The Children's Portion Part 23

"Oh, yes, I do," said Mr. Lawrence, with a nod of his head; "but you are getting to be a big boy now, Stevie, and if you expect to be a soldier one of these days--as you say you do--you must begin to control yourself now, or you'll never be able to control your men by and by.

And besides, you are bringing discredit on your beloved country by such behavior."

Stevie looked up with wide-open, astonished eyes. "Why, papa!" he said.

"I heard you tell Guiseppi the other day," went on his papa, "that all Americans were nice. Do you expect him to believe that, when you, the only little American boy he knows, speak so rudely to him, and he hears you ordering your sisters about as you do?"

Stevie hung his head without a word, but his cheeks got very red.

"You know, Stevie," said Mr. Lawrence, "great honors always bring great responsibilities with them. You are a Christian and an American--two great honors; and you mustn't shirk the responsibility to be courteous and n.o.ble and kind, which they entail. Even our dear Lord Christ pleased not Himself, you know; don't you suppose it grieves Him to see His little follower flying into rages because he can't have his own way? And can you possibly imagine Washington or Lincoln ordering people about as you like to do?"

There was a moment's silence; then Stevie straightened himself up and poked his hands deep down in his pockets. "Papa," he said, tossing back his yellow curls, a look of determination on his little fair face, "I'll not shirk my 'sponsibilities. I'm just going to try with all my might to be a better boy."

"Good for you, Stevie!" cried papa, kissing him warmly. "I know mamma'll be glad, and I'm sure you'll be a much pleasanter boy to live with. But you must ask G.o.d to help you, or you'll never succeed, son; and besides, you've got to keep a tight watch on yourself all the time, you know."

"Yes, I s'pose so," agreed Stevie, with a little sigh, "'cause feelings are such hard things to manage; and, papa, please don't tell Kate and Eva, or Hitty." Papa nodded, and then they went to tell mamma the result of the talk.

Stevie did "try with all his might" for the next few days, and with such good results as to astonish all but his papa and mamma, who, as you know, were in the secret. Eva confided to Kate that she thought Stevie was certainly like "the little girl with the curl," for if when he was "bad he was horrid," "when he was good he was very, very good;"

and Mehitabel watched him closely, and hoped "he wasn't sickening for measles or Italian fever."

How long this unusual state of affairs would have lasted under usual circ.u.mstances is uncertain; but about a week after Stevie's talk with his papa, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence were called suddenly to Naples on urgent business, and the children were left in Venice in the housekeeper's care. Mamma impressed upon her little son and daughters that they must be very good children and obey Mehitabel just as they would her; and when they were going, papa said to Stevie: "Son, I want you to look after the girls and Mehitabel, and take care of them while I am away. If anything happens, try to act as you think I would if I were here."

"All right, I'll take good care of 'em," Stevie answered, feeling very proud to have papa say this before everybody, and winked hard to prevent the tears, that would come, from falling. Then, as the gondola glided from the door, papa leaned over the side and waved his hand.

"Don't forget the responsibilities, Steve," he called out.

"I won't forget--sure," returned Stevie, waving back; but when Kate asked what papa meant, he answered: "It's just something between papa and me--nothing 'bout you," with such a mysterious air that of course Kate immediately suspected a secret and entreated to be told. This Stevie flatly refused to do, and they were on the verge of a quarrel when Mehitabel's voice was heard calling them to come help her choose a dessert for their five-o'clock dinner.

Stevie found the next few days what he called "very trying." You see, by virtue of what his papa had said he considered himself the head of the family, and his feelings were continually ruffled by Mehitabel's decided way of settling things without regard to his opinion. The mornings were the hardest of all, when, in their mother's absence, the children recited their lessons to Miss Higginson. Mehitabel had her own ideas about the law and order that should be maintained, and Stevie's indignant protests were quite wasted on her.

"You may do as you please when your pa and ma are home"--she said very decidedly one morning, when Kate and Stevie told her that their mamma never expected them to stand through all the lessons nor to repeat every word as it was in the book--"but when I'm head of the family you've got to do things my way, and I want every word of that lesson."

