Chapter 48.
I think it was about the beginning of February that both my good servants left me. Mable’s sister died and her mother felt she could not do without her at home. On top of this Annie, who had never been strong, was taken so ill that she had to go home. I was in despair, as Somerville had the whooping cough and needed a good deal of extra care, and it was only a month until I expected my cradle to be occupied once more. But my dear mother was always a pillar of strength in these times of distress; she went round-looking for a girl for me and before long had found me our dear Edie. She was a fat, healthy looking child about eleven, with brown eyes and short black hair. How little I thought what a treasure she was to become to us. Our older girl was not so satisfactory. She would not sleep in the house and had a most erratic manner of doing her work. She would prepare the dining room for sweeping, then suddenly remember she had not washed her dishes and make a rush at them, so that the place was generally in confusion. However, she was good tempered and fairly honest and under the circumstances I had to put up with what I could get.
I had arranged for Dorothy and Christopher to go for a month or two to a little school kept by a nice girl, Miss Furby, but between colds and stormy weather, they did not go very many days. It was the 9th March when our little black-haired Helen arrived. “We have got a beauty this time,” said dear Jack as he came to visit me when all was over. How well I remember that night. The baby came about nine o’clock and soon afterwards I heard the children coming home from mother’s and as they passed my door I heard Somerville give a hard, croupy cough. I knew he was in for an attack of bronchitis on top of his whooping-cough. Then someone brought me a bowl of gruel, which was only half cooked, and my bed was not properly made, and I was altogether very uncomfortable. But the morning came at last and with it Dorothy jumping and dancing, and wasn’t she surprised and delighted to find a dear little baby in bed with her mother. During the day I heard the children talking together outside my door and Dorothy said: “I am going to get ‘Line Upon Line’ and read to the baby; you cannot begin these things too soon,” but Christopher replied, with the wisdom of a four-year-old: “Why, she has just come down from heaven and knows a great deal more about it than we do”. Dorothy was silenced, if not convinced, and no more was said about an early religious education.
That night Somerville was very ill with bronchitis and we had a week of very anxious suspense. In addition to the whooping-cough, it made him a very sick boy. On the third day the little baby developed bronchitis too and was very nearly going back to “heaven”, but God was gracious to us and spared both our darlings, to be a comfort and blessing to us in our old age. It was terrible for me to lie there unable to do anything, and I read all the time to keep my mind off the worry of it. Mrs. Covert had lent me the life of John Paton in two volumes, rather small print, and I read it all through, afterwards to find I had injured my eyes and never could see so well again.
We named the little newcomer Avis Euphanel, after Jack’s sister and my great grandmother Euphanel Ferrier, afterwards Euphanel Graham. From a child I had fancied the name and was very pleased at having such a dear little daughter to call by it. However. I was disappointed in this, for my Aunt Helen wrote out begging that she might be called after her and we could not think of distressing her, so Helen was tacked on to her name and Helen she became.
When old Mrs. Gage left us, four or five weeks after Helen arrived, I found myself with quite all I could manage and perhaps a little more. Edie was already proving herself a treasure and was wonderful with the baby, but after all she was only a child of eleven and my older servant was very little use. I have always said it was at that time I first began to drink tea and found immense comfort in it.
I think Helen was six weeks old and such a sweet little baby when one night, about bedtime, we heard the firebells ringing so violently that Jack went out to see what was wrong. He returned saying it was Trinity College School on fire. The College was on a hill beyond Protestant Hill.
He had seen the headmaster, Dr. Lloyd, and told him we could take two or three boys in. We had several cousins at the school, whom we had to tea at intervals, so we were somewhat in touch with the school. Just as we were in bed the bell rang and two boys arrived. We put them into the spare room and went to bed again, but once more the bell rang and two more arrived. The only thing we could do was to lift Dorothy out of her bed and let the boys slide in. Next morning I remember very well: four new members to my family was no joke, and when I had fed them they did not know what to do. It was pouring with rain and they could hardly go out. They teased the little children until I was distracted. Then they found a stray kitten, which they tormented until it had a fit and they decided it must be killed and then buried it. After getting the dinner I was thankful to see it clearing up and they went up to explore the damage done to the school. It had been set on fire by two very bad boys, Americans, and was so badly wrecked that school had to be carried on elsewhere for some time. However, all was arranged before night and my visitors left me.
It was June, I think, when Birdie Ord came to stay with mother. It was a great treat to us all, for we were very isolated; perhaps I was more than the others for I seldom or never went anywhere and no one came to see me. My excitement was a day in Toronto. How I looked forward to my little trips, saving up every penny to spend on the delightful little suits and pinafores and other things to be bought at Eaton’s. Then I generally had a visit with my dear friend Mrs. Irwin—perhaps lunched with her at the same charming place. If possible I saw Lady Robinson too and Juey. Even the train trip was a joy, and I came home quite ready for another six months of cooking and sewing and baby minding. Generally one or more of the children accompanied me and it was a day long to be remembered and talked about.
I went on one of these trips when Helen was seven weeks old, leaving her with my mother, but the perverse little mortal would not taste food for all that long day, and my mother thankfully handed her back to me. It was just about the same time, I think, that she had what might have been a serious accident. It was Sunday afternoon and as the two elder children were at Sunday school I dressed my two babies and took them out in the pleasant April sunshine. Finding I had left my handkerchief, I ran into the house, picked it off the dining room sofa and ran back. I could not have been a minute, but when I came out of the front door again to my horror I saw my carriage wheels up at the side of the road. How frightened I was, but a half smothered cry assured me a little, and with the help of a neighbor who had also come out, we picked up the carriage and found the baby unhurt. Somerville was the culprit, as he had undertaken to run the carriage in my absence. I have always felt the devil had a particular desire to destroy this child of mine. What a comfort it is that God is stronger than he and nothing can happen without His permission.