The Children of the Top Floor Part 6

She had scarcely finished her preparations, and the kettle was just beginning to boil, when the familiar ring was heard, and she flew to open the door.

Jack was quite correct in his predictions; Mrs. Randall was both wet and tired. Indeed, she came in looking so much more tired than usual that Betty noticed it, and inquired anxiously as she hung up the dripping umbrella, and helped her mother off with her waterproof, "Have you got a headache, mother, dear?"

"Yes, dear, I have a bad headache. My cold is rather bad, too; I have been coughing a great deal to-day. Is Jack all right?"

"Oh, yes; he ate a good lunch, and was reading all the morning, and drawing pictures all the afternoon."

"How chilly it feels here," Mrs. Randall said, shivering and coughing as she spoke.

"I've lighted the stove, and your slippers are nice and warm," said Betty proudly. "The kettle's boiling too, and I'll have a nice cup of tea for you in five minutes."

Mrs. Randall's tired face brightened, and she looked rather relieved.

"That is good," she said. "Hurry as quickly as you can with the tea, dear, for I believe I am really chilled through."

Betty, nothing loath, flew about like a small whirlwind; had her mother's wet shoes off and the warm slippers in their place; drew the comfortable armchair as near as possible to the steam radiator, and darted away to the kitchen, from whence she returned in a twinkling, with a cup of steaming tea.

Mrs. Randall drank the tea, but though she p.r.o.nounced it delicious, and declared herself ever so much better, she still shivered, and cowered over the radiator for warmth. Jack watched her anxiously, with a troubled look on his pale little face.

In a little while Mrs. Randall rose.

"I think I will go and lie down," she said, and the children noticed that her voice was very hoa.r.s.e. "My head is bad, and if I could sleep for half an hour I might be all right. Be sure and call me in time to get dinner, Betty."

"I hope mother isn't going to be ill," said Jack anxiously, when they were once more alone together.

"Oh, I guess not," said cheerful Betty; "she's only got a cold and a headache. She'll be better after she's rested. Let's play a game of lotto."

Jack a.s.sented, but though they played several games, and Betty did her best to be entertaining, the troubled expression did not leave his face.

Suddenly he stopped short in the middle of a game.

"Hear mother coughing, Betty; she can't be asleep. I wish you'd go and see if she wants anything."

Betty rose promptly, and hurried into the little bedroom. Her mother was lying on her bed, with flushed cheeks and wide-open eyes. At sight of her little girl she smiled faintly.

"I'm getting nice and warm now, dear," she said; "that tea did me so much good. I'm going to get up very soon."

"You look ever so much better," said Betty in a tone of decided relief.

"You've got a lovely color in your cheeks."

Mrs. Randall pressed her hand to her forehead, but said nothing, and next moment a violent spasm of coughing shook her from head to foot.

The evening that followed was a decidedly uncomfortable one. Mrs.

Randall's cough was very painful, and although she went about as usual, and tried to appear like herself, it was easy to see that every movement cost her an effort. Betty noticed that she scarcely tasted any dinner, and Jack's eyes never left her face. Almost as soon as dinner was over Jack said he was tired, and would like to go to bed. The others soon followed, and by nine o'clock the lights were out, and the little family settled for the night.

But there was little sleep for at least two members of the household.

Mrs. Randall coughed incessantly, and tossed from side to side in feverish restlessness. Betty lay with wide-open eyes, and a heavier heart than she had ever known before. It was all very well to a.s.sure Jack that there was not much the matter with mother, and that she would surely be all right in the morning. She knew nothing about illness, but she could not help thinking that that dreadful cough and those burning hands meant something more than an every-day cold.

"I am afraid I am disturbing you very much, dear," Mrs. Randall said at last, when the clock struck ten, and a restless movement on Betty's part a.s.sured her that the child was still wide awake. "I wish I could be quieter, but this cough----"

"Never mind, mother, I'm not one bit sleepy. I'm really not. Wouldn't you like to have me get you some water or something?"

"No, thank you, darling; I'm afraid it wouldn't do any good, but if you are not asleep I should like to talk to you a little."

Betty took one of the hot hands in both her little cool ones, and patted it gently. After another fit of coughing, her mother went on.

