The Cinder Pond by Carroll Watson Rankin

Author:Carroll Watson Rankin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781620125496
Publisher: Duke Classics

Chapter XV - Allen Rossiter

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In November there came a day when nobody in the Huntington house spoke above a whisper. There was a trained nurse in the house, three very solemn doctors coming and going, and an air of everybody waiting for something.

James told Maggie, and Maggie told Jeanne, that old Mr. Huntington had had a stroke.

"Is my grandfather going to die?" asked Jeannette, when Maggie had patiently explained the serious nature of Mr. Huntington's sudden illness.

"I don't know," returned Maggie. "Nobody knows, not even the doctors."

For a great many dreary days, her grandfather remained "Just the same," until Jeanne considered those three words the most hateful ones in the English tongue. Then, one memorable morning—years later, it seemed—she heard Dr. Duncan say, on his way out: "A decided change for the better, Mrs. Huntington."

Jeanne was so glad that she danced a little jig with her friend in the mirror. Often, after that, she waylaid the pleasant white-capped nurse to ask about the invalid; but Miss Raymond's one response was "Nicely, my dear, nicely." For weeks and weeks, Jeanne saw nothing of her grandfather; consequently, her mathematics became very bad indeed. But at last, one Sunday morning, the nurse summoned her to her grandfather's room.

"Your grandfather wants to see you," said Miss Raymond. "You must be very quiet and not stay too long—just five minutes."

Five minutes were enough! There was a strange, wrinkled old man, who looked small and shriveled in that big white bed. Her grandfather's eyes had been keen and bright. The eyes of this stranger were dull, sunken, and oh, so tired.

"How do you do?" said Jeanne, primly. "I'm—I'm sorry you've been sick."

"Better now—I'm better now," quavered a strange voice. "How is the arithmetic?"

"Very bad," said Jeanne. "Miss Turner says I plastered a room with two bushels of oats, and measured a barn for an acre of carpet, instead of getting the right number of apples from an orchard. You have to do so many kinds of work in examples, that it's hard to remember whether you're a farmer or a paperhanger. I suppose wet things would run out of a bushel basket, but wet measure and dry measure get all mixed up—"

"I think your grandfather is asleep," said the nurse, gently. "You may come again tomorrow."

As Mr. Huntington improved, Jeanne's visits grew longer. After a time, he was able to help her again with her lessons. But all that winter, the old man sat in his own room. In February the nurse departed and James took her place. James, who had lived with the family for many years, was fond of Mr. Huntington and served him devotedly. As before, Jeannette spent much time with her grandfather. Also, in obedience to their mother's wishes, the young Huntingtons entered the old man's room, decorously, once a day to say good morning. Neither the children nor Mr. Huntington appeared to enjoy these brief, daily visits. Jeanne was certainly a more considerate visitor. She was ever ready to move his

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