Chapter XVII: A Secret Made Known

"MISS DALE, we shall have you ill next. You must go out this fine morning." The doctor was impressed by the smallness and paleness of Pattie's face. He had come late, and for once the nurse had retired, leaving Pattie in charge.

"Not this morning, I think. By-and-by, when nurse can come."

"Not till evening, you mean. But how do you suppose you are going to manage when nurse is gone? You cannot be in the room always. Now that Dot is so much better, other people must take a share in the nursing."

By other people the doctor meant Mrs. Cragg.

"Would it be good for Dot?"

"I don't see why not. Dot only needs to be amused and kept quiet."

Precisely what Mrs. Cragg was not fitted to undertake, thought Pattie; but she could not say so. The doctor would have to find out for himself.

"I don't feel that I want to go out this morning."

"The more reason why you should do so. You are getting used up. Mrs. Cragg"—as she came in—"I am telling Miss Dale that she must take a run early; not spend the whole day in this room. You can arrange it? She's looking tired."

"Pattie has nothing to keep her indoors," declared Mrs. Cragg. "She's only got to please herself."

The expression that crossed the doctor's face was odd, to say the least.

"Can one of the maids take care of Dot?" he asked, bent upon his object.

"We haven't found a new nursemaid yet, and Jane's gone. I can stay, of course. It don't matter what I have to do anywhere else. Dot'll be all right."

"She cannot be left alone," remarked the young doctor.

"I know that."

"Well then, you'd better be off, Miss Dale," said the doctor.

Pattie had to submit. Dot stretched out a small hand.

"Pattie mustn't do. Wants own darling Pattie."

"Pattie will soon come back," the doctor said, holding Dot's hand. "She's going for a little walk."

"And I'll bring you some flowers, Dot," Pattie stooped over the bed.

That made Dot submit for the moment, and she slipped away.

It was a lovely morning; and if Pattie could have felt easy about Dot, left at home in charge of Mrs. Cragg, she would have enjoyed her breath of fresh morning air—not very early air, since it was past eleven, but deliciously fresh. She went at a good pace down the street, intending to take a run to the nearest meadow, on the banks of which, close to a tiny stream, she might hope to find a few wild-flowers. Not many remained now; but it did not take much to satisfy Dot.

On her way she met two or three of Mrs. Cragg's friends, people whom she had often seen and spoken with. Pattie noticed, with a feeling of slight surprise, that they hardly observed her. One of them looked away; one of them gave her a curt nod; one stared her rudely straight in the face. Pattie felt disturbed, wondering what the change of manner might mean. She did not care for any of Mrs. Cragg's friends, and she felt that they did not care for her; still, they had hitherto been civil. Naturally the question came up in her mind—had anything been said to turn them against her?

Pattie slackened her speed, and walked thoughtfully. She knew Mrs. Cragg too well not to know the possibility of this,—even at a time when she was devoting herself to the child, and when Mrs. Cragg might be supposed to owe much to her.

Somebody stopped. Pattie involuntarily stopped too, before looking up, to find herself face to face with Mrs. Smithers. She and Mrs. Smithers had met fairly often, and neither liked the other very much. The chemist's wife wore a look of complacent superiority.

"Good morning," she said. "Tisn't often we see you strolling about this time of day, Pattie."

Mrs. Smithers was given to calling people by their Christian names, with or without leave.

"No. I shall not be out long."

"But you've got a regular nurse in the house."

"Yes. She sleeps in the day, still."

"How is Dot getting on?"

"The doctor says—very nicely."

"Why doesn't he let her be up and about? How long does he mean to keep her lying down?"

Pattie felt annoyed.

"I suppose as longs he sees it to be needed," she said.

"Ah, I don't think much of that young fellow! He's very young, you know. Mrs. Cragg and I think he makes a deal too much fuss. If Dot was allowed to play about, she'd soon be all right."

"I think the doctor is likely to know more about it than you or I,— even if he is young," Pattie observed quietly. "We have not had a doctor's training."

"I hope we've got a grain of commonsense, though!" retorted the other, not pleased. "Well, and so you've taken up with the Craggs, and mean to live with them? It's all a mistake, I suppose, what Mr. Cragg was saying before Dot's accident,—that you wanted to find work?"

Pattie showed some surprise.

"It is no mistake," she said. "Of course I wish to support myself. Just now I could hardly be spared from Dot."

"Oh, as for that—I don't know about the 'sparing!' It isn't much of a question of 'sparing,' I take it. Not but what Mrs. Cragg has been a kind friend to you, I make no doubt; but all the same, it isn't likely she should want to have your father's daughter with her child."

Pattie looked at Mrs. Smithers, with eyes that had a sharp light in them.

"I don't understand."

Mrs. Smithers tossed her head.

"It's nothing so very hard to understand," she said. "Only, you do give yourself an uncommon lot of airs, Pattie; and when one comes to know that your father was turned off from his situation for being light-fingered —why, then, of course—"

"If Mrs. Cragg has told you that—"

"Oh, I didn't say it was Mrs. Cragg. I didn't say it was anybody in particular. But the tale's going about, and folks believe it. It don't matter who said it first. It was somebody that knows. You've been uncommon close about yourself, ever since you came here; but that sort of thing is sure to come out. And it isn't to be wondered at neither that Mrs. Cragg don't like a girl of your stamp to be in the house as one of themselves."

