Part 4 (2/2)
”I'll soon be home, my girl; you go on without me.”
”Shan't I come too?” asked Meg.
”If you'd like to, my dear; but it ain't a nice place.”
It was by this time getting dusk between the high houses, and Meg followed her husband in silence. It was the first time she had ever been into any crowded abode. A country cottage was the only experience she had had.
Jem led the way up the dark and rickety stairs to the very top, and then stooped his head under a low doorway.
The room was close under the roof, open to the tiles, and was very bare, but neat and orderly. On a mattress in the corner lay the little sufferer, while by him sat his crippled sister, nearly as pale and thin as he.
”My child,” said Jem in a kind voice, addressing her, ”do you think if I brought you a blanket you could keep it from being stolen?”
The child looked up suddenly. A face, with all its want and suffering, on which something indescribable was written. Jem did not a.n.a.lyze it, but he felt it.
”I think so,” she answered. ”I know a place outside up under the roof where I could hide it away if I go out. That's what I have to do with most things as it is.”
Meg seated herself on the box by the child's side and looked down on his little face. She put his wavy hair back from his forehead and said tenderly--
”Poor little dear, you have a bad cough!”
”Yes,” said the child; ”me cough all de time.”
”Yes,” pursued his sister. ”d.i.c.kie's been bad this five weeks, and if it hadn't been for father having a bit of work, and bringin' home a little for once, he'd ha' died.”
d.i.c.kie did not seem to mind being thus spoken of, but he turned his head wearily away, as if it were too much trouble to think.
”I like bein' ill,” he whispered, as Meg bent over him.
”Like it, dear?” she questioned, thinking she had not heard aright.
He nodded ever so slightly, and then added in a little determined voice--
”'Cause then they don't _hurt_ me no more.”
Meg would have asked for an explanation, but Jem was unfolding the blanket, and the girl was absorbed in wonder at its comfort and whiteness.
”d.i.c.kie, look!” she exclaimed in a low joyful tone.
But the child was too ill to be interested. He did not turn his head again, and Cherry said, with all the life gone out of her eyes, which had so quickly lighted up at sight of the blanket--
”That's how he is most times. Sometimes I wish he was safely in heaven with mother.”
Jem put his hand gently on the girl's arm.
”Ah, my dear, that's how we feel when we're sad; but if we understand that G.o.d loves us, we'll be willing to wait, so as we may do His will.”
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