CHAPTER THREE UNCLES When Rose woke next morning,
She was not sure whether she had dreamed what occurred the night before,
Or it had actually happened.
So she hopped up and dressed,
Although it was an hour earlier than she usually rose.
For she could not sleep anymore,
Being possessed with a strong desire to sleep down and see if the boatman's show and packing cases were really in the hall.
She seemed to remember tumbling over them when she went to bed for the ants had sent her off very punctually,
Because they wanted their pet nephew all to themselves.
The sun was shining,
And Rose opened her window to let in the soft May air fresh from the sea as she leaned over her little balcony and wondering how she should like Uncle Alec.
She saw a man leap the garden wall and come whistling up the bed.
At first she thought it was some trespasser,
But a second look showed her that it was her uncle returning from an early dip into the sea.
She had hardly dared to look at him the night before,
Because whenever she tried to do so she always found a pair of keen blue eyes looking at her.
Now she could take good stare at him,
A brown,
Breezy man in a blue jacket with no hat on the curly head,
Which he shook now and then like a water-dog,
Broad-shouldered,
Alert in his motions and with a general air of strength and stability about him,
Which pleased Rose,
Though she could not explain the feeling of comfort it gave her.
She had just said to herself,
With a sense of relief,
I guess I shall like him,
Though he looks as if he made people mind,
When he lifted his eyes to examine the budding horse chestnut overhead and saw the eager face peering down at him.
He waved his hand to her,
Nodded,
And called out in a bluff,
Cheery voice,
You are on the deck early,
Little niece.
I got up to see if you had really come,
Uncle.
Had you?
Well,
Come down here and make sure of it.
I am not allowed to go out before breakfast,
Sir.
Oh,
Indeed!
Then I'll come abroad and salute,
He added.
And to Rose's great amazement uncle Alec went up,
One of the pillars of the black piazza hand over hand,
Stepped across the roof,
And swung himself into her balcony,
Saying,
Have you any doubts about me now,
Ma'am?
Rose was so taken back she could only answer with a smile as she went to meet him.
How does my girl do this morning?
He asked,
Taking the little coat hand she gave him in both his big warm ones.
Pretty well,
Thank you,
Sir.
Ah,
But it should be very well,
Why isn't it?
I always wake up with a headache and feel tired.
Don't you sleep well?
I lay awake long time and then I dream and my sleep does not seem to rest me much.
What do you all do all day?
All I read,
I sew a little and take naps and sit with auntie.
No running about of outdoors or riding hay?
Aunt Plenty says I am not strong enough for much exercise.
I drive out with her sometimes,
But I don't care for it.
I am not surprised at that,
Said Uncle Alec,
Half to himself,
Adding in his quick way,
Or have you had to play with?
No one but Ariadne Blish,
And she was such a goose I couldn't bear her.
Boys came yesterday and seemed rather nice,
But of course I couldn't play with them.
Why not?
I am too old to play with boys.
Not the beat of it.
That is just what you need,
For you have been mollycoddled too much.
They are good lads and you'll be mixed up with them more or less for years to come so you may as well be friends and playmates at once.
I will look you up some girls also,
If I can find a sensible one who is not spoilt by her nonsensical education.
Phoebe is sensible,
I'm sure,
And I like her,
Though I only saw her yesterday,
Cried Rose.
Waking up suddenly.
And who is Phoebe,
If you please?
Rose eagerly told all she knew,
And Uncle Alec listened,
With an odd smile lurking about his mouth,
Though his eyes were quite sober as he watched the face before him.
I am glad to see that you are not aristocratic in your taste,
But I don't quite make out why you like this young lady from the poorhouse.
You may laugh at me,
But I do,
I can't tell why,
Only she seems so happy and busy and sings so beautifully and is strong enough to scrub and sweep and hasn't any troubles to plague her,
Said Rose,
Making a funny jumble of reasons in her efforts to explain.
How do you know that?
Oh,
I was telling her about mine and asked if she had any and she said,
No,
Only I'd like to go to school and I mean to some day.
So she doesn't call desertion poverty and hard work troubles.
She is a brave little girl and I shall be proud to know her,
And Uncle Alec gave an approving nod that made Rose wish she had been the one to earn it.
But what are these troubles of yours,
Child?
He asked,
After a minute of silence.
