Brentwood

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “But we have another patient in here,” said Marjorie. “I think you’d better look at her before you go. I’ve done all I know how to do, but her temperature seems to be going up in spite of it.”

  She led the way to the couch.

  “We put her down here so we wouldn’t disturb Mother,” she explained.

  The doctor bent over the little girl, touched the hot forehead, the limp wrist, counting the pulse, then he straightened up, asked a few keen questions, and called for glasses of water and teaspoons.

  “I’ll get them,” said Ted, and hurried to the kitchen, terribly glad that the teaspoons were back from the pawn shop.

  Betty came downstairs while the doctor was giving directions. She stood by the doorway looking anxiously at the little sick sister.

  “I don’t anticipate anything serious,” said the doctor with a smile toward Betty and another at Marjorie. “Her fever may go up a trifle until midnight, but there’s nothing to be alarmed about. Give the medicine regularly, and I think you’ll see the fever go down before morning. Thanks to your prompt treatment, I think the worst is over. It’s her stomach, of course. Children will eat all sorts of things, you know. It looks like a light case of food poisoning, but I think she’ll come out all right.”

  Betty and Marjorie exchanged glances, and then Betty spoke up, telling about the “hot-dogs-that-were-cold,” that Sunny had said Bonnie had eaten. Betty’s face was crimson with shame lest the doctor would wonder why a child would be so hungry that she would pick up cast-out food, but the doctor took it in a very matter-of-fact way, twinkling his nice kind brown eyes at Betty, and grinning.

  “The little reprobate!” he said, patting Bonnie’s thin little hand. “Isn’t it a wonder that any of us survive? My mother used to tell a tale of finding me at the age of two seated on the back steps devouring the skins of baked potatoes that I had snitched out of the garbage pail! Well, we all have to learn by the hardest. I remember I got a very effectual spanking before I learned my lesson. I guess she’ll be all right. Give her medicine every hour and orange juice if she wants it. Nothing else. I’ll come in the first thing in the morning and see how you girls are getting on. You look young to run a hospital, but I guess you’ll make a go of it.”

  There was sudden dismay in Betty’s face as the doctor opened the door, and perhaps he saw it, for he reached over and patted her shoulder before he put on his gloves.

  “Don’t you worry,” he said comfortingly, “everybody’s going to be all right. They’ll all be decidedly better in the morning, I’m sure.”

  Betty looked up and met his eyes wistfully, and Marjorie saw the glance and thought what nice eyes the doctor had. Nice brown eyes.

  Chapter 7

  When the doctor was gone, Betty turned to her new sister.

  “You ought to go now,” she said sharply. “It’s getting dark, and you ought to go back to your hotel. You can’t stay here tonight in a mess like this.”

  Marjorie looked at her sister with a startled glance. Was Betty anxious to get her away?

  “Oh, my dear!” she said, aghast. “You don’t think a mess like this is any worse for me than it is for you, do you?”

  “You’re not used to it,” said Betty sullenly. “I can manage. And you’ve done a lot. You ought to get a good night’s rest and not be burdened with things that don’t belong to you.”

  “But they do belong to me!” said Marjorie. “It’s my father and mother who are sick upstairs, isn’t it? The father and mother God gave to me as much as to you? And it’s my little sister who is sick down here! And how could you possibly think you could manage alone? You are half sick yourself. And even if Ted helped you, he is just about ready to drop. You know you are all weakened with cold and hunger and anxiety. Please, my dear, don’t shove me out! After everybody is well, I’ll go away and give you a chance to talk it all over, and if you decide you don’t want me, I won’t trouble you anymore. But I couldn’t leave you now. I haven’t even seen my mother yet.”

  There was a sob in her voice that went to Betty’s heart.

  “I didn’t mean that!” she said almost fiercely. “I don’t want you to go. Goodness knows how I’ll get along if you do, but I’ll do it, somehow, or die in the attempt. But—well, how could you stay here? The only bed there is for you would be my mattress on the floor upstairs, and Father’s asleep there. Maybe he’ll wake up after a while, but I don’t think I ought to disturb him till he does, do you?”

