Part 93 (1/2)
”Oh Dr. Lucy!” gasped poor Mirabella, whose aspect was that of a small boy in an August orchard. ”Don't leave me! Oh do something for me quick!”
”Will you do just what I say?”
”I will! I will; I'll do _anything_!” said Mirabella, curling up in as small a heap as was possible to her proportions, and Dr. Lucy took the case.
We waited in the big bald parlors till she came down to tell us what was wrong. Emma seemed very anxious, but then Emma is a preternatural saint.
Arabella came home and made a great todo. ”So fortunate that she was near my door!” she said. ”Oh my poor sister! I am so glad she has a real doctor!”
The real doctor came down after a while. ”She is practically out of pain,” she said, ”and resting quietly. But she is extremely weak, and ought not to be moved for a long time.”
”She shall not be!” said Arabella fervently. ”My own sister! I am so thankful she came to me in her hour of need!”
I took Emma away. ”Let's pick up Mrs. Montrose,” I said. ”She's tired out with packing--the air will do her good.”
She was glad to come. We all sat back comfortably in the big seat and had a fine ride; and then Mrs. Montrose had us both come in and take dinner with her. Emma ate better than I'd seen her in months, and before she went home it was settled that she leave with Mrs. Montrose on Tuesday.
Dear Emma! She was as pleased as a child. I ran about with her, doing a little shopping. ”Don't bother with anything,” I said, ”You can get things out there. Maybe you'll go on to j.a.pan next spring with the James's.”
”If we could sell the house I would!” said Emma. She brisked and sparkled--the years fell off from her--she started off looking fairly girlish in her hope and enthusiasm.
I drew a long sigh of relief.
Mr. MacAvelly has some real estate interests.
The house was sold before Mirabella was out of bed.
SHARES
To those who in leisure may meet Comes Summer, green, fragrant and fair, With roses and stars in her hair; Summer, as motherhood sweet.
To us, in the waste of the street, No Summer, only--The Heat!
To those of the fortunate fold Comes Winter, snow-clean and ice-bright, With joy for the day and the night, Winter, as fatherhood bold.
To us, without silver or gold, No Winter, only--The Cold!
GENIUS, DOMESTIC AND MATERNAL. II.
Consider the mighty influence of Dr. Arnold, of Emma Willard; and think of that all lost to the world, and concentrated relentlessly on a few little Arnolds and Willards alone!
The children of such genius can healthfully share in its benefits but not healthily monopolize them.
Our appreciation of this study is hampered by the limitation of little exercised minds. Most of us accept things as they are--cannot easily imagine them different, and fear any change as evil.
There was a time when there wasn't a school or a schoolhouse on earth; people may yet be found who see no need of them. To build places for children to spend part of the day in--away from their mothers--and be cared for by specialists!--Horrible!
The same feeling meets us now when it is suggested that places should be built for the babies to spend part of the day in--away from their mothers--and be cared for by specialists!--Horrible! Up hops in every mind those twin bugaboos, the Infant Hospital and the Orphan Asylum.