Please don't ask me,
Uncle.
Can't you tell me,
As well as to Phoebe?
Laughing in his tone made Rose feel that it would be better to speak out and be done with it.
So she answered with sudden colour and averted eyes.
The greatest one was losing dear Papa.
As she said that,
Uncle Alec's arm came gently around her,
Saying in the voice,
So like Papa's.
There is a trouble which I cannot cure,
My child,
But I shall try to make you feel it less.
What else,
Dear?
I am so tired and poorly all the time,
I can't do anything I want to,
And it makes me cross,
Sighed Rose,
Rubbing the aching head like a fretful child.
That we can cure,
And we will,
Said her uncle,
With the decided nod that made the curse pop on his head,
To that Rose saw the grey ones underneath the brown.
Aunt Myra says I have now constitution and never shall be strong,
Served Rose in a pensive tone,
As if it was rather a nice thing to be an invalid.
Aunt Myra is an excellent woman,
But it is her hobby to believe that everyone is tottering on the brink of the grave,
And upon my life I believe she is offended if people don't fall into it.
We will show her how to make constitutions and turn pale-faced yule-ghosts into rosy hearty girls.
That is my business,
You know,
He added,
More quietly for his sudden outburst,
Had rather startled Rose.
I had forgotten you were a doctor,
I am glad of it,
For I do want to be well,
Only I hope you won't give me much medicine,
For I have taken quarts already,
And it does not do me good.
As she spoke,
Rose pointed to a little table just inside the window,
On which appeared a regiment of bottles.
Aha!
Now we'll see what mid-shift these blessed women have been at.
At making a long arm,
Dr.
Alex set the bottles on the white railing before him,
Examined each carefully,
Smiled over some,
Frowned over others,
And said,
As he put down the last,
Now I will show you the best way to take these messes.
And as quick as a flash he sent one after another,
Smashing down into the posy beds below.
But Aunt Plenty won't like it,
And Aunt Myre will be angry,
For she sent most of them,
Cried Rose,
Half frightened and half pleased at such energetic measures.
You are my patient now,
And I'll take the responsibility.
My way of giving physics is evidently the best,
For you look better already,
He said,
Laughing so infectiously that Rose followed suit,
Saying sorcely,
If I don't like your medicines any better than those,
I shall throw them into the garden,
And then what will you do?
When I prescribe such rubbish,
I'll give you leave to pitch it overboard,
As soon as you like.
Now,
What is the next trouble?
I hope you forget to ask,
But how can I help you if I don't know them?
Come,
Let us have number three.
It is very wrong,
I suppose,
But I do sometimes wish I had not wet so many ants.
They are all very good to me,
And I want to please them,
But they are so different.
I feel sort of pulled to pieces among them,
Said Rose,
Trying to express the emotions of a stray chicken,
With six hands all clucking over it at once.
Uncle Alec threw back his head and laughed like a boy,
For he could entirely understand how the good ladies had each put in her oar,
And tried to paddle her own way,
To the great disturbance of the waters and the entire bewilderment of poor Rose.
I intend to try a course of uncle's now,
And see how that suits your constitution.
I'm going to have you all to myself,
And no one is to give a word of advice unless I ask it.
There is no other way to keep order abroad,
And I am captain of this little craft.
What comes next?
But Rose stuck there,
And grew so red,
Her uncle guessed what the trouble was.
I don't think I can tell this one,
It wouldn't be polite,
And I feel pretty sure that it isn't going to be a trouble anymore.
As she blushed and stammered over these words,
Dr.
Alec turned his eyes away to the distant sea,
And said so seriously,
So tenderly,
That she felt every word,
And long remembered them.
My child,
I don't expect you to love and trust me all at once,
But I do want you to believe that I shall give my whole heart to this new duty,
And if I make mistakes,
As I probably shall,
No one will grieve over them more bitterly than I.
It is my fault that I am a stranger to you,
When I want to be your best friend.
That is one of my mistakes,
And I never repented it more deeply than I do now.
Your father and I had a trouble once,
And I thought I could never forgive him,
So I kept away for years,
Thank God we made it all up the last time I saw him,
And he told me then that if he was forced to leave her,
He should bequeath his little girl to me as a token of his love.
