Elsie's children

"Have you the doctor's address?" Mr. Ross asked, when taking leave of the girl in her new quarters.

"Yes, sir; Mrs. Travilla gave it to me on a card, and I have it safe. A letter of introduction too, from Dr. Morton. He says he is not personally acquainted with Dr. Thomson, but knows him well by reputation, and if anybody can help me he can."

"That is encouraging, and I hope you will have no difficulty in finding the place. It is in the next street and only a few squares from here."

Sally thought she could find it readily; Mrs. Travilla had given her very careful directions about the streets and numbers in Philadelphia; besides, she could inquire if she were at a loss.

When Mr. Ross returned home, he brought some one with him at sight of whom the Ion children uttered a joyous cry, and who stepping from the carriage, caught their mother in his arms and held her to his heart, as if he meant never to let her go.

"Papa! papa!" cried the children, "we did not know you were coming; mamma did not tell us. Mamma, did you know?"

"Yes, mamma had known; they saw it in her smiling eyes; and now they knew why it was that she had watched and listened so eagerly for the coming of the carriage; even more so than Aunt Lucy, who was expecting Uncle Philip, and who was very fond of him too. But then he had left her only the other day, and mamma and papa had been parted for weeks."

Mr. Travilla had rented a furnished cottage at Cape May and come to take them all there. The doctors thought that would be best for Lily now.

The young folks were greatly pleased, and ready to start at once; they had enjoyed their visit to the Crags, but had missed papa sadly, and now they would have him with them all the time, grandpa and the whole family from the Oaks, too; for they were occupying an adjoining cottage. And the delicious salt sea breeze, oh, how pleasant it would be!

Mrs. Ross was sorry to part with her guests, had hoped to keep her friend with her all summer, but a good deal comforted in her disappointment, by the knowledge that her mother, Sophie and her children would soon take their places.

As for young Philip he was greatly vexed and chagrined. "It is really too bad!" he said seeking little Elsie out, and taking a seat by her side.

She was on the porch at some little distance from the others, and busied in turning over the pages of a new book her papa had brought her.

"What is too bad, Phil?" she asked, closing it, and giving her full attention to him.

"That you must be hurried away so soon. I've hardly been at home two weeks, and we hadn't seen each other before for two years."

"Well a fortnight is a good while. And you will soon have your cousins here – Herbert, Meta – "

"Herbert!" he interrupted impatiently, "who cares for him? and Meta, prying, meddling, tell-tale Meta's worse than nobody. But there! don't look so shocked, as if I had said an awfully wicked thing. I really don't hate her at all, though she got me into trouble more than once with grandma and Aunt Sophie that winter we spent at Ashlands. Ah, a bright thought strikes me!"

"Indeed! may I have the benefit of it?" asked the little girl, smiling archly.

"That you may. It is that you might as well stay on another week, or as long as you will."

"Thank you, but you must remember the doctor says we should go at once, on baby's account."

"I know that, but I was speaking only of you personally. Baby doesn't need you, and papa could take you to your father and mother after a while."

"Let them all go and leave me behind? Oh, Phil, I couldn't think of such a thing!"

The Travillas had been occupying their seaside cottage for two weeks, when a letter came from Sally Gibson; the first she had written them, though she had been notified at once of their change of address, told that they would be glad to hear how she was and what Dr. Thomson thought of her case, and a cordial invitation given her to come to them to rest and recruit as soon as she was ready to leave her physician.

Elsie's face grew very bright as she read.

"What does she say?" asked her husband.

"There is first an apology for not answering sooner (her eyes were so full of belladonna that she could not see to put pen to paper, and she had no one to write for her), then a burst of joy and gratitude – to God, to the doctor and to me, – 'success beyond anything she had dared to hope,' but she will be with us to-morrow, and tell us all about it."

"And she won't be blind, mamma?" queried Violet, joyously.

"No, dear; I think that she must mean that her eyes are cured, or her sight made good in some way."

"Oh, then, I'll just love that good doctor!" cried the child, clasping her hands in delight.

The next day brought Sally, but they scarcely recognized her, she had grown so plump and rosy, and there was so glad a light in the eyes that looked curiously at them through glasses clear as crystal.

Mrs. Travilla took her by both hands and kissed her.

"Welcome, Sally; I am glad to see you, but should scarcely have known you, had we met in a crowd; – you are looking so well and happy."

"And so I am, my dear kind friend," the girl answered with emotion; "and I can see! see to read fine print that is all a blur to me without these glasses; and all the pain is gone, the fear, the distress of body and mind. Oh, the Lord has been good, good to me! and the doctor so kind and interested! I shall be grateful to him and to you as long as I live!"

"Oh, did he make you those glasses? what did he do to you?" asked the eager, curious children. "Tell us all about it, please."

But mamma said, "No, she is too tired now; she must go to her room and lie down and rest till tea-time."

Little Elsie showed her the way, saw that nothing was wanting that could contribute to her comfort, then left her to her repose.

It was needed after all the excitement and the hot dusty ride in the cars; but she came down from it quite fresh, and as ready to pour out the whole story of the experiences of the past two weeks as the children could desire.

When tea was over, they clustered round her on the cool breezy veranda overlooking the restless murmuring sea, and by her invitation, questioned her to their heart's content.

"Is he a nice kind old man, like our doctor at Ion?" began little Harold.

"Quite as nice and kind I should think, but not very old."

"Did he hurt you very much?" asked Elsie, who had great sympathy for suffering, whether mental or physical.

"Oh, no, not at all! He said directly that the eyes were not diseased; the trouble was malformation and could be remedied by suitable glasses; and oh, how glad I was to hear it!"

"I thought mamma read from your letter that he put medicine in your eyes."

"Yes, belladonna, but that was only to make them sick, so that he could examine them thoroughly, and measure them for the glasses."

Turning to Mrs. Travilla, "He is very kind and pleasant to every one; so far as I could see making no difference between rich and poor, but deeply interested in each case in turn; always giving his undivided attention to the one he has in hand at the moment; putting his whole heart and mind into the work."

"Which is doubtless one great reason why he is so successful," remarked Mrs. Travilla, adding, "Remember that, my children; half-hearted work accomplishes little for this world or the next."

"Weren't you afraid the first time you went?" asked timid little Elsie.

"My heart beat pretty fast," said Sally smiling. "I am rather bashful you see, and worse than that, I was afraid the doctor would say like the others, that it was the nerve and I would have to go blind, or that some dreadful operation would be necessary; but after I had seen him and found out how kind and pleasant he was, and that I'd nothing painful or dangerous to go through, and might hope for good sight at last, I didn't mind going at all.

"It was a little tedious sitting there in the outer office among strangers with no one to speak to, and nothing to do for hours at a time, but that was nothing compared to what I was to gain by it."

Then the children wanted to know what the doctor measured eyes with, and how he did it, and Sally amused them very much by telling how she had to say her letters every day and look at the gaslight and tell what shape it was, etc., etc.

"The doctor told me," she said, addressing Mrs. Travilla, "that I would not like the glasses at first, hardly any one does; but I do, though not so well, I dare say, as I shall after a while when I get used to them."