Nan stole her hat, and left a note on Daisy’s pincushion, saying she had taken the boys to drive, and all would be out of the way till after tea. Then she hurried back and found her patients much better, the one for work, the other for rest. In they got, and, putting Rob on the back seat with his leg up drove away, looking as gay and care-free as if nothing had happened.
Dr Morrison made light of the affair, but told Nan she had done right; and as the much-relieved lads went downstairs, he added in a whisper: “Send the dog off for a while, and keep your eye on the boy. Don’t let him know it, and report to me if anything seems wrong. One never knows in these cases. No harm to be careful.”
Nan nodded, and feeling much relieved now that the responsibility was off her shoulders, took the lads to Dr Watkins, who promised to come out later and examine Don. A merry tea at Nan’s house, which was kept open for her all summer, did them good, and by the time they got home in the cool of the evening no sign of the panic remained but Ted’s heavy eyes, and a slight limp when Rob walked. As the guests were still chattering on the front piazza they retired to the back, and Ted soothed his remorseful soul by swinging Rob in the hammock, while Nan told stories till the dog man arrived.
He said Don was a little under the weather, but no more mad than the grey kitten that purred round his legs while the examination went on.
“He wants his master, and feels the heat. Fed too well, perhaps. I’ll keep him a few weeks and send him home all right,” said Dr. Watkins, as Don laid his great head in his hand, and kept his intelligent eyes on his face, evidently feeling that this man understood his trials, and knew what to do for him.
So Don departed without a murmur, and our three conspirators took counsel together how to spare the family all anxiety, and give Rob the rest his leg demanded. Fortunately, he always spent many hours in his little study, so he could lie on the sofa with a book in his hand as long as he liked, without exciting any remark. Being of a quiet temperament, he did not worry himself or Nan with useless fears, but believed what was told him, and dismissing all dark possibilities, went cheerfully on his way, soon recovering from the shock of what he called “our scare.”
But excitable Ted was harder to manage, and it took all Nan’s wit and wisdom to keep him from betraying the secret; for it was best to say nothing and spare all discussion of the subject for Rob’s sake. Ted’s remorse preyed upon him, and having no “Mum” to confide in, he was very miserable. By day he devoted himself to Rob, waiting on him, talking to him, gazing anxiously at him, and worrying the good fellow very much; though he wouldn’t own it, since Ted found comfort in it. But at night, when all was quiet, Ted’s lively imagination and heavy heart got the better of him, and kept him awake, or set him walking in his sleep. Nan had her eye on him, and more than once administered a little dose to give him a rest, read to him, scolded him, and when she caught him haunting the house in the watches of the night, threatened to lock him up if he did not stay in his bed.
This wore off after a while; but a change came over the freakish boy, and everyone observed it, even before his mother returned to ask what they had done to quench the Lion’s spirits. He was gay, but not so heedless; and often when the old wilfulness beset him, he would check it sharply, look at Rob, and give up, or stalk away to have his sulk out alone. He no longer made fun of his brother’s old-fashioned ways and bookish tastes, but treated him with a new and very marked respect, which touched and pleased modest Rob, and much amazed all observers. It seemed as if he felt that he owed him reparation for the foolish act that might have cost him his life; and love being stronger than will, Ted forgot his pride, and paid his debt like an honest boy.
“I don’t understand it,” said Mrs Jo, after a week of home life, much impressed by the good behaviour of her younger son. “Ted is such a saint, I’m afraid we are going to lose him. Is it Meg’s sweet influence, or Daisy’s fine cooking, or the pellets I catch Nan giving him on the sly? Some witchcraft has been at work during my absence, and this will-o’-the-wisp is so amiable, quiet, and obedient, I don’t know him.”
“He is growing up, heart’s-dearest, and being a precocious plant, he begins to bloom early. I also see a change in my Robchen. He is more manly and serious than ever, and is seldom far from me, as if his love for the old papa was growing with his growth. Our boys will often surprise us in this way, Jo, and we can only rejoice over them and leave them to become what Gott pleases.”
