As for Berty, she thought she had never felt so happy in her life, even though her wounds were very painful, and the Christmas-tree tapers had utterly gone out; for there was something shining upon Berty which lighted up her heart far more brightly than any Christmas tapers ever could,—her Heavenly Father’s smile. And the Doctor, too, instead of being angry, seemed kinder than ever. He dressed her side and ankle very tenderly, and then sat down by the bed and talked for a long time, asking many questions about her family, and especially about the uncle Gottlieb in the old country, of whom little Mary had told him. Berty knew very little about him, except that he was her mother’s only brother,—that he lived in Frankfort, and belonged to one of the bands which she remembered with such delight as playing at the concerts on the feast-days. Madame Hansmann had written to him, it seemed, after her mother’s death; but they had never received any answer.
“Well, Polly,” said Dr. John, when he went home that evening, “I have found my pocket-book; and, what is more, I have got hold of a famous plan for spending your surplus money.”
“I have a plan, too, cousin John,” said Polly; “but let us hear yours first.”
So the Doctor told Berty’s story, which you will not care to hear for the third time; and as for his famous plan, I mean to keep that for a good ending to my story. Polly liked it very much, and so I dare say will you; but she could not give up her own, and so it was decided that both should be carried out.
“I am glad,” said Polly, when all was finally arranged,—“I am glad, cousin John, that you found your pocket-book, for I should not wonder if you had to lend me some money, after all;” and Dr. John thought to himself, as he looked down at the little girl’s glowing, happy face, that any amount of money would have been well spent in working such a change as these kind schemes had made in his sad, little cousin.
CHAPTER XII.
THE WISH FULFILLED.
Mary’s plan, which developed itself the next day, turned out to be a project for taking the children, in their new clothes, to visit their sister at the hospital. She had stipulated that nothing should be said to Berty, though she had taken care to give Tim warning that he might be on hand to enjoy the surprise. It was a beautiful, bright autumn day, and everything worked to Mary’s satisfaction. Grandmamma seemed to enjoy it as much as she; and even Tom, who had grumbled a good deal at bringing his horses so often into such “ojus” streets, could not resist a contagious grin as he lifted the happy children, one by one, into the carriage.