A Modern Cinderella, Amanda Minnie Douglas [free ereaders .txt] 📗

and she put her gently back on the cot where she soon fell asleep.

There was slight rise of fever and restlessness about noon. She talked in broken snatches imploring Jack not to do this or that and not to pinch the babies. Then she was so tired, so tired! But about midafternoon, she seemed to rouse and come to herself and said she was hungry. There was broth and hot milk and some stewed fruit, and Jane brushed her hair that fell in a bed of rings and asked if she didn't want to sit up. She brought her over by the window so she could look out, but the back yard was very pretty for it was gay with blooming flowers.

Miss Armitage had been to church, and at two she had a class of young girls who were clerks in stores. Half of them were going away on Monday to the Rest House for a week, and they were full of that. Two of them had never been before. Was it like Coney Island?

"It is not far from the shore, the broad Sound that leads out to the ocean. But there are not side shows. Just rowing and bathing, and a ride every day in a big omnibus. And plenty of girls. Oh, you won't be lonesome;" and Miss Armitage smiled.

"Another girl and I went away last summer to a house that wasn't country but a beautiful street with lawns in front. There were three ladies, and oh, they were so particular. They did not have any story papers and the books were all dull and religious and if you took up one you must put it back in the same place. They didn't like us to talk 'store' nor sing any street songs and one lady only played hymns on the piano. Oh, we _were_ so homesick."

"The Rest House has a big farm and chickens and two cows, and a tennis court and croquet. And there are lovely walks. And hammocks and swings."

"That's the ticket!" said one of the girls. "You want some fun."

Miss Armitage did not check her. She thought of the amusements and pleasures of her youth. Then she came home to her little girl whose face lighted up with gladness, and who put out her thin hand.

"You look lovely," Marilla said. "And I'm getting almost well."

"That is good news," and the lady smiled.

"Only it seems so queer when I try to think. It is such a long while. I seem to have been lost and couldn't find my way out. Do you know where the babies are?"

"They all went down to Long Island. I sent them a new girl. And Bridget was here to inquire about you."

"Oh, she was so good to me. I was a little afraid of her at first, especially when she said she'd 'skin me alive.' Don't you think it would hurt dreadfully? She used to threaten Jack, but she never did it. And she said that about the fairy godmother and the King's ball was a dream. What is it that goes to strange places when you are asleep? And how can you enjoy and remember all, and hear the music for days afterward? If there are two lives, one for day and one for night, why doesn't the night one go straight on?"

"You'll have to ask the doctor these curious puzzles. They are beyond me."

"Is Bridget at the house?" she inquired after a moment's thought.

"She was going away to some cousin to stay a week as Mr. Borden will be down to--Bayside, I think it is, all the week."

"When I get well I suppose I shall have to go back to the babies. You know I am a bound out girl--until I am eighteen. But they'll be growing bigger all the time. I wish they were as pretty as Jack. Don't you think all babies ought to be pretty? And have curly hair?"

"I think the curly hair quite an addition."

"There's another puzzle. Why should some hair curl and some hair keep straight?"

"I don't know. But your's is curly," smiling.

"Yes, I like it. At the Home there were two other girls with curly hair. And the nurse said it made us vain, so she cut it close to the skin and she said it wouldn't curl any more. That was last summer. But it did when it grew out, and I was glad. I tried to make the babies curl, and Mrs. Borden said she'd give me a silver dollar if I could. But it was _so_ straight and there wasn't much of it. Do you remember the fat little girl of the Campbell's Soups? The babies look a good deal like her. They have high foreheads and round eyes full of wonder, and such chubby cheeks. But Aunt Florence said Mr. Borden was just such a baby and he isn't at all chubby now and has dark eyes. Jack's are dark. Maybe they'll grow prettier. But they're good and--funny. They laugh over everything, and they seem to understand everything I say or read to them. I wonder if they will like the new girl."

"She is very pleased and, I think, patient--four years older than you."

"Oh, suppose they didn't want me back?" and the child drew a long breath of half fear.

"There will be something else," in an assuring tone.

Marilla leaned her head back on the pillow. She had talked herself tired. How queer that was, too, when she had talked for hours to the babies.

"Would you like me to read to you?" inquired Miss Armitage.

