Half a Dozen Girls Part 28

"Acute pneumonia, as much as anything," answered the doctor; "but it's mixed up with his rheumatism till he's a poor, forlorn little bundle of aches and pains. They sent for me just in time, too. If they'd waited till morning, we should have lost our Alan."

"What brought it on?" asked Mrs. Adams, and her voice was a little unsteady as she spoke.

"That is the strangest part of it," replied her husband. "He came in this noon, dripping wet, and Mrs. Hapgood hasn't been able to make him tell what had happened."

"Oh, mamma!"

The doctor and his wife both started up, at the sound of the strange, stifled voice. In the door directly behind them stood Polly, barefooted and with her teeth chattering violently, while her face was so swollen with tears as to be almost unrecogizable.

"Polly!"

Mrs. Adams sprang towards her, but Polly waved her off.

"Don't touch me, mamma! Don't kiss me, till you know all about it, what I've done! I'm to blame about Alan."

Without speaking Mrs. Adams caught up the afghan from the sofa and wrapped it closely about her daughter. Then, leading her to the bright wood fire, she sat down before it and took Polly into her lap, as if she had been a little child. The gentleness of her manner, the unspoken sympathy for some trouble which she did not yet know, had started Polly's tears to flowing again, and for a long time she could only cling to her mother and sob, with her head against the soft, warm cheek and a loving arm about her shoulders.

For some moments, the quiet of the room was only broken by the measured ticking of the clock on the mantel and the snapping of the fire on the andirons. At length Mrs. Adams said gently,--

"Now, Polly, tell me all about it."

And Polly told, sparing herself in no way, but giving all the details with a merciless truthfulness, and ending, with a sob,--

"And after all that, mamma, he tried to help me up when I fell, and I drove him off, and now--Oh, what shall I do! Scold me, if you want to; you ought to! I tried to tell you before, but I couldn't."

Mrs. Adams's arms grew tighter about her daughter, while she said gravely, very gravely,--

"Polly, dear, I am much too sorry for you, to scold you."

As she spoke, the doctor rose quietly and left the room, for he felt that what would follow was for mother and daughter alone, and even he had no right to sit by and listen to their words.

"I am sorry for you, dear," her mother went on, after a moment; "not so much for what you are suffering now, as I am because, little by little, you have let your temper get the better of you until to-day, for just this trifle, you have forgotten yourself entirely. The pain you have borne tonight on Alan's account is only a blessing to you, the natural punishment for what you have done, and it will help you to remember this another time, when you are angry. Each one of these fits of temper leaves a scar, Polly, that nothing can ever entirely heal; and I want no such scars on my Polly's womanhood, which must be above reproach. You are very dear to me, my daughter, and my whole life is bound up in my hopes for your future."

"Oh, how can I remember!" sobbed Polly. "It is all over, so in a minute, and then I just hate myself, but it doesn't do the least bit of good."

"It can't be done in a day, Polly; it will take years and years; perhaps it may be the work of a whole lifetime. But if, by watching yourself and struggling to keep back the quick words that come to you, after long years you could cure this temper, wouldn't the 'well done' be yours just as truly as if, for instance, you went on some mission abroad? It is often far more to rule yourself, than it is to spend your life working among the poor and wicked, and takes more courage and selfdenial. That may be the work which is laid out for my little daughter, and I pray that she may do it bravely and well, so that in time I may be as proud and happy in my Polly as I now am fond of her."

As her mother spoke, she rested her face against Polly's curls, and one bright tear sparkled among the soft little rings. Then she resumed,--

"And now, about Alan. I shall not scold you, Polly, for your punishment has come, as it always does, and is hard enough to bear, without my adding a word. But the danger was great, and you have only just escaped the most terrible sorrow that can ever come to any human being. Still, Alan is very ill, and may be for a long, long time to come. Anything that you can do, to make up to him for this, must be at once your duty and your pleasure, and I know that you will feel it to be so."

The talk lasted for a long time, until the fire burned out into cold, white ashes, and Polly s.h.i.+vered in her mother's arms. When she went up-stairs again, Mrs. Adams went with her, and always after the last quiet words in the dark, silent room, Polly felt a new reverence for her mother which never left her in the future years.

Polly went down-stairs to breakfast, the next morning, filled with gloomy forebodings, for she feared Aunt Jane's sharp glances and sharper words. But the doctor had had a plain, decided talk with Miss Roberts, the evening before, and had forbidden her to allude to Polly's trouble, so for once Aunt Jane held her peace. Soon after they left the table, Polly appeared before her mother, with her coat and cap on.

