Part 12 (2/2)

Joan grew quite excited when she saw the donkey and cart, but when she heard of the accident, and the trouble they were all in, she wept for sympathy.

”Oh, mummy,” she cried, ”we must do something to help!” and Mrs. Adamson, who had been listening intently to the tale of trouble, decided that one of the best ways of helping would be by buying as much as she could of what they brought in to sell each week. So of eggs and vegetables, fruit and flowers, she laid in quite a store, and the children went on their way in high spirits. Just before they left, Joan called her mother aside for a whispered consultation.

”Mummy, darling, do let me send the poor man one of my bottles of eau-de-Cologne. If his head aches, he will be so glad of it; shall I?”

”Certainly, darling, and when he is better we will send him some magazines. Shall we?”

In a state of great delight Joan handed over the eau-de-Cologne to Bella.

”But we will have the cork drawn first, for he might be glad to use it at once, and I'll leave the dear little corkscrew in. He'll like to have that, won't he?”

”Oh yes, miss,” said Bella gratefully; ”he's never seen one like that before. Thank you, miss, I'll tell him you sent it.”

Then Joan had to be carried to the window to look at Rocket and the cart, and see Tom and Bella start on again. ”Do you think you will ever sell all you've got there?” she asked, with wondering eyes.

”Yes, I think so. I hope so, miss. I've got a good many regular customers now, and p'raps we shall get some more. We're going to try it for a week or two, anyway, just to see.”

Tom's courage was certainly rewarded, for long before the hour when visiting-time at the hospital began, they had sold out all they had brought, and were able to take good, patient Rocket to the stable and his dinner. They had not counted up their takings yet, but Bella felt sure that there was close on a sovereign in her purse; and they had besides an order for half a sack of potatoes, a bushel of cooking apples, and a pair of fowls. They scarcely knew what to do, they were so delighted.

”Oh, Tom, won't father be glad!” Bella kept on saying; ”and won't he be surprised when he hears about Rocket! He'll think we are getting on fine, and won't he be pleased about it!”

”It'll help to get him better, I reckon,” said Tom, with quiet delight.

Tom both felt and acted as though he were ten years older than when he was in Norton, a week ago. The shock and the responsibility, acting on his thoughtful, steady nature, had changed him from a boy to a man. Not a sad or too serious man, yet one who felt that he had to act now, not to play; to think out what was for the best, and to do it, and not let things slide, or take their chance, and he took up his responsibilities with a brave and cheerful spirit. There was no self-pity about Tom; it never entered his head to think he was ill-used or hard-worked.

”'Tisn't any hards.h.i.+p, ma'am,” he said brightly, when Mrs. Adamson condoled with them on all they had to do, now they were left alone.

”I like work better than play. You feel then that you'm doing something.

I get tired of play. I like a game of cricket or football, but I mean the other sort of play.”

Bella, who remembered only too well the dull, miserable years when Aunt Emma did not like her to play, and would not let her work, agreed with Tom heartily. ”Yes, I like work better than play too,” she said emphatically.

”I think it's fine to have a lot to do. There isn't anything makes you so miserable as doing nothing.”

From two to four were the visitors' hours at the hospital, and long before that hour had struck Tom and Bella were waiting anxiously for the doors of the hospital to open. There was quite a little crowd of people besides themselves, and every one had some little luxury they were taking to the poor invalids inside. Tom and Bella had fresh eggs and flowers, and, best of all, the good news of their success that day. They had actually earned a whole sovereign and threepence!

To poor William Hender this was good news indeed, for it meant that his dear ones were not in want--at any rate for the present--and the knowledge lifted a heavy load from his mind. ”Thank G.o.d for sending me such help in my trouble,” he murmured gratefully. ”I am blessed with good children, and no mistake!”

But Bella's happiness had almost vanished at the sight of the poor pale face on the pillow, and the weak hands that he could scarcely raise.

She had, somehow, expected to see her father much better and more like himself, but he looked so dreadfully, dreadfully ill and altered that an awful fear swept over her and gripped her with an icy clutch.

In her anxiety she forgot her shyness, and went boldly up to one of the nurses, who was standing a little way off. ”Do you think father is really better, miss?” she asked timidly, while every nerve quivered with dread of the answer.

”He is getting on,” the nurse answered cautiously. ”It will be a long time before he will be well, of course. You mustn't expect to see much difference for a good while yet.”

”You do think he will get well? You don't think he is--is----” Bella could not finish her question, her lips quivered so. The nurse, who was not supposed to talk about the patients to their friends, could not refuse those frightened pleading eyes.

”Oh no, no! you mustn't be thinking of such a thing. He is going to get well presently, and you will have him home for Christmas. What you have to do is to keep his spirits up, and cheer him all you can, and the doctor will cure him, and we will take care of him and send him home in time to eat his Christmas dinner.”

Bella smiled through her tears, and with the worst fear lifted from her heart she turned to her father again. Till four o'clock they sat by him and talked, and he listened contentedly. He was anxious to hear every little detail of all they had been doing at home. He was too weak to talk much, but he joined in now and then, and laughed a lot at the funny things they told him. He was very much pleased when he heard about Rocket.

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