Spirit of Jefferson. [volume] (Charles Town, Va. [W. Va.]) 1844-1948, 1892-02-09
LITTLE CHRIS.

LITTLE CHRIS.
The carelessness of driver is not
necessarily accompanied by any want
of heart on the part of those driven.
I The two fat horses did not want to
hurt little boys; neither did Indy
| Dedlake, who was alone in the car
rfage. But whether they wanted it or
not, the harm was done. The boy lay
motionless in the road; the crowd
gathered. They carried him In the
chemists shop. 1t is possible to be
more royalist than the king, and q
chemist is generally more medical in
manner than doctor; but doctor
was Forthcoming young man. He
bent overthe boyand pushed back an
eyelid, touching the white of the eye.
Then he rose and said something to
Lady Dedlake. After a minute or
two, she'got into hanson and drove
away, leaving her carriage and SER
wants for the use of the doctor and
the patient.
"'E won't never walk agen. It's
spinal = that's what 1t is," said a
corpulent middle aged pawnbroker,
with intense satisfaction. His sorrow
for the boy was overcome by his
pleasure at having had an incident OF
importancei in his morning-one about
which he could talk and be dogmatic.
It's the likes OF 'er as causes all this
bloomin' mis'ry," observed a ragged
young man. He had an unshaved
chin. bad cough, and no money, and
wanted to blame somebody for some
thing. The little boy, Christopher
at Il ~
nothing. His father was u drunkard
fession; Chris, as he was generally
called, was one too many IN big
family; il he had been dead he would
have been we'll out of it, but he was
| not dead-only insensible.
The next few months were vague to
Chris. He remembered aafterward a
hospital ward, intervals of complete
darkness, mixed with ice in bags and
hothouse grapes and the sound OF
very gentle footsteps. Then there
was journey. made easy by many
luXrries, with someone watching him
all the time. Then game another period
of darkness, through which he heard
always the sound OF the sea. Then
came glorious morning, when he
opened his eyes aud saw that the sun
was brilliant. He was lying, it
seemed, in a palace; through a glass
door he could see a wide sweep of
garden land; there was step on the
gravel and girls voice singing.
Chris listened; the step and the voice
grew fainter in the distance. He
wished they would come back again
Next morning he heard them again,
and this time the girl came up to the
glass door She opened it and en-
tered the room. She had violin case
in one hand, which she put down on
a table. Then she walked up to the
bed where Chris was lying and kissed
him on the forehead "Goody morn
ing, Chris, she. said. His eyes were
fixed on the scarlet geraniums which
she wore in her gray dress. She took
them out and put them in one OF his
hands. His fingers closed instinc-
lively round two of hers. A queer look
came into her eyes; there was trace
of amusement in it, and something
else besides, She was not very
pretty girl, but the eyes were good.
She bent over him: am Constance,
the daughter Of the doctor who comes
to see you every day. This Is our
house. You are to stop here until
you are quite WE'LL"
Chris smiled intelligently to show
that he understood, and then looked
toward the violin case. She followed
hand from his, she rose, and,
| after tuning her violin, began to play.
She played tunes that she thought he
| would recognize. He watched her all
the time eagerly. When she had fin
| ished he tried to thank her, but she
would not let him speak. She kissed
him again and left him, promising to
! play more to him on the morrow.
When she had gone he lay watching
| the geraniums, which he still cIasped
in his thin fingers. He felt, somehow,
as IL he had done very hard days
work. AT last he dropped otto sleep.
She came on the morrow, and the
next. AS Chris grew slightly stronger
and began to talk a little, he asked
her many questions-some of them
slightly inquisitiye-and got answers
to all OF them, It was not a hospital,
he learned. DIR. Dennison was a
| specialist-looked after cases like
Chris. Chris was. the only, patient. in
the house just now. Yes, that was
the sea which he heard. Who paid?
Lady Dedlake paid for everything.
No, Constance had no sisters, and no
brothers, and her mother had died
when she was baby. How old was
she? Twenty-three. In return for this
information he told her that he liked
her better than either of the nurses
better than anyone, in fact; that she
| played the fiddle proper, and that
he once had dog who had eyes some
thing like that He would like to
hear " When the bloomin' rye" She
played him the tune that he meant
You've made a conquest. my
dear" DR.. Dennison remarked to her
at lunch. He was man of equable
kindliness. He considered that Con-
stance was good daughter; with all
her love of music, she was neverthe-
less quite practical. She managed his
household, and Constance wanted
more than equable, paternal kindli-
ness But she was not very pretty.
"You mean Christ He's nice boy.
Will he get better?"
"No, worse" said DR.. Dennfson.
"He will die probably. A shade too
Innderdone, you know, this beef Is.
You might speak about 1t. Yes, he's
bright little chap.
Chrfstopher's father did not come
! TO see the bog, although Lady Ded-
lake had asked him TO go, and would
have paid his expenses. g leaves
I'M in your 'ands, my lady, he said.
"There is a-welterin' in peaches an
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