Opportunities

"Well, you are a brick!" was Norton's remark, when he came in. "I suppose you know what it means by this time?"

"I wish you'd open those two windows for me, Norton; I can't undo the fastenings. Then perhaps you'd be a brick too?"

"I don't know," said Norton, laughing. "Well – there, Pink. What now?"

"Show me, Norton, where the things are."

"All at once, is rather too much," said Norton, as he and Matilda went into York's pantry. "All for nothing, too. Nursing! nonsense! they wouldn't have to nurse those people. It's jealousy."

"Yes, I think they are jealous," said Matilda, "from something the cook said."

Norton stood and looked on admiringly, while Matilda found the tablecloth, and arranged cups and saucers, and plates, and spoons, and mats, and all the belongings of the breakfast-table.

"Have you got to go to the stables, Norton?"

"Yes."

"Well, won't you go and get back, then? The breakfast will be ready, you know."

"Forgot all about that," said Norton.

While he was gone Matilda finished her arrangements; and was watching for him from the verandah when Mrs. Laval came behind her.

Of course it had become necessary to tell her the state of affairs. Mrs. Laval set down in one of the verandah chairs as soon as Matilda began to speak, and drew the child to her arms; wrapping them all round her, she sat thoughtfully caressing her, kissing her brow, and cheeks, and lips, and smoothing her hair, in a sort of fond reverie; so fond, that Matilda did not stir to interrupt her, while she was so thoughtful, that Matilda was sure she was pondering all the while on what was best to do.

"Who set the table?"

"I did, ma'am. Norton showed me where things were."

"Ma'am," repeated Mrs. Laval, drawing the child closer. "Would it be very hard to call me 'mamma' – some time – when you know me better? I can't let you go."

Matilda flushed and trembled; and then Norton came running up the bank. He smiled at the sight of his mother, with Matilda in her arms and her face resting upon Matilda's forehead.

"What's the word down there this morning, Norton?"

"I don't know, mamma; I've only been to see the horses. They are well."

"To the stables, have you been? Then do run and change your dress, Norton."

"Yes, and breakfast's ready, Norton," Matilda called after him. She slid off Mrs. Laval's lap and rang for it, and when it came up on the dumb waiter, she did York's work in setting it on the table with a particular pleasure. She began to have a curious feeling of being at home in the house.

"There is but one thing for me to do," said Mrs. Laval, as they sat at breakfast. "I must go down to the city and get a new houseful of servants, to do till these are well. But I'm in a great puzzle how to leave you two children. There will be nobody here; and I may very possibly be obliged to stay a night in town. It is not at all likely that I can do what I have to do, in time to take an evening train."

"I can take care of Pink, mamma."

"Who will take care of you?"

"I'll try," said Matilda.

"What can you do, to take care of me?" said Norton.

"You will want something to eat," said Matilda. "I think you will – before to-morrow night."

"If I do, I can get it," said Norton.

"He thinks dinner grows, like a cabbage," said Mrs. Laval; "or like a tulip, rather. His head is full of tulips. But I cannot go to-day to New York; I could not catch the train. I'll go down-stairs and see these people after breakfast, and make them stay."

But when Mrs. Laval descended half an hour later to the regions of the kitchen, she found them deserted. Nobody was there. The fire, in a sullen state of half life, seemed to bear witness to the fact; the gridiron stood by the side of the hearth with bits of fish sticking to it; the saucepan which had held the eggs was still half full of water on the hob; the floor was unswept, the tray of eggs stood on one table, a quantity of unwashed dishes on another, but silence everywhere announced that the hands which should have been busy with all these matters were no longer within reach of them. Mrs. Laval went up-stairs again.

"Every creature is gone," she said. "I am sure I do not know what we are to do. Jealousy, Norton, did you say?"

"Because you have sent for these Swiss people, mamma."

"Is it possible? Well – I don't know what we are to do, as I said. We shall have no dinner."

"I can get the dinner," said Matilda. At which there was some laughing; and then Mrs. Laval said she must go and see how the poor people were. Norton was despatched to find some oysters if he could; and Matilda quietly went down-stairs again, with her little head full. She was there still an hour later, when Mrs. Laval came home and called for her. Matilda came running up, with red cheeks.