Pattie had grown white, but she did not lose her composure.

"Mrs. Cragg, of course, has told you," she said. "No one else could do so. Mrs. Cragg does know that my father was accused—wrongly accused of what he did not do. Some day the truth will come out, and my dear father's name will be cleared. I did not think that Mrs. Cragg would have done this. But—you of course cannot understand. I would rather not talk any more about it to you, if you please."

Pattie turned away and walked on. She felt like a bruised creature, longing to hide herself.

For a while she could not think of Dot, could not remember anything except that the place now knew of her father's trouble, and that nobody would believe him to be innocent—nobody except Mr. Cragg. It was hard to bear. That Mrs. Cragg should have acted in such an unfeeling way, just when she was doing her utmost, spending all her time and strength on behalf of Dot, seemed almost beyond belief.

Pattie made her way into the meadow, and sat on a fallen log, tears running down her cheeks, and no recollection of flowers in her mind. It was very, very hard. Though not naturally resentful, resentment for once rose high, and she almost felt that she could not go on any longer under the same roof with Mrs. Cragg.

Yet, to leave little Dot to Mrs. Cragg's care; to sheer off, for her own sake only, and not to help Cragg in his difficulty! Impossible!

No; not for her own sake only, but for the sake of her father's good name! That was where Mrs. Cragg's conduct most sharply stung.

Yet what good would it do to her father, if Pattie should yield to bitter feeling, and should tell Mr. Cragg that she could no longer stay and nurse Dot? She would injure her kind friend by so doing, and she might harm dear little Dot; but her father would gain nothing by it.

"No—I'll wait," murmured Pattie. "I'll do what I can for Dot. And some day, surely,—I do believe it,—some day the truth will be known. But I don't see that I should help that forward by leaving my duty now. It isn't a question of pleasing Mrs. Cragg. It is a question of dear little Dot's needs, and of doing what is right."

Then she remembered her promise to take home some flowers, and she went to the bank, plucking as many as she could find. After which she turned homewards.

Not far from the street in which the Craggs lived, as she was passing along a lane between street and hedge, the doctor drove up in his gig. Seeing Pattie, he pulled the rein, stopped, and bent over to speak to her.

"Had a good walk? You don't look much the better for it."

"But I have done as you told me."

"What has happened? Anything unpleasant?"

Pattie hesitated. Should she tell him? He would be certain to hear the tale now spreading through Putworth.

"Eh? What is it?"

"Only—something that was said to me," she replied with difficulty. "Mr. May, if you are told a story about my father, I want you not to believe it, please, too quickly. Not without more proof than you can have from Putworth people."

The doctor nodded. Pattie wondered—had he already heard it? She could have supposed so from his look.

"It is not a true tale. I—know who has started it. There was a great trouble. That was why we left our home and came here. But my father did not do the thing he was accused of. He never could have done it; and if you had known him, you would say the same. If the story gets to you, please ask Mr. Cragg about it. Mr. Cragg knows more than anybody else in Putworth."

"I'll be sure," said the doctor seriously. "You may trust me. And if I were you, Miss Dale, I wouldn't think too much of the chatter of a lot of silly women. It isn't worth your worrying yourself about. Just go your own way bravely, and don't mind. You've been a kind friend to the Craggs, and Mr. Cragg knows it. Other people don't matter."

Pattie smiled; and he gathered up the reins.

"As for Dot, we must consider. You ought to get out more; but I—well, I see the difficulty. Yet Mr. Cragg is anxious not to keep the nurse longer than can be helped. It's an expense, of course."

"I'm ready to do everything I can for Dot."

"I know you are. Wish other folks were as ready, especially those who ought to be doing the most. Well, you won't lose in the end by your kindness. People never do, I believe. I must be off. Good-day, and don't fret."

Pattie went on her way, a good deal cheered. After all, Mrs. Cragg's opinion, and the opinion of Mrs. Smithers, were both unimportant. Things said might be painful; but they should not touch Pattie's peace. And as for her father, he was beyond the reach of any such little earthly gnat-bites.

Another subject took hold of her mind. How had Dot been getting on during her absence? Pattie looked at her watch, and found that she had been fully an hour away. She had meant to stay only half an hour; but busy thought had made time slip by faster than she knew. A whole hour for the little invalid alone with Mrs. Cragg! Pattie quickened her steps.

As she reached and opened the house-door it was the door in the side street through which she and Mrs. Cragg usually went in and out— screams saluted her ears. Screams in Dot's voice. Pattie hurried towards the bedroom, and opened that door also. Mrs. Cragg was standing by the bed, with a medicine-glass in her hand, which she was plainly trying to force Dot to drink from. Dot was resisting with all her little might and main, shrieking indignantly as she fought.

Pattie gave one glance at the bottle on the table, from which, apparently, Mrs. Cragg had poured a portion into the tumbler, and then, ghastly pale, she rushed forward.