Phoebe Deane (29 page)

Two hours later she brought a platter of delicately poached eggs on toast to the breakfast table just as Marcia entered the room.

" Good-morning, Miranda. How did it go last night ? You evidently got in and found something to do."

Miranda set down the platter and stood with hands on her hips and face shining with morning welcome.

" I tell you, Mrs. Marcia, them prayers was all right. They worked fine. When"*l got mixed and didn't know what was right to do I just remembered them an' cast off all 'sponsibility. Anyhow, she's sleepin' an' the fever's gone."

Marcia smiled.

" I shouldn't wonder if your part was really prayer, too," she said, dreamily. "We are not all heard for our much speaking."

It was a glorious day. The sun shone in a perfect heaven without a cloud to blur it. A soft south breeze kept the air from being too warm. Miranda sang all the morning as she went about her belated work.

After dinner Marcia insisted she should go and take a nap. She obediently lay down for half an hour straight and stiff on her bright neat patchwork quilt, scarcely relaxing a muscle lest she rumple the bed. She did not close her eyes, however, but lay joyously smiling at the bland white ceiling, and resting herself by gently crackling the letter in her pocket, and smiling to think how Phoebe would look when she showed it to her.

In exactly half an hour she arose, combed her hair neatly, donned her afternoon frock and her little black silk apron that was her pride on ordinary occasions, and descended to her usual post of observation with her knitting. Naps were not in her line and she was glad hers was over.

A little later the doctor's chaise drove up to the door, and Miranda went out to see what was wanted, a great fear clutching her heart. But she was reassured by the smile on his face, and the good will in the expressions of his wife and her sister, who were riding with him.

" Say, Mirandy, I don't know but I'll take you into partnership. Where'd you learn nursing? You did what I wouldn't have dared do, but it seemed to hit the mark. I'd given her up. I've seen her slipping away for a week past, but she's taken a turn for the better now, and I believe in my soul she's going to get well. If she does it'll be you that'll get the honor."

Miranda's eyes shone with happy tears.

" You don't say, doctor," she said. " Why, I was real scared when Granny told me you said she wasn't to hev a sup o' water, but it seemed like she must be so tumble hot "

" Well, I wouldn't have dared try it myself, but I believe it did the business," said the doctor, heartily.

" Yes, you deserve great credit, Miranda," said the doctor's wife. " You do, indeed," echoed her sister, pleasantly.

"Granny ain't tole Mis' Deane I was there, hes she?" asked Miranda, to cover her embarrassment. She was not used to praise except from her own household.

" No, she hasn't told her yet, but I think I shall tell her myself by to-morrow if all goes well. Can you find time to run over to-night again ? Granny might not stay wide awake all the time. She's fagged out, and I think it's a critical time."

"Oh, I'll be there!" said Miranda, gleefully. "You couldn't keep me away."

" HoVll you get in? Same way you did last night?" asked the doctor, laughing. " Say, that's a good joke! I've laughed and laughed ever since Granny told me, at the thought of you climbing in the window and the family all sleeping calmly. Good for you, Miranda. You're made of the right stuff. Well, good-by. I'll fix it up with Mrs. Deane to-morrow so you can go in by the door."

The doctor drove on, laughing, and his wife and sister bowing and smiling. Miranda, with high head of pride and heart full of joy, went in to get supper.

Supper was just cleared away when Nathaniel came over. He talked with David in the dusk of the front stoop a few minutes and then asked diffidently if Miranda was going up to see how Miss Deane was again soon.

David, because of his love for Marcia, half understood, and calling Miranda left the two together for a moment while he went to call Marcia, who was putting Eose to bed.

" She's better," said Miranda, entering without preamble into the subject nearest their hearts, "the doctor told me so this afternoon. But don't you stop prayin' yet, fer we don't want no half-way job, an' she's powerful weak. I kinder rely on them prayers to do a lot. I got Mrs. Spafford to spell me at mine while I went up to help nurse. She opened her eyes oncet last night when I was given' her some milk, an' I tole her I had somethin' nice fer her if she'd lie still an' go to sleep an' hurry up an' git well. She kinder seemed to understand, I most think. I've got the letter all safe, an' jest ez soon ez she gits the least mite better, able to talk, I'll give it to her."

