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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18434-h.zip b/18434-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad99e95 --- /dev/null +++ b/18434-h.zip diff --git a/18434-h/18434-h.htm b/18434-h/18434-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6f3bdc --- /dev/null +++ b/18434-h/18434-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3147 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Melody in Silver, by Keene Abbott + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + H1 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + H5,H6 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + H2 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */ + } + H3 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */ + } + H4 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + } + a {text-decoration: none} /* no lines under links */ + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + ul {list-style-type: none} /* no bullets on lists */ + + .cen {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} /* centering paragraphs */ + .sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} /* small caps, normal size */ + .noin {text-indent: 0em;} /* no indenting */ + .hang {text-indent: -.5em;} /* hanging indents */ + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .block {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} /* block indent */ + .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} /* right aligning paragraphs */ + .totoc {position: absolute; right: 2%; font-size: 75%; text-align: right;} /* Table of contents anchor */ + .totoi {position: absolute; right: 2%; font-size: 75%; text-align: right;} /* to Table of Illustrations link */ + .img {text-align: center; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} /* centering images */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: smaller; float: right; clear: right;} + .tdr {text-align: right; padding-right: .5em;} /* aligning cell content to the right */ + .tdc {text-align: center;} /* aligning cell content to the center */ + .tdl {text-align: left;} /* aligning cell content to the left */ + .tdlsc {text-align: left; font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} /* aligning cell content and small caps */ + .tdrsc {text-align: right; font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} /* aligning cell content and small caps */ + .tdcsc {text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} /* aligning cell content and small caps */ + .tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 1em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} /* transcriber's notes */ + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; right: 2%; font-size: 75%; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 90%;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: text-top; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Melody in Silver, by Keene Abbott + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Melody in Silver + +Author: Keene Abbott + +Release Date: May 22, 2006 [EBook #18434] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MELODY IN SILVER *** + + + + +Produced by Jeannie Howse, Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<h1>A MELODY IN SILVER</h1> + +<br /> + +<h2>By KEENE ABBOTT</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"> +<img border="0" src="images/deco.png" alt="decoration" /> +</div> + +<br /> + +<h5>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +The Riverside Press Cambridge<br /> +1911</h5> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + + +<h5>COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY KEENE ABBOTT<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +<i>Published April 1911</i></h5> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="toc" id="toc"></a><hr /> +<br /> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<br /> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="80%" summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <td width="8%" class="tdr">I.</td> + <td width="84%" class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">The Lost Cause</a></td> + <td width="8%" class="tdr">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">I.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Rue and Rosemary</a></td> + <td class="tdr">14</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">III.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">The World's End</a></td> + <td class="tdr">20</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IV.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Dead Sea Fruit</a></td> + <td class="tdr">30</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">V.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">The Mug of Woe</a></td> + <td class="tdr">43</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VI.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">"Fav-ver"</a></td> + <td class="tdr">52</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">As a Fountain in the Desert</a></td> + <td class="tdr">66</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The Gone-away Lady</a></td> + <td class="tdr">75</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IX.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">The Crime of David</a></td> + <td class="tdr">86</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">X.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">The Nip of Guilt</a></td> + <td class="tdr">97</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XI.