"Oh, yes, if it's verses. There's a curious music in verses that goes all through you, keeping time to something in your brain. I just love them."

The lady found "Songs of Seven" with its musical lilt and the child listened wide-eyed as if it made pictures to her. Then the doctor came in and was very much pleased over her improvement.

But the next day she was quite languid again. She took a few steps when suddenly everything swam before her eyes and she would have fallen but for Jane's strong arm.

"Oh, you don't suppose I can never walk any more?" she cried in affright. "For there was a nurse at the Home who fell down that way and she had been very well, too. But something happened to her hips. I can't think what they called it, and she never could walk again. They had to send her to the hospital and she could get about just a little on crutches. Oh, dear" and Marilla began to cry.

"There don't think of such a thing. It was only weakness," comforted Miss Armitage. "Once when I was ill I fainted a great many times for just nothing at all. You have not had a chance to get strong yet."

Marilla recalled seeing the nurse brought down stairs on a stretcher, they called it. And the doctor said she could never walk again. Oh, how dreadful that would be. She turned her face over on the pillow and let the tears drop silently, and she could not swallow any supper, something lay so heavy on her breast. Miss Armitage kissed her, and Marilla twined her arms around the soft white neck hardly hidden by the lace. There had never been any one to love during the later years. And her mother had been busy and away in a store.

"Don't worry, dear," said the soothing voice. "God takes care of us all."

The sun was shining the next morning and the next door canary hanging out on the back porch was singing with all his might and main. Such long sweet warbles, such a merry staccato with little pauses, as if he asked--"Now, what do you think of that?" and the child laughed with a sense of glee. Oh, how nice it would be to be a bird. But she wouldn't want to live in a cage _all_ the time.

Jane came and gave her a bath, rubbed her softly but thoroughly across the hips and up and down the spine, holding her up with one strong arm. Marilla took a frightened step, then another and laughingly flung her arms around Jane's neck, crying--

"Oh, I can walk! I can walk!"

"Why did you think you could never walk again?" Jane laughed wholesomely.

"I felt so queer--and I thought of the woman at the Home."

"But she must have been quite an old body. They do get paralyzed; children don't. Oh, you must not think of dreadful things. Come, see how you can walk."

Jane's arm was around her and she led her back to the room and dressed her. Miss Armitage came up just then and greeted her with a happy smile. But Marilla felt shaky and was very glad to sit down on the couch.

"Now I shall bring you up some breakfast," said Jane.

"Don't you suppose I could go down and have some real breakfast at the table--not today, but sometime."

Then Marilla flushed. She was a bound-out girl and had always taken her meals with Bridget.

"Yes, I think so. We will see what the doctor says this morning. I shall have to go out presently and see twenty girls get started for a vacation. They are in stores and factories, and have two weeks in the summer, and the Rest House doesn't charge any board--they earn so little. When you are well enough to travel about, I must take you out to the House."

Maybe she wouldn't have to go back to the babies right away!

The breakfast tasted good, though it was only a poached egg and some toast. But she didn't seem very hungry, and though she felt sort of joyously well at heart her body was tired and she lay on the couch to rest. The doctor found her quiet and there was a whimsical light playing over his face and settling in his eyes.

"So you haven't run away yet?" he began.

"I don't believe I could run very far. Yet I seem quite well--and it's queer, too."

Jane said you fainted yesterday.

"Well it was--something, and then I was frightened--"

"Stand up a moment." He helped her to her feet, then he passed his hand down her spine and over her hips. "Does it hurt any?" he asked.

"No, not a real hurt."

"You fell off of the stoop over there, a boy said."

"The baby dropped something and I went to pick it up, I guess I stumbled. And when I turned round everything was upside down and black and I don't remember any more until I was over here. Miss Armitage was so good, is so good."

"Yes; well it might have been worse. But I think now you are on the high road to health again."

"I've never been real sick unless this is it," and she gave a vague smile.

"I think it is," nodding humorously. "The babies have been rather too much for you this hot weather. Were you very fond of them?"

"Well, they were not bad and very funny. You can't love bad people."

"Oh, can't you?"

"No, you can't," with an emphasis. "You may like them and think they're pretty and sweet sometimes, but you don't truly love them I mean you wouldn't choose them if you had you choice."

"Which you don't often have in this world. Now what would be your choice?"

"Oh, I'd like to