" Thank you, Miss Miranda," said Nathaniel, " and won't you take this to her? It will be better than letters for her for a while until she gets well. You needn't bother her telling anything about it now. Just give it to her. It may help her a little. Then later, if you think best, you may tell her I sent it."

He held out a single tea-rose, half blown, with delicate petals of pale saffron.

Miranda took it with awe. It was not like anything that grew in the gardens she knew.

" It looks like her," she said, reverently.

" It makes me think of her as I first saw her," he answered, in a low voice. " She wore a frock like that."

" I know," said Miranda, understandingly, " I'll give it to her, and tell her all about it when she's better."

" Thank you," said Nathaniel. Then Marcia and David entered, and Miranda went away to wonder over the rose, and prepare for her night's vigil.

CHAPTER XXII

Granny greeted Miranda with a smile as she crept in at the window that night. Phoebe, too, opened her eyes in welcome, though she made no other sign that she was awake. Her face was like sunken marble now that the fever was gone from it, and her two great eyes shone from it like lights of another world. It startled Miranda as she came and looked at her. Then at once she perceived that Phoebe's eyes had sought the rose, and a smile was hovering about her lips.

" It was sent to you," she answered the questioning eyes, putting the rose close down to the white cheek. Phoebe really smiled then faintly.

" She better have some milk now," said Granny, anxiously. " She's been asleep so long an' I didn't disturb her."

" Yes, take some milk," whispered Miranda, gently, " an' I'll tell you all 'bout the rose when you're better."

The night crept on in quiet exultation on Miranda's part. While Phoebe slept Miranda and the rose kept vigil, and Granny sank into the first restful sleep she had had since she came to nurse Phoebe. The house was quiet. There was nothing for the watcher to do much of the time but to watch. Now and then she drew the coverlet up a little higher when a fresh breeze came through the window; or again gave a drink of water, or a spoonful of milk. The candle was shaded by the water pitcher, and the frail sweet rose looked spectral in the weird light. Miranda looked at the flower, and it looked back at her. As the hours slowly passed Miranda found her lips murmuring:

"Thanks be! Thanks be!"

Suddenly she drew herself up with a new thought.

" Land sakes! That's sounds like prayin'. Wonder ef 'tis. Anyhow it's thanks-givin', an' that's what I feel. Guess it's my turn to give thanks."

The next day the doctor had a talk with Albert Deane. He told him how Miranda had crept in at the window and cared for Phoebe; and how he believed it had been Phoebe's salvation. Albert was deeply affected. He readily agreed that it would be a fine thing for Phoebe if Miranda could be got to come and help Granny care for her, now that she seemed to be on the fair road to recovery.

It was all arranged in a few minutes and Emmeline was not told until just before Miranda arrived.

" It's very queer," she said, with her nose in the air, " that I wasn't consulted. I'm sure it's my business more'n yours to look after such things, Albert Deane. An' I wouldn't uv had that sassy creature in the house fer a good deal. Hank's sister would 'a' ben a sight better, an' could a' helped me between times with Phoebe's extra work. I'm sure its bad enough havin' sickness this way in the midst o' hayin' season, an' me with all them men to feed, an' not havin' Phoebe to help. I could 'a' sent fer my own sister, when it comes to that, an' 'twould 'a' ben a sight pleasanter."

But before there was time for a protest or apology from Albert there came a knock at the door, and without waiting for ceremony Miranda walked in.

" Ev'nin', Miss Deane," she said, unconcernedly. " Everything goin' well ? I'll go right up, shall I ? " Her smiling insolence struck Emmeline dumb for the moment.

" Well, I vow! " declared Emmeline. " Will you listen to the impudence. ' Will I go right up ?' es ef she was the Queen o' Sheby er the doctor himself."

But Miranda was marching serenely upstairs and if she heard she paid no heed.

" She doesn't mean any harm, Emmeline!" pleaded Albert. " She's jest Phoebe's friend, so don't you mind. It'll relieve you a lot, and if you want Hank's sister to come over too I guess we can manage it."

