Part 3 (1/2)

CHAPTER III

A STRANGE BIRTHDAY

Late on the afternoon of that sad day the doctor, coming out of the oriel room, was met by little Christine. She had been watching for him on the stairs. It was his second visit since the morning, and his face was very grave; but its expression altered at once when he caught sight of Chrissie. Though Stern by name, he was very far from stern by nature, and he was very fond of the Ross children, whom he had known nearly all their lives. Besides, it is a doctor's business to cheer up people as much as possible, and he was touched by poor Chrissie's white face.

Never had the little girl spent such a miserable day, and thankful though she had been that her darling Ferdy's life had been spared, she was beginning to doubt if after all he _was_ going to get better. Her mother had scarcely left him for an instant; she had been busy arranging the room for him, or rather she had been sitting beside him holding his hand while she gave directions to the servants.

By the doctor's advice Ferdy's own little bed had been brought into the room, and he himself moved on to it, lifted upon the mattress as he lay; and it had, of course, been necessary to carry out some of the other furniture and rearrange things a little. This would not disturb Ferdy, Mr. Stern said, but Ferdy's head was now aching from the cut on his forehead, though it was not a very bad one, and he was tired and yet restless, and could not bear his mother to move away.

So there she sat, and Mr. Ross had gone off to Whittingham by a mid-day train, and no one had given much thought to poor Christine.

”My dear child,” said the doctor, ”how ill you look! Have you been wandering about by yourself all day?”

”Yes,” said Chrissie simply, her lip quivering as she spoke. ”There was nothing I could do to help, and they were all busy.”

”Where is Miss Lilly?” asked Mr. Stern.

”She wasn't coming to-day. We were to have a holiday. It--it is Ferdy's birthday, you know, and we were going to be so happy. _Oh_,” she cried, as if she could keep back the misery no longer, ”to think it is Ferdy's birthday!” and she burst again into deep though not loud sobbing.

Mr. Stern was very, very sorry for her.

”Dear Chrissie,” he said, ”you must not make yourself ill. In a day or two you will be wanted very much indeed, and you must be ready for it.

Your brother will want you nearly all day long.”

Chrissie's sobs stopped as if by magic, though they still caught her breath a little, and her face grew all pink and rosy.

”Will he, _will_ he?” she exclaimed. ”Do you mean that he is really going to get better? I thought--I thought--mamma kept shut up in the room, and n.o.body would tell me--do you really think he is going to get better soon?”

Mr. Stern took her hand and led her downstairs, and then into the library. There was no one there, but he closed the door.

”My dear child,” he said, ”I will tell you all I can,” for he knew that Christine was a sensible little girl, and he knew that anything was better than to have her working herself up more and more with miserable fears. ”I think Ferdy will be _better_ in a day or two, but we cannot say anything yet about his getting _well_. Your father has gone to Whittingham to see one of the best doctors, and ask him to come down here to-night or to-morrow to examine your brother, and after that we shall know more. But I am afraid it is very likely that he will have to stay in bed a long time, and if so, you know how much you can do to make the days pa.s.s pleasantly for him.”

Chrissie's eyes sparkled through the tears still there. ”I don't mind that,” she began. ”Of course I know it will be very dull and tiresome for him, but _nothing_ seems very bad compared with if he was going to--” she stopped short, and again she grew very white. ”Oh, you are _sure_ he isn't going to get worse?” she exclaimed. ”I do get so frightened every now and then when I think of how his face looked, and it was bleeding too.”

Mr. Stern patted her hand.

”You have not seen him since this morning?” he said.

Chrissie shook her head.

”Not since papa carried him in,” she replied.

”Would you like to see him very much?”

”Oh, _may_ I? I'll be very, very quiet and good. I'll bathe my eyes, so that he won't find out I've been crying, and I'll only stay a minute.”

”Run upstairs then and make yourself look as much as usual as you can. I will go back for a moment and tell Mrs. Ross I have given you leave to come in.”

Two minutes or so later Chrissie was tapping very softly at the door of the oriel room.