be off right away."
"Yes, of course you must go to your own when they need you," said Mildred; "unless they could get some one else. O, Celestia Ann, don't you think it possible they could?"
"No; I know they can't, Miss Mildred; there's no help to be got these days for love or money; and the Lord only knows what's to become of us all!
"Sam says there's several died in our neighborhood a'ready, just for want o' good nussin and proper victuals; so the doctor says."
"And just so it will be with us," sobbed Mildred sinking into a chair and covering her face with her hands. "I cannot nurse them all properly, and cook what they need to eat; and oh, it is so terrible to think they must die for want of it."
"It's awful, and I'm dreadful sorry for you and everybody," sighed Celestia Ann, wiping away the tears that were streaming over her cheeks. "Maybe you might git Mis' Rood to come in for a few days. I'll git Sam to go and see while I'm a pickin' up my things.
"She ain't much for cookin' I don't suppose, but she could clean up and do that big washin', and help a liftin' the sick ones. That is if she'll come; but I dunno but she may be down sick herself."
Sam kindly undertook the errand, but alas, Mrs. Rood was "down sick herself," and no help could be had from that quarter, nor apparently, from any other; and with many tears Celestia Ann took her departure, saying, "I'll come back as soon as I kin, if I keep well, and my folks gits able to do without me."
Chapter Twenty-Fourth.
"Calamity is man's true touch stone."
It was to Mildred Celestia Ann's parting words were spoken, Mildred sitting in dumb despair beside the bed, where Cyril and Don lay tossing and moaning in a burning fever. Her heart sank like lead in her bosom, as she listened to the rumbling of the wheels of the wagon that was bearing away her late efficient helper. "What could they do without her?"
A quiet step crossed the room, a soft hand was laid caressingly on Mildred's bowed head, and looking up she saw her mother's sweet, pale face bending over her; a worn and weary face, but with a strange peacefulness shining through its care and sorrow.
"O mother, mother, whatever shall we do?" cried the girl in a broken whisper, and with a burst of tears.
Mrs. Keith had a small Bible in her hand, her finger between the leaves. She laid it open before Mildred, pointed to a passage in the sixty-second psalm, and just touching her lips to her daughter's forehead, turned away to the little sufferers on the bed.
"Mother's darlings! mother's poor little men! Try to be very patient and good like the dear Lord Jesus when he was in pain, and mother hopes you will soon be well again. She is asking Jesus to make you well."
"I wish he would," moaned Cyril, while; Don uttered some incoherent words, showing that his mind wandered.
"I'se better, mamma," piped the baby voice of Annis from another bed. "Fan and me's better. I dess Dod will make us well, 'tause we asked him to."
"Yes, mother, don't fret about us," joined in Fan and Zillah patiently.
She went over and kissed all three, calling them "dear good children," then passed on into the kitchen.
Rupert was there trying to make a custard; Ada washing dishes.
"You see you're not entirely without help in this department yet, mother," the lad said laughingly.
"No," she answered with a smile that he felt was ample reward for his efforts, "how are you succeeding?"
"Bravely; at least it looks nice. Please come and tell me if 'tis ready to be taken off."
"It will be in a moment. Run out and get me a handful of leaves from that young peach tree, to flavor it with."
He obeyed, she stirring the custard and commending Ada's industry, while he was gone.
"Here they are, mother; is this enough?" he asked, coming back.
"Quite," she said taking them from him; then as her hand touched his, "Rupert," she cried with anguish in her tones, "you are sick! burning up with fever!"
"Heated over the stove, mother," he said, trying to laugh it off, as he lifted the kettle from the fire and poured its contents into a bowl.
"No, I am not to be deceived," she answered in a choking voice, "you ought to be in bed now."
He shook his head. "Somebody must keep up; several somebodies to take anything like proper care of the sick ones. And, mother, I'm as able as you are; you look dreadfully worn and ill."
She was all that; she felt the chills creeping over her at that moment, and her head seemed ready to burst; her heart also.
Oh, she had need of all the comfort and support of the words she had pointed out to Mildred, and of the exhortation contained therein.
"My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation; he is my defense, I shall not be moved. In God is my salvation and my glory; the rock of my strength and my refuge is in God."
She whispered them to herself, as with clasped hands and closed eyes, she sank heavily into a chair, half unconscious of what she was doing.
Rupert sprang to her side, thinking she was about to faint, and Ada, with the same thought in her mind, set down the plate she was wiping and hurried to her also.
They caught the last words. "'The rock of my strength and my refuge is in God.'"
"Yes, mother, dear," sobbed the lad, putting his arms around her, "and oh, you know it's a refuge that will never fail. 'Therefore will we not fear though the earth be removed and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.' 'Man's extremity is God's opportunity,' and He will help us through this strait somehow."
"Yes," she whispered, "and though it should be by death, what is that but going, home? To those of us who love the Lord and trust in His imputed righteousness," she added, looking earnestly, questioningly into his face.
"Mother, I believe I do," he said, "though I have never told you so before."
"Now I can bear it," she whispered, closing her eyes again, while a sweet smile played about her lips.
Her head dropped heavily on her son's shoulder.
"Oh," shrieked Ada, "she's dying! mother's dying!"
"Hush!" cried Rupert sternly, thinking of the mischief her cry might work should it reach the ears of the sick ones, "she has only fainted. A tumbler of water; quick, quick, Ada!"
As the terrified child hastened to do his bidding, Mildred came flying from the inner room, her face pale, her whole frame trembling with affright.
"Mother!" the word came in tones of agony from her pale, quivering lips.
"It's only a faint," said Rupert hoarsely. "Help me to lay her down and
