Mavis of Green Hill Part 19

He and Mr. Denton laid me on my bed, and I could only look at him with scorn, from that ignominious position. Oh, when I can stand on my two feet, won't I--well, won't I _just_!!!!

GREEN HILL November 1

Diary, this day I have stood upright, and taken my first faltering step forward. Dr. Mac was there, and Dr. Denton, one on each side. And a step away, with his arms wide, my Father. Sarah, her hand on Dr.

Mac's arm, took the step with me. She was quite white.

I was terribly weak, and all bendy in the middle. But I walked, Diary, I _walked_.

I am in bed now, after having been fussed over and made much of. I am sure Father is out sending wires! And Sarah pops in every two minutes to see if I am still alive. I am very much alive, and my whole soul is on its knees in grat.i.tude. Now, almost for the first time, I believe that I am to be a cog in the Great Machinery again; and no longer a little broken thing, thrown out forever on the sc.r.a.p heap.

I want to tell Richard Warren. But no word has come from him since my last letter. So I must wait.

GREEN HILL December 8

It seems a year since I last opened you, little Blue Friend. For so much has happened. I walk, as if I had always walked, and it no longer seems wonderful or blessed. For my Father is very ill. He is up and dressed and around, but I know and he knows that it may not be for very long. He has been to town, to see other doctors. And when he came back, he set his house in order.

After he had told me his exact condition, "Mavis," he said, "you are the bravest person, except your Mother, I have ever known. It may be that I shall live for years; it may be that it is only a matter of weeks or months. I don't know. The doctors hold out very little hope of my recovery. You are better fitted to help me now than ever you were. And," he said smiling, "it seems as if I had nothing more to live for, now that you are well again, and growing stronger every day."

I was on his lap, in the big still living room.

"Father, father," I said, and held his dear head close against my breast. They can't take him from me! They can't!

"Hus.h.!.+" he said. "We have had many years of the most beautiful, close companions.h.i.+p together, my daughter. You have given me more than you know. And for a long time I have known...."

He stopped.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, fighting back the tears.

"I talked it over," he said, "with Dr. Denton, and we decided that it was not wise--as your condition stood then."

Always Dr. Denton! Ordering my life....

"If only," said Father, very low, "if only I could leave you guarded, protected. You know so little of life.... I am," he whispered to himself, "responsible to her mother...."

We were quiet a long time.

Presently he put me from him.

"There, there," he said, "I hear Peter calling you outside. Run along, dearest. And let me see you smile before you go. It may be that we will have a long time yet together. Kiss me, Mavis, and smile."

Diary, I am so terribly frightened. So alone.

GREEN HILL December 21

We are getting ready for Christmas. The Green Hill people have sent me, with their love, a beautiful, courageous tree. And everyone has offered to come and trim it. But we must be very quiet on this, my first real Christmas for many years. For Father is failing steadily.

He does not complain, but he spends a great deal of the day in bed; and he is so white, so worn, that my heart stands still to look at him. If only I could have stayed all my life in my little rose-grey room, helpless and cared for, if by some strange twist of Fate my Father could have been spared this wasting illness.

I hate my feet; so eager to run; I hate my new sense of well-being and vitality. I hate the faint pink in my cheeks, and all my untired strength.

It is snowing today. White and soft and thick snow lies over my garden. Like a.... No, I can't write it....

GREEN HILL December 28

Christmas is over and done with. I had so many lovely gifts, more than ever this year, it seems. I have put them away--the books from Mr.

Denton, the little gold watch from Father, even Peter's funny little hand-painted card. And all the others. I can't seem to be grateful for anything. Wonderful roses reached me from the city, Christmas morning.

There is no card. But I know who sent them. Why doesn't he write? He would help, a little, I think. But I can't write to him. Not now.

GREEN HILL January 1

The new year.

I ran over to see Mrs. Goodrich this morning. She is terribly distressed because Mr. Goodrich's firm is sending him abroad, and he wants her to go with him. They will be travelling too much to take Peter and have decided against it. Of course I asked for him. And she will let me know. Father, when I told him, shook his head. He said nothing, but I knew what he was thinking.

GREEN HILL January 2

Father asked me today if I liked Dr. Denton. He asked me so wistfully and so strangely that I couldn't tell him the truth. They are great friends, I know. So I lied.

"Why, yes," I said, "I like him very much."

I felt myself grow red. Father patted my hand.

"He's a good man," he said. "I want you to trust him, Mavis. I have made John Denton your guardian--you know so little about money and the dull things of life," he added, half sighing, half smiling. "You are, after all, only a child."

I tried to change the subject, as I always do, when directly or indirectly Father speaks of leaving me. He seemed happier, when I left him, than I have seen him in many days. I am glad, Diary, that I lied to him about the Enemy.

GREEN HILL January 10

This morning Father was worse. I rushed to the 'phone and tried to get Dr. Mac, but he was out, making his calls. So Dr. Denton came. He sent me from the room, and was with Father a long, long time. When he came out, he called me.

"Your father wishes to see you, Miss Carroll," he said.

"Dr. Denton--" I couldn't say any more. Suddenly he took my two ice-cold hands in his firm, warm grasp.

"Remember," he said, almost sternly, "that I am at your service, always, and at his."

He dropped my hands and turned away.

"I shall be back," he told me, "in the afternoon."

Shaking all over, I laid my hand on the doork.n.o.b and prayed, over and over, just "Please, G.o.d, help him," and went in.