Father’s Girl: A Story

Father's Girl

BY HENRY NICOL ADAMSON

"It's the most provoking thing I have ever known," cried Mrs. Carden as she walked up and down the corridor in restless im- patience, with her eye on the front door all the time "and my ;

very last words to him this morning were, "Be sure you get home early this evening so that we can start for the party in good time in order to get home again in respectable hours." "It begins at eight o'clock," said Helen mournfully. "Here's the cab at the door," said Moira, as the taxi drew up with a jerk; "shall I ask the man to call again later on?" "Certainly not," replied her mother sharply, "why we should have to pay for every second of the time we kept him waiting — your father must just take his chance for once in a way it's his own fault entirely. Put on your cloaks, girls, and we'll be off." "But it's June's evening out, and she went ten minutes ago," Moira reminded her hurriedly. "Well, what if she did?" "There wouldn't be any one here to attend to father, and he's always tired when he's kept late at the office — "He'll find his dinner all ready, and if he'd done as I asked him and come home early he'd have had it hot and comfortable when we did; as things are I'm going out now, and so is Helen; you can please yourself." Moira didn't hesitate a second in making her alternative — "I'll wait for father," she said, turning away from the tempta- tion of the waiting cab, and the prospective party "I'm sure he'd ;

have come if he could, but something must have stopped him." A minute later the front door shut with a bang, there was the whirr-whirr of wheels going swiftly down the street, and Moira found herself alone in the house, and in the words of scripture "disquieted within." She had just given up one of the sweetest — — dreams of girlhood namely, her first dance something she had been eagerly looking forward to for weeks past, to stay at home and see that her father was warmed and fed, and his desires at- tended to, as something deep down in the girl's nature told her he deserved. She loved dancing, but she loved her father more, and she could not shut her eyes any longer to the fact that he was the least considered member of the household. She had been dimly cog- nizant of this almost all her life, but he had so cheerfully set aside

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his own comfort and tastes and convenience for those of his wife and children, that they had grown into the habit of accepting the position as the right and natural one, until gradually no one seemed to consider him at all, except as the source from which money was extracted, or as the means which stood between his family and the troubles and storms of life. "He's so unselfish that they don't seem to think he minds being neglected," she mused to herself as she put his slippers by the fire, and hung his house-coat over a chair to warm, "but he's quicker than anyone else to notice and say 'thank you' for anything one does for him. The worst of unselfish people is that living with — them sometimes makes others selfish I wonder whether there was ever a time when mother was different about him I wonder !

when they were both young before they were married if she'd have noticed if he had a cough, or looked tired, or wasn't hungry like this morning, when he didn't eat any breakfast? Here he is at last — — not so very late after all why, father," she began with a — smile as she opened the front door "I began to think ; " then stopped suddenly as she found herself face to face with someone she had never seen before, and her sentence ended with "I beg — your pardon —— I

"You are Miss Carden?" inquired the stranger. "Yes," she replied rather breathlessly, "is — — thought I it was my father " '

"I have come from him with a message," continued the stranger, looking into the girl's pretty face with a grave pity in his eyes, which made her heart suddenly throb and contract with fear of she knew not what. "Something has happened be oh — — !

— he isn't dead? tell me," she gasped paling to the color of her white dress. "He is not dead," was the answer, "and is on his way home — now in fact, will be here almost immediately, but he met with an accident this evening, and he is rather troubled about being late for some engagement or other — " looking again at the slender swaying figure in its becoming party gown. "Oh, don't, don't," she cried in hurried pain, as she caught the look and was filled with the loathing for such a hideous frivolity as a dance, which comes to most people who suddenly find themselves faced with mental or physical anguish, "that was less than nothing — all that matters is whether— whether he is hurt — badly or not — and how long it will be before he is here "All accidents are more or less serious," was. the guarded reply, "especially to people over fifty years of age. Your father had just left the office and was hurrying across the street to the station when he was knocked down by a cab and for a short time was unconscious. I am a doctor, and happened to be passing at that moment, so was able to attend to his injuries at once. I

