THE WATCHER

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 16, 18 April 1907, Page 5

THE WATCHER

The soft dusk of an early- autumn evening was falling when the doctor came from the sicK-room intathe spotless kitchen where Mary Catherine sat. " How'd you find him, Doctor ?' she inquired, anxiously. 'Is he real bad oil ?' * - •

The doctor gave her a little reassuring nod as he seated himself, in a chair near her own. '.The fact is, Mary Catherine,' he said, lowering: his voice that his words might not carry to the invalid in the room beyond, ( your father ha's never in his life been sick enough to realise what real illness is. He hasn't any standard of his own for comparison, and consequently, when he's a trifle indisposed, as he is now, hi& imagination gets away with him. It's a- cold —a simple, old-fashioned cold, nothing more nor less. t Maybe' he's a bit worn out, too. It takes hold of a man who is on the wrong side ql seventy to work as he does. But there's nothing in any way serious. He'll be as good as new in a few days. But you can't make Mm think' so. He firmly believes that this >is the beginning of the end, and you can't possibly get the idea out of his head. End !' The doctor chuckled delightedly. ' I'd give a good deal -to have half the constitution he - has now ! ' Mary Catherine gave a sigh of relief.' 'I'm glad . it's no worse,' she suld. 'This afternoon I was real worried. ' — ' Naturally, naturally-,' laughed" the doctor. •He makes a fuss out of all proportion to his ailments. I've left some powders for him. You might give 'him one every two hours as long as they last. And I'd humor him, if I were you. If he gets any comfort out of tl.lnking_ his time has. come, why, let 'him think so for a day cr two. Jt won't last longer, I warrant you.' - He picked up his hat and medicine-case and went out at the back *door, calling a cheerful .good-night over his shoulder. A moment later the rumble of wheels told of his departure. Hardly had the sound of them died away -when a voice called 'querulously^ from . the befdroom. : ' Mary Catherine, where are you ?' , Maiy Catherine hurried into the presence of the invalid. He lay in the high-posted bed— a well-preserved old - man with huge . frame and small, dark eyes that locked at one piercingly from beneath their bu^hv white .brows. There was something plaintive in them as he turned eagerly to his 'daughter. ' W'hat'd he say ?' • lie asked curtly. ' - • 'He says you're.. gc.tng to >be all right in a day or two, father,' was the cheerful' response: <He . never,' the old man flatly' contradicted, '"or •if he did, k he was tryin' to deceive you. That's sornethin' I ain't goin' to do.' I'm goin' -tio foe out an' out with you. Sit down.'- - -' -\ ' . Mary Catherine sat down on the edge of the bed { Im a sick man, Mary Catherine,' x he went on-. 'It's been comin' on this good while. I've been failin' all summer., -I ain't long for this world.' ' , ' O sho, father.! ' his daughter deprecated. ' I ain't ,long for this world,' hex repeated ' with some warnrth, as if daring any xme to dispute . Urn. • ' I guess I can- tell pretty well when my time's come. I' feel it in my bones this is goin' to be' my ' last - sickness.' ' ■ ' You'll feel diffe-ent in the monJUng,' Mary Catherine* declared.