"Ah, there you are! What are you doing, Matilda? you have got your face all flushed."

"It's just the fire," said Matilda.

"Fire? What are you doing, child?"

"Nothing, much. Only trying to put things a little in order."

"You," said Mrs. Laval. "Leave that, my darling. You cannot. There will be somebody to do it by and by. But I wish I had somebody here now, to make gruel, or porridge, or something, for those poor people. They are without any comforts."

Mrs. Laval looked puzzled.

"Are they better?" Matilda asked.

"Two of them are unwell; indeed they are all ill, more or less; but the men are really bad, I think."

"If I had some meal, I could make gruel," said Matilda. "I know how. I have made it for – I have made it at home, often."

"Could you?" said Mrs. Laval. "There must be some meal here somewhere."

She went down to search for it. But it was found presently that she did not know meal when she saw it; and Matilda's help was needed to decide which barrel held the article.

"I am a useless creature," Mrs. Laval said, as she watched Matilda getting some meal out. "If you can manage that, darling, I will be for ever obliged to you, and so will those poor people. It is really good to know how to do things. Why, what have you done with all the dishes and irons that were standing about here? You have got the place in order, I declare! What have you done with them, dear?"

"They are put away. Shall I put on a pot and boil some potatoes, Mrs. Laval? I can; and there is a great piece of cold beef in the pantry."

"Boil potatoes? no, indeed!" said Mrs. Laval. "Norton will get us some oysters, and some bread and some cake at the baker's. No, dear, do not touch the horrid things; keep your hands away from them. We'll fast for a day or two, and enjoy eating all the better afterwards."

Matilda made her gruel, nicely; and Mrs. Laval carried it herself down to the farmhouse. She came back looking troubled. They could not touch it, she said, after all; not one of them but the young girl; they were really a sick house down there; and she would go to New York and get help to-morrow. So by the early morning train she went.

It was rather a day of amusement to the two children left alone at home. They had a great sense of importance upon them, and some sense of business. Matilda, at least, found a good deal for herself to do, up-stairs and down-stairs; then she and Norton sat down on the verandah in the soft October light, and consulted over all the details of the tulip and hyacinth beds.

"Fifty dollars!" said Matilda, at last.

"Yes?" said Norton. "Well?"

"Nothing. Only – did you ever think, Norton, how many other things one could do with fifty dollars? I wonder if it is right to spend so much just on a flower-bed?"

"It isn't. It's on two flower-beds," said Norton.

"Well, on two. It is the same thing."

"That's a very loose way of talking," said Norton. "Two and one are not at all the same thing. They are three."

"O Norton! but you are twisting things all round, now. I didn't say anything ridiculous."

"I am not so sure of that. Pink, one would never spend money any way, if one stopped because one could spend it some other way."

"But it ought to be always the best way."

"You can't tell what the best way is," said Norton. "I can't think of anything so good to do with this fifty dollars, as to make those two beds of bulbous roots."

Matilda sat thinking, not convinced, but longing very much to see the hyacinths and tulips, when a voice at the glass door behind her made her start. It was the doctor.

"Good morning. Is nobody at home?"

"Nobody but us," said Norton.

"Mrs. Laval gone out, eh?"

"Gone to New York, sir."

"To New York, eh? Ah! Well! Unfortunate!"

"What shall I tell her, sir, when she comes back?"

"Is there anybody in the house that can make beef tea?"

"No, sir," said Norton.

"If you will tell me how, Dr. Bird, I will have some," Matilda said.

"You, eh? Well, you do know something more than most girls. You can remember and follow directions, if I tell you, eh?"

"Yes, sir, I think I can."

"Then I'll tell you. You take a piece of juicy beef – he can see to that – juicy beef; not a poor cut, mind, nor fat; mustn't be any fat; and you cut it into dice; and when you have cut it all up fine, you put it in a bottle, and cork it up. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. But I don't know what dice are."

"Don't, eh? well, little bits as big as the end of my finger, will do as well as dice. Then when you have got your bottle corked, set it in a pot of water, and put the pot on the fire, and let it boil, till the juice of the beef comes out. Then strain that juice. That's beef tea."

"I mustn't put any water in with the beef, sir? – in the bottle?"

