Our little soldier had his ups and downs, but on the whole he was making steady progress, and his mother was thankful to see his increased thoughtfulness and gentleness. He was not less merry and joyous; he was still the leader of the village sports. But he was learning how to control his mischievous propensities and to restrain his hasty words and actions. Nancy was a great trial to him sometimes. Though the two were ceaselessly involved in arguments and differences, they could not keep apart for long. Nancy's father arrived. Teddy had the privilege of being invited to tea, and of hearing the most wonderful yarns from the big brown-bearded man, who, though outwardly rough in voice and manner, had a very soft corner in his heart for his little daughter.
Teddy listened and admired the sea stories and satisfied Nancy by his evident appreciation. But when he reached home, and was asked about his visit, he said emphatically, "Nancy's father is very nice, but he's nothing like the picture I've got of Father with his red coat and sash and sword. His voice is so gruff and hoarse. He shouts so loud. I shall never, never think sailors are better than soldiers!"
It was after Nancy's father had left, when the bright summer days were beginning to close, that one afternoon Teddy and Nancy were fishing together. At least that was their intention, but anyone seeing them sitting on the low stone bridge over the river, with their lines dangling carelessly in the water, and their merry laughter and voices ringing out continually, would not be surprised if their fishing did not meet with success. At last they clambered down and wandered along the tow-path. Suddenly Nancy drew Teddy's attention to his button.
"Why, it's nearly coming off; you'll lose it!" she cried.
"I told Mother it was getting loose yesterday. She says she is always sewing it on. I think I'll take it right off and put it in my pocket. What would I do if I were to lose it?"
He was jerking at it as he spoke, and it slipped from his grasp and rolled away on the path. It was too great a temptation for Nancy. Like lightning she was after it. A moment later stood upright and exultant, with the button clenched tightly in her little hand.
"Give it to me at once!" demanded Teddy, quivering all over with excitement.
Nancy's brown eyes sparkled with mischief. "Aha, little button-boy, I've got it at last. I shall take it home and have it sewed on my jacket."
"I shall fight you," cried Teddy, "if you don't give it up at once! It isn't yours. You would be a thief if you kept it. Give it to me this minute!"
"Shall I throw it into the river?" questioned the saucy little maiden.
Teddy darted forward, and then began a tussle. He tried to wrench her hands apart. She exerted all her strength to keep them closed. Suddenly, with a triumphant cry from Teddy, as Nancy's fingers were beginning to yield, the button was liberated with such force that it flew violently out. Splash! Into the river it went! Nancy gave a cry, but without a word or sound Teddy plunged in head foremost after it. It was done without a thought. He was a good swimmer, and for a minute Nancy watched him in breathless silence. But when his little head rose out of the water, he seemed half stupefied, and cried out in a weak voice, "Help! I'm drowning!" and then sank again. Nancy set up a shout of frantic agony then. A carter coming over the bridge fortunately heard her, and came to the rescue, not a moment too soon. He threw off his coat and heavy boots, and plunged in just as Teddy's curly head rose for the third and last time. It did not take long to bring him to shore, but he lay in the carter's arms limp and lifeless. Nancy burst into an agony of tears.
"He's dead! He's dead. I've killed him!" she cried.
The carter wasted no time in trying to restore animation to the little frame, but all his efforts were unavailing, and at last he said, "I'll put him in my cart, and drive as fast as I can to the doctor's. It isn't more than a mile off, if he is at home. You go home and fetch his mother as fast as you can."
Nancy raced off, sobbing as she went, and she was in such a state of excitement that when at length she burst open the farmhouse door she seemed to have lost her speech.
Mrs. John saw her face, and started forwards. "It's Teddy!" she cried. "What has happened?"
"He's at—he's going to the doctor's—dead!" she gasped, then fell breathless to the floor. Without a word Mrs. John snatched up a shawl. With white, set face, and lips moving in agonized prayer, she flew along the road to the doctor's. She was shown into the room where the doctor was hard at work. Teddy lay like a waxen image, with the sweetest smile on his lips, his fair curls clustering around his brow. Only an ugly bump amongst the curls told the reason of his sinking under the water again so suddenly.
In breathless silence the mother stood and watched. "Don't give him up, Doctor!" she cried, as at last the doctor straightened himself and paused, looking at the mother sorrowfully. He shook his head, but set to work again, trying artificial respiration, and leaving no effort untried to bring back the life that had apparently departed.
