For two days, Daniella had kept up the fire, had fed her grandfather, had looked after her chickens and the pigs and now was anxiously wondering why her mother did not come. Did it take so long to sell a dozen rabbits? In the small square window her anxious little face was framed as a party of young people came up the road. Daniella recognized them at once. There was the young lady who had promised her the red jacket and with her were two younger girls one of whom she had seen before. Daniella stood watching them. They came straight to the cabin and knocked on the door. Daniella opened to them.
"May we come in?" said Polly. "I have brought your red jacket."
Daniella's dark eyes sparkled, and she stepped aside that her visitors might enter. "Maw done gone to town," she said. "Tain't nobody hyah 'scusin' me an' grandad sence day 'fo' yessaday mawnin'." She had been so long with only the doddering old man in the corner that she was ready to talk.
"When do you expect your mother?" asked Polly.
"I dunno. She say when she done sell her rabbits she come back. Hit take a pow'ful time to sell rabbits, don't it?"
"It ought not to," answered Polly a little uneasily. She was wondering if the woman had deserted her daughter or if any ill could have befallen her. "Aren't you afraid to stay here alone?" she asked.
"No'm. Grandad jest lak a baby an' I kin cook the wittles, but I wisht maw'd git back."
The old man in the chimney corner stirred and looked vacantly toward the visitors. "Fine day," he said, wagging his head, then he added in a confidential whisper, "but they won't find it."
"Now, grandad," chided Daniella, "jest you quit talkin'."
The old man turned again to the fire and mumbled something about no one's ever finding out anything from him. Meanwhile the girls looked around the room. It was fairly clean, though dingy. A four post bedstead over which was a patchwork quilt, stood in one corner; in another was a sort of bunk over which was thrown a hairy robe of skins sewed together; two hickory chairs, a rude stool, a bench, a table made up the rest of the furniture. On a shelf was a pile of dishes and against the wall hung a few cooking utensils. It was by far the simplest establishment the girls had ever been in.
Polly produced the red jacket, known in common parlance by the unpleasant name of "sweater," and Daniella gave an exclamation of pleasure. "Try it on," said Polly, holding it out, and Daniella thrust her arms into the sleeves. She gave no thanks, but her evident delight was sufficient.
"Ef I had a pair of shoes I'd go hunt up maw," she said. "Leastways, I'd go if I could leave the old man."
"The shoes are here, too," said Polly, as she drew from her bag both shoes and stockings.
Daniella straightway plumped down on the floor to try them on. "Shoes never feels good," she said, "but these is the nicest feelin' I ever had. Oh, I wisht maw would come. Do you reckon she could take all this time to sell rabbits? She had twelve of 'em. We trapped 'em, her an' me. She was goin' to take 'em to the sto' and git things fo' 'em, an' then she was comin' back."
"She ought to be here then," said Polly.
"I wisht I could go hunt her up," said Daniella, anxiously. "You don't reckon nothin' could have ketched her, do you?"
"No, I don't see why anything should," Polly tried to reassure her. She gave a glance at the others, a glance which Daniella read with alarm.
"Yuh-alls thinks somethin's went wrong with my maw," she cried. Daniella looked helplessly at the old man. "I dassent leave him, I dassent, an' I wants to fin' my maw."
Without a word to the others, Nan stepped forward. "I'll stay with your grandfather," she said. "You go to town with my cousin and my sister and hunt up your mother. I'll stay till you can come back."
"Oh, Nan!" Mary Lee gave a low ejaculation.
"Oh, Nan!" repeated Polly, "ought you?"
Nan nodded. "Yes, I think I ought."
"I won't forget you," said Daniella in a low tense voice. "You're good, you are, an' I'll work fo' you. I'll trap rabbits fo' you, I'll get nuts fo' you, I will. Grandad ain't no trouble, but you has to watch him lessen he sets hisse'f on fiah, an' he has to hev his supper airly. I'll come right back soon as I finds maw," she promised eagerly.
