Rose, Robin and little May were playing in the beautiful meadow one bright afternoon in July. The birds were singing in the trees and on the hedges; buttercups and daisies and other flowers were blooming around. A soft, sweet breeze blew in the faces of the children, while the stream which ran at a short distance from them gleamed bright in the sunshine, and made the pleasant gurgling sound which had lulled little May to sleep, for Rose had taken her baby sister on her lap when she was tired of play, and had seated herself upon a pretty green bank, with the stream running at her feet.
A number of buttercups and daisies which had been gathered and tied into little nosegays lay round about, and a daisy chain encircled little May's neck and arms.
Rose was taking great care of her baby sister; though it was a warm day, she had wrapped part of her cotton skirt around the child's bare legs but this may have been to protect her from the hot sun, which poured down upon the two children.
As she sat rocking gently backwards and forwards, she watched the flies very carefully, lest any should light upon her sleeping charge. Sometimes a big bumble bee buzzed by, and then Rose was frightened lest it should settle on May's face. But the bees were after the flowers and not after the baby's pink cheeks, so they flew by and did her no harm. Then Rose kept one eye upon a frisky little terrier dog which was barking at the cows, fearing lest it should come too near, at the same time watching her little brother Robin, who was busy at a distance lifting great stones and throwing them into the stream.
Rose knew that he was getting covered with dirt, which Robin called "getting into a pickle," but she could not make him hear without disturbing the baby, so she sat wondering which was the worst — to have to wash Robin clean, or to have the baby wake and cry.
Cherry Cottage, their little home, lay just on the other side of the meadow. She could see the smoke curling from the chimney, and the little window of the room where her mother was lying ill. She could see the top of the cherry tree covered with red cherries, and now she could see the door of the cottage open, and a young lady come out and walk down the garden path. Then Rose watched eagerly, as she saw her open the gate of the meadow and come up to where Robin was playing.
As soon as the little fellow saw her coming, he threw a heavy stone he had succeeded in lifting with a great splash into the stream; then he made a bound forward to meet her, but he caught his foot in the long grass and fell flat upon his face. A little dispirited but not hurt, he rose rather slowly, put his finger in his mouth, and glanced up shyly.
"Well, Robin, what are you doing here?" asked Miss Brookland.
"I was just trying to fill the stream with these stones," said the little boy.
"But see how wet you have made your clothes and your boots are covered with mud!"
"They just did it theirselves," sighed Robin; "I was only throwing stones into the little river, to try and make a bridge for you to cross over next time you come to see Mother."
"Thank you very much, Robin, but Mother is very ill. I have been to see her, and she seems worse. Now I want you and Rose to come in and get your tea, and go quietly to bed."
"But I have not seen my mother for a long time," said Robin, "not since dinnertime. Do take me to see Mother, please, Miss Marian; I'll be very good."
"Well, let us tell Rose to bring baby in, and give her her supper, and we will see about it."
They walked towards the little girl, who got up with the sleeping child and followed Miss Brookland to the cottage door.
"Now, Rose, give little May some bread and milk, and Robin a slice of bread and butter. I am going to sit by your mother till Dr. Brookland comes. Ah! here he is; I am glad!" she exclaimed, as a horse and carriage stopped at the garden gate, and a grey-haired, kind-looking gentleman stepped out.
Marian walked quickly to meet her father, then stopped. Looking earnestly into his face, she said,
"Mrs. Rivers seems much worse, Father; I fear she is sinking fast, and it is a sad thing to see the three little ones. They are indoors; their mother will not let them leave her, though Mrs. Gray offered to take them for a few days. Their uncle, Mrs. Rivers's brother, is expected tonight; you know I wrote to him yesterday."
"Dear, dear, it is a sad, sad case, and there is no hope, but I will go up and see her; don't weary yourself with too much watching," he said, gently touching his daughter's cheek.
