Christmas Stories of Louisa May Alcott, The. Louisa May Alcott

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ up a little; it is quite time you tried. A change of posture will help the ache wonderfully and make this 'dreadful bed,' as you call it, seem very comfortable when you come back to it."

      "I can't, Ma'am, my legs ain't a bit of use, and I ain't strong enough even to try."

      "You never will be if you don't try. Never mind the poor legs; Ben will carry you. I've got the matron's easy chair all ready and can make you very cozy by the fire. It's Christmas Day, you know; why not celebrate it by overcoming the despondency that slows your recovery and prove that illness has not taken all the manhood out of you?"

      "It has, though. I'll never be the man I was, and may as well lie here till spring, for I shall be no use if I do get up."

      If Sam was a growler, this man was a whiner, and few hospital wards are without both. But knowing that much suffering had soured the former and pitifully weakened the latter, their nurse had patience with them and still hoped to bring them 'round again. As Turner whimpered out his last dismal speech, she bethought herself of something which, in the hurry of the morning, had slipped her mind till now.

      "By the way, I've got another present for you. The doctor thought I'd better not give it yet, lest it should excite you too much; but I think you need excitement to make you forget yourself, and that when you find how many blessings you have to be grateful for, you will make an effort to enjoy them."

      "Blessings, Ma'am? I don't see 'em."

      "Don't you see one now?" And drawing a letter from her pocket, she held it before his eyes. His listless face brightened a little as he took it, but gloomed over again as he said fretfully:

      "It's from my wife, I guess. I like to get her letters, but they are always full of grievings and groanings over me, so they don't do me much good."

      "She does not grieve and groan in this one. She is too happy to do that, and so will you be when you read it."

      "I don't see why—hey?—why you don't mean—"

      "Yes I do" cried the little woman, clapping her hands and laughing so delightedly that the Knight of the Rueful Countenance was betrayed into a broad smile for the first time in many weeks. "Is not a splendid little daughter a present to rejoice over and be grateful for?''

      "Hooray! Hold a bit—it's all right—I'll be out again in a minute."

      After this remarkably spirited outburst, Turner vanished under the bedclothes, letter and all. Whether he read, laughed, or cried in the seclusion of that cotton grotto was unknown; but his nurse suspected that he did all three. When he reappeared he looked as if, during that pause, he had dived into his "sea of troubles" and fished up his old self again.

      "What will I name her?" was his first remark, delivered with such vivacity that his neighbors began to think he was getting delirious again.

      "What is your wife's name?" asked Miss Hale, gladly entering into the domesticities that were producing such a salutary effect.

      "Her name's Ann, but neither of us like it. I'd fixed on George, because I wanted my boy called after me; and now you see I ain't a bit prepared for this young woman." Very proud of the young woman he seemed, nevertheless, and perfectly resigned to the loss of the expected son and heir.

      "Why not call her Georgiana then? That combines both her parents' names and is not a bad one in itself."

      "Now that's just the brightest thing I ever heard in my life!" cried Turner, sitting bolt upright in his excitement, though half an hour before he would have considered it an utterly impossible feat. "Georgiana Butterfield Turner—it's a tip-top name, Ma'am, and we can call her Georgie just the same. Ann will like that; it's so genteel. Bless them both! Don't I wish I was at home." And down he lay again, despairing.

      "You can be before long, if you choose. Get your strength up, and off you go. Come, begin at once—drink your beef broth and sit up for a few minutes, just in honor of the good news, you know."

      "I will, by George! No, by Georgiana! That's a good one, ain't it?" and the whole ward was electrified by hearing a genuine giggle from the veteran sad sack.

      Down went the detested beef broth, and up scrambled the determined drinker with many groans and a curious jumble of chuckles, staggers, and fragmentary repetitions of his first, last, and only joke. But when fairly settled in the great rocking chair, with the gray flannel gown comfortably on and the new slippers getting their inaugural scorch, Turner forgot his bones and swung to and fro before the fire, feeling amazingly well and looking very like a trussed fowl being roasted in the primitive fashion.

      The languid importance of the man and the irrepressible satisfaction of the parent were both laughable and touching things to see, for the happy soul could not keep the glad tidings to himself. A hospital ward is often a small republic, beautifully governed by pity, patience, and the mutual sympathy that lessens mutual suffering. Turner was no favorite; but more than one honest fellow felt his heart warm towards him as they saw his dismal face kindle with fatherly pride and heard the querulous quaver of his voice soften with fatherly affection, as he said, "My little Georgie."

      "He'll do now, Ma'am. This has given him the boost he needed, and, in a week or two, he'll be off our hands."

      Big Ben made the remark with a beaming countenance, and Big Ben deserves a word of praise, because he never said one for himself. He was an ex-patient promoted to an attendant's place, which he filled so well that he was regarded as a model for all the rest to copy. Patient, strong, and tender, he seemed to combine many of the best traits of both man and woman. He appeared to know by instinct where the soft spot was to be found in every heart, and how best to help sick body or sad soul. No one would have guessed this to have seen him lounging in the hall during one of the short rests he allowed himself.

      He was a brawny, six-foot fellow in red shirt, blue trousers tucked into his boots, and an old cap, visor always up, and under it a roughly bearded, coarsely featured face, whose prevailing expression was one of great gravity and kindliness, though a humorous twinkle of the eye at times betrayed the man, whose droll sayings often set the boys in a roar. "A good-natured, clumsy body" would have been the verdict passed upon him by a causal observer, but watch him in his ward and see how great a wrong that hasty judgment would have done him.

      Unlike his predecessor, who helped himself generously when the meals came up and carelessly served out rations for the rest, leaving even the most helpless to bungle for themselves or wait till he was done, Ben often left nothing for himself or took cheerfully such cold bits as remained when all the rest were served; so patiently feeding the weak, being hands and feet to the maimed, and being such a pleasant provider for all that, as one of the boys said, "It gives a relish to the vittles to have Ben fetch 'em." If one were restless, Ben carried him in his strong arms; if one were undergoing the sharp torture of the surgeon's knife, Ben held him with a touch as firm as kind; if one were homesick, Ben wrote letters for him with great hearty blots and dashes under all the affectionate or important words.

      More than one poor fellow read his fate in Ben's pitying eyes and breathed his last breath away on Ben's broad breast—always a quiet pillow till its work was done—then he would heave a sigh of genuine grief as his big hand softly closed the tired eyes and made another comrade ready for the last review. Our Civil War showed us many Bens, because the same power of human pity that makes women brave also makes men tender; and each is the more womanly or the more manly for these revelations of unsuspected strength and sympathies.

      At twelve o'clock, dinner was the prevailing idea in Ward number three, and when the door opened, every man sniffed as savory odors broke loose from the kitchens and СКАЧАТЬ