Christmas brought a shower of presents to the Fairchild household. Mrs. Fairchild said they should live on turkey till they should all begin to gobble. Mr. Francis sent fruit and oysters, and all kind of good things—presents for the children—and a beautiful muff and tippet for Mrs. Fairchild. Miss Barnard sent Flora a package of valuable books, and she had other presents from ladies for whom she had worked at the Springs. There was no end to the nice and pretty and useful things which came to the little white house that day. Mrs. Fairchild said she never could have believed, when Mr. Fairchild died, that she could be so happy again.
"To be sure, your dear father isn't here," said she, wiping her eyes, "and it never can be the same without him, but I don't feel to murmur. We have been so marvellously helped through this year, that seemed at first as if it would be so dismal and so hard. Flora has more work than she can do, and Eben, he makes friends on every side, and I could have all the work I wanted going out nursing. I do think we have a great deal to be thankful for. If Eben's knee was only well, I should feel quite content."
Eben's knee was indeed his only serious trouble. He was gaining health and strength day by day, but his knee was still stiff, and likely to remain so. Dr. Porter, being one day at the Springs, rode over to see him, and after examining the joint told him kindly but decidedly that he would never have any use of it again. This was a terrible blow to Eben. He had got used to his business in the mill, and liked it; he was trusted, and had every prospect of rising, and now to be laid aside was very hard. He had hoped that, by being careful and saving, he could eventually lay aside money enough to gain the medical education on which his heart was still set, but now that chance seemed to vanish into air. He did not see how he was to earn his living, much less lay by anything. He might, to be sure, learn bookkeeping, and in time get a place as clerk or accountant, but he disliked figures, and never could work at then long at a time without making his head ache. It was a dreary lookout. Eben needed all his philosophy and all his religion to meet it.
Two or three days after Dr. Porter's decision, Eben was agreeably surprised by a visit from Dr. Henry. Eben happened to be alone in the house when he came, for his mother had been sent for in desperate haste to meet a sudden emergency, and Flora had seized the chance of a ride to carry some work over to the Cure. The doctor, however, made his way in without ceremony—with which, indeed, he was seldom troubled—and sat down by Eben's sofa.
"All alone?" said he.
"Mother was called to go to Mrs. Bennett's in a desperate hurry just now, and Flora had to go out," said Eben. "I suppose she will be back presently."
"Your mother seems to make herself generally useful. So she ought, for she is one of the best nurses I ever saw, and people who have that talent ought not to hide it in the earth. Well, how are you getting on?"
"Pretty well," said Eben, but he sighed as he spoke.
"That didn't sound much like it. What's the matter? Does your knee pain you still?"
"Not much, except at changes in the weather, but Dr. Porter was here a few days ago, and he says I shall never have any use of the joint again."