Holly, I mean. "Course we"d "a" expected it of HER--losin" her own boy as she did, an" bein" jest naturally so sweet an" lovin"-hearted. But HIM--that"s diff"rent. Now, you know jest as well as I do what Mr.
Holly is--every one does, so I ain"t sayin" nothin" sland"rous. He"s a good man--a powerful good man; an" there ain"t a squarer man goin" ter work fur. But the fact is, he was made up wrong side out, an" the seams has always showed bad--turrible bad, with ravelin"s all stickin" out every which way ter ketch an" pull. But, gosh! I"m blamed if that, ere boy ain"t got him so smoothed down, you wouldn"t know, scursely, that he had a seam on him, sometimes; though how he"s done it beats me. Now, there"s Mis" Holly--she"s tried ter smooth "em, I"ll warrant, lots of times. But I"m free ter say she hain"t never so much as clipped a ravelin" in all them forty years they"ve lived tergether. Fact is, it"s worked the other way with her. All that HER rubbin" up ag"in" them seams has amounted to is ter git herself so smoothed down that she don"t never dare ter say her soul"s her own, most generally,--anyhow, not if he happens ter intermate it belongs ter anybody else!"
Jack Gurnsey suddenly choked over a cough.
"I wish I could--do something," he murmured uncertainly.
""T ain"t likely ye can--not so long as Mr. an" Mis" Holly is on their two feet. Why, there ain"t nothin" they won"t do, an" you"ll believe it, maybe, when I tell you that yesterday Mr. Holly, he tramped all through Sawyer"s woods in the rain, jest ter find a little bit of moss that the boy was callin" for. Think o" that, will ye? Simeon Holly huntin" moss! An" he got it, too, an" brung it home, an" they say it cut him up somethin" turrible when the boy jest turned away, and didn"t take no notice. You understand, "course, sir, the little chap ain"t right in his head, an" so half the time he don"t know what he says."
"Oh, I"m sorry, sorry!" exclaimed Gurnsey, as he turned away, and hurried toward the farmhouse.
Mrs. Holly herself answered his low knock. She looked worn and pale.
"Thank you, sir," she said gratefully, in reply to his offer of a.s.sistance, "but there isn"t anything you can do, Mr. Gurnsey. We"re having everything done that can be, and every one is very kind. We have a very good nurse, and Dr. Kennedy has had consultation with Dr. Benson from the Junction. They are doing all in their power, of course, but they say that--that it"s going to be the nursing that will count now."
"Then I don"t fear for him, surely" declared the man, with fervor.
"I know, but--well, he shall have the very best possible--of that."
"I know he will; but isn"t there anything--anything that I can do?"
She shook her head.
"No. Of course, if he gets better--" She hesitated; then lifted her chin a little higher; "WHEN he gets better," she corrected with courageous emphasis, "he will want to see you."
"And he shall see me," a.s.serted Gurnsey. "And he will be better, Mrs.
Holly,--I"m sure he will."
"Yes, yes, of course, only--oh, Mr. Jack, he"s so sick--so very sick!
The doctor says he"s a peculiarly sensitive nature, and that he thinks something"s been troubling him lately." Her voice broke.
"Poor little chap!" Mr. Jack"s voice, too, was husky.
She looked up with swift gratefulness for his sympathy.
"And you loved him, too, I know" she choked. "He talks of you often--very often."
"Indeed I love him! Who could help it?"
"There couldn"t anybody, Mr. Jack,--and that"s just it. Now, since he"s been sick, we"ve wondered more than ever who he is. You see, I can"t help thinking that somewhere he"s got friends who ought to know about him--now."
"Yes, I see," nodded the man.
"He isn"t an ordinary boy, Mr. Jack. He"s been trained in lots of ways--about his manners, and at the table, and all that. And lots of things his father has told him are beautiful, just beautiful! He isn"t a tramp. He never was one. And there"s his playing. YOU know how he can play."
"Indeed I do! You must miss his playing, too."
"I do; he talks of that, also," she hurried on, working her fingers nervously together; "but oftenest he--he speaks of singing, and I can"t quite understand that, for he didn"t ever sing, you know."
"Singing? What does he say?" The man asked the question because he saw that it was affording the overwrought little woman real relief to free her mind; but at the first words of her reply he became suddenly alert.
"It"s "his song," as he calls it, that he talks about, always. It isn"t much--what he says--but I noticed it because he always says the same thing, like this: I"ll just hold up my chin and march straight on and on, and I"ll sing it with all my might and main." And when I ask him what he"s going to sing, he always says, "My song--my song," just like that. Do you think, Mr. Jack, he did have--a song?"
For a moment the man did not answer. Something in his throat tightened, and held the words. Then, in a low voice he managed to stammer:--
"I think he did, Mrs. Holly, and--I think he sang it, too." The next moment, with a quick lifting of his hat and a murmured "I"ll call again soon," he turned and walked swiftly down the driveway.
So very swiftly, indeed, was Mr. Jack walking, and so self-absorbed was he, that he did not see the carriage until it was almost upon him; then he stepped aside to let it pa.s.s. What he saw as he gravely raised his hat was a handsome span of black horses, a liveried coachman, and a pair of startled eyes looking straight into his. What he did not see was the quick gesture with which Miss Holbrook almost ordered her carriage stopped the minute it had pa.s.sed him by.
