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Page 47
Anxiously she scanned the faces about her. There was surprise,
amusement, but no dissent. The Disagreeable Trustee smiled secretly
behind his hand; it appealed to his latent sense of humor.
"It would be rather a Balaam and his ass affair, but, as Miss MacLean
suggests, why not try it?" he asked.
Margaret MacLean did not wait an instant longer. She turned to the
House Surgeon. "Bring Bridget down, quickly."
As he disappeared obediently through the door she faced the trustees,
as she had faced them once before, on the day previous. "Bridget will
know better than any one else what will make the children happiest.
Now wouldn't it be fun"--and she smiled adorably--"if you should all
play you were faery godparents, for once in your lifetime, and give
Bridget her choice, whatever it may be?"
This time the entire board smiled back at her; somehow, in some strange
way, it had caught a breath of Fancy. And then--the House Surgeon
re-entered with Bridget in his arms, looking very scared until she
spied "Miss Peggie."
The President did the nicest thing, proving himself the good man he
really was. He crossed hands with the House Surgeon, thereby making a
swinging chair for Bridget, and together they held her while Margaret
MacLean explained:
"It's this way, dear. Some one has offered you--and all the
children--a home in the country--a home of your very own. But the
trustees of Saint Margaret's hardly want to give you up; they think
they can take as good care of you--and make you just as happy here."
"But--sure--they'll have to be givin' us up. Weren't we afther givin'
a penny to the wee one yondther for the home?" and Bridget pointed a
commanding finger toward the door.
Everybody looked. There on the threshold stood the widow of the
Richest Trustee.
"What do you mean, dear? How could you have given her a penny?"
Margaret MacLean asked it in bewilderment.
"'Twas all the doin's o' the primrose ring." And then Bridget shouted
gaily across to the gray wisp of a woman. "Ye tell them. Weren't ye
afther givin' us the promise of a home?"
"And haven't I come to keep the promise?" she answered, as gaily. But
in an instant she sobered as her eyes fell on the open letter on the
President's desk. "I am so sorry I wrote it--that is why I have come;
not that I don't think you deserved it, for you do," and the widow of
the Richest Trustee looked at them unwaveringly.
If she was conscious of the surprised faces about, she gave no sign for
others to reckon by. Instead, she walked the length of the board-room
to the President's desk and went on speaking hurriedly, as if she
feared to be interrupted before she had said all she had come to say.
"I wish I had written in another way, a more helpful way. Why not add
your second surgical ward to Saint Margaret's and do all the good work
you can, as you had planned? Only let me have these children to start
a home which shall be a future harbor for all the cases you cannot mend
with your science and which you ought not to set adrift. You can send
me all the convalescing children, too, who need country air and
building up. In return for this, and because you deserve to be
punished--just a little--for yesterday--I shall try my best to take
with me Margaret MacLean and your House Surgeon."
She laid a hand on both, while she added, softly: "Suppose we three go
home together and talk things over. Shall we?"
So the "Home for Curables" has come true. It crests a hilltop, and is
well worth the penny that Bridget gave for it. As the children
specified, there are no "trusters"; and it has all the modern
improvements, including Margaret MacLean, who is still "Miss Peggie,"
although she is married to their new Senior Surgeon.
There is one very particular thing about the Home which ought to be
mentioned. When the children arrived Toby was on the steps, barking a
welcome. No one was surprised; in fact, everybody acted as though he
belonged there. Perhaps the surprising thing would have been not
having the promise kept. Toby is allowed right of way, everywhere; and
rumor has it that he often sneaks in at night and sleeps on Peter's
bed. But, of course, that is just rumor.
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