"Not a drop. Keep the water all in the pot."

"Who is to have the beef tea, doctor, when it is made?"

"Those two Frenchmen at the farmhouse. I told the women. They ought to have it now. And a nurse, too; the women are ill themselves."

Dr. Bird went his way, and Matilda persuaded Norton to go at once in quest of some juicy beef. It would be a difficult job, he said, for the butchers' shops were shut up; but he would go and try. While he was gone Matilda amused herself with getting a dinner for him and herself down in the kitchen; and there, when he came back, the two went, to eat their dinner and to set the beef tea a-going. They had rather a jolly time of it, to tell the truth; and were so very social, and discussed so many things besides their beef and bread, that the beef tea was ready to strain by the time Matilda had cleared the things away. And then she and Norton went down to the farmhouse to carry it.

They could get nobody to come to the door, so they opened it for themselves. It was a sad house to see. In two rooms all the family were gathered; the men lying on beds in the inner room, one woman on the floor of the other, and one on a cot. All ill. The girl alone held her head up, and she complained it was hard to do even that. Matilda and Norton went from one room to another. The men lay like logs, stupid with fever; one of the women was light-headed; not any of them would touch what Matilda had brought. The poor girl who was still on her feet was crying. There was no fire, no friend, no comfort or help of any sort. Nor ton and his little companion made the rounds helplessly, and then went out to consult together.

"Norton, they are dreadfully ill," whispered Matilda. "I know they are."

"I guess you are right," said Norton. "But you and I can't do anything."

"I can," said Matilda. "I can give them water, and I can give them beef tea. And you, Norton, I will tell you what you can do. Go for Miss Redwood."

"Miss Redwood? who's she?"

"Don't you remember? Mr. Richmond's housekeeper. She'll come, I know."

"She'll be very good if she does," said Norton. "But I'll tell her you said so. Do you think she would come?"

"I'm certain of it."

CHAPTER XI

Norton made his way to the brown door of the parsonage, and knocked; but the person that opened it was the minister himself. Norton was a little confused now, remembering what his errand meant there.

"Norton Laval, isn't it?" said Mr. Richmond. "You are very welcome, Norton, at my house. Will you come in?"

"No, sir. If you please – "

"What is it? Something you would rather say to me here?"

"No, sir. I was coming – "

"To see me, I hope?"

"No, sir," said Norton, growing desperate and colouring, which he was very unapt to do. "If you please, Mr. Richmond, I was sent to speak to – I forget what her name is – the woman who lives here."

"Miss Redwood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who sent you?"

"Matilda Englefield."

"Did she? Pray why did not Matilda come with you?"

"She could not, sir; she was very busy. She asked me to come."

"You can see Miss Redwood," said Mr. Richmond, smiling. "I believe she is always ready to receive visitors; at least I never saw a time when she was not. You have only to walk right in and knock at her door there. When are you coming to see me, Norton? You and I ought to be better friends."

"I don't know, sir," said Norton. "I would not intrude."

"Ask your friend Matilda if I do not like such intrusions. I shall have to invite you specially, I see. Well, go in and find Miss Redwood. I will not detain you now."

Norton went in, glad to be released, for he did not exactly want to tell his errand to the minister, knocked at the kitchen door and was bade to enter. It was full, the kitchen was, of the sweet smell of baking bread; and Miss Redwood was busily peering into her stove oven.

"Who's there?" she asked, too much engaged in turning her loaves to give her eyes to anything else, even a visitor. Norton told his name, and waited till the oven doors shut to with a clang; and then Miss Redwood, very pink in the face, rose up to look at him.

"I've seen you before," was her remark.

"Yes. I brought Matilda Englefield here one day," Norton answered.

"H'm. I thought she brought you. What brings you now?"

"Matilda wanted me to come with a message to you."

"Well, you can sit down and tell it, if you're a mind to. Why didn't the child come herself? that's the first idee that comes to me."

"She is busy trying to nurse some sick folks, and they are more than she can manage, and she wants your help. At least, she sent me to ask you if you wouldn't come."

"Who's ill?"

"Some people just come from Switzerland to be my mother's servants."

"Switzerland," repeated Miss Redwood. "I have heard o' Switzerland, more than once in my life. I should like to know whereabouts it is. I never knew any one yet that could tell me."

