Read Ebook: Mary's Rainbow by Feehan Mary Edward

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Ebook has 602 lines and 33467 words, and 13 pages

But the little girl was puzzled about a gift for Gene herself. The Doctor would not allow her to use her eyes at night, because they had been weakened by her long illness; and she could think of no excuse for locking herself in her room while she made the present she had in mind. At last one evening at dinner, her uncle solved the question for her by asking: "Gene, will you kindly look over Mary's wardrobe and see what she will need in the way of new frocks, shoes, and so on? I fear that I shall have to ask you to do some shopping for her before she will be ready for the trip South. I have never tried to buy so much as a pair of shoes for a young lady."

"Indeed, Doctor, I shall be only too glad to select anything she needs." For Gene, like all girls, loved to shop, especially when every penny did not have to be counted twice before it was spent.

Mary clapped her hands and laughed so gleefully that the Doctor looked at her in surprise. "Hm! There is mischief in your eye, young lady. We may look out for something, Gene, on the day you go shopping."

A little later when alone with Mary, he drew a letter from his pocket. "I had a few lines from Aunt Mary to-day, and this little note for you came in the same envelope. Shall I read it to you?"

"Please, Uncle. Writing is so hard for me to read. Big people write such a funny way. They make points instead of curves at the top and bottom of m's, n's, and u's, so that I can hardly tell which is which."

"Yes, we grown-ups should be more careful when writing to little folks. Now, let us see what Aunt Mary has to say: 'My dear Mary, Mother Johanna is so very busy these days that she has asked me to write this little note for her and invite you to spend Christmas with us at Maryvale. Your little friends are all around me telling me what to say to you. They wish you to come out Friday morning, for they have many, many things to do to aid Santa Claus, and they know what a great help you will be to them. Eight of them will spend the holidays here, so you will have plenty of company. Do not disappoint us. Your loving Aunt Mary.' Well, what do you think of that?"

"It is just lovely for Mother Johanna to invite me, Uncle; but, of course, I won't go."

"And why not, pray tell me?"

"Go to Maryvale and leave you alone for Christmas!"

"But I do not intend to be left alone. I, too, am invited. Aunt Mary tells me that Father Hartley, the chaplain, will be happy to have me spend a few nights at his cottage, and I am looking forward to a very good time indeed."

"You do not understand, dear. I shall be with you during the day--at meals and all--and in the evening until bedtime. Indeed, you will see far more of me than if we remain at home."

"Why, pet, it is right on the convent grounds, not more than two hundred yards away."

"But you can't come when I am asleep and kiss me good-night."

"Whatever put such an idea into your head? So you think I go prowling about the house at night at the risk of waking you and having you think I am a burglar?"

"If you don't come, Uncle, I must dream that you do; but it seems very strange that I should have the same dream every night at the same time."

"If you are asleep, how do you know the time?"

"Just after I have gone! So you take it for granted that I do go into your room every night, eh? then why not prove it? At Maryvale, I can not possibly go to you at ten o'clock at night." The Doctor was more than anxious that the little girl should accept the invitation, for he well knew how very lonely this Christmas would be for her at home. "I was so sure that you would like to go, that I have made plans for a jolly time. One of them is that we shall send that big, old-fashioned sleigh, which has stood in the barn for years, out to Maryvale, and I shall take you and your little friends for a sleigh ride every day. Perhaps Aunt Mary and some of the Sisters could go with you. And then we could help Santa Claus in regard to the tree and some gifts for those little girls who do not go home for Christmas. If we do go, Gene will be able to spend Christmas at her own home. Don't you think you had better sleep over it, Goldilocks, before sending your regrets to Mother Johanna? You might change your mind when it is too late."

But the thought of making the holidays happier for the little girls who could not go home and, more than all, for Gene, was quite enough to win Mary over to her uncle's view of the matter.

"I have already changed my mind, Uncle. We won't send our regrets."

MARY'S SECRET.

The following day, just after luncheon, Gene handed the Doctor a list of the things she thought Mary would need, and told him that she had decided to go down town that afternoon. "Mary will not have so much time to get into mischief after her nap as she would have if I were to go in the morning," she explained, her eyes twinkling.

"A very good idea indeed, Gene; but if you had given me a little hint, I could have put a sleeping powder into her glass of milk, and that would have kept her in bed until dinner time. Well, I think we can trust her not to eat matches or burn the house down. I shall tell Liza to keep an eye on her."

"But Liza is going to help me."

"Oho! a plot, is it? Well, do your worst, for you may never have the house to yourselves again," laughed the Doctor, putting on his overcoat.

