Kitty Trenire Part 35

She saved Dan's life--in that fire."

The poor invalid looked up with a gleam of pleasure in her eyes.

"Did she? I am--very glad; but it--it did not excuse--the other.

That is--beyond forgiveness."

"Oh no!" cried Kitty warmly, "nothing is that. It is all forgiven long ago, and we will never think of it again."

Aunt Pike's hand was almost helpless, but Kitty felt it press hers ever so slightly, and stooping down she laid her fresh warm cheek against her aunt's cold one. "You must make haste and get well," she said affectionately, "and then we shall all be happy again."

"It-doesn't matter. No one cares," gasped the poor invalid, tears of weakness creeping out from between her lids.

"Oh, you mustn't say that," cried Kitty st.u.r.dily. "You must get well for all our sakes. Anna cares, and I care very much. We all care, more than we thought we did till we knew you were ill."

"Anna," whispered the invalid, "is she--all--right?"

"Yes, Tony has soothed her to sleep, and is sitting by her, and I am going to sit by you while you go to sleep. Dr. Yearsley says you mustn't talk any more now," and Kitty, seated in a chair by her aunt's bedside, held her helpless hand lovingly until she had fallen into the easiest sleep she had had yet. By-and-by the nurse came back, and Kitty was free to move.

"I think I must go and talk to f.a.n.n.y now," she thought, and she made her way to the kitchen, thinking very soberly the while.

"f.a.n.n.y," she said, "you and I have to steer this s.h.i.+p between us, and for the honour of the s.h.i.+p we must do it as well as ever we can.

I--I am afraid I am not very much good, but I am going to try hard; and I think we shall be able to manage it between us, don't you?" wistfully.

"Of course having strangers in the house makes it more difficult; but we will do our best, won't we?"

"That we will, Miss Kitty," said f.a.n.n.y heartily, "and between us all we ought to be able to do things fitty."

The strangers, Dr. Yearsley and Mrs. Pike's nurse, made housekeeping a more serious matter certainly, and illness complicated things; but Aunt Pike's reign, though unpleasant in many ways, had made others easier for Kitty. The house was in good order, rules had been made and enforced.

f.a.n.n.y and Grace had learned much, and profited a good deal by the training, and, best of all, all worked together with a will to make things go smoothly.

There was hope and good news to cheer them too. Aunt Pike grew daily better; by very, very slow degrees, it is true, but still there were degrees. Good news came from their traveller too--news of restored health, good spirits, and, presently, a longing to be at home and at work again.

And then, so quickly did the busy days fly, they had only a very few left to count to the return of the two absent ones, for Dr. Trenire and Dan were to meet and travel home together. Then the last day came, and the last hour, and then--Kitty found herself once more with her father's arms about her.

"Why, father," she cried, standing back and studying carefully his cheerful, sunburnt face, and his look of health and strength, "you are more like the old father than you have been for ever so long."

Dr. Trenire burst into a roar of hearty laughter. "Well," he cried, "after my spending three months in trying to renew my youth, I do think you might have called me a 'young father.' Never mind, Kitty, I feel young, which is more than you do, I expect, dear, with all the cares you have had on your shoulders lately. I suppose you have left Miss Pidsley finally," with a smile, "and I have to pay her a term's fees for nothing?"

Kitty looked a little ashamed of herself as she smiled ruefully.

"Yes. I don't seem able to stay at any school more than one term, do I?

I think you had better give up trying, father, and keep me home altogether now."

"I think I had," said her father seriously. "I think I can't try again to get on without you, dear--even," quizzically, "if there isn't always boiling water when Jabez gets his head knocked."

CHAPTER XXI.

THE LAST.

Aunt Pike grew slowly and gradually stronger, and in time was able to be dressed, and could sit up in her chair. But she knew, and the doctors knew, that she would never again be the same strong, active woman that she was before. The doctors had hopes that in time she would be able to walk again, and take up some of her old ways and duties; but she herself was not so hopeful, and with the prospect before her of a long spell of invalidism, she insisted on leaving Dr. Trenire's home for one of her own.

The doctor and all protested warmly, but Aunt Pike was determined.

"Kitty can look after the house now better than she could," she said, "and I shall be glad of the rest and quiet. I shall not leave Gorlay.

I want to be near you all, so that if Kitty wants any advice I shall be at hand to give it."

So, seeing that her heart was set upon it, and feeling that the quieter, less busy home would be better for her, Dr. Trenire gave in, and they all set to work to find a house to suit her. But here they found a task which taxed all their time and patience. It had to be a small house, sheltered yet sunny, of a moderate rent, but in a good position; it must have, as well as a sitting-room, a room on the ground floor that Mrs.

