Read Online (5/20)Over the Gate by Miss Read - Free Book Online
Authors: Miss Read
Tags: Historical
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had started school and Bertha was free to attend to her neighbour when she felt the onset of birth pangs. Polly was unduly fearful, clinging to Bertha in much agitation.
'Don't 'ee leave me till Mrs Drew comes!' she begged, naming the local midwife.
'Don't fret,' answered Bertha soothingly. Til stay with you; but I think you'd be better upstairs.'
'No, no,' responded Polly. Til walk about down here and get Mike's dinner ready atween whiles. Keeps my mind off it a bit, to have summat to do.'
Bertha saw the sense in this and did not press the matter. She was greatly relieved, though, when the midwife came and hustled her patient upstairs.
The baby was a long time arriving. Bertha and Leslie could hear muffled activity in the bedroom next door to their own.
'I do feel downright sorry for Polly,' murmured Bertha, the memory of her own experiences still fresh in her mind. 'It must be over soon, that's one comfort.'
But the baby had not arrived when the Fosters rose next morning. Mike came round, haggard and unshaven, to ask Leslie to take a message to the farm.
'She's about all in,' he said. 'By George, that's the last baby we're having. Never thought it'd be such a set-to.'
Bertha and Leslie made light of it, teasing him, but he was too tired to appreciate badinage, and returned moodily to his home.
At midday the child was born. The midwife called in to tell Bertha it was a girl.
'They're both asleep, and can do with it,' declared the old woman who had brought half Fairacre into the world.
'I'll look in tomorrow,' promised Bertha, 'when she's feeling better.'
The next morning, a posy in her hand for Polly and a freshly-made pie for Mike's supper in her basket, Bertha went next door. She called, but there was no reply. She mounted the stairs and gently pushed open the bedroom door.
What Bertha saw, before the opening had widened enough to include a view of mother and child, made her grip the posy in a furiously clenched fist. For there, beside the bed, stood a cradle which was the replica of her own, even to a splendid pink satin bow.
Bertha swallowed her rage and tiptoed into the bedroom. The creaking of the old boards awakened Polly.
'Oh Bertha!' she said, with such affection and relief, that Bertha's anger melted. "Tis lovely to see you. Take a peep at the baby. Fancy me having a girl, just like you!'
Bertha could have said that it caused her no surprise, but this was hardly the time to be so uncharitable. In any case, the new-born infant quite won her heart with its red puckered face, cobwebby black hair and skinny fingers.
'Ain't she a real beauty!' she exclaimed with sincerity. A thought struck her.
'What are you going to call her?'
'Mildred,' replied the mother. 'It begins with M, just like yourn.'
Bertha was thankful that the child was not to be another Maria, and turning her eyes from the ribbons and flounces of the hated cradle, she settled the posy in water, made Polly some tea, reiterated her congratulations and returned next door.
Billy arrived home from school and was told the news. He took it stolidly. Babies did not mean much to Billy. If anything, he disapproved of them. They drew attention to themselves, he knew, to the detriment of their older brothers' welfare. But he brightened at the thought of telling Miss Clare, his teacher, all about it when he went to school next morning.
Miss Clare was as impressed with the news as he had hoped she would be, but Billy's eyes did not miss the flicker of amusement which crossed her kind face when he said:
'And it's a girl! Just like ourn!'
At playtime Miss Clare told the news to Mr Benson, the headmaster. In common with the rest of Fairacre, he had watched the doings of the pair of cottages with amusement and considerable sympathy for the much-tried Bertha Foster.
'Isn't that typical?' he commented. 'Poor Mrs Foster! I wonder what Polly will call it. Maria, no doubt, and it will have an identical pram.'
The village hummed with the news.
'Give
'Don't 'ee leave me till Mrs Drew comes!' she begged, naming the local midwife.
'Don't fret,' answered Bertha soothingly. Til stay with you; but I think you'd be better upstairs.'
'No, no,' responded Polly. Til walk about down here and get Mike's dinner ready atween whiles. Keeps my mind off it a bit, to have summat to do.'
Bertha saw the sense in this and did not press the matter. She was greatly relieved, though, when the midwife came and hustled her patient upstairs.
The baby was a long time arriving. Bertha and Leslie could hear muffled activity in the bedroom next door to their own.
'I do feel downright sorry for Polly,' murmured Bertha, the memory of her own experiences still fresh in her mind. 'It must be over soon, that's one comfort.'
But the baby had not arrived when the Fosters rose next morning. Mike came round, haggard and unshaven, to ask Leslie to take a message to the farm.
'She's about all in,' he said. 'By George, that's the last baby we're having. Never thought it'd be such a set-to.'
Bertha and Leslie made light of it, teasing him, but he was too tired to appreciate badinage, and returned moodily to his home.
At midday the child was born. The midwife called in to tell Bertha it was a girl.
'They're both asleep, and can do with it,' declared the old woman who had brought half Fairacre into the world.
'I'll look in tomorrow,' promised Bertha, 'when she's feeling better.'
The next morning, a posy in her hand for Polly and a freshly-made pie for Mike's supper in her basket, Bertha went next door. She called, but there was no reply. She mounted the stairs and gently pushed open the bedroom door.
What Bertha saw, before the opening had widened enough to include a view of mother and child, made her grip the posy in a furiously clenched fist. For there, beside the bed, stood a cradle which was the replica of her own, even to a splendid pink satin bow.
Bertha swallowed her rage and tiptoed into the bedroom. The creaking of the old boards awakened Polly.
'Oh Bertha!' she said, with such affection and relief, that Bertha's anger melted. "Tis lovely to see you. Take a peep at the baby. Fancy me having a girl, just like you!'
Bertha could have said that it caused her no surprise, but this was hardly the time to be so uncharitable. In any case, the new-born infant quite won her heart with its red puckered face, cobwebby black hair and skinny fingers.
'Ain't she a real beauty!' she exclaimed with sincerity. A thought struck her.
'What are you going to call her?'
'Mildred,' replied the mother. 'It begins with M, just like yourn.'
Bertha was thankful that the child was not to be another Maria, and turning her eyes from the ribbons and flounces of the hated cradle, she settled the posy in water, made Polly some tea, reiterated her congratulations and returned next door.
Billy arrived home from school and was told the news. He took it stolidly. Babies did not mean much to Billy. If anything, he disapproved of them. They drew attention to themselves, he knew, to the detriment of their older brothers' welfare. But he brightened at the thought of telling Miss Clare, his teacher, all about it when he went to school next morning.
Miss Clare was as impressed with the news as he had hoped she would be, but Billy's eyes did not miss the flicker of amusement which crossed her kind face when he said:
'And it's a girl! Just like ourn!'
At playtime Miss Clare told the news to Mr Benson, the headmaster. In common with the rest of Fairacre, he had watched the doings of the pair of cottages with amusement and considerable sympathy for the much-tried Bertha Foster.
'Isn't that typical?' he commented. 'Poor Mrs Foster! I wonder what Polly will call it. Maria, no doubt, and it will have an identical pram.'
The village hummed with the news.
'Give
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