"I will stay till you come," said Nan, steadily.
"Thar's a pone o' braid on the shelf, un'er thet dish," said Daniella, "an' thar's rashers hangin' up thar, an' thar's long sweetenin' in thet jug. Thar am' no other kin'."
Nan was mystified but she said nothing.
"All grandad has to hev is a bowl of coffee an' some braid," Daniella went on. "I'm goin' away fur a little while, grandad," she said, turning to the old man. "Now you behave yo'se'f an' don't give no trouble."
"Nobody'll git anythin' outen me," said the old man with a chuckle. "I'll be as dumb as an oyster."
"He don't know what I'm talkin' about," Daniella explained. "You needn't min' him, jest keep up the fiah an' see that he doesn't fool with hit."
"If we're going, we must start at once," said Polly, "so you can get back to-night, Nan," to which remark Nan heartily agreed.
The glory of the red jacket and new shoes did not fill Daniella's thoughts, for now that her fears were aroused, she was more and more anxious about her mother, and she climbed up into the carriage with no just appreciation of the situation.
At the last moment, Polly came back. "It seems perfectly dreadful to leave you here with that silly old man, Nan," she said. "I shall not have an easy moment till I know you are safe at home."
"Oh, don't bother about me," Nan replied. "I shall do very well, but I do hope Daniella will get back before night."
So they drove off and the last thing that Nan saw of them was the gleam of the red jacket as the carriage disappeared behind the trees down the longer and less steep road by which it had come. She wondered what she would do with herself during the hours which must intervene before she could be released. But here her habit of dreaming came in well, and she was presently building air-castles while the old man dozed, or muttered to himself in the corner.
CHAPTER XV
SACRIFICES
It was many an hour before Nan was relieved of her self-imposed task of keeping house for old Daniel Boggs, and in the meantime Daniella was going through such experiences as her wildest dreams had never suggested to her.
Polly drove directly home to consult her parents about the best way to set to work to look for Mrs. Boggs, but she found neither her father nor mother at the house, though her brother Tom happened to be in, and volunteered to go down-town to make inquiries.
"If anything has happened to her in town, they will know at the police station or the hospital," he said. "I'll go to the station first, for it is right on my way. If I hear anything there, I'll follow it up."
Polly led Daniella, conscious of new shoes and jacket, into the house where she sat stiffly on the edge of a chair, refusing to move or to speak, lost in wonderment. Never before had she been in such a room as that into which Polly took her, although it was but the plainly furnished sitting-room of an ordinary house. Never before had Daniella seen pictures in gilt frames, books in colored bindings, carpeted floors or curtained windows. She sat as if in a dream, staring around in amazement. She was too proud to ask questions, too shy to leave her chair, too embarrassed to speak.
Within half an hour, Tom Lewis returned. He called to Polly, but Daniella heard him, and with a swift direct movement darted toward the entry where he was. She stood rigidly erect waiting for his first words. "Come out here, Polly," he said. "I want to speak to you." And he led his sister to the porch. "I couldn't tell you while that child's great eyes were upon me," he said. "I have found her mother. She is at the hospital badly hurt. She has been unconscious, or at least delirious, and they could not discover her name till this morning. Now, what's to be done?"
"Nan mustn't stay up there, and the old man is to be considered," said Polly thoughtfully. "Perhaps, Tom, I'd better go over and speak to Aunt Sarah. Mary Lee and Phil went over and have given her some idea of the state of things. Meanwhile, you hunt up father and see if he can advise anything to be done about that old man. We can't, for humanity's sake, allow Daniella to stay there in that lonely cabin while her mother is getting well."
"And we must get Nan home," said Tom. "I'll find father, Polly, and he'll know what's best. The woman is not likely to be out for some weeks, they told me."
"Dear, dear," exclaimed Polly.
