The Poor Little Rich Girl Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  Miss Royle looked sober as she sipped her orange-juice. And she cut offthe top of her breakfast egg as noiselessly as possible. Her directionsto Thomas, she half-whispered, or merely signaled them by a wave of hercoffee-spoon. Now and then she glanced across the room to thewhite-and-gold bed. Then she beamed fondly.

  As for Thomas, he fairly stole from tray to table, from table to tray,his face all concern. Occasionally, if his glance followed Miss Royle's,he smiled--a broad, sympathetic smile.

  And Jane was subdued and solicitous. She sat beside the bed, holding asmall hand--which from time to time she patted encouragingly.

  After the storm, calm. The more tempestuous the storm, the more perfectthe calm. This was the rule of the nursery. Gwendolyn, lying among thepillows, wished she could always feel weak and listless. It madeeveryone so kind.

  "Thomas," said Miss Royle, as she folded her napkin and rustled to herfeet, "you may call up the Riding School and say that Miss Gwendolynwill not ride to-day."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "And, Jane, you may go out for the morning. I shall stay here."

  "Thanks," acknowledged Jane, in a tone quite unusual for her. She didnot rise, however, but waited, striving to catch Thomas's eye.

  "And, Thomas," went on the governess, "when would _you_ like an hour?"

  Thomas advanced with a bow of appreciation. "If it's all the same toyou, Miss Royle," said he, "I'll have a bit of an airin' directly aftersupper this evenin'."

  Jane glared.

  "Very well." Miss Royle rustled toward the school-room, taking a surveyof herself in the pier-glass as she went. "Jane," she added, "you willbe free to go in half an hour." She threw Gwendolyn a loud kiss.

  Thomas was directing his attention to the clearing of thebreakfast-table. The moment the door closed behind the governess, Janeshot up from her chair and advanced upon him.

  "You ain't treatin' me fair," she charged, speaking low, but breathingfast. "You ain't takin' your hours off duty along with me no more.You're givin' me the cold shoulder."

  At that, Gwendolyn turned her head to look. Of late, she had heard not afew times of Thomas's cold shoulder--this in heated encounters betweenhim and Jane. She wondered which of his shoulders was the cold one.

  Thomas lifted his upper lip in a sneer. "Indeed!" he replied. "I'm nottreatin' you fair? Well," (with meaning) "I didn't think you wasbotherin' your head about anybody--except a certain policeman."

  Back jerked Jane's chin. "Can't I have a gentleman friend?" she demandeddefensively.

  "Ha! ha! Gentleman friend!" Then, addressing no one in particular, "My!but don't a uniform take a woman's eye!"

  "Why, Thomas!" It was a sorrowful protest. "You misjudge, you really_do_."

  So far there was no fresh element in the misunderstanding. Thus the twoargued time and again. Gwendolyn almost knew their quarrel by heart.

  But now Thomas came round upon Jane with a snarl. "You're not foolin'me," he declared. "Don't you think I know that policeman's heels overhead?" He shook his crumb-knife at her. "_Heels over head!_" Thenseizing the tray and swinging it up, he stalked out.

  Jane fell to pacing the floor. Her reddish eyes roved angrily.

  Heels over head! Gwendolyn, pondering, now watched the nurse, now lookedacross to where, on its shelf, was poised the toy somersault man. If oneof the uniformed men she dreaded was heels over head--

  "But, Jane."

  "Well? Well?"

  "I saw the p'liceman walking on his feet _yesterday_."

  "Hush your silly talk!"

  Gwendolyn hushed, her gray eyes wistful, her mouth drooping. The morninghad been so peaceful. Now Jane had spoken the first rough word.

  Peace returned with Miss Royle, who came in with the morning paper,dismissed Jane, and settled down in the upholstered chair, silver-rimmedspectacles on nose.

  The brocade hangings of the front window were only partly drawn. Betweenthem, Gwendolyn made out more of those fat sheep straying down the azurefield of the sky. She lay very still and counted them; and, counting,slept, but restlessly, with eyes only half-shut and nervous starts.

  Awakening at noon the listlessness was gone, and she felt stronger. Hereyes were bright, too. There was a faint color in cheeks and lips.

  "Miss Royle!"

