There was almost no light in the darkened room except for a small, lit, veiled lamp on a bedside table. Charles, in his bed with his head propped up on pillows, opened his eyes to see his mother sitting in a chair at one side of the bed, looking very pale.
He turned to see his father standing at the other side, holding his arms behind his back, nervously shifting the weight of his tall slender frame first from one foot then to the other, looking pale, solemn and rather concerned.
Charles, peeking over the coverlet that was tucked under his chin, felt confused. He blinked his eyes and looked back to his mother, who was now regaining some of her color.
A gentle smile crept to his dry lips. His mother bent her head close to his and pressed her cool lips to his cheek and murmured, “Charles, Charles, my little boy,” as tears welled up in her eyes.
“There, there Old Girl, interjected Father in a strange kind of hoarse raspy voice, “Let’s have no more of this. Everything’s going to be all right now.”
The darkness of the room became illuminated by the first rays of the early morning light of dawn peeking through a small break in the draperies that did not quite keep their intended rendezvous, heralding the beginnings of what promised to be a very fine day.
“Mother,” spoke up Charles weakly, “I’m awfully thirsty–and hungry too. Do you think I might have my lunch now before I have my wash-up for supper?”
There was a relief of laughter! Charles turned to see Andrews, Mathilda, Alice, Marie and Cholly, Jock and Germaine all standing in the hall peeking through the doorway. Mathilda, the cook, was wiping her eyes with her apron and old Cholly was blowing his nose in his big red handkerchief. At a signal from Mathilda, Alice flew away down the hall, reappearing minutes later carrying a tray.
The draperies were thrown wide and there before the casement windows, in a contrasting blinding light, a touching scene told of the intense drama that had unfolded during the long hours of a nighttime vigil at the bedside of a very small boy.
While Charles was nibbling biscuits and sipping pearl tea, his father, with his pale face now slowly regaining some color, looked quite serious. Pulling a chair up alongside Charles’ bed, he sat down before speaking.
“By the way, Old Man, afraid we’re going to have to postpone your induction into military academy for another year or so. You see, Son, your mother. . .” hesitating, “and I too, of course, are going to need your help here on the home front. You see, my boy. . . ah, ahem, uh. . . cough, cough, uh. . . .she, that is, your mother is,. . .uhh. . .”
Charles’ mother, coming to his father’s rescue, said, “What your father is trying to tell you, Charles dear, is that you’re going to get a little brother or sister next year and we will need you here at home a little while longer.”
Charles’ face lit up with pleasure. He smiled as he looked from his mother to his father and piped up, “It’ll be a little sister. . . . just like Bobby’s!” Again, from out in the hallway came happy peals of laughter.
As a window was thrown wide, the early morning music of a songbird filled the room. A gentle breeze wafted through the fluttering lace curtains that filtered the morning’s first rays of sunlight. What a happy and glorious day this promised to be!