Little Robin, hearing the sound of the wheels and the horses' feet, ran into the garden, and at sight of the doctor, asked politely,
"Please, Doctor, will you do one thing for me?"
"Well, little man, what is it?" replied Dr. Brookland putting his hand on the boy's curly head.
"Do make my mother better! Give her some of the good medicine you gave me when I was very ill," answered Robin, turning rosy red, but fixing his eyes on the doctor's face, and then adding quickly with a rush of words, as if his little heart were full,
"You and Miss Marian can do everything. Please try hard."
The doctor sighed, and looked at the little, upturned, anxious face.
"I will do what I can, Robin, but I can do very little for Mother now. God is the One to look to; ask Him to help you in your trouble."
"I am always getting into trouble," said the little boy ruefully, as he followed the doctor into the house.
No sooner were both the visitors upstairs, than throwing himself on the floor, he began to cry.
"Stop, Robin, do; there's a good boy, and come and sit on the doorstep with May and me," said Rose.
The kind words the doctor had spoken to her had upset her. In the quiet of that summer evening, it seemed so sad and solemn. She knew her mother was very ill upstairs, and had heard a neighbor say, not many days before, "I am sure Mrs. Rivers will never get up again." The little girl was pondering quietly what she had heard, but any one looking on might have said she did not seem to care much.
Robin rose and took his seat on the doorstep. The cherry tree stretched out its branches on one side; the meadow, with the cows feeding in it, lay on the other; the doctor's horse stood by the roadside whisking his tail over his side every now and again to keep off the flies. A flock of sheep were being driven slowly down the road, raising a cloud of dust as they went past.
"I wish I were a little lamb; they all have their mothers. I feel so alone — no mother, no nothing!"
"I feel rather lonesome too," said Rose. "The doctor told me just now, God would take care of us, but He seems so far away in His heaven up there, and we are nothing but children. It is too much to think He would come down to be with us."
"Mother said God made us, so I suppose He loves us, doesn't He?" asked Robin.
They were all quiet after that, watching the leaves of the trees as they moved gently, and made a low rustling sound, and watching the sun go down over the beautiful green fields.
"I wish we could all go where Mother's going," said Rose. "I wish she could take us."
Robin, now tired, began to cry again.
"Hush! don't cry or poor Mother will hear you, and begin to fret," said Rose, throwing one arm round him, while she held May with the other.
"I want Mother; I haven't given her my goodnight kiss, and I will go to her."
"No, no, wait a little. Miss Marian and the doctor are in Mother's room, and I'm afraid she is worse. Oh! don't cry; Mother will fret if she hears you."
"I want to see her, and know what's wrong with her; I don't believe you care," he answered crossly.
Tears came into Rose's eyes, and fell on her cheeks, but she did not answer till a great sob came, which caused May to look up, stroke her face and say, "Poor," and then to begin to cry too.
At the sound of Robin's cries, the bedroom door at the top of the staircase opened softly, a light step was heard above, and Marian Brookland came down to where the little ones were sitting.
"Poor little Robin, what is the matter? Do you want Mother? Well, Mother wants you. She wishes you all to come and speak to her."
As she spoke, Miss Brookland looked very sad, just as if she had been crying, but she tried to smile upon the children, and held out her hands to little May, who ceased crying and threw out her soft, white arms to be taken.
Robin jumped up, and catching hold of her dress gave a sigh of relief, saying, "Does Mother want me, Miss Marian, to give me my goodnight kiss?"
"Yes, she does; but she is very, very ill, and you must be so quiet and gentle. The doctor is there, and he says if he lets you come, there must be no noise. Try and not cry if you think Mother looks ill, or she will get worse. Will you promise?"
"Yes we will try hard," said Rose. "But Mother will soon get well again, won't she? Cannot Doctor Brookland give her some good medicine to make her cheeks rosy once more?"
"I cannot promise, dear, but come quietly now."
And carrying the baby, and taking Robin by the hand, she opened the bedroom door.