"You're just as cross as you can be," fumed Kate, flouncing herself into a chair.

"And anyway you're not the head of the family one bit," commenced Stevie, warmly tossing back his curls and getting very red in the face.

"Papa said I--"

"Oh, here's a gondola stopped at our door," broke in Eva, who, taking advantage of Miss Higginson's attention being occupied elsewhere, was looking out of the window. "There's a boy in it lying down--a big boy.

Oh, a man's just got out and--yes, they're bringing the boy in here!

"Sakes alive!" cried Mehitabel, dropping Stevie's book on the floor and starting for the door. "Can it possibly be Mr. Joseph and Dave?"

"Uncle Joe and Dave!" "Hurrah!" exclaimed Kate and Stevie in the same breath; and Eva having scrambled down from the window, the three children collected at the head of the stairs to watch, with breathless interest, the procession which came slowly up.

The tall man on the right was their Uncle Joe Lawrence--Kate and Eva and Stevie remembered him at once, for he had visited their parents several times since they had been in Europe; and the bright-eyed, pale-faced boy who lay huddled up in the chair which he and Guiseppi carried between them must be their Cousin Dave, of whom they had heard so much. Poor Dave! he had fallen from a tree last summer, and struck his back, and the concussion had caused paralysis of the lower part of the spine, so that he could not walk a step, and might not for years, though the doctors gave hope that he would eventually recover the use of his legs. The children gazed at him with the deepest interest and sympathy, and they were perfectly astonished when, as the chair pa.s.sed them, Dave turned his head, and, in answer to their smiling greetings, deliberately made a frightful face at them!

"Isn't he the rudest!" gasped Eva, as the procession--Miss Higginson bringing up the rear--disappeared behind the doors of the guest room; while Kate and Stevie were, for once in their lives, too amazed to be able to express their feelings.

After what seemed a long time to the children, Mehitabel rejoined them.

"I am in a pucker," she said, sinking into a chair. Her curls were disarranged, and her spectacles were pushed up on her forehead; she looked worried. "And there isn't a creature to turn to for advice; that Italian in the kitchen doesn't speak a blessed word of English, and Guiseppi's not much better. He keeps saying, 'Si signorina,' and wagging his head like a Chinese mandarin, until he fairly makes me dizzy, and I know all the time he doesn't understand half I'm saying."

Miss Higginson paused to take breath, then, feeling the positive necessity of unburdening herself further, continued her tale of woe: "Here's your Uncle Joseph obliged to go right on to Paris within the hour, and here's Dave to remain here till his pa returns, which mayn't be for weeks. And he requires constant care, mansage (she meant ma.s.sage) treatment and everything--and just as domineering and imperdent; Stevie's bad enough, but Dave goes ahead of him. And, to make matters worse, here comes a letter from your pa saying he and your ma have met with old friends at Naples, and not to expect 'em home until we see them. Anyway, I'd made up my mind not to shorten their holiday, 'less it was a matter of life and death.

"Now, what I want to know is this: who is going to wait on that sick boy from morning to night? And that's what he'll have to have for he can't stir off his couch, can't even sit up, and wanting something every five minutes. I'm sure I can't keep the house, and see to the servants, and take care of you children, and besides wait on that exacting young one. 'Tain't in human nature to do it--anyway, 'tain't in me. And Dave's temper's at the bottom of the whole thing; he won't have Guiseppi or any other Italian I could get, and he's just worn out the patience of his French vally till he got disgusted and wouldn't put up with it any longer for love nor money. His father's got to go, and who is to take care of that boy?"

Mehitabel's voice actually quivered. The children had never seen her so moved; the differences of the morning were all forgotten, and they crowded about her, their little faces full of loving sympathy. "I wish I could help you, Hitty," said Kate, patting the old housekeeper's hand. "Is mansage treatment a kind of medicine 'cause if it is I might give it to Dave--you know I drop mamma's medicine for her sometimes."

"No, child, mansage is a certain way of rubbing the body, and it needs more strength and skill than you've got. But that I can manage, I think; Guiseppi knows a man that we can get to come and mansage Dave every morning. And I could sleep in the room next to him, and look after him during the night; but it's some one to be with him in the day that I want most."

