L. Frank Baum_Aunt Jane 01 (12 page)

This they watched her move, and saw her lie down upon it.

"She's trying to save him—he must be caught somewhere!" cried the
lawyer, and both men started at full speed to reach the spot by the
round-about paths through the garden.

Aunt Jane sat still and watched. Suddenly the form of the boy swung
into view beneath the plank, dangling from the girl's outstretched
arms. The woman caught her breath, wondering what would happen next.
Patricia drew him up, until he seized the plank with his hands. Then
the girl crept back a little, and as the boy swung his feet upward she
caught them and twined his legs over the plank.

And now came the supreme struggle. The girl could do little more to
help him. He must manage to clamber upon the top of the plank himself.

Ordinarily Kenneth might have done this easily; but now his nerves
were all unstrung, and he was half exhausted by the strain of the past
few minutes. Almost he did it; but not quite. The next effort would be
even weaker. But now Patricia walked out upon the plank and Aunt Jane
saw her lean down, grasp the boy's collar and drag him into a position
of safety.

"Bravely done!" she murmured, but even as the sound came from her lips
the girl upon the bridge seemed in the exertion of the struggle to
lose her balance. She threw out her arms, leaned sidewise, and then
fell headlong into the chasm and disappeared from view.

Aunt Jane's agonized scream brought Phibbs running to her side. At
a glance she saw that her mistress had fainted, and looking hastily
around to discover the cause she observed the boy crawl slowly across
the plank, reach the tree, and slide down its trunk to pass out of
view behind the high hedge.

"Drat the boy!" growled the old servant, angrily, "he'll be the death
of Miss Jane, yet."

Uncle John could not run so swiftly as the lawyer, but he broke
through a gap in the hedge and arrived at a point just beneath the
plank at the same time that Silas Watson did.

One glance showed them the boy safely perched on top of the plank,
but the girl was bending backward. She threw out her arms in a vain
endeavor to save herself, and with a low cry toppled and plunged
swiftly toward the ground.

There was little time for the men to consider their actions.
Involuntarily they tried to catch Patricia, whose body struck them
sharply, felling them to the ground, and then bounded against the
hedge and back to the pavement.

When, half dazed, they scrambled to their feet, the girl lay
motionless before them, a stream of red blood welling from a deep cut
in her forhead, her eyes closed as if in sleep.

A moment more and the boy was kneeling beside her, striving to stay
the bleeding with his handkerchief.

"Do something! For God's sake try to do something," he wailed,
piteously. "Can't you see she's killed herself to save me?"

Uncle John knelt down and took the still form in his arms.

"Quiet, my lad," he said. "She isn't dead. Get Nora, and fetch the
doctor as soon as you can."

The boy was gone instantly, his agony relieved by the chance of
action, and followed by the lawyer, Uncle John carried his niece to
the rose chamber and laid her upon her white bed.

Misery met them, then, and following her came Louise and Beth, full of
horror and pity for the victim of the dreadful accident.

Jane Merrick had promptly recovered consciousness, for fainting spells
were foreign to her nature. Her first words to Phibbs, who was bending
over her, were:

"Is she dead?"

"Who, Miss Jane?"

"Patricia."

"I don't know, Miss Jane. Why should she be dead?"

"Run, you idiot! Run at once and find out. Ask my brother—ask
anyone—if Patricia is dead!"

And so Phibbs came to the rose chamber and found the little group
bending over the girl's unconscious form.

"Is she dead, sir? Miss Jane wants to know," said the old servant, in
awe-struck tones.

"No," answered Uncle John, gravely. "She isn't dead, I'm sure; but I
can't tell how badly she is hurt. One of her legs—the right one—is
broken, I know, for I felt it as I carried the child in my arms; but
we must wait until the doctor comes before I can tell more."

Misery was something of a nurse, it seemed, and with the assistance of
Louise, who proved most helpful in the emergency, she bathed the
wound in the girl's forehead and bandaged it as well as she was able.
Between them the women also removed Patricia's clothing and got her
into bed, where she lay white and still unconscious, but breathing so
softly that they knew she was yet alive.