  “Certainly not,” said Marjorie, “and in any case I would want to stay beside Bonnie—that is, if you would let me, tonight, and you get some sleep. You look sick yourself. But where were you planning to sleep yourself, even if I weren’t here?”

  “I hadn’t planned,” said Betty with a toss of her head and a weary sigh. “I can sleep anywhere if I get a chance. The floor is plenty good enough for me. I could sleep down in the cellar if I had to.”

  “I haven’t a doubt that you could,” said Marjorie seriously. “Anybody probably could, if they were tired enough. But it wouldn’t be good for you, even if you could. As for me, I’m quite rested. I haven’t done anything for the last four or five weeks. I certainly can stand more hardship than you can. You look as if you were ready to drop. I fully realize that you have nerve enough to keep you going if you were dead on your feet, but I don’t intend you shall. Not unless you would rather have me get a trained nurse! Or unless you deliberately turn me out of the house. Of course, I know I haven’t any right here at all. I haven’t a right to say what you shall do or shall not, unless you give it to me. But I wish you would understand that I want to help and make things as easy for you as I can.

  “Now, suppose we put aside hostilities and talk it over quietly together, find out what is best to be done. I had thought that perhaps you would trust me to look after Bonnie tonight and let you get a good rest. She is the only one of the sick who seems to be in a condition that won’t be hurt by the presence of a stranger. I thought perhaps Ted could put her little bed in here, where if she woke she wouldn’t make any noise upstairs to disturb the others, and I would just lie down here on the couch beside her and keep watch. Then you could get a good sleep, for you certainly need it. It wouldn’t hurt me in the least, for I’m used to night nursing. I did it for several weeks at a time while Moth—while Mrs. Wetherill was so sick. But, you see, what I didn’t realize was that there wouldn’t be a good comfortable bed for you. You know I haven’t been upstairs. It isn’t my fault that I didn’t know that. I was only trying to plan to have you comfortable.”

  “Well, and I was planning to have you comfortable for the night when I suggested you go back to your hotel,” said Betty with an apology in her voice. “I didn’t mean to be disagreeable. I was just worried.”

  “Well, there, let’s sit down in the dining room and talk it over. There is surely something we can do to make us all comfortable for the night. Where does Sunny sleep?”

  “He sleeps in the room with Ted and Bud. He has a little crib. Why, where is Sunny? Ted didn’t take him with him, did he? Where did Ted go, anyway? Do you know?”

  “He said something about going back for another load. But I don’t think Sunny went with him. At least, if he did, Ted didn’t know it. Bud went along, but I didn’t see Sunny anywhere. He was eating bread and jelly the last I saw of him. Maybe he’s in the kitchen.”

  The girls hurried into the kitchen, but Sunny was not there. Betty swung open the back door and called softly, fearing to waken the sleepers upstairs, and then rushed out into the little side yard, calling.

  “He isn’t anywhere!” said Betty, coming back with terror in her eyes, “and it’s awfully dark and cold. And he didn’t have his coat on, either. Now he’ll be sick, I suppose. And where shall I look for him? I guess I’ll have to go to the police station. He might be lost or kidnapped or something.”

  But Marjorie suddenly swung open the pantry door and switched on the light, and there lay Sunny on the floor in a corner, with a tin c
an of graham crackers clasped in his arms, crumbs all over his baby face, sound asleep, a half-eaten sugar cookie in one hand, dead to the world!

  The girls sat down and laughed till they cried.

  “What shall we do with him?” asked Marjorie, suddenly sobering.

  “Leave him there for the present,” said Betty. “I’ll get Father’s old coat and put it under his head. If we wake him up he may cry, and we haven’t any other place to put him, not till his crib is up. He probably won’t sleep long, anyway. I wonder where Ted is.”

  “Couldn’t we put up the crib?” asked Marjorie, looking at the unassembled parts that stood against the dining room wall.

  “Perhaps we could,” said Betty. “I never tried. Father always did things like that. This is the headboard. And those are the sides.”

  Marjorie got down on her knees and examined the side pieces.

