Milly and Olly, Mrs. Humphry Ward [ebook e reader .TXT] 📗

found a sad little group sitting in the hay-field; Milly in nurse's lap crying quietly every now and then; Tiza still sobbing on the grass, and Olly who had just crept down from the farmhouse, where he and Charlie had seen Becky carried in, talking to nurse in eager whispers, as if he daren't talk out loud.

"Oh, Aunt Emma," cried Milly, when she opened the gate, "is she better?"

"A little, I think, Milly, but the doctor will soon be here, and then we shall know all about it. Tiza, you poor little woman, Mrs. Wheeler says you must sleep with them to-night. Your mother will want the house very quiet, and to-morrow, you know, you can go and see Becky if the doctor says you may."

At this Tiza began to cry again more piteously than ever. It seemed so dreary and terrible to her to be shut out from home without Becky. But Aunt Emma sat down on the grass beside her, and lifted her up and talked to her; with anybody else Tiza would have kicked and struggled, for she was a curious, passionate child, and her grief was always wild and angry, but nobody could struggle with Aunt Emma, and at last she let herself be comforted a little by the tender voice and soft caressing hand. She stopped crying, and then they all took her up to the Wheelers's cottage, where Mrs. Wheeler, a kind motherly body, took her in, and promised that she should know everything there was to be known about Becky.

"Aunt Emma," said Milly, presently, when they were all sitting in the conservatory which ran round the house, waiting for Mr. Norton to bring them news from the farm, "how did Becky tumble under the cart?"

"She was lifting up some hay, I think, which had fallen off, and one of the men was stooping down to take it on his fork, and then she must have slipped and fallen right under the cart, just as John Backhouse told the horse to go on."

"Oh, if the wheel _had_ gone over!" said Milly, shuddering. "Isn't it a sad birthday, Aunt Emma, and we were so happy a little while ago? And then I can't understand. I don't know why it happens like this."

"Like what, Milly?"

"Why, Aunt Emma, always in stories, you know, it's the bad people get hurt and die. And now it's poor little Becky that's hurt. And she's such a dear little girl, and helps her mother so. I don't think she ought to have been hurt."

"We don't know anything about 'oughts,' Milly, darling, you and I. God knows, we trust, and that helps many people who love God to be patient when they are in trouble or pain. But think if it had been poor mischievous little Tiza who had been hurt, how she would have fretted. And now very likely Becky will bear it beautifully, and so, without knowing it, she will be teaching Tiza to be patient, and it will do Tiza good to have to help Becky and take care of her for a bit, instead of letting Becky always look after her and get her out of scrapes."

"Oh, and Aunt Emma, can't we all take care of Becky? What can Olly and I do?" said Milly, imploringly.

"I can go and sing all my songs to Becky," said Olly, looking up brightly.

"By-and-by, perhaps," said Aunt Emma, smiling and patting his head. "But hark! isn't that father's step?"

It had grown so dark that they could hardly see who it was opening the gate.

"Oh yes, it is," cried Milly. "It's father and mother." Away they ran to meet them, and Mrs. Norton took Milly's little pale face in both her hands and kissed it.

"She's not _very_ badly hurt, darling. The doctor says she must lie quite quiet for two or three weeks, and then he hopes she'll be all right. The wheel gave her a squeeze, which jarred her poor little back and head very much, but it didn't break anything, and if she lies very quite the doctor thinks she'll get quite well again." "Oh mother! and does Tiza know?"

"Yes, we have just been to tell her. Mrs. Wheeler had put her to bed, but she went up to give her our message, and she said poor little Tiza began to cry again, and wanted us to tell her mother she would be _so_ quiet if only they would let her come back to Becky."

"Will they, mother?"

"In a few days, perhaps. But she is not to see anybody but Mrs. Backhouse for a little while."

"Oh dear!" sighed Milly, while the tears came into her eyes again. "We shall be going away so soon, and we can't say good-bye. Isn't it sad, mother, just happening last thing? and we've been so happy all the time."

"Yes, Milly," said Mr. Norton, lifting her on to his knee. "This is the first really sad thing that ever happened to you in your little life I think. Mother, and I, and Aunt Emma, tell you stories about sad things, but that's very different, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Milly, thinking. "Father, are there as many sad things really as there are in stories?--you know what I mean."

"There are a great many sad things and sad people in the world, Milly. We don't have monsters plaguing us like King Hrothgar, but every day there is trouble and grief going on somewhere, and we happy and strong people must care for the sad ones if we want to do our duty and help to straighten the world a little."

"Father," whispered Milly, softly, "will you tell us how--Olly and me? We would if we knew how."