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Apotheosis</a></td> + <td class="tdr">104</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Light</a></td> + <td class="tdr">113</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">The Substitute</a></td> + <td class="tdr">125</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Sky Blossoms</a></td> + <td class="tdr">142</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span><br /> + +<h2>A MELODY IN SILVER</h2> + + +<h3>CHAPTER I<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THE LOST CAUSE</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/d1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="D" style="margin-right: .75em;" />avid had a suspicion. He did not know it was that, but that is +what it was. He suspected that Mother thought he was a good +little boy, and he suspected that she thought Mitchell Horrigan +was a bad little boy. Perhaps Mother had a suspicion, too; she +might have suspected that it was Mitch who had put a certain +notion into David's head—a notion which had to do with pants. +Only you must not call them pants; they are "trouvers."</p> + +<p>But it doesn't really matter in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>least what they are called. Mitch had +them. He also had the measles once. +David did not know whether it was the +measles part or the pants part that made +Mitch a bad little boy. All David knew +about it was that if he invited Mitch into +the yard to climb trees and give swimming +lessons in the high grass, it usually +happened that Mother could think of +some important business for her little +boy to do in the house. It was surprising +how many important matters there +were for David to do in the house every +time Mitch came into the yard to play. +She might want to show him something, +and perhaps it would be a turn-over that +she wanted to show him, a delicious +little half-grown pie stuffed with strawberries +or with cherries. + +If Mitch were waiting out under the +trees, the toothsome bit of pastry was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>always a very peculiar kind. Mother believed +in generosity, but generosity with +limitations. Strawberry turn-over was +not good for Mitch. Mother was positive +that it was not good for him. That +seemed a little singular to David, for he +had never noticed anything wrong with +Mitch. It does not seem credible that a +boy who owns a real Indian bow 'n' arrow, +which shoots so high he can knock the +eye out of an angel with it, should yet +be so foolish as to have a bad stomach. + +David had never seen any of the one-eyed +angels that Mitch had knocked +down out of heaven with his Indian +bow 'n' arrow. Mitch was not the kind +to show all of his treasures. He didn't +even show his bow 'n' arrow. He kept it +hid, so that if the police ever found out +about it they could not get it away from +him. If they wanted to arrest him for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>having it, that would be all +right, but they should not get hold of his Indian bow 'n' arrow.</p> + +<p>The thing you liked about Mitch was that he was so reasonable. +One's faith in him would never be shaken unless one were to try +his recipe for getting trouvers. In theory it was a sound recipe. +Mitch, who had reached trouvers and understood the mightiness of +the achievement, could vouch for the sure result of his +prescription. It was guaranteed to cure the dress-habit in seven +days. At first, though, Mitch would not tell how the great honor +of pants had been bestowed upon him. He was then too important +even to say, "Hello, kid!" For a time he did not deign to notice +anybody, and when he did notice anybody it was only to pretend +that David was nothing but a little girl.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>"I am not, neither."</p> + +<p>David filed his protest between the palings of the fence. But it +was no use. He might protest, he might cross his heart and hope +to die, but still the boy on the other side of the fence would +not believe.</p> + +<p>"Are, too," Mitch would say.</p> + +<p>Then a startled look, an appealing, hopeless fear suddenly +abashed the little boy in the dainty white dress. As he shook the +ringlets out of his eyes he asked, earnestly:</p> + +<p>"Why, then, am I a girl?"</p> + +<p>Here, you see, was another case like the bow 'n' arrow. Mitch did +not have to tell all he knew. He only got proud and spat through +his teeth and said, "Why?" right back at David.</p> + +<p>Such a question, you must agree, may be illuminating, but is not +satisfying. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>The meaning of it seems a bit indefinite and +lonesome, but if you are a little boy with ringlets it has +meaning enough. It hurts mightily. But Mitch was still not +satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Dear Little Curly Locks," he said with contemptible sweetness, +"oo mustn't get oo dress dirty."</p> + +<p>Then did David's fists clench defiantly, and he said an awful +swear.</p> + +<p>"Dresses!" he exclaimed derisively; "that's all you know about +it. They're kilts!"</p> + +<p>This defense was not convincing, for there is no good way, once +you think of it, to prove that a dress is a dress and that a kilt +is a kilt. The only way, I fear, to settle such a controversy is +to hit the other boy with a brick. Only David did not have a +brick. What he did have was a confused feeling that Mitch was +right. