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Page 46
She looked at him, puzzled. "Oh, you know! She has written you?"
"Not what she has written you, I judge. One could hardly term our
communication 'the best thing that has happened in years.'" And again
a smile twitched at the corners of the President's mouth.
"Then listen to this." Margaret MacLean read the letter eagerly:
"DEAE MARGARET MACLEAN,--There is a home standing on a hilltop--an
hour's ride from the city. It belongs to a lonely old woman who finds
that it is too large and too lonely for her to live in, and too full of
haunting memories to be left empty. Therefore she wants to fill it
with incurable children, and she would like to begin with the discarded
ward of Saint Margaret's."
"That's a miserable way to speak of a lot of children," muttered the
Disagreeable Trustee; but no one paid any attention, and Margaret
MacLean went on:
"There is room now for about twenty beds; and annexes can easily be
added as fast as the need grows. This lonely old woman would consider
it a great kindness if you will take charge; she would also like to
have you persuade the House Surgeon that it is high time for him to
become Senior Surgeon, and the new home is the place for him to begin.
Together we should be able to equip it without delay; so that the
children could be moved direct from Saint Margaret's. It is the whim
of this old woman to call it a 'Home for Curables'--which, of course,
is only a whim. Will you come to see me as soon as you can and let us
talk it over?"
Margaret MacLean folded the letter slowly and put it back in its
envelope. "You see," she said, the little-girl look spreading over her
face--"you see, you mustn't take us back again. I could not possibly
refuse, even if I wanted to; it is just what the children have longed
for--and wished for--and--"
"We are not going to give up the ward; she would have to start her home
with other children." The Dominant Trustee announced it flatly.
Strangely enough, the faces of his fellow-directors corroborated his
assertion. Often the value of a collection drops so persistently in
the estimate of its possessor that he begins to contemplate exchanging
it for something more up to date or interesting. But let a rival
collector march forth with igniting enthusiasm and proclaim a desire
for the scorned objects, and that very moment does the possessor
tighten his grip on them and add a decimal or two to their value. So
was it with the trustees of Saint Margaret's. For the first time in
their lives they desired the incurable ward and wished to retain it.
"Not only do we intend to keep the children, but there are many
improvements I shall suggest to the board when there is more time. I
should like to insist on a more careful supervision of--curious
visitors." And the Oldest Trustee raised her lorgnette and compassed
the gathering with a look that challenged dispute.
Margaret MacLean's face became unaccountably old and tired. The vision
that had seemed so close, so tangible, so ready to be made actual, had
suddenly retreated beyond her reach, and she was left as empty of heart
and hand as she had been before. For a moment her whole figure seemed
to crumple; and then she shook herself together into a resisting,
fighting force again.
"You can't keep the children, after this. Think, think what it means
to them--a home in the country, on a hilltop, trees and birds and
flowers all about. Many of them could wheel themselves out of doors,
and the others could have hammocks and cots under the trees. Forget
for this once that you are trustees, and think what it means to the
children."
"But can't you understand?" urged the President, "we feel a special
interest in these children. They are beginning to belong to us--as you
do, yourself, for that matter."
The little-girl look came rushing into Margaret MacLean's face,
flooding it with wistfulness. "It's a little hard to believe--this
belonging to anybody. Yesterday I seemed to be the only person who
wanted me at all, and I wasn't dreadfully keen about it myself." Then
she clapped her hands with the suddenness of an idea. "After all, it's
the children who are really most concerned. Why shouldn't we ask them?
Of course I know it is very much out of the accustomed order of things,
but why not try it? Couldn't we?"
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