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wanted to take him to a hospital, but he seemed anxious to come home, and so I brought him here myself in my car, which is wait- ing at the turn of the street until I have broken the news to his family. Is your mother — — "She is out everyone is out except me," was the agonized reply. "I will get the room ready while you bring him — — oh my !

dear, dear father "You must be Moira ?" said the doctor, pausing before he set out on his sad errand. "Yes, I am Moira," hurriedly, "but how did you know? did he—" "He said 'maybe everybody'll be out, but perhaps Moira'll — have waited for me she's 'father's girl.' If I were in your place, Miss Moira, I'd rather have those few words said about me than feel the crown of a king on my brow — there'll come a day later on when they'll prove of infinitely higher value."

— "Into this room, please it's quieter than the front one," di- rected Moira to the men who carried the hand ambulance upstairs, and Dr. Goodenough noticed with keenly approving eyes what splendid use the girl had made of the short time he had given her for the reception of the injured man. The gay dress and slippers had given place to a plain serge and noiseless shoes, a fire burning cheerily in the stove had evidently been transplanted bodily from downstairs, half-a-dozen clean towels were in readiness on the rack, hot water filled the basin, while Moira, though pale as marble herself, was deft and quiet as a trained nurse, in all her move- ments and words. Her father evidently recognized her, in spite of his apparent unconsciousness, for when she stooped down and kissed him his eyelids lifted for the briefest possible time, and the faintest of smiles flitted across the marble face as he muttered "Father's girl—that's Moira." "There he's fairly comfortable now," said the doctor after !

his ministrations were ended for the time being, "and I'll look in — again later on in the meantime how can I best serve you, Miss Moira— just tell me and I'll do it." She flushed and hesitated before speaking, and he continued "For instance, I can't leave you here alone with anyone in the serious condition of your father — shall I send in outside help, or — telegraph for relatives to come and bear you company, or didn't I understand that there are other members of the family who are — out at some festivity which your father also hoped to go to ? "If you would be so good as to break the news to my mother and sister," she faltered, "I should always be grateful to you — had no one to send just at first and thought that June, our servant,

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would be returning every moment, but you could go so quickly in the car — "And return quickly, too," he added with a nod of the head "that's all right — yes I know it," as she mentioned the hall at !

which the party was taking place, "it will be a half-hour run there and back, with say five minutes in which to tell my errand. You'll be all right for that time, and I'll bring them back myself it's — ten now, so expect us soon after the half-hour." Dr. Goodenough reached the Apollo hall just as the sets for the cotillion were being formed, and when he went up to the Gardens, Helen greeted him as a new admirer and would-be part- ner, holding out her card and saying with a laugh "Certainly, with pleasure, if you can find a free space on it, if not you can have the first extra — "I come dance," he replied gravely, "my errand isn't didn't half so pleasant— the — to fact is "So sorry — must go now, my partner impatient," she is inter- rupted. "Stop just a second," he cried, laying a detaining touch on her arm. "I came to tell you that your father is not at all well in fact—" "I know," she grinned back as she swung off on her partner's — arm, "he hates dances and any excuse is better than none see — — you later He turned abruptly to her mother who was sitting on a green velvet lounge seat in the corridor just outside the dancing room, and said "Your husband has met with an accident which prevented his returning home this evening — "Well, it's his loss, not mine," she replied carelessly, "if he'd known that there was a special room for old-fashioned whist, he'd — have been in time I'll guarantee I do think that Helen dances the cotillion better than anyone else in the room," with sudden enthu- siasm as she caught a view of her daughter in her partner's arms appear for a second in the opening, "just watch her for a mo- ment — "Madam," he said in his sternest tones, "you evidently did not realize what I came here to tell you —your husband hasalone met with an accident — am I a doctor— your daughter Moira is with him the house counting the very moments you return home — in until