  “These must hook into those sockets in the headboard,” she said briskly. “You hold the headboard, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You ought not to be doing that,” said Betty, coming forward and setting up the headboard of the crib. “You’ll get your pretty dress all dusty.”

  “It will clean,” said Marjorie indifferently. “There, see how easily that slides into place. Now, the other. Why, this is no trouble at all. Now, which is the head of these springs?”

  They had it all together when Ted came in carrying a heavy load. Putting it down, he began to open it out, and it proved to be an army cot.

  “Where in the world did you get that?” asked Betty, wide-eyed.

  “Over at the Army and Navy store,” said Ted. “Bought it. Fifty cents. They were having a sale. I knew we hadta have something.”

  “For pity’s sake!” said Betty, eying Ted in astonishment. “Where did you get the fifty cents? Not out of what I gave you to pay the grocery bill, Ted Gay?”

  “No. Guess again!” grinned Ted, and he hauled the roll of bills out of his pocket that Marjorie had given him and grinned at her.

  Betty looked from one to the other understandingly. Then she said to Marjorie, “If you stay here another day, we’ll have you fleeced.”

  “Suits me,” said Marjorie with another grin. “Now, where is that Sunny boy? Will he howl if I pick him up?”

  “Go get him, Ted,” said Betty. “He’s asleep in the pantry.”

  “Good night!” said Ted, standing in the pantry door, laughing. “Where’d he get all the grub? Poor little kid, he’s been half starved for days!”

  Ted put Sunny in the crib and then turned to the girls.

  “Now, what do you want done first?”

  Betty looked at her new sister.

  “I’ll get dinner,” she said, “and you show Ted where you want Bonnie’s bed put.”

  “I thought you girls could have my room,” said Ted, “and Bud can have the cot, and I’ll park beside Dad.”

  “That will be fine for Betty tonight,” said Marjorie, “but as for me, I’m going to watch Bonnie and lie down on the couch between times.”

  “You think she ought to do that, Betts?” asked Ted. “She isn’t usedta roughing it.”

  “Indeed I am,” laughed Marjorie. “At least, I’m used to being up nights and caring for sick folks.”

  “Well, she wants to,” said Betty with a troubled sigh, “and I’m sure I wouldn’t be much good at nursing. For Bonnie’s sake, I guess we’ve got to let her have her way.”

  “Okay!” said Ted. “Well, where do we go from here? What do I do next? Peel potatoes or what?”

  “We’re not going to peel the potatoes,” said Betty. “We’re roasting them. You can light the oven. We’re not doing any fancy cooking, just beefsteak and potatoes and a can of tomatoes. You can open the can. I’ll do the rest.”

  “All right,” said Marjorie. “I’ll cut the bread and get the butter and pickles and wash some celery. Open a glass of currant jelly, too, Ted. That will be for dessert.”

  Dinner was ready in a surprisingly short time, and the starved young appetites were ready, too.

  Bonnie was still sleeping, and Marjorie fancied that she was not quite so hot as an hour ago.

  They were just about to sit down when Sunny woke up, making an outcry. He had to be hushed and brought into the kitchen to quiet him.

  Then Bud burst in, eyes wide with wonder at the unusual dinner.

  “Gee! Where’d’ya get the meat! Real meat! Can I have a piece, too, or do we have ta save it for Mother ’cause she’s sick?”

  “No, you don’t have to save it,” said Marjorie, “there’s plenty for everybody. Mother couldn’t eat meat tonight anyway, but maybe she can have some soon.”

  Marjorie went out to the kitchen to get Bud his glass of milk while Ted attacked the big beefsteak with the carving knife, which had just been recovered from the pawn shop.

  “It’s almost too pretty to cut, isn’t it?” he said. And then he heard a step behind him. They all turned, and there stood their father, staring at them all in wonder and sniffing the air.

  “I smelled something so heavenly,” he said, and he smiled a tired little smile that made him look like Bud. “Where did you get the meat, Ted?” he asked, his eyes resting on the laden table. “It appears that you are having a feast. Did you succeed in getting any subscriptions, lad? They surely didn’t pay you enough commission on a few subscriptions to buy all this?”

