Jack’s Hymn

CHAPTER III

JACK awoke very early in the morning after his supper in Doctor John’s den, and the music of the Easter hymn seemed still ringing in his ears. Soon after breakfast he went to the office. No one was there but Cassius, busily engaged in “shinin’ up” a whole case of already glittering instruments. “Where is Doctor John?” asked Jack, eagerly.

“Up in de ward, Mars’ Jack,” replied Cassius.

“When will he come back?”

“Dunno, little Mars’. Not fo’ chutch time, I reckon. He am pow’ful busy dis mawnin.” Jack looked so disappointed that kind- hearted Cassius inquired, as he carefully wiped off a keen-edged lancet, “Wot yo’ want honey? Mebbe ole Cass’ kin do it fur yo’.”

The pale little face lighted up again. “Oh, Cassius, please, please take me to the church, where—oh, you know what is there today, don’t you? The—the—oh, I forget— But I do want to go, please, Cassius—just this once.” The great brown eyes looked up imploringly. The small fingers clasped themselves around the big black hand, while the child waited breathlessly for a reply.

“Tek car’, dar, honey; dis knife’s sharper’n lighnin’. Yo’ cut yo’se’f, shore.”  The dangerous blade was carefully laid beyond reach. “Tek yo’ to de chutch, honey? De bit chutch ober yander? Um—um.”

Cassius, the faithful, devoted friend as well as the servant of Doctor John, knew something of the love which he felt for Jack and of the care which was taken of him, although, of course, he was ignorant of his malady. He now regarded the child keenly, and ready, with the true instinct of a sympathetic nature, the longing which swelled the little heart.

“Yo’ jes’ set down a minute, honey, outen de kurryder, ‘twell I goes up an’ ahsks Doctor John ef he kin spar’ me fum all this ob wuk; den we’ll be ‘bout it,” he said, at length.

He threw a light cloth over the table, carefully closed and locked the office door behind him, and trudged sedately away up the broad stairway, leaving Jack curled up on the low window seat, patiently awaiting his return.

It seemed to him a long time before he spied the shining, black face beaming upon him from a distance. He made his crutch fairly fly, as he hurried to learn the result of the interview.

“It’s all right, little Mars’. De doctor say dat we kin go, an’ he’ll kum, too, jes’ as soon as eber he kin.”

“Oh, thank you, Cassius, thank you ever so much,” cried Jack, overjoyed.

“And we will hear the music, won’t we? And see the flowers; I remember that the boys—”

“Now, honey, de doctor say speshul,” interrupted the old negro, “dat yo’ mustn’ talk none; dat I wuz to put yo’ on de sofy ‘twell I got de wuk don’.”

“Oh, not in the ‘den’ all alone, please, Cassius. Let me stay out here with you. I won’t touch a thing.”

Cassius laughed softly, showing every one of his white teeth. His eyes twinkled.

“Jes’ yo’ wait a minit, honey. Old Cass know how to fix yo’.”

He brought some pillows and a thick, soft blanket, and made a nest across one end of the great office table. There he lifted Jack and laid him in it.

“How yo’ like dat, little Mars’? T’ink yo’ kin fin’ de lan’ o’ Nod dat way?”

“It is as nice as can be. Now please hurry fast, Cassius, with the things. I’m going to watch you.”

He did for a short time; but presently Cassius, glancing at him, saw that the lids were closing over the eager eyes. The queer- shaped instruments were deftly handled, and it was not long before the last one had disappeared within its own particular case. Noiselessly Cassius put them all away; then he stood looking down at the quiet sleeper. “I suttenly does hate to wake dis baby up, he sleepin’ so sweet, jes’ like his own mammy watchin’ ober him stidder ole black Cass. But I don’ promise him.”

Very gently he took one of Jack’s hands in his broad palm.

“Honey, open yo’ eyes, now,” he said, softly, bending down quite near, “Open yo’ eyes an’ wek up. Don’ yo’ hear ole Cass’ callin’ yo’? Don’ yo’ hear de bells a-ringin’?” Jack stirred uneasily. He felt a touch on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Cassius standing beside him. At the same instant the church bells pealed forth their summons.

“Come,” cried the child, starting up— “Come, it is time for us to go.”

They walked slowly out through the hospital grounds and along the shady, quiet street which led to the church. They entered at a side-door and climbed a narrow stairway to a small side-gallery where Cassius was accustomed to sit.

Jack looked eagerly everywhere—at the beautiful stained-glass windows; at the memorial tablets; at the masses of exquisite flowers which filled the air with their perfume; at the people coming silently in.

Suddenly he heard the sound of faint, sweet music in the distance; nearer it came, clearer, stronger; the mellow tones of the organ joined softly in. Far down the dusky aisles he saw approaching the white-robed choirboys; the harmony swelled to richer fullness; in loud, triumphant strains, jubilant and joyful, they sang the glorious tidings—

“Christ the Lord is risen to-day.” Keenly, intently, Jack listened. With his whole soul in his eyes, he leaned forward, clasping his hands. Not a movement of the singer nor of the rector escaped him. The service went on. By and by he laid his head against Cassius’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Cassius, careful not to disturb him, made all the responses, and listened with devout attention to the reading of the lessons.

Again the tones of the organ, rich and deep, were heard. The boys stood up and began a hymn. Jack sprang from his seat; the restless, troubled look was gone from his face—a beautiful light shone on it. Leaning on his crutch, pale, fearless, he joined in the singing.

From above suddenly floated down to the wondering congregation the silvery, bird-like notes of a marvelous voice, pure and strong.  Of almost unearthly sweetness, with a strange, thrilling accent of rejoicing, it filled the place.  Looking upward, all eyes were fixed upon the radiant child. The hymn was ended; softly the organist played on.  Again Jack sang his Easter hymn, amid the breathless hush of the multitude.

At its close he saw Doctor John standing by his side. He sprang into the out-stretched arms, crying, joyously,

“Oh, Doctor John, I can remember now—I can remember now! Where is Mamma?”

When they were again sitting quietly in the “den,” Jack told the doctor of his pleasant home in the distant city—of his sister, his papa, and his mamma; of the journey East on which he had started with her; of his going to another part of the car and talking with a little boy there.

“He was traveling alone to Boston, Doctor John. He said he had no home, and was going to live with his uncle. I had just shown him my knife that Papa brought me from Russia, when all of a sudden I felt the car tipping over.  Something hit me on the head, and I didn’t know anything more about it until today.” Doctor John waited with intense impatience for a reply to the telegram he sent to Mr. John S. Hunter, No. 38 Winship Street, Toledo.  Was there really such a man, or was all that Jack had told him but the vagary of a diseased imagination? The time seemed endless until he read upon the yellow blank before him the words:

We leave at once. Expect us on 7 A.M. train, Monday.

JOHN S. HUNTER.

Seldom in his life had the young physician felt more deeply moved.  Without doubt, this mother who was coming was the very one of whom Mrs. Bernard had said, ‘She was nearly crazed with grief over the death of her only son.’ He realized that it was no slight thing for him to have a part in the restoration, as if from the dead, of a son like Jack.

The boy was, apparently, none the worse for this sudden return of his memory. Even the doctor’s observing eye could detect no sign of the reaction he had feared.

“Are you sure they’ll be here in the morning, Doctor John?” he asked, when he kissed him good night.

“Not sure, laddie, but almost so. Go to sleep now, quickly, so that Mamma will find a bright Jack waiting for her.”

“I’ll try, dear Doctor John,” putting his arm around his friend’s neck and hugging him close. “I love you next to Mamma, Papa, and Alice.”