Chapter XVI: Not Worth Bothering About

ONE afternoon, on Ann and Violet's return from school, they found Dr. Elizabeth Ridgeway in the drawing-room with Mrs. Reed, having tea. Dr. Elizabeth smiled as she observed the expression of astonishment which flitted across Violet's face at sight of her, and she said with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes:—

"I suppose it is rather wonderful to find me sipping tea in a leisurely fashion at this hour; but I'm as fond of my tea as most women, I think, though I'm generally obliged to forego the luxury of dawdling over it. Well, my dears, how are you?"

Both girls declared themselves very well. They were pleased to see Dr. Elizabeth, and their countenances plainly denoted the fact. Mrs. Reed gave them their tea, and, whilst they were drinking it, Dr. Elizabeth told Violet that she had heard of her father's appointment, and mentioned the paper in which she had seen it announced, adding that Mr. Wyndham's capabilities were spoken of in most eulogistic terms.

"Oh, how glad I am to hear that!" Violet cried, her face lighting up with a smile of intense gratification.

"Dr. Elizabeth has saved the paper for you, my dear," said Mrs. Reed; "she is going to send it to you. You will like to have it, will you not?"

"Indeed I shall," Violet replied. "Thank you, Dr. Elizabeth."

"I should have brought it with me had I known I was coming here when I started from home this afternoon," remarked Dr. Elizabeth; "but I did not anticipate that I should be anywhere in this direction. My first visit was to poor Malvina Medland who has been in bed for the past fortnight—"

"Oh, we did not know that," interposed Ann, in accents of much concern; "excuse my having interrupted you, Dr. Elizabeth," she continued hurriedly, "I hope Malvina is not very ill?"

"She is not dangerously ill, but she is in great pain, and much troubled about her sister, who has been causing her and her mother a great deal of anxiety again."

"Do you mean that Lottie has been betting?" questioned Violet.

"I do."

"Oh, dear," sighed Ann; "we quite thought she had given up that altogether. You spoke to her about it, did you not, Dr. Elizabeth?"

"Yes. I had a very serious talk with her and pointed out the misery her conduct would bring about if she persisted in it; she appeared to see it all and promised me not to act so foolishly and wickedly in the future. It seems that she really kept her word for some weeks, but during the last month or so she has been betting again, with the result that she has squandered most of her earnings. And now Malvina is so ill that she is unable to do anything, and consequently they are dependent upon Mrs. Medland's wages for their daily bread. Poor Malvina! Her sufferings are very great at times; she is obliged to lie in bed altogether to rest her back. I feel great sympathy for her, and for Mrs. Medland too; they are in a sorry plight, and my visit to Mrs. Reed this afternoon is really to ask her to help them. I want her to go and see Malvina."

"Of course she will!" Ann exclaimed, with certainty in her tone.

"Yes," Mrs. Reed assented readily, "I am going to-morrow, and cook shall make some nice, strong beef tea for the poor girl. I have been wondering why she has not sent back the last lot of needlework I gave her to do; I had no idea that she was laid up again."

"Do you think she is too ill to see Violet and me?" asked Ann.

"On the contrary, I believe a visit from you young folks would do her a lot of good," Dr. Elizabeth replied; "she is certainly better than she was a few days ago, but every attack of illness she has weakens her so greatly that she never quite regains the amount of strength she had before."

"We will go to see her on Saturday," Ann declared decidedly; "won't we, Violet? You will come with me, I know."

"Yes," Violet agreed, somewhat reluctantly, for she shrank from witnessing suffering, and Dr. Elizabeth had given them to understand that Malvina was in great pain.

"I think it's shocking about Lottie," said Ann; "whatever will become of her, Dr. Elizabeth?"

"I cannot say," the lady doctor answered sadly; "the girl's head seems quite turned by this gambling mania. I fear she is under the influence of bad companions, judging from all accounts; her occupation brings her in contact with those who you may depend do their utmost to lead her astray. Next to drink, betting is the greatest curse in England, especially in large towns like this where bookmakers have their agents everywhere. Do, you two young people, go and see Malvina by all means, you'll find her wonderfully cheerful considering the circumstances of her lot; there's a brave Christian soul in that misshapen body of hers, and she bears her cross without complaint."

Thus it came about that the following Saturday morning, about eleven o'clock, found Ann and Violet standing at the door of the house where the Medlands lived, waiting for an answer to the former's knock. Presently the door was opened by a girl, who might have been any age from twelve to sixteen, clad in a neat print gown and a big apron. She had a slight, childish figure, and a face which looked prematurely old; and she held a hat in her hand as though she was about to put it on to go out.

