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Page 2
"Children come and children go, but we stay on for ever."
Trustee Day was an abiding memory only with the incurables; which meant
that twelve times a year--at the end of every month--Ward C cried
itself to sleep.
Spring could not have begun the day better. She is never the
spendthrift that summer is, but once in a while she plunges recklessly
into her treasure-store and scatters it broadcast. On this last day of
April she was prodigal with her sunshine; out countryward she garnished
every field and wood and hollow with her best. Everywhere were flowers
and pungent herby things in such abundance that even the city folk
could sense them afar off.
Little cajoling breezes scuttled around corners and down
thoroughfares, blowing good humor in and bad humor out. Birds of
passage--song-sparrows, tanagers, bluebirds, and orioles--even a pair
of cardinals--stopped wherever they could find a tree or bush from
which to pipe a friendly greeting. Yes, spring certainly could not
have begun the day better; it was as if everything had said to itself,
"We know this is a very special occasion and we must do our share in
making it fine."
So well did everything succeed that Margaret MacLean was up and out of
Saint Margaret's a full half-hour earlier than usual, her heart singing
antiphonally with the birds outside. Coatless, but capped and in her
gray uniform, she jumped the hospital steps, two at a time, and danced
the length of the street.
Now Margaret MacLean was small and slender, and there was nothing
grotesque in the dancing. It had become a natural means of expressing
the abundant life and joyousness she had felt ever since she had been
free of crutches and wheeled chairs; and an impartial stranger, had he
been passing, would have watched her with the same uncritical delight
that he might have bestowed on any wood creature had it suddenly
appeared darting along the pavement. She reached the corner just in
time to bump into the flower-seller, who was turning about like some
old tabby to settle himself and his basket.
"Oh!" she cried in dismay, for the flower-seller was wizened and
unsteady of foot, and she had sent him spinning about in a dizzy
fashion. She put out a steadying hand. "Oh . . . !" This time it was
in ecstasy; she had spied the primroses in the basket just as the
sunshine splashed over the edge of the corner building straight down
upon them. Margaret MacLean dropped to one knee and laid her cheek
against them. "The happy things--you can hear them laugh! I want
all--all I can carry." She looked up quizzically at the flower-seller.
"Now how did you ever happen to think of bringing these--to-day?"
A pair of watery old eyes twinkled, thereby becoming amazingly young in
an instant, and he wagged his head mysteriously while he raised a
significant finger. "Sure, wasn't I knowin', an' could I be afther
bringin' anythin' else? But the rest that passes--or stops--will see
naught but yellow flowers in a basket, I'm thinkin'." And the
flower-seller set to shaking his head sorrowfully.
"Perhaps not. There are the children--"
"Aye, the childher; but the most o' them be's gettin' too terrible
wise."
"I know--I know--but mine aren't. I'm going to take my children back
as many as I can carry." She stretched both hands about a mass of
stems--all they could compass. "See"--she held up a giant bunch--"so
much happiness is worth a great deal. Feel in the pocket of my apron
and you will find--gold for gold. It was the only money I had in my
purse. Keep it all, please." With a nod and a smile she left him,
dancing her way back along the still deserted street.
"'Tis the faeries' own day, afther all," chuckled the flower-seller as
he eyed the tiny gold disk in his palm; then he remembered, and called
after the diminishing figure of the nurse: "Hey, there! Mind what ye
do wi' them blossoms. They be's powerful strong magic." And he
chuckled again.
The hall-boy, shorn of uniform and dignity, was outside, polishing
brasses, when Margaret MacLean reached the hospital door. She stopped
for an interchange of grins and greetings.
"Mornin', Miss Peggie."
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