Partners (4 page)

"But they do die when these white wagons with bells come to the houses. There was one came last week for a little baby at the nursery where I stayed."

"Well, your sister isn't going to die now. Not now. She's going to get well and take care of you."

"But what will I do? Will I have to go back and stay--with--that--awful----woman? I don't like her! She'll smack me, I know! She said she would! And it--hurts----something--awful!"

"No, you don't have to go back to her, not ever again!" said Reuben. "You're done with her!" And he hugged the child closer.

The boy was still for a moment, and then he asked with anxious eyes: "Then, do I go to the hospital, too?"

"No," said Reuben, "you're not sick, so you couldn't go to the hospital. We're just going in a minute to see that your sister gets a nice room and is all right, you know, and then you're coming to visit me till your sister gets well and can come home."

The child looked up anxiously and studied his face, and Reuben turned on his pleasant grin for the little fellow.

"We're going to have a grand time together, fella," he said reassuringly.

"I don't--
know
you--very well--yet," said the boy hesitantly, "but--I think----I like you--pretty well!"

"Fine!" said Reuben heartily. "And I like you, too, so don't worry now. We'll have to be pretty quiet when we get out, but I guess you'll understand. Your sister needs to have things rather quiet. And you know there are lots of other sick people in a hospital, so we'll just be as still as can be while we stay."

The boy bowed gravely.

"And can I see Gillian again?"

"Well, that will depend on what the doctor says. If she's awake, perhaps you can, but if she's asleep, we'll have to let her sleep."

The child nodded gravely.

"Awright!" he said with a sigh of disappointment, and Reuben's heart ached for him. At that minute he had no memory of Anise Glinden or the play he was supposed to be in that evening. And in two hours more the Glinden car would perhaps be waiting for him at his rooming place. But he had other things to attend to now.

No one was noticing the man and the little boy when the ambulance finally drew up at the entrance to the hospital. They got out and stood at one side while the stretcher was lifted out and carried in, and they followed the white face on the cot with awe in their hearts. The girl's eyes were closed again, and she did not appear to be breathing.

"Is--that--my Gillian?" whispered the child, lifting his small shy hand and pointing with a half-raised index finger.

Reuben looked down at the great eyes with plain terror written in them, and tried to smile, but somehow his own heart was afraid for that still young face that did not even hold anguish now in its whiteness. He nodded and hoped his assent didn't carry too much of his own uncertainty.

Noel put down his hand and grasped tighter the man's hand that held his.

"Is--she--asleep?" he murmured half-audibly.

Reuben nodded again and held the little hand closer with a comforting warmth.

Solemnly they followed to the big elevator door that stood open.

"Private or semiprivate?" asked the orderly impersonally, looking at Reuben.

"Private!" said Reuben quickly, realizing that this was something he had not thought about but feeling that it ought to be a private room, of course, whether the company would stand for it or not. Something in the memory of that girl's anguished eyes seemed to cry out for privacy. The elevator man, ready to start, looked down at Noel with a withering glance.

"Children not allowed," he muttered toward Reuben, who was still holding him by the hand.

The doctor who had come with them spoke crisply.

"It's all right this time, Anderson; it's
necessary
."

"He's supposed to sit over there on the bench," said Anderson, speaking under orders.

Noel's quick ears heard, and he gave one wild, frightened glance toward the indicated bench and then lifted appealing eyes to the doctor. Reuben saw that slow, silent tears were flooding down the boy's white cheeks.

"No!" said the doctor. "We may need him! The lady was afraid for him!"

The elevator man set his lips disagreeably but started the car moving upward, and Noel gripped Reuben's hand as if his very life depended on it.

Reuben looked down at the earnest little face with wonder, the great eyes lifted up and watching the car go up, startled, speculative, concerned, as if he himself had great responsibility about it all. Studying the child, the young man marveled at the beauty of that young face. No wonder the sister was concerned about the beautiful baby. And yet he wasn't all baby, just the lingering outlines of the helplessness of infancy, with a dawning apprehension of the great things of life.

