I didn't remember anything, until I woke up and found myself lying on the porch, and Mr. Taylor bending over me with a glass of water in his hand, all the Teddy-cats purring at me, and my head on somebody's lap. Mr. Taylor was saying, "Sho, I guess he's coming to, and ye'd better not let him see ye, jist at first"; but I turned quick before she could move, and grabbed her and said, "Oh, Aunty May."
I thought I'd shouted it, but it sounded just like a squeak.
Aunty May didn't care. She just lifted me up in her arms and held me tight, and said, "Oh, Billy, how could you run away from me?"
It took me the longest while explaining to her and to Mr. Turner and to Mr. Taylor, who didn't say anything but "Sho" and shoo the cats, and never looked at the others. But I knew he'd hear every word and remember it, if I didn't, so I told them exactly what happened. How sorry Henry was to go away, but that he had to, and that I didn't know where the place was that we'd parted at, and how I thought he was coming back when we started.
Mr. Turner said it was all right, that Henry was an honest, industrious boy, but he had fits of homesickness, though they had never known about his getting up early and walking.
Aunty May forgave me, and Mr. and Mrs. Turner forgave me too.
Mrs. Turner was in the launch, and was just telling me to jump in and come up with Aunty May to dinner, when Mr. Taylor, who had been listening and not saying anything, said, "I hope that wasn't the Lateeka Toll-House ye stopped at, young man. I heerd say there was so much diphtheria and scarlet fever there that they hev closed the tollhouse."
Then I remembered what the boy had said, and I had to say it to Aunty May, and Aunty held me very tightly for a minute, and said to Mrs. Turner, "No: it wouldn't be safe for the other children. I'll keep William down here, until we see if it develops."
Then both the ladies nodded to each other very sadly, but Mr. Turner said, "Oh, he's a young husky. He'll be all right"; and they went away.
But I did develop. So much, that Aunty May had a sign put on the house, and nobody came near us for weeks and weeks but the nurse and the doctor, and Mr. Taylor, who used to hand things over the fence. And oh, how tired I got of being in bed, and being sick. Then when I got a little better, Aunty May and the doctor had a big tent put up in the woods near us, and the nurse went away, and Aunty May and I lived in the tent together, and I started to get better and write this book.
First, just a little at a time, and then by and by a good deal each day, and all the time Aunty May stayed with me, and never said I was naughty or anything. Just called me "Billy-boy" and spelled all the big words, and took care of me like I was a baby, because I was so weak.
One day, when I had sat up all day, dressed, I thought Aunty May looked kind of excited, and I saw a letter sticking out of her pocket, and I asked her if Aunty Edith was coming home, and she said, "Yes, very soon." She smiled so that I knew it must be something nice, so I clapped my hands and said, "Then Uncle Burt's all well again, too." For every time while I was sick, when I asked about Uncle Burt, Aunty May would say, "He's much better, but we mustn't talk." I had to be patient and wait then, but this day I said, "Oh. Aunty May, he is really better, isn't he?"
Then Aunty May laid down her letter and came and sat down by me and said, "Billy, how would you like to hear about Uncle Burt to-day?" and I told her, "I'd like to." Aunty May told me then that Uncle Burt had been shot very badly in the leg, and that he had a fever beside, and had been so ill that they thought he would die, but that Aunty Edith had gone out there and taken such good care of him that he was better, and was coming back with Aunty Edith. I asked for how long, and Aunty May got a little sad and said, "That's the hard part of it for Uncle Burt, Billy. He won't ever be able to go back to the army again. His leg is so badly hurt that he will always be a little lame."
Then Aunty May burst out crying, and so did I, for it seemed hard that big, splendid Uncle Burt should be lame. By and by Aunty told me that he had got the hurt when he turned back to help one of his men who had been shot; that even though he was hurt himself, he brought the soldier back to camp; so I ought to be proud of him.
But I was anyway, I told her. I couldn't be any more than I am. I knew Uncle Burt would do a thing like that. I just expected it of him. But I'd like to kill the man who hurt his leg.
Aunty May told me not to say that, for the poor thing had been killed, and she said, "War is a horrible thing," And I said, "Yes, 'm, but it wasn't a real war, only a skirmish"; and Aunty May said, "It was real enough for that poor wretch and for Burt."
I said, "But Uncle Burt'll find something else to do, some other way to be splendid, won't he?" And Aunty May just nodded her head, and we didn't say anything more for a long time and I lay still thinking about Uncle Burt and wondering how it would seem to be him, and lame. I said, "Will he use a crutch?" but Aunty May didn't know. She hoped not. And now, would I please get well, and be ready for her to hand me over whole to Uncle Burt.
I said I would, but she'd have to be handed over too, for Uncle Burt told me to take care of her for him.
