steering the despised sister on a machine, which to David's eyes was a very strange sight indeed.
“You turn right around and go for the doctor,” called Joseph peremptorily, as soon as he was within hailing distance. “She's had a fall and hurt her ankle. No; I'll carry her up,” as David jumped from the wagon in dismay and ran to help. “I've brought her this far and I guess I can do the rest. You go quick.”
The command was given so decidedly that David turned meekly and obeyed. He hurried the horse as much as possible, hut he turned his head once for the astonishing sight of Joseph with Ruth gathered tenderly in his arms striding across the dooryard. Ruth waved her hand to him and tried to smile as she called, “It's all right, he just didn't understand”; but the pain was so bad she had to close her eyes and keep still.
A mother could not have been more tender than those two brothers were during the days that followed. The doctor came and fixed up the poor swollen ankle, encouraging them by saying it might not be so bad as it looked. Then they hovered near her and could not do enough for her, and even neglected their work to stay with her. It would seem as if they were just awakened to the fact that there was something else than work in the world worth living for; for love, the love of a brother for a sister, was growing in their hearts that had been empty so long.
Early that evening Joseph went to the village on an errand. The doctor had called again and recommended some lotion for bathing the hurt ankle, and Joseph offered to go for it. Ever since morning he had seemed to take David's place in ordering about things and in doing all he could to make his sister comfortable. He had a feeling as if he had been the cause of her suffering and he must take the responsibility of caring for her. David was quite astonished at him, and sat down now beside Ruth's couch to talk things over with her. The large, easy, leather-covered library sofa had been hastily unpacked by David and pushed into the kitchen for the benefit of the invalid, because she utterly refused to be sent off upstairs away from everything. She was quite happy in spite of her hurt. She was rather glad than not that she had fallen, now that there was such a change in Joseph. It was worth a ride and a fall any day to gain a brother like her younger one, for when Joseph's heart was once touched there was a great well of good there, and he bestowed freely where he chose to do so.
While they talked and arranged some little matters, going on with their plans where they had been left the day before, Joseph went with long, free steps to the village. It was a very different walk from the one he had taken the night before. Indeed it never occurred to him to mark the contrast between himself to-night and twenty-four hours before. His mind was busy over his sister, who, as far as he was concerned, might have just come into his range of vision. Heretofore she had been an imaginary being whom he hated, because he fancied she was in his way and perhaps disliked him. There in the dark on this lonely country road he remembered her words, looks, tones, and her tears. These were things he would not have dared even think about in the daylight or in the presence of others, for he was very much afraid of any sentiment. Indeed the least tendency in that direction was something so new to him that he scarcely believed in it at all. He decided that he had been a fool the night before and metaphorically kicked himself all the way to town for his bearishness and boorishness about that room. It suddenly occurred to him that though he had been about the house nearly all day, he had not yet revisited his room, nor seen it enough to tell what it was like. He tried to recall what he had seen at his first glimpse, but the veil of anger was between and
“You turn right around and go for the doctor,” called Joseph peremptorily, as soon as he was within hailing distance. “She's had a fall and hurt her ankle. No; I'll carry her up,” as David jumped from the wagon in dismay and ran to help. “I've brought her this far and I guess I can do the rest. You go quick.”
The command was given so decidedly that David turned meekly and obeyed. He hurried the horse as much as possible, hut he turned his head once for the astonishing sight of Joseph with Ruth gathered tenderly in his arms striding across the dooryard. Ruth waved her hand to him and tried to smile as she called, “It's all right, he just didn't understand”; but the pain was so bad she had to close her eyes and keep still.
A mother could not have been more tender than those two brothers were during the days that followed. The doctor came and fixed up the poor swollen ankle, encouraging them by saying it might not be so bad as it looked. Then they hovered near her and could not do enough for her, and even neglected their work to stay with her. It would seem as if they were just awakened to the fact that there was something else than work in the world worth living for; for love, the love of a brother for a sister, was growing in their hearts that had been empty so long.
Early that evening Joseph went to the village on an errand. The doctor had called again and recommended some lotion for bathing the hurt ankle, and Joseph offered to go for it. Ever since morning he had seemed to take David's place in ordering about things and in doing all he could to make his sister comfortable. He had a feeling as if he had been the cause of her suffering and he must take the responsibility of caring for her. David was quite astonished at him, and sat down now beside Ruth's couch to talk things over with her. The large, easy, leather-covered library sofa had been hastily unpacked by David and pushed into the kitchen for the benefit of the invalid, because she utterly refused to be sent off upstairs away from everything. She was quite happy in spite of her hurt. She was rather glad than not that she had fallen, now that there was such a change in Joseph. It was worth a ride and a fall any day to gain a brother like her younger one, for when Joseph's heart was once touched there was a great well of good there, and he bestowed freely where he chose to do so.
While they talked and arranged some little matters, going on with their plans where they had been left the day before, Joseph went with long, free steps to the village. It was a very different walk from the one he had taken the night before. Indeed it never occurred to him to mark the contrast between himself to-night and twenty-four hours before. His mind was busy over his sister, who, as far as he was concerned, might have just come into his range of vision. Heretofore she had been an imaginary being whom he hated, because he fancied she was in his way and perhaps disliked him. There in the dark on this lonely country road he remembered her words, looks, tones, and her tears. These were things he would not have dared even think about in the daylight or in the presence of others, for he was very much afraid of any sentiment. Indeed the least tendency in that direction was something so new to him that he scarcely believed in it at all. He decided that he had been a fool the night before and metaphorically kicked himself all the way to town for his bearishness and boorishness about that room. It suddenly occurred to him that though he had been about the house nearly all day, he had not yet revisited his room, nor seen it enough to tell what it was like. He tried to recall what he had seen at his first glimpse, but the veil of anger was between and
Similar Books
