Nobody's Girl Part 5

In less than a minute his examination was made.

"A case for the hospital," he said.

Simultaneously, little Perrine and her mother uttered a cry.

"Now, child, leave me alone with your mother," he said in a tone of command.

For a moment Perrine hesitated, but at a sign from her mother she left the wagon and stood just outside.

"I am going to die," said the woman in a low voice.

"Who says that? What you need is nursing, and you can't get that here."

"Could I have my daughter at the hospital?"

"She can see you Thursdays and Sundays."

"What will become of her without me," murmured the mother, "alone in Paris? If I have to die I want to go holding her hand in mine."

"Well, anyway, you can't be left in this cart. The cold nights would be fatal for you. You must take a room. Can you?"

"If it is not for long, perhaps."

"Grain-of-Salt can rent you one, and won't charge much; but the room is not all. You must have medicine and good food and care, all of which you would get at the hospital."

"Doctor, that is impossible," said the sick woman. "I cannot leave my little girl. What would become of her?"

"Well, it's as you like; it's your own affair. I have told you what I think."

"You can come in, little girl, now," he called out. Then taking a leaf from his note pad, he wrote out a prescription.

"Take that to the druggist, near the Church," he said, handing it to Perrine. "No other, mind you. The packet marked _No. 1_ give to your mother. Then give her the potion every hour. Give her the Quinquina wine when she eats, for she must eat anything she wants, especially eggs. I'll drop in again this evening."

She ran out after him.

"Is my mama very ill?" she asked.

"Well ... try and get her to go to the hospital."

"Can't you cure her?"

"I hope so, but I can't give her what she'll get at the hospital. It is foolish for her not to go. She won't go because she has to leave you.

Nothing will happen to you, for you look like a girl who can take care of yourself."

Striding on, he reached his carriage. Perrine wanted him to say more, but he jumped in quickly and was driven off. She returned to the wagon.

"Go quickly to the druggist; then get some eggs. Take all the money; I must get well," said the mother.

"The doctor said he could cure you," said Perrine. "I'll go quickly for the things."

But all the money she took was not enough. When the druggist had read the prescription he looked at Perrine.

"Have you the money to pay for this?" he asked.

She opened her hand.

"This will come to seven francs, fifty," said the man who had already made his calculation.

She counted what she had in her hand and found that she had six francs eighty-five centimes, in counting the Austrian florin as two francs. She needed thirteen sous more.

"I have only six francs eighty-five centimes. Would you take this florin? I have counted that," she said.

"Oh, no; I should say not!" replied the man.

What was to be done? She stood in the middle of the store with her hand open. She was in despair.

"If you'll take the florin there will be only thirteen sous lacking,"

she said at last, "and I'll bring them this afternoon."

But the druggist would not agree to this arrangement. He would neither give her credit for thirteen sous nor accept the florin.

"As there is no hurry for the wine," he said, "you can come and fetch it this afternoon. I'll prepare the other things at once and they'll only cost you three francs fifty."

With the money that remained she bought some eggs, a little Vienna loaf which she thought might tempt her mother's appet.i.te, and then she returned to the Field, running as fast as she could all the way.

"The eggs are fresh," she said. "I held them up to the light. And look at the bread! Isn't it a beautiful loaf, mama? You'll eat it, won't you?"

"Yes, darling."

Both were full of hope. Perrine had absolute faith in the doctor, and was certain that he would perform the miracle. Why should he deceive them? When one asks the doctor to tell the truth, doesn't he do so?

Hope had given the sick woman an appet.i.te. She had eaten nothing for two days; now she ate a half of the roll.

"You see," said Perrine, gleefully.

"Everything will be all right soon," answered her mother with a smile.

Perrine went to the house to inquire of Grain-of-Salt what steps she should take to sell the wagon and dear Palikare.

As for the wagon, nothing was easier. Grain-of-Salt would buy it himself; he bought everything, furniture, clothes, tools, musical instruments ... but a donkey! That was another thing. He did not buy animals, except pups, and his advice was that they should wait for a day and sell it at the Horse Market. That would be on Wednesday.

Wednesday seemed a long way off, for in her excitement, and filled with hope, Perrine had thought that by Wednesday her mother would be strong enough to start for Maraucourt. But to have to wait like this! There was one thing, though: With what she got for the wagon she could buy the two dresses and the railway tickets, and if Grain-of-Salt paid them enough, then they need not sell Palikare. He could stay at the Guillot Field and she could send for him after they arrived at Maraucourt. Dear Palikare!

How contented he would be to have a beautiful stable to live in and go out every day in the green fields.

But alas! Grain-of-Salt would not give one sou over fifteen francs for the wagon.

"Only fifteen francs!" she murmured.

"Yes, and I am only doing that to oblige you. What do you think I can do with it?" he said. He struck the wheels and the shafts with an iron bar; then shrugged his shoulders in disgust.