Patricia Part 11

"But oh, I want to go, Custard!" the girl protested; "I know I could help." She closed the library door; the sight of the Christmas-tree, its gay ornaments glittering in the firelight, hurt her.

Patricia went to curl herself up on one of the sitting-room window-seats. Jim had gone with her father; Sarah was down at the gate talking over the accident with the maid from next door. Presently, across the street, a familiar figure came into view, through the gathering twilight. Patricia hurried to the door. "O Nell!" she called.

Nell Hardy came running over. "Patricia, you've heard?"

"Yes; they sent for Daddy. Aunt Julia's gone down to the hotel."

"So's Mama; she wouldn't let me go with her. O Patricia! If it had been the local!"

"Don't, Nell! Come on in and stay; I'm under orders not to leave the house."

They went into the sitting-room, where Patricia brightened up the fire and lit the big lamp, with its crimson shade. Then she came to sit beside Nell on the broad old lounge. "Nell, aren't you wild to help too?

If only Daddy hadn't--Oh, I know--" The next moment Patricia was out in the hall at the telephone.

Nell waited wonderingly.

"Come on, Nell!" Patricia stood in the open doorway, her eyes dancing.

"Five of them coming!"

"What are you talking about, Pat?"

"Children." Patricia was leading the way upstairs. "I got Mrs. Brown, down at the hotel, on the 'phone. I wish you could have heard her!"

"Children! I should say so, Miss Patricia! Five of them crying in my own sitting-room at this minute. No, not hurt; frightened out of their wits, and their own people too hurt to look after them. And when I asked if I might have them up here, Nell, I wish you could have heard her. She's sending them right up in one of the hotel rigs."

"But, Patricia--"

"There aren't any buts in this affair. We'll take Aunt Julia's room and mine. It won't do to turn Daddy out of his, and I must have communicating ones."

"But your aunt--" Nell began again.

"Oh, Aunt Julia'll understand." Patricia was kneeling before the deep fireplace in her aunt's room, piling it generously with wood from the box in the corner.

"Miss P'tricia, what yo' up ter?" Sarah demanded, unexpectedly, from the doorway. "Yo' know Miss Julia don' like a fire in her room nights--an'

de house like summer now, wid de furnuss!"

"Aunt Julia isn't sleeping here tonight," Patricia answered, calmly; "and I particularly want the room cheerful; you know, there's nothing like an open fire for making things cheerful."

"Miss P'tricia, what yo' be'n doin'?"

And Patricia explained.

Sarah rolled her black eyes ceiling-wards. "Who ever heerd tell o' sich doin's! I'd jus' like ter know who done gib yo' commission ter do this, Miss P'tricia! An' whatever is yo' goin' do wid five strange young uns?"

"Make them happy and comfortable, I hope," Patricia laughed. "There they are now. Start a fire in my room, please, Sarah, and make up a bed on my lounge. Come on, Nell," and Patricia was out of the room and downstairs in a flash.

Before the steps stood the carriage from the hotel, and from within it five white, frightened little faces looked anxiously out.

Patricia made straight for the youngest one, a two-year-old girl. "You poor baby!" she cried, softly.

Heedless, impulsive, Patricia had at least the gift of winning her way right to a child's heart; and without a moment's hesitation the child put a pair of clinging little arms about her neck.

She and Nell took the five into the warm, bright sitting-room, where they took off hats and coats and gently rubbed the cold little hands.

"Why, you're not much more than babies, any of you!" Patricia glanced pityingly from one to another of her proteges.

"I'm seven," the oldest answered. "I'm Norma Howard; she's my little sister Totty." She pointed to the baby on Patricia's lap. "She keeps crying for Mama--Mama was hurt," Norma hid her face against Patricia.

Patricia slipped an arm about her. "I shouldn't wonder if my Daddy were looking after her right now. He's the best doctor in the whole world!"

She turned to the two little boys, staring up at her from the depths of the doctor's big chair: "And are you brothers?"

"No'm," the larger one responded; "we've only just 'come 'quainted. He's only five; I'm five 'an half. I'm Archibald Sears; his name's Tommy--I want my mother!"

Tommy's blue eyes filled. "So do I," he cried.

Totty took up the wail; and the little four-year-old girl on Nell's lap promptly followed suit.

"What shall we do?" Nell asked, imploringly.

But at that moment Sarah appeared. She took Tommy up in her strong, motherly arms, soothing him in practised fas.h.i.+on. "There, there, honey!

Yo's goin' have yo' mother pretty soon. What yo' wants now's yo' supper, ain't it, honey? I reckon ain't no one had de sense ter gib yo' chillens a mite ter eat."

Tommy tucked his head down on Sarah's broad shoulder with a pathetic little sigh of comfort. In the home which at this moment seemed very far away to Tommy was an old colored mammy. He refused to let Sarah put him down, so she took him with her while she got ready the five bowls of warm bread and milk, which she declared the best possible supper for all the children under the circ.u.mstances.

"But whatever put such a notion in yo' head, Miss P'tricia, is more'n I kin figger out," she declared a few moments later, guiding the sleepy Tommy's spoon in its journey from bowl to mouth. "What yo' reckon yo'

pa's goin' say?"

"I think," Patricia glanced about the table, "that just at present Daddy would say--bed."

"H'm," Sarah grunted, "yo' knows what I means. Well, it's sure got ter be a bath for them all 'fore it kin be bed; so we'd best get started."

She headed the little procession upstairs, Tommy in her arms, Patricia bringing up the rear with Totty.

"If it hadn't come about in such a dreadful way, wouldn't it be perfectly lovely?" Patricia said. "Think of it, Nell--_five_ children to spend Christmas with one!"

Nell laughed. "Your Christmas isn't over yet, Pat; it won't be all smooth running."

"You can't scare me. Nell, we'll hang up their stockings for them. They must have their Christmas."

"What yo' goin' do fo' night things fo' dem, Miss P'tricia?" Sarah asked, suddenly; "'pears like ain't none o' 'em come much laden down wid luggage."

"N-no," Patricia answered; "probably their things weren't very get-atable. We'll have to take some of my gowns, Sarah."

Whereupon Archibald lifted up his voice in swift protestation; he didn't want to wear a girl's things; he wanted to go home; he wanted to sleep in his own bed; he wanted his mother!

At that all-compelling word four other voices rose in instantaneous lamentation, even Norma catching the general infection.

"Sarah, can't you do something?" Patricia implored. "Nell, what does your mother do when your brothers cry like this?"

"They--don't cry like this," Nell answered, trying desperately to quiet Lydia.