"You are only a little girl, Betty, but you are very sensible, and in many ways seem older than you really are. There are some things that I think you ought to know about, in case anything should ever happen to me."

"But nothing is going to happen, is it, mother?" Betty asked in a rather frightened whisper. They both spoke in whispers, so as not to disturb Jack in the next room.

"No, no, dear, of course not; I only said 'in case.' I am sure I shall be all right in the morning, but if at any time I should be ill, Betty--if anything serious were to happen to me--you and Jack would be all alone."

Betty nestled closer to her mother's side, and softly kissed the hot fingers.

"I sometimes fear, dear, that I have done wrong in not making more friends," Mrs. Randall said, after another fit of coughing. "People would have been kind I dare say, but I have always been so proud and reserved. Some of the families where I teach would have been friendly if I had let them. I almost wish now that I had."

"Mrs. Hamilton is very kind," said Betty eagerly; "and she came to see you."

"Yes, dear, and I liked her too, but I have always so dreaded being patronized. You know, dear, that I haven't always been poor."

"Yes, mother, I know; you were not poor in England."

"I have often told you about my English home, and about your Uncle Jack, and how happy we were together when we were children. I have been thinking a great deal of those times this evening, and all last night I dreamed of Jack."

"He was your twin brother, wasn't he, mother?"

"Yes; and we were everything to each other. Our mother died when we were babies, and our two sisters were much older, almost grown up in fact, while we were still little children. I suppose my father loved us in his way, but he was very stern, and we were all rather afraid of him. Our older sisters were very good to us little ones, but they had their own affairs to think of, and so Jack and I were left a good deal to ourselves. Such merry times as we had--such pranks as we played."

"You mean the time when Uncle Jack rode the wild colt, and the day you climbed the plum tree, and fell and broke your arm," said Betty, glad to have her mother's thoughts turn in this direction, and hopeful of new stories.

"Yes, those and many others, but, Betty dear, I want to talk to you about something else to-night. You have never heard very much about your father, have you, darling?"

"No, mother," said Betty softly; "I know you don't like to talk about him."

"I ought to like it, but I loved him so dearly that for a long time after his death I could not bring myself to mention his name to any one, even my own children."

"Did Uncle Jack love him too?" Betty asked rather timidly; "you said you always liked the same things."

"They never met. Jack was at college when your father first came into our neighborhood. He came to visit at the vicarage; Mr. Marvyn, our vicar, had known his father. By that time both my sisters were married, and as I was often lonely at home when Jack was away, I got into the habit of spending a good many days with the Marvyn girls, who were about my own age. Your father was only a poor artist, but he was very clever, and people said he would make his mark in the world some day.

Jack was very fond of sketching himself, and I think that was one reason why I first began to be interested in your father. We used to go off on sketching expeditions together that spring, and we grew to know each other very well. Jack was invited to spend his summer vacation in Switzerland with a party of friends, and he decided to go. It was the first vacation he had not spent with me, and I think I was more hurt and jealous than I had any right to be under the circ.u.mstances. I wrote him how I felt, and he, as was only natural, thought me silly, and told me so. That made me angry, and we quarreled for the first time in our lives. It was only a foolish little quarrel, but it kept me from telling him, as I should otherwise have done, how much I was going about with Archie Randall.

"At first my father did not seem to notice how things were going, but I think some one must have warned him, for one day when I came back from a long walk with your father, he called me into his study, and told me he did not wish me to have anything more to do with young Randall, who was only a penniless artist, and not a proper companion for one of his daughters.

"I am not going to tell you about that time, Betty. I was very angry, and I am afraid I did not behave very well towards my father, who was an old man, and who I think really loved me. When he found that I would not obey him, he sent for Archie, and forbade him to see me again. Then all at once your father and I found out how much we cared for each other. He was very honorable. He wanted me to wait for him while he went away and made a name for himself, but I was young and headstrong, and I loved him better than anything else in the world. The end of it was that we ran away, and were married in London by special license."

Betty gasped. This was the most interesting, romantic story she had ever heard.

"And didn't your father ever forgive you?" she questioned breathlessly.