Brentwood (Romance Classic). Grace Livingston Hill

Oh, Father! What is it?" cried Betty rushing over to him.

      "Oh, it's nothing!" murmured the man with an effort. "Just a little dizzy, that's all. I'll be all right in a minute!"

      "You had no breakfast! That's what makes it!" cried the girl in deep distress. She did not look toward her new-found sister. She seemed to have forgotten her presence. And the man on the stairs had not even seen her. She was getting an inside glimpse of her family off their guard, and a sharp new thrilling pain went through her heart. This was what they had been enduring part of the time while she rode on the top wave of luxury. Hungry! And she had often had to be coaxed to eat!

      That picture of her father sitting on the stairs, his head bowed in his hands, would stay with her always, she knew. Tall and well-built, but stooped. Shapely hands, thin and blue-veined, the hands of a scholar or a gentleman. Shabby in his summer-weight business suit, yet with an air of having known better days. All this she saw in a flash. And Evan Brower had dared to suggest her family might be an embarrassment! Her heart suddenly arose in defense.

      "I'll get you a drink of water!" Betty was saying. "Thank fortune, they haven't turned off the water yet!" and she vanished through the door into the kitchen.

      Marjorie saw there was a door from the little parlor where she stood and opening it she followed and found her sister as she brought back the water.

      "I'll get him something to eat right away," she whispered. "Is there a restaurant or any place near by where they have food?"

      "Only the drugstore. You can get a bottle of milk. Yes, bring it back quick. He didn't go out to the mission last night, he felt too miserable to go in the cold. And I suspect he hasn't been going there very often. It hurts his pride terribly. Yes, bring some milk quick. He's probably brought enough fuel to start the fire, and I can get it going while you're gone."

      Marjorie ran down the uneven little sidewalk, breathless with the thought of her father sitting there in the bare ugly house, cold and hungry, dizzy with faintness, and her mother, no telling how sick upstairs! It was too dreadful! Why hadn't she come sooner? Why hadn't she taken the first train after she found the letter? Why had she dared hesitate? Why didn't her heart tell her how much her own were in need?

      Then her quick mind began planning what to do. Her father should have something hot, like soup or coffee. Probably both. In all probability her sister hadn't had much to eat either. And likely the mother had had very little, although they seemed to have saved everything for her. She must somehow manage to get some strengthening food to them at once. But how, and what? How far would it be to a good restaurant? Well, the drugstore would have hot-water bags. She could perhaps get them to fill one or two. And thermos bottles. Would there be any way to get a can of soup heated and fill a thermos bottle?

      Arrived breathless at the diminutive drugstore she found to her joy that they had a soda fountain and served soup or coffee with sandwiches. The service wasn't very efficient and there was very little choice. But there was hot coffee and there was hot tomato soup, that is, it wasn't hot yet but the man said he could heat them both in a jiffy. And he had just two thermos bottles left. He agreed to rinse them out and fill one with coffee and the other with soup, and also to fill two hot-water bags with hot water and wrap them in newspapers. He hadn't had such a large order in weeks.

      While he was getting them ready Marjorie hurried across the street to the grocery and bought two baskets big enough to carry her purchases, and also a dozen oranges, a loaf of bread, a pound of butter and a pound of sliced ham.

      Back at the drugstore she added a quart bottle of milk to her other purchases and started back to the house. But she found she could not make very good time, a great basket in either hand. It was the heaviest load that she had ever carried in her life. She fairly staggered under it, but she would not waste time resting.

      Arrived at the house she found the front door unlatched, but her father was no longer sitting on the stairs, and she heard sounds from the cellar.

      Betty came hurrying up the cellar stairs as she came out to the kitchen, a long streak of soot on one white cheek and her eyes wide and worried.

      "He would go down and start the fire," she said in a distressed voice. "I couldn't do anything with him." Her voice was almost like a sob. "He always thinks a woman has to be waited on, but he's had another dizzy spell and he's sitting on the cellar stairs now. Did you get anything?"

      "Yes," said Marjorie eagerly, "I brought hot soup and coffee, and here's some aromatic ammonia. Perhaps that will help too. And here, I have two hot-water bags nice and hot. Take one down and put it on his lap. Haven't you got a flannel or bit of old something to wrap it in? He ought to get warm right away."

      "Oh, you're great!" said Betty and the tears were rolling down her cheeks, tears of relief.

      She snatched a nicked cup from the shelf and poured out coffee and with a hot-water bag under her arm hurried down cellar again.

      Marjorie hunted around and found plates and more cups and a knife, and cut some slices of bread, buttering them and putting ham between them. When Betty came back upstairs she had a plateful of nice sandwiches ready for her, and a cup of coffee.

      "Take a swallow of this," said Marjorie holding out a cup of coffee, "and take this sandwich in your hand. You'll be sick next if you don't look out."

      Betty looked hungrily at the food.

      "But I must take something up to Mother, first," she said.

      "No, drink this first, quick. It won't take you but a minute, and you can work better with something inside of you. Take this sandwich in your hand, and carry a cup of something up to Mother. Which should it be? Coffee first, or soup, or isn't she able for those? I've got oranges here. I can fix her a glass of orange juice in no time."

      "Oh, wonderful!" said Betty gratefully, her eyes filling with relieved tears again. "I—don't know—what we would—have done if you—hadn't come!"

      "There! Never mind that now. Just drink a little more and then go up to Mother. As soon as she knows about me I can help you care for her. I know how to take care of sick people. And now, shall I just slip out and have that coal sent up? You haven't got enough to last long in those bags, and the house ought to get thoroughly warm and stay so. And while I'm out I'm going to order some groceries. Is that store I went to the best, or is there a better one somewhere else?"

      "That's the best near here. They're all right. Ted will be home by and by perhaps and bring the things up for you."

      "Don't worry about that. I'll find a way," said Marjorie brightly. "Did you tell Father I had come?"

      "Not yet. He seemed so sick. And he was so determined to get that fire started. I'd better run down and see if he is all right now, and while you are gone I'll tell him."

      Betty with her sandwich in her hand went down cellar, and hurried up again.

      "He's eaten all the soup and is eating his sandwich now. I think he feels better. He said he would stay down for a few minutes to be sure the fire was started all right. He had one of those patent lighters, you know, and he wants to be sure the kindling catches. Now, I'm going up to Mother."

      "Well, take this other hot-water bag," said Marjorie, "and I'll wait here at the foot of the stairs a minute to see if there is anything else you want me to get."

      So Betty flew away up the stairs, and back again in a moment.

      "She is still asleep," she whispered. "I laid my hand on her head and she didn't feel quite so hot as before. I think the hot-water bags helped. I slipped the other one in beside her back."

      "Has she had a doctor?" asked Marjorie.

      "No, she wouldn't let us. She said we hadn't the money to pay him. But Father is almost crazy about it. I think we ought to have him come just once, anyway, don't you?"

      "I certainly do!" said Marjorie. "Where is he? I'll get him before I do anything else."

      Betty gave the name and address.

      "He's supposed to be a good doctor.