  Mrs. Morton was acting as head nurse in the home hospital. Ethel Blue’s injuries from her fall were not serious, but besides the bruises on her forehead, she had numerous large black and blue spots all over her body and she had been so shaken that the doctor thought it was well for her to stay in bed for a day or two. In addition to Ethel Blue, Dicky was laid low for the time being. He had gone over to his grandfather’s and as he was accustomed to run about the farm by himself, and as he usually stayed near some of the workmen, nobody paid any attention to him. This time, however, he went up into the pasture, where he found most of the cows lying down in the shade of the trees and meditatively chewing their cuds after their morning meal. Dicky was not in the least afraid of cows, having been familiar with them from his babyhood. He therefore walked up to one of the prostrate creatures and sat down comfortably upon her neck, steadying himself by her nearest horn. Nothing happened for a minute of two, for either his weight was so slight that the cow hardly noticed it, or else his position did not interfere with her comfort. After a time, however, he began to pull at her horns in time with the motion of her jaws, and this measured movement seemed to annoy her. Shaking her head, she rose, first behind, throwing her rider even farther forward than he was, and then in front, tossing him off altogether. The distance to the ground was not great, but it was far enough for Dicky to be peppered with bumps and pretty well shaken. The cow paid no farther attention to him but walked off to a spot where she might be free from annoyance, and the little boy lay for some time on the ground before he could pull himself together and go to his grandfather’s. By the time he reached there, his bruises were already turning black and he was interesting both to himself and to his relatives, although he was manfully keeping back his tears. The doctor ordered him to bed for a day or two, and now he lay on a cot at one side of the large room which served as the family hospital, and Ethel Blue at the other, comparing their wounds, and receiving the attention of Mrs. Morton. She had finished reading one of the Br’er Rabbit stories to them when Ethel Blue introduced the subject that was so constantly in her mind. “Did I tell you how I happened to fall off the terrace wall?” she asked her aunt. “I wondered how you did it; you are usually so sure-footed.” “I was talking with Miss Daisy about my going to live with Father by-and-by. You know I never thought of it until the other night when we were all together on the porch and Helen,—wasn’t it?—said something about it. I wish I didn’t have to wait to finish school before I can go to him.” “Are you in such a hurry to leave us?” said Mrs. Morton, with a little sigh for the many years of loving care she had spent over this child, who was to her like one of her own. Ethel Blue was conscience-stricken. “You know, Aunt Marion, I love all of you just like my own people. Only it seems so wonderful to think about being with Father all the time that I can’t get it out of my mind—now it’s in my mind.” “There are a good many things to be considered,” answered Mrs. Morton. “You know that an officer often has to be away from home and your father wouldn’t like to leave you alone.” Ethel Blue’s face fell. “If I only had somebody like Dicky’s Mary to stay with me,” she said, referring to the nurse who had always taken care of Dicky, and who had lived on with the family after he was too old to need a nurse. “Perhaps your father might marry again and then there would be no difficulty about your being with him all the time.” Mrs. Morton made the suggestion gently but Ethel Blue flushed angrily at once. “I think that’s a perfectly horrible idea, Aunt Marion. That means a stepmother for me, and I think a stepmother is detestable.” “Have you ever known one,” inquired Mrs. Morton coolly. “No, I never have, but I’ve read a great deal about them and they’re always cross and mean and their stepchildren hate them.” “Don’t you suppose that a great many stepchildren work up a dislike beforehand just because they read the same kind of stories that you seem to have been reading?” asked Mrs. Morton. Ethel Blue was a reasonable girl, and she thought this over before she answered. “Perhaps they do,” she said, although slowly, as if she disliked to admit it. “I have happened to know several stepmothers,” said Mrs. Morton, “and I never have known one who was not quite as kind or even kinder to her stepchildren, than to her own children. A mother feels that she can do as her judgment dictates with her own children, but with her stepchildren she weighs everything with even greater care, because she feels an added responsibility toward them.” “But she can’t love them as she does her own children,” said Ethel Blue. “I think there is very little difference,” said her Aunt Marion. “I am not your stepmother but at the same time I am not your own mother, and I am not conscious of loving you any less than I love Ethel Brown. You are both my dear girls.” “I love Father but I do think Father would be mean if he gave me a stepmother,” said Ethel Blue. “But, wouldn’t you be mean if you objected to his having the happiness of a household of his own, after all these years when he has not had one?” returned Mrs. Morton promptly. “Your father has lived a lonely life for many years, and if such a thing should happen as his deciding to marry again, I can’t think that my little Ethel Blue would be so selfish as to make him unhappy—or even uncomfortable—about it.” This was a new idea for Ethel Blue and she snuggled down under her covers and turned her head away to think about it. Her aunt left her alone and the room was quiet except for the noise made by Dicky’s little hands, as he turned the pages of a picture book. It was almost dark when Mrs. Morton came back with Mary, each of them bearing a tray with the supper for one of the invalids. “I must say,” laughed Mrs. Morton, as she entered the hospital, “these are pretty hearty meals for people who call themselves ill.” “My mind isn’t ill,” said Ethel Blue; “it’s just these bruises that hurt me,” and Dicky understood what she meant, for he told Mary, who was arranging his pillows, that his “black and blue thspotth were awful thore,” but that he was going to get up in the morning. As Mrs. Morton leaned over Ethel Blue’s bed, the young girl put an arm around her aunt’s neck and drew her down to her. “I’ve made up my mind not to be piggy if anything like that does happen,” she said, hesitatingly. “Do you know that it is going to happen?” “No, I do not,” answered Mrs. Morton, “but I saw that you were in a frame of mind to make your father very unhappy if it should come to pass. You ought not to allow yourself to have such thoughts, even about an indefinite stepmother. They might easily turn into thoughts of