Part 17 (1/2)

This time the entire board smiled back at her; somehow, in some strange way, it had caught a breath of Fancy. And then--the House Surgeon re-entered with Bridget in his arms, looking very scared until she spied ”Miss Peggie.”

The President did the nicest thing, proving himself the good man he really was. He crossed hands with the House Surgeon, thereby making a swinging chair for Bridget, and together they held her while Margaret MacLean explained:

”It's this way, dear. Some one has offered you--and all the children--a home in the country--a home of your very own. But the trustees of Saint Margaret's hardly want to give you up; they think they can take as good care of you--and make you just as happy here.”

”But--sure--they'll have to be givin' us up. Weren't we afther givin'

a penny to the wee one yondther for the home?” and Bridget pointed a commanding finger toward the door.

Everybody looked. There on the threshold stood the widow of the Richest Trustee.

”What do you mean, dear? How could you have given her a penny?”

Margaret MacLean asked it in bewilderment.

”'Twas all the doin's o' the primrose ring.” And then Bridget shouted gaily across to the gray wisp of a woman. ”Ye tell them. Weren't ye afther givin' us the promise of a home?”

”And haven't I come to keep the promise?” she answered, as gaily. But in an instant she sobered as her eyes fell on the open letter on the President's desk. ”I am so sorry I wrote it--that is why I have come; not that I don't think you deserved it, for you do,” and the widow of the Richest Trustee looked at them unwaveringly.

If she was conscious of the surprised faces about, she gave no sign for others to reckon by. Instead, she walked the length of the board-room to the President's desk and went on speaking hurriedly, as if she feared to be interrupted before she had said all she had come to say.

”I wish I had written in another way, a more helpful way. Why not add your second surgical ward to Saint Margaret's and do all the good work you can, as you had planned? Only let me have these children to start a home which shall be a future harbor for all the cases you cannot mend with your science and which you ought not to set adrift. You can send me all the convalescing children, too, who need country air and building up. In return for this, and because you deserve to be punished--just a little--for yesterday--I shall try my best to take with me Margaret MacLean and your House Surgeon.”

She laid a hand on both, while she added, softly: ”Suppose we three go home together and talk things over. Shall we?”

So the ”Home for Curables” has come true. It crests a hilltop, and is well worth the penny that Bridget gave for it. As the children specified, there are no ”trusters”; and it has all the modern improvements, including Margaret MacLean, who is still ”Miss Peggie,”