It was indeed a wonderful delight to Berty’s little family. Driving through the gay streets, where Mrs. Grey took care that Tom should go, in the handsome, easy carriage, would have been pleasure enough, but going in such a way to see Berty, whom they had missed so much, was almost more than they could bear. Then the wide lawn of the hospital, where the little pale children were playing in the sunshine, was a new surprise; and the children’s ward, with its lofty walls and little white beds, in one of which sister Berty lay, looking so placid and happy, seemed like a glimpse of paradise.
You will guess, of course, how joyfully Berty received them; how she hugged little Fritz with her one arm, and set him on the bed beside her, while she made the others stand off, one by one, that she might admire them in the comfortable new clothing; how she thanked Mrs. Grey and the Doctor and Mary; how Tim grinned from ear to ear, and Dr. John rubbed his hands, and Polly clapped hers, and the nurse and old Mrs. Grey both cried, and the hospital children sat up in bed and laughed at the merry hubbub, until the matron came up and chided them all for making such a noise and threatened Dr. John with a policeman if he did not keep his party quiet.
Yes, it was a happy time; and happy, too, though in a different way, was the long quiet time which followed, when, under the Doctor’s kind care, Berty was growing better and stronger every day, and learning every day to love more and more dearly the pleasant room, the lively prints upon the walls, the happy little sick children, the gentle nurses, the good rector who stopped to talk with her so often, and the dear, dear Dr. John, to whom she owed it all.
The Christmas-time to which she had looked forward in her dreary attic on that dismal night—how far away the attic seemed, how long ago the night—was drawing near, was close at hand. Tim told her of the laurel-wreaths which they were hanging in the chapel. Her dearest wish was to get strong enough to go down there with Tim and keep the Christmas feast, and afterwards, perhaps, to have the children come to her again. It would be treat enough for them, she knew, and joy enough for her; but when she asked the Doctor, she got no answer but a smile.
The Doctor was so busy nowadays, perhaps he had no time for anything but smiles. And very busy, too, was little Mary; it was wonderful what a deal of shopping those two found it necessary to do together, and what piles upon piles of parcels, of all shapes and sizes, they brought home at night, and stowed away in that mysterious parlor which no one else was allowed to enter. If Polly paid for all those goods, I think she must have made a requisition upon Dr. John’s newfound pocket-book; for I am sure no little girl’s purse could have been half long enough.
But at last there came a day, the 24th of December it was, when Polly’s purchases seemed to be all made. She did not go down-town at all that day, but spent all the morning closeted with Dr. John in the mysterious room. And, altogether, that seemed to be quite a mysterious day at Mrs. Grey’s; for all day long there came such mysterious noises from the mysterious parlor, and Mrs. Grey and the housekeeper and Nurse Evans went about with such mysterious smiles upon their faces, that even Jenny and Jemmy seemed to have a notion that something was the matter, and no amount of coaxing could keep them in the nursery. Then, towards evening, there came a mysterious ring at the door, and a mysterious stranger was ushered in, whose arrival seemed to fill Dr. Grey and Mary with the most mysterious surprise and delight; and finally the Doctor and Tom took the carriage and went off upon some mysterious errand.
If you could have peeped into the hospital just about that time, you would have seen that the mystery had penetrated even there; for Berty sat, wrapped in cloaks, in a great arm-chair, with a strangely excited expression upon her thin, pale face. She had received that morning a note, in a little white envelope, addressed to Fräulein Bertha Weisser. This note of course she could not read, but Mrs. Gantz read it for her. It was an invitation, in good set terms, to spend the evening with Miss Mary Kendall, at her grandmother’s house; and accompanying this note was a new dress and other very comfortable things for Berty to wear. And so our little Berty sat there, very happy and eager, though a little frightened and shy, waiting for the carriage.
And when the carriage came, and Tom took her up in his strong arms and bore her down to it, a new surprise was waiting for Berty; for there were her little ones all peeping out to greet her with shouts of delight. Berty thought this was all that was needed to make her perfectly happy.
Miss Mary received them with a joyous welcome, and kind Mrs. Grey had a sofa ready furnished with pillows for Berty to rest upon, which Dr. John insisted that she should occupy at once, though she did not feel in the least tired.
The children were very shy at first, but Fritz and the twins soon made friends. Tim took upon himself to entertain Gottlieb, and as for Rosa and Lina, it was entertainment enough for them to look about them. Berty wondered at Tim; he seemed, she thought, quite as much at home in Mrs. Grey’s handsome house as at Biddy Flanagan’s, always the same-merry, good-natured fellow, never shy, and never too forward; she wondered, too, at her little ones, so clean and bright and wholesome; and when she heard Fritzy’s happy laugh, she thought this was even better than the Christmas tree for which she had longed.