Greenacre Girls, Page 2

  *CHAPTER II*

  *THE MOTHERBIRD AND HER ROBINS*

  The next three days were ones of anxious waiting. All plans for theValentine party had been abandoned, and after school hours the girlshung around Cousin Roxana feeling that she alone could help them bearthe suspense. Jean occasionally stole away to her mother's room andlooked around to be sure that everything was as she liked it best, andwhen she came out into the wide upper hall she usually met Kit and Dorisstealing from their father's room, their eyes red from weeping.

  Helen hunted the cosy corners and curled herself up like a forlornkitten. Kit declared there wasn't a dry sofa cushion in the house.

  "How about your own self?" Doris asked.

  "I cry too, but not all the time. Jean and I are standing shoulder toshoulder with Cousin Roxy." Kit straightened her shoulders and stood inmartial attitude. "We represent the--the ultima--what's the farthestbeyond in Latin, Jean? Anyway that's what we represent, the beyondnessin feminine efficiency."

  "What does that mean, Kit?"

  Kit patted the short bobbed curls on the head of the youngest "robin."

  "Means that we've got to keep our heads no matter what happens."

  Jean said little. Ever since she could remember, her mother had said toher, "You know I rely on you most, dear. You're mother's comforter."

  It was a thought that always gave her fresh strength, to know how muchher mother needed her. She was smaller than Kit, slender and with darkeyes, with a look in them that Doris said reminded her of the eyes of adeer.

  "Jeanie, there's a Virginia fallow deer over in the Park that looksexactly like you," she would say soberly. "And so do all the squirrelswhen they keep still and stare at one sideways. You've got suchsympathetic, interested, mellow eyes."

  "Eyes can't be mellow, Dorrie," Jean laughed. "Try something else."

  "Well, they are mellow just the same,--tender and nice, aren't they,Helen?"

  And Helen would always agree that they were, tender like the eyes ofJeanne, the girl in the garden at Arles, listening to the voices.

  But they were full of trouble now, as Jean hurried around the house,following Cousin Roxana's directions, and encouraging Tekla, theHungarian cook, to stand at her post. Cousin Roxana really did herselfproud, as she would have said, as director of preparations. Mr.Robbins' rooms were as immaculate and as clear of non-essentials as thedeck of a battleship. Under her orders the girls and Bertha, the secondmaid, worked faithfully; while Tekla regarded her with silent, wide-eyedadmiration.

  "We'd never have managed without you, Cousin Roxy," Jean declared whenthe final half-hour arrived, and they all gathered in the longliving-room, listening for the hum of the car up the drive. Helen andDoris were together, arms entwined about each other's shoulders, on thewide window-seat. Kit paced back and forth restlessly, and Jean sat onthe arm of her father's favorite chair before the open fireplace, hereyes watching the curling flames.

  "Land, child, I don't see what you want to burn open fires for when yourun a good furnace," Cousin Roxana had demurred. "Up home, I'd be onlytoo glad of the furnace. I have to keep the kitchen stove going steadyall day, and run one more in the sitting-room."

  "I know it isn't necessary," Jean answered, sitting on the rug beforethe fire, her hands clasped around her knees, kiddie fashion, in spiteof her seventeen years, "but it warms the cockles of your heart to watchan open fire. Don't you think so, Cousin Roxy?"

  Cousin Roxana sat in the low willow rocker, placidly knitting on acounterpane square of old-fashioned filet.

  "We must all hope for the best," she said, beaming at the anxious faces."Helen, for pity's sake stop that silent drizzling. If it should be thewill of the Lord that your blessed father be taken, it isn't right forus to rebel and take on so, is it? I feel just as badly as any of you."She took off her eyeglasses, that were always balanced half way down hernose, and ruminated, "Land, didn't I live with him for years after hismother died. That was your own grandmother, Helen Faunce Robbins. I'vegot her spinning-wheel up home in the garret still. But I always didsay we made too much woe of the passing over of our dear ones. Why, itisn't any time at all before we're going along right after them. I dobelieve there's many a person been worried to death by weepingrelations. Smile, girls, even if your hearts do ache, and cheer him up.Don't meet him with tears and fears. Jean, run and tell Tekla to keepan eye on that beef tea while I'm up here. It has to keep simmering.Kit, can't you keep still for a minute, or does it rest your mortal coilto keep it on the trot?"

  So she cheered and encouraged them, and when the automobile rolled up tothe veranda steps with Mr. and Mrs. Robbins and the spotless littleWhite Hen, the children did their best to appear happy. Mr. Robbins,wrapped close in furs, waved to them, his lean, handsome face eager withhome love and longing.

  "Hello, my robins," he called to them. "Back to the nest. Roxy, Godbless you, give me a hand. I'm still rather shaky."

  They were all trying to kiss him at once, and Doris held one of his thinwhite hands close against her cheek. It did not require the look intheir mother's beautiful eyes to warn them about being careful. Slenderand stately, she stood behind him, smiling at them all. Surely in allthe world there was nobody quite like Mother, the girls thought, nobodywho could be so tender and sweet and yet so gracious and queenlike.

