Part 25 (1/2)
When Joggi got thus far in his story, he began to cry and groan, and would not be pacified.
CHAPTER VII.
ANDREW IS BETTER, AND SOMEBODY ELSE, ALSO.
Mrs. Ritter went, as usual, to visit her friend, but no longer remained closeted with Trine, for she could now go freely into his room, talk with him for a little while, and mark his daily improvement. Otto and p.u.s.s.y also paid several visits, armed with dainties for their favorite.
So that Andrew said to the old Trine, with great feeling, ”If I were a king, they could not show me more kindness.”
The doctor was well pleased with the rapidity of the cure, and said to the colonel, whom he met on the threshold one day,--
”Every thing has worked wonderfully well. Your wife can have her Trine back again; and tell her she was worth her weight in gold. I only wish there were some one to stay with Andrew for a little while; or who could come in, now and then, to help him. The poor fellow must have something to eat, and he has no wife nor child,--in fact, n.o.body. Do ask Mrs.
Ritter if she cannot think of something that will help us.”
The colonel carried his message correctly, and his wife went the next day to Andrew's, as usual; and, seating herself by his bedside, said, without circ.u.mlocution, ”I have something to say to you, Andrew. Are you inclined to listen to me?”
”Certainly, certainly. Every thing you do is right,” said Andrew, supporting his head on his hand, and prepared to give her all his attention.
”I am going to take Trine away, now that you are so well,” began Mrs. Ritter.
”Oh, dear lady, I beg you to believe me, I have wished to send her home for a long time past. I know how much you must miss her.”
”I would not have allowed her to enter my house, if she had tried to come back before,” replied Mrs. Ritter. ”But now it is different: the doctor has dismissed her. He says, however,--and I fully agree with him,--that you need some one who can wait upon you, cook for you, or fetch your food from my house, and do a hundred little things: somebody for at least a few weeks. Now, Andrew, why cannot you have little Wiseli to do this?”
The words were scarcely spoken, when Andrew almost sprang up in his bed.
”No, no, Mrs. Ritter; certainly not!” he said, and became very red from excitement. ”I could not dream of such a thing. Could I lie here in bed, and let that delicate little thing work for me out there in the kitchen?
Oh! in Heaven's name, how could I think of her poor mother, where she lies buried? How she would look at me, if she knew of my doing such a thing. No, no, Mrs. Ritter; I would rather not get well at all.”
Mrs. Ritter did not try to stop him; but, when he sunk back again upon his pillow, she said quietly,--
”It is not any thing very shocking, however, that I have proposed, Andrew: think it over now. You know what kind of care Wiseli is getting, do you not? Do you suppose she has nothing to do there, or even light work suitable to her strength? Hard work she has, and hard words with it. Would you give her any thing like that? Do you know what the child's mother would do, if she were standing here by our side? She would thank you, with tears in her eyes, if you would take her child into your house, where she could be happy. I am sure of that. And you would soon see how useful she would make herself.”
After these touching words, Andrew began to take another view of the matter. He wiped his eyes, and said softly, ”How can I be sure that the child would be willing? And how can I get her? Her cousin would not wish to part with her, probably.”
”That is all right. You need not trouble yourself about that, Andrew,”
said his friend, cheerfully, as she rose to go. ”I will attend to it all for you. It is a thing about which I have thought long and anxiously.”
She took her leave; but, as she was pa.s.sing out of the door, Andrew called out again,--
”Only in case Wiseli herself is perfectly willing: you will not forget that, please, Mrs. Ritter.”
She promised again that the child should come gladly, or not at all, and left the house.
She went down the hill at once to the beech grove, for she was impatient to take Wiseli where she could think of her in safety. She met the cousin Gotti just as he was himself entering his own house. He saluted her, without concealing his surprise at her visit. But she did not leave him in doubt for a moment over the object that brought her there, and how anxious she was that Wiseli should take charge of the wounded Andrew at once, as she was sure she could do, if they were willing. His wife, who was in the kitchen, came directly she heard their voices, and was at once informed of Mrs. Ritter's proposition. But she answered that it was not possible, for the child was not able to be of use to anybody. But her husband interposed. The truth should be told: Wiseli was able and willing to work, and did so, well and intelligently. He did not wish to have her go, for she was useful and obedient. He would not refuse, for two weeks or so, to let her nurse Andrew. He would not probably need her longer than that, and then she must come back; for there was a great deal of work on hand against the spring.
”Yes, yes,” said his wife. ”I have no mind to begin it all over again teaching her, it has given me so much trouble already. If Andrew wants anybody to help him, let him get somebody for himself.”
”Well, well; for two weeks, as I have promised, she shall go. It is our duty to help a neighbor, if we can.”