CHAPTER II

NURSE SARAH’S STORY

And this is Nurse Sarah’s story.

As I said, I’m going to tell it straight through as near as I can in her own words.  And I can remember most of it, I think, for I paid very close attention.

* * * * *

“Well, yes, Miss Mary Marie, things did begin to change right there an’ then, an’ so you could notice it. We saw it, though maybe your pa an’ ma didn’t, at the first.

“You see, the first month after she came, it was vacation time, an’ he could give her all the time she wanted.  An’ she wanted it all.  An’ she took it.  An’ he was just as glad to give it as she was to take it.  An’ so from mornin’ till night they was together, traipsin’ all over the house an’ garden, an’ trampin’ off through the woods an’ up on the mountain every other day with their lunch.

“You see she was city-bred, an’ not used to woods an’ flowers growin’ wild; an’ she went crazy over them.  He showed her the stars, too, through his telescope; but she hadn’t a mite of use for them, an’ let him see it good an’ plain.  She told him—­I heard her with my own ears—­that his eyes, when they laughed, was all the stars she wanted; an’ that she’d had stars all her life for breakfast an’ luncheon an’ dinner, anyway, an’ all the time between; an’ she’d rather have somethin’ else, now—­somethin’ alive, that she could love an’ live with an’ touch an’ play with, like she could the flowers an’ rocks an’ grass an’ trees.

“Angry?  Your pa?  Not much he was!  He just laughed an’ caught her ‘round the waist an’ kissed her, an’ said she herself was the brightest star of all.  Then they ran off hand in hand, like two kids.  An’ they was two kids, too.  All through those first few weeks your pa was just a great big baby with a new plaything.  Then when college began he turned all at once into a full-grown man.  An’ just naturally your ma didn’t know what to make of it.

“He couldn’t explore the attic an’ rig up in the old clothes there any more, nor romp through the garden, nor go lunchin’ in the woods, nor none of the things she wanted him to do.  He didn’t have time.  An’ what made things worse, one of them comet-tails was comin’ up in the sky, an’ your pa didn’t take no rest for watchin’ for it, an’ then studyin’ of it when it got here.

“An’ your ma—­poor little thing!  I couldn’t think of anything but a doll that was thrown in the corner because somebody’d got tired of her.  She was lonesome, an’ no mistake.  Anybody’d be sorry for her, to see her mopin’ ‘round the house, nothin’ to do.  Oh, she read, an’ sewed with them bright-colored silks an’ worsteds; but ’course there wasn’t no real work for her to do.  There was good help in the kitchen, an’ I took what care of your grandma was needed; an’ she always gave her orders through me, so I practically run the house, an’ there wasn’t anything there for her to do.