The doctor was not long in arriving, for Kenneth forced him to leap
upon Nora's back and race away to Elmhurst, while the boy followed as
swiftly as he could on the doctor's sober cob.

Dr. Eliel was only a country practitioner, but his varied experiences
through many years had given him a practical knowledge of surgery,
and after a careful examination of Patricia's injuries he was able to
declare that she would make a fine recovery.

"Her leg is fractured, and she's badly bruised," he reported to Aunt
Jane, who sent for him as soon as he could leave the sick room. "But I
do not think she has suffered any internal injuries, and the wound on
her forehead is a mere nothing. So, with good care, I expect the young
lady to get along nicely."

"Do everything you can for her," said the woman, earnestly. "You shall
be well paid, Dr. Eliel."

Before Patricia recovered her senses the doctor had sewn up her
forehead and set the fractured limb, so that she suffered little pain
from the first.

Louise and Beth hovered over her constantly, ministering to every
possible want and filled with tenderest sympathy for their injured
cousin. The accident seemed to draw them out of their selfishness and
petty intrigues and discovered in them the true womanly qualities that
had lurked beneath the surface.

Patsy was not allowed to talk, but she smiled gratefully at her
cousins, and the three girls seemed suddenly drawn nearer together
than any of them would have thought possible a few hours before.

The boy paced constantly up and down outside Patricia's door, begging
everyone who left the room, for news of the girl's condition. All his
reserve and fear of women seemed to have melted away as if by magic.
Even Beth and Louise were questioned eagerly, and they, having learned
the story of Patricia's brave rescue of the boy, were very gentle with
him and took pains not to frighten or offend him.

Toward evening Louise asked Patricia if she would see Kenneth for a
moment, and the girl nodded a ready assent.

He came in awkward and trembling, glancing fearfully at the bandaged
forehead and the still white face. But Patricia managed to smile
reassuringly, and held out a little hand for him to take. The boy
grasped it in both his own, and held it for several minutes while he
stood motionless beside her, his wide eyes fixed intently upon her
own.

Then Louise sent him away, and he went to his room and wept profusely,
and then quieted down into a sort of dull stupor.

The next morning Uncle John dragged him away from Patricia's door and
forced him to play chess. The boy lost every game, being inattentive
and absorbed in thought, until finally Uncle John gave up the attempt
to amuse him and settled himself on the top stair for a quiet smoke.
The boy turned to the table, and took a sheet of paper from the
drawer. For an hour, perhaps, neither of these curious friends spoke
a word, but at the end of that time Uncle John arose and knocked the
ashes from his pipe. Kenneth did not notice him. The man approached
the table and looked over the boy's shoulder, uttering an exclamation
of surprise. Upon the paper appeared a cleverly drawn pencil sketch
of Patricia lying in her bed, a faint smile upon her face and her big
blue eyes turned pleasantly upon a shadowy form that stood beside her
holding her hand. The likeness was admirable, and if there were faults
in the perspective and composition Uncle John did not recognize them.

He gave a low whistle and turned thoughtfully away, and the young
artist was so absorbed that he did not even look up.

Strolling away to the stables, Uncle John met old Donald, who
enquired:

"How is Miss Patsy this morning, sir?" It was the name she had given,
and preferred to be called by.

"She's doing finely," said Uncle John.

"A brave girl, sir!"

"Yes, Donald."

"And the boy?"

"Why, he seems changed, in some way, Donald. Not so nervous and wild
as usual, you know. I've just left him drawing a picture. Curious. A
good picture, too."

"Ah, he can do that, sir, as well as a real artist."

"Have you known him to draw, before this?"

"Why, he's always at it, sir, in his quieter moods. I've got a rare
good likeness o' myself, as he did long ago, in the harness-room."

"May I see it?"

"With pleasure, sir."

Donald led the way to the harness-room, and took from the cupboard the
precious board he had so carefully preserved.