Stevie had listened to Mehitabel's story with a very thoughtful expression on his face; now he said suddenly, and very persuasively: "I could take care of Dave through the day, Hitty--I wish you'd let me."

"You!" cried Miss Higginson, in surprise. "Why, you wouldn't be in that room five minutes before you two would be squabbling."

"No, we wouldn't; I'm sure we wouldn't," persisted the little boy.

"Just you try me."

"But, Stevie, you'd get very tired being shut up in the room with that ill-tempered boy, all day long--I know him of old--he'd try the patience of a saint. You'd have no gondola rides, no fun with your sisters, no play time at all, and no thanks for your pains either. And I'm not sure your pa'd like to have you do it."

"I don't mind one bit about the fun and all that," said Stevie, decidedly; "and indeed, Hitty, I don't think papa'd object. You see, he told me the last thing, if anything happened while he was away I was to act just as he would do if he were here; now, you know, if he were here he'd just take care of Dave, himself--wouldn't he? Well, then, as he isn't here, I ought to do it--see? And really I'd like to."

"Why not let him try it anyhow, Hitty?" pleaded the little girls. And as she really saw no other way out of the difficulty, Mehitabel reluctantly consented, with the proviso that she should sit with Dave for an hour every afternoon while Stevie went for a gondola sail.

Finally matters were arranged, and after a very short visit Mr. Joseph Lawrence started for Paris, leaving Dave in Venice, and the children went in to make their cousin's acquaintance.

What Mehitabel said was certainly true--Dave was a very trying boy.

Though possessing naturally some good qualities, he had been so humored and indulged that his own will had become his law; he loved to tease, and hated to be thwarted in the slightest degree, and this made him often very exacting and tyrannical. Miss Higginson called him a "most exasperating boy," and she wasn't far wrong. He teased Kate and Eva so much that they hated to go into his room, or even in the gondola when he took, now and then, an airing. But, to everybody's surprise, he and Stevie got on better than was expected. Part of the secret of this lay in the fact that Dave had lived in America all his life--had just come from there, and was able to give Stevie long and glowing accounts of that country and everything in it--as seen from the other boy's standpoint. Stevie's rapt attention and implicit faith in him flattered Dave, and beside, though he wouldn't have acknowledged it for the world, he found the little fellow's willing ministrations very much pleasanter than those of the French valet, whose patience he had soon exhausted. And Stevie felt so sorry for the boy who had dearly loved to run and leap and climb, and who now lay so helpless that he could not even sit up for five minutes. Dave's heart was very sore over it sometimes--once or twice he had let Stevie see it; and then he had no dear loving mother as Stevie had, and his papa had never talked to him as Stevie's papa did to his little boy. So Stevie tried with all the strength of his brave, tender little heart to be patient with his cousin.

But, as Mehitabel would say, "human nature is human nature;" they both had quick tempers and strong wills; and for all Stevie's good intentions, many a lively quarrel took place in the guest room, of which they both fancied the old housekeeper knew nothing. She had threatened that if Dave "abused" Stevie she would separate the boys at once, even if she had to mount guard over the invalid herself; so with Spartan-like fort.i.tude both kept their grievances to themselves--Dave because he disliked and was a little afraid of Miss Higginson, whom he had nicknamed the "dragon," and Stevie because he had really grown very fond of Dave, and knew how utterly dependent he was on him. But one day Stevie completely lost his temper and got so angry that he declared to himself he'd "just give up the whole thing."

Stevie had felt a little cross himself that morning, and Dave had been unbearable; the consequence was the most serious quarrel they had ever had. In a fit of violent rage Dave threw everything he could lay hands on at Stevie--books, cushions, and last a pretty paper-weight. The books and cushions Stevie dodged, but the paper-weight hit him on the shin, a sharp enough blow to bring tears to his eyes and the angry blood to his cheeks. Catching up a cushion that lay near, he sent it whizzing at Dave, and had the satisfaction of seeing it hit his cousin full in the face; then, before Dave could retaliate, he slipped into the hall and slammed the door of the guest room.

