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Page 19
The paragon shot up, with the small unevenness which was his limp, and
faced the big doctor on a level. The two pairs of eyes from their
uncommon height, looked inquiringly into each other.
"I hear you have my name," spoke Dr. Cabell tersely.
"Yes, sir," said David, "And I'm glad." And the doctor knew that he also
liked the paragon.
Lunch was an epic meal above and below stairs. Jeems had been fetched by
that black Mercury Jackson, messenger today of the gods of joy. And the
two old souls had been told by Mrs. Cabell that never again should they
work hard or be anxious or want for anything. The sensation-loving
colored servants rejoiced in the events as a personal jubilee, and made
much of Aunt Basha and Unc' Jeems till their old heads reeled. Above
stairs the scroll unrolled more or loss decorously, yet in magic colors
unbelievable. Somehow David had told about Annesley and Jarvis last
night.
"Somebody knitted him a whole dozen pairs of socks!" he commented,
"Really she did. He said so. Think of a girl being as good to a chap as
that."
"I'll knit you a dozen," Miss Eleanor Cabell capped his sentence, like
the Amen at the end of a High Church prayer. "I'll begin this
afternoon."
"And, David," said Mrs. Cabell--for it had got to be "David" and "Cousin
Virginia" by now--"David, when you get your commission, I'll have your
field glass ready, and a few other things."
Dr. Cabell lifted his eyes from his chop. "You'll spoil that boy," he
stated. "And, mother, I pointed out that I'm not the Almighty, even on
joints, I haven't looked at that game leg yet. I said it _might_ be
curable."
"That boy" looked up, smiling, with long years of loneliness and
lameness written in the back of his glance. "Please don't make 'em stop,
doctor," he begged. "I won't spoil easily. I haven't any start. And this
is a fairy-story to me--wonderful people like you letting me--letting me
belong. I can't believe I won't wake up. Don't you imagine it will go
to my head. It won't. I'm just so blamed--grateful."
The deep young voice trailed, and the doctor made haste to answer.
"You're all right, my lad," he said, "As soon as lunch is over you come
into the surgery and I'll have a glance at the leg." Which was done.
After half an hour David came out, limping, pale and radiant. "I can't
believe it," he spoke breathless. "He says--it's a simple--operation.
I'll walk--like other men. I'll be right for--the service." He choked.
At that Mrs. Cabell sped across the room and put up hands either side of
the young face and drew it down and kissed the lad whom she did not,
this morning, know to be in existence. "You blessed boy," she whispered,
"you shall fight for America, and you'll be our soldier, and we'll be
your people." And David, kissing her again, looked over her head and saw
Eleanor glowing like a rose, and with a swift, unphrased shock of
happiness felt in his soul the wonder of a heaven that might happen.
Then they were all about the fire, half-crying, laughing, as people do
on top of strong feelings.
"Aunt Basha did it all," said David. "If Aunt Basha hadn't been the most
magnificent old black woman who ever carried a snow-white soul, if she
hadn't been the truest patriot in all America, if she hadn't given
everything for her country--I'd likely never have--found you." His eyes
went to the two kind and smiling faces, and his last word was a whisper.
It was so much to have found. All he had dreamed, people of his own, a
straight leg--and--his heart's desire--service to America.
Mrs. Cabell spoke softly, "I've lived a long time and I've seen over and
over that a good deed spreads happiness like a pebble thrown into water,
more than a bad one spreads evil, for good is stronger and more
contagious. We've gained this dear kinsman today because of the nobility
of an old negro woman."
David Lance lifted his head quickly. "It was no small nobility," he
said. "As Miss Cabell was saying--"
"I'm your cousin Eleanor," interrupted Miss Cabell.
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