Uncle John glanced at it and laughed aloud. He could well appreciate
the humor of the sketch, which Donald never had understood, and the
caricature was as clever as it was amusing. He handed the treasure
back to Donald and went away even more thoughtful than before.

A few days later a large package arrived at Elmhurst addressed to
Kenneth Forbes, and Oscar carried it at once to the boy's room, who
sat for an hour looking at it in silent amazement. Then he carefully
unwrapped it, and found it to contain a portable easel, a quantity of
canvas and drawing-paper, paints and oils of every description
(mostly all unknown to him) and pencils, brushes and water colors in
profusion.

Kenneth's heart bounded with joy. Here was wealth, indeed, greater
than he had ever hoped for. He puzzled his brain for weeks to discover
how this fairy gift had ever come to him, but he was happier in its
possession than he had ever been before in all his life.

Patricia improved rapidly. Had it not been for the broken leg she
would have been out of the house in a week, as good as ever; but
broken limbs take time to heal, and Dr. Eliel would not permit the
girl to leave her bed until ten days had passed.

Meantime everyone delighted to attend her. Louise and Beth sat with
her for hours, reading or working, for the rose chamber was cheery and
pleasant, and its big windows opened upon the prettiest part of the
gardens. The two girls were even yet suspicious of one another, each
striving to win an advantage with Aunt Jane; but neither had the
slightest fear that Patricia would ever interfere with their plans. So
they allowed their natural inclinations to pet and admire the heroine
of the hour full sway, and Patsy responded so sweetly and frankly to
their advances that they came to love her dearly, and wondered why
they had not discovered from the first how lovable their Irish cousin
could be.

Kenneth, also came daily to the sick room for a visit, and Patsy had
a way of drawing the boy out and making him talk that was really
irresistible. After his fairy gift arrived he could not help telling
the girls all about it and then he brought the things down and
displayed them, and promised Patsy he would make a picture of the
garden for her.

Then, after the girl got better, he brought his easel down to her
room, where she could watch him work, and began upon the picture,
while the cousins joined him in speculations as to who the mysterious
donor could he.

"At first," said Kenneth, "I thought it was Mr. Watson, for he's alway
been very good to me; but he says he knows nothing about it. Then I
though it might be Uncle John; but Uncle John is too poor to afford
such an expensive present."

"I don't believe he has a penny in the world," said Louise, who sat by
with some needle-work.

"All he owns," remarked Beth, with a laugh, "is an extra necktie,
slightly damaged."

"But he's a dear old man," said Patsy, loyally, "and I'm sure he would
have given all those things to Kenneth had he been able."

"Then who was it?" asked the boy.

"Why, Aunt Jane, to be sure," declared Patsy.

The boy scowled, and shook his head.

"She wouldn't do anything to please me, even to save her life," he
growled. "She hates me, I know that well enough."

"Oh, no; I'm sure she doesn't," said Patsy. "Aunt Jane has a heap
of good in her; but you've got to dig for it, like you do for gold.
'Twould be just like her to make you this present and keep it a
secret."

"If she really did it," replied the boy, slowly, "and it seems as if
she is the only one. I know who could afford such a gift, it stands to
reason that either Uncle John or Mr. Watson asked her to, and she did
it to please them. I've lived here for years, and she has never spoken
a kindly word to me or done me a kindly act. It isn't likely she'd
begin now, is it?"

Unable to make a reassuring reply, Patsy remained silent, and the boy
went on with his work. He first outlined the picture in pencil, and
then filled it in with water color. They all expressed admiration for
the drawing; but the color effect was so horrible that even Patsy
found no words to praise it, and the boy in a fit of sudden anger tore
the thing to shreds and so destroyed it.

"But I must have my picture, anyhow," said the girl. "Make it in pen
and ink or pencil, Ken. and I'm sure it will be beautiful."

"You need instruction, to do water color properly," suggested Louise.

"Then I can never do it," he replied, bitterly. But he adopted Patsy's
suggestion and sketched the garden very prettily in pen and ink.
By the time the second picture was completed Patsy had received
permission to leave her room, which she did in Aunt Jane's second-best
wheel chair.