As the Professor spoke, his eyes rested proudly on the brothers, who came walking up the steps together, Ted’s arm over Rob’s shoulder as he listened attentively to some geological remarks Rob was making on a stone he held. Usually, Ted made fun of such tastes, and loved to lay boulders in the student’s path, put brickbats under his pillow, gravel in his shoes, or send parcels of dirt by express to “Prof. R. M. Bhaer”. Lately, he had treated Rob’s hobbies respectfully, and had begun to appreciate the good qualities of this quiet brother whom he had always loved but rather undervalued, till his courage under fire won Ted’s admiration, and made it impossible to forget a fault, the consequences of which might have been so terrible. The leg was still lame, though doing well, and Ted was always offering an arm as support, gazing anxiously at his brother, and trying to guess his wants; for regret was still keen in Ted’s soul, and Rob’s forgiveness only made it deeper. A fortunate slip on the stairs gave Rob an excuse for limping, and no one but Nan and Ted saw the wound; so the secret was safe up to this time.
“We are talking about you, my lads. Come in and tell us what good fairy has been at work while we were gone. Or is it because absence sharpens our eyes, that we find such pleasant changes when we come back?” said Mrs Jo, patting the sofa on either side, while the Professor forgot his piles of letters to admire the pleasing prospect of his wife in a bower of arms, as the boys sat down beside her, smiling affectionately, but feeling a little guilty; for till now “Mum” and “Vater” knew every event in their boyish lives.
“Oh, it’s only because Bobby and I have been alone so much; we are sort of twins. I stir him up a bit, and he steadies me a great deal. You and father do the same, you know. Nice plan. I like it” and Ted felt that he had settled the matter capitally.
“Mother won’t thank you for comparing yourself to her, Ted. I’m flattered at being like father in any way. I try to be,” answered Rob, as they laughed at Ted’s compliment.
“I do thank him, for it’s true; and if you, Robin, do half as much for your brother as Papa has for me, your life won’t be a failure,” said Mrs Jo heartily. “I’m very glad to see you helping one another. It’s the right way, and we can’t begin too soon to try to understand the needs, virtues, and failings of those nearest us. Love should not make us blind to faults, nor familiarity make us too ready to blame the shortcomings we see. So work away, my sonnies, and give us more surprises of this sort as often as you like.”
“The liebe Mutter has said all. I too am well pleased at the friendly brother-warmth I find. It is good for everyone; long may it last!” and Professor Bhaer nodded at the boys, who looked gratified, but rather at a loss how to respond to these flattering remarks.
Rob wisely kept silent, fearing to say too much; but Ted burst out, finding it impossible to help telling something:
“The fact is I’ve been finding out what a brave good chap Bobby is, and I’m trying to make up for all the bother I’ve been to him. I knew he was awfully wise, but I thought him rather soft, because he liked books better than larks, and was always fussing about his conscience. But I begin to see that it isn’t the fellows who talk the loudest and show off best that are the manliest. No, sir! quiet old Bob is a hero and a trump, and I’m proud of him; so would you be if you knew all about it.”
Here a look from Rob brought Ted up with a round turn; he stopped short, grew red, and clapped his hand on his mouth in dismay.
“Well, are we not to ‘know all about it’?” asked Mrs Jo quickly; for her sharp eye saw signs of danger and her maternal heart felt
that something had come between her and her sons. “Boys,” she went on solemnly, “I suspect that the change we talk about is not altogether the effect of growing up, as we say. It strikes me that Ted has been in mischief and Rob has got him out of some scrape; hence the lovely mood of my bad boy and the sober one of my conscientious son, who never hides anything from his mother.”
Rob was as red as Ted now, but after a moment’s hesitation he looked up and answered with an air of relief:
“Yes, mother, that’s it; but it’s all over and no harm done, and I think we’d better let it be, for a while at least. I did feel guilty to keep anything from you, but now you know so much I shall not worry and you needn’t either. Ted’s sorry, I don’t mind, and it has done us both good.”