"What woman? Where is she?" cried an excited voice at her side. Polly turned to put her arm around Daniella who was looking at her with big frightened eyes. "Your mother has been hurt, Daniella, dear. She was run over by a wagon on the street, but she is in good hands and – "
"Where is she? Where?" interrupted Daniella, wrenching herself away. "I wants to see her. Take me to her."
"I cannot this minute, but you shall see her as soon as we can make arrangements. Be a good girl, Daniella, and don't make a fuss. We are going to do all we can for both you and your mother."
Daniella choked back a great sob, but sat down on a chair in the hall, her eyes like those of some patient, suffering animal.
Polly took a seat beside her. "We are not going to let you stay up on the mountain alone, so far from your mother," she went on gently. "My brother has gone to find out what can be done about your grandfather. Now, will you stay here, or will you come with me to Nan's home? Nan, you know, is the one who is staying with your grandfather."
Daniella nodded. "I know her name; I ain't goin' to fergit it neither. I'll go thar with you."
Polly took her to where Aunt Sarah was listening to Mary Lee's account of the afternoon's adventure. "What's this?" said Miss Dent, as Polly entered. "Why did you let Nan stay up there, Polly?"
"She wanted to stay," said Polly with a warning look. "This is Daniella Boggs, Aunt Sarah. We have just heard that her mother has met with an accident and is in the hospital. The nurses assured Tom that she was doing well, but we must make arrangements for Daniella." She followed Aunt Sarah into the next room where they talked in low tones together while Mary Lee, Phil and the twins put their heads together to make a plan of their own.
Daniella sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands clenched and her tears rolling down upon the red jacket. She could no longer keep them back. Presently the children left her there and she could hear them all talking in the adjoining room.
"Please, Aunt Sarah," begged Jack.
"Oh, do, auntie," pleaded Jean.
"I'll go without butter," put in Mary Lee.
"And I'll empty my savings bank," added Phil.
"Go 'long, go 'long, all of you," said Aunt Sarah. "Wait till your elders have talked this thing over and then we will see."
"One more couldn't make so very, very much difference," Mary Lee began again.
"And we could sleep three in a bed," Jean's voice came in.
"Or we could do something. There's a lot of room if we only had the furniture," Jack's argument followed.
"I'll bet mother has a bedstead to spare," Phil chimed in eagerly, "and we could rig up one of those dressing-table things out of boxes."
"Hush, hush," Aunt Sarah commanded. "You drive me wild. Not another word, Phil Lewis, till I see your father."
Then all of them trooped back into the room where Daniella was sitting. "Now, Daniella," said Polly, "you are to stay here with these little girls till we get everything arranged, and when I come back, I will take you to see your mother, if I can." And she went off with Miss Sarah, leaving Daniella feeling desolate and scared.
The children, however, could not avoid the subject which was so near to their hearts. All their young sympathies were aroused. They would have given Daniella any of their possessions, and were ready to make any sacrifices. "Did they not know what it meant to have a mother ill and away from them?"
"Our mother is ill, too," said Mary Lee, "and she is way off, too far for us ever to go and see her. She had to go there so as to get well."
Daniella felt the sympathy which this state of affairs must bring about, and she wiped her eyes upon the back of her hand, and tried to force back her tears.
"Wouldn't you like to stay with us till your mother gets well?" ventured Jack, eyeing the disconsolate Daniella.
Daniella blinked away her tears but made no reply.
"Hush, Jack," said Mary Lee in a half whisper. "You mustn't say that yet."
"I just wanted to know," said Jack, still gazing at Daniella.
"It isn't polite for you to stare so," whispered Mary Lee, and Jack turned away her eyes.
"What do you suppose they will do now with the money we made at the bazaar?" whispered Jean to Phil. But he shook his head reprovingly at her.
They found that they could not draw Daniella into conversation, but they did not think it polite to leave her. Jack brought her a picture-book to look at. She stared at the pictures uncomprehendingly.
Mary Lee produced a piece of needlework she was doing; it had no better effect.
