Katherine's Sheaves Part 29

"I wish you could, dear," said Katherine, bending to kiss the wistful face. "Well--why can't she?" she added, turning suddenly to Mrs. Seabrook; "she could have a place in the Carnival of Flowers. Will you allow her to?"

Mrs. Seabrook smiled, but there was a sad yearning in her soft eyes as they rested upon her helpless child.

"I hardly think it would do. I am afraid it could not be arranged," she doubtfully replied.

"Indeed it could, and very easily. I have a lovely idea!" said Katherine, eagerly. "Let her take the Calla Lily--no one has chosen that because the flowers are too stiff to trim a dress gracefully. But Dorothy's chair could be transformed into a chariot of lilies, and I am sure they could be so arranged about her that she would look like a fairy in the midst of them. If you are willing I will talk it over with the girls. We will manage everything, so that she will not be wearied with any of the preparations, and I will take charge of her while she is on the stage. I know that she would have a beautiful time."

"Oh, mamma, if I only might!" breathed Dorothy, rapturously, and carried away by the attractive prospect.

"Well, we will talk it over with papa; if he consents I will not say no, and certainly Miss Minturn's suggestion is very alluring,"

replied her mother, as she bestowed a grateful smile on Katherine.

Prof. Seabrook could see no objection to the plan, and as everybody was always glad to contribute to the enjoyment of the sick girl, the idea was eagerly adopted, and Miss Dorothy was at once chosen to be the central figure in the tableau.

It proved to be a most effective one, with the bevy of gorgeously garlanded maidens artistically grouped around their lily queen, who entered heartily into the spirit of the scene.

The child's chair had indeed been transformed! No one would have recognized it, covered as it was with a wealth of pure white blossoms and dark-green leaves, for it looked more like the throne of a fairy than like anything so ordinary and unpretentious. Mrs.

Seabrook, who possessed exquisite taste, had so ma.s.sed the blossoms around her and daintily perched an inverted one on her head that the effect was exceedingly beautiful and picturesque.

Katherine, who had chosen to be "Lady Poppea," made a brilliant foil, on one side, with her garlands and basket of vivid scarlet poppies; while another junior, bedecked with fuchsias, stood on the opposite side and held an umbrella, made of and fringed with the same flowers, protectingly over her; and with a score or more others forming a variegated background, the scene was brilliant and gorgeous beyond description.

The applause was tumultuous; for, aside from the exceeding beauty of the picture, every heart in the audience was touched by the happy little face looking out at them from the midst of her devoted subjects, and the curtain was raised and lowered several times before they could be satisfied.

Then the proud and happy juniors hastily divested themselves of their gay trappings and hurried away to join their friends and trip to inspiring music in the main hall below; thus Katherine was left with Dorothy alone on the stage.

"Wasn't it perfectly lovely, Miss Minturn?" exclaimed the girl in a rapturous tone and with s.h.i.+ning eyes. "I never saw you look so pretty, and I never had such a happy time in all my life. I only wish I could have seen the whole of it."

"I think you will, later; or at least something very like it; for, when that flash light was thrown on, as the curtain went up the last time, somebody took a snapshot at us," Katherine replied, smiling fondly into the eager face.

"Oh! who was it?"

"Some one whom you know. Guess!"

"Uncle Phil?"

"Yes; he asked permission of the president of the cla.s.s. But now I must see about getting you out of this place. I wonder where Alice can be!" said Katherine, looking out towards the deserted dressing room for the nurse, who had promised to be on hand to receive her charge as soon as everything was over.

She had been disconnecting several ropes of flowers that had been attached to the chair while she was talking, and, as no one came to a.s.sist her, she now rolled the girl towards the side of the stage, thinking, perhaps, she might get her off herself, as it was not very high.

But she had missed one rope, and, as it trailed along the floor, it swept over a saucer containing some still smoking Greek fire, or red light, that had been carelessly left just where it had been used.

The soft paper ignited in an instant, and the next moment the lower part of the lily chariot was ablaze.

