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Page 71
If it had done nothing but keep her employed out of doors many hours of
the day it would have been well worth the effort, for it kept her from
brooding over her troubles, and largely took away the caged feeling
which had made her so desperate. As the fresh green shoots came up
through the soil and she counted the long straight rows, she counted
also the dimes each one ought to bring to the family purse, and drew a
breath of relief. They would amount to a neat little sum by the end of
the season, and by that time maybe some other way would be opened up for
her to earn money at home. True, not all the things they planted came
up. Fully a third of the garden "failed to answer to roll call," Norman
said, but those that did respond to their diligent care amply made up
for the failure of the others.
Jack's room in the wing of the cottage had a south door over-looking the
garden, and it was a happy day for the entire household when he asked to
know what was going on out there. He could not see the garden from the
corner where his bed stood, but the nurse propped a large mirror up
against a chair in a way to reflect the entire scene. Norman was
vigorously hoeing weeds, and Mary, armed with a large magnifying glass,
was on a hunt for the worms that were threatening the young plants.
The scene seemed to amuse Jack immensely, and entirely aroused out of
his apathy, he began to ask questions, and to suggest various dishes
that he would like to sample as soon as the garden could furnish them.
Every morning after that he called for the mirror to see how much the
garden had grown in the night. It was an event when the first tiny
radish was brought in for him to taste, and a matter of family
rejoicing, when the first crisp head of lettuce was made into a salad
for him, because his enjoyment of it was so evident.
About that time he was able to be propped up in bed a little while each
day, and was so much like his old cheerful self that Mary wrote long
hopeful letters to Joyce and Betty about his improvement. He joked with
the nurse and talked so confidently about going back to work, that Mary
began to feel that her worst fears had been unfounded, and that much of
her mental anguish on his account had been unnecessary. Sometimes she
shared his hopefulness to such an extent that she half regretted leaving
school before the end of the year. When the girls wrote about the
approaching Commencement and the good times they were having, and of how
they missed her, she thought how pleasant it would have been to have had
at least the one whole year with them. She was afraid she would be sorry
all the rest of her life that she had missed those experiences of
Commencement time. The exercises were always so beautiful at Warwick
Hall.
She could not wholly regret her return, however, when she saw how much
Jack depended on her for entertainment. He was ready to hear all about
her escapades at school now, and hours at a time she talked or read to
him, choosing with unerring instinct the tales best suited to his mood.
Phil kept them supplied with all the current magazines. Phil had been so
thoughtful about that, and his occasional letters to Jack had made
red-letter days on Mary's calendar. They had been almost as good as
visits, they were so charged with his jolly, light-hearted spirit.
But it happened, that the story she intended to read Jack first, _The
Jester's Sword_, still lay unopened on her table. She could not even
suggest his likeness to Aldebaran while he talked so hopefully of what
he intended to do as soon as he was out of bed. It was evident that he
did not realize the utter hopelessness of his condition, or he could not
have made such big plans for the future.
"Of course I appreciate your leaving school in the middle of the term,"
he told her. "It's good for mamma to have you here, and it's fine for
me, too, to have you look after me. But I'm sorry you were so badly
frightened that you thought it necessary. You'll have to pay up for this
holiday, Missy. I shall expect you to study all summer to make up lost
time, so that you can catch up with your class and enter Sophomore with
them next fall."
To please him she brought out her books and studied awhile every day,
reciting her French and Latin to her mother, and wrestling along with
the others as best she could. Then, too, it was impossible not to be
affected to some extent by his spirit of hopefulness, and several times
she gave herself up to the bliss of dreaming of the joyful thing it
would be, if he should prove to be right and she could go back to
Warwick Hall in the fall. Then, one day the surgeons came up from
Phoenix again and made their examination and experiments, and after
that the lessons and the day-dreams stopped. Everything stopped, it
seemed.
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