  "Why, he doesn't look nearly so bad as I expected," Cousin Roxana toldher, kissing her in a motherly way. Somehow it seemed quite natural forall to pet and comfort the Motherbird, to try and shield her from theharsher side of life and make the sun shine for her always. Life hadalways run in smooth, flower-bordered canals of peace for Betty Robbins.Only the past three months had shown her the possibilities of troubleand sorrow, and even now they had only knocked at her door, not enteredas unbidden guests.

  "You mustn't tire him, girls," she told them warningly, as the nurse andCousin Roxana assisted him upstairs, one step at a time, then a restbefore the next. "He must have a chance to recover from the longjourney."

  "Land o' rest," Roxana called back happily, "I'm so relieved that youdidn't have to bring him back on a stretcher I can hardly catch mybreath."

  "We're hopeful since he stood the journey so well," answered Mrs.Robbins. She leaned back in the big, cushioned willow chair that Dorisalways called "The Bungalow." Jean slipped off her cloak and Doris tookher gloves. Helen knelt to put a fresh log on the fire and Kit hurrieddown after a tea tray. It was not fitting that the Queen Mother shouldreceive service at the hands of hirelings. But when she returned shefound a scene that might have baffled even Cousin Roxana. Helen andDoris knelt on the floor beside the big chair, the tears running downtheir faces, and Jean hung over the back with her arms close around hermother.

  "Mother darling," she begged. "Don't, don't cry so. Why, you're home,and we're all going to look after him, and be your helpers."

  Helen sped up after Cousin Roxana, and presently she came bustlingdownstairs, flushed and efficient.

  "Why, Elizabeth Ann," she cried, smoothing back her hair just as if shehad been one of the girls. "Don't give way just when your strengthshould be tried and true."

  "Please call me Betty," protested Mrs. Robbins, smiling even through hertears. "It sounds so formal for you to call me Elizabeth Ann. Italways makes me feel like squaring my shoulders, Roxy."

  "So you should, child," Roxana declared cheerily. "Betty's so sort ofgaysome to my way of thinking and there's stability to Elizabeth Ann.Lord knows, you're going to need a lot of stability before you find theway out of this."

  "I know I am." As she spoke the Motherbird held her brood close to her,Doris and Helen kneeling beside her and Jean and Kit on each side. Sheleaned back her head and smiled at them. It was such a lovely face,they thought. Nobody in all the world had quite the same look or air asMother. Back from her low broad forehead waved thick brown hair. Dorisloved to perch on the broad arm of the willow chair and searchdiligently for any
gray hairs that dared to show themselves. If anywere found, they were promptly pulled out. Nine might come in the placeof each, as Cousin Roxana said was highly probable according totradition, but while they were few and far between, they were alleradicated, almost in indignation that Father Time should dare toassail, ever so gently, the splendid fortress of Mother's youth.

  "Really, girls," Kit would say sometimes in her abrupt way, "I thinkMother has the most interesting face I ever saw, and the most soulfuleyes. They can be just as full of fun and mischief as Dorrie's, andthen, again, just watch them when she feels sorry for anybody. It'sworth while having a pain or something happen to you just to see herlook that way."

  She was looking "that way" at this moment as she smiled up at CousinRoxana; just as though there was nothing too hard or too difficult inall the world for her to undertake.

  "That's better," Cousin Roxy said comfortably. "Now you children takeher up to her room and play you're maids of honor to the queen. I haveto tend my broth and see how Jerry's coming along. Looks to me likerest and quiet and cheerful hearts will carry him through if anythingwill."

  "Roxy!" There was a hidden note of tragedy in the Motherbird's voice.Nobody but the same unemotional Roxy knew how she longed to put her headright down on that ample bosom and have a good old-fashioned cry."Roxy, the doctors say he'll never be any better."

  "Fiddlesticks and pinwheels!" exclaimed Miss Robbins indignantly, with atoss of her head. "Lots they know about it. I declare, sometimes Ithink the more you pay a doctor the less he can do for you and thebigger-sounding names he thinks up to call what may ail you. Icertainly do wonder at the way they try to make folks think they've gota special little private telephone wire right up to the Death Angel'sdoor. I never take any stock in them at all, Betty." It came out quiteeasily. "Give me castor oil, some quinine and calomel, and maybe alittle arnica salve for emergencies, and I'll undertake to help anybodyhang on to their mortal coils a little bit longer."

  "But things seem to be near a crisis now."

  "Let them." Cousin Roxana stood with arms akimbo, as if she werehurling defiance at somebody, and the girls fairly hung on her words."If the soul never had trials, what would be the use of life? Put ye onthe armor of faith, Betty Robbins, and hope for the best. As for you,Jean and Kit, and you too, Helen and Dorrie, if I find any of youlooking down your noses, I declare I'll stick clothes-pins on them andfasten a smile to your lips with court plaster."