Maris (6 page)

"You're Lane Maitland, aren't you? I haven't had time to recognize you before. Of course I remember. Didn't I play jigsaw puzzles with you when you were getting well? You've been very kind. I don't know how you happened to be here after this long absence, but I'm really grateful."

She gave him a tired little smile, and he grinned back like an old chum.

"That's all right; I'm here and you can just count on me for anything I can do to help. I'm only too glad to get the chance to pay back some of the kindness I received. Is your mother worse that the doctor came back?"

"She was," said Maris, the trouble starting in her eyes again. "I think she is easier now. The doctor and nurse seem more cheerful. Now I must go back and see if I'm needed."

"Better lie down a bit yourself," advised Maitland. "You look rather all in."

"Perhaps I will after a little."

Then Sally eased in from the maid's room off the kitchen.

"Oh, Sally! I'm so glad you've come!" said Maris, and she almost choked with tears as she said it, her relief was so great.

"That's all right, Miss Maris. You just go lie down. I'll tend to all this," she said with a wave of her hand that included the disheveled kitchen. "I'll have a meal ready on time. Don't you worry."

"I'll wipe dishes and set the table for you, Sally," said Lane Maitland cheerfully. "It won't be the first time I've helped in this kitchen, will it?"

"Sure, you wiped dishes for me many a time, an' set tables, too. He's a good worker, Miss Maris. You run along. We'll get along fine!"

So Maris turned and went away, feeling suddenly that she must sit down quickly or lie down, or she would presently crumple up on the floor the way her mother had done that morning.

She flung herself down on her own bed for a minute, trying to get rid of that whirly feeling, and as her head sank into her pillow it seemed that all her troubles rushed over her at once. Mother sick, dear Mother! Of course, that was the worst. And the possibility that even if she should get well she would be an invalid all her life. How could the family get on without her?

For the moment her own marriage had sunk out of sight. Never once in all her bright plans had she considered the possibility of Mother out of the picture, and herself away across the ocean where she couldn't help. Now it suddenly rushed over her as an impossibility to consider any such thing.

Well, she mustn't go on so far in the future. She could dare to live but one day at a time just now, perhaps only one hour. There was no telling what an hour might bring forth.

But there was the question of those invitations, and that dress! She hoped she had settled the dress, but there was no telling. Mrs. Thorpe had a very firm chin, and when she wanted a thing, she was in the habit of getting it. Would there have to be more battling? For she was determined on one thing. She would wear no other dress for her marriage than the one her precious mother had made. Even if it were not lovely and suitable, she would wear it anyway!

Well, she had done all she could about the dress for the present at least. If the Thorpes didn't like it, they could stand it. Of course, Tilford would be angry, and she would have him to deal with next. She had seen him in a towering rage with other people two or three times, and she did not look forward to the experience. But it didn't matter, did it? Not anything mattered till Mother got well. Why did such trifling, unimportant matters have to come in and torment her now, when her heart was wrung with anxiety? And there were those invitations. What should she do about them? That all-important date that the postmark was supposed to bear was rapidly passing by and could not be recalled. There would be a terrible rumpus among the Thorpes if the day went by without their being mailed. But it was unthinkable that she should invite people to her wedding when her mother lay at death's door! They surely couldn't expect that of her!

Yet, on the other hand, if Mother should suddenly get well and the wedding go on as planned--though in her heart she felt this was not in the least likely, hardly possible--if the day had to be changed to please the Thorpes' ideas about when the invitations should go out, that would mean that Father would have another awful expense. All those costly invitations engraved over again! Oh, she couldn't do that to Father.

Well, and suppose she simply mailed them as had been planned all along, and then they all had to be recalled? Oh, it was too much of a problem for her weary mind to work out. She turned her head on her pillow and let slow tears trickle down her cheeks.

Oh, God
, she suddenly cried in her heart.
Show me what to do. Please make it very plain. I don't know how to go on. I know I haven't been living very close to You these last few months. I've done nothing to deserve help. But won't You please straighten things out and bring Mother back to us again?