Mrs Jo looked at Ted, who winked hard but bore the look like a man; then she turned to Rob, who smiled at her so cheerfully that she felt reassured; but something in his face struck her, and she saw what it was that made him seem older, graver, yet more lovable than ever. It was the look pain of mind, as well as body, brings, and the patience of a sweet submission to some inevitable trial. Like a flash she guessed that some danger had been near her boy, and the glances she had caught between the two lads and Nan confirmed her fears.
“Rob, dear, you have been ill, hurt, or seriously troubled by Ted? Tell me at once; I will not have any secrets now. Boys sometimes suffer all their lives from neglected accidents or carelessness. Fritz, make them speak out!”
Mr Bhaer put down his papers and came to stand before them, saying in a tone that quieted Mrs Jo, and gave the boys courage:
“My sons, give us the truth. We can bear it; do not hold it back to spare us. Ted knows we forgive much because we love him, so be frank, all two.”
Ted instantly dived among the sofa pillows and kept there, with only a pair of scarlet ears visible, while Rob in a few words told the little story, truthfully, but as gently as he could, hastening to add the comfortable assurance that Don was not mad, the wound nearly well, and no danger would ever come of it.
But Mrs Jo grew so pale he had to put his arms about her, and his father turned and walked away, exclaiming: “Ach Himmel!” in a tone of such mingled pain, relief, and gratitude, that Ted pulled an extra pillow over his head to smother the sound. They were all right in a minute; but such news is always a shock, even if the peril is past, and Mrs Jo hugged her boy close till his father came and took him away, saying with a strong shake of both hands and a quiver in his voice:
“To be in danger of one’s life tries a man’s mettle, and you bear it well; but I cannot spare my good boy yet; thank Gott, we keep him safe!”
A smothered sound, between a choke and a groan, came from under the pillows, and the writhing of Ted’s long legs so plainly expressed despair that his mother relented towards him, and burrowing till she found a tousled yellow head, pulled it out and smoothed it, exclaiming with an irrepressible laugh, though her cheeks were wet with tears:
“Come and be forgiven, poor sinner! I know you have suffered enough, and I won’t say a word; only if harm had come to Rob you would have made me more miserable than yourself. Oh, Teddy, Teddy, do try to cure that wilful spirit of yours before it is too late!”
“Oh, Mum, I do try! I never can forget this—I hope it’s cured me; if it hasn’t, I am afraid I ain’t worth saving,” answered Ted, pulling his own hair as the only way of expressing his deep remorse.
“Yes, you are, my dear; I felt just so at fifteen when Amy was nearly drowned, and Marmee helped me as I’ll help you. Come to me, Teddy, when the evil one gets hold of you, and together we’ll rout him. Ah, me! I’ve had many a tussle with that old Apollyon, and often got worsted, but not always. Come under my shield, and we’ll fight till we win.”
No one spoke for a minute as Ted and his mother laughed and cried in one handkerchief, and Rob stood with his father’s arm round him so happy that all was told and forgiven, though never to be forgotten; for such experiences do one good, and knit hearts that love more closely together.
Presently Ted rose straight up and going to his father, said bravely and humbly:
“I ought to be punished. Please do it; but first say you forgive me, as Rob does.”
“Always that, mein Sohn, seventy times seven, if needs be, else I am not worthy the name you give me. The punishment has come; I can give no greater. Let it not be in vain. It will not with the help of the mother and the All Father. Room here for both, always!”
The good Professor opened his arms and embraced his boys like a true German, not ashamed to express by gesture or by word the fatherly emotions an American would have compressed into a slap on the shoulder and a brief “All right.”
Mrs Jo sat and enjoyed the prospect like a romantic soul as she was, and then they had a quiet talk together, saying freely all that was in their hearts, and finding much comfort in the confidence which comes when love casts out fear. It was agreed that nothing be said except to Nan, who was to be thanked and rewarded for her courage, discretion, and fidelity.
“I always knew that girl had the making of a fine woman in her, and this proves it. No panics and shrieks and faintings and fuss, but calm sense and energetic skill. Dear child, what can I give or do to show my gratitude?” said Mrs Jo enthusiastically.
“Make Tom clear out and leave her in peace,” suggested Ted, almost himself again, though a pensive haze still partially obscured his native gaiety.
