Christmas gold, p.469
Christmas Gold, page 469
The Kenneth place was rather out of range of all this.
"But our little farm may be quite valuable by and by," declared Hal. "It would be astonishing, Granny, if you were to become a rich woman before you died."
"I'll have to live a good long while;" and Granny gave her cracked but still pleasant little laugh.
Joe remained nearly two years and a half with Capt. Burton, when the crowning good fortune of his life, as he thought it, occurred. This was nothing less than an opportunity to go to China, his great ambition.
It almost broke Granny's heart. To have him away two or three months had appeared a long while; but when it came to be years—
"Of course I shall return," declared Joe. "Did you ever hear of a fish being drowned, or a bad penny that didn't come back? And then for a silk gown, Granny, and a crape shawl! You shall have one if you are a hundred years old, and have to hobble around with a crutch."
"I'd rather have you than a hundred silk gowns."
"And I expect you to have me. The very handsomest grandson in the family. If you are not proud of me, Granny, I shall cut you off with a shilling, and wear a willow garland all the days of my life, in token of grief."
So he kept them laughing to the latest moment; and, after all, it was not so very different from the other partings. But he declared, if Granny didn't live to see him come home, he never should be able to forgive her.
Hal actually went down to New York to see him off, and had a pleasant visit with Mrs. Burton. It was a great event in the boy's life.
"I didn't think there ever could be quite such a splendid place!" he said on his return. "And the great beautiful bay, with its crowds and crowds of shipping, looking like flocks of birds in the distance; but the people almost frightened me, for it seemed as if one could never get out of the tangle. Then the park is just like fairy-land. And I found a place where a man buys cut-flowers, especially all kinds of beautiful white ones. And, Granny, one could make a good deal of money with a hot-house."
"I hope you'll have it," Granny answered; though, truth to tell, she had no very clear ideas upon the subject, except that Hal of all others deserved to have his dream come true.
Hal had treated himself to a book on gardening, and another on floriculture. He was fifteen now,—a steady, industrious little chap; and the farmers round were very glad to have him when they were in a hurry or ran short of help. For Hal had a good many very sensible ideas, and sometimes quite astonished the country people who went on in the same groove as their fathers and grandfathers. To be sure, they laughed and pooh-poohed a little; but, when his plans proved more fortunate in some respect, they admitted that he had an old head on young shoulders.
"I'm going to have some nice hot-beds for next spring," he said to Granny. "I'm sure I can sell early lettuce and radishes, and some of those things."
So he worked on, spending his leisure days in improving his own little garden-spot. The place had begun "to blossom like a rose," dear Joe said. There were honeysuckle and roses trained over the house, making it a pretty little nest, in spite of want of paint and a general tumbling into decay. Over the kitchen part crept clusters of wisteria; and in front there were two mounds of flowers, making the small dooryard bright and attractive.
The chickens had to be kept by themselves, on Hal's farm. Every day he felt thankful for that little plot of ground. Mr. Terry was glad to take all their eggs, for Hal managed that they should be large and choice.
"And if I should have a hot-house by the time Joe comes back, it will be just royal!"
Granny smiled.
Poor dear Hal! One day he was working out in the hayfield, gay as a lark; and Farmer Morris said his boys did as much again work when Hal was there. The last load was going home. Hal mounted to the top, calling merrily to the group, when the horses gave a sudden start. It seemed as if he only slid down, and the distance was not very great; but he lay quite still. They waited for a laugh or a shout, and then ran; but Hal's face was over in the grass.
Great brawny Sam lifted him up, uttering a sharp cry; for Hal was deathly white, and could not stand. A deep groan escaped the lips that had laughed with gladness only a moment ago, and were now drawn to a thin blue line.
They crowded round with awe-stricken faces.
"Oh, he isn't dead!"
"No, I guess not;" and Sam's voice had a quiver in it, as if tears were not far off. "O father, father!"
Mr. Morris hurried to the spot.
"Poor Hal! Let's take him home, and send for a doctor. I wouldn't had it happen for a hundred dollars! It'll about kill his grandmother."
Hal gave another groan, but did not open his eyes.
