Rose in Bloom by Louisa May Alcott

his appearance was always greeted with shrieks of rapture, as the

children gathered from all quarters creeping, running, hopping on

crutches, or carried in arms which they gladly left to sit on “Uncle

Doctor’s” knee, for that was the title by which he went among

them.

He seemed as young as any of his comrades, though the curly head

was getting gray, and the frolics that went on when he arrived were

better than any medicine to children who had never learned to

play. It was a standing joke among the friends that the bachelor

brother had the largest family and was the most domestic man of

the remaining four, though Uncle Mac did his part manfully and

kept Aunt Jane in a constant fidget by his rash propositions to

adopt the heartiest boys and prettiest girls to amuse him and

employ her.

On one occasion Aunt Jane had a very narrow escape, and the

culprit being her son, not her husband, she felt free to repay herself

for many scares of this sort by a good scolding, which, unlike

many, produced excellent results.

One bright June day, as Rose came cantering home from the Point

on her pretty bay pony, she saw a man sitting on a fallen tree

beside the road and something in his despondent attitude arrested

her attention. As she drew nearer he turned his head, and she

stopped short, exclaiming in great surprise: “Why, Mac! What are

you doing here??

“Trying to solve a problem,” he answered, looking up with a

whimsical expression of perplexity and amusement in his face

which made Rose smile till his next words turned her sober in a

twinkling: “I’ve eloped with a young lady, and don’t know what to

do with her. I took her home, of course, but mother turned her out

of the house, and I’m in a quandary.?

“Is that her baggage?” asked Rose, pointing with her whip to the

large bundle which he held while the wild idea flashed through her

head that perhaps he really had done some rash deed of this sort.

“No, this is the young lady herself.” And, opening a corner of the

brown shawl, he displayed a child of three so pale, so thin and tiny

that she looked like a small scared bird just fallen from the nest as

she shrank away from the light with great frightened eyes and a

hand like a little claw tightly clutched a button of Mac’s coat.

“Poor baby! Where did it come from?” cried Rose, leaning down to

look.

“I’ll tell you the story, and then you shall advise me what to do. At

our hospital we’ve had a poor woman who got hurt and died two

days ago. I had nothing to do with her, only took her a bit of fruit

once or twice, for she had big, wistful sort of eyes that haunted me.

The day she died I stopped a minute, and the nurse said she’d been

wanting to speak to me but didn’t dare. So I asked if I could do

anything for her and, though she could hardly breathe for pain

being almost gone she implored me to take care of baby. I found

out where the child was, and promised I’d see after her for the poor

soul couldn’t seem to die till I’d given her that comfort. I never can

forget the look in her eyes as I held her hand and said, ‘Baby shall

be taken care of.’ She tried to thank me, and died soon after quite

peacefully. Well, I went today and hunted up the poor little wretch.

Found her in a miserable place, left in the care of an old hag who

had shut her up alone to keep her out of the way, and there this

mite was, huddled in a corner, crying ‘Marmar, marmar!’ fit to

touch a heart of stone. I blew up at the woman and took the baby

straightaway, for she had been abused. It was high time. Look

there, will you??

Mac turned the little skinny arm and showed a blue mark which

made Rose drop her reins and stretch out both hands, crying with a

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