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>For might it not be true, this horrible thing about being +a girl? What if David was that, and couldn't ever get over it?</p> + +<p>Now, Mitch, since you are at last in trouvers, here is the time +to prove to this ignominious comrade of yours that in you are the +instincts of a gentleman. Why don't you show David that there may +be a chance for him after all? It would be proper for you to +remind him that you yourself used to wear dresses, but of course +you will make sure to speak of the disgrace as a thing of many +years ago.</p> + +<p>But there is no need, Mitch, in counseling David to go to +extremes. It is quite unnecessary to inform him that the way to +pants is a very simple matter. I dread to think that you are +telling him to tear his kilts "all to splinters." Of course that +can be done. You hook <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>the skirt over a paling in the fence; then +you jump, and sometimes, David, it hurts when you hit the ground. +But what matter? You are fighting in a noble cause. Mother will +be so astonished! She will see how desperately you have outgrown +your kilts.</p> + +<p>Only she did not see it. She picked the splinters out of David's +hands—cruel splinters from the fence—and she was very sorry for +her little boy. And as for the dresses, it was no great matter +about them. She would make other dresses for her David.</p> + +<p>And that is why Mitchell Horrigan's recipe for pants is not a +good recipe. Even at the end of a week David could not report +much progress. Finally he had to acknowledge himself defeated. He +then bore the dishonor of kilts with what manfulness he could and +with a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>creed which was recited something like this:</p> + +<p>"We don't care to play with Mitch any more, do we, Mother?"</p> + +<p>Or again:</p> + +<p>"We don't care nothing about trouvers, do we, Mother?"</p> + +<p>Sometimes David would ask with husky heroism:</p> + +<p>"Curls is all right for little boys, is they not?"</p> + +<p>David was angry with Mitch; David was never going to speak to +Mitchell Horrigan any more. His resolution was so strong that he +hurried away to tell Mitch about it, but when the boy actually +appeared, it was hard to remember why one should be angry with +him. His brown feet came flapping along the stone walk, and in +his hand was a freshly whittled stick that made an animated +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>clatter when he drew it along the fence. There was that in the +reckless abandonment of Mitch which did not help David to tell +him that he was too mean and disgraceful to be spoken to. And +besides, his feelings might be hurt if one were to tell him that. +So, as Mitch came nearer and nearer, David felt guiltier and +guiltier, and presently he was surprised to hear himself asking +rather abjectly:</p> + +<p>"You isn't mad at me, is you, Mitch?"</p> + +<p>Trouvers ignored the humble salutation. He took out his knife and +began to whittle ceremoniously upon the stick.</p> + +<p>"What you making?" David asked tentatively.</p> + +<p>"Nothin' much," said Mitch, with the air of a man who has +invented steamships and flying machines. "Only a tiger trap."</p> + +<p>David knew better. David knew that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>Mitch, in his insufferable +conceit, was merely whittling to show off his new knife. So, +pressing his red mouth between two white palings of the fence, +David declared in a strong voice:</p> + +<p>"I have a bigger knife than that."</p> + +<p>The assertion was boldly made, but when Mitch asked to see the +knife, David decided not to show it.</p> + +<p>"Bigness don't count," said Mitch. "It's the steel."</p> + +<p>He breathed upon the blade to test its quality. Every boy knows +that if the film of moisture is quick to vanish, there can be no +question about the superlative merit of the knife.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get it?"</p> + +<p>David was eager to know that, but Mitch decided that he must be +going. He hadn't time to stay here any longer. He intimated that +he had important <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>business to look after. He was going to make a +kite ten feet tall, and, with the snobbishness of a plutocrat, he +went strutting away. He was almost beyond earshot when he +volunteered this brief information:</p> + +<p>"My father, he guv it to me."</p> + +<p>Had David heard correctly? Did Mitch say "father"? The little boy +had never thought of such an article as a father except as +something which belongs to a story book. Fathers were common +enough in the story books; they were men, but until this moment +David had never thought of them as being desirable. It now +appeared that they were good for something. Mitch Horrigan had +one. He actually kept a father, and the father gave him fine +presents.</p> + +<p>Reflecting upon all this, David <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>became a very quiet little boy. +There seemed to be nothing interesting for him to do. He had no +appetite for supper, and in his face was the look of one who +dreams of such mighty things as trouvers, and a hair-cut, and a +brand-new knife. And when, at last, it came time to kiss Mother +good-night, he turned appealing eyes upon her, and asked with +trembling lips:</p> + +<p>"Why don't <i>I</i> never have no fav-ver?"