Left at Home Part 15

The two boys shook hands, and then Arthur spoke to the three little girls, who were looking as if they would like to speak. Arnold, the eldest, seemed to be half asleep over his book; so they sat down to tea. Arthur was wondering where the father and mother were. It seemed so strange altogether, and he could not help thinking that it was rather a disorderly party. All the children seemed to do very much as they liked, and yet it appeared as if their eldest sister took a great deal of trouble to make them behave properly. She seemed to be constantly putting them right without much effect. Arthur wondered whether this was what gave her face such a tired look.

"Harold, I wish you would let Clara alone. Do take tea properly. Gerald, you know you would not do that if papa were here." And Maude gave a sigh, as she saw her words had no effect.

"I do wish you would behave properly; what must Edgar's friend think of you?"

"I dare say he thinks we are something like himself," said Gerald, "don't you?"

Arthur laughed, because he did not know what else to do. And then Maude gave a faint laugh.

"What's the use of keeping on wis.h.i.+ng, Maude?" said Arnold, rousing himself. "Why can't you make them?"

"Well, how would you?" asked Maude.

"Oh, that is quite another thing," said Arnold, yawning.

"I dare say you could not do it as well as Maude," said Harold.

"No; very likely not," said Arnold, laughing, and he returned to his book.

"Well, I wish you would all make haste and finish tea," said Maude, taking out her watch, "whatever way you do it. Oh, dear, I must make haste, or I shall not be ready in time for dinner. Arnold, you must go. What will papa say if we are not ready when the bell rings?"

Arnold got up as if with an immense effort. "I dare say I shall be ready quite as soon as you are, Maudie. You always get into such a fl.u.s.ter about every thing."

When the two eldest were gone, the younger ones became still more lively.

One of the little girls was more quiet than the rest, and she seemed to think it would be nice and polite to talk to their visitor.

"Do you always have your meals by yourselves?" asked Arthur.

"All except breakfast," said Minnie. "You see, mamma hardly ever comes out of her dressing-room; she is ill, and papa is away all the day, and he only comes home to dinner at seven."

"Does he have dinner alone?"

"Oh, no; you know that was the reason Maude was in such a hurry. She and Arnold dine with papa." Then they were both silent for a little while.

Presently Arthur said, "I wonder when I shall be able to see Edgar."

Minnie hesitated, and then said, "I was just thinking about that. You see, Edgar does not know you have come; and, besides, I think he is asleep; he was just now, and I cannot go and ask Maude."

"Why not?" said Arthur.

"Oh, because dinner is going on. Papa would not like it."

"You do what your sister tells you more than the others," said Arthur, "don't you?"

"Oh, we all do sometimes," said Minnie. After a little while she spoke again:

"I don't think Maude would mind. Perhaps she forgot, and I can tell her about it afterwards. I'll tell you what we will do; we will go up to Edgar's door, and then I can go in, and you can stay outside while I see whether he is asleep, and whether I can tell him that you are here. I don't think Maude will mind. Shall we?"

"Yes," said Arthur. "I don't see why she should, because I came on purpose to see Edgar."

As soon as the other children saw Minnie and Arthur going away, there was a general cry, "Minnie, where are you going?"

"Never mind," said Minnie resolutely.

"We wanted to have 'post'. There won't be enough without you. Come now, stop," said Harold, putting his hand on the door handle.

"Oh, Harold, do let us go!" said Minnie pitifully.

"Well, tell us where you are going then?" Minnie saw that this was the only chance.

"We are going to Edgar's room, I shall be back soon, Harold."

"Yes; but we wanted Arthur Vivyan to play. Boys are twice the fun of girls."

"But, you know, he came on purpose to see Edgar; and don't you remember how very, very ill, Edgar is, Harold?" said his sister gravely.

Harold let go his grasp of the door, and Arthur and his new little friend found themselves safely outside.

"Now," said Minnie, as they stood on the landing at the top of the stairs, "you stop here, and then I will come back in a minute."

She opened the door very cautiously, and looked in for a moment; then Arthur saw her go inside and shut the door. It was several minutes before she came back.

"I told him," she said. "Oh, I hope I did not do him any harm. He was so very glad."

"Why," said Arthur, "I should think that would be a good thing."

"But he is so ill, you know. I think you had better go in now. Oh," she said, just as she was turning away, "if you think him looking very different from what he was last summer, don't you think you had better not seem surprised? I know my mother never likes people to say anything about her looks."

"Very well," said Arthur.

It was only the firelight that brightened Edgar's room, and it danced and sparkled around, and gave quite light enough for Arthur to see every thing distinctly. The room felt very warm and comfortable as he went in, and the sound of Edgar's quick, hard breathing was very plain. Arthur drew very quietly near the bedside. Little Minnie's caution was well given; for it needed an effort on his part to be quiet and composed, as he saw the change in his friend; and he had to try very hard to keep the tears from coming to his eyes. Edgar was lying so very still and quiet; his cheeks were white and sunken, and his eyes looked large, and dark, and s.h.i.+ning; but there was a much happier look in them than in the old times when they used to talk together.

"Oh, Arthur," said Edgar, trying to stretch out his hand, "I am so glad you have come. I did so pray that I might see you again."

Arthur came and sat down as near him as he could. "Of course I came when you wanted me, and my aunt said I might."

"Hold my hand, Arthur," said Edgar, "while I talk to you. You are my brother, you know."

Arthur took Edgar's thin, hot hand, and held it in his own st.u.r.dy one; and as he looked at him, he could not help it, the tears came into his eyes.

"I know what you are thinking about, Arthur," said Edgar, "and I know you are trying to seem as if you do not think me very ill; but you need not mind, I know I am, and I know I am going to be with the Lord Jesus very soon."

"Dear Edgar," said Arthur, burying his face in the bed-clothes to hide his tears, "I never knew you really were so very ill."

"Didn't you?" said Edgar. "No, I suppose not. I did not know it either, until lately, for certain. But it will be so nice in heaven, Arthur, with the Lord Jesus. I shall never be tired, or cross, or have those pains. And the Lord Jesus wants to have me there; that is so nice to think of. You know I have always had a feeling that people would as soon I was away; but I know He really wants to have me in heaven with Himself very much. It makes me love Him so much to think of that. That is one of the things Cousin Amy told me."

"Who is she? Does she live here?"

"Oh, no; she is not one of these Norths; she is one of my other uncle's daughters; and she was staying here in the autumn. She taught me more about the Lord Jesus than any one else, except you."