“Yes, do! he frets her like a mosquito. She forbade him to come out here while she stayed, and packed him off with Demi. I like old Tom, but he is a regular noodle about Nan,” added Rob, as he went away to help his father with the accumulated letters.
“I’ll do it!” said Mrs Jo decidedly. “That girl’s career shall not be hampered by a foolish boy’s fancy. In a moment of weariness she may give in, and then it’s all over. Wiser women have done so and regretted it all their lives. Nan shall earn her place first, and prove that she can fill it; then she may marry if she likes, and can find a man worthy of her.”
But Mrs Jo’s help was not needed; for love and gratitude can work miracles, and when youth, beauty, accident, and photography are added, success is sure; as was proved in the case of the unsuspecting but too susceptible Thomas.
CHAPTER 8
JOSIE PLAYS MERMAID
WHILE THE young Bhaers were having serious experiences at home, Josie was enjoying herself immensely at Rocky Nook; for the Laurences knew how to make summer idleness both charming and wholesome. Bess was very fond of her little cousin; Mrs Amy felt that whether her niece was an actress or not she must be a gentlewoman, and gave her the social training which marks the well-bred woman everywhere; while Uncle Laurie was never happier than when rowing, riding, playing, or lounging with two gay girls beside him. Josie bloomed like a wild flower in this free life, Bess grew rosy, brisk, and merry, and both were great favourites with the neighbours, whose villas were by the shore or perched on the cliffs along the pretty bay.
One crumpled rose-leaf disturbed Josie’s peace, one baffled wish filled her with a longing which became a mania, and kept her as restless and watchful as a detective with a case to “work up”. Miss Cameron, the great actress, had hired one of the villas and retired thither to rest and “create” a new part for next season. She saw no one but a friend or two, had a private beach, and was invisible except during her daily drive, or when the opera-glasses of curious gazers were fixed on a blue figure disporting itself in the sea. The Laurences knew her, but respected her privacy, and after a call left her in peace till she expressed a wish for society—a courtesy which she remembered and repaid later, as we shall see.
But Josie was like a thirsty fly buzzing about a sealed honey-pot, for this nearness to her idol was both delightful and maddening. She pined to see, hear, talk with, and study this great and happy woman who could thrill thousands by her art, and win friends by her virtue, benevolence, and beauty. This was the sort of actress the girl meant to be, and few could object if the gift wa
s really hers; for the stage needs just such women to purify and elevate the profession which should teach as well as amuse. If kindly Miss Cameron had known what passionate love and longing burned in the bosom of the little girl whom she idly observed skipping over the rocks, splashing about the beach, or galloping past her gate on a Shetland pony, she would have made her happy by a look or a word. But being tired with her winter’s work and busy with her new part, the lady took no more notice of this young neighbour than of the sea-gulls in the bay or the daisies dancing in the fields. Nosegays left on her doorstep, serenades under her garden-wall, and the fixed stare of admiring eyes were such familiar things that she scarcely minded them; and Josie grew desperate when all her little attempts failed.
“I might climb that pine-tree and tumble off on her piazza roof, or get Sheltie to throw me just at her gate and be taken in fainting. It’s no use to try to drown myself when she is bathing. I can’t sink, and she’d only send a man to pull me out. What can I do? I will see her and tell her my hopes and make her say I can act some day. Mamma would believe her; and if—oh, if she only would let me study with her, what perfect joy that would be!”
Josie made these remarks one afternoon as she and Bess prepared for a swim, a fishing party having prevented their morning bathe.
“You must bide your time, dear, and not be so impatient. Papa promised to give you a chance before the season is over, and he always manages things nicely. That will be better than any queer prank of yours,” answered Bess, tying her pretty hair in a white net to match her suit, while Josie made a little lobster of herself in scarlet.
“I hate to wait; but I suppose I must. Hope she will bathe this afternoon, though it is low tide. She told Uncle she should have to go in then because in the morning people stared so and went on her beach. Come and have a good dive from the big rock. No one round but nurses and babies, so we can romp and splash as much as we like.”