Out in the hall he almost danced with rage. "I'll tell Hitty," he stormed; "I won't wait on him and do things for him any longer. He's the worst-tempered boy in the whole world. I just won't have another thing to do with him! I'll go and tell her so."

Before he got half way to Mehitabel, however, he changed his mind, and stealing softly back, sat on the top step of the stairs, just outside Dave's room, to wait till Dave should call him, to make up, as had happened more than once before. Stevie determined he wouldn't go in of his own accord--he said Dave had been "too contemptibly mean." So he sat there with a very obstinate look on his little face, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms, staring at the patch of blue sky which was visible through the hall window nearest him.

But somehow, after a while Stevie's anger began to cool, and he began to feel sorry for Dave, and to wonder if the cushion had hurt him--a corner of it might have struck his eye! The paper-weight had hurt quite a good deal; but then he could get out of the way of such things, while Dave couldn't dodge, he had to lie there and take what Stevie threw. Poor Dave! and he might lie in that helpless way for years yet--the doctors had said perhaps by the time he was twenty-one he might be able to walk. What a long time to have to wait! Poor Dave!

Stevie wondered if he would behave better than Dave if he were twelve years old and as helpless as his cousin. Mehitabel said they were both fond of their own way and loved to order people about; he guessed all boys loved their own way, whether they were nine or twelve years old.

And then suddenly there came to Stevie the remembrance of a picture that hung in his mamma's room. It was a print of a famous painting, and it represented a Boy of twelve, with a bright, eager, beautiful face, standing among grave, dark-browed, white-robed men. Mamma and Stevie had often talked about the Boy there pictured, and Stevie knew that He had not loved His own way, for He "pleased not Himself." He wouldn't have quarreled with Dave! He had been a real Boy, too; He knew just what other boys had to go through, all their trials and temptations, and mamma had said over and over that she knew He just loved to help those other boys to be good and unselfish and patient.

Then He must know all about poor Dave's having to lie helpless all the time. A wistful look came into Stevie's eyes. Oh, if Jesus were only on earth now, he thought, how quickly they would all take Dave to Him to be healed! Or perhaps He would come to the sick boy, as He did to some of those others in the Bible. Stevie pictured to himself the tall, gracious figure, clad in long, trailing robes, the holy face, the tender eyes. He would lay His hand on Dave and say: "Son"--Stevie thought that was such a beautiful word--"Son, rise up and walk." And immediately Dave would spring to his feet, well and strong. And then after that, of course, they--for he, too, would be present--would be so good and kind and patient that they wouldn't think of quarreling and throwing things at each other.

Well, that was out of the question--Stevie sighed heavily--Jesus was in heaven now, and He didn't do those miracles any more; but--since He had been a Boy Himself He must know just how hard it was for some boys--like Dave and himself, for instance--to be good; perhaps He would help them if they asked Him. Stevie had his doubts whether Dave would ask; he made fun of Stevie whenever he said anything of that kind--which wasn't often; but he (Stevie) could ask for both, and particularly that Jesus would put it into Dave's heart to make up this quarrel--he did so hate to be the first to give in.

Then, all at once, the eyes that were staring so steadily up at the blue sky grew very tender, and Stevie's lips moved.

What he said I do not know; but after that he sprang up and ran quickly into Dave's room, up to his couch. "Say, Dave," he remarked, in the most off-hand way, "I'll fix up your pillows, then you tell me all about that base-ball team you used to belong to; you said you would--you know, the one that knocked spots out of those other fellers."

Dave lay with his head turned to the wall, his eyes closed; but as Stevie spoke he opened them and looked up, a bright smile flashing over his pale face. "All right, sir, I'm your man," he answered, readily.

"Pick up the things round the room first, so the 'dragon' won't know we've had a fight, and then I'll begin. And--I say, Stevie--I--I'm going to turn over a new leaf--sure, and the next time I act as I did this morning just hit me on the head, will you? I'll deserve it."

Which from Dave was a full, ample, and most honorable apology, and as such Stevie took it.