I got better, and so did Aunty May. As fast as I grew better, she got more cheerful, and we used to have lots of fun. But all the time we stayed in the tent, and never went to the house. I used to hear hammerings and things, but I never saw anything, because I wasn't allowed to walk yet on account of the anti-toxin. I don't know whether that word is spelled right, but I don't like to ask Aunty May, it always makes her pale when I say the word.
One day, Aunty May brought a boy down the path with her. A mule boy. I heard the mules waiting for him outside, and it was the "cap and eel" boy, and he said, "How are you, young feller? Heerd you was sick!"
"Who told you?" I said.
"The Mushrat," he said. "He came a-whooping and a-running up the canal one night, an' hollered to me in passing that he wasn't going to bring no pitcher-books back to no diphtheria sore-throaters. Kina cowardly fellers, them mush-rats, so I brung it myself. Say, when ye going to get up and paste me?"
"When you put those turkey-red trousers on your mule," I said.
And then we both laughed, and Aunty May give him another picture-book, and some fruit, and asked him to come again, and he promised, and I lay back and heard his mule bells jingling up the path. It seemed so nice and peaceful, and everybody was so kind to me, that I felt lumpy inside, especially when I thought of Uncle Burt coming.
But would he be angry with me for bringing germs to his house, and right close to Aunty May? I asked Aunty May what she thought, and she said Uncle Burt would agree with her that I really couldn't help it, and that he wouldn't blame me, especially if she handed me over all right.
So we went to work on jellies and things and tried to get well, as fast as anything before he came.
One afternoon Aunty May said to me, "Billy, I think you're strong enough to go back to the house now. We've got rid of all the germs and the sickness in this nice big white tent, and now, my little soldier, we'll go back to barracks and wait for our Commanding Officer."
We packed up my books and papers and went down the path to the house, but it wasn't the same house any more.
It was bigger, and all around it ran a wide piazza, and on it were big wicker chairs, and Aunty May put me in one of them, and asked me how I liked it. And I said it was lovely, and it was. Inside there were more rooms than before and a bathroom with a big shiny tub and running water, and while it was a country house still, it was much more like a city house.
Aunty May said, "Do you think Aunty Edith will like it?" and I said yes; then she said, "Do you think a sick soldier would like to get well on this piazza?" and I said I knew he would. It was the finest ever.
We took hands and went around and looked at everything, and then we set the table together. Aunty May wouldn't let Mrs. Katy Smith, who had come to help, do a thing to the table. We set it for four people. So I said, "Is company coming to dinner?" Aunty May hugged me and said, "Yes, Billy, but it's a surprise. Don't ask." But I kept guessing,—Charlotte and Grace Turner, and Mr. and Mrs. Turner, and everybody I knew in East Penniwell, and Aunty May said, "You're cold. You're cold."
Just then a carriage stopped at our door, and Aunty Edith got out, and then a thin pale man got out, and he carried a cane and leaned on Aunty Edith, and he came into the room: And IT WAS UNCLE BURT!
I gave such a yell that Aunty Edith looked frightened and Aunty May threw her arms about me and said, "Oh, Billy dear, don't get excited. It's bad for—" But Uncle Burt said, "No, it isn't. It's good for me." And he went to hug me, but Aunty May hadn't got her arms untwisted from me yet, so that he hugged both of us. He didn't seem to notice it at all until I pointed out to him that it was me he wanted and that he was kissing Aunty May, and he said, "Dear me, you don't say so"—and kissed her again. Then he kissed me.
He sat down, and Aunty May and me went and stood by him. That is, I stood by him and leaned on his well knee, and Aunty May kneeled down and put her head on his hurt knee, and he didn't seem to mind it at all. He put his hand on her head and smiled over to Aunty Edith, and she came and said, "Come, Billy, show me the house."
I said, "Yes, Aunty Edith, but first I want to give Aunty May back to Uncle Burt. She's all right, the germs didn't hurt her, though she got quite thin taking care of me."
"Did she, poor girl," said Uncle Burt.
Aunty May lifted her head up and said, "And Billy's all right. I took care of him,—for you."
Then Uncle Burt smiled at us both. His old smile, though he was so dreadful thin and pale. He said, "Well, and now I've come home to look after you both."
I showed Aunty Edith the house, and she told me all about her journey, and how long it took her, and how sick Uncle Burt was then, and how much better he was now; and that though he would always walk with a limp, he wouldn't need a crutch,—which made me very glad.
Then Uncle Burt and Aunty May came in, and Aunty Edith kissed Aunty May and they went to take off Aunty Edith's hat.
Uncle Burt let me take him to his room, and he told me, while I fished out a handkerchief for him and brushed his hair, that Aunty May was going to marry him and be my real Aunty, and I was to live with them both for always.
So this is a good place to end W.A.G.'s Tale.
THE END
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