  "Yes, darling?" The governess leaned forward attentively.

  "I can understand why you call Thomas a footman. It's 'cause he runsaround so much on his feet--"

  "You're better," said Miss Royle. She turned her paper inside out.

  "But one day you said he was all ears, and--"

  "Gwendolyn!" Miss Royle stared down over her glasses. "Never repeat whatyou hear me say, love. It's tattling, and tattling is ill-bred. Now,what can I give you?"

  Gwendolyn wanted a drink of water.

  When Thomas appeared with the dinner-tray, he gave an impressive wag ofthe head. "_What_ do you think I've got for you?" he asked--while MissRoyle propped Gwendolyn to a sitting position.

  Gwendolyn did not try to guess. She was not interested. She had noappetite.

  Thomas brought forward a silver dish. "It's a bird!" he announced, andlifted the cover.

  Gwendolyn looked.

  It was a small bird, richly browned. A tiny sprig of parsley garnishedit on either side. A ribbon of bacon lay in crisp flutings across it.Its short round legs were up-thrust. On the end of each was a paperfrill.

  "_Don't_ it look delicious!" said Thomas warmly. "Don't it tempt!"

  But Gwendolyn regarded it without enthusiasm. "What kind of a bird isit?" she asked.

  Thomas displayed a second dish--Bermuda potatoes the size of her ownsmall fist. "Who knows?" said he. "It might be a robin, it might be aplover, it might be a quail."

  "It might be a--a talking-bird," said Gwendolyn. She poked the bird witha fork.

  "Not likely," declared Thomas.

  Gwendolyn turned away.

  "Ain't it to your likin'?" asked Thomas, surprised. He did not take theplate at once, in his usual fashion.

  "I--I don't want anything," she declared.

  "Oh, but maybe you'd fancy an egg."

  Gwendolyn took a glass of water.

  "It's just as well," said Miss Royle. When she resigned her placepresently, she talked to Jane in undertones,--so that Gwendolyn couldhear only disconnectedly: "...Think it would be the safest thing ...she gets any worse.... Never do, Jane ... find out by themselves.... Shewon't be home till late to-night ... some grand affair. But he ...though of course I'm sorry to have to."

  The moment Miss Royle was well away, Jane had a plan. "_I_ think you'regittin' on so fine that you can hop up and dress," she declared, notinghow the gray eyes sparkled, and how pink were the round spots onGwendolyn's cheeks.

  Gwendolyn had nothing to say.

  Jane ran to the wardrobe and took out a dress. It was a new one, ofcream-white wool; and on a sleeve, as well as on the corners of thesailor collar and the tips of the broad tie, scarlet anchors wereembroidered.

  Gwendolyn smiled. But it was not the anchors that charmed forth thesmile. It was a pocket, set like a shield on the blouse--an adorablepatch-pocket!

  "Oh!" she cried; "did They make me that pocket? Jane, how sweet!"

  "One, two, three," said Jane, briskly, "and we'll have this on! Let'ssee by the clock how quick you can jump into it!"

  The clock was a familiar method of inducing Gwendolyn to do hastilysomething she had not thought of doing at all. She shook her head.

  "Why, it'd do you _good_, pettie,"--this coaxingly.

  "It's too warm to dress," said Gwendolyn.

  Jane flung the garment back into the wardrobe without troubling to hangit up, and banged the wardrobe door. But she did not again broach thesubject of getting up. A hint of uneasiness betrayed itself in hermanner. She took a chair by the bed.

  Gwendolyn's whole face was gradually taking on a deep flush, for thoseflaming spots on her cheeks were spreading to throat and temples--to hervery hair. She kept her
hands in constant motion. Next, the small tonguebegan to babble uninterruptedly.

  It was the overlively talking that made Jane certain that Gwendolyn wasill. She leaned to feel of the busy hands, the throbbing forehead. Thenshe hastily telephoned Thomas.

  "Have we any more of that quietin' medicine?" she asked as he opened thedoor.

  "It's all gone. Why?"

  The two forgot their differences, and bent over Gwendolyn.