Reuben had not had much contact with childhood. He had no brothers and sisters of his own, no living young relatives on his side of the family, no touch with little children anywhere to have given him experience of how lovely a child can be, and he looked with almost awe and wondered what kind of task this one was likely to be, this task he had accepted for himself with such alacrity. And yet, of course, it wouldn't last long. Likely the girl would soon be all right and take over her brother again.

But then he glanced toward the white face on the stretcher again, and it was so deathlike in its pallor that he caught his breath with dismay. Was it possible that this was no mere collapse from weariness and lack of food? Could it be that it had been going on too long and the girl would never rally? And if so, what would be his responsibility? Would there be relatives and friends who would step in if they were notified and take the boy? And if so, where would he find them? Would there be a way to reach them? Would the office perhaps have some data that would help in locating them? If not, what would become of the boy? He looked down into those clear young troubled eyes and felt sure that if anything like that happened, he would never break his promise to the girl whose anguished eyes had pled with him.

His grasp on the little hand tightened as the elevator stopped and the steel door swung back, and the small hand responded quickly to the friendly clasp. Reuben looked down and smiled, and a sad little semblance of a smile responded on the quivering young lips. A sudden thrill went to Reuben's heart. What a dear little wise, young soul, so frightened and so lonely, yet so brave!

They were at the floor now, and the patient was wheeled out and down the hall, the little procession following. Another nurse appeared. The doctor murmured an order and a door was opened.

"You and the kid wait there in the reception room," said the doctor. "I'll call you if you're needed."

Reuben led the boy into a small room furnished with comfortable chairs and tables and much-used magazines.

The boy obediently sat down on the edge of a low chair with his eyes fixed on Reuben.

"What--is the matter--wif Gillian?" he asked in a hoarse little voice. "Is she deaded?" There was pain and knowledge and great trepidation in his tone.

"Oh, no," said Reuben cheerfully, sincerely hoping that he was telling the truth. "She fainted in the office, and the manager thought she ought to see a doctor to be sure she was all right. We hope she'll be better now in a few minutes. You see, she didn't go out and get her lunch. She was busy. I guess that made her faint. She must have been hungry."

The boy shook his head.

"She's never hungry," he said in his grave, precise tone, the tone of a child who has been exclusively with older people. "She--always--gives--me half her part of--suppah! She says she's not hungry."

"Yes?" said Reuben thoughtfully, reading more between the lines than the boy knew. "Well, what did you have for breakfast this morning? Do you remember?" He felt like a contemptible spy asking such questions, but somehow he had to find out the worst.

The boy nodded.

"We had--oatmeal! The last there was in the box. Gillian gave me all the milk. She said--she didn't want any."

"Did you have enough?" Reuben looked at the boy keenly, and the color crept into the thin white cheeks.

"Oh, it was--awright!" he answered diffidently.

So, there was loyalty, too, in the sweet, strong soul of the boy. He was scarcely more than a baby, and yet he was like that!

"Well, and then, you get your lunch at that nursery home?"

The boy nodded.

"I'm
s'posed
to," he said with a sigh.

"What do they have for lunch there?" said Reuben, half-idly watching the child, wondering just what should be the next procedure.
Supper?
And where should he take him? To his rooming house? There was no extra bed in his one room, and he couldn't put this mere baby in another room by himself. It was going to be complicated. So he asked Noel, "What did you eat today?"

The child averted his eyes shamedly, and the color stole up into the thin white cheeks again.

"I didn't!" he said, half-defiantly.

"You didn't eat anything?" exclaimed Reuben, sitting up straight and looking at him perplexedly. "Look here now, why not? Do you want to get sick like your sister?"

"I couldn't eat it!" he said, still defiantly. "It was old cabbage an' bread. Old dry bread and cabbage with a lotta grease on it, and it makes me sick every time I eat it!"

"Why, you poor child! Why didn't you tell the woman you couldn't eat it?"

"I did! But she said I couldn't be too choosy there! I had to eat what was set before me or go hungry! But I told her I wasn't hungry."

