Part 55 (2/2)

”I wish I was one of the people who want to do things,” she told him with a sort of wistful cynicism. ”But I don't. I have no story-book desires. I don't want to go and nurse lepers!--but I will, if you want me to,” she added with quick and touching simplicity.

Dr Lavendar smiled, and said that nursing lepers was too easy. He had suggested that she should live in a distant city;--he had agreed at once to her a.s.sertion that she could not stay in Old Chester. ”I know some nice people there,” he said; ”Ellen Bailey lives there, she's Ellen Spangler now. You've heard me speak of her? Spangler is a parson; he's a good fellow, but the Lord denied him brains to any great extent. But Ellen is the salt of the earth. And she can laugh.

You'll like her.”

”But what will I do when I get there?”

”I think Ellen may find something to keep you busy,” he said cheerfully; ”and, meantime, I'll make a suggestion myself: study Hebrew.”

”Hebrew!”

”Or Arabic; or Russian; it doesn't matter which, your mind needs exercise.”

”When you said Hebrew, I thought you meant so I could read the Bible.”

”Ho!” said Dr. Lavendar, ”I think King James's version is good enough for you; or anybody else. And I wouldn't want you to wait until you can read backwards, to read your Bible. No; I only meant that you need something to break your mind on. Hebrew is as good as anything else.”

She meditated on this for a while, ”I begin to understand,” she said with her hesitating smile; and Dr. Lavendar was mightily pleased, for he had not seen that smile of late.

Sometimes they talked about David, Mrs. Richie asking questions in a smothered voice; but she never begged for him. That part of her life was over. Dr. Lavendar sometimes brought the child with him when he and Goliath climbed the hill for that daily visit: but he always took him back again. Indeed, the Rectory was now definitely the little boy's home. Of course Old Chester knew that the Stuffed Animal House was to lose its tenant, and that David had gone to live with Dr.

Lavendar. ”I wonder why she doesn't take him with her?” said Old Chester; and called to say good-by and hint that Mrs. Richie must be sorry to leave the little boy behind her? Helena said briefly, yes, she was ”sorry.” And Old Chester went away no wiser than it came.

William King, wise and miserable, did not call. His wife said that she would say good-by for him, if he was too busy to go up the hill.

”It seems to me you've been very busy lately,” she told him; ”I've hardly had a glimpse of you. I only hope it will show on your bills.

It is very foolish, William, to take patients so far back in the country; I don't believe it pays, considering how much time it takes.

But I'll tell Mrs. Richie you send your respects, and say good-by for you.”

”You needn't mind,” said the doctor.

Mrs. King went to make her adieux the very next day. Her manner was so cordial that Helena was faintly surprised; but, as Martha told Dr.

Lavendar, cordiality did not mean the sacrifice of truth to any false idea of politeness.

”I didn't tell her I was sorry she was going,” Martha said, standing by the roadside in the chill November wind, talking into the buggy, ”because, to speak flatly and frankly, I am not. I don't consider that her example is very good for Old Chester, She is not a good housekeeper. I could tell you certain things--however, I won't, I never gossip. I just said, very kindly,' Good-by, Mrs. Richie. I hope you'll have a pleasant journey.' That was all. No insincere regrets.

That's one thing about me, Dr. Lavendar, I may not be perfect, but I never say anything, just to be pleasant!”

”I've noticed that,” said Dr. Lavendar; ”G'on, Goliath.”

And Martha, in great spirits, told her William at tea, that, though Dr. Lavendar was failing, she had to admit he could still see people's good qualities. ”I told him I hadn't put on any airs of regret about Mrs. Richie, and he said he had always noticed my frankness.”

William helped himself to gooseberry jam in silence.

”You do leave things so catacornered!” Martha observed, laying the thin silver spoon straight in the dish. ”William, I never knew anybody so incapable as that woman. I asked her how she had packed her preserves for moving. She said she hadn't made any! Think of that, for a housekeeper. Oh, and I found out about that perfumery, I just asked her. It's nothing but ground orris!”

William said he would like a cup of tea.

”I can't make her out,” Martha said, touching the teapot to make sure it was hot; ”I've always said she wasn't her brother's equal, mentally. But you do expect a woman to have certain feminine qualities, now the idea of adopting a child, and then deserting him!”

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