A Modern Cinderella - Amanda Minnie Douglas (accelerated reader books txt) 📗

hour later she woke, and seemed to study the room and the lady.

"I never was at fairyland but that once," she said slowly. "Then there was such lovely music and dancing and everybody was so gay. It's beautiful here and you are very sweet. I don't know how I came here. Must I go back?"

"Not until you are well. You have been ill. And you were brought here----"

"I can't think. There were the babies. I went to get something and stumbled and everything looked so queer, blue and red and full of stars, and then I went down and down and all was dark and I kept going down----"

"You fainted and were brought over here. The babies were taken home. And you have been ill, but now you are going to get well."

"I've never been real ill. There were the measles once in the home and we had to stay in bed. I was so hungry. Oh, do you know where Bridget is? She was so good to me."

"She is at Mr. Borden's."

"Could I please to have a drink?"

Miss Armitage brought a glass of milk.

"Would you like something to eat--a bit of custard?"

"I'm not hungry. But the milk was good. Thank you. Who brought me back from that great dark pit?"

"The doctor, I guess," with a smile.

"Could I be turned over?"

Miss Armitage turned her so her face was toward the sky. She drew a long breath.

"Do you mind if I should go to sleep?"

"Oh, no, and I'll read to you."

The sweet voice soon lulled her to sleep. And she did not speak again all through the evening, but was rather restless all night. No one had to watch with her now, but Miss Armitage was troubled at the soft, long sighs.


CHAPTER V

THE FAIRY GODMOTHER

Marilla wondered what the bells were ringing for. And then pistols were firing. Oh, yes, it was Fourth of July. She would get up--but her thin legs gave way and her head spun round. All the room was strange, and everybody seemed mixed up. Then a soft voice said--

"I hope you are better this morning."

"I feel--queer--"

The face was flushed, the little hands were hot.

"The doctor was afraid of fever," Miss Armitage said to Jane, "and it has come."

But the doctor was in early. There would be so many calls on him, by and by.

"Yes, it is fever. She seemed better yesterday. And she can't spare any strength to be burned up, so we must do our best. I don't dare treat her as you would a robust child, but I'll give her something every hour, and get in again before night. Oh, no, I think it is hardly critical," in answer to the lady's anxious look.

Marilla did not seem to know any one. She muttered little catches of talk about the babies and Jack, always pleading with him not to do this or that. Once she laughed and waved her hand to and fro as if in response to music and said--"All the Cinderellas! How beautiful!"

A tall, plain-looking Irish woman came in at midafternoon.

"Tell her it's Bridget," she said. "Can't I see her?"

"Oh, yes," replied Miss Armitage, "But I am afraid she will not recognize you."

So she led the way upstairs. Marilla lay on the cot now and was moving her hands as if acting something.

"Ah, the dear!" Bridget knelt down by the side of the bed. "Don't you remember Bridget whose come to care for you so much? Ah dear! It's meself that sorry enough to see ye lyin' this way, thin as a ghost."

She opened her eyes, "Bridget! Oh, you know the night I went to the ball and fairy godmother turned my old frock into the beautifullest frock, all lace and ribbons. And I danced with the Prince and had such a lovely time!"

Then the eyelids fell and she lapsed into unconsciousness.

Miss Armitage glanced inquiringly.

"It was along of a dream that she had once; it _was_ a dream for such things don't happen now-a-days, more's the pity. But she always believes it real and true, the dear, that she was Cinderella, and had been there. She's the best little thing I ever saw, and she never told you a lie or took a bit of cake without asking. In the beginning she must have belonged to some nice folks; and just look at her pretty hands and feet, light and small enough to dance at any king's ball. But it's hard on the nice ones that have to go to Homes and be put out for little drudges. Though they're nice people, the Bordens, as you may guess by my stayin' with 'em goin' on five year."

"And she wasn't over-worked," ventured Miss Armitage. "She is so thin."

"She's been falling away dreadful the last month. Well, she wasn't and she was. There was an old lady living up on the third floor, an aunt or something and she was afraid of bad spells, she did have some, and she'd ring her bell for Marilla an' it would be upstairs an' down, sometimes way down to my kitchen, and lugging those two fat babies up and down the street----"

"Did she have to carry them any?"

