Chapter 56.
It was November before I was really able for that is it and then it was decided that I should wait in Toronto for the Thanksgiving meeting, and Jack should meet me there, bringing the two little boys with him. We often came to these Thanksgiving meetings. It was a great treat for the children who accompanied us. Dorothy writes in her little book: “In those days there used to be an all day meeting in Toronto on Thanksgiving Day. There were cheap fares, and we often went down for the day and sometimes, grander still, we stayed from Thursday till Monday with our dear friends the Irwins. The pleasure and thrilling excitement of those trips can scarcely be described. First the journey in the train, usually crowded. Then the arrival in the great gloomy confused station. Then the meetings, which I began to understand better when I was eight or nine. I remember some of the addresses to this day. Once old Mr. Benett, Mrs. Tremaine’s father, spoke on, “I will come in to him and sup with him and he with me”. The wonder and joy of an intimacy with the blessed Lord was so new an idea to me and so precious. Nor did I feel that I possessed it but only ardently desired it. After the meetings there were such crowds and crowds of people, all of whom knew us, though I knew so few of them. There were the dear Irwins, the Gausby’s—Mr. Gausby with his long white beard and his speaking trumpet, Cousin Mim and Cousin Jue, Mr. Morton, Mrs. Job and so many more. Then followed wonderful days of shopping at Eaton’s, and best of all, ‘eating at Eaton’s’.”
I need hardly add to this, but I too remember one particular address. It was by Mr. Baker and he spoke on Enoch. “Enoch walked with God, and he lived three hundred years and begat sons and daughters,” and all through the trials and cares connected with bringing up a family he was walking with God. Violet Irwin illuminated that text, had it framed and sent it down to me. But I have wandered a long way from Lady Robinson’s and my last visit to her.
It was very pleasant and Dorothy enjoyed to the full her hours with Mim’s three little girls. Gwen was about eleven, Julia a fair little image of Sir James was ten, and Hilda, a sparkling black-haired little girl of seven, was pretty as a picture. Lady Robinson took us for some drives and we once dined with Dolly Lightbourne Birdie’s sister, who was then a mother of only one.
But the great event of the visit was my shopping. I had saved about $30 and it was decided that I should buy a new coat and hat. Juey undertook to get me suitable ones and it took more than one day’s shopping. It was in the days of immense sleeves and my coat was quite up to date. Then I had a black felt hat with a wide brim, trimmed, I think, with velvet. Jack declared afterwards that I was the best dressed woman in the meeting, which was a wonderful compliment, as it was usually so far from the case. With $1,500 a year and four children, clothing was a hard thing sometimes to procure.
After my visit to Lady Robinson’s I went for a few days to the Sydney’s. Jack and the boys stayed at old Mr. Hayhoe’s and we came home all together the day after the meeting. I felt much better for my visit and began at once to think of having meetings, but very few children came; it was so far out of their way. I had, I think, about thirty, but my meetings were cut short almost immediately.
It was December 10th, a cold day, everything frozen up but still no snow. I decided to go down the hill that afternoon and do a little Christmas shopping. It was quite an event as I had not walked to town for over a year. At dinner time I mentioned my intention and Jack at once said: “Why walk; I will harness the horse and take you down”. Inwardly I feared that horse, but it seemed foolish to be so nervous and I agreed. We got safely down and I had an enjoyable time buying some little things for the children. Meanwhile Jack had had the horse sharp shod and we met at 4 p.m. as agreed. “I will go to the market first,” said my husband, “and give the horse a drink.” The drinking trough had a pump and as Jack was pumping, the horse caught his bridle on the spout and pulled the bit out of his mouth. In a moment the skittish beast was off. I had the presence of mind to seize the reins, but found the bit was useless.
I hardly remember that mad tear up the hill and across the railway track. I lost my hat but was not conscious of it. The first thing clearly before me is the horse dashing round the corner. I can see now the telephone post and an iron hydrant between which I was pitched. As I went over I felt the greatest peace—no fear, no thought of husband or children, just a feeling, “the work and weariness are over; in another minute I shall be with Christ”. I had always dreaded and feared death, but I never have since, for He Who could so utterly remove fear at one time can do the same again. But the next minute I was painfully picking myself up and Jack was beside me. How he got there so quickly I never could imagine, but fear and love must have given him wings.
I was thrown out just in front of old Dr. Corbett’s, and Jack helped me up the steps to the house, for my head was bleeding profusely. As we rang the bell the doctor’s daughter came out, and as she saw I was fainting, she brought me some wine. Then the young doctor carried me into the office, where I went from one faint into another as they shaved round the two deep cuts and sponged them. When the old doctor came in he decreed that I must be sewn up and put eight stitches in. He told me afterwards I had “splendid grit”, a compliment I have always been proud of. I had need of it certainly, for a night of terrible suffering was before me; concussion of the brain the doctors called it. My suffering was intense and Jack and dear Mother never left me all night. At last Mother ventured to remove the bandage tightly tied around my head and the pain abated a little, but I was bruised and aching all over and it was some days before I could venture up, and many weeks before I was myself again.
As Christmas came on, my mother was very anxious that Dora should go for a visit to Toronto, as after several strenuous months of teaching she needed a little relaxation. She was loath to go and leave me, but someone suggested I should try and get a “lady help” for a month, who would relieve me of the children. Mrs. John Cartwright, who was always so kind and ready to assist anyone, said she knew of just the person, and in due time my sister went and my lady help arrived. She was certainly a most peculiar person. Will Pennington declared she had only one eye, and she certainly was quite devoid of sense. She had the idea that I was out of my mind and it was not necessary to pay attention to anything I told her. Her one idea was to “house clean” and wash. When asked to skim the cream for breakfast, she said she “did it overnight to save time”. At the end of a week I was so nervous and ill that I told Jack I could not have her in the house another day, so he paid her and sent her off. We had a couple of visits from her afterwards and each time she gave more evidence of being insane. This little episode did not tend to restore me to health. My head continued swollen and I had utterly lost both spirit and energy.
Towards the end of January it occurred to Dora that I should go to Bermuda. Maud Cayley had spent the winter before there and it was hoped that such a complete change would once more restore me to health. But who was to go, for I could not go alone? We at once said Mother, for she too was in want of a change, and then someone said, “And take Dorothy, it will be the making of her”. Perhaps my readers know that it does not take long to make up the mind of a Willis. By the end of a week everything was arranged and we were ready to start. My mother shut up her house and with my sister and her two pupils, Queenie Galna and Winifred Cartwright, came over to our house, and Dora was installed as housekeeper and general manager. It was no small task, as the house was very large and we had a large family, counting Will Pennington eight in the dining room besides two in the kitchen. The servants were both young, but our Edie, always a treasure, was a host in herself. She was just fourteen but my sister said afterwards she was the moving spirit in all household arrangements.
To complicate matters, Will Davidson, Jack’s older sister’s eldest son, who had been in Orillia, had just had typhoid fever and came to our house to recover. Thus Dora had two young men on her hands. Aunt Vesie, his mother, also arrived and was there a week or more. Then the two pupils had to have regular lessons, so she had more than her hands full during the ten weeks we were away.