Jean ran out and brought back Rubaiyat, whom she placed in Daniella's lap. Then the forlorn little stranger smiled and smoothed the soft fur.
Encouraged by this, and not to be outdone by her twin, Jack rushed to the kitchen and came back with a cake and an apple which she offered to the interesting visitor.
Daniella eyed the apple for a moment and then shook her head. She was not going to seem to need food in the presence of these more favored children. But she seemed to take comfort in cuddling Ruby and they felt that they had done all that they could.
In the course of an hour Colonel Lewis came in with his daughter and Miss Sarah. "Tom and I have arranged it," he told Phil in answer to the eager questions he put as he ran out to meet them. "We've found a place to take the grandfather. He must go to the County Asylum, as his mind is impaired. We must get Nan home right away, so Tom or I will drive up for her and bring the old man back. They'll keep him at the hospital to-night and to-morrow he can go to the place I spoke of. He will be well cared for."
"And what about Daniella?" asked Phil.
"That's not settled yet. She will stay here till we can determine what is best to be done. The main thing now is to get Nan home. I feel very loth to leave her there alone a moment longer than necessary. Mrs. Boggs is in good hands and is improving."
As Polly entered the room, she said, "Now, Daniella, you may go to see your mother." Down went Ruby, awakened rudely from the nap she was taking in Daniella's lap, and the little girl, without waiting for further invitation, darted out the door. She ran down to the gate so fast that Polly could not overtake her. "Wait, Daniella, wait," she called. "You don't know which way to go." Then Daniella paused and those watching saw them go swiftly down the street.
During the time that all this was going on, Nan was patiently keeping watch in the cabin. The short winter day was drawing to a close when she stirred the fire and tried to set a kettle of water to boil. Little as she was used to cooking, she was less used to an open fire, and found some difficulty in making the coffee. But she accomplished it at last, emptied some into a bowl and poured into it a liberal supply of "long sweetening" which she discovered to be molasses, then putting some of the corn bread upon a plate, she set it before the old man. He was able to feed himself which he did noisily, but with evident enjoyment. Nan could touch none of the food herself, though she was hungry after a picnic lunch taken on the drive up the mountain. The hours began to drag wearily. Once in a while, the old man would make some meaningless remark, supposing Nan to be his granddaughter. Two or three times he attempted to meddle with the fire, but Nan was able to stop him. He was simple and harmless, but, like a child, in danger of doing himself an injury by some sudden piece of mischief.
Nan wondered how Daniella could stand living in the little cooped up, bare cabin, how she could endure the privations and the lack of companionship. As the shadows deepened, she began to fear it might be possible that she would have to stay there all night, and was relieved to hear the sound of wheels, and then her Cousin Tom Lewis's voice.
"Heigho, Nan!" he cried, "Ran and I have come for you."
"Is Daniella with you?" asked Nan, peering out the door.
"No," answered Tom as he came up to the cabin.
"Oh, then I can't leave. I'll have to stay with the old man," returned Nan with a great feeling of disappointment. "I promised, you know."
Tom came forward. "No, you won't stay," he said. "We are going to take the old man, too. Where is he?"
"In there by the fire. Oh, Cousin Tom, who says he is to go, and where are you going to take him? What's become of Daniella, and has anything happened to her mother?"
"One question at a time, please. It is all right about the old gentleman, so don't you bother. The first thing to do is to get him ready, and then there'll be time to answer your questions on the way home. I've brought an old army overcoat to wrap him up in, for I didn't suppose we should find much here, from what Polly said."
The bewildered old man was soon bundled into the carriage. He whimpered like a child at being taken from the cabin, and kept saying over and over, "I'm innercent, I'm innercent. I never took no hand in the business."
"He probably imagines we are sheriffs after him for a moonshiner," said Tom. "Poor old chap!" He tried to reassure the old man but found it was no use, and after a while he lapsed into silence, seeming to find comfort alone in the supposed fact that his granddaughter was with him.