Mrs. Carden stared at the speaker, rose to her feet, and turned quite pale "Not really?" she gasped; "what shall I do? it isn't serious, — is it? — mean — I "It is serious, and you must make your daughter return home with you at once —

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"She's dancing the cotillion— right in the centre of the room," helplessly, — "how can I attract her attention do you really mean that we must go at once ?" If it hadn't been for the memory of Moira, most certainly the doctor would have left that moment. Never, never had he felt so disgusted or angry with anyone as he did with this exasperating, pleasure-lover and her daughter, though he quite realized that heartlessness had less to do with the delay than gross stupidity. "I will wait five minutes," he replied, taking out his watch, the hands of which pointed to half-past ten o'clock. "I told Moira that we should have returned to her by this time. Your husband is badly hurt, perhaps fatally; if his death doesn't mean anything

else to you than lessened income, surely that's more important than a few items on a party program — — "Oh!" with a terrified gasp, "I didn't understand he has — — never been ill in his life he is very strong he's the kind of man who — who— "Who goes on until he drops, then dies in the harness," fin- ished the doctor grimly "don't you know that it's the creaking ;

hinge that lasts longest, and the silent one that collapses without warning?" Five minutes later they started on their homeward way, per- turbed, anxious, and annoyed, asking aimless questions, without waiting for the answers, and changing between a suspicion that the summons originated in an unjustifiable attempt to spoil their evening's amusement, and a lurking dread lest something really had happened which would alter the whole course of their lives. Helen wasn't actually cruel or heartless, but only a shallow, vain girl devoted to trifling of any kind, and almost unable to understand the sadder side of life. Mrs. Carden had promised better in youth than age had fulfilled — once upon a time she had been a bright, affectionate girl with a certain physical resemblance to Moira, but without the deeper nature of her daughter. Her virtues had, however, become gradually buried under a cloak of selfishness, while her faults had assumed formidable proportions. Now as the car bore her swiftly home, the good and evil that were in her warred fiercely together. "Whatever shall we do, mother, if he doesn't get better?" whispered Helen in her ear, "we haven't enough money without father's salary to live as we do, have we?" "That we haven't," was the emphatic reply, "at least, unless — your father pretended to be poorer than he is only yesterday he declared to me that he was really not so well off now as he was at the time of our marriage ; — if that is true

— "But it isn't it can't be," broke in Helen in shrill alarm, "men always talk as if they were poor, when they have lots of money all the time, don't they?"

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The car drew up at the gate and they alighted from it and entered the house, going straight upstairs to the sick room to assure themselves first that there was nothing really the matter with "father," and that they had been unnecessarily alarmed. The first glance at the still, white form on the bed sent their hearts to their shoes — Helen ran away crying, while Mrs. Carden fell on her knees by the bedside and some of the cold ice of indif- ference and selfishness melted from her heart in scalding tears as she saw again the lover of her youth and the husband she had neg- lected, lying senseless before her. "Lionel," she whispered, "only get well again and Til be a better wife to you, I will indeed — we're young enough yet to have — many happy years together try to live, Lionel, for my sake." "Miss Moira, you are a born nurse," the doctor was saying outside in the corridor. "One wants the woman as well as the machine for the perfect nurse, who like a genius must be born and cannot be made." "Oh," replied the girl with a shimmer of unshed tears in her starry eyes, "love can make anyone into a good nurse — I love my father dearly — — dearly- and so nothing could be a trouble, but just a pleasure that I could do for him — — I could not forget instructions, — — or be noisy, or or tired I am no nurse really, only ;

"Yes that's it," agreed the doctor, nodding his head in ap- !

proval, "you've hit it first time, little girl — love that makes the world go round, is also the first essential for a good nurse. Wc get them sometimes — — not often by any means but sometimes, when they don't take it up just as a profession, but merely follow the vocation God meant them for — first find the good heart; add

to it the clear brain, education, and the steady hand, and you've — found your ideal nurse and I've found mine," he added in a low tone as he turned away, "go back to him now, Moira I'll look in ;

early in the morning and — — I should like you to sit with him

yourself tonight."