"Well, Milly, suppose you begin with Becky, and poor Tiza too, indeed. I wonder whether a pair of little people could make a scrap-book for Becky to look at when she is getting better?"

"Oh yes, yes!" said Milly, joyfully, "I've got ever so many pictures in mother's writing-book, she let me cut out of her 'Graphics,' and Olly can help paste; can't you, Olly?"

"Olly generally pastes his face more than anything else," said Mr. Norton, giving a sly pull at his brown curls. "If I'm not very much mistaken, there is a little fairy pasting up your eyes, old man."

"I'm not sleepy, not a bit," said Olly, sitting bolt upright and blinking very fast.

"I think you're not sleepy, but just asleep," said Mr. Norton, catching him up in his arms, and carrying him to his mother to say good-night.

Milly went very soberly and quietly up to bed, and for some little time she lay awake, her little heart feeling very sore and heavy about the "sad things" in the world. Then with her thoughts full of Becky she fell asleep.

So ended Milly's birthday, a happy day and a sorrowful day, all in one. When Milly grew older there was no birthday just before or after it she remembered half so clearly as that on which she was seven years old.


CHAPTER X

LAST DAYS AT RAVENSNEST

On Friday morning the children and their father trudged up very early to the farm to get news of Becky. She had had a bad night Mr. Backhouse said, but she had taken some milk and beef-tea; she knew her father and mother quite well, and she had asked twice for Tiza. The doctor said they must just be patient. Quiet and rest would make her well again, and nothing else, and Tiza was not to go home for a day or two.

As for poor Tiza, a long sleep had cheered her up greatly, and when Milly and Olly went to take her out with them after breakfast, they found her almost as merry and chatty as usual. But she didn't like being kept at the Wheelers's, though they were very kind to her; and it was all Mrs. Wheeler could do to prevent her from slipping up to the farm unknown to anybody.

"They don't have porridge for breakfast," said Tiza, tossing her head, when she and Milly were out together. "Mother always gives us porridge. And I won't sit next Charlie. He's always dirtying hisself. He stickied hisself just all over this morning with treacle. Mother would have given him a clout."

However, on the whole, she was as good as such a wild creature could be, and the children and she had some capital times together. Wheeler the gardener let them gather strawberries and currants for making jam, a delightful piece of work, which helped to keep Tiza out of mischief and make her contented with staying away from home more than anything else. At last, after three days, the doctor said she might come home if she would promise to be quiet in the house. So one bright evening Tiza slipped into the farmhouse and squeezed in after her mother to the little room where Becky was lying, a white-faced feverish little creature, low down among the pillows.

"Becky," said Tiza, sitting down beside her sister, as if nothing had happened, "here's some strawberries. Wheeler gave me some. You can have some if you want."

"Just one," said Becky, in her weak shaky voice, smiling at her; and Tiza knelt on the bed and stuffed one softly into her mouth.

"You'll have to nurse baby now, Tiza," said Becky presently; "he's been under mother's feet terrible. Mind you don't let him eat nasty things. He'll get at the coals if you don't mind him."

"I'll not let him," said Tiza shortly, setting to work on her own strawberries.

All this didn't sound very affectionate; but I think all the same Tiza did love Becky, and I believe she tried to do her best in her own funny way while Becky was ill. Baby screamed a good deal certainly when she nursed him, and it was quite impossible of course for Tiza to keep out of mischief altogether for two or three weeks. Still, on the whole, she was a help to her mother; while as for Becky she was never quite happy when Tiza was out of the house. Becky, like Milly, had a way of loving everybody about her, and next to her mother she loved Tiza best of anybody.

After all, the children were able to say good-bye to Becky. Just the day before they were to go away Mr. Backhouse came down to say that Becky would like to see them very much if they could come, and the doctor said they might.

So up they went; Milly a good deal excited, and Olly very curious to see what Becky would look like. Mr. Backhouse took them in, and they found Becky lying comfortably on a little bed, with a patchwork counterpane, and her shoulders and arms covered up in a red flannel dressing-gown that Aunt Emma had sent her.

Milly kissed her, and Olly shook her hand, and they didn't all quite know what to say.

"Is your back better?" said Milly at last. "I'm so glad the doctor let us come."

"Haven't you got a bump?" asked Olly, looking at her with all his eyes. "We thought you'd have a great black bump on your fore-head, you know--ever so big."

"No, it's a cut," said Becky; "there now, you can see how it's plastered up."

"Did it hurt?" said Olly, "did you kick? I should have kicked. And does the doctor give you nasty medicine?"

"No," said Becky, "I don't have any now. And it wasn't nasty at