A Little Mother to the Others by L. T. Meade (good books to read for 12 year olds .txt) 📗
- Author: L. T. Meade
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"Aunt Jane, I love you for those words," said Iris.
Aunt Jane's face quite flushed when Iris said she loved her. She went across the room and rang the bell.
"Desire the pony carriage to be sent round directly," was her order to the servant when he appeared.
Accordingly, in less than half an hour, Iris and Aunt Jane were driving into Madersley. They went straight to the humble house where the Darlings lived. The greater part of the house was given up to little Diana and her nurse.
"Please, Aunt Jane," said Iris, as they approached the door; "may I go into Diana's room by myself? I don't want anyone to be with me when I see her."
"You may have it your way, Iris," said Aunt Jane. "I interfered once, and I believe I did wrong; now you shall have it your own way."
"Thank you, Aunt Jane," answered Iris. She scarcely looked at her aunt; all her thoughts were centered on the mission which she had taken in hand.[273] When the carriage drew up at the humble door, the child ran straight into the house.
"Who may you be, little miss?" said Bessie Darling, who had never seen her before.
"I am the sister of Diana; I am a mother to the others," said Iris.
"Sakes alive!" exclaimed the woman. "You a mother? Why, you poor little mite, you look as if you wanted a deal of mothering yourself."
"Please tell me what room my sister is in," said Iris, removing her hat as she spoke.
Bessie Darling stared at her for a moment, then she pointed to a door. Iris turned the handle and entered the room.
It was a hot day, and the window was wide open; a green blind was down to keep out the glare of the sun; there was a quantity of ice in a great pail in one corner of the room, and, as Iris softly entered, Fortune was in the act of putting a fresh cold cloth on the sick child's forehead.
Little Diana was murmuring her ceaseless refrain:
Any more, little dear.
Good-by."
"Why, Diana!" said Iris.
Iris's voice was quite fresh. It had a different note in it from all the voices which for weeks had sounded in little Diana's ears. She was lying in a partial stupor, but now she opened her eyes very wide.
"Iris," she said; "Iris." And a smile broke all over her face.
Iris ran up to the bedside. She was always quiet in her manner; great excitement only accentuated her[274] quiet. She knelt down at once by the sick child, and took both her hot hands in hers.
"Darling," she said, "I am your little mother, and I have come back to you."
"That's beautiful," answered Diana. She uttered a very deep sigh. She had been tossing restlessly about, but now her hot hands lay quiet in Iris'.
As to Fortune, she was so amazed that she did not utter a word.
"Go to sleep, Di," said Iris, in a voice of authority; "I am your little mother, and I wish you to go to sleep."
"It's awfu' nice to be mothered again," said Diana. She opened her eyes languidly, fixed them on Iris, smiled once more, and then the thick lashes fell over the pale cheeks. In about five minutes she was sound asleep.
Little Diana had often slept during the past fortnight, but during all that time she had had no sleep like this—so quiet, so restful. Iris, kneeling by her side, never moved.
"Let me give you a chair or you'll faint, my love," said Fortune, in a low whisper.
Iris shook her head.
Soon afterwards Fortune softly left the room, and then there fell a deep and solemn silence over the little house.
Aunt Jane, Bessie Darling, and Fortune all sat in the outer room. The heat grew greater; they opened both door and window, and a gentle breeze now blew through the sick-room. The child slept on. The little mother kneeling by her side remained as still as if she was carved in marble.
About four in the afternoon the doctor came in.[275]
"Who is this?" he whispered, looking at Iris.
"It's the eldest little sister, sir," said Fortune; "she came down here this morning quite unbidden, and she told the little one that she was her mother, and the little one smiled and went off sound asleep directly."
The doctor, too, retreated into the outer room.
"It is my belief that the little girl has saved the child's life," he said. "Whatever you do, don't make a sound; my little patient has not slept like this since the beginning of her illness. This sleep will probably be the turning-point. I shall not be far off; send for me whenever she awakens."
The day wore on, the evening approached; and Iris still knelt by Diana's side, and Diana still slept. The sick child had no dreams in that healthful, beautiful, life-restoring slumber. Slowly, hour by hour, the fret and the worry left the little face, the burning fever departed, the little brow grew cool and calm; smiles—baby smiles—came once more round the lips; the old child-look—the old Diana-look—returned.
Iris knelt on. Her knees ached, her arms ached, her head ached; she grew stiff; she grew first hot and then cold; but never once did she move or swerve from her original position. The great joy of her spirit supported her through the terrible ordeal. At long, long last she was really a little mother; she was saving Diana's life.
Now and then Fortune approached to hold a cup of milk or other restorative to Iris' pale lips. She feared that the child might faint before Diana awoke. But great love enabled Iris to go through this time of suffering. She neither fainted nor failed.
The beautiful healing sleep lasted for nearly eight hours; then, when faint, cool shadows had stolen[276] across the sick room, little Diana opened her eyes. She saw Iris still kneeling in the same position and looking at her with a world of love in her face. Diana smiled back in answer to the love.
"I's k'ite well, Iris," she said. "I's had a beaut'ful s'eep, and there's not going to be a pwivate nor yet a public funeral."
"No, no, Di!" said Iris, sobbing now as she spoke.
"I's hung'y," said little Diana. "I'd like my supper awfu' much."
The crisis was over, and Diana was to live. From that hour she recovered, slowly but surely. Iris was allowed to be with her a good deal, and the mere fact of Iris being in the room always seemed to chase the irritation and the weakness of that long recovery away. At the end of a fortnight the sick child was well enough to return to Delaney Manor. Then, from being half well she became quite well, and when the autumn really came, and the cool breezes blew in from the sea, father returned to his home once more, and he and Aunt Jane had a long talk, and it was finally arranged that the four children were to remain in the old home, and were to play in the old garden, and that father was to stay at home himself and look after them as best he could.
"They are not ordinary children, and I frankly confess I cannot manage them," said Aunt Jane. "As to Iris, she is without exception the most peculiar child I ever came across; I know, of course, she is a good child—I would not say a word to disparage her, for I admire her strength—but when a child considers that she has got a mission——"
"I know all about that," said David Delaney.[277]
"Iris thinks that she is to be a little mother to the others—those were Evangeline's last words to her. Well, Jane, it is a heavy burden for such a little creature to carry, but the fact of her obeying her mother's last injunction really saved little Diana's life."
THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's A Little Mother to the Others, by L. T. Meade
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