Stepping Heavenward [40]
It is not pleasant to lose even a portion of one's respect and esteem for another.
The next day mother went to visit an old friend of hers, who has a beautiful place outside of the city. The baby's nurse had ironing to do, so I promised to sit in the nursery till it was finished. Lucy came, with her books, to sit with me. She always follows like my shadow. After a while Mrs. Embury called. I hesitated a little about trusting the child to Lucy's care, for though her prim ways have given her the reputation of being wise beyond her years, I observe that she is apt to get into trouble which a quick-witted child would either avoid or jump out of in a twinkling. However, children are often left to much younger girls, so, with many cautions, I went down, resolving to stay only a few moments.
But I wanted so much to know all about that pretty little friend of Dr. E.'s that I let Mrs. Embury stay on and on, though not a ray of light did I get for my pains At last I heard Lucy's step coming downstairs.
"Cousin Katy," she said, entering the room with her usual propriety, "I was seated by the window, engaged with my studies. and the children were playing about, as usual, when suddenly I heard a shriek, and one of them ran past me, all in a blaze and-"
I believe I pushed her out of my way as I rushed upstairs, for I took it for granted I should meet the little figure all in a blaze, coming to meet me. But I found it wrapped in a blanket, the flames extinguished. Meanwhile, Mrs. Embury had roused the whole house, and everybody came running upstairs.
"Get the doctor, some of you," I cried, clasping the poor little writhing form in my arms.
And then I looked to see which of them it was, and found it was Aunty's pet lamb, everybody's pet lamb, our little loving, gentle Emma.
Dr. Elliott must have come on wings, for I had not time to be impatient for his arrival. He was as tender as a woman with Emma; we cut off and tore off her clothes wherever the fire had touched her, and he dressed the burns with his own hands. He did not speak a word to me, or I to him. This time he did not find it necessary to advise me to control my-self. I was as cold and hard as a stone.
But when poor little Emma's piercing shrieks began to subside, and she came a little under the influence of some soothing drops he had given her at the outset, I began to feel that sensation in the back of my neck that leads to conquest over the most stubborn and the most heroic. I had just time to get Emma into the doctor's arms, and then down I went. I got over it in a minute, and was up again before any one had time to come to the rescue. But Dr. E. gave Emma to Mrs. Embury, who had taken off her things and been crying all the time, and said in a low voice,
"I beg you will now leave the room, and lie down. And do not feel obliged to see me when I visit the child. That annoyance, at least, you should spare yourself."
"No consideration shall make me neglect little Emma," I replied, defiantly.
By this time Mrs. Embury had rocked her to sleep, and she lay, pale and with an air of complete exhaustion, in her arms.
"You must lie down now, Miss Mortimer," Dr. Elliott said, as he rose to go. "I will return in a few hours to see how you both do."
He stood looking at, Emma, but did not go. Then Mrs. Embury asked the question I had not dared to ask.
"Is the poor child in danger?"
"I cannot say; I trust not. Miss Mortimer's presence of mind in extinguishing the flames at once, has, I hope, saved its life."
"It was not my presence of mind, it was Lucy's!" I cried, eagerly. Oh, how I envied her for being the heroine, and for the surprised, delighted smile with which he went and took her hand, saying, "I congratulate you, Lucy! How your mother will rejoice at this!"
I tried to think of nothing but poor little Emma, and of the reward Aunty had had for her kindness to Lucy. But I thought of myself, and how likely it was that under the same circumstances I should have been beside myself, and done nothing. This, and many other emotions, made