And then there came the moment when his efforts met with success, for placing his hand against the little heart he felt a feeble throb. He redoubled his efforts. The breath began to appear, a faint color tinged the blue lips. At last the heavy eyelids raised, and a faint voice said, "Mother!"
Mrs. John sank on her knees. "Thank God!" was all she said. Then she fainted.
Much later in the evening, Teddy was placed in his own little bed at home. Though alive, his condition was most critical. He lay in a heavy stupor from which it seemed impossible to rouse him. The doctor said he must have struck his head against a stone when first he dived into the river. This had produced concussion of the brain. Nancy had been taken home before he came, but the news was brought to her that he was still alive, though in great danger. That was a great comfort to her poor little sorrowful soul.
For many days he lay between life and death. The inquiries after him from every one of his schoolfellows, the Hall, and the different farms and places around, told his mother how much her little son had been beloved. And when on the following Sunday Mr. Upton gave out, in a faltering voice, "The prayers of this congregation are desired for Edward Platt, who is very dangerously ill," there was not a dry eye in the church. One or two audible sobs came from the boys' seats in the gallery.
Mrs. John never left her boy's bedside-night and day she was by him. Many wondered at her calm peacefulness. After the first great shock, she had been able to hand over her child into her Father's loving hands, and rest content with the result. So she was able, in perhaps the most anxious time of her life, to look up and say, "Father, not my will, but Thine be done."
The days slowly passed and still no change for the better. The doctor came and went with his grave, impenetrable face. Teddy was still unconscious. Then doubts began to rise in his mother's heart as to whether his reason would ever come back. She stopped the doctor as he was leaving one morning to ask him a question. "If he lives, Doctor, will his brain be damaged? My brave, bonny boy!"
And the doctor could only give her the meager consolation, "He may recover yet. I have seen worse cases than this pull through, and be as bright as ever they were."
And then, one afternoon, when the setting sun was flooding the room with a golden glory, the little head turned on the pillow. "Mother!"
The sound of that word, not uttered since she had seen him in the doctor's house that first terrible day, was like the sweetest music in her ear. Stooping over him she met the clear conscious gaze of the blue eyes.
"So tired, Mother! Put your hand under my cheek. Good-night."
The eyelids closed, and the limbs relaxed in healthy sleep. The mother sat down. Though her arm became stiff and weary, not a muscle of it moved.
The doctor came in just before he woke.
"He has spoken. He knew me," she said; and the doctor nodded and smiled. And then a minute later the boy raised his head.
"Where am I, Mother?" he asked feebly.
"In bed, Darling. You have been ill."
"Where's my button?"
"He'll do," said the doctor contentedly. "Keep him quiet, and feed him up."
And the glad news went around the village that Teddy was getting better.
It was a bright day for the farm when Teddy was brought down in a blanket and put in the big easy-chair by the fire. His little face and hands looked very fragile, with the blue veins standing out clearly under the transparent white skin. But his large eyes shone with light and gladness. His mother made him comfortable. Then she left him in his grandmother's charge for a short time. Old Mrs. Platt had had her share of suffering during those sad days. Her heart was wrapped up in the boy. Perhaps the greatest trial of all was to stand aloof, and perform her daily work downstairs, while her daughter-in-law had the sole charge of him.
She came across to the chair now. Kneeling down in front of it, said, with tears in her eyes, as she took his two little hands into hers, "Granny has sadly missed her pickle all this while."
And then Teddy put his little arms around her neck. He hugged her close, crushing her cap in the most reckless fashion as he did so.
"I'm getting better every day, Granny. I love you so much!"
When Mrs. Platt released herself, he went on more soberly, "I feel very tipsy on my legs. I asked Mother to let me walk just now, but I couldn't manage very well. I don't think I shall be able to run fast for a year, shall I?"
"Oh, we'll see you about long before that, please God!"
"And, Granny, you know about my sorrow?"
The blue eyes looked wistful at the thought.
"Yes, Laddie. Don't think of that now."
"I told Mother I didn't want ever to get well when I first talked about it. I felt I couldn't live without my button, but she told me that was wrong. She said it wasn't being a good soldier to wish to die when trouble came, and that if I bore my sorrow well God would be pleased. Do you think I'm bearing it well, Granny?"
"Yes, yes," Mrs. Platt said soothingly. "Look at those lovely flowers and grapes that Mrs. Graham sent to you this morning. Wasn't that kind of her?"
"I don't ever forget it," pursued Teddy, refusing to have the subject changed, "but I thought this morning that God could give it to me again. So I'm going to ask Him every day till it comes. Do you know, Granny, I think He'll give it to me. Only Mother says I must be patient."
