and said no word to him. He followed Marilla round as she dusted up the rooms and wanted to know about Bethany Home.
“Were the children always good?”
“Oh, no. There were a good many bad ones among them.”
“Did they have a strap?”
“Yes, a bigger one than your father’s.”
“Will papa get a bigger one when I’m big?”
“Oh, Jack, I hope you won’t need any strap. Why can’t you be a good boy?”
Jack gave a long sigh. “Sometimes badness comes into your mind just sudden like.”
After a pause – “Did you like Bethany Home?”
“Not as well as being here. I’ve told you that forty times. And there were no little babies. And no dessert, only a teeny little bit on Sunday. And just a sweet cracker for tea.”
“What makes you like the babies? They can’t talk nor do anything. And they are not as pretty as I am. Folks used to say when I was real little, ‘Oh, what a lovely child.’”
Marilla laughed, Jack did know that he was very good looking.
“They’ll be pretty by and by. And they are real sweet. I like babies. I like kittens and little chickens.”
“I like a dog. Cats scratch.”
“Not unless you torment them. Now I am going down stairs to put the dishes on the table. Then I must go and help Bridget.”
“Bridget won’t let me come down in the kitchen. She chases me out with a stick.”
“Children are a bother in the kitchen. They ask so many questions.”
Then his mother and Aunt Florence came home from church, and his father with both babies asleep. He carried them upstairs.
Marilla was getting to be quite a handy table maid for all but the heavy dishes. She placed them on the dumb waiter and started them down stairs. Mrs. Borden took off the others. When the babies were awake Marilla had to stay up with them.
Mrs. Borden dished the cream. “Jack will not have any today,” his mother said.
Jack sat still with his eyes full of tears but said not a word.
But he went to Sunday school with Marilla and behaved beautifully.
“If he was always as good as this,” the child thought, “how I should love him.” He did not even tease for a walk, a thing she was quite afraid he would do.
CHAPTER IV
POOR CINDERELLA
Oh, how busy they were and the babies took this opportunity to begin the cutting of teeth. The auto came for Aunt Hetty. Some of the parlor furnishings were packed away, everything swathed in linen. The closing exercises of the kindergarten took place and Jack distinguished himself by repeating a pretty little poem. In September he would be six.
Then came the last week. They would go on Saturday. Sunday was Fourth of July but it would be held on Monday. Trunks were packed, the last bit of shopping done. The babies fretted and Marilla took them out morning and afternoon with strict injunctions to keep on the shady side of the street. It seemed to grow hotter and hotter. The child lost her appetite and could not eat Bridget’s choice tid-bits. Oh, how her little legs ached, and her back felt sometimes as if it would fall apart.
“It’s good you are going,” declared Bridget.
“You’re almost a skeleton. Goodness knows I shall miss you enough, and just be thinking of your coming back.”
Jack had gone down town with his mother to get some sandals and slippers. She was very glad, for sometimes his talking almost set her crazy, and she really was afraid to be impatient with him.
She had found a beautiful quiet street with great trees that fairly met in the middle of it. Many of the families were away. She sat on one special stoop where the house was all shut up tight. There were no children in the street.
It seemed this day, Thursday, as if she would never get there. The babies were so heavy. She sat down on the second step, leaning against the stone column and pushed the carriage to and fro. Curious shadows went dancing before her eyes, sometimes she could not see at all. And she was so sleepy!
Pansy threw her rattle out and cried for it. Marilla stepped down to pick it up and fell on the sidewalk. What was the matter with her legs? they seemed to have lost their strength. She crawled up again. All the world, the trees and houses went flying round and all was dark. She was falling down – down – Poor little Cinderella!
The babies missed the soft soothing voice. They cried louder and louder, then howled. Some children came to see what was the matter two quite big boys among them. The policeman looked down from the corner and paced with his slow tread.
“What’s the row here?” he asked.
A lady came down one of the stoops on the opposite side of the street; a rather tall, slim woman in a soft gray dress and hat with violets around the crown. She crossed over. The policeman had taken the girl by the shoulder and given her a rough shake.
“Those children howl enough to wake the dead, and she’s asleep here.”
But as he partly raised her Miss Armitage saw that her face was deadly white.
“Oh, poor child!” she cried. “What can be the matter? And whose babies are these?”
“They’re Jack Borden’s little sisters – twins. And thats the nuss gal,” said one of the big boys.
“Do you know where they live?”
“Round in Arch street.”
“Could you take them there?”
“Well – yes’m.”
“Then take them,” rejoined the lady.
The carriage being moved she sat down on the step and took the girl in her arms.
“She isn’t dead – I see the flutter in the temple.”
“Better go to the hospital,” proposed the policeman.
Marilla opened her eyes and glanced up but did not seem to notice anything; then the lids fell and the beautiful long lashes shadowed her cheeks.
“Carry her to my house across the street,” and she led the way.
He picked up the light burden as if it had been a feather. She opened the door and asked him to take the child upstairs and lay her on the couch.
“I am obliged to you,” she said. “In a way I am in Settlement work. We’ll have a doctor and see what is the matter. Then I’ll decide about the hospital. And I will find out about those people.”
“You’re a good sort, ma’am,” and he touched his hat brim to her.
“Jane,” she called. “This poor child isn’t exactly in a faint, but something
