Part 142 (1/2)
”Oh, no, sir. I have not a great deal of business. What may I do, Dr. Sandford?”
”Can you go to Crum Elbow?”
”Yes, sir. I have got to go there.”
”All right, then. Daisy, there is a poor family down by the railway that were burnt out a night or two ago; they have lost everything. The neighbours will have to supply them with a few things. Will you go to the village and buy clothing for two little children, six and seven years old? One is a girl, the other a boy.”
The doctor took out his pocket-book and began to look over bank bills.
”Dresses, do you mean, Dr. Sandford? ? and a boy's dress?”
”I mean, everything they need to put on ? dresses and petticoats, and jacket and trousers, and a s.h.i.+rt or two for the boy. Here is money, Daisy; spend whatever you find needful.”
”But, Dr. Sandford ?”
”Well?”
”I don't believe Mr. Lamb keeps those things ready made.”
”I am sure he does not. Buy the stuff, Daisy ? all the stuff ?
we will see about getting it made afterwards. You can consult my sister, Mrs. Sandford, about quant.i.ties and all that; or I dare say the storekeeper can tell you.”
So away went the doctor. Daisy felt in great need of consulting somebody; but Mrs. Sandford was busy, and so engaged that there was no chance for several hours. ? Not indeed before the pony chaise came; and Daisy resolved then to wait no longer, but to do some other business first.
The news that she eagerly asked for from Melbourne was not much when she got it. Sam knew little; he believed Mr.
Randolph was better, he said; but his tone of voice was not very encouraging, and Daisy drove off to Juanita's cottage.
There was one person, she knew, who could feel with her; and she went with a sort of eagerness up the gra.s.sy pathway from the road to the cottage door, to get that sympathy.
Juanita was within, busy at some ironing. The work fell from her hands, and the iron was set down with an expression of pleasure as she saw Daisy come in. The next minute her tone changed and her look.
”What ails my love?”
”Juanita ?” said Daisy, standing still and pale by the ironing table, ? ”haven't you heard? Papa ?”
”What, Miss Daisy?”
”Papa ? he was knocked off his horse yesterday ? and they won't let me see _him!_”
So far Daisy's power of composure went, and no further. With that last word her voice failed. She threw her arms around Juanita, and hiding her face in her gown, burst into such tears as Daisy rarely shed at all; very rarely under any one's observation. Juanita, very much startled, sat down and drew the child into her arms, so far as she could; for Daisy had sunk on her knees, and with her face in Juanita's lap was weeping all her heart out. Mrs. Benoit hardly knew how to ask questions.
”Why must not Miss Daisy see her papa?”
”I don't know! ? I suppose ? he's not well enough.”
Juanita breathed more freely.
”Let us pray for him, Miss Daisy.”
”Oh, yes, Juanita, do! ?”
There was an intensity of meaning in these words and in Daisy's hurried a.s.suming of another place and posture to leave Juanita free to kneel too, that almost took away the black woman's power of speech. She read what was breaking the child's heart; she knew what for was that suppressed cry of longing. For a moment Juanita was silent. But she had long known not only trouble but the Refuge from trouble; and to that Refuge she now went, and carried Daisy. As one goes who has often been there; who has many a time proved it a sure Refuge; who knows it sure and safe and unfailing. So she prayed; while Daisy's sobs at first were excessive, and then by degrees calmed and quieted and ceased. They were quite still before Juanita finished; and when they rose up from their knees Daisy's face was composed again. Then she came and stood with her hand on Juanita's shoulder, both of them silent; till Daisy put her lips to the fine olive-dark cheek of the old woman and kissed it. Juanita drew her into her arms, and Daisy sat there, nestling and tired.