"I'm going, mamma!"

"Where?" inquired Mrs. Adams, in some surprise.

"To Mrs. Hapgood's," answered Polly, nerving herself to speak steadily. "I think I ought to tell her what I did to Alan, for he's keeping it a secret to save me, and she ought to know.

Besides, I must hear how he is."

Mrs. Adams made no attempt to dissuade her, and Polly went down the street, walking more and more slowly as she neared the house, for she felt her courage fast leaving her. At the gate she paused to glance up at the window of Alan's room. The shades were drawn down, and no familiar boy face appeared there, to give her a welcome. How she dreaded to go in! The cold, raw wind swept past her, as she stood there, and it seemed to Polly that the day was strangely in harmony with her life, just then, for the warm, bright air of the morning before had given place to dull, heavy clouds which lay in long, low banners along the mountain side. As she looked up at the window above, she felt a strong, unreasoning desire to turn again and run away towards home; but just then the side door below opened softly, and Mrs. Hapgood stepped out on the piazza.

"Come in, my dear," she said. "I have good news for you; Alan had a fairly comfortable night, and now he is asleep."

"Oh, Mrs. Hapgood!" And Polly told her the story in an excited, breathless fas.h.i.+on, with the same unhesitating truth she had shown in talking to her mother.

If Mrs. Adams had been kind, so was Mrs. Hapgood, as well. She spoke no word of blame, but gathered the forlorn little figure into her arms, and soothed and comforted the child with a.s.surances of her forgiveness and Alan's, too.

"Now, Polly," she said, as she rose, "I must go back up-stairs to my boy again. And if I were in your place, I would let this matter rest a secret between ourselves, your parents and Alan. I promise you that Molly and the other girls shall never know. But I am glad that you felt you could come and tell me about it. We will hope we can have Alan down-stairs before many days, and then you must run in to see him."

Two days later, a note came for Polly, just as she was starting for school.

"Alan wants to see you," it said; "come in for a few minutes."

Polly needed no second bidding, but hurried away, glad at the thought of seeing her friend once more. Mrs. Hapgood saw her coming and met her at the door, to lead her up-stairs to Alan's room. The boy was propped up with pillows, and his face looked rather white and worn, but it lighted as Polly entered, and he stretched out his hand to her eagerly.

"Hullo, Poll!" he exclaimed. "I'm no end glad to see you."

Mrs. Hapgood had left them alone together, but Polly did not stop to notice that, as she darted impulsively to the bed, saying,--

"Oh, Alan!"

Alan understood, but, being a boy, he only squeezed her hand between his, as he said lightly,--

"Bother all that stuff, Polly! Molly was mean to tell, and I was meaner to laugh at you, so I deserved to have my face washed. I sent for you because I knew you'd hear I was sick and worry about it. I didn't mean anybody to know, though."

When Mrs. Hapgood came back again, after a few moments, she found Polly sitting beside the bed, with a happier face than she had worn since the memorable Monday noon, while Alan looked as blissful as she; and when Polly took her departure, a little later, the boy called after her,--

"Come again as soon as you can, Poll. You're a jolly little nurse, and I like to have you round."

CHAPTER XV.

THE PLAY.

It was the last week in March, and the time had finally come for giving the long-discussed play, which had been delayed for some weeks on account of Alan's illness. After the first acute attack had pa.s.sed, there followed, as a result of his drenching, a slow, tedious form of rheumatism which kept him shut up in the house, where he was forced to amuse himself as best he might. His sister and cousins did what they could to make the time pa.s.s quickly and pleasantly; but between school and their cooking club and their frequent calls on Bridget, they had little time for the boy except during the evenings, and he was mainly left to the society of his mother. This had been the state of affairs for more than a week, and Alan was becoming somewhat restless. He was not a saint, but only one of the next best things, a bright, lovable boy; and having rather exhausted his resources of reading, playing solitaire, and talking to his mother, the evening usually found him decidedly cross after his dull day, and he only half responded to the girls' attempts to be entertaining.

"I don't see what's come over Alan," said Molly, one afternoon, as the girls were walking home from school together. "Pie's always been so jolly, and now he's cross as can be. He doesn't act as if he wanted to have anything to say to us, and goes off to bed as soon as he can, after supper. I told him last night I thought he'd better be ashamed of himself."

As Molly spoke, they were just pa.s.sing the Hapgood house. Polly glanced up at Alan's window, in the wing, to see the back of a yellow head, inside the gla.s.s. Molly followed the direction of her eyes, and said, by way of explanation,--

"Alan's not down-stairs to-day. He said he didn't feel like it."