I can't fill his place,
But I shall try to be a father to her,
And if she learns to love me half as well as she did the good one she has lost,
I shall be a proud and happy man.
Will she believe this and try?
Something in Uncle Alec's face touched Rose to the heart,
And when he hauled out his hand,
With that anxious troubled look in his eyes,
She was moved to put up her innocent lips and seal the contract with confiding kiss.
The strong arm held her close for a minute,
And she felt the broad chest as if it a great sigh of relief,
But not a word was spoken till a tap at the door made them both start.
Rose bobbed her head to the window to say,
Come in,
While Dr.
Alec hastily rubbed the sleeve of his jacket across his eyes and began to whistle again.
Phoebe appeared with a cup of coffee.
Debbie taught me to bring this and help you get up,
She said,
Opening her black eyes wide as if she wondered how on earth the sailor man got there.
I am all dressed,
So I don't need any help.
I hope that is good and strong,
Added Rose,
Eyeing the steaming cup with an eager look.
But she did not get it,
For a brown-haired took possession of it,
As her uncle said quickly.
Hold hard,
My lass,
And let me overhaul that dose before you take it.
Do you drink all this strong coffee every morning,
Rose?
Yes,
Sir,
And I like it,
And,
He says,
It tones me up,
And I always feel better after it.
This accounts for the sleepless nights,
The flutter your heart gets,
And this is why the cheek of yours is pale yellow instead of rosy red.
No more coffee for you,
My dear,
And by and by you will see that I am right.
Any new milk downstairs,
Phoebe?
Yes,
Sir,
Plenty right in from the barn.
That is the drink for my patient.
Bring me a pitch,
Add another cup.
I want the throat myself.
This won't hurt the honeysuckles,
For they have no nerves to speak of,
And to Rose's great discomfort the coffee went after the medicine.
Dr.
Alex saw the injured look she put on,
But took no notice and pleasantly banished it by saying pleasantly,
I've got a capital little cup among my traps,
And I'll give it to you to drink your milk in.
As it is made of wood that is supposed to improve whatever is put into it,
Something like a croissant cup that reminds me one of the boxes Phoebe wanted to lug upstairs last night is for you.
Knowing that I was coming home to find a ready-made daughter,
I picked up all sort of odd and pretty trifles along the way,
Hoping she would be able to find something she liked among them all.
Early tomorrow we'll have a grand romage.
Here is our milk.
I proposed the health of Miss Rose Campbell,
And drink it with all my heart.
It was impossible for Rose to quote with the prospect of a delightful box full of gifts dancing before her eyes.
So in spite of herself she smiled as she drank her own health,
And found that fresh milk was not a hard dose to take.
Now I must be off before I am caught again with my week in a toss,
Said Dr.
Alex,
Preparing to descend the way he came.
Do you always go in and out like a cat,
Uncle?
Asked Rose,
Much amused at his odd ways.
I used to sneak out of my window when I was a boy,
So I need not disturb the ants,
And now I rather like it,
For it is the shortest road,
And it keeps me limber when I have no rigging to climb.
Goodbye till breakfast.
And away he went down the water sprout,
Over the roof,
And vanished among the beating honeysuckles below.
Ain't he a funny garden,
Exclaimed Phoebe,
As she went off with the cubs.
He is very kind one,
I think,
Answered Rose following,
To prowl round the big boxes and try to guess which one was hers.
When her uncle appeared at the sound of the bell,
He found her surveying with an anxious face a new dish that smocked upon the table.
Got a fresh trouble,
Rosie,
He asked,
Stroking her smooth head.
Uncle!
Are you going to make me eat oatmeal?
Asked Rose in a tragic tone.
Don't you like it?
I detest it,
Answered Rose with odd emphasis,
Which a turn-up nose,
A shudder,
And a groan could give to the three words.
You are not a true Scotch woman if you don't like the porridge.
It's a pity,
For I made it myself and thought we'd have such a good time with all that cream to float in it.
Well,
Never mind.
And he sat down with a disappointed air.
Rose had made up her mind to be obstinate about it,
Because she did heartily detest the dish,
But as uncle Alec did not attempt to make her obey,
She suddenly changed her mind and thought she would.
I will try to eat it to please you,
Uncle,
But people are always saying how wholesome it is and that makes me hate it,
She said,
Half ashamed at her silly excuse.
