A Big Temptation Part 5

The boys s.h.i.+vered as Mary Jane, lifting up the tray, significantly nodded.

It was quite an hour after. Mary Jane, loyal to the core, had kept her ailing mistress in perfect ignorance of the terrible calamity, and the little boys still crowded round the kitchen fire waiting.

Suddenly every head was raised. "That's Peter's trot; don't you hear?

Father's coming home!"

Each of the boys stood up. Who was to go out to meet the gig and tell the dreadful news to Doctor John?

"Perhaps I ought to do it!" said Mark, in a strangled voice. "I started the train, y' know! So I'll take all the blame on myself!"

Somehow the other boys thought poor Mark, for all his shock of red hair, looked exactly like one of the brave knights of old setting forth to battle. Old Peter, the doctor's horse, eager for his stable comforts and shelter, brought the gig round in fine style, and Doctor John alighted quickly, with the upward glance at Mother's window which he never forgot.

"Why, sonny," he began cheerily, then halted as, with a tweak at his Father's sleeve, Mark beckoned him indoors. "Is there anything the matter with Mother? Quick; speak, boy!" The doctor's voice was sharp with fear. But Mark could not speak, and Doctor John, with a heart of lead, followed the boy into the house.

"In there, Father! It's Clary, and it's all my fault!" Mark's voice had come back, but it was a mere whisper, and he pointed to the close-shut door.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Doctor John was on his knees beside the bed_]

Turning the door-handle quickly, Doctor John nearly fell backwards. Over the bed, on which lay a little figure, bent the brother to whom he had not spoken for three years, with his ear laid close to the little heart, listening to its fluttering beats, and one hand raised warningly at the sound of the opening door. The next moment the wonder-shock had pa.s.sed.

Without a word Doctor John was on his knees beside the bed, and Doctor George, glancing up, saw that it was Clary's Father who had entered.

Then he stood up straight, and would have retreated hastily, but his forefinger was tight in the clutch of a weak, small hand. Doctor George was chained to the spot; he dared not move.

"She opened her eyes once, and gripped my finger like that!" he whispered awkwardly.

The Father did not speak, nor even look away from the white, still face.

But, stretching across the bed, he laid a detaining hand on his brother's coat-sleeve.

It was quite late in the afternoon when the two doctors came out into the hall. The boys crept to the half-open kitchen door to listen eagerly.

"Thank G.o.d, and thank you, George, she will live!"

It was a strained harsh voice, but it was Father's, and the boys all pressed forward.

Then they hastily retreated, for, while the two doctors stood side by side, Father's head was bent on Uncle George's shoulder and their hands were clasped hard.

"They must be making it up!" whispered Oliver to his awestruck brothers.

And it was so. The breach of years was healed in a single afternoon. The brothers were once again friends. Whatever their quarrel had been--and neither the children of the Tile House nor the other Carews ever knew what it was about--it fled away like a morning mist in the face of a great peril, for death had come very close to little Clary that rainy Sat.u.r.day.

It was many weeks before she left her bed, but when her own birthday came round Father carried her, covered with shawls, in to tea, and Clary could not believe her blue eyes.

On the table was a huge frosted white cake, with flags flying and "CLARE" in great letters upon it, while Mother, who had grown pounds better lately, smiled behind the army of cups and saucers.

But wonder of wonders, round and round the table, the guests were all Carews!

"'A motley crew' we are!" cheerfully announced Doctor George, and all the children radiantly clapped their hands at his joke. Even the White House baby, which had been carried to the feast, gurgled and crowed loudly on its Mother's lap.

And when they all pressed forward with their birthday gifts and to wish Clary many happy returns of the day, Mark, his ears as red as his hair, whispered under his breath: "I was just awf'lly sorry, Clary! An' I'll never, never forget that little girls and women are different from us rough boys!"

And Mark never will; nor will any of the Carew boys.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Kurus: The King of the Cannibal Islands.

By

Maggie Browne.

It certainly was the very ugliest doll you ever saw. It hadn't a bit of wax about it. It was a rag doll, a brown rag doll with black woolly hair, beads for eyes, and--horror of horrors--a ring through its nose!

Then its clothes--no pretty pink frock and clean pinafore, no clothes to take off and on--it had only a black fur rug round its waist.

Mollie was nearly in tears as she stared at it, and Geoffrey's cheeks were very red.

It had come in a most promising cardboard box, wrapped up in the cleanest of tissue-paper; and when Mollie opened the parcel she had felt sure that the doll would have pink cheeks, blue eyes, and lovely golden hair--and then to find such a thing!

"It is too bad of Uncle Percy," said Mollie; "it is almost unkind."

"I think it is more 'curous' than pretty," said Geoffrey solemnly; "I should call it 'Kurus.'" He had been trying for several minutes to think of something to say to comfort Mollie.

"But I wanted to call it Evelina," said Molly; "I can't call that thing Evelina. Why, I can't even show it to Bessie."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Geoffrey began to dig the hole._]

Now, Bessie was the little girl next door, Mollie's own well-beloved playmate.

"I don't think I should show it to anyone," said Geoffrey, and then he began to think.

Mollie was thinking too.

"Mary Selina Trewin," said Geoffrey solemnly.

Mollie jumped. When her Mother called her Mary Selina she knew something serious was coming.

"Mary Selina Trewin," said Geoffrey, "who has seen that doll?--n.o.body.

Who saw the postman bring it?--n.o.body. Who knows it is here?--n.o.body."

"What are you talking about?" said Mollie, much puzzled.

"Mary Selina Trewin," said Geoffrey, "who shall see it? Who shall know it is here?--Why, n.o.body. We will get rid of that doll; we will hide it." And then he whispered mysteriously: "We will bury it this very minute. Come along." And Mollie went, just pus.h.i.+ng the doll into the box with all the papers, and hiding it under her pinafore.

They reached the garden without being seen, and Geoffrey began to dig the hole.