No, I shan't. I'm a sick man— a- terrible sick man. I cal-late- it's pneumony \or the beganmin* of a gen'ral break-up. I shan't ever be any better; Doc, he s always hopeful, 'cause-: that's has business, (but he l coat fool me. He stuck that glass tube of Ms unw der my tctngue, an' that's just .what he did to Ranee i Moulton when he had the pneumony. -I don't knowhow long I shall be, rational, so I want to tell you now that my will's in -the cedar chest. ' What are you go,ing to have for supper ?'• inquired his practical daughter. , ; 'I hain't got any appetite,'; he returned gloomily. Just some gruel an' tea, guess. But before you get it, I wish you'd go over an' see if Cephas Blak-e'll come over an' watch with me- to-night.' ' Why, if you think you need to have' a ~ watcher, I'll sat up with you.' ' ! No, I ain't goin' to have you .broke of your rest,' he objected. ' You'll have enough to do waiting on > me daytimes. • You. go and get Cephas. I ought to have some one here, for like enough I'll be worse in the night, and besides, I've got to have powders • every two hours/ • ■ Mary Catherine rose reluctantly. * Perhaps you wont need a watcher,' she suggested: -'Perhaps you'll * feel^ sleepy after you've had your supper. r * i- -j do ?'-£ <cal ' late I shall close my eyes to-night 'he replied.- You get Cephas. I've heard he waa real handy m sickness.' Thus it came about that two hours later Cephas Blake was ushered into the sick-room, where a dim light showed but faintly the rugged outlines of the- face v*iJ w i»ow Cephas was -nearly as old as the invalid but, unlike him, he was small and wiry' 1, a <<°c evenin> > Eberi!' he said tiptoeing 'to the bed. Sorry you reminder the weather. Never had an idea of such a -thing till Mary Catherine ran over a nutie while ago. 1 ntw H *i Ye a •° hair >' sai ' d the sick man. as the h? rJr* W *°*?T, tolfh md crawled comfortably in it; r h a e ce C T s tm m U olt rj? * C^ S ' * gUeSS N b°ul \^^\lT\^ ™y> cephi be- • vrJwl o^ o^} ? Ver tell how you ' n l0 <> k at things till you re brought lace to face with 'em. If it's cot to come, as of course it has some time, I guess itmieht Sam H«Hp+ the Cc ar ' a T nd Mary Catherine will marry Sain Hallet s'qon after I'm gene, so that leaves 'her • well provided for.' He sighed heavily. < I'm resigned Cephas. I'm perfectly resigned' - "swgnea, t™ C S ha^ qUir^ in Ws chair. 'I should •^Lf^.V 11 ** 16 Sleep if rwere you '' „.«« t P 1! man on the hed - snorted scornfully 'I En" S^ much sleep! My head"s i-gh someT 17 a powder ' ihen - Maybe that'll ease you I f- e I . sh ? lok the P°" wd er from its paper out on the X afte^E \ nd heW a , tu - mbler o?^ water £ his the ohah Jti \ * ce + Z es " m^' "is sprawling attitude in was tl» ?f 1 t} f r ? m Preoccupied silence. There S +jj^n? wtOJw tO J? reak t h « stillness except the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. After a time Mary CathSnhP^v* tO , b f ed ' an l the si^nce became oppressive He P was y dHftl, fr i2? enUy ' an^ » Ves^ **&* to X « p^ s is^^cs a sss^^r whenacom-with^o-me'asperity^' " c 7 ° U '- ° ephaS ? ' "^dred, effort <and ■ S- there ?£L 1 S u airdln - His ulKler »w drop"■Yel^' «' h J !r '' «"> tr adicted Cephas, vigorously. . -J • „i'- r !" wer t- You were a-snorin'.' . I hain't snored a mitp ' wtaSS'V^ ? i "SSSS. "S? ' Well - 1-™ i I s f] ce B ;.^uL mi ? hh h tt U U t ha ; , Jl l I : ha y e a; watcher,; sa-id Eben; ' ! r' want "one" 'to ' ' can siwre ij°' W how many digerent keys he

Cephas looked hurt. For a time he held himself upright "in the chair. .Yet the' rall7 was but short- . lived. Gradually the stiffness of his pose relaxed.- He sank lower in - the chair. Again his - jaw dropped, and again _- he - sent . forth sT'series- cif guttural gurgles which surpassed all former efforts. Eben, who had dropped into a doze himself, was rudely awakened. He sat up in bed, staring at the man in the chair. 'Don't dtr beat time,' he burst out, ' that a man can't be sick . peaceable in his own house ! -Hey, there, Cephas ! What you doin' ? Just " lost yourself " again, I s'pose ! Lost yourself pretty thorough this time", ain't, ye ? ' _. „ ' _ His voice had risen to a shout, but" Cephas snored on. An angry light appeared iii Eben's eyes. He came out of the bed with a bound. " • ' I guess you need the bed more'n I do,"' he said, under his breath. ' Next thing I know, - you'll ■ pitch head first out of that chair and break your neck.' - He snatched up Ms clothes from another chair and began' -jerking them on. < Then he - lifted Cephas and laid - him gently on the- bed. Cephas' eyes" did not *. open; •his -grunts • and< gurgles went on noisily. "" There ,was an extra blanket on- the footboard of the bed,- and Eben, wrapping this about" himself, sat'.downin the chair, a grim smile curving his lips. It grew more- pronounced as he glanced at the recumbent form on the patchwork coverlet. 1 I. guess I'll have to put off dyin' till I can. t findsome decent watchers,' he ruminated. Mary Catherine, coming downstairs early the next morning, paused at the door of her father's "bedroomand caught from within the sound of heavy, regular breathing. ' Guess I won't disturb 'em -now,' she observed, and it -was not until breakfast was on the table/ that sfae . pushed onen the bedroom door. The. sight which met her eyes brought a gasp of astonishment from her. On the bed lay Cephas Blake, fully dressed and stfill snoring lustily, while in a chair fey the bedside her father dozed " peacefully, his chin 'sunk on his chest. - ' Why, father, ' she cried/ ' you must be feelin' -better . * - - The old man started up and grinned sheepishly. I am,' he said, ' a good deal. I've slept pretty well, and, I should ha' slept more if Cephas hadn't snored so. Coin' to get breakfast -? ' | It's on ' the table. You comin' out ? ' ' ' Yes, I'll be out as soon as I can get him woke up,' he said. ° He went to the bed and gave Cephas a series of vigorous shakes. 'Come'! ' he shouted. ' Pome, it's time to get up • Breakfast's ready, and I guess you must be most starved after your night- of "wajtehin".'— ' The Companion. >x ' •