"We have come to see Malvina Medland, if you please," said Ann, as she surveyed the trim little body before her, wondering who she could be; "we know she is ill, but I think she might like to see us."

"Please, miss, are you Dr. Reed's daughter?" questioned the small person, her shrewd eyes fixed on Ann's face.

"Yes," assented Ann, with the smile of good-will which few people were able to withstand.

"Then will you please to go straight upstairs. Dr. Elizabeth told me you'd most likely be here to-day, and Malvina's expecting you. 'Grace,' said she to me, 'I've visitors coming, two young ladies as I had tea with once.' She'd have been dreadfully disappointed, I can tell you, if you hadn't come."

"I suppose you are a neighbour?" questioned Ann.

"No, miss. I live in another street—ten minutes' walk from here. Dr. Elizabeth's engaged me for an hour every morning and every afternoon to see to Malvina whilst she's ill; I'm not a sick-nurse by profession, but I can turn my hand anyway, and I'd do almost anything to oblige Dr. Elizabeth. Well, I must be off, now."

"But do you leave Malvina in bed with the street door unlocked?" asked Violet, aghast at the idea.

"Dear me, yes, miss. I don't suppose the street door is ever locked, for that matter; you know there are other families living in the house besides the Medlands. Bless you, Malvina won't come to any harm, and there's nothing much for anyone to steal. Go straight upstairs, you'll find Malvina ready to receive you."

So saying the small person stepped out into the street, and, placing her hat on her head, marched off. She walked with remarkably long steps for her size, and she never looked back. Ann and Violet watched her out of sight, then they exchanged amused glances and laughed, and the former said:—

"Why, Vi, depend upon it that is the little girl of whom Dr. Elizabeth spoke so highly, the one who goes out charing, you know."

"I expect so," replied Violet; "what a funny little creature she is!"

Entering the house they closed the street door behind them, then went up the steep stairs and stopped on the first landing.

"This way, please!" cried a feeble voice, which they recognised as Malvina's, "I'm in here."

"In here" proved to be a little back room, not much larger than a good-sized cupboard, with a bed in one corner, on which the sick girl lay. She received her visitors with a bright, welcoming smile, and assured them, in answer to their sympathetic inquiries, that she was really better.

"It's so kind of you to come," she said, gratefully. "Dr. Elizabeth said she thought you would, and your mother, Miss Ann, told me when she was here yesterday that you meant to come. I am so very glad to see you. Please to sit down."

There was but one chair in the room, and that a very ricketty one. Ann motioned to Violet to take it, whilst she perched herself on the edge of the bed and presented Malvina with a bunch of roses which she had brought for her, knowing her love for flowers.

"They came all the way from Devonshire, packed in damp moss," she explained, as Malvina took the nosegay with a cry of mingled admiration and delight, "and they grew in my grandmother's garden. Look at this white rose bud; is it not perfect? Granny will be so pleased when I write and tell her I gave the roses to you—the first roses of summer, I think they must be. I'm glad you like them, I can see that you do. Aren't they wonderfully fresh considering they have made such a long journey? They arrived by parcel post this morning, and, though they were a little drooping then, after they had been in water an hour they had quite revived."

"They are lovely," said Malvina, earnestly, "and their scent—oh, it's delicious! How good of you to give them to me!"

Whilst Ann continued to talk to Malvina, telling her the names of the roses and drawing her a word-picture of old Mrs. Reed's sea-side home, Violet was making good use of her eyes. What a poor room it was! Excepting the bed and the one chair there was no real furniture. An upturned box served for a wash-hand stand; there was no dressing-table, no set of drawers, no looking-glass. A pang of pity shot through Violet's heart mingled with a sense of shame. How often had she grumbled at the bedroom at home which she and Ruth had shared, and yet how comfortable it had been in comparison to this bare room! She was beginning to realise what it really meant to be poor.

By-and-by Violet turned her attention to her companions again. Malvina's eyes were still feasting on the roses, and there was a smile hovering around her lips—yes, actually a happy smile; and yet she had scarcely slept throughout the night on account of the pain which had racked her feeble frame.

"There's not a lady in the land better looked after than I am now I'm ill," she declared; "I've everything I want. Your mother brought me such nice, strengthening things to eat, Miss Ann; I've just had a cup of beef tea, which Grace Jones warmed for me. It's done me a lot of good."

"Is Grace Jones the girl we saw at the door?" inquired Ann.

"Yes, miss. Dr. Elizabeth's paying her for looking after me a bit; she generally comes for an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon, but she won't be here this afternoon because, as you know, the factories shut early on Saturdays, and mother will be at home to bear me company."

"You have been in bed a fortnight, haven't you?" said Violet.