  “Sit down, Dad,” said Ted, laying down the knife and springing up to draw up a chair for his father. “You aren’t fit to stand up.”

  “Oh, I’m all right,” he said, passing a hand over his forehead. “I just had a little dizzy spell, but Betty gave me some coffee, and I had a good sleep and feel better. I thought I’d go out and see if I couldn’t get an evening’s work. It might bring in a few cents and help to buy another bag of coal. You know some of the stores are keeping open evenings until Christmas, and they need extra help. I’ve heard they pay pretty well, too. I’ll just take a bite and go out. I might get a job for evenings for all this week.”

  “My eye, you will!” said Ted. “You sit down and eat your dinner, that is, if you feel able to sit up. We were just going to bring you up a tray, but now you’re down you might as well eat in style. Shove over there, Bud, and give Dad more room. But you might as well understand right now, Dad, that you are under the doctor’s orders. You don’t stir a step out of this house till he says you can. See? And not then till I’ve gone and got your overcoat back. Where’s that pawn ticket, Dad? Hand it over. No, you don’t need to cut this steak. I can do it as well as you can. Not that I’ve seen any recently, of course, but I remember how you’ve cut it for years. I used to think I would really be grown up when I could cut the meat for the family, and this is about the first time I’ve had a chance to try. Get him a plate, Betts, and pour him a cup of coffee quick while I manipulate this beefsteak.”

  The father sank back in the chair under Ted’s powerful young handling, and looked about, dazed.

  “But you haven’t told me yet where you got all this dinner? Am I dreaming or is this a real dinner on the table? Betty, you don’t mean that you allowed welfare to furnish this, do you? I couldn’t bear to think we had come to that!”

  “No, Father,” said Betty, with a twinkle in her eyes. “We didn’t have to go out and beg, either.” And then as she heard Marjorie’s step in the pantry, Betty suddenly grew sober.

  “Father, I’d better tell you right off, quick. It’s all in the family. You don’t need to be troubled. My twin sister has come, and she got all these things!”

  The father looked up with great startled eyes and turned perfectly white.

  “Your sister has come? What do you mean, Elizabeth? Do you mean the little sister who was adopted? Do you mean that she has come and gone, and your mother and I did not see her?”

  “No. Oh no, Father,” said Betty, half frightened at what her revelation had done to her father. “She hasn’t gone. She’s right here in the house. Here she comes now!”

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nbsp; Marjorie stood there, smiling, with a plate of bread in one hand and the glass of milk in the other, looking so at home, and so sweet and domesticated that he had to look twice to be sure she wasn’t Betty. And Marjorie met her own father’s eyes for the first time in her young life, and loved him at once.

  Suddenly she put down the things she was carrying and went to meet the father who had risen to his feet and was staring at her. She went sweetly across the years into his arms and laid her golden head on his shoulder, looking up into his face.

  “Father, I’ve come home! Do you mind?” she said shyly.

  Hungrily his arms went round her, and his face came down softly and touched hers.

  “Do I mind?” he said wonderingly. “Do I mind? Oh, my little girl, whom I have never seen before! My other little Betty. Do I mind?”

  He touched her forehead with his lips, almost as if he felt she was not real, and then he looked up again, while all the other children sat and looked on in wonder. A sadness had come over that sudden radiance of his face.

  “But what a home you have come to, my child! What a home! All the comforts gone!” Then suddenly he looked around and saw the familiar sideboard and chairs and table, and bewilderment came into his eyes.

  “Am I dreaming, Ted? Or is all this real?” He turned troubled eyes on his boy.

  Ted gave him a sharp look.

  “It’s real all right, Dad, but you won’t be for long if you don’t sit down and eat some of this beefsteak pretty quick, and I mean it. Time enough to satisfy your curiosity after you have eaten this dinner. This is some dinner, I’m telling you!”

  Ted pushed his father down in his chair and handed over a plate with a fine, juicy piece of steak on it.

  “There! Get on the outside of that as quick as you can. Betts, pass the potatoes and get Dad going or we’ll have to put him back in bed again.”