something?

Mrs. Dering did not leave Ernestine's side again that day. Olive came up with her, and they held a long conversation in low voices; and a look of perfect content was seen to drift into the mother's pale, anxious face, as she listened how Jean was growing well, and then looked down at the quiet sleeper--the one who had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from the burning, and given back into her arms.

"Just think, if I had not gone to Virginia?" Olive said that evening, while they were all in the kitchen, doing up the supper work. "It really makes me tremble to think how I did not want to go, and hesitated about it."

"If I had been you, I should have screamed right out when she came on the stage," said Kat, unable to imagine herself in such a position and remaining quiet. "How did you feel, Olive?"

"So weak that I could not move, I never came so near losing my senses in my life, and it is such a dreadful feeling that you can't scream. It was dreadful to sit there and watch her, and when the hemorrhage came, I just jumped and ran."

"Dear me, how you must have felt," said Kittie with a shiver, as she polished a tumbler brightly, and put it back in the water to every one's amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I don't know what I would have done without Cousin Roger," said Olive.

"He was so kind and thoughtful."

"Who does he make me think of?" asked Bea, which caused Olive to look up in surprise.

"How strange; he reminds me of some one, too, and it worried me so for a while, but I thought it was nonsense, and never spoke about it," she said.

"Well, I s'pose it is a notion," answered Bea, and then talk went back to Ernestine and Jean, of whom, it seemed, enough could never be told.

The next day, a little discovery was made to the girls.

Mr. Congreve was seen walking about in the fresh autumn sunshine, before breakfast, and the girls saw him gathering a small cl.u.s.ter of flowers, selecting from the dewy bunches with much care; and after a while Olive, who had slept late with fatigue, came down in her grey wrapper with its blue facings, and part of the flowers were in her wavy hair, and part at her throat, with a little knot of ribbon.

"Good gracious!" cried Kat, rushing into the kitchen with a tragic expression, and setting a pile of dishes on the table with some force.

"Do you see that? What's this family coming to?"

"Dust," responded Kittie calmly. "What's the matter, Kat?"

"Do you mean to tell me you didn't see Olive wearing the flowers he gathered before breakfast, and that you didn't see how he looked at her at the table?" cried Kat impatiently.

"That's the way they all do; it's the first symptoms I guess, for it's the way that Bea and Dr. Barnett began."

"Oh, the idea," laughed Kittie, "of Olive being in love."

"I don't care, perhaps she isn't, but he is," a.s.serted Kat, with an appeal to Bea, who had just come in.

"I don't know," said Bea. "I saw him give her the flowers, and fasten those in her hair, but I don't think it's anything."

"Well, you watch--there they go now!" exclaimed Kat, whereupon they all rushed to the window, to see Olive and Roger strolling out among the flowers.

"Would you ever think that was Olive?" said Kittie, as they looked.

"Think how quiet and snappy she used to be, and how ugly she always looked, and just see how pretty she is now, and how she laughs and talks. But she's not in love, dear no; she looks as cool and dignified as a cuc.u.mber, not a bit blushy, or anything of the kind."

"Well, I should hope not," said Kat severely. "One engaged sister is enough; two would ruin the family."

"If such a thing was to happen," remarked Bea, with a little mercenary expectation, "Congreve Hall would be Olive's; just think of it, girls, how grand! and Cousin Roger is immensely wealthy, and there would be no end of splendid things;" and Bea sighed a little, as she spoke, for she was not going to win any wealth or grand home by her wedding, and there came, just now, a little moment of regret, that such would never be hers. Then she looked at her ring, and felt wicked and ungrateful. Would she exchange with Olive, or any other girl who might win wealth? No, no, never!

"Well, dear suz, what a funny place the world is," said Kat. "Here I've just hated that Roger Congreve, and now I could bless him forever, for being so good and kind, and after all, perhaps he'll be my brother, and Congreve Hall come back to us. I don't like it though," she added, with energy, "we're all getting broken up some way; it don't seem like old times, and I don't want any of us to get married! It's horrid, and I never will. Now Ernestine is home, I'd rather be poor all the days of my life, and have us all stay together, and never get old, or big."

"Very good, but 'buds will be roses, and kittens, cats,' as Jo says,"