Part 13 (1/2)
”Susanna would cut off her hand if you asked it; but I know she has more than usual to do this morning, and we agreed the shop was to be our part. I am not in the least tired. Please, Marion!” Norah stood between her and the door.
”Very well. I shall attend to it myself,” and Marion swept by her.
”O dear!” sighed Norah, ”I feel like a tyrant; but she must not give up.”
Marion returned presently and began was.h.i.+ng the palms and clipping away the dead leaves. She worked listlessly, her face wore an expression of deep melancholy.
A diversion was created by the entrance of James Mandeville. He had been kept in several days by a cold, and the joy of release radiated from his small person.
”Mammy says she reckons the sun's going to s.h.i.+ne by and by, so she let me come,” he announced.
”Mammy and I are of the same opinion, then,” said Norah, helping him off with his coat. ”Can't you think of something to cheer Miss Marion?
She is very tired of this rainy weather.”
”I'll sing her a song, that's what I'll do,” James Mandeville cried eagerly. ”You wait.”
He disappeared into the next room, where presently his voice was heard uplifted in ”Onward, Christian Soldiers,” and if the tune was a trifle uncertain, nothing was lacking in spirit. Through the open door he marched, holding the morning paper before him, and proceeding the length of the shop.
”One in hope of _doctor_, one in _cherry tree_,”
he proclaimed l.u.s.tily.
Even Marion must smile a little at this.
”It is beautiful,” said Norah, ”though I don't quite understand it. I seem to feel a sort of connection between the doctor and the cherry tree, too.”
”There's a heap more of verses,” James Mandeville a.s.sured her. ”Do you feel better?” This to Marion.
Who could resist? She laughed as she drew him to her and kissed him.
”I am cross this morning, and you are a nice boy to sing for me. I make life very hard for Miss Norah. Suppose you go tell her I am sorry.”
James Mandeville trotted off obediently to find Norah, who had left the room a moment before. Marion, having finished with the plants, was absently looking out of the window when the door opened with a jerk and some one bounced into the shop. Turning with a start, she recognized the personage Norah called Giant Despair.
”What do you mean?--” he began, then paused and stared about in bewilderment. ”Where am I?” he demanded; and as Marion advanced he removed his hat, displaying a ma.s.sive head covered with s.h.a.ggy gray hair.
”We call this the Pleasant Street Shop,” she answered.
”See here--I thought it was the plumber's. I am getting so blind I shall soon have to be led around. So you call this a shop? Does it belong to you? For I can tell you now you have made a mistake in coming here.” His voice was gruff, and as he spoke he peered this way and that, as if to get some idea of his surroundings.
”If we can't make a success here, we will go elsewhere, but we are doing very well,” Marion said, ”The plumber is on the next block.”
”I know that now. I am not losing my mind as well as my sight.”
Something impelled Marion to say, ”I am sorry about your eyes. Can't something be done?”
”Sorry? How can you be sorry? n.o.body knows anything about it who hasn't tried it.”
”I have lived in constant fear of blindness for a year.” Marion seldom spoke of her eyes, but the sight of trouble like her own broke down her usual reticence.