Betty's Battles Part 7

For a minute Betty's head seems to whirl round, and she cannot think.

But with a great effort she steadies herself.

"Bob, Bob!" she calls.

Bob has come up, and is standing staring into the darkness beside her, Lucy's frightened face just behind him.

"Bob, run in next door, and ask Mr. Baker to come as quickly as ever he can; we must have help. Father can't move. Lucy, go and tell mother."

Bob darts off, and Betty goes down to the cab door.

Father is lying back in the cab all huddled together; one leg held stiffly before him.

"Is that my Betty?" he says feebly. "Don't be frightened, dear la.s.s, I shall be right enough presently." But the dreadful look of pain on his face turns her quite sick.

Mr. Baker comes, and father is got into the house; how, Betty never knows. Her heart aches to hear the deep groan that breaks from him when they lift him to the sofa.

It is father who remembers the cabman, and bids Betty take the purse from his pocket, and pay the man. As she gently feels for it, her hand encounters an odd stocking from the unmended pile on which father is lying, and the thought darts through her mind, "Oh, to think I felt things like _that_ to be a trouble this morning!"

Bob is off again to fetch the doctor. Mother is in the room now, weeping, and wringing her hands helplessly. Lucy stands trembling with terror, and perfectly useless. Only Betty seems to know what to do.

Betty really loves her father, and her quick brain and skilful fingers are active in his service. Her love has made her forget herself entirely--for a time.

It is her hands that arrange a pillow under the injured knee supporting it in such a manner that the pain is greatly lessened. It is she who opens the window to give him air, and brings a cup of hot milk to relieve his exhaustion. There is no thinking of herself just now, all her own little troubles are quite forgotten. Is there nothing she can do to make her father's pain easier? That one thought fills her heart.

The doctor! Betty draws back, breathless with anxiety. Will father groan again when the doctor touches him?

"Oh, dear Lord, do make the pain better!" she murmurs, with pale lips.

It is the first time she has really prayed from her heart of hearts for anyone save herself.

"I was hurrying along, and slipped upon a banana skin, falling with a crash to the pavement, and striking my knee smartly against the edge of the curb-stone," she hears father explain to the doctor.

"Ah, 'more haste less speed' this time, with a vengeance, Mr. Langdale.

It's a pity you weren't more careful."

"It's my girl's birthday, and I had only just remembered it," murmurs father faintly. Oh, how poor Betty's conscience p.r.i.c.ks her as she hears the words!

"Hem! bad job; bad job. A pair of sharp scissors, my dear," and the doctor turns to Betty, who flies to get them.

The doctor cuts away the clothing from the injured knee, and after a very brief examination declares that his patient must be taken to the hospital.

"I will send an ambulance for you immediately, Mr. Langdale. There is no help for it, I am afraid," he says, and takes his leave.

There is another dreadful interval of waiting. Mother continues to sob and rock herself to and fro. Bob takes up his stand by the window, on the look-out for the ambulance. He is truly sorry for father, yet, boy-like, feels all the painful importance of the position.

But Betty holds her father's hand, with eyes brimful of pitying love.

"Father, father," she whispers, "if I could only help you; if I could only bear some of the pain for you."

A faint smile flickers into his face, and the set features relax a little.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A pillow under the injured knee.]

"I fear you will have to bear your share, my la.s.s. The pain in my knee is nothing to having to leave you all to s.h.i.+ft for yourselves. You must see Mr. Duncan, the landlord of the houses I collect rents for, the first thing to-morrow, and take him the rent-books. You'll find them all in my bag, and the money I've collected this week, too. I haven't got it all yet. Perhaps he'll do something for your mother while I'm laid by; I don't know. Oh, Betty, my girl, I must leave so much in your hands. Do all you can for your mother. Try your best to keep the home together."

"Father, I'll try so hard. I'll do everything I can. I'll----"

"Here's the ambulance, and there's a nurse and two men getting out,"

announces Bob from the window.

Mrs. Langdale's sobs rise into screams, but Betty scarcely hears her; just now she has eyes and ears for her father alone.

Skilful hands carry him to the ambulance, and this time no groan reaches Betty's straining ears, as she follows the party.

"Go to your mother! She needs you, and I am in good hands. G.o.d bless you, dear child! G.o.d be with you and help you!"

CHAPTER VI

FOR FATHER'S SAKE

Betty stands gazing at the ambulance, as it pa.s.ses steadily out of sight, and a feeling of deep loneliness sweeps over her heart. No one loves her, no one understands her as father does, and now he has gone from her.

"Ah! there I am, thinking about myself again--I _won't_ do it!"

She rouses herself with a brave effort, and goes back into the house.

A house full of noise and confusion just now. Mother sobbing loudly in the little sitting-room. Jennie and Pollie, awakened from sleep, shrieking themselves hoa.r.s.e in their bedroom above. Clara helpless; Bob dazed-looking; Lucy tearful. Only Betty still manages to keep her wits about her.

"Lucy, run upstairs and quiet the children--mother, mother, you mustn't upset yourself so--father will soon be better, I'm sure--such a nice, sweet nurse came to look after him. Come, mother, you're quite tired out; lie down on the sofa, and I'll make you a cup of tea."

"Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" moans Mrs. Langdale.

"Father will soon be in less pain, and----"

"But what shall _I_ do? Most likely he'll never be able to walk again.

Mr. Duncan will get some one else to collect his rents and look after the houses, and we shall all starve."

"Mother, you really must not worry about all that to-night. Father told me to go and see Mr. Duncan to-morrow, and perhaps he'll do something for us."

"Mr. Duncan do anything? Why, he's as hard as flint, always grumbling at your father for not getting the last penny out of the tenants; _he_ do anything? Oh, no, no!"

"Well, we don't know how it will be yet. Come, mother, I'm going to make you that cup of tea, and you must lie down while I get it."

Betty makes the tea, and coaxes her mother into taking it, and presently persuades her to go to bed.

It is very late by this time, the house is quiet, and Betty goes to bed herself.