"Mr. Richmond knows, I suppose," said Norton.

"I suppose he knows Greek," said Miss Redwood, "and ever so many other queer tongues too, I've no doubt; but I should like to see myself askin' him to learn me. No, I mean, as I never knew nobody that I'd ask. La! there's folks enough that knows. Only I never had no chances for them things."

"I could shew you where Switzerland is, if you had a map," said Norton.

"I guess I know as much as that myself," said the housekeeper quietly, opening the stove door again for a peep at the oven. "But what does that tell me? I see a little spot o' paper painted green, and a big spot along side of it painted some other colour; and the map is all spots; and somebody tells me that little green spot is Switzerland. And I should like to know, how much wiser am I for that? That's paper and green paint; but what I want to know is, where is the place."

"It's hard to tell," said Norton, so much amused that he forgot his commission.

"Well, these folks come from Switzerland, you say. How did they come?"

"They came in a ship – part of the way."

"How fur in a ship?"

"Three thousand miles."

"Three thousand," repeated Miss Red wood. "When you get up there, I don't know what miles mean, no more than if you spoke another language. I understand a hundred miles. It's nigh that to New York."

"They came that hundred miles, over and above," said Norton.

"Well, how long now, does it take a ship to go that fur? Three thousand miles."

"It depends on how fast the wind blows."

"The wind goes awful fast sometimes," said Miss Redwood. "When it goes at that rate as will carry a chimney off a house, and pick up a tree by the roots as I would a baby under my arm, seems to me a ship would travel at a powerful speed."

"It would certainly, if there was nothing to hinder," said Norton; "but at those times, you see, the wind picks up the water, and sends such huge waves rolling about that it is not very safe to be where they can give you a slap. Ships don't get along best at such times."

"Well, I'm thankful I'm not a sailor," said Miss Redwood. "I'd rather stay home and know less. How many o' these folks o' yourn is ill?"

"All of them, pretty much," said Norton. "Two men and two women."

"Fever nagur?"

"No, 'tisn't that. I don't know what it is. The doctor is attending them. He ordered beef tea to-day; and Matilda made some; but they seem too ill to take it now they've got it."

Miss Redwood dropped her towel, with which she was just going to open the oven again, and stood upright.

"Beef tea?" she echoed. "How long have these folks been ill?"

"Ever since they came ashore almost. They came straight up here, and began to be ill immediately. That was a few days ago; not a week."

"Beef tea!" said Miss Redwood again. "And just come to shore. How do they look? Did you see them?"

"Yes, I saw them," said Norton. "I went with Matilda when she took the beef tea to them. How did they look? I can't tell; they looked bad. The men were mahogany colour, and one of the women was out of her head, I think."

"And you two children going to see them!" exclaimed Miss Redwood, in a tone that savoured of strong disapprobation, not to say dismay.

"Because there was no one else," said Norton. "Mamma has gone to New York to get more people; for all ours went off when they knew of the sickness at the farmhouse."

"Why?" said Miss Redwood, sharply.

"I don't know. I suppose they were jealous of these strangers."

"H'm," said Miss Redwood, beginning now to take her bread out of the oven with a very hurried hand; "there's jealousy enough in the world, no doubt, and unreason enough; but it don't usually come like an epidemic neither. You go home, and tell Matilda I'm a comin' as fast as ever I kin get my chores done and my hood and shawl on. And you tell her – will she do what you tell her?"

"I don't know," said Norton. "What is it?"

"Where is it these folks are ill? Not to your house?"

"Oh no. Down at the farmhouse – you know our farmhouse – under the bank."

"Did you leave the child there?"

"She was there when I came away."

"Well, you run home as fast as your legs can carry you, and fetch her out of that. Bring her home, and don't you nor she go down there again. Maybe it's no harm, but it's safe to do as I tell you. Now go, and I'll come. Don't let the grass grow under your feet."

Norton was not used to be ordered about quite so decidedly; it struck him as an amusing variety in his life. However he divined that Miss Redwood might have some deep reason for being so energetic, and he was not slow in getting back to Briery Bank; so his mother's place was called. The house was shut up, as he and Matilda had left it, and he went on down to the home of the sick people. There he found Matilda as he had left her. Norton only put his head into the sick-room and called her out.