"Can't we rig up some kind of a litter? for, if he's hurt much, it will never do to carry him by hand. Run get a shutter, Sam. Dick, go and bring a hatful of water. Poor boy! I'd rather it had been one of my own."
Dick flew to the brook, and brought back some water, with which they bathed the small white face. Then Sam made his appearance, with a shutter on his shoulder.
"Raise him softly, so. Dick, run after Dr. Meade as fast as you can go. We'll take him home."
They lifted him with tender hands; but both soul and body were unconscious of pain. Sam brushed away some tears with his shirt-sleeve, and Farmer Morris spread his linen coat over the silent figure. It was some distance to Mrs. Kenneth's.
Charlie was firing stones at a mark; but she rushed to the gate and screamed, "Granny, Granny!"
When Granny Kenneth saw them with their burden, a speechless agony seized every pulse. She could not even utter a cry.
"He isn't dead," Farmer Morris hurried to say. "But it's a sad day's work, and I'd a hundred times rather it had been my Dick."
"O Hal, my darling! The greatest comfort your poor old Granny had! No, I can't have him die. Oh! will God hear us, and pity me a little? I've had a sight o' troubles in my day, but this"—
They laid him on Granny's bed, and washed his face with camphor, feeling of the limp wrists, and chafing the cold hands.
A little quiver seemed to run along the lips, deepening into a shudder, and then a groan which they were thankful to hear.
"No, he isn't dead. Thank God for that!"
Fortunately Dr. Meade was at home, and he lost no time in coming over immediately.
Mr. Morris and the doctor stripped off Hal's clothes, and began to examine the limbs. The arms were all right,—ankles, knees, ah, what was this!
Hal opened his eyes, and uttered an excruciating cry.
Granny rocked herself to and fro, her poor old brain wild with apprehension, for his pain was hers.
"The trouble's here,—in the thigh. Not a break, I hope; but it's bad enough!"
Bad enough they found it,—a severe and complicated fracture, and perhaps internal injuries.
"Do your best, doctor," said Mr. Morris. "I'm going to foot this bill; and if any thing'll save him"—
He sent Sam back for some articles that they needed, and tried patiently to understand the full extent of the injury. Part of the time Hal was unconscious. And after a long while they laid him on his back, bandaged, but more dead than alive.
"My wife will come over and stay with you," Mr. Morris said to Granny. "She's a master hand at nursing."
Dot hid herself in the shadow of Granny's skirts, clinging fast with her little hands; and Kit and Charlie huddled in the corner of the kitchen window-sill, crying softly. No one wanted any supper, except the chickens, who asked in vain.
All night Granny prayed in her broken, wandering way. God had her own dear Joe up in heaven. Flossy was gone; little Joe was on the wide ocean; and how could she live without her precious Hal! Not but what he was good enough to be an angel, only—only—and the poor heart seemed breaking.
God listened and answered. The August weather was hot and sultry; and Hal had to battle with fever, with dreadful languor and mortal pain. He used to think sometimes that it would be blessed to die, and have a little rest, but for Granny's sake!—
After the first fortnight the danger was over, and the case progressing fairly. Hal's back had received some injury, that was evident, and recovery would be tedious. But Granny was so thankful to have him any way.
Everybody was very kind. Mr. and Mrs. Howard came often; the Terrys sent in many luxuries; Sam Morris drew a cord of wood, sawed, split, and piled it; and there was nothing wanting. But Hal lay there white and wan, his fingers growing almost as thin as Dot's little bird's claws.
"I can't understand why it had to happen to you, Hal," Granny would exclaim piteously. "Now, if it had been Charlie, who is always sky-larking round; but you, the very best one of 'em all!"
Hal would sigh. He couldn't exactly understand it, either. But somehow—God was so much greater than them all; and he did keep watch, for it was better to be lying here than in the churchyard yonder.
Mr. Fielder had gone away, and Hal felt the loss sorely. He was a little afraid of Mr. Howard, and could not seem to talk of his plans and his flowers, and ask any question that puzzled him; though Mr. Howard kindly sent him entertaining books, and used to drop in for a chat now and then.