In the midst of her prayer she became aware of voices, children's voices outside, the boys and little Alexa coming home from school. Alexa wasn't quite five and was only in kindergarten. Eric and Alec were in grade school. But what were they doing home at this hour? They usually took their lunch and didn't return till two o'clock. Was it a half-day holiday?

She sprang up quickly. They mustn't be allowed to make a noise and disturb Mother. Would Gwyneth be back from the store yet?

She hurried down and met the children as they were about to enter the house.

"Shhh!" she said softly. "Mother is sick. You must be very quiet! Come around this outside way to the kitchen and Sally will give you some lunch. Why are you home at this hour?"

"Lexie has a sore throat," said Eric, the ten-year-old.

"The teacher sent us home. She said we'd havta have the doctor and see if Lexie has the measles. If she has, we can't any of us come back till we see if we get it, too."

Maris's heart sank. Measles! More trouble!

"My froat is sore, an' I want my muvver!" wailed Alexa with a quivering lip.

"That's all right, darling. Sister will take care of you," said Maris, putting her arm around the little girl and drawing her close. "Come on; we'll go up to sister's room. You can get into my nice bed and have a pretty little nightie on, and some lovely orange juice to drink," coaxed Maris, trying to think how she was to manage this new complication.

"No, I don't want to go to your bed. I want to go to Muvver. I want my muvver!" Her voice had increased to a shrill roar.

Maris gathered the child up in her arms and carried her out through the garden to the hammock under a big tree and sat down with her in her arms.

"Listen, Lexie," she said soothingly, "Muvver dear had a bad fall down on the kitchen floor and she hurt herself, and we had to send for the doctor. He put her to bed until she gets all mended up. He said she must lie very still and sleep a lot, and we mustn't try to wake her up for anything for a while, so she would get all well."

The child looked up for a moment with great eyes filled with horror, and her baby lip puckered pitifully. Then she wailed again, and two tears rolled down her pink cheeks.

"I want my muvver. I'se got a sore froat!"

"But Lexie, you don't want Muvver to be sick a long, long time, do you? You want her to get well quick, don't you? You wouldn't like Muvver to be so sick she couldn't ever get up again, would you?"

The child shook her head.

"Well, then, you're going to be a good, good little girl, as brave as a soldier, and let sister take care of you and make you well, till Mother can get up again, aren't you?"

A slow, reluctant nod.

"But my froat is sore
.
Awful!
"

"Well, we'll go right upstairs and get in bed and send for our good Dr. MacPherson. He gives you nice sweet sugar pills, you know, and he'll make you well quick. Come on! Let's see how softly we can get up the stairs so we won't wake Muvver."

Little by little she coaxed the child, until she finally yielded with a weak smile and said, "Wes," she would be a good girl and not make a noise when sister took her up the stairs. At last Maris landed Lexie in her bed and began to undress the hot little body.

There was no question but Alexa had a fever, and it looked to Maris's inexperienced eyes as if there were some kind of faint rash beginning to appear. Oh, was this also to be added to the burdens? Measles and a wedding! A wedding and a quarantine sign on the door. Oh, what a mess! And what would Tilford say to it all?

Suddenly she began to laugh.

Alexa turned and stared at her in wonder.

"Vat is funny, Maris?" She tried to focus her heavy eyes on her sister who was laughing almost hysterically, though very quietly. It had to be either crying or laughing, and she preferred to laugh.

Suddenly she sobered. She must not let herself go like this. Too much depended on her just now.

"I was only thinking how funny it was to have measles and a wedding at the same time."

Alexa gave a faint little giggle.

"Can't I be a fower girl?"

"Not if you have the measles."

"Is I got measles, Maris?"

"Well, maybe. We'll have to ask Mother's nurse to come in and look."

"Has Muvver got a nurse? I wantta see her."

"I'll get her in a minute. You lie still and be a good girl."

"Aw wight! Myrtle Hayes has gotted measles. She had 'em two days. She wasn't in school. Now I got 'em, mebbe! Isn't that funny?"