"Miss Redwood is coming," he said.

"I'm so glad! I knew she would," said Matilda. "She will know what to do. They all seem stupid, Norton, except the woman who is out of her head."

"Yes, she will know what to do," said Norton; "and you had better come away now. You don't."

"I can do something, though," said Matilda. "I can give the medicine and the beef tea. Why, there was nobody even to give the medicine, Norton. I found it here with the doctor's directions; and nobody had taken it till I came, not one of these poor people. But oh, the rooms are so disagreeable with so many invalids in them! you can't think."

"I can, for I've been in them," said Norton. "And once is enough. They have got the medicine now, Pink; you needn't stay any longer."

"Oh yes, but I must. I must till Miss Redwood comes. The medicine will have to be taken again in a little while."

"It can wait till she gets here. You come away, Pink. Miss Redwood said you should."

"She didn't know what there was for me to do, or she wouldn't have said it. I can't go, Norton."

"But you must, Pink. She said so. Suppose these people should be ill with something dreadful? you can't tell."

"I am sure they would want a nurse then."

"But you might get ill, you know."

"Well, Norton, I'm not afraid."

"You might get sick, all the same, if you're not afraid," said Norton, impatiently. "Come, Pink, you must come."

"I can't, Norton. I must go in and give them some more beef tea now, in a minute. They can't take but ever so little at a time. It would be very wrong to leave them as they are."

"You might get ill, and die," said Norton.

"Well, Norton," said Matilda, slowly, "I don't think I am afraid of that. I belong to Jesus. He will take care of me."

"I don't think you know what you are talking of!" said Norton, very impatient, and very much at a loss how to manage Matilda.

"Oh yes, I do!" she said, smiling. "Now I must go in. You needn't come, for there wouldn't be anything for you to do."

Matilda disappeared; and Norton, wishing very much that he could lay hold of her and carry her away by force, did not, however, feel that it would exactly do. He sat down on the door stone of the house, he would not go further, and waited. There was a delicious calm sunlight over all the world that October afternoon; it puzzled Norton how there could be a sick-house anywhere under such a sky. He heard the ponies stamping their idle hoofs against the barn floor; they were spoiling for exercise; why were he and Matilda not out driving, instead of having this state of things? Then some gaily disposed crows went flying overhead, calling a cheery reminder to each other as they went along; they were having a good time. Norton chafed against the barriers that hindered him. Suddenly a swift footstep came over the grass, and Mr. Richmond stood before him.

"Is this the house?" he asked. "Is Matilda here?"

"Yes, sir; and I've tried to get her out. And I can't."

Mr. Richmond went in without more words. A moment after Matilda opened the door he had shut.

"Well! will you go now?" said Norton.

"I must. Mr. Richmond will not let me stay."

Mr. Richmond himself came again to the door.

"Norton," said he, "I am going to ask you to take Matilda to the parsonage. The best thing will be for you and her to make your home there, until Mrs. Laval gives further orders. You will both be heartily welcome. Will you take her there and take care of her until I come home?"

"Thank you, sir," said Norton, "it is not necessary – "

"You must let my word go for that," said the minister, smiling. "If not necessary, I think it prudent. I wish it; and I invite both of you. It would be treating me very ill to refuse me, and I am sure you will not do that. I trust you to take care of Matilda until I get home. The house will be quite alone when Miss Redwood leaves it. Is anybody in the house on the bank?"

"No, sir; nobody."

"I will lock it up, then, and bring the key. Go in and put up anything you will want for a day or two, and I will send it after you."

With a nod and a smile at them Mr. Richmond went in again. The two children looked at each other, and then began to mount the bank.

"You do what Mr. Richmond tells you," remarked Norton.

"Of course," said Matilda. "So do you."

"It wouldn't be civil to do anything else," said Norton. "But isn't it jolly, that you and I should go to make a visit at the parsonage! What is a parsonage like? It isn't like other houses, I suppose."

"Why, yes, it is," said Matilda; "just like; only a minister lives in it."

"That makes the difference," said Norton. "Don't you feel as if you were in church all the time? I shall, I know."

"Why, no, Norton! what an idea. Mr. Richmond's house is not like a church."