"THE SONG OF THE LARK" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cather Willa Sibert)

When she heard the front door open, it occurred to her
that the pleasant thing which was going to happen was
Dr. Archie himself. He came in and warmed his hands at
the stove. As he turned to her, she threw herself wearily
toward him, half out of her bed. She would have tumbled
to the floor had he not caught her. He gave her some medi-
cine and went to the kitchen for something he needed. She
drowsed and lost the sense of his being there. When she
opened her eyes again, he was kneeling before the stove,
spreading something dark and sticky on a white cloth, with
a big spoon; batter, perhaps. Presently she felt him taking
off her nightgown. He wrapped the hot plaster about her
chest. There seemed to be straps which he pinned over her
shoulders. Then he took out a thread and needle and be-
gan to sew her up in it. That, she felt, was too strange;
she must be dreaming anyhow, so she succumbed to her
drowsiness.

Thea had been moaning with every breath since the
doctor came back, but she did not know it. She did not
realize that she was suffering pain. When she was con-
scious at all, she seemed to be separated from her body; to
be perched on top of the piano, or on the hanging lamp,
watching the doctor sew her up. It was perplexing and
unsatisfactory, like dreaming. She wished she could waken
up and see what was going on.

The doctor thanked God that he had persuaded Peter
Kronborg to keep out of the way. He could do better by
the child if he had her to himself. He had no children of his
own. His marriage was a very unhappy one. As he lifted
and undressed Thea, he thought to himself what a beauti-

ful thing a little girl's body was,--like a flower. It was
so neatly and delicately fashioned, so soft, and so milky
white. Thea must have got her hair and her silky skin from
her mother. She was a little Swede, through and through.
Dr. Archie could not help thinking how he would cherish
a little creature like this if she were his. Her hands, so lit-
tle and hot, so clever, too,--he glanced at the open exer-
cise book on the piano. When he had stitched up the flax-
seed jacket, he wiped it neatly about the edges, where the
paste had worked out on the skin. He put on her the clean
nightgown he had warmed before the fire, and tucked the
blankets about her. As he pushed back the hair that had
fuzzed down over her eyebrows, he felt her head thought-
fully with the tips of his fingers. No, he couldn't say
that it was different from any other child's head, though