On the way down the mountain, Nan learned of all that had happened since morning, and kept up such a running fire of questions and comments as made Tom declare she must have been all day thinking them up.
She felt that she had been away for weeks when at last they stopped before her own door. Was it only that morning that they had started out to take the red jacket to Daniella?
Mary Lee and the twins rushed out to meet her, full of the day's happenings. "Daniella's here," cried Mary Lee.
"Yes, and she's been to see her mother at the hospital," said Jack.
"And her mother is crite ill," put in Jean. "Cousin Polly says she can't take any food except licrids because she has such a fever. She was hurt awfully, but she told Cousin Polly they couldn't have done more for her if she had been a creen."
"We want to keep Daniella here," Mary Lee went on, "and Aunt Sarah is thinking about it."
"Where is Daniella now?" asked Nan.
"She's at the hospital. Cousin Tom is going to bring her back when he takes her grandfather there. Isn't it a good thing that Cousin Philip is one of the directors? He had everything hurried up and settled so much sooner. Was it very awful staying up there all day, Nan? Were you scared?"
"It was lonesome, but I wasn't frightened. There wasn't anything to do but give the old man his supper and keep him from fooling with the fire. I couldn't eat their messes myself."
"Then you must be half starved," said Mary Lee. "You poor child. We waited supper for you all. Mitty is putting it on the table now."
Nan thought that never before in her life had batter bread and cold ham tasted so good. Never had biscuits and baked apples such a flavor.
After supper, Miss Sarah called the four girls to her. "Now, children," she said, "the little girl will be here presently, and before she gets here we must understand whether she is to stay or not. They will take her in at the Children's Home or the St. Mary's Orphan Asylum, while her mother is ill, so we need not feel that she will not be looked after."
"Oh, but it would be dreadful to shut up that little wild thing in a strict place like the Home or the Asylum," said Nan, with keen appreciation of what Daniella would suffer.
"But you know, my dear, that every penny counts with us, and that all that can be spared must go for your mother's expenses. If we keep the child here, even for a couple of months, she will have to have clothing, her board will cost something, and it will mean sacrifices on the part of all of us. Now, the question is: What are you willing to give up?"
"I think I can get along without anything more in the way of clothes this winter," said Nan, visions of a new frock fading away.
"And I am sure I can if Nan can," said Mary Lee, readily.
"I'll wear hand-me-downs and not say a word," said Jack, "and I'll give Daniella all my rice pudding."
"Because you don't like it," Jean spoke with scorn.
"Well, never mind, if she likes it, what's the difference?" said Jack, argumentatively. "If I gave up something she didn't like and that I did, it wouldn't do her any good. You haven't said yet that you'd give up anything."
"Of course I'll give up something," declared Jean, offended. "I'll give up whatever Aunt Sarah says I ought."
"Good little girl," said Aunt Sarah, approvingly. "I hope you will not have to give up much. You younger ones can always take the clothes of the older ones, and as for food we shall not be able to set a very much plainer table on account of our boarders. I think there will be rice pudding enough for every one, but we'll have gingerbread instead of rich cake, and eat more oatmeal instead of so many hot griddle-cakes."
"I suppose they do take a crauntity of butter," sighed Jean, who liked griddle-cakes above all things.
"We'll eat 'long sweetening' on them," said Nan, with a smile at the recollection of the Boggs's molasses jug. "By the way, I never thought of Daniella's chickens and her little pig. They killed the big pig, and there is quite a lot of meat up there. Some one will have to go up there after those things."
"They can be sold," said Aunt Sarah, "and that will help out their expenses."
"Oh, can't we keep the chickens and the little pig? Then Daniella won't cost us anything for eggs."
"But the chickens will cost us something for food," argued Miss Sarah.
"Oh, dear, I forgot that they must be fed. I always think of chickens just picking and scratching around for a living," said Nan. "Well, Aunt Sarah, is it settled? Do we keep Daniella here or don't we?"
