“‘It is a remarkable case altogether. The pleasure I have taken in it has paid me ten times over for my trouble.’”
“I am sure of it,” said Allison, speaking low and eagerly. “I could never tell you all his kindness. You see it was not just saving a life. It was a far greater thing to do than that. It would not have been so very sad a thing for a child like her to have died, to have been spared the trouble that comes into the life of even the happiest, though many would have missed her sorely. But she might have lived long, and suffered much, and grown weary of her life. It is from that that she has been saved, to happy days, and useful. It will be something to see her father’s face when his eyes light upon her. And the doctor speaks in earnest, when he says he took pleasure in helping the child.”
Doctor Fleming looked up from his letter and smiled, and then read a few words more from it.
“‘You will understand and believe me when I say, that her firm and gentle nurse has done more for the child than I have done. Without her constant, wise and loving care, all else could have availed little. She is a woman among a thousand—a born nurse—’”
Allison laughed softly though the tears came to her eyes.
“Did he say that? He is kind. And I am glad, because—if a time should come when—”
And then she paused as she met Marjorie’s wondering eyes. The doctor had something to say to the child, but he did not linger long. He had come with the intention, also, of saying something to Allison of Brownrig’s condition. But he could not bring himself to do it.
“I will wait for a day or two, to see how it is like to be with him. He is not in a fit state to be moved, as the sight of her would be likely to move him. And even if I knew he were able to bear it, I could not by any words about him, spoil her happy homecoming.”
“A happy homecoming!” It was that truly. When they came to the mill, where the houses on that side of the town begin, Marjorie would have liked to leave the gig, with which Robert had gone to meet them, at the point where they left the mail-coach, that all the folk might see that she could walk, and even run, “like the other bairns.” And then everybody would see how wise her father and mother had been in sending her away to a good man’s care. But Robert laughed at her, and said there would be time enough for all that in the days that were coming, and Allison bade her wait till her father and mother might see her very first steps at home.
The time of their homecoming was known, and there were plenty of people to see them as they passed down the street. Every window and door showed a face which smiled a welcome to the child. As for Marjorie she smiled on them all, and nodded and called out many a familiar name; and there were happy tears in her eyes, and running down her cheeks, before she made the turn which brought the manse in sight.