Pike could turn into a bedroom, and it must have a garden with no steps--a rarity in hilly Gorlay.

There were not very many houses in Gorlay, and very few to let; certainly few with all, or even half, of the advantages Mrs. Pike demanded; and at last in despair the doctor had to prevail on an old friend and patient of his own to move from his house and give it up to the invalid, which, marvellous to tell, he did, and, even more marvellous, the house pleased Aunt Pike immensely. The garden was made to suit her by removing all the steps and replacing them with sloping, winding paths and various other cunning devices; and the doctor saw that everything that could add to her comfort was done for her. Then came the great excitement of furnis.h.i.+ng the house and stocking the garden.

But before all this had happened, Anna had provided them with a great and glad surprise, though at the same time a painful one; for the only wish of all concerned was that the past should lie buried, and the stupid, regrettable incident that had caused so much sorrow should be forgotten.

They were all seated at tea one day--the children and Dr. Trenire around the table, and Aunt Pike in her big chair near the window--when suddenly the door was burst open, and Anna, whose absence had set them all wondering, walked in.

"I have done it!" she cried excitedly. "I have told them all--Lady Kitson and Miss Richards and Miss Matilda--and--and now," sobbing hysterically with nervous excitement, "I want to go away from Gorlay.

I can't stay here. I want to get away from every one until--until they have forgotten. I'd like to go to Kitty's school. May I, mother?"

"Told all what?" asked Mrs. Pike eagerly, ignoring all of Anna's outcry but that.

"Told them all about that--that evening, and me and Lettice. I wanted to try to forget it, and I couldn't until I had told them all."

"O Anna, I wish you hadn't," cried Kitty, greatly distressed lest the mention of the old trouble should be too agitating for her aunt.

But, to her surprise, Mrs. Pike looked up with such pleasure in her eyes as had not been seen in them for a very long time.

"Have you really, Anna?" she cried gladly. "Oh, I am so thankful, child. That will do me more good than anything," and she drew Anna down to her and kissed her very tenderly. "Yes, dear," with an understanding of Anna's feelings such as she had never shown before, "you shall go away to school for a time. You shall go to Miss Pidsley's next term, if you like. I am sure it is the best plan."

So Anna went away to school, and Aunt Pike moved into her new home in time to receive her on her return for the Christmas holidays.

A nurse-companion was engaged to live with Mrs. Pike and take care of her; but never a day pa.s.sed but what Kitty went to sit with her, to tell her the news or ask her advice. The others went frequently too--Tony regularly, and Dan daily when he was at home. Betty went sometimes, but not so gladly, for she never quite got over the fright of that dreadful day, and a terrible lurking dread that she might accidentally shock her aunt again, and once more hear that strange, far-away voice, and see her falling, falling. But Kitty never failed; and Kitty was, perhaps, the best beloved of them all by the aunt who had tried, and been so tried by, them.

"You see, Kitty was the only one who willingly kissed me and called me 'dear,'" the poor invalid confessed one day to the doctor as they sat together in the firelight talking over many things--"the only one since Michael died; and cold, reserved folk such as I remember these things."

"She has a warm heart has my Kitty," said the doctor softly, "and a generous one;" then, fearing as usual the effect of any emotion on the invalid, "She told me that if I came here I was to look about me and see if she had left her gloves about. She thinks she lost one on the way here, but may have dropped the other in the house, as she is almost certain she had one with her. It doesn't much matter, though; they were very full of holes, oddly enough," with a smile.

Aunt Pike's mouth twitched a little at the corners as she opened her work-basket and took out two rather shabby gloves. "One was under the table; some one picked up the other in the garden. They are not holey now; I have mended them. But I expect Kitty would never find it out if you did not tell her."

"A year or two ago she would not have," said her father, as he took the gloves and put them in his pocket, "but I think she would now."

"She has changed," said Aunt Pike gently. "We all have."

"Yes, she has changed--in some respects; in others I hope she never may."

"I think you need not fear that, John," said Aunt Pike sympathetically.

Silence fell on them both for a few moments, then Mrs. Pike spoke again.

"John, will you be sure to tell Kitty to come here to-morrow, and Dan and all of them in fact, to welcome Anna home for the Christmas holidays? I have a surprise in store for them too, but you mustn't breathe a word of it. Pamela is coming too, to spend part of her holidays with us. I thought she would do Anna good. Then perhaps you would like to have her with you for the rest of the time. We mustn't forget that she was Kitty's friend first. But don't you breathe a word of this to Kitty."

"Very well," said the doctor; then, with a pretended sigh, he added, "I am thankful, though, that my Christmas puddings and things are already made, for I foresee there will be nothing more done now.

You wicked woman, to plot so against my peace and comfort."

But Aunt Pike did not look repentant, she only chuckled.