“Ah! good-morning, Mrs. Gaston! Good-morning!” said that personage, with a broad, good-natured smile. “How is Ella?”
“She seems very poorly, Mrs. Grubb. I begin to feel troubled about her. She complains of a sore throat this morning, and you know the scarlet fever is all about now.”
“Oh, no! never fear that, Mrs. Gaston. Ella’s not down with the scarlet fever, I know.”
“I trust not. But I have my fears.”
“Never take trouble on interest, Mrs. Gaston. It is bad enough when it comes in the natural way. But what can I do for you?”
“I think I must have a cent’s worth of coffee this morning. My head aches so that I am almost blind. A strong cup of coffee I am sure will do me good. And as I have a hard day’s work before me, I must prepare for it. And then I must have a pint of milk and a three-cent loaf of bread for the children. That must do me for the present. We have some molasses left.”
“You’ll want a little dried meat, or a herring, or something to give you a relish, Mrs. Gaston. Dry bread is poor eating. And you know you can’t touch molasses.” Half in sympathy did Mrs. Grubb utter this, and half as a dealer, desirous of selling her goods.
“Nothing more just now, I believe,” the poor woman replied. “I must be prudent, you know, and count over every cent.”
“But you’ll make yourself sick, if you don’t eat something more than you do. So come now; treat yourself to a herring, or to a penny’s worth of this sweet butter. You’ll feel all the better for it, and do more than enough work to pay the cost twice over.”
Mrs. Gaston’s appetite was tempted. The hard fresh butter looked inviting to her eyes, and she stooped over and smelled it half involuntarily.
“I believe you are right, Mrs. Grubb,” she said. “You may give me a couple of cents’ worth of this nice butter.”
An ounce of butter was carefully weighed out, and given to the customer.
“Isn’t there something else, now, that you want?” said the smiling shopkeeper, leaning her elbows upon the counter, and looking encouragingly into the face of Mrs. Gaston.
“I’ve indulged myself, and I shall not feel right, unless I indulge the children a little also,” was the reply; “so weigh me two cents’ worth of your smoked beef. They all like it very much.”
The smoked beef was soon ready, and then the mother hurried home to her children.
After the morning meal had been prepared, Mrs. Gaston sat down and ate her bread and butter, tasting a little of the children’s meat, and drinking her coffee with a keen relish. She felt braced up on rising from the table, and, but for the illness of Ella, would have felt an unusual degree of cheerfulness.
Henry attended the common school of the district, and, soon after breakfast, prepared himself to go. As he was leaving, his mother told him to call at Doctor R—’s, and ask him if he would be kind enough to stop and see Ella. She then seated herself once more beside her little work-table. The two foreparts of the jacket had been finished, except the button-holes; and the sleeves were ready to put in as soon as the body of the garment was ready for them. As the button-holes tried the sight of Mrs. Gaston severely, she chose that part of the day, when her eyes were fresh, to work them. The jacket was double-breasted, and there were five holes to be worked on each side. She had nearly completed one-half of them, when Doctor R—came in. He looked serious upon examining his patient. Said she was very ill, and required immediate attention.
“But you don’t think it the scarlet fever, doctor?” the mother said, in a low, alarmed voice.
“Your child is very sick, madam; and, to tell you the truth, her symptoms resemble too closely those of the fever you have named,” was the undisguised reply.
“Surely, my cup is full and running over!” sobbed Mrs. Gaston, clasping her hands together as this sudden announcement broke down, for a moment, her self-control, while the tears gushed from her eyes.
Doctor R—was a man of true feeling. He had attended, in two or three cases of illness, the children of Mrs. Gaston, and had observed that she was a woman who had become, from some cause, greatly reduced in circumstances. His sympathies were strongly awakened at seeing her emotion, and he said, in a kind but firm voice:
“A mother, the safety of whose child depends upon her calm and intelligent performance of duty, should never lose her self-control.”
“I know that, doctor,” the mother answered, rallying herself with a strong effort. “But I was over-tried already, and your sudden confirmation of my worst fears completely broke me down.”
“In any event, however,” the doctor replied, “you must not permit yourself to forget that your child is in the hands of Him who regards its good in a far higher sense than you can possibly. He never permits sickness of any kind without a good end.”
“I know that, doctor, but I have a mother’s heart. I love my children, and the thought of losing them touches me to the quick.”
“And yet you know that, in passing from this to another state of existence, their condition must be bettered beyond comparison.”
“Oh, yes. Beyond comparison!” replied the mother, half abstractedly, but with touching pathos. “And yet, doctor, I cannot spare them. They are every thing to me.”
“Do not suffer yourself to indulge needless alarm. I will leave you medicine now, and call again to-morrow. If she should be decidedly worse, send for me toward evening.”
After the doctor went away, Mrs. Gaston gave the medicine he had left, as directed, and then forced herself from the bedside, and resumed her work. By the time the button-holes of the garment she was engaged upon were all completed, and the back and shoulder seams sewed up, it was time to see about something for dinner. She put aside the jacket, and went to the bed. Ella lay as if asleep. Her face was flushed, and her skin dry and hot. The mother looked upon her for a few moments with a yearning heart; then, turning away, she took from a closet her
