Mrs. Larkum's recovery was slow, and it required all the nourishing food
we could provide to start the springs of life working healthfully. Her
mind had dwelt so long upon her bereavement, and dark outlook into the
future that a naturally robust, and well-fed person might have succumbed,
but when to a delicate organization had been added the most meagre fare
possible to support human existence, it was no wonder nature rebelled.
It was a new experience to me, and a very agreeable one, to watch the
pinched faces of the children grow round and rosy, and to hear their
merry laughter.
The mother waited with feverish anxiety for tidings from her father, but
for several weeks no word came; at last she began to fear he might have
died under the strain of the operation. Mrs. Blake began to get anxious
too, while there flitted before her fancy gruesome thoughts as to what
might have been done to the poor body left to the care of those heartless
doctors.
"I can't see why they take such delight in mangling dead people to see
how they are put together. With all their trying they'll never be able
to make a body themselves."
"It is in that way they have learned how to cure diseases and relieve
pain," I assured her. "We ought to be grateful to them for taking so
much trouble to relieve us of our miseries."
"I dare say we'd ought, I never thought of it that way before; in fact
I've been rather sot ag'in doctors. Perhaps if they hadn't cut into dead
folks' eyes, they couldn't have done for the likes of Mr. Bowen."
"Assuredly not; and sometimes the very greatest doctors bequeathe their
own bodies to the dissecting room; especially if they die of some
mysterious disease."
"That is good of them. I've always reckoned doctors a pretty tight lot,
who worked for their money jest the same's the Mill hands."
"No doubt many of them do; but some of them are almost angelic in their
sympathy for the suffering, and their longing to lessen it."
"I believe you can see more goodness in folks than any one I know. Now
when I get cross with folks when they don't do as I think they ought,
what you say comes to my mind; and before I know I get to making excuses,
too. It's done me a sight of good being with you."
"And you have done me good,--taken me out of self, and taught me to think
of others. I do not know how I should have been filling up my vacant
hours but for you."
"I wish somebody would say that much to me," Mrs. Larkum said,
sorrowfully. "I don't think I am any use to any one."
"With these lovely children to care for, what more can you ask than to
work for them?"
"Yes, I forget charity begins at home."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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