"Gene, please excuse me, but I must whisper something to Uncle." And Mary drew him into the library. "The reason I am so glad, Uncle, is because I want to make Gene's Christmas present while she is out; and don't you think I could do without a nap for just this once? I can take two to-morrow, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, to make up, you know."

"And will you help me tie it up to-night, Uncle? I make such funny bows."

"I shall do my best, but I am no hand at tying ribbons. Shoe strings are more in my line, you know."

"That's so, Uncle. I don't see how we would have managed to tie up the things for the box without Gene. But I can't ask her to tie the ribbon on her own present. Oh, maybe Liza can help me."

Leaving Mary in the library, the Doctor returned to the hall, where Gene was waiting at the foot of the stairs for the little girl.

"You may see something to-day, Gene, that will take your fancy as a Christmas gift for the home folks; so I am going to pay my debts a little ahead of time."

"Really, Doctor, I do not feel that you owe me anything. I have been treated as a guest--no, as a member of the family; and you have no idea what it has meant to me."

"And you have no idea how much all that you have done for my little niece has meant to me. If any one had told me that she could be so happy and contented without her parents and little sisters, I would not have believed it. Of course, I know that she has her lonely hours. Such things are to be expected."

"Yes, Doctor, there have been times when I was tempted to telephone for you. It seemed to me that she needed someone of her very own to comfort her. But even at her worst, she has always been so sweet and gentle--so different from the children that I have usually dealt with."

"She is a winsome little lassie, and for that very reason I appreciate anything that is done to make her happy. Sister Julia gave me no idea of your powers in that line, so I do not feel bound by the bargain I made with you and have taken it upon myself to do what I think common justice requires. Even then, I shall be in your debt; for there are things which mere money can never repay."

He placed an envelope in her hand and was gone before she could do more than thank him. On the sidewalk he turned to wave at Mary, who always stood at the window until he had passed out of sight; but a cry from Gene had called the little girl into the hall, and the Doctor chuckled as he pictured the two examining the contents of the envelope.

"Oh, it is a mistake--a mistake! Look at this, Mary!" And Gene sank on the lowest step of the stairs and burst into tears.

"Is that very much money, Gene? I don't know much about money."

"It is ever so much more than I have ever handled at one time. Oh, you little darling! You have no idea what this means to me. My father is an invalid. He injured his back two years ago and has not been able to walk since. But wait until he gets the comfortable wheel chair that this money will buy for him. I shall not buy it to-day, though, for I should like to ask your uncle about the best place to get such a thing. So you see, dearie, why I am so, so happy over my two hundred dollars. But come! The minutes are flying, and I must dress to go out."

When Mary had seen the carriage drive down the street with Gene safe inside it, she flew out to the kitchen to ask Susie to make her some paste.

"Gwine to papah yo' doll house agin, honey?"

"No, Susie, I have to make Gene's Christmas present while she is down town, and I have used every speck of paste in the bottle she bought for me. I really think the kind you make sticks better."

"Co'se it do, Miss May-ree. Homemade t'ings am alwuz de bestest dey is. Yo' run 'long an' git de res' ob yo' fixin's ready, an' Liza'll fotch dis up to yo' when it gits cool. 'Tain't no good hot, nohow."

"And will you come up to see the gift when it is finished, Susie? I would like your 'pinion about it. You see, this is the only one I have tried to make all by myself."

"I sho'ly will, honey; but I reckon ma 'pinion ain't wuf much, nohow."

"Indeed it is, Susie. I shall call you the very minute the gift is finished."

Mary knew exactly what she intended to make for Gene, so lost no time in planning it. She began at once to cut a circular piece of cardboard, but found it hard work for her little hands. In the center of it, she pasted a photograph of herself, which she knew Gene liked very much; and then she cut strips of crepe paper, pink and dark green, and carefully pulled out the edges to make ruffles. Beginning at the edge of the cardboard, she pasted the green paper, circle within circle, singing all the while; and her sweet little voice reached the ears of Liza and Susie, who stole up the back stairs and peeped in at her as she cut and clipped and snipped and pasted and patted.

"Now, I am ready for the pink paper. There's the clock striking--one--two--three. I wonder when Gene will be home. Liza! Li--za--a--a! Li--i--i--za!"

The two women in the hall fled on tiptoe; and after a few moments, Liza entered from the next room. "Wuz yo' callin', honey?"

"Yes, Liza. What time do you think Gene will be home?"

"Don't know'm, Miss May-ree. 'Bout five, I reckon."

"That's exactly what I think. Then I have only two hours. But I shall have this finished unless she comes earlier. It won't take so long to paste the pink ruffles on, because the nearer I come to the center, the smaller the circles are. How do you think it's going to look, Liza?"

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