The English Orphans | Page 8

to have it
in its most aggravated form.
On the morning following the events narrated in the last chapter, Billy,
whose dreams had been disturbed by thoughts of Frank, arose early,
determined to call at Mrs. Howard's, and see if they were in want of
any thing. But his mother, who had heard rumors of the scarlet fever,
was up before him, and on descending to the kitchen, which with all
her sickness Mrs. Bender kept in perfect order, Billy found her sitting
before a blazing fire,--her feet in hot water, and her head thrown back
in a manner plainly showing that something new had taken hold of her
in good earnest. Billy was accustomed to her freaks, and not feeling at
all frightened, stepped briskly forward, saying, "Well, mother, what's
the matter now? Got a cramp in your foot, or what?"
"Oh, William," said she, "I've lived through a sight but my time has
come at last. Such a pain in my head and stomach. I do believe I've got
the scarlet fever, and you must run for the doctor quick."
"Scarlet fever!" repeated Billy, "why, you've had it once, and you can't
have it again, can you?"
"Oh, I don't know,--I never was like anybody else, and can have any
thing a dozen times. Now be spry and fetch the doctor but before you
go, hand me my snuff-box and put the canister top heapin' full of tea
into the tea-pot."

Billy obeyed, and then, knowing that the green tea would remove his
mother's ailment quite as soon as the physician, he hurried away
towards Mrs. Howard's. The sun was just rising, and its red rays looked
in at the window, through which the moonlight had shone the night
before. Beneath the window a single rose-tree was blooming, and on it
a robin was pouring out its morning song. Within the cottage there was
no sound or token of life, and thinking its inmates were asleep, Billy
paused several minutes upon the threshold, fearing that he should
disturb their slumbers. At last with a vague presentiment that all was
not right, he raised the latch and entered, but instantly started back in
astonishment at the scene before him. On the little trundlebed lay Frank,
cold and dead, and near him in the same long dreamless sleep was his
mother, while between them, with one arm thrown lovingly across her
brother's neck, and her cheek pressed against his, lay Mary--her eyelids
moist with the tears which, though sleeping she still shed. On the other
side of Frank and nestled so closely to him that her warm breath lifted
the brown curls from his brow, was Ella. But there were no tear stains
on her face, for she did not yet know how bereaved she was.
For a moment Billy stood irresolute, and then as Mary moved uneasily
in her slumbers, he advanced a step or two towards her. The noise
aroused her, and instantly remembering and comprehending the whole,
she threw herself with a bitter cry into Billy's extended arms, as if he
alone were all the protector she now had in the wide, wide world. Ere
long Ella too awoke, and the noisy outburst which followed the
knowledge of her loss, made Mary still the agony of her own heart in
order to soothe the more violent grief of her excitable sister.
There was a stir in the cradle, and with a faint cry the baby Alice awoke
and stretched her hands towards Mary who, with all a mother's care
took the child upon her lap and fed her from the milk which was still
standing in the broken pitcher. With a baby's playfulness Alice dipped
her small fingers into the milk, and shaking them in her sister's face,
laughed aloud as the white drops fell upon her hair. This was too much
for poor Mary, and folding the child closer to her bosom she sobbed
passionately.

"Oh, Allie, dear little Allie, what will you do? What shall we all do?
Mother's dead, mother's dead!"
Ella was not accustomed to see her sister thus moved, and her tears
now flowed faster while she entreated Mary to stop. "Don't do so,
Mary," she said. "Don't do so. You make me cry harder. Tell her to stop,
Billy. Tell her to stop."
But Billy's tears were flowing too, and he could only answer the little
girl by affectionately smoothing her tangled curls, which for once in
her life she had forgotten to arrange At length rising up, he said to
Mary, "Something must be done. The villagers must know of it, and I
shall have to leave you alone while I tell them."
In half an hour from that time the cottage was nearly filled with people,
some of whom came out