September passed. Hal was still unable to sit up, and he began to grow weary of the confinement.
"Granny," he said one day, "I believe I'll have to be a girl, and learn to make myself useful. I could knit a little once, or I might sew patchwork. There is no one to laugh at me."
"Dear heart, so you shall," replied Granny.
So she cut him out a pile of pretty bright calicoes begged of the dressmaker. And then he knit Charlie a pair of yarn mittens, and crocheted some edging for Dot's white apron.
Indeed, Dot was a great comfort to him. She used to climb up on his bed with her "Red Riding Hood," or "Mother Goose Melodies," and read him stories by the hour. Then she would twine her fingers in his soft brown hair to make him "pretty," as she said, and cuddle him in various ways, always ending with a host of kisses and, "Dotty so sorry for you, Hal!"
For she was still a little midget, and cried so dreadfully the first day she went to school that they let her stay home. Hal had taught her a great deal; but she was so shy that she would hardly say a word to a stranger.
Charlie began to improve a little, it must be confessed; though she had fits of abstraction, when she salted the pan of dish-water in the closet, and threw the knives and forks out of doors, and one day boiled the dish-cloth instead of the potatoes, which Hal fancied must be army-soup; and sometimes, without the slightest apparent cause, she would almost laugh herself into hysterics.
"What is the matter?" Granny would ask. "Are you out of your head?"
And Charlie would answer, "I was only thinking."
"I'd like to get inside of her brain, and see what was there," Hal would sometimes remark.
The chickens had to be made ready and taken to market this year without any of Hal's assistance. And then he began to wonder if he ever would get well? Suppose he did not?
Chapter XIII.
From Gray Skies to Blue
Table of Contents
They were pretty poor, to be sure,—poor as in the hardest of times. There were the chickens, and Granny could make a bit of broth for Hal; but Kit and Charlie raced like deers, and had appetites. After Granny bought them clothes and shoes, the funds were rather low. Hal guessed at it all, but Granny never made any complaints.
He had begun a tidy in red-and-white diamond-shaped blocks; but it seemed to grow upon his hands; and one day when Dot called it a beautiful bedcrilt, for her tongue still had a few kinks in it, a new idea crept into his brain.
"Do you think it would make a pretty spread?" he asked Mrs. Howard rather timidly, during a call.
"Why, it would, to be sure, and so serviceable! It is a bright idea, Hal."
"Do you suppose I could sell it?"
"If you want to—yes."
"I can't do any thing else," said Hal with a sigh; "and if I have to stay here all winter."
For Hal's back was so weak that he could only be bolstered up in the bed, and he had not walked a step yet.
Mrs. Howard thought a moment, then said,—
"Finish it Hal, and I will see that it is sold."
So Hal went on hopefully. Granny bewailed the fact that she had done nothing all the fall to help along. They missed their allowance from Joe; but they had heard from him in his usual glowing and exuberant fashion.
Mrs. Howard took a trip around Madison one morning, and held sundry mysterious conferences with some of her neighbors, returning home quite well pleased.
"I am so glad I thought of it!" she said to her husband; and he answered, "So am I, my dear."
One afternoon early in December she went over to Mrs. Kenneth's. Dot had been clearing up under Hal's instructions, and they looked neat as a pin. After she found that her visitor intended to remain, Granny put on a fresh calico dress and a clean cap; and they had a nice old-fashioned time talking, which Hal enjoyed exceedingly.
Mrs. Howard had brought a basket full of various luxuries,—some nice cold tongue, and part of a turkey, besides jellies and cake. Quite a little feast, indeed.
Hal begged them to have tea in the best room, where he lay; and he enjoyed it almost as much as if he could have sat up to the table. Kit and Charlie were delighted with the feast.
Then they settled every thing again, and Granny stirred the fire. The wind whistled without, but within it was bright and cheerful. Hal felt very happy indeed. It seemed as if God's strong arms were about him, helping him to bear the weariness, as he had been strengthened to bear pain.
Presently there was a tramping up the path, and a confusion of voices.
"Some one is coming;" and Hal raised himself. "I am almost sorry—we were having such a nice, quiet time."