"Oh, no. The mistress didn't want her to lift them. She was afraid of a fall and their backs would get broken. So when they were big enough they sat on the floor and she talked to them and told them funny things and acted 'em off and laughed, and they'd laugh too. It was like a play to see 'em. And they'd jabber back and she'd make b'lieve she understood it all. She was a wonderful child's nurse an' there'll be trouble enough without her. But the babies went to bed early an' then she'd come down an' wipe the dishes for me an' they made no call on her. But Jack was a holy terror, he was that bad, but he went to school in the spring. If he was mine I'd skin him alive. But it was hard dragging them fat, heavy things around. Will you tell me just how you come to find her? They've missed her so. They screech enough to raise the dead, an' I know it's for her."

Miss Armitage told the incident over.

"The saints bless and protect you ma'am for not lettin' her be sent to a hospital! But do you think she _can_ get well? And if that other maid suits, couldn't you keep her here all summer and let her get good and strong? I'm going out to my cousin at Fairfield to stay until next Monday. The boss will be down with his folks until then, and all the vallerbles have been sent out of the house so we can leave it alone. And when I come back we may have a plan for the poor dear that isn't baby tendin'. O the little darlin'! Don't let her die, ma'am, she's so nice and sweet!"

She caught the little hand and kissed it, and winked away the tears that glistened in her eyes.

"I'll do my best, you may be sure. And when you come back, I shall be glad to have a call from you. And by that time she may know us all. Thank you for your sympathy."

Bridget nodded and turned away. Miss Armitage studied the little girl with a new interest. She had seen beautiful children among the very poor, in the slums, with no ancestry back of them. There was something about this child--not beauty either, that set one to thinking. She must learn something about her.

And then she smiled over the fancy of being Cinderella and dancing with the Prince at the ball. What a happy dream it must have been for the child! She was glad to hear that she had not been badly treated or ill fed. She could trust the kindly Bridget for that.

When the doctor came in Sunday morning a smile lighted up his face.

"A real improvement," he exclaimed. "No fever and a normal temperature. Pulse stronger. Now, with nourishing diet and some salt in the baths we shall have her about again, though I've had several patients lie weeks in this state in the hot weather."

Marilla glanced up and smiled back.

"Why, I feel all well," she began. "Couldn't I get up."

"Yes," said Miss Armitage. "Jane will you bring that small pink kimona and put it on."

She took the doctor over in the bay window.

"The Borden's cook came in to see the child. She seemed very fond of her and said she was the sweetest little thing. And that she was wonderful with the babies. I was glad she had not been 'put upon' as they say over to the house. And that she always had enough to eat. And she wasn't allowed to lift the babies----"

"But dragged them about in the carriage. Such children are not strong enough for nursemaids. She was pretty well used up, and she'll be sometime getting over it."

"I've taken a curious fancy to the child. Jane thinks she must have belonged to what we call 'nice people.' She flattered me by asking, the first coherent words she uttered if I was not 'a fairy godmother?' Think of that!" smiling.

"Well, _I_ think you have been that many a time. I wonder you haven't filled the house with children."

"I'm always full of pity for them. But when they are cured and put in some place where they can do their best, and have a little love and care, I go on to the next. I do not believe I am a real missionary, and I have a theory--it may not be a very noble one," and a soft color suffused her fine face, "that people who bring children into the world ought to be made to feel the responsibility of them and not shift them on society at large, trusting Providence to take care of them."

"That is what ought to be taught--the responsibility of children. Women as well as men sin in this respect. The woman who forgives the drunken husband and takes him back until tired of working he goes off again leaving another child to add to the poorly-fed throng she can hardly take care of. I think the man who goes off the second time, or who does not take care of the children he has, should be put in some institution and made to earn their support. And the girls ought to be educated up to better ideas of marriage. It doesn't near always conduce to morality. I preach sermons to you--don't I?" and he gave a short laugh. "And we can never set the world straight. But these Homes and Republics are doing a good work in training children to self reliance."

Jane wrapped the little girl in the kimona and lifted her up in the reclining chair.

"Oh, that's so nice. How good you are! And everything is so lovely. Oh, I'll soon be well."

Then the little face clouded over. Oh, she truly would not mind being ill if she could stay in this beautiful house where everything was so quiet. Jane went in and out, and presently she brought a cup of broth. How good it tasted!

"Would you mind if I went back to bed? I'm so sleepy."

"Oh, no," returned Jane,