"Why, no: it's the easiest chair you ever sat in. You just try it some day. I had one before this that did tire me, though: it was a horrid chair. It wasn't made right; but this is a jolly chair. It's better than the bed."

Rob, who had felt guilty the moment he had asked the question, thinking it was not kind, was much relieved at this answer, and thought to himself:--

"Well, that's lucky. He didn't mind my asking him one bit. I guess it's because he's been sick so long he doesn't remember how it felt to run about."

CHAPTER XV

CHANGES IN PROSPECT

I could not tell you one-half of the pleasant things that happened in the course of the next month to Rob and Nelly. They had such good times that they hardly ever thought of their disappointment about the mine. And even Mr. and Mrs. March thought less and less about it every day, they were so much interested in talking with Mr. and Mrs.

Cook. Mr. March and Mr. Cook became good friends very soon. Mr. Cook would often work all day long in the fields with Mr. March. He said it made him feel as if he were a boy again, on his father's farm.

The days that Rob and Nelly went to Rosita were very long days to Arthur. He was so lonely that Mrs. Cook proposed to her husband one day that they should let Thomas, the driver, take the children up town in the carriage, and bring them right back again.

"They need not be gone more than two hours in all," she said. "It is that tiresome walk that takes so long."

But Mr. Cook was too wise to do this.

"That would not be any true kindness to the children," he said. "It is much better that they should keep on with the regular routine of their life, just as they did before. If they were to have the carriage to take them up to town for a month, it would only make the walk seem very long and hard to them after we are gone. We will give them all the pleasure we can, without altering their way of living."

"The mere fact of our being here alters their whole life," said Mrs.

Cook. "They have now constant companionship, and a variety of amus.e.m.e.nts and interests, in Arthur's toys and books, which are all new to them. Before we came, they had solitude, absolutely no amus.e.m.e.nts, and no occupation except hard work. Nelly told me the other day that she had read every book in their house, twice over."

"There are not very many books," said Mr. Cook: "I don't know how March comes to have so few."

"Oh, they had to sell ever so many last summer: Mrs. March told me so," replied Mrs. Cook.

"By Jove! did they?" exclaimed Mr. Cook. "That was too bad. I wonder if March would take it amiss if I sent him out a box of books this autumn."

"I don't know," Mrs. Cook said thoughtfully. "They haven't a particle of false pride, about their work, or selling things, or any thing of that kind; but I doubt their liking presents. They are very independent."

The weeks slipped by as if they weren't more than three days long.

Rob and Nelly got up before daylight every morning, so as to hurry through their work and go down to the tents,--down to "Arthur's,"

they always called it, as if it were a house. Sometimes they stayed all day, till it was time for Rob to go for the cows. They read, or they played dominoes or chequers or backgammon; or they put dissected maps together; or they looked at all sorts of things under the microscope; or they painted flowers: this was the nicest thing of all. Mrs. Cook drew and painted beautifully. She had taught Arthur, so that he could paint a little simple flower really very well; and he had a beautiful paint-box, full of real good paints, such as artists use,--not such as are put in toy-boxes for children.

This was the thing Nelly enjoyed best. Then Ralph, the cook, used to go off gunning every day, and he brought home beautiful birds, and Arthur and Rob used to nail the wings on boards to dry. Arthur had a little table that fitted across his chair, and on this table he could pound pretty hard; and he made a good many pretty things out of wood. It seemed to Rob that there wasn't any thing in the whole world which Flora could not bring out of the two big black boxes which stood in her tent, and held Arthur's things. As for books, he had fifty: every one of Mayne Reid's. When Rob saw those he was delighted.

"Oh, Arthur! Arthur! ain't they splendid! I've had 'The Cliff Climbers.'"

"I don't think so," said Arthur. "They're all about hunting and fighting, and such things."

"Oh, my!" said Rob, "don't you like that? That's just what I like.

I'll read some of 'em to you. I bet you'd like them." And when Rob read them to him, Arthur really did like them.