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It was a full week before Lionel Carden was out of danger, and during that time the little household was shaken from the rut into which it had fallen, into a different road altogether. Helen had suddenly awakened to the knowledge of what a hideous loss

she would personally sustain if her father died. He had seemed as firm a fixture as the house itself or the church standing opposite — his purse had automatically supplied all wants since the day of — her birth. Food, shelter, clothing, education, amusements and she had foolishly concluded that things would go on in the same way for ever — or made the brilliant marriage at least until she which instinct (in other words, vanity) had always assured her would certainly happen. Now she felt like a butterfly caught in — the first chill of winter if her father died she would suddenly

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find herself removed from the glow of sunshine to the dark cold of the seamy side of life. Nothing terrified her more than the complete change which had come over her mother during those anxious days. Hitherto sh had always been the petted darling, whose every whim must be fulfilled, and if her father objected to any of them, her mother speedily took up the cudgels on her behalf and reduced him to a proper state of subjection. Now if she hazarded a desire for some present or future privilege, she was sharply silenced with "Do try and forget yourself for once in a way, Helen you seem to have forgotten how ill your poor father is." — "But, mother," she insisted one morning when her father was well on the road to recovery, and it seemed to her that her mother was unusually dense at grasping the situation, "it's just now that I want the new dress for Dr. Goodenough comes twice a day and he's a nice fellow, you know — belongs to a first-rate family, keeps his own car, has private means, and is regarded as quite one of the coming men. Rose Anderson told me yesterday that everyone — was noticing how attentive he is and really seeing how unpro- vided for we should be if anything did happen to father, and I shall always feel uneasy after that accident, I think you ought to do all in your power to help me to get well settled in life." — Mrs. Carden looked quite bewildered "But Helen," she pro- tested, "I've never seen him pay you the least attention — he really seems one of those enthusiasts one reads of sometimes, who fight for a patient's life like a soldier does for his flag— I'm sure your father would have died except for Dr. Goodenough's unceasing care, and — no money could ever repay him for it — "You're not as sharp as usual, mother mine," laughed Helen complacently, "he really fell in love with me the first time he saw — — me at the party I saw it in his eyes and he's simply lived here ever since. Doctors don't usually supply their patients' houses with fruit and flowers and game, and father is almost well again — now, yet Dr. Goodenough comes just as often and I declare here !

he is coming in at the gate now, with father leaning on his arm doesn't that speak more plainly than words?" archly as she hurried to the door to meet them. "That you, Helen?" called out Lionel Carden briskly as she hove in sight, "where's your mother? I've some good news to tell — her first-rate news," with a chuckle. Helen's heart fluttered with a wild hope. Could he have de- clared his intention to her father in the real old-fashioned way. "I'll go to the drawing-room and see if mother is there," she replied, artfully throwing an inviting glance with her eyes to the doctor to follow, but almost before she was out of sight Moira came in from the back garden, her hands full of flowers and a glad look in her eyes

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"How good of you to come back with him yourself; where did you meet him?" she exclaimed, "he almost looks himself again today, doesn't he? Why, where has he disappeared to just when I was going to pin this buttonhole in his coat?" "Pin it in mine instead," laughed the doctor suddenly putting out his arms and drawing her close to his heart "Moira, dearest, I waylaid your father purposely this morn- — ing and asked him to give me a life for a life yours for his, which I think I saved, for he very nearly crossed the divide at one time.

He gave his consent at once, so if you'll be my dear little wife I shall be the happiest man in the whole world. You do care for me just a little, don't you, Moira?"

She nestled close in his arms and sighed in blissful content as she replied "With my whole heart and soul."

THE SEGO LILY The State Flower of Utah