"Yes, miss; but I hope to be about again soon. Dr. Elizabeth says I must have patience, for if I worry it keeps me from getting better."

"I daresay it does. I expect you have been having a very dull time, haven't you?"

"No, miss. I daresay this room strikes you as being dull, but I don't find it so. You see the window faces the east and I get the morning sun, which is a great blessing; and the sparrows are fine company, they wake up so early. I do love sparrows. Many a morning this past fortnight I've lain awake, in pain, listening to them, and you can't think how happy it's made me, and how it's comforted me to hear them twittering —I daresay you can guess why?"

"No," Violet answered, shaking her head.

"I think I can," Ann said softly, "they remind you of what our Saviour said about them, is it not so?"

"Yes," nodded Malvina, "I like to remember how He said, 'Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings and not one of them is forgotten before God.' And then I think if God is caring for them He is caring for me."

"To be sure," agreed Ann. "He cares for all of us, even if we do wrong and forget Him. Father told me the other day of a grand old soldier who, before he went into battle, always used to pray, 'Lord, if I forget Thee, do not Thou forget me.' I like that prayer, don't you?"

"Yes, indeed," rejoined the sick girl. A slight shadow had crossed her face, and now she said falteringly, "Oh, Miss Ann, I think my poor sister Lottie is one of those who have forgotten God. She has taken to betting again."

"Yes, Malvina, we know," Ann answered sadly, "and we are so very, very grieved."

"She's clean off her head, it seems to me, and I don't know what will be the end of her—it makes me shudder to think. I thought she had turned over a new leaf and was going to be a good, steady girl, she certainly gave up betting for the time; but now she's as bad about it as she was before. She's growing reckless and takes no notice of anything mother says—but, hush, here's mother!"

The door opened to admit a pale, weary-looking woman, whose face, however, brightened with a smile at the sight of her daughter's visitors. She thanked Ann and Violet most gratefully for having come to see Malvina, and admired the beautiful, Devonshire roses.

"Malvina's so fond of flowers," she said, "you couldn't have brought her any present she would like better, Miss Ann."

Not long after that Violet and Ann said good-bye to the invalid, and followed Mrs. Medland downstairs. They lingered for a few minutes talking with her in the kitchen, then started for home. Both girls were silent at first, their minds occupied with their own thoughts, but by-and-by Ann touched Violet on the arm and whispered:—

"There is Lottie Medland looking into the window of that newspaper shop."

Violet followed the direction of Ann's gaze and recognised Lottie, who was standing on tip-toes, endeavouring to look over the shoulders of a small crowd, comprised of men and women of all ages, congregated outside the shop in question.

"She is trying to read the telegram posted up against the window," said Ann; "oh, Violet, isn't it sad?"

"Sad?" echoed Violet, in astonishment; "why?"

"Because, for certain it's a telegram about some horse race or other."

Violet looked more scrutinisingly at the crowd, some members of which appeared exultant, others downcast, and then she saw Lottie Medland turn sharply away, with an expression of disappointment on her countenance, and join a girl of about her own age with whom she walked off—not homewards, however, but in the opposite direction. For some distance the two kept ahead of Violet and Ann, but by-and-by they disappeared into a dirty-looking shop, in the windows of which second-hand jewellery and clothing were exhibited for sale.

"It is a pawn shop," said Ann, as she and Violet passed by; "oh, poor Lottie, has it come to this with her! Oh, poor, poor girl!"

"She must have fallen very low," said Violet, in a tone of great disgust. "Come, Ann!" she exclaimed, rather impatiently, as her companion seemed inclined to linger, "you are not thinking of waiting to speak to her, surely! Let us go home. Such a wicked girl is not worth bothering about!"

"Oh, Violet, don't say that!"

There was grief and reproach in Ann's voice, and her eyes were full of tears. Violet had never seen her so moved before, and she gazed at her in astonishment. Why should she be so upset on account of this foolish, headstrong girl? Violet had never felt that love for humanity at large which springs from a love of God, and, though she was sorry for Mrs. Medland and Malvina in their trouble about Lottie, she certainly had but little if any sympathy for Lottie herself.

"What have I said that you should look so hurt and speak to me so reproachfully?" she asked, as they quickened their footsteps.

"You said Lottie was not worth bothering about. Oh, Violet, father was right when he said that we must not be too hard on her—I know I was inclined to be hard on her, myself. We don't know what her temptations have been; perhaps we should do as she does if we were in her place; we might forget God, too. But He won't forget her, if she has forgotten Him; He cares for her, and, oh, don't ever say she isn't worth bothering about again."

"I won't," Violet answered, her cheeks crimsoning at this rebuke, though it had been gently spoken; "I am ashamed I said it, I am indeed."