"If you all are willing to make the sacrifices, we will keep her, but you must not murmur. I want you to realize what it means. Now, in the flush of your generous spirit, it seems easy, but after a while, when your coat looks shabby, Nan, and your best frock is too short, and when Mary Lee must wear her old hat and Jack must be satisfied with made-over clothing, and rice-pudding oftener, when Jean can't have griddle-cakes swimming in butter, and must have her shoes mended and remended, it may not seem so easy. My own inclination is always to fling wide a hospitable door, but we must think of what is due to your mother before anything else."
The four children were silent. They realized the truth of all this. At last Jack spoke up. "I don't care; I'd just as soon have the made-overs; you don't have to be near so careful of them."
"There is some comfort in that," agreed Nan. "Yes, Aunt Sarah, we'll do it, won't we, Mary Lee?"
"I will, if you will."
"Then it's settled," Nan declared. "Daniella is to be ours till further notice. Will she go to school, Aunt Sarah? She doesn't know even how to read."
"We can see about that later," Aunt Sarah told her.
Later, this question did come up, for when the chickens and pig were domiciled at the Corners' and Daniella had become used to her surroundings, she realized that if she would be like the rest she must know much more than she did. At first she was like some little wild animal, and could not be kept in the house, saying she could not breathe there. She was shy of every one but Nan and Mary Lee, and fled at the approach of strangers. She did not know how to wear the clothing provided for her, nor had she ever been inside a church. Shops were a marvel and a school was something that had to be elaborately explained, but in time she came to understand that she was unlike the rest of the world and that if she would be in it she must be of it. Then she told Nan she wanted to know what was inside books, and she would go to school. One day of the routine was enough for her. She escaped before the morning was half over to Nan's mortification.
"You ought at least to have stayed till noon," she said, chidingly.
"I couldn't, I couldn't," replied Daniella vehemently. "I felt like a wild creetur in a trap, and them gals starin' and snickerin' made me feel like a fool thing. I ain't goin' to set alongside o' babies, an' I ain't no right with gals my own size. I don't want to hev nothin' to do with none of 'em, 'scusin' you an' Mary Lee. If I never l'arns nothin', I ain't goin' to be cooped up lak a po' trapped rabbit or a bird in a cage. I don't keer if I don't know nothin'. Maw'll love me jest the same."
Nan was quite distressed. She had felt a real missionary spirit in rescuing Daniella from the depths of her ignorance. She dreamed of the day when she should be proud of her, when pretty little Daniella would appear as well as any girl, but now her hopes were blasted. She thought long upon the subject. She discussed it with her sisters, with her Aunt Sarah, with Cousin Polly and Cousin Mag but no one could seem to offer a solution to the problem. It was cruel, every one thought, to send a girl to school who felt so keenly about it. Why make her miserable for the short time she was living in a civilized community? After a while she would have to return to her wild life, then where would be the good of having made her unhappy?
But Nan felt differently about it. She had a scheme of teaching Daniella herself, but the mountain girl spurned it, and said she wasn't goin' to hav no gal her own size l'arnin' her, though if the truth were known, she really did not want to give Nan the task. So at last Nan took her difficulty to her Aunt Helen, and here she found a friend in need, for Miss Helen declared that nothing would interest her more than to teach Daniella for an hour or two a day.
"She is like a blank, unwritten page," she said. "And I'd like the experience of putting my mark upon her. I should like to try some of my own theories. You say she is bright, Nan?"
"Real bright. Not like schooly brightness, but in a queer way, that shows she thinks a lot more than you suppose."
"So much the better. I can try to bring out what is in her, by my own methods."
Then Nan, by coaxing and arguing induced Daniella to try the experiment of going to Uplands for an hour each day, and after her very first trial it seemed that Miss Helen had solved the problem, and that Daniella's education had fairly begun.