"Oh! Miss Minturn!" shrieked Dorothy, "save me! save me!"

For a second Katherine thought she would faint.

The next she s.n.a.t.c.hed a portiere that had been used in one of the tableaux and left upon the floor, and wrapped it closely around the burning paper, beating it with her hands and doing her utmost to smother the cruel flames. "Don't be afraid, dear," she said to the girl, who, after that one half-crazed appeal, seemed to be paralyzed with fear, "you are G.o.d's child--you cannot be harmed.

He is Life, and there are no fatalities in His realm, 'though thou walk through the fire thou shalt not be burned.'"

She did not know that she was talking aloud; she was not conscious of what she was saying; she only knew that she was reaching out, with her whole soul, to the ever-present Love wherein lay protection and safety, and all the time mechanically pulling the portiere closer about the chair.

Suddenly she heard a low, startled exclamation, saw Dorothy s.n.a.t.c.hed from among the smoke-blackened lilies and pa.s.sed along to Alice, who at last had appeared upon the scene; then, as in a dream, she felt herself enveloped in a shawl which was drawn so tightly about her skirts that she could not move, and saw Dr.

Stanley's pale, anxious face looking down into hers, while he told her, in calm, rea.s.suring tones, that there was nothing to fear.

"Can you stand so for a minute while I look after that still smoking chair?" he presently asked, and putting a corner of the shawl into her hand to hold.

Fortunately it was her left hand, and she grasped it mechanically, while she tried to mentally deny the well-nigh unbearable pain that was making itself felt in her right hand and wrist.

It was the work of but two or three minutes to crush out the last smoldering spark among the ruined lilies, for the flames had been effectually smothered by Katherine's presence of mind in wrapping the portiere about them and by her vigorous beating.

Then the physician turned again to her and gently removed the shawl from her burned and disfigured skirts.

"It is all out, thank G.o.d!" he said, after carefully looking her over. "It was a narrow escape for you and Dorrie, as well as from a serious conflagration. Now tell me, Miss Minturn, are you burned?" he concluded, searching her white face with troubled eyes.

She tried to smile as she glanced down at her ruined dress.

"A few dollars will make it all right, and that doesn't matter,"

she returned evasively, but with lips that quivered in spite of her effort at self-control.

"You were badly frightened, poor child! but it is over," he gently observed, the tense lines of his face softening in a rea.s.suring smile.

Then, seeing that she was keeping her right hand out of sight, he reached down and drew it forward into the light.

"Miss Minturn!" he exclaimed, as he saw the reddened flesh and three great blisters, "you did it beating out the fire to save Dorothy. Come with me and I will dress it immediately."

"No," she said, setting her teeth resolutely; "go to her; I shall do very well. Go!" she repeated, almost sharply, "for I saw that she had fainted when Alice took her."

His brow contracted, and for an instant he seemed on the point of insisting upon taking care of her first.

Then he drew forth his handkerchief and folded it gently about her hand, saying:

"Well, if I must; but go you directly to your room and I will come to you as soon as I can."

Katherine could bear no more, and, turning abruptly from him, sped from the place.

As she pa.s.sed out of the lecture hall, she almost ran into Miss Reynolds, who was on her way downstairs.

"Katherine!" she cried, aghast, as she caught sight of her pain- contracted face, the handkerchief on her hand and her smoke- blackened clothes, "what has happened?"

"Oh! may I go to your room?" gasped the girl.

"Of course; come," and without another word the woman turned and led the way.

"Lock the door and don't let anyone in," said Katherine, as she sank into the nearest chair and covered her face with her well hand.

Miss Reynolds quietly obeyed, then went to her desk and began to read aloud, in a calm, clear voice, from the open "Science and Health" that lay upon it.

For half an hour she kept on without stopping; but she then began to be conscious that effectual work was being done, for, at first, the sufferer sitting behind her had been unable to keep still a moment; but gradually she became less restless, and at the end of forty-five minutes had grown perfectly quiet and lay back in her chair, her face pale but peaceful.