Musing #25 - "One Story a Week Challenge," Story 3

Hmm. . . which card shall it be today? Read the first paragraphs of the story (below) and take a guess :-). At the end of my post, I have the correct picture. Keep reading and see if your guess is right!

Rewind back two hundred years, to the early 1800's. Imagine a small but busy town, where, during the spring and summer, the sun never stops shining, and, during the fall and winter, the rain and snow never cease. 
Zoom into this town, to a blacksmith's tiny forge. If you stood outside the window of this forge, you'd hear the "bang-bang, bang-bang" of a hammer striking metal. You'd see much smoke and the cheerful face of a soot-dusted blacksmith. If you stepped inside, just for a moment, he'd set aside his work to engage in a friendly chat. And for sure you wouldn't leave before he said at least one word about his daughter.
Yes, sweet little Elsie - the blacksmith's daughter - is the focus of this story. Shy and quiet, with a beautiful crown of dark curls and a pair of the softest, purest hazel eyes, Elsie is the picture of her mother. Often the blacksmith takes her upon his lap and calls her "her mama's miniature." 

Having just turned six, Elsie plans to attend school in the fall, but for now she's needed around home. Her dear, dear mama is sick abed, and Elsie likes nothing better than to sit at her bedside, fanning her, holding her hand, and singing to her while Papa is away at work.

This story begins on a hot, muggy day in early August. Elsie has just finished dressing, and she runs to her papa for a good-bye kiss before he rushes off to work. He willingly bestows the caress, bids her to take care of Mama, and heads off, a cheerful whistle upon his lips.

Humming her own tune, Elsie takes a peek into the bedroom. Mama is sleeping, so the little girl decides to go ahead and eat her breakfast.

While Elsie was still munching her bread and jam, Mama's voice softly called her from the bedroom, "Elsie?"

 "Mama!" The girl leaped from her chair and rushed to the 
bedroom. "What is it, Mama?"

 "I believe that you need to ask Papa to send for the doctor," Mama answered
 Elsie felt her little face drain. The doctor? In her mind, the doctor was only called in on the most severe cases: like last year, when she'd had scarlet fever, or earlier on this year, when Dr. Lewis first came to see what was ailing Mama. Does this mean Mama is feeling worse? the child wondered, clasping her hands and giving her mother a fear-filled look.
 "Oh, darling, do not eye me so," Mama implored her, flashing a tiny yet genuine smile. Reaching out, she grasped her daughter's hand. "Everything is all right. I just feel that the doctor should be here. Now, go on, and ask Papa to fetch him for me."
  "Yes, Mama," the girl answered dutifully. "I'll go at once."
  "Afterwards," Mama continued, "run across the street and ask Grandmother to come over."
  "Why, Mama? To sit with me while the doctor is here?"
  "No, darling; Mama would like to talk with Grandmother for a while," Mama said. She pulled Elsie down and kissed her brow. "Now, no more questions. Do as Mama has bidden you, then spend the day over at your friend Charlotte's."
  "Yes, Mama." Elsie quickly returned her mother's kiss, then, letting go of her hand, raced on light feet to her father's work area.

  

 ***

  "What do you suppose is happening?" Charlotte Peters asked, as she again caught Elsie in the act of yanking aside the lace curtains and peering, with an anxious countenance, out the window.

  "I don't know," poor little Elsie sighed. She released the curtains and plopped to the ground beside Charlotte. "I wish - oh, how I wish - I knew."
  She turned her head in time to catch the twinkle in Charlotte's eye, and the secretive smile that tugged at her lips. Elsie was just about to ask her why she was looking at her so strangely, but just then Mrs. Peters announced, "Oh, yoo-hoo, Charlotte, Elsie, I have a pie fresh from the oven. You might want to come and have a slice before Mr. Peters and I eat it all."

***

  When Papa came for Elsie, she was ready to go. She greeted him with a happy smile and a warm kiss, inquiring, "How is Mama?" and hanging on tightly to his hand.

  "Mama is fine," her papa replied, smiling down upon her. "She has a special surprise for you."
  "A surprise?" Elsie's heart fluttered. "Like, a gift?"
  Papa chuckled and pressed her hand. "Yes, darling; just like a gift."
  Papa thanked the Peters' for their kind hospitality, accepted a pan of one of Mrs. Peters' good mince pies, and led Elsie home. She chattered all the way, telling Papa all about her visit, about the pie, and the pretty dollies she'd played with, and Mr. Peters' funny stories, and Mrs. Peters' newest batch of hens. 
  As they entered their house, Elsie slipped her hand from Papa's and skipped to the bedroom. She found Mama in bed, her face pale and tired but very, very happy.
  Elsie ran to her and kissed her cheek, then asked, "Oh, dearest Mama, are you very ill?" (For the sight of her mother's pale face had fully erased Papa's assurance from earlier.)
  "Yes, oh, yes, dear," Mama answered. "For look, look at the gift God has so graciously blessed your papa and you and me with." So saying, Mama drew back the blankets, revealing a tiny, red face. 
  "Mama!" Elsie gasped. "A baby!"
  Mama smiled, and Papa, who'd come up behind Elsie, chuckled. "Your little sister, Elsie," he said.
  "Oh, Mama! Oh, Papa!" Elsie touched the soft, dark wisps of hair that covered the baby's head. "Oh, please, may I kiss her?"
 Mama nodded, and Elsie gave one quick, gentle kiss to that sweet baby face. "I love her," she declared.
  Papa caressed Elsie's silky curls. "We had the smallest inkling that you would," he said, chuckling. "Now, dearest, give your mama one last kiss, and we shall leave her to get some rest. Then you can hold the new baby."

Thank you, Abby, from Little Birdie Blessings for the picture that inspired this story.

NOTE FROM AUTHOR TO READERS: Did you enjoy this story? Was Mama's "surprise"  a surprise to you? Do you think Charlotte and her family knew what was going on? What would you have named the baby? 
  

This photograph was taken only a couple weeks after the baby's birth. Originally, Elsie had the baby on her lap, but, before the photographer's camera actually snapped the picture, the baby became fussy and had to be carried away. Thus, Elsie took her special cat, Cinnamon, into her arms, and tied one of her hair ribbons around his neck just seconds before the camera went off.