real hatred for an actual stepmother.” “But do you think there might be a stepmother some time or other?” asked Ethel Blue. “Yes, dear, I do. Your father probably seems old to you, but he really is not very old and, as I said before, he has lived a lonely life for many years. You know it was fourteen years ago that your mother died, and since then he has had no home of his own and no loving companionship. He has not even had the delight of helping to bring up his little daughter. If he can make happiness for himself now, after all these years, don’t you think that his little daughter ought to help him?” Ethel Blue nodded silently and ate her supper thoughtfully. “While you two were taking your nap, I went to Sweetbrier Lodge,” said Mrs. Morton, by way of entertaining the invalids. “I am so much interested in the way that Aunt Louise has arranged for the maids. You know so many people have only a servant’s workroom, the kitchen; and the maids have no room to sit in after their work is done. Aunt Louise has been very thoughtful in all her plans. The laundry and the kitchen and the pantry between the kitchen and the dining room, all have the most convenient arrangements possible. Every shelf and cupboard is placed so that the number of footsteps that the kitchen worker must take will be reduced as greatly as possible. Then there are all sorts of labor saving arrangements. You saw those in the kitchen and the cellar. The electrician has been there daily fitting up an electric range and dish-washing machine. The wires in the kitchen are placed just where they will be most serviceable, and there are plenty of windows so that the room is bright in the day-time. Then just off the kitchen, there is a delightful little sitting room, with a porch opening from it. It has a view toward the garden and FitzJames’s woods, and it is to be prettily furnished.” “There are two bed-rooms and a bath for the maids in the attic story,” said Ethel Blue. “They are going to be prettily furnished too.” “Will they have a garden?” asked Dicky from his corner. “Do you know?” Mrs. Morton turned to Ethel for an answer. “I do understand now,” she replied, “why Dorothy insisted on having the herb garden down by the house. I thought it was just because it would be convenient to have the herbs near the kitchen, but she planted flowers there too, and now I see that it will be a pretty flower garden for the maids to enjoy and to cut for their own rooms.” “There are two things about Aunt Louise that are interesting,” said Ethel Blue. “One is the way she always tries to make other people happy and comfortable.” “She is naturally thoughtful and considerate,” said Mrs. Morton, “and she has had much unhappiness in her life and has happened to meet many people who are unhappy, so it has taught her to do all she can to brighten other people’s lives and to make them easier.” “I don’t believe many people who are building a house would let a lot of children say what they thought would be nice about it,” said Ethel Blue. “She wants Dorothy and all of you to learn about the new ways of building and fitting up a house,” returned Mrs. Morton, “and she knows how much fun it is to talk over such matters in a general pow-wow. Haven’t all of you had a good deal of fun out of it?” “We certainly have,” replied Ethel Blue. “I liked fixing up Ayleesabet’s room particularly, because I suggested the idea, but we have all made suggestions for every room in the house. Aunt Louise has not agreed with all of them, but she always told us why she didn’t agree or why she didn’t like our ideas. She never was snippy about it, just because we were children. The other thing that is interesting in Aunt Louise, is the way she wants to have all sorts of new arrangements in a house.” “Almost everybody does that,” answered Mrs. Morton. “I don’t know anybody in Rosemont who has all the things that Aunt Louise has put in. People have vacuum cleaners now-a-days, that they move around from one room to another, but she has hers built in, so the dirt is drawn right down into the cellar. She has every kind of electric thing she has ever heard of, I do believe.” “The electrician was there to-day as I told you, arranging wires in the kitchen.” “I was trying to count up as I was lying here, all the things in the house that go by electricity. Of course there’s the door bell to begin with. Then there are all the lighting switches—the one in the vestibule and all the regular ones in the halls and rooms and a lot of them in the different closets, so that she never will have to struggle around in the dark for anything she is hunting for.” “I saw a man putting in a little pilot light for the oven, to-day,” said Mrs. Morton. “What’s that for?” “So the cook can investigate the state of affairs in the oven. Sometimes it’s hard to say how far along a dish at the back of the oven is. This light enables you to make out whether it is browning properly or not.” “The man who put in the summer water-heater called the little light that burns all the time in that, a ‘pilot,’” said Ethel Blue. “The dumb-waiter that runs from the cellar up through the house to take up kindling or whatever needs to be taken up stairs, runs at the touch of an electric button,” said Mrs. Morton. “I wish there had been an elevator for people,” said Ethel Blue. “The house isn’t large enough to call for that,” said her aunt, laughing. “Dorothy and her mother are able to go up one or two flights of stairs without much suffering!” Ethel laughed at the suggestion, and went on with her enumeration of the uses of electricity. “The city water runs into the house, but do you know that Aunt Louise has had an extra pump fitted into a deep well at the back of the house, and that is to work by electricity? She was afraid the house was so high up that the power of the town water might be weak sometimes.” “She’s prepared for anything, isn’t she? She’ll be quite independent if any accident should happen to the Rosemont reservoir.” “You know the fittings of the laundry are electric.” “And the electrician to-day was going to put in an electric hair dryer in the bath-room, so that a shampoo will require only a few minutes’ time.” “I see where all of us girls visit Dorothy on shampoo day,” giggled Ethel Blue. “She’ll be as popular as I used to be when our cherries were ripe,” her Aunt Marion smiled in return. “I never seemed to have so many friends as during the June days when I always entertained my guests by inviting them up into the cherry tree.” “Was that the cherry tree on the right thide of Chrandfather’th houthe?” asked Dicky suddenly from the corner where he had been supposed to be dozing. “The very same cherry tree, young man. I dare say you know it.” “It’th too fat for me to thin up,” he said, “but nektht year I’m going up on a ladder the minute I see a robin flying off with the first ripe cherry.” |
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