A knock at the door, which Granny opened. Kit, in the glowing chimney-corner, rubbed his eyes; and it would have been hard to tell which was the sleepiest, he or the old gray cat.
"O-o-h!" exclaimed Charlie; and then she darted to Hal. "A whole crowd of 'em!"
A crowd, sure enough. It was something of a mystery to know how they were going to get in that small place. There was Dr. and Mrs. Meade, Mr. Howard, Mr. and Mrs. Morris, and the boys, all the Terrys,—indeed, half Madison, Hal thought.
Mrs. Howard laughed a little at Hal's puzzled face.
"Oh!—I guess"—
Granny in the other room was quite overcome. Parcels and bags and boxes, shaking of hands, and clattering of tongues.
"It isn't exactly Christmas, Hal," began Mr. Morris; "but Santa Claus does sometimes lose his reckoning. So we thought we'd all drop in."
"And give me a surprise-party," said Hal.
"Exactly. Why, you look quite bright, my boy!"
Hal was bright enough then, with cheeks like roses, and lustrous eyes.
Dr. Meade sat him up in the bed. One and another came to shake hands, and say a pleasant word; and in a few moments the whole group were laughing and talking. There was skating already over on the pond, the boys told him; they were going to have a Christmas exhibition; Jim Terry had received a letter from Joe; and all the small gossip that sounds so pleasant when one is shut within doors.
Then Mrs. Howard brought out the bedspread. None of the boys laughed at Hal, you may be sure; and the older people thought it quite wonderful. Mrs. Morris declared that she'd really like to have it.
"It is for sale," said Hal with a little flush.
"Let's take shares!" exclaimed Sam. "Now's your chance, mother: how much will you give?"
"A right good plan," returned Mrs. Meade.
After a little discussion they adopted it. There were twenty-six people who subscribed a dollar; and then the slips of paper were arranged for drawing. The younger portion were considerably excited; and Hal's face was in a glow of interest.
So they began. One after another took his or her chance; and, when it was through, they all opened their slips of paper, looking eagerly at each other.
Clara Terry blushed scarlet; and Sam's quick eyes caught the unusual brilliancy. For the cream of the affair was, that Clara expected to be married in a few weeks.
Dr. Meade guessed also, and then they had a good laugh. Hal was delighted.
"It went to the right one," said Mr. Morris. "So much towards housekeeping, Clara."
"I shall always think of Joe as well as you," she said in a soft whisper to Hal, holding the thin fingers a moment.
After that they had a pleasant time singing. Hal was very fond of vocal music. It seemed to him about the happiest night of his life. Then the crowd began to disperse.
"I have thought of something new, Hal," said Dr. Meade. "I sent to New York this morning for a small galvanic battery, to try if electricity will not help you. We shall have you around yet: do not be discouraged."
"Everybody is so kind"—and Hal's voice quivered. "This has been a lovely surprise party."
After they were gone Charlie began to count up the spoils; and every exclamation grew longer and louder. There was a large ham, a fine turkey, tea and coffee and butter, flour, rice, farina, cake and biscuit, a bag of apples, and some cans of fruit.
"We shall live like kings," said Granny, with a little sound in her voice that might have been a sob or a laugh. "And only this morning I was a wondering how we should get along."
"And twenty-six dollars. Why, it is almost as good as being a minister, and having a donation-party."
"God doesn't forget us, you see," said Hal with great thankfulness.
He finished the spread a few days afterward, and sent it to Miss Clara; and then Mrs. Meade brought him the materials to make her one.
The fracture had united; but there seemed such a terrible weakness of the muscles in Hal's back, that Dr. Meade had become rather apprehensive. But, after using electricity a few weeks, there was an improvement. And one day Hal balanced himself upon two crutches.
"That's red hot!" ejaculated Charlie.
"O Charlie! worthy follower of Joe, what will you do when you get to be a young lady?"
"Oh, dear! I wish I didn't have to be one;" and Charlie began to cry. "I'll wear a big stone on top of my head."
"I am afraid it is too late. You are as tall as Granny now."
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