Bubbles and Troubles

By Ruth Moench Bell

(Previous chapter)

Chapter 3

“Aunt Jane needs me,” Rhea wired home with the news of the accident. “May I stay until Ralph recovers?”

Never even in her thoughts would Rhea admit the possibility that he might not get well again. It was Rhea who kept up the faltering faith in that household. It was Rhea who took up the work herself. She had always yearned to cook and manage a household. But at home there were maids to do everything and her mother insisted that she should not do their work and spoil them. This was her opportunity to prove that she had a real genius for the home. And she rejoiced in the chance to help the afflicted family.

“You stay by Ralph,” she would say to her aunt: or, “better take a walk now with Uncle. We’ll take care of the children and do everything.” Sometimes she urged her aunt to lie down and rest while she and Marjory took charge.

In this way work was soon shifted onto their young shoulders. And the necessity helped to make them capable managers. Baby must not cry; the noise disturbed the sufferers. A thousand ingenious ways they found of diverting him. Dishes must not be rattled. Ruth had reached the stage of jumping at sudden noises. They learned that dishes could be washed quietly. Loud, high-pitched voices penetrated the sick-room. They reminded each other and cultivated gentler tones.

“How smoothly everything is going, girls,” Aunt Edith commented gratefully when she came out to the scene of action “You are so quiet and orderly.”

Sunday came and with it definite answer to their prayers. The doctor assured them that undoubtedly now Ralph would entirely recover and be all right again. He was able to speak and recognize everyone. And Ruth was allowed to sit up for a few minutes at a time in his mother’s arms.

“Sing something,” Ralph begged, when they told him it was Sunday. “What shall we sing, dear,” the mother asked.

“Do you know any Sunday school songs. Mama? They sang such a pretty one last Sunday. It was something about, ‘Did you think to pray’?”

Edith Collins caught her breath with a sob. These few days of anxiety had given her much time for reflection. “If I had only kept up with my meetings I would have kept the spirit and not neglected to pray. Such songs would have reminded me,” she thought to herself.

“Can’t you sing it?” Ralph insisted.

With tears of gratitude they gathered around the piano, “Could you spare papa and mamma to go to fast meeting this afternoon?” Mrs. Collins asked the group.

“Oh, yes,” they all cried. So it was arranged that Rhea
and Marjory should go to Sunday school and joint meeting ((I believe this is “conjoint” meeting, when the Young Men’s and Young Women’s Mutual Improvement Association met together.)), and the mother and father go in the afternoon. One week before they had nothing for which to be grateful. Now they had everything. One week before they had been wretchedly poor, which, interpreted, meant they could not afford luxuries. Now with big doctor bills to pay they were rich beyond compare. They had each other and had learned how precious each was to the other. One week before they had no time to go to church. Today with two sufferers to care for, they could manage easily.

After church Mrs. Collins slipped into the violet negligee and all that went with it. She had allowed Marjory to curl her hair and arrange it in a newer and more becoming mode. Once she had made herself as beautiful as possible to please the man whom she hoped would and finally did become her husband. Now she realized that she had four times the incentive to make herself beautiful. There were four admiring children as well as a husband who wished to adore her and be proud of her.

“You look twenty years younger, mother,” Marjory kissed her. The look of contentment and deep seated peace, peace of soul that little things could not easily disturb, the look that Rhea’s papa had remembered, was on her face.

“I don’t believe I dare ever be unhappy or bitter again,’‘ she breathed to herself, as she saw the looks of love and admiration with which her family caressed her.

“Is it love, or prayer, or gratitude, that makes you so beautiful tonight, or is it those pretty clothes?” her husband asked.

“All three; no, four,” she said happily.

“And you even have time to love us now, Mamma,” Ruth smiled as she cuddled contentedly in her mother’s arms.

“I shall take time out of each day hereafter just to love you all, and be happy I have you,” Mrs. Collins resolved. “You must remind mamma if I forget.”

Much was made clear to the mother that evening. She got acquainted with the souls of her two quarrelers, Ralph and Ruth, when she saw them so appreciative of beauty and music, so responsive to harmony of soul or surroundings, so easily disturbed by discords and the clash of confusion.

“This is such a beautiful evening,” Ralph sighed.

“You shall have many of them, dear,” Mrs. Collins promised. “I’m going to be a fairy god-mother tonight and promise that every good wish shall come true. But you must each help even a fairy god-mother. First I shall promise that every day shall be just as beautiful and peaceful and happy as today has been.”

“Even wash-days,” Ralph cried with delight.

“Blessed boy, have they been a horror to you, too,” the mother winced. “Beautiful wash-days would be a fine ideal for a mother to have. I shouldn’t wonder if that could be the test of a woman’s character and housekeeping. Beautiful wash-days! Yes, the fairy god-mother promises even that. I think she can see her way clear to grant it, too.”

“I don’t believe I’d quarrel with Ruth any more if I had Bible stories every night and songs like this,” Ralph concluded.

“And I believe I could be good natured on wash-days if I could clean up first, make house and myself tidy before we begin. And if we wouldn’t hurry so much,” Marjory observed thoughtfully.

“Each suggestion must be carried into effect. Tried out at least,” the mother smiled. “They have all seemed good so far. What is yours, Rhea? You have been so quiet tonight and you especially have shown your grandmother’s talent for housekeeping.”

“I haven’t any to make,” Rhea cried. There was a suspicion of tears in her eyes. “I was just thinking that I’d like to’ stay here forever. No, I don’t mean that exactly. But there is such a lovely spirit here tonight. But if you do want me to make a suggestion. I believe that if we could begin each day with a prayer of love and gratitude and keep the sweet influence of prayer with us in every task it would be so easy to do right and be happy and contented.”

Marjory squeezed her hand lovingly. They had always envied Rhea. And it was plain to see tonight that she almost envied them and dreaded for some reason to leave them. If they could have known, she was wishing her papa and mamma could be so happy; and wondering what they had talked over, and wondering, with apprehension, what had come of it.

“Well, there remains my suggestion, too,” Papa Collins said humorously. “Nobody seems interested in mine.”

“I know what yours is,” his wife pressed his hand affectionately. “You are wishing we would get ready for Sunday school on Saturday night ? Well, the fairy god-mother must make good and promise that, also.”

“There’s just one thing that spoils the evening,” Marjory sighed as she and Rhea sat with arms entwined about each other, “Rhea is going home tomorrow. And even a fairy god-mother can’t stop her.”

“Is it true, Rhea?” They all questioned; for the little group had grown very dear to one another in the recent trouble.

“Yes, I don’t like to tell you. Mother is going to take me to California again as soon as I get home. And this is what I love. I hate the part of California she always takes me to, the smart set and all that. If it weren’t for the beach and the grand old ocean I couldn’t bear it. I never did care for party dresses and all the fuss of formal affairs. They seem so artificial and unnatural. This seems real.”

“You are like your father, Rhea,” Aunt Edith cried lovingly. “He never did enjoy such things. And they were all the world to Ethel.”

“I wish I could trade places with you for just one year,” Marjory said enviously.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t if you knew all that is before Rhea,” Mrs. Collins surmised, for she felt that all was not well in the Leslie home.

(To be continued)