Part 10 (2/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration]
[Ill.u.s.tration]
CHAPTER VIII.
GONE.
And so time went on happily and swiftly. The summer days came and went, while Meg and her young husband worked cheerily at their allotted tasks.
Many a time did Meg visit the forlorn attic, carrying not only dainties for poor suffering d.i.c.kie, but cheer and suns.h.i.+ne for his devoted little sister. If Meg had discovered in Cherry traces of ”a disciple,” she did not fail to do her part in giving her many ”a cup of cold water.”
This she did in various ways, so tenderly and un.o.btrusively, as to be almost unnoticed by Cherry at the time. She brought her some soap and an old towel, and coaxed d.i.c.kie ”to feel how nice the warm water was,” and when his ablutions were done, to their joy he had a long sound sleep.
Cherry made up her mind she would try it again another day.
Then Meg begged a bowl without a handle, which her mother-in-law had done with as useless for was.h.i.+ng; this she carried round to Cherry and taught her to wash over her floor, so that if the old boards might not look white, they would at least be fresh. And once Meg put on her oldest dress and scrubbed the room from end to end. She also took home the old shawl one hot August day and returned it in the evening clean and sweet.
She was rewarded, if reward she needed, by Cherry's brightened face, and by d.i.c.kie's creeping off his mattress and up into her arms, where he would lie peacefully while she told him story after story of the little lamb who was lost on the mountains, and was sought by the Good Shepherd, until He carried it home rejoicing.
By-and-by d.i.c.kie began to run about the bare room with fresh energy; but as he began to revive, so Cherry seemed to get despondent. There was a look of alarm on her face which puzzled Meg; but the child would never give any explanation. She resolutely kept d.i.c.kie up-stairs, hus.h.i.+ng him from making any extra noise, and Meg heard her once whisper to him in a warning voice--
”d.i.c.kie, they'll know yer well again if yer don't mind; and then--I hope they've forgot you, d.i.c.kie, for a bit.”
He seemed to comprehend, and turned to the bits of toys and broken crockery which he called tea-things as contentedly as before.
”Is he ever naughty?” asked Meg softly.
Cherry nodded.
”What do you do then?”
”I talk to 'im, and tell 'im how sorry mother'd ha' been, and how sorry _He_ is,” reverently; ”and then he soon gets right again, and says he's 'good now.'”
One day when Meg went she found Cherry with an old hat on, and d.i.c.kie also with some apology for walking things.
”Are you going out, dear?” she asked, surprised, for Cherry's aversion to leave her room had been so great.
”We're goin' hopping,” answered the child. ”Father's goin' to take us; and I think it 'ull be the best thing for d.i.c.kie. He'll be able to run out in the air, and so--”
She placed in Meg's hand a p.a.w.n-ticket, as if she would perfectly understand.
”What is this, dear?”
”That's the blanket. I don't know no one as would keep it for us, and so I put it there. Here's the money, and you can get it out for me, if you will, when we come back. I'd ha' come to you about it, only I didn't rightly know where you lived.”
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