  She smiled up, and nodded. "All the clouds in the sky are filled withwind," she declared; "like automobile tires. Toy-balloons are, I know.Once I put a pin in one, and the wind blew right out. I s'pose theclouds in the South hold the south wind, and the clouds in the Northhold the north wind, and the clouds--"

  "Jane," said Thomas, "we've got to have a doctor."

  Gwendolyn heard. She saw Jane spring to the telephone. The next instant,with a piercing scream that sent her canary fluttering to the top of itscage, she flung herself sidewise.

  "Jane! Oh, don't! Jane! He'll kill me! _Jane!_"

  Jane fell back, and caught Gwendolyn in her arms. The little figure wasall a-tremble, both small hands were beating the air in wild protest.

  "Jane! Oh, I'll be good! I'll be good!" She hid her face against thenurse, shuddering.

  "But you're sick, lovie. And a doctor would make you well. There! There!Listen to Jane, dearie."

  Thomas laid an anxious hand on the yellow head. "The doctor won't hurtyou," he declared. "He only gives bread-pills, anyhow."

  "_No-o-o!_" She flung herself back upon the bed, catching at the pillowsas if to hide beneath them, writhing pitifully, moaning, beseeching withterrified eyes.

  Jane and Thomas stared helplessly at each other, their faces guilty andfrightened.

  "Dearie!" cried Jane; "hush and we won't--Oh, Thomas, I'm fairlydistracted!--Pettie, we _won't_ have the doctor."

  Gradually Gwendolyn quieted. Then carefully, and by degrees, Janeapproached the matter of medical aid in a new way.

  "We'll just telephone," she declared, "We wont let any old doctor comehere--not a _bit_ of it. We'll ask him to send something. Is _that_ allright. _Please_, darlin'."

  Reluctantly, Gwendolyn yielded. "The medicine'll be awful nasty," shefaltered.

  To that Jane made no reply. Her every freckle was standing out clearly.Her reddish eyes bulged. She hunted a number in the telephone-directorywith fumbling fingers. After which she held the receiver to her ear witha shaking hand. "Everything's goin' wrong," she mourned.

  Huddled into a little ball, and still as a frightened bird, Gwendolynlistened to the message.

  "Hello!... Hello! Is this the Doctor speakin'?... Oh, this is MissGwendolyn's nurse, sir.... _Yes_ sir. Well, Miss Gwendolyn's a littlenervous to-day, sir. Not sick enough to call you in, sir.... But I wasgoin' to ask if you couldn't send something soothin'. She's been cryin'like, that's all.... Yes, sir, and wakeful--"

  "A little hysterical yesterday," prompted Thomas, in a low voice.

  "A little hysterical yesterday," went on Jane. "...Yes, sir, bymessenger.... I'll be _most_ careful, sir.... Thank you, sir."

  Jane and Thomas combined to make the remainder of the afternoon lessdull. One by one the favorite toys came down from the second shelf. Anda miniature circus took place on the rug beside the bed--a circus inwhich each toy played a part. Gwendolyn's fear was charmed away. Shelaughed, and drank copious draughts of water--delicious bubbling waterthat Thomas poured from tall bottles.

  Jane had her own supper beside the white-and-gold bed--coffee and asandwich only. Gwendolyn still had no appetite, but seemed almost herusual self once more. So much so that when she asked questions, Jane wascross, and counseled immediate sleep.

  "But I'm not a bit sleepy," declared Gwendolyn. "It'll be moonlightafter while, Jane. May I look out at the Down-Town roofs?"

  "You may stop your botherin'," retorted Jane, "and make up your mind togo to sleep. You've give me a' awful day. Now try just forty winks."

  "Why do you always say forty?" inquired Gwendolyn. "Couldn't I takeforty-one?"

  "_Hush!_"

  After supper came the medicine--a dark liquid. Gwendolyn eyed itanxiously. Thomas was gone. Jane opened the bottle and measured ateaspoonful into a drinking-glass.

  "Do I have to take it now?" asked Gwendolyn.

  "To-morrow you'll wake up as good as new," asserted Jane. She touchedher tongue with the spoon, then smacked her lips. "Why, dearie, it's--"

  She was interrupted. From the direction of the side window there came aburst of instrumental music. With it, singing the words of a waltz froma popular opera, blended a thin, cracked voice.

