Читать книгу Billie Bradley and Her Classmates: or, The Secret of the Locked Tower - Wheeler Janet D. - Страница 6

It was the girls’ intention at first to leave the hamper of good things before the Haddons’ door so that Mrs. Haddon would have no chance of refusing the gift through pride.

But when they came to the little cottage after half an hour of steady walking, they found to their dismay that Fate had taken a hand and spoiled all their plans.

For Mrs. Haddon herself, a shawl over her head and looking even more worried and anxious than she had when they had seen her before, rounded the corner of the house and met them just as they reached the door.

For a moment the girls had a panicky impulse to drop the basket and run, but on second thought they decided that that would be just about the worst thing they could possibly do. And while they were trying to think up something to say, Mrs. Haddon took the whole situation entirely out of their hands.

At first she did not seem to recognize them, but the next instant her face lighted up with relief and she opened the door of the cottage, beckoning them to enter.

“Just stay here in the kitchen a minute where it’s warm,” she directed them in a strained tone, and before the girls had time to draw their breath she had disappeared from the room, leaving the classmates alone.

“Now we’ve gone and spilled the beans,” whispered slangy Laura, eyeing the blameless hamper disapprovingly as she warmed her chilled hands before the stove. “I don’t suppose she will touch a thing now, and after we went and walked all this way, and everything, too – ”

“Sh-h,” cautioned Billie, a hand to her lips. “She’s coming back.”

At that moment Mrs. Haddon did indeed come back into the kitchen. She closed the door very gently behind her and then came quickly toward the girls.

“Listen,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t know who sent you, just now. Maybe it was God.” She caught her breath on the words and the girls regarded her wonderingly and a little fearfully. For goodness’ sake! what was she talking about?

“Anyway, you’ve come,” went on the woman, swiftly. “And if you want to, you can do me a great favor.”

“What is it?” they asked together.

“Run for the nearest doctor, one of you – or all of you,” said the woman, her words stumbling over one another in her agitation. “Peter, my little boy, is sick. If I don’t have a doctor very soon, he may die.”

“Oh, where is the nearest doctor?” asked Billie, breathlessly, her eyes big with sympathy. “Tell me and I’ll go.”

“Half a mile down the road!” said the woman. “Dr. Ramsey! In the big white house! These are his office hours. He should be at home. I just went to a neighbor’s, but she was not at home and I could not go myself. Peter would have been alone – ”

“I’ll go, and I’ll have him back here in half an hour,” promised Billie, running to the door as she spoke. But Laura grabbed her skirt and held on to it.

“No, you stay here. I’ll go,” she said, thinking desperately of the food hamper and fearing that if Billie went for the doctor she would probably have to explain their mission.

“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Vi, with the same thought in mind, and before Billie could do more than blink, her two chums had flashed through the door, closing it with a sharp little click behind them. Then it opened again for an instant and Laura put her pretty head inside.

“You always could explain things so much better than the rest of us, Billie,” she said, by way of excuse, it is to be supposed – and then the door closed again.

It was good for Billie at that moment that she had been blessed with a sense of humor. Otherwise, she might have been a little put out.

As it was, she took it as a joke on her and turned back resignedly to her task of telling why they had come to proud Polly Haddon.

The latter was pacing the floor anxiously. Then, as a little moan came from the next room, she flew to the patient, leaving Billie entirely alone.

The latter regarded the hamper uncertainly for a moment, then, with a sigh, she lifted it from the floor to the rickety kitchen table.

“I’ll let her see all the good things first,” she decided wisely, as she removed the cover from the basket, exposing to view its inviting contents. “Then maybe she’ll be too busy looking at them to be angry.”

So busy was she that she did not hear Mrs. Haddon reënter the room. Neither did she know that the latter was staring unbelievingly over her shoulder till a slight exclamation of wonder made her start and whirl round suddenly.

“Where did you get all that?” asked the woman, her eyes still fixed on the contents of the basket. “And what is it for?”

“It’s – it’s for you – if you will take it, please,” stammered Billie, in her surprise and confusion saying what came first to her mind. “We – we thought maybe – maybe the kiddies would like the beef tea and milk and – and – things – ” she finished weakly, thinking resentfully that the girls, or one of them anyway, might have stayed and helped her out.

But after all, she need not have worried. For an instant the look that Billie had expected and dreaded flared into Polly Haddon’s eyes – a look of outraged pride. But then the woman thought of the children – and she had no pride.

