"He need not write that," she said, huskily, pointing to the doctor,
"It would be a lie, and I could not take it. You do not think me
qualified. I heard you say so. I do not want to be pitied. I do not
want a certificate because I am so young, and you think I'll feel
badly. I do not want--"
Her voice failed her, her bosom heaved, and the choking sobs came
thick and fast, but still she shed no tear, and in her bright, dry
eyes there was a look which made both those young men turn away
involuntarily. Once Guy tried to excuse her failure, saying she no
doubt was frightened. She would probably do better again, and might as
well accept the certificate, but Madeline still said no, so decidedly
that further remonstrance was useless. She would not take what she had
no right to, she said, but if they pleased she would wait there in the
back office until her grandfather came back; it would not be long, and
she should not trouble them.
Guy brought her the easy-chair from the front room and placed it for
her by the window. With a faint smile she thanked him and said: "You
are very kind," but the smile hurt Guy cruelly, it was so sad, so full
of unintentional reproach, while the eyes she lifted to his looked so
grieved and weary that he insensibly murmured to himself: "Poor
child!" as he left her, and with the doctor repaired to the house,
where Agnes was impatiently waiting for them. Poor, poor little Madge!
Let those smile who may at her distress; it was the first keen
disappointment she had ever had, and it crushed her as completely as
many an older person has been crushed by heavier calamities.
"Disgraced for ever and ever," she kept repeating to herself, as she
tried to shake off the horrid nightmare stealing over her. "How can I
hold up my head again at home where nobody will understand just how it
was; nobody but grandpa and grandma? Oh, grandpa, I can't earn that
thirty-six dollars now. I most wish I was dead, and I am--I am dying.
Somebody--come--quick!"
There was a heavy fall, and while in Mrs. Conner's parlor Guy
Remington and Dr. Holbrook were chatting gayly with Agnes, a childish
figure was lying upon the office floor, white, stiff, and insensible.
Little Jessie Remington, tired of sitting still and listening to what
her mamma and Mrs. Conner were saying, had strayed off into the
garden, and after filling her chubby hands with daffodils and early
violets, wended her way to the office, the door of which was partially
ajar. Peering curiously in, she saw the crumpled bonnet, with its
ribbons of blue, and, attracted by this, advanced into the room, until
she came where Madeline was lying. With a feeling that something was
wrong, Jessie bent over the prostrate girl, asking if she were asleep,
and lifting next the long, fringed lashes drooping on the colorless
cheek. The dull, dead expression of the eyes sent a chill through
Jessie's frame, and hurrying to the house she cried: "Oh, Brother Guy,
somebody's dead in the office, and her bonnet is all jammed!"