The young lips were pursed together and the big eyes were lifted bravely. "I didn't want any of their old lunch!"

"Well, you must be terribly hungry now," said Reuben distressedly. "I'd better go out and get you something right away."

"
No!
" said the boy with quick alarm in his face. "I--want----my Gillian! Can't I see my Gillian?" And suddenly two great crystal tears stood for an instant in his beautiful eyes and then brimmed over and rolled slowly down his cheeks.

"Hold everything!" said a voice from the doorway, and there was the house doctor just entering from the hall.

Reuben and the boy looked up startled.

"You dropped something, kid!" said the doctor. "Didn't you know it? Two big fat ones! Where are they? Can't you find them? I saw them fall on the floor."

The boy looked down puzzled for an instant, and then he looked up with sudden understanding and burst into a little nervous laugh, and Reuben and the doctor joined in.

"Now, that's better!" said the doctor with approval. "So, tell me, what's all this about? Don't you know they don't allow children here?"

The child's lip quivered, and his eyes were instantly full of earnest pleading.

"I want my Gillian!" he said, young anguish in his voice. "She is my sister, and I bringed her here because she was sick. I'm not children!" There was an indignant and mature resentment in his tone.

"Oh, you're not? I see. You came in the capacity of protector! Is that it? Well, then, you're the young man I'm looking for! Your sister wants to see you. But first, before you go in, I've got to talk to you."

The earnest little face was at instant attention.

"I'm the doctor that is taking care of Gillian, you see, and you've got to obey me. Do you understand?"

The boy bowed his head gravely. "Yessir!"

"Your sister has been pretty sick. I think she's going to be better now. But you mustn't do anything to excite her. Do you know what
excite
means?"

"Yessir! It means not talk loud nor cry!"

"Okay!" said the doctor, winking at Reuben. "I think you'll do. Now, listen! You go in there and smile at her. Can you smile?"

Noel struggled with two more brimming tears and managed a watery, contorted little smile.

"Okay, kid! You'll do! Now, you just go stand by the bed in there and smile at Gillian, and say hello, and then if she smiles back, you can step softly near the bed and throw her a kiss and say good night. Understand?"

"Sure!" said Noel. Then he reached out and took Reuben's hand in his and walked solemnly down the hall, stopping at the door where they had left Gillian.

The boy's eyes sought the bed and the white face on the pillow with the closed eyes.

"Hello, Gillian!" he said with almost bated breath and a yearning look in his wide eyes, half-awe, half-fear.

The girl opened her eyes and looked at the little boy, great relief coming into her tired face, a light in her eyes that almost overcame the utter lassitude that had been there but a moment before. The smile that came was like a ray of sunshine to the frightened child.

"Noel!" her weak voice managed. "Are--you----all--right?"

The boy's eagerness shone out now above the anxiety.

"Sure, Gillian. We be awright." Then he stepped closer and laid his young lips tenderly against her forehead.

"S'long, Gillian. I come again! You get well!" His words were very low as if he hoped the doctor wouldn't hear that he had said more than he had been told. He smiled and waved his gallant little hand, stepping back.

But Reuben stepped nearer for an instant and spoke clearly.

"I'll take care of him as if he were my own," he said. "You needn't worry for an instant!"

There was a smile on the girl's lips before the great weariness blotted it out again, and the eyelids closed with a quiver.

Reuben led the boy away quickly and silently, his heart shaken with fear. She looked so gray and very tired, as if perhaps only heaven could rest her. His hand gripped the small one in his with a tender, protecting reassurance, and the little boy looked up and smiled sadly as if almost he understood.

Silently they trod the marble halls, the boy trying to keep step with the man, a sense of great importance upon him, and for the first time perhaps a question of what might be coming next.

 

"And now, where do you want to go?" said Reuben, looking down at the boy as they came out of the great door and went down the stone steps to the sidewalk.

"To my home?" said the boy with a sigh. The words were a question. "It will be lonely in my home without my Gillian."