“You said you brought some beef tea?” she repeated, bending eagerly over the basket. “And milk?”

“Two quarts of milk,” cried Billie, joyfully, the relief she felt singing in her voice. “And we made the beef tea fresh this morning. Why – why – what’s the matter?”

For Polly Haddon’s black eyes had filled with tears and she had turned away impatiently to hide them. Beneath the worn old shawl, her thin shoulders shook in an effort to suppress her hysterical sobs.

Then Billie ran to her and put her young arms around her and Polly Haddon, who had struggled so long and so bravely alone, clung to the girl hungrily while she fought for self-control.

“It’s so long!” she said huskily, “so long since any one did anything for us – for my babies – ” Her voice broke, and for a minute she just clung to Billie and let tears wash some of the bitterness from her heart. Then she straightened up suddenly, wiped the tears from her eyes with a handkerchief that Billie had slipped into her hand, and holding the girl off at arm’s length regarded her intently.

“It seems,” said the woman softly, while Billie looked up at her out of clear, grave eyes, “that when things get as bad as they can be the Lord sends somebody to help. This time he sent you. Hark! What’s that?”

It was only the restless turning of a feverish little body in bed, but the mother was instantly alert.

“The beef tea!” she directed, and Billie quickly handed her one of the bottles. “He has had hardly any real nourishment since day before yesterday,” Polly Haddon went on as she poured the liquid into one of the pans on the stove and sniffed of it hungrily. “Strong beef tea is just what the little fellow needs.”

Billie wondered while she watched Mrs. Haddon with pitying eyes. No nourishment for almost two days! Why, if they had not come the children might have starved to death!

“Where are the two little girls?” she asked, remembering suddenly that she had seen no sign of them.

Mrs. Haddon said nothing for so long that Billie began to think she had not heard her question. Then the woman turned and faced the girl, holding a steaming cup of beef broth in her hand.

“I’ve kept them in bed, too,” she said. “I was afraid they had caught cold, and then, too – one feels less hungry if one doesn’t move about.”

Then abruptly she turned and once more left the room. Billie would have followed, but the thought that perhaps Polly Haddon would not wish her to held her back. The woman had accepted the food for her children’s sake, because they were practically starving. But in spite of that she was very proud. Perhaps she would not wish to have Billie see the poverty-stricken bareness of the rooms beyond. So Billie stayed in the kitchen and waited.

Her eyes strayed nervously to an alarm clock that ticked away on a shelf over the sink. She wished the girls would come with the doctor. If little Peter was as sick as his mother thought he was, every minute might be precious. And besides that, they must get back to school.

Then she heard the girls’ voices mingled with the gruff tones of a man – the doctor, of course – and her heart jumped with relief. The next moment the door was flung open and Laura and Vi came in, followed by an immense man who seemed to completely fill the narrow doorway. Then Polly Haddon appeared in the doorway between the two rooms, an empty cup in her hand. At sight of the doctor she set down the cup and motioned him eagerly into the other room.

The latter glanced curiously at Billie, flung his hat on the kitchen table in passing, and disappeared with Mrs. Haddon into the sick room.

“Just luck that we happened to catch the doctor on his way out,” panted Laura, for the big man had hustled the girls back to the cottage on a run. “Say, Billie,” she added, her eyes lighting on the opened hamper, “I see you did the trick. Any bones broken?”

“Tell us about it,” begged Vi.

“I’ll tell you on the way home,” said Billie, her eye once more on the clock. “Miss Walters told us not to stay long, you know. We were to come right back.”

“Gracious, look at the time!” cried Laura, in consternation, following Billie’s eyes to the clock. “Miss Walters will think we have eloped.”

“I wish we could wait and see what the doctor says,” protested Vi, hanging back, and just then Billie raised a warning finger.

“Listen,” she said.

The doctor had raised his voice for a moment and his words came clearly to the girls where they stood near the door.

“The boy is very sick, Mrs. Haddon,” he said. “It will take good nursing to pull him through and plenty of nourishing food.” He lowered his voice again and the rest of what he said was lost in a meaningless murmur.

In the kitchen the girls stared at each other.

“Plenty of nourishing food,” whispered Billie. “Where is he going to get it?”

“I guess,” said Laura, as she opened the door, “it is up to us!”