I do want you to like it,
Because I wish my girl to be as well and strong as Jessie's boys,
Who are brought up in this in the good old fashion.
No hot bread and fried stuff for them,
And they are the biggest and bonniest lads of the lot.
Bless you,
Auntie,
Dr.
Alec turned to greet the old lady,
And with a firm resolve to eat or die in the attempt,
Rose sat down.
In five minutes she forgot what she was eating.
So interested was she in the chat that went on.
It amused her very much to hear Aunt Plenty call her forty-year-old nephew,
My dear boy,
And uncle Alec was so full of lively gossip about all creation in general,
And the anthill in particular,
That the detested porridge vanished without a murmur.
You will go to church with us,
I hope,
Alec,
If you are not too tired,
Said the old lady when breakfast was over.
I came all the way from Calcutta for that express purpose,
Ma'am.
Only I must send the sisters word of my arrival,
Or they don't expect me till to-morrow.
You know,
And there will be a row in church if those boys see me without warning.
I will send Ben up the hill,
And you can step over to Myra's yourself.
It will please her,
And you will have plenty of time.
Dr.
Alec was off at once,
And they saw no more of him till the old barouche was at the door,
And Aunt Plenty just rustling downstairs in her Sunday best.
It rose like a little black shadow behind her.
Away they drove instead,
And all the way uncle Alec's hat was more off his head than on,
For everyone they met smiled and bowed,
And gave him as bright a greeting as they permitted.
It was evident that the warning had been a wise one,
For,
In spite of time and place,
The lads were in such a ferment that their elders sat in momentary dread of an unseemly outbreak somewhere.
It was simply impossible to keep those fourteen eyes of uncle Alec,
And the dreadful things that were done during sermon time will hardly be believed.
Charlie winked rapturously at her.
Behind his mother's fan,
Mac openly pointed to the tall figure beside her.
He stared fixedly over the back of his pew,
Till Rose thought his round eyes would drop out of his head.
George fell over her stool and dropped three books in his excitement,
Wheeled through sailors and Chinamen on his clean cuffs,
And displayed them to Rose's great tribulation.
Steve nearly upset all party by burning his nose with salts as he pretended to be overcome by his joy.
Even dignified,
Archie disgraced himself by writing in his hymn book,
Isn't He Blue and Brown?
,
Passing it politely to Rose.
Her only salvation was trying to fix her attention upon Uncle Mac,
A portly,
Placid gentleman who seemed entirely unconscious of the inquisities of the clan,
And dozed peacefully in his pew corner.
This was the only uncle Rose had met for years,
For Uncle Jem and Uncle Steve,
The husbands of Aunt Jessie and Aunt Clara,
Were at sea,
And Aunt Myra was a widow.
Uncle Mac was a merchant,
Very rich and busy,
And as quiet as a mouse at home,
For he was in such a minority among the womanfolk.
He dared not open his lips and let his wife rule undisturbed.
Rose liked the big,
Kindly,
Silent man who came to her when Papa died,
Was always sending her splendid boxes of goodies at school,
And often invited her into his great warehouse full of teas and spices,
Wines,
And all sort of foreign fruits,
There to eat and carry away whatever she liked.
She had secretly regretted that he was not to be her guardian,
But since she had seen Uncle Alec,
She felt better about it,
For she did not particularly admire Aunt Jane.
When church was over,
Dr.
Alec got into the porch as quickly as possible,
And there the young bears had a hug all round,
While the sisters shook hands and welcomed him with bright faces and glad hearts.
Rose was nearly crushed flat behind the door in that dangerous passage from pew to porch,
But Uncle Mac rescued her and put her into the carriage for safekeeping.
Now,
Girls,
I want you to come and dine with Alec,
Mac also,
Of course,
But I cannot ask the boys,
For we did not expect this dear fellow till to-morrow,
You know,
So I made no preparations,
Sent the lads home and let them wait till Monday,
For really I was shocked at their behavior in church,
Said Aunt Plenty,
As she followed Rose.
In any other place the defrauded boys would have set up a hall,
As it was,
They growled and protested till Dr.
Alec set out the matter by saying,
Never mind,
Oh chaps,
I'll make it up to you to-morrow,
If you assure of quietly,
If you don't,
Not a blessing shall you have,
My big boxers.