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER II<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>RUE AND ROSEMARY</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/t1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="T" style="margin-right: .75em;" />hey are not easy to take, siestas aren't. They are the word for +going to sleep in the daytime when you would rather not. +Sometimes you have to take medicine with them, and nearly always +you feel that you must have a drink of milk. It is so easy to +discover that you are thirsty, and besides, it usually gives you +a chance to stay awake a little while longer. Frequently you find +that you don't care as much for the milk as you thought you did, +but in one way there is always a satisfaction in it. If you have +a looking-glass, you can see the white mustache the drink has +left on your lip. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>Another satisfaction is that if Mother forgets +to bring your milk in the mug you like best, you can send her +right back for it.</p> + +<p>If David wants to be particularly polite he sometimes asks Mother +to tell him her story about the young man with the mustache. She +has one that is tremendous dull because there are so many +thinking places in it. "And then—and then—" Mother will say, +and after that the story doesn't get on worth anything. The worst +about it is that it always takes such a long while for her to +reach the part which tells of the time when the young man started +to raise a mustache.</p> + +<p>"How did he start?" David never fails to ask.</p> + +<p>"By not shaving his lip."</p> + +<p>It is now that David feels of his white <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>lip with the tip of his +red tongue and then stoutly declares:</p> + +<p>"I have not shaved <i>my</i> lip."</p> + +<p>"It was brown, like your hair," says Mother, "and when it was +about half-grown it began to curl up at the ends. The boys made +fun of it, but it was very beautiful and ever so soft and fine."</p> + +<p>"Truly, was it?" asks David, and then something blooms pink in +Mother's cheeks. That is the one interesting thing about her +story, and up to that point he can always stand her narrative very +well; for he is always watching for the pretty pinkness. But when +that is gone, his interest goes too. It seems very ordinary to him +that this young man should have studied mechanics and become a +great engineer and invented things, and made discoveries.</p> + +<p>Now, if he had ever been shipwrecked, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>or if he had ever been +eaten up by bears, or if he had fought Indians, or done some +other notable thing with a scare in it, why, <i>that</i> would be +worth talking about. But why tell so much about a young man who +had done none of these things? Why speak of the way she had +encouraged him and helped him and studied with him? You can see +for yourself that it was a very stupid tale.</p> + +<p>It was clever of David, though, to have her tell him the story, +for then she would sometimes forget that her little boy was not +having his siesta. To show her that he was trying to keep up an +interest he would now and then ask a question, as, for example, +when she spoke of the honors the young man had won at college.</p> + +<p>"Could he spit through his teeth?" David would inquire, and it +was always <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>a sad thing to him that this was not one of the young +man's accomplishments. A very disappointing chap, to be sure.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, my little boy," Mother would say in a strange, soft +voice, "do you know that your eyes are as bright as his eyes used +to be, and that—"</p> + +<p>"It's a nice story," David would say courageously, and like as +not, while Mother was still talking about the handsome young man +with the mustache, her little boy would fall fast asleep.</p> + +<p>It is good, David, that you do not hear the story that is hid +away in the thinking places; it is good that you do not know the +worn look which sometimes comes into Mother's face and crowds +from it all the pretty pinkness that you love to see. You will +never know that other look which was often in Mother's face +before you came to nestle <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>in her arms and frighten it away. You +have done well, brave soldier-man, for now I am right sure she +does not wonder any more why the day should have come when the +one she had helped so much should have forgotten the help and +been thankless for all the love that she had given him.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER III<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THE WORLD'S END</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/s1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="S" style="margin-right: .75em;" />ometimes, when David was working hard on his siesta, Mother +would tell him that he was to whistle as soon as the Sand Man +came. But even that doesn't always help. You have to ask so many +times to make sure that the Sand Man <i>hasn't</i> come, and after you +have been told repeatedly that you are not yet asleep it makes +you discouraged. You know, too, that you mustn't cheat; it's not +fair to whistle until you actually see the Sand Man.