'Smiles': A Rose of the CumberlandsRobinson, Eliot H. (Eliot Harlow)
General
'Smiles': A Rose of the Cumberlands
Robinson, Eliot H. (Eliot Harlow)
Cumberland Mountains -- Fiction
A light of recognition sprang into the child's eyes, she stood up a
trifle unsteadily, and said, with a low throaty laugh of delight, "Hit
air my Smiles. I awful glad ter see...." She started toward her friend;
but her course suddenly veered to the left, waveringly, and her
wandering gaze fell upon the now sadly battered doll lying in one
corner. "To see ye, Mike," was the ending of her sentence, as she
trotted to Donald's gift and began to cuddle it.
"Yo' haint erbeen ter see Lou fer er long, long ..." The piping voice
trailed off into silence.
"Why, Lou, sweetheart. What is the matter? Don't you know your own
Smiles?" pleaded the deeply distressed girl, as she gathered the child
to her breast.
The baby's hands dropped the doll unceremoniously and sought her
friend's cheeks. Looking up with big eyes into the face drawn close to
her own, she replied in a strangely slow, hesitant manner. "In course I
remembers ye, Smiles. Yo' air the nurse what lives with ... with thet
thar doctor man ... in the big city, whar air monkeys thet ... clumb
sticks an' ... an' doll babies what close thar eyes ... an' say ... an'
say ... My head hurts me, Smiles, hit do."
She lay still in the loving arms for an instant, and then wriggled free
and, sliding to the floor, picked up and began to rock the doll again,
the while crooning a wordless lullaby.
With anxiety growing akin to terror, Smiles felt the irregular pulse, as
Donald had taught her how to do, and pressed her hand to the pale cheek
and forehead.
"She _is_ sick, Judd, and I'm kind of frightened, too. You can't take
care of her here, and I mean to take her home with me, right now. I
reckon you had better go down to the village and get Dr. Johnston,
quick."
The man had started, with words of protest trembling on his lips; but,
as his look turned on his little sister, as she now leaned drowsily
against the girl's knees, he stifled them unspoken, while a spasm of
pain crossed his worn face. With a dull nod of acquiescence he held out
his arms to receive the child, whom Rose had lifted and wrapped in a
blanket from her little bed that had been brought in near the fire.
The return journey was quickly and silently made, and, delivering the
slight bundle to Smiles when her cabin was reached, Judd set off into
the night, concern lending wings to his feet.
"Grandpap, hit's Smiles back ergin'," called the girl softly. "An' I've
brought leetle Lou Amos. She haint feelin' right well, an' I allows I
hev got ter take keer of her here."
The old man uttered a low growl of protest, which caused Rose to run to
him and tenderly lay her hand on his lips, with the words, "Hush,
grandpap. The baby haint in nowise ter blame fer ... fer what Judd
done. In course we hev got ter keer fer her."
Big Jerry nodded an abashed assent, and said no more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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