Presently he asked, "Could I see Nancy, one day soon?"
"She comes on her way to school every day to ask how you are. Poor little maid! She's taken on dreadful about your illness. She wouldn't eat her food when you were so ill. Her mother got quite anxious about her. We will send for her in a day or two, if you keep well."
And two days after, Nancy appeared. She came up to the big chair very shyly, and looked with awe on Teddy's white, wasted face. Then she cried impulsively, "Oh, Button-boy, will you ever, ever forgive me? If you had died, it would have been me who killed you!"
"No, you wouldn't," said Teddy, putting up his face and kissing her. "I was just as naughty. I shouldn't have tried to fight with you."
"I go to the river every day," Nancy went on sorrowfully, "and Farmer Green brought a big net one day and dragged up a lot of stones and old tin pans, but the button wasn't there. I hope it will be washed ashore one day. So I look along the banks, but I haven't seen a sign of it yet!"
"I'm asking God to give it back to me every day," said Teddy, with a little decided nod. "I think He'll do it. You ask Him too, Nancy, and perhaps He'll do it quicker."
"I've asked God every day to make you better. I promised Him if He would do it I would be the Captain's soldier. Yes, I did. I said I would give up being a sailor, and be just a soldier, like you are."
Nancy made this statement with great solemnity, and Teddy beamed with delight.
"And are you really enlisted?"
"I don't quite know, but I am trying to be good. I ask Jesus to help me every day."
Then there was silence. Nancy sat down on the rug, and took the large tabby cat on her lap.
"Did you think you were going to die?" she asked presently.
"I didn't think anything at all until I woke up, and saw Mother crying over me. Then I felt dreadful tired and ill. I asked her one day where she would bury me, for I was sure I was much too ill to get better. She-well, she smiled, and said God was making me stronger every day. I didn't feel I was better a bit."
"Would you like to have died and gone to heaven?" "Yes," Teddy answered promptly, "of course I would. Wouldn't you?"
Nancy shook her head. "I might if I was quite sure the angel would carry me safely all the way without dropping me, or leaving me in the clouds before we got there. I think I like to live here best. Besides, I don't think I'm good enough to go to heaven yet."
"I don't think it's being good gets us to heaven. Jesus died to let us, you know, like the hymn says Jesus loves me! He who died Heaven's gate to open wide; He will wash away my sin, Let His little child come in.
"Have you asked Him to forgive you, Nancy?" Nancy nodded. "Yes, when you were so ill. I felt I had been so wicked that God was punishing me." Here, reverting to more earthly topics, Nancy held up the cat arrayed in her sailor hat and jacket.
"Look, this is Jack Tar! Doesn't she make a jolly sailor?"
A gleeful, hearty peal of laughter came from Teddy, and was heard in the adjoining room by his grandmother with comfort. She called Mrs. John.
"Hear that, now! Why, he's getting quite himself again. It does him good to have a child to talk to. She must come again."
And this Nancy did, and the roses began to come back to Teddy's cheeks. Others of his playfellows were allowed to come and see him.
Certainly no little invalid could have received greater attention than he did during that time of convalescence. Every day small offerings were presented at the door by the village children. Very diverse were the gifts. Sometimes a bunch of wild flowers. Sometimes birds' eggs, marbles, boxes of chalk, a packet of toffee or barley-sugar, a currant bun, a tin trumpet, a whistle, a jam tart, a penny pistol, and so on. His mother declared she would have to stop taking them in, as they were getting such an accumulation of them.
"And how is my little fellow-soldier?" asked Mr. Upton, as he came in one day for his first visit to the little invalid after being downstairs.
"He'll soon be out of hospital," responded Teddy brightly.
"And is he still fighting for his Captain?"
"I think, Sir, Ipse has been very good while I have been ill."
"He has been lying low, has he? If I mistake not, you will have a brush with him yet before long, so be on the look-out."
And Teddy found the good rector's words come true. Days came when he tried his mother's patience much by his fractiousness and restlessness. He was more often the vanquished than the conqueror.
Even Nancy one day remonstrated with him.
"You are nasty and cross today. No one pleases you."
"I want to get out. I'm tired of this old kitchen." "If you can't get out, you can't. Being cross won't take you out." This logic convinced, but did not comfort. "I expect your Captain won't come near you when you're cross."
And then Teddy burst out crying, "I'm not a soldier at all. I don't know how to stand fire. It's all Ipse. I'm too tired to fight him!"
Poor little soldier! One above took note of the physical weakness and weariness, and in His tenderness pitied and forgave.