CHAPTER XXII
AS PERRY SAW IT
One by one the days pa.s.sed, and there came from the anxious watchers at David"s bedside only the words, "There"s very little change." Often Jack Gurnsey went to the farmhouse to inquire for the boy. Often, too, he saw Perry Larson; and Perry was never loath to talk of David. It was from Perry, indeed, that Gurnsey began to learn some things of David that he had never known before.
"It does beat all," Perry Larson said to him one day, "how many folks asks me how that boy is--folks that you"d never think knew him, anyhow, ter say nothin" of carin" whether he lived or died. Now, there"s old Mis" Somers, fur instance. YOU know what she is--sour as a lemon an"
puckery as a chokecherry. Well, if she didn"t give me yesterday a great bo-kay o" posies she"d growed herself, an" said they was fur him--that they berlonged ter him, anyhow.
""Course, I didn"t exactly sense what she meant by that, so I asked her straight out; an" it seems that somehow, when the boy first come, he struck her place one day an" spied a great big red rose on one of her bushes. It seems he had his fiddle, an" he, played it,--that rose a-growin" (you know his way!), an" she heard an" spoke up pretty sharp an" asked him what in time he was doin". Well, most kids would "a"
run,--knowin" her temper as they does,--but not much David. He stands up as pert as ye please, an" tells her how happy that red rose must be ter make all that dreary garden look so pretty; an" then he goes on, merry as a lark, a-playin" down the hill.
"Well, Mis" Somers owned up ter me that she was pretty mad at the time, "cause her garden did look like tunket, an" she knew it. She said she hadn"t cared ter do a thing with it since her Bessie died that thought so much of it. But after what David had said, even mad as she was, the thing kind o" got on her nerves, an" she couldn"t see a thing, day or night, but that red rose a-growin" there so pert an" courageous-like, until at last, jest ter quiet herself, she fairly had ter set to an"
slick that garden up! She said she raked an" weeded, an" fixed up all the plants there was, in good shape, an" then she sent down to the Junction fur some all growed in pots, "cause "t was too late ter plant seeds. An, now it"s doin" beautiful, so she jest could n"t help sendin"
them posies ter David. When I told Mis" Holly, she said she was glad it happened, "cause what Mis" Somers needed was somethin" ter git her out of herself--an" I"m free ter say she did look better-natured, an" no mistake,--kind o" like a chokecherry in blossom, ye might say."
"An" then there"s the Widder Glaspell," continued Perry, after a pause.
""Course, any one would expect she"d feel bad, seein" as how good David was ter her boy--teachin" him ter play, ye know. But Mis" Glaspell says Joe jest does take on somethin" turrible, an" he won"t tech the fiddle, though he was plum carried away with it when David was well an"
teachin" of him. An" there"s the Clark kid. He"s lame, ye know, an" he thought the world an" all of David"s playin".
""Course, there"s you an" Miss Holbrook, always askin" an" sendin"
things--but that ain"t so strange, "cause you was "specially his friends. But it"s them others what beats me. Why, some days it"s "most ev"ry soul I meet, jest askin" how he is, an" sayin" they hopes he"ll git well. Sometimes it"s kids that he"s played to, an" I"ll be triggered if one of "em one day didn"t have no excuse to offer except that David had fit him--"bout a cat, or somethin"--an" that ever since then he"d thought a heap of him--though he guessed David didn"t know it. Listen ter that, will ye!
"An" once a woman held me up, an" took on turrible, but all I could git from her was that he"d sat on her doorstep an" played ter her baby once or twice;--as if that was anythin"! But one of the derndest funny ones was the woman who said she could wash her dishes a sight easier after she"d a-seen him go by playin". There was Bill Dowd, too. You know he really HAS got a screw loose in his head somewheres, an" there ain"t any one but what says he"s the town fool, all right. Well, what do ye think HE said?"
Mr. Jack shook his head.
"Well, he said he did hope as how nothin" would happen ter that boy cause he did so like ter see him smile, an" that he always did smile every time he met him! There, what do ye think o" that?"
"Well, I think, Perry," returned Mr. Jack soberly, "that Bill Dowd wasn"t playing the fool, when he said that, quite so much as he sometimes is, perhaps."
"Hm-m, maybe not," murmured Perry Larson perplexedly. "Still, I"m free ter say I do think "t was kind o" queer." He paused, then slapped his knee suddenly. "Say, did I tell ye about Streeter--Old Bill Streeter an" the pear tree?"
Again Mr. Jack shook his head.
"Well, then, I"m goin" to," declared the other, with gleeful emphasis.
"An", say, I don"t believe even YOU can explain this--I don"t! Well, you know Streeter--ev"ry one does, so I ain"t sayin" nothin"
sland"rous. He was cut on a bias, an" that bias runs ter money every time. You know as well as I do that he won"t lift his finger unless there"s a dollar stickin" to it, an" that he hain"t no use fur anythin"
nor anybody unless there"s money in it for him. I"m blamed if I don"t think that if he ever gits ter heaven, he"ll pluck his own wings an"