"Yes, very funny!" said Maris with a bitter little grin.

"When you got measles, you get fowers an' paper dollies sent to you by the class. We sent some to Myrtle Hayes yestidday! Do you s'pose I got measles fum her, makin' her a paper dolly?"

"Oh, no. You have to be with people who have them to get them."

"Well, I was wif her two more yestiddays ago."

"Yes, that was it, likely. Now you lie still till I call the nurse."

Mrs. Mayberry was sleeping nicely and the nurse sitting by with a book. Maris almost envied her. She had no perplexities to settle. She had only to sit there and do her duty as it came to her hour by hour. Oh, of course there were responsibilities, but she was trained to meet them. And there was always the doctor at the end of the telephone to call upon in necessity. While here she was suddenly plunged from having a good time into every kind of a mix-up, things she knew nothing at all about. As if it wasn't enough to be on the eve of her marriage with all sorts of new problems to deal with, without having her mother, the mainstay of the family, taken down so desperately ill, and the baby of the house sick besides! And she had no training for such things, and no one to call upon in her extremity. She was the oldest child. Her father mustn't be more troubled than he was already, or he would break, too. And Merrick was so hotheaded he was no help at all. As for Tilford, he had made it all too evident that none of this was his problem. She couldn't consult him, though of course she would have to tell him pretty soon the latest developments. What would Tilford say to a contagious disease? Well, she would soon find out, for there he was coming up the walk, she saw as she passed the window. His car was parked out in front.

But Maris did not run down to meet him. She followed the nurse back to the sickroom and let Sally deal with the front door. One burden at once was all she could carry. Tilford would have to wait until she was free.

The nurse came in and examined the little girl. She said it looked like measles to her, but the rash wasn't coming out well. She hinted that it might even be scarlet fever.

"You know, there's quite a bit of it around," she said. "Just keep her asleep till the doctor gets here if you can."

But Alexa was restless and wanted her mother, and it was some time before even a story kept her still enough to drop off to sleep.

As soon as Maris was sure the child was sleeping soundly enough not to cry out and disturb their mother, she hurried down to Tilford. He met her with an angry frown.

"It seems to me, Maris, that you are very inconsiderate," he said as he glanced at his watch vexedly. "I have waited exactly sixteen minutes for you this time. And how long was it this morning? My time is valuable, you know. Especially so just now when I am planning to be out of the country for at least six months. Hereafter I do wish you would try to come down promptly."

Maris was very tired, and overwhelmingly worried. The tears were very near to the surface, and she needed comfort.

"I came as soon as I possibly could," she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. "You don't realize what has been going on here."

"Well, I certainly realize enough," he said coldly, sitting on a straight chair opposite the couch where she had dropped down. "I can't quite see how your family can be so inconsiderate to you at a time like this, with your marriage so close at hand."

"What do you mean?" said Maris, sitting very straight and flashing her eyes at him. "Do you think it was inconsiderate of my mother to drop unconscious on the floor while she was preparing to iron some of my pretty things for me? Do you think it was inconsiderate of my little sister to come home very sick from school, with a sore throat and probably a bad case of measles, or perhaps scarlet fever?"

"You don't mean that has happened, too?" said Tilford, looking at her accusingly as if somehow it was all her fault.

"The doctor hasn't seen her yet, but the nurse is sure it is one or the other."

"Well, for heaven's sake, Maris, have you had both of those?"

"I'm sure I don't remember," said Maris wearily. "I guess so. But anyway, that doesn't matter. The fact remains that Alexa is very sick, and I've got to go right back to her as soon as possible."

"Not at all, Maris. You must not go near her again. You know, even if you did have them when you were a child, it is quite possible to get them a second time. I've heard of cases. And it would be simply out of the question to run the risk of you being down with measles on your wedding day, you know. You must telephone for another nurse if the one you have isn't adequate for the situation. I shouldn't think measles was much anyway. She'll probably be running around in a day or two. But you must not run any risks for the wedding."