Your grateful friends, ALFRED A. and MARY WEMYSS.
"Here is a Bank of England draft for 120 pounds, nearly $600," Camilla said, as she finished the letter.
The Watson family sat dumb with astonishment.
"G.o.d help us!" Mrs. Watson cried at last.
"He has," Camilla said reverently.
Then Pearl threw her arms around her mother"s neck and kissed her over and over again.
"Ma, dear," she cried, "ye"ll git it now, what I always wanted ye to have, a fur-lined cape, and not lined wid rabbit, or squirrel or skunk either, but with the real vermin! and it wasn"t bad luck to have Mrs.
McGuire cross me path when I was going out. But they can"t mane me, Camilla, sure what did I do?"
But Camilla and Jim stood firm, the money was for her and her only.
Everyone knew, Jim said, that if she had not stayed with Arthur that long night and watched for the doctor, that Arthur would have been dead in the morning. And Arthur had told him a dozen times, Jim said, that Pearl had saved his life.
"Well then, "t was aisy saved," Pearl declared, "if I saved it."
Just then Dr. Clay came in with a letter in his hand.
"My business is with this young lady," he said as he sat on the chair Mrs. Watson had wiped for him, and drew Pearl gently toward him.
"Pearl, I got some money to-night that doesn"t belong to me."
"So did I," Pearl said.
"No, you deserve all yours, but I don"t deserve a cent. If it hadn"t been for this little girl of yours, Mr. Watson, that young Englishman would have been a dead man."
"Faith, that"s what they do be sayin", but I don"t see how that wuz.
You"re the man yerself Doc," John replied, taking his pipe from his mouth.
"No," the doctor went on. "I would have let him die if Pearl hadn"t held me up to it and made me operate."
Pearl sprang up, almost in tears. "Doc," she cried indignantly, "haven"t I towld ye a dozen times not to say that? Where"s yer sense, Doc?"
The doctor laughed. He could laugh about it now, since Dr. Barner had quite exonerated him from blame in the matter, and given it as his professional opinion that young Cowan would have died any way--the lancing of his throat having perhaps hastened, but did not cause his death.
"Pearl," the doctor said smiling, "Arthur"s father sent me 50 pounds and a letter that will make me blush every time I think of it. Now I cannot take the money. The operation, no doubt, saved his life, but if it hadn"t been for you there would have been no operation. I want you to take the money. If you do not, I will have to send it back to Arthur"s father and tell him all about it."
Pearl looked at him in real distress.
"And I"ll tell everyone else, too, what kind of a man I am--Jim here knows it already"--the doctor"s eyes were smiling as he watched her troubled little face.
"Oh, Doctor Clay," she cried, "you"re worse "n Danny when you get a notion inter yer head. What kin I do with ye?"
"I do not know," the doctor laughed, "unless you marry me when you grow up."
"Well," Pearl answered gravely, "I can"t do that till ma and me git the family raised, but I"m thinkin" maybe Mary Barner might take ye."
"I thought of that, too," the doctor answered, while a slight shadow pa.s.sed over his face, "but she seems to think not. However, I"m not in a hurry Pearl, and I just think I"ll wait for you."
After Camilla and Jim and the doctor had gone that night, and Teddy and Billy and Jimmy had gone to bed, Pearl crept into her father"s arms and laid her head on his broad shoulder.
"Pa," she said drowsily, "I"m glad I"m home."
Her father patted her little brown hand.
"So am I, acushla," he said; after a pause he whispered, "yer a good wee girl, Pearlie," but Pearl"s tired little eyes had closed in sleep.
Mrs. Watson laid more wood on the fire, which crackled merrily up the chimney.
"Lay her down, John dear," she whispered. "Yer arms"ll ache, man."
On the back of the stove the teakettle simmered drowsily. There was no sound in the house but the regular breathing of the sleeping children.
The fire burned low, but John Watson still sat holding his little sleeping girl in his arms. Outside the snow was beginning to fall.
CONCLUSION
CONVINCING CAMILLA
"If you can convince me, Jim, that you are more irresponsible and more in need of a guiding hand than Mrs. Francis--why then I"ll--I"ll be--"
Jim sprang from his chair.
"You"ll be what, Camilla? Tell me quick," he cried eagerly.
"I"ll be--convinced," she said demurely, looking down.
Jim sat down again and sighed.
"Will you be anything else?" he asked.
"Convince me first," she said firmly.
"I think I can do it," he said, "I always have to write down what I want to do each day, and what I need to buy when I come in here, and once, when I wrote my list, nails, coffee, ploughshare, mail, I forgot to put on it, "come back," and perhaps you may remember I came here that evening and stayed and stayed--I was trying to think what to do next."
"That need not worry you again, Jim," she said sweetly. "I can easily remember that, and will tell you every time."
"To "come back"?" he said. "Thank you, Camilla, and I will do it too."
She laughed.
"Having to make a list isn"t anything. Poor Mrs. Francis makes a list and then loses it, then makes a second list, and puts on it to find the first list, and then loses that; and Jim, she once made biscuits and forgot the shortening."
"I made biscuits once and forgot the flour," Jim declared proudly.
Camilla shook her head.