Part 25 (1/2)

”Then why do yer mind, mo'ver-Meg?”

”Because he's gone away from _me_, d.i.c.kie. But I shan't be sorry soon.”

”And fa'ver-Jem said as He'd sent me _instead_,” said d.i.c.kie comfortably, ”and so that's nice for ev'wybody.”

Meg smiled, though she almost cried again.

”Yes, d.i.c.kie,” she answered, ”and I'm not sorry for that part of it. I'm sure our Father in heaven knows best, and will make me glad in time that He has taken my little baby.”

d.i.c.kie laid his soft cheek against her face, and then Meg saw her mother-in-law coming in with a little tray in her hand.

”Look, d.i.c.kie,” she said; ”here is a kind mother with some gruel or something for us. Why, here are two basins! How kind she is. Can you open your eyes now, d.i.c.kie?”

He tried, but quickly put up his hand to s.h.i.+eld them from the light.

”How bad they are!” remarked Mrs. Seymour. ”Meg, did Jem say what they did to him?”

”No,” answered Meg, shuddering. ”He said it was so dreadful, yet so easy that he should never tell it, lest any one else should be so cruel.”

”How strange!” said Mrs. Seymour.

”Did the doctor say this morning that they should be tied up?” asked Meg.

”No; only bathed often. He said while he kept them shut of his own accord it was better not to hara.s.s him with a bandage. He looked very serious over it, Meg.”

Meg did not answer. She was stroking the little face tenderly, and smoothing the soft brown curls.

”Poor little man,” she whispered at length.

Mrs. Seymour fed the child with a spoon, and just as she had finished a knock came at the sitting-room door, which she went to answer.

Meg guessed what it was, but she lay quiet, her thoughts dwelling on what d.i.c.kie had suggested--that the Home above was better than this.

Mrs. Seymour did not return for some time, nor indeed till the steps of Jem and Cherry were heard coming back from the hospital. She went outside to meet them, telling Cherry to go up-stairs, and preparing Jem by a low word for what he would find in his room when he entered.

Though he knew it would be so, the little coffin having been promised at seven o'clock, yet it was a shock to him after all; and he was glad that his kind mother had let him go alone into the room, that he might have time to get over his feelings.

Mrs. Seymour, finding that Meg was quiet, and even cheerful, went up-stairs to look after Cherry, and to see if her invalid lodger should want anything. She found the poor child sitting near the fire, looking very mournful; and guessing at once that she had lost her father, she went up to her and kissed her kindly, saying--

”You must tell me all about it presently, dear child. Just now I want you to help me as nicely as you did this morning.”

Cherry looked up, greatly relieved to be set to work at something.

”What can I do?” she asked.

”Let us get the bath ready for d.i.c.kie again, and then you go down and fetch him, Cherry. Wrap this about him. He is awake; but I shall bathe him up here, for I think Meg has had enough excitement.”

Cherry quickly understood, and in a few minutes all was ready, and she was standing by Meg's side asking d.i.c.kie if he would not like another warm bath.

”I'd rather stay 'ere,” said d.i.c.kie; ”but you'll let me come back, Cherry?”