  Before Jane could put out a restraining hand, Gwendolyn bounced to herknees. "Oh, it's the old hand-organ man!" she cried. "It's the oldhand-organ man! Oh, where's some money? I want to give him some money!"

  Jane threw up both hands wildly. "Oh, did I ever have such luck!" sheexclaimed. Then, between her teeth, and pressing Gwendolyn back upon thepillows, "You lay down or I'll shake you!"

  "Oh, please let him stay just this time!" begged Gwendolyn; "I like him,Jane!"

  "I'll stay him!" promised Jane, grimly. She marched to the side window,threw up the sash and leaned out. "Here, you!" she called down roughly."You git!"

  "Oh, Jane!" plead Gwendolyn.

  The thin, cracked voice fell silent. The waltz slowed its tempo, thencame to a gasping stop.

  "How's a body to git a child asleep with that old wheeze of yoursgoin'?" demanded Jane. "We don't _want_ you here. Move along!"

  "He could play me to sleep," protested Gwendolyn.

  A reply to Jane's order was shrilled up--something defiant.

  "He'd only excite you, darlin'," declared Jane. She was on her knees atthe window, and turned her head to speak. "I can't have that rumpus inthe street with you so nervous."

  Gwendolyn sighed.

  "Take your medicine, dearie," went on Jane. She stayed where she was.

  Promptly, Gwendolyn sat up and reached for the glass. To hold it, toshake it about and potter in the strange liquid with a spoon, would besome compensation for having to drink it.

  "If that mean old creature didn't make faces!" grumbled Jane. She wasleaning forward to look out.

  "_How_ did he make faces, Jane?" asked Gwendolyn. "Were they nice ones?"She lifted the glass to take a whiff of its contents. "I'd like to seehim make faces."

  She put the spoon into Jane's half-empty coffee-cup; then let themedicine run up the side of the glass until it was almost to her lips.She tasted it. It tasted good! She hesitated a second; then drained theglass.

  The street was quiet. Jane rose to her feet and came over. "Did you doas I said?" she asked.

  "Yes, Jane."

  "Now, _did_ you?" Jane picked up the glass, looked into it, then atGwendolyn. "Honest?"

  "Yes,--every sip."

  "_Gwendolyn?_" Jane held her with doubting eyes. "I don't believe it!"

  "But I _did!_"

  Jane bent down to the cup, sniffed it, then smelled of the glass.

  "Gwendolyn," she said solemnly, "I know you did _not_ take yourmedicine. You poured it into this cup."

  "But I _didn't!_"

  "I _seen_." Jane pointed an accusing finger.

  "How _could_ you?" demanded Gwendolyn. "You were looking at the brickhouse."

  "I've got eyes in the back of my head. And I seen you _plain_ when I waslookin' straight the other way."

  "A-a-aw!" laughed Gwendolyn, skeptically.

  "They're hid by my braids," went on Jane, "but they're there. And I seenyou throw away that medicine, you bad girl!" Again she leaned toexamine the coffee-cup.

  "Miss Royle said you had two faces," admitted Gwendolyn. She stared hardat the coiled braids on the back of Jane's head. The braids were pinnedclose together. No pair of eyes was visible.

  Jane straightened resolutely, seized the medicine-bottle and the spoon,poured out a second dose, and proffered it. "Come, now!" she saidfirmly. "You ain't a-goin' to git ahead of me with yo
ur cuteness. Takethis, and go to sleep."

  "Bu-but--"

  That moment a shrill whistle sounded from the street.

  "_There_ now!" cried Jane, triumphantly. "The policeman's right here. Ican call him up whenever I like."

  Gwendolyn drank.

  Jane tossed the spoon aside, corked the bottle and went back to theopen window. "You go to sleep," she commanded.

  Gwendolyn, lying flat, was murmuring to herself. "Oo-oo! How funny!" shesaid, "Oo-oo!"

  "Now, don't let me hear another word out of you!" warned Jane.

  Gwendolyn turned her head slowly from side to side. A great light ofsome kind was flaming against her eyes--a light shot through and throughwith black, whirling balls. Where did it come from?

  It stayed. And grew. Her eyes widened with wonderment. A smile curvedher lips.

  Then suddenly she rose to a sitting posture, threw out both arms, andgave a little choking cry.