</p> + +<p>Hardly anything is so wearing on a little boy as to wait. This is +especially true of siesta-time, when there are always <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>such a +number of interesting things going on outside. Through the +shutter's chink the yellow sunshine comes squirting into the +room—such amazing sunshine, just as it is on circus day! Only to +think of what great events must be in progress while you and +Mother lie here together in the darkened room, and toss +hopelessly in the dreadful throes of trying to get through with +your siesta!</p> + +<p>One of the mean things about it is that neither side of the +pillow has any cool spot. You turn it over once more and once +more, and yet once more again, but it is no use. It is utterly +impossible to cuddle down and obey orders and go to sleep like a +brave soldier-man. The more you try it the more squirmy and itchy +you feel; for at such a time one is usually fretted by the +repeated ticklings of some bothersome fly. He will sneak <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>along +the edge of the pillow and rub his hands together in front of +him, and then he's ready. Down he swoops upon your nose, hitting +it precisely in the same place where he lit before.</p> + +<p>It is easy for Mother to say, "Go to sleep, now," but what bad +shift a little boy will sometimes make of his siesta!</p> + +<p>There came a day in June when David believed he never in this +world could get through with it. He heard the chuck and drowsy +clack of the sprinkling-wagon as it ponderously advanced upon its +lazy way; he heard the almost whispered clucking of a mother-hen +who was calling her chicks to come shuffle with her in the cool +loose earth under the shade of the crooked old apple-tree, and +presently there came a time when the out-of-doors was all so +still that even the falling of a shadow would have made a sound.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>David was right sure of that. There was such mystery, such an +unwonted sense of unreality a-quiver in this silence, that he +wanted, very much, to learn what it was all about. Then, ever and +ever so cautiously, he slipped down off the bed. His dimpled toes +went patting daintily across the polished floor, and presently he +had stolen forth upon a great adventure. His eyes narrowed; he +winked rapidly; so dazed he was with the sunshine and the +strangeness of a world that had never looked like this before.</p> + +<p>He had found out where summer is. It was here in Mother's garden, +and you knew it was, for you could feel it in the stillness, and +you could see it in the sleepiness of blossoms that drowsed and +drooped and hung their lazy heads in the languishing sweetness of +good air <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>and golden sunshine. It was all very strange and very +dear to David. The sky had never before been so blue, and never +so big nor deep nor cool, and the ground was pleasantly warm and +nice. As the seeded grass touched his ankles he could feel warm +shivers run over his legs, delightful thrills which came to him +this day for the first time. He had found out where summer is.</p> + +<p>David paused, and listened, and heard nothing. The whole world +was listening. By and by a honey-burdened bumblebee began talking +to himself; you couldn't quite understand what he said because he +mumbled and bumbled so. David knew he was such a very tired and +sleepy bumblebee that nobody could understand what he was talking +about; and besides, he wasn't nearly so wonderful as a big +butterfly that balanced <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>with blazing wings upon a nodding rose.</p> + +<p>He was too heavy for the wee, sweet flower. David was right sure +the butterfly should have rested less heavily there, for pretty +soon the bonnie bloom came all apart and began to fall. One after +another the crimson petals slipped away, and dipped and floated +and came falling and falling down. David was confident that he +could hear the warm whisper of them as they fell, so in tune he +was with the summer and the sunshine, out here in Mother's +garden.</p> + +<p>It was good he had stolen forth into the ardent glory of the +noon-time, for if he had not he never would have learned about +the place where the world stops. Only a few of us have found out +about that place. You don't think about it at all, and then, +pretty soon, you <i>do</i> think <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>about it. The way David learned of +it was a new way. He laid him down upon the petunia bed—dear, +old-fashioned flowers, lavender and pink and white, that peeped +between the palings of the white fence—he laid him down and +smelled deep the good, queer smell of them, and like the flowers +themselves, he, too, peeped between the bars into the vast world +which lay beyond. And that is how he learned of the place where +the world stops.</p> + +<p>Down a long, long lane—down there, a little way past the +cottonwood tree, where the lane quits going on, that is where the +world stops. You know that is the place because of the awesomeness +that comes to you. The old cottonwood stands sentinel over that +region of the Great Beyond. So tall and big and still he is that +if you look at him awhile <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>you will get the strange feeling of +things. High up in the glossy leaves one can sometimes hear a +little pattery sound, finer than the crinkle of tissue paper—a +pretty little sound like a quiet sprinkle of cooling rain. When he +does that he is whispering to the clouds that bring the freshness +of the summer shower.