He could not help sharing Rob's enthusiasm; but when Rob exclaimed:--"Oh, Arthur, don't you wish you could go to the Himalayas?" poor Arthur only shuddered, and said:--

"No, indeed! it shakes you so awfully to go in the cars."

Rob did not ask him again; but he told Nelly at night what Arthur had said, and he added:--

"Say, Nell, if I should ever get to be like Arthur, I'd take poison."

"Why, Rob!" cried Nelly, "that's awfully wicked! You wouldn't ever dare to!" And Nelly turned pale with fright.

"I expect it is," said Rob; "but I reckon I'd do it! Why, Nell, I'd just have to!"

Mrs. Cook sat with the children hours at a time, and listened to their talk and play. She and her husband took a drive or a ride every afternoon; but the rest of the time she did not leave Arthur.

The more she saw the influence of Rob and Nelly upon him, the more grateful she felt for the strange chance which had brought them together. Arthur was really growing better. He had more color, more appet.i.te, and very seldom complained of pain. He had something to think of beside himself; and he was happy,--the two best medicines in all the world: they will cure more diseases than people dream.

One day, Flora said to Mrs. Cook:--

"I suppose, ma'am, ye'll be going soon. There was quite a frost in the north o' the valley last night, Thomas was telling me. They say there'll be snow here before long."

"Yes, Flora, I suppose we will have to go very soon: week after next, Mr. Cook thinks," replied Mrs. Cook.

Arthur was lying back in his chair, with his eyes shut. They thought he was asleep; but at the sound of these words he opened his eyes, and cried out:--

"I won't go away, mamma! I won't go! You can't make me. I'm not going away ever. I'm going to stay here."

"Why, Arthur dear!" said his mother, "you wouldn't like to stay here without papa and without me; and you know papa must go home."

"Yes, I would!" cried Arthur: "I've been thinking about it for ever so long. Flora can stay: she can dress and undress me; and I can live in Mrs. March's house, and sleep in Rob's bed. I asked Nelly, and she said I could. Rob can sleep on the lounge. I shan't go home.

I hate New York; and if you take me back there I'll get sicker and sicker, and die; and I don't care if I do, if I can't stay here!"

Mrs. Cook was grieved and shocked. She had often thought to herself that there was danger that Rob and Nelly would be discontented and lonely when Arthur went away; but strangely enough she had never thought of any such danger for Arthur. She had often wished she could take Nelly home with her to live; but she had dismissed it from her mind as an impossible thing. Now she began to think of it again. She sat a long time in silence, turning it over and over.

"Why don't you speak, mamma?" asked Arthur: "are you angry with me?"

"No, dear," replied Mrs. Cook: "I am not angry: only very, very sorry; and I am trying to think what we can do to make you happy when we go away. I shall be very sorry if all our pleasant time here only makes you unhappier after you go home. You were very contented before we came here."

"I don't think I was very, mamma," said Arthur, sadly. "I always wanted a boy or a girl; and none of the boys and girls in New York cared any thing about me,--only my things; but Nelly is just like my own sister,--at least I guess that's the way sisters are,--and Rob is just like my brother. Mamma, I can't go away! I don't see why you can't leave me. You and papa would come back in the spring. Oh, mamma, let me! let me!" And poor Arthur began to cry.

Mrs. Cook put her arms around him, and laid her face down close to his.

"My darling child!" she said, "haven't papa and I done every thing we possibly could to make you happy always?"

"Yes," sobbed Arthur; "and that's why I think you might leave me here."

"Dear boy, you don't seem to think," said his mother, "how lonely papa and I would be without you."

"Oh, mamma, would you, really? How could you be? I'm only a bother: I can't go round with you or any thing. I think you'd have a great deal better time without me. Perhaps I'd get so I could walk if I stayed here all winter. You know one doctor said I ought to stay a whole year."

"Arthur, dear," said Mrs. Cook, earnestly, "do not talk any more about this now. Promise mamma that you will try not to think about it either; and I promise you I will talk to papa and see what he thinks can be done. All we want in this world is to make you happy, and do what is best for you."

"Will you ask him to let me stay?" cried Arthur.