Thus was Miranda domiciled in Phoebe's room for a short space, much to the comfort of Phoebe and the satisfaction of Miranda.

Emineline was only half mollified when she came upstairs to look around and " give that Griscom girl a settin' down," as she expressed it. But she who attempted to " sit" on Miranda usually arose unexpectedly.

" Where'd that come from ? " was Bmmeline's first question, as she pointed at the unoffending rose.

" Mirandy brought it," said Granny, proud of her colleague. " H'm! " said Emmeline, with a sniff. " It ain't healthy to hev plants round in a bedroom I've heard. D' you raise that kind down to Spaffords ? "

" We ain't got just to say a-plenty yet," said Miranda, cheerfully, " but we might hev sometime. Would yeh like a slip?"

" No, thank yeh," said Emmeline, dryly, " I never had time to waste good daylight fussin' over weeds. I s'pose Mis' Spafford don't do much else."

" Oh, 'casionally!" answered Miranda, undisturbed. " This spring she put up a hundred glasses o' blueberry jelly, made peach preserves, spiced pears, an' crab-apple jam, crocheted a white bed-spread fer the spare bed, an' three antimacassars fer her Aunt Hortense's best parlor chairs, did up the second story curtains, tucked a muslin slip fer Rose, sewed carpet rags enough fer a whole strip in Shorty Briscutt's new rag carpet, made a set o' shirts fer Mr. Spafford, knit nine pair o' stocking', spun the winter's yarn, cut out an' made Rose's flannel petticoats, an' went to missionary meetin', but o' course that ain't much, nothin' to what you'd do."

(Oh Miranda, Miranda! of the short prayers and the long tongue! telling all that off with a straight face to the sour-faced woman, Emmeline!)

" She must be a smart woman!" said Granny, much impressed.

" She is," said Miranda, glibly, " but here all the time I was fergettin' we'd ought not to talk. We'll bring that fever up. Is there anything special yeh wanted me to look after t'night, Mis' Deane? 'Cause ef there is jest don' hesitate to say so. I'm here to work an' not to play."

And before she knew it, Emmeline found herself disarmed and walking meekly down stairs without having said any of the things she had meant to say.

From that time forth Phoebe grew steadily better, though she came near to having a serious set-back the day Miranda went down to the village on an errand and Emmeline attempted to " clean up " in her absence, finishing the operation by pitching out the tea-rose into the yard below the window.

" I never see such a fuss," complained Emmeline to Miranda, who stood over Phoebe and felt her fluttering pulse, " all about a dead weed. I declare I can't understand folks gettin' 'tached to trash."

Emmeline was somewhat anxious at the upset state of the patient, who was yet too weak to talk much, but who had roused herself to protest vigorously as the rose was hurled through the window, and then could not keep back the disappointed tears.

But Miranda, mindful of the weak state of her patient, and wishing to mollify Emmeline as much as possible, tried to pour oil on the troubled waters.

"Never mind, Mis' Deane, no harm done. Phoebe jest wanted to keep them leaves fer her han'kerchers, they smell real nice. I'll pick 'em up, Phoebe. They won't be hurt a mite. They're right on the green grass."

Miranda stole down and picked up the leaves tenderly, washing them at the spring, and brought them back to Phoebe. Emmeline had gone off sniffing with her chin in the air.

" I was silly to cry," murmured Phoebe, trying feebly to dry her tears, "but I loved that sweet rose. I wanted to keep it just as it was in a box. You haven't told me about it yet, Miranda, how did she come to send it?"

"It ain't hurt a mite, Phoebe, only Jest three leaves come off. I'll lay it together in a box fer yeh. Now lemme put my bonnet off, an' you lay quiet an' shet your eyes while I tell you 'bout that rose. First, though, you must take your milk."

" It wan't her at all that sent you that rose, Phoebe Deane. You s'picioned 'twas Mrs. Marcia, didn't you? But 'twan't 't all. It was a man "

" Oh, Miranda!" The words came in a moan of pain from the bed, " Not—not—Miranda, you would never have brought it if Hiram Green "