</p> + +<p>Beyond him, down there where the world stops, is the place where +the clouds go to sleep after their long, slow journeyings across +the deep, sweet blue of the sky.</p> + +<p>"What does my little boy see with his two big, shining eyes? And +what does my little boy hear?"</p> + +<p>It was Mother's voice above him that was thus humbly asking +admission into the strange world he had found, and so well she +knew it was marvelous fine, this world of his, that she snuggled +his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>cheek against <i>her</i> cheek, and tried and tried, in her poor, +grown-up way, to understand all the pretty things the great +silent tree was whispering to the clouds.</p> + +<p>"Is it there?" she asked very softly and very earnestly. "Is it +down there that the clouds go to sleep?"</p> + +<p>And they remained together, these two, side by side, thinking +about the sweet go-to-bed place of the clouds. A silence which +was new to them, a cool and reposeful silence, had come upon them +and held them. They were conversing in a language which has no +words. It was a melody in silver—the spirit of motherhood, the +soul of childhood blending into music, bringing them nearer, +deepening their love and making it more dear to them.</p> + +<p>They understood each other, that woman and that little boy. They +did not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>move. David had taken hold of Mother's hand, and he held +to it while they kept on looking down there, afar off, where the +great silent tree was softly whispering to the summer clouds.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>DEAD SEA FRUIT</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/w1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="W" style="margin-right: .75em;" />hy don't I never have no fav-ver?"</p> + +<p class="noin">Often David asked that question; upon awakening and upon going to +bed he was pretty sure to make inquiries that were never +satisfactorily answered. And now, one morning, it was a decided +relief to Mother to have him ask something else. With eager +questioning he said:</p> + +<p class="noin">"Am I?"</p> + +<p>Early, very early, he had awakened her to ask her that, for he +had been told, on going to bed, that when the day should come +again he would be four years old. Twice in the night he had +asked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>if he was It; so when the dawn at last showed with a +lovely pinkness in the lacy folds of the curtains, and the note +of a far-away meadow-lark called him into the glory of birthday +happiness, he wanted to be very certain that this famous period +of his life had actually come.</p> + +<p>Before demanding if it were quite true, he lay still awhile and +thought about it. He looked at Mother's face, and snuggled his +fingers into the fairy foam of her nightgown, but the face and +the fairy foam at her throat had not changed in the least. They +were just the same as they had been yesterday and the day before +and the day before that.</p> + +<p>It was very strange. He had supposed that when a little boy is +four years old, his life would be somehow—different. That is why +he was still in doubt; he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>was not at all sure about being four +years old. He would wake up Mother and then, if he <i>was</i> It, she +would make him feel that he was.</p> + +<p>Her reassurance, though, was not nearly so satisfying as he had +hoped.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear; it's your birthday. Now go to sleep awhile, my +pretty."</p> + +<p>David lay very still, but he did not go to sleep. By and by he +asked rather uneasily:</p> + +<p>"What do you do first?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, little boy?"</p> + +<p>"Little? <i>Am</i> I little?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you're growing," Mother told him.</p> + +<p>But David would not be deceived. Already the suspicion had come +to him that there was nothing grand about being four years old. +It was not a success; it was a failure, and his one hope now +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>rested in Dr. Redfield, for this was the morning when the Doctor +had promised to waylay the little boy.</p> + +<p>"How does <i>that</i> begin?" David asked. He could not think what it +was that began.</p> + +<p>"How does <i>what</i> begin?" Mother inquired.</p> + +<p>And that was not nice nor reasonable of her. Mothers are made to +answer questions, not to ask questions, and they are so +discouraging when they can't understand about being waylaid! +David felt abused, but he decided to have one more try at her. +Then, if she didn't give him satisfaction, he would know that +Four Years Old was all a humbug. As he looked longingly into her +face, his words faltered, as though he were again expecting +disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Will he—will he wear his big, shiny hat when he does it?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>Into Mother's face came a puzzled, half knowing look. She +recalled the admiration inspired in a certain little boy by a +certain abominable top hat that a certain doctor had once worn to +a certain annual meeting of the State Medical Society. But this +was the extent of her knowledge.</p> + +<p>"When he does what?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The little boy's lip trembled, and he turned away his face. He +saw it wasn't any use. Mother didn't understand; she evidently +hadn't tried. It was plain that he was not four years old; he was +only three. It is very hard on little boys to be only that old +when they have made up their minds to be four. So, when David was +being dressed, he suffered all the while with a severe case of +what is commonly called pouts, but which in reality is something +much sadder.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>"My, my!" said Mother, as she drew a stocking over the pink toes +of his right foot, "one mustn't look like that on his birthday."</p> + +<p>"It is not my birthday," he said, not impertinently, but politely +and woefully.</p> + +<p>Even a pair of new shoes did not prove that this was his +birthday, and yet they helped to prove it. One gets them at such +times as Christmas and birthdays, and such a delightful squeak +was in these shoes that David could scarcely eat his breakfast +for wanting to walk about in them. If a circus should come to +town, he would now be ready for it; he had the shoes. And +besides, there were tassels on them—wonderful tassels. It is +much easier to be a brave soldier-man if they have tassels.</p> + +<p>Do you know what it is to be a brave soldier-man? Well, to be +that, one must <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>be kind and sweet and unselfish and do right. And +doing right is doing mostly what you don't want to do. To wash a +lot—that is right; to keep your fingers out of the pie—that is +right; to keep your hands from spilling mucilage on the cat's +back—that is right. If you make dents with a tack-hammer in +Mother's piano, that is not right; that is a surprise.</p> + +<p>The only safe way of doing right is to think of what you would +rather do, and then do something else. But often this is such +hard work that sometimes one doesn't care much about being a +brave soldier-man.</p> + +<p>For all that, it's jolly fine to have soldier shoes. They came to +David in time to save his faith in the business of being four +years old. It now began to have a glad feel about it, and he +walked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>perkily to the garden's edge, and like a new Columbus +about to discover a fresh world, climbed up experimentally and +sat on the gate-post.</p> + +<p>He was not at all sure that this was a proper place to get +waylaid, but something monstrous fine would of course happen +before long; there could be no doubt about that. How people would +be astonished when they came along and found that he had grown to +be four years old!</p> + +<p>Who would be the first, he wondered, to be shocked and surprised +at him? While he was thinking of that, his eyes suddenly +brightened with excitement. The street-sprinkler, the dear old +street-sprinkler, was coming! David's heart beat faster as he +listened to the slow creak and clacking oscillation of the heavy +wheels. Then came the damp, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>dusty, good smell which always +brought to him such a sense of mysterious romance! No prince out +of a fairy story could be more marvelous to him than the coatless +driver up there on the seat under his great canvas umbrella that +had advertisements printed on it. Always when the street-sprinkler +passed, David had watched it covetously, and now was his chance. +He would proclaim himself. He would not have to wish—and +wish—and wish any more about it. That proud place up there by the +driver was for him. He didn't doubt it in the least; he called; he +called lustily; he kicked his new shoes against the fence-post and +called:</p> + +<p>"Here I am! See, right down here!"</p> + +<p>But will you believe it, now? The driver didn't look at him. +Perhaps the lazy clamor of the wagon and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>hissing sound of +the steadily gushing water made too big a noise for the voice of +such a little boy to be heard.</p> + +<p>Do you call that any way for the street-sprinkler man to act? But +of course there might be some good reason for such criminal +behavior. David remembered that he hadn't consulted any fairy +godmother about it; long since he would have done so, only he +could never catch any fairy godmothers hanging around. They were +always busy somewhere else. Even Mother herself had failed to +introduce him to any competent, respectable fairy godmothers. She +was all right on telling about them; she was strong on that, but +somehow they never seemed to know when they were wanted. That is +their great fault; they are so unreliable. Once let them get +loose from a Cinderella book, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>and their business system is +always defective.</p> + +<p>How, then, can a little boy expect to accomplish any miracles +like riding on the street-sprinkler? It is not reasonable; David +himself decided that it wasn't, and he concluded to try something +more feasible, something that looked simple and easy and more +natural. Next time he would do better. Why shouldn't he? When one +is four years old, nearly anything ought to be possible. All he +had to do was to await another opportunity, and then pounce down +on it.</p> + +<p>This time, though, it was slow in coming, and when it did come it +didn't look much like an opportunity. It was too easy. In shape +it was a very ragged man with a very dirty face and a very red +nose and a very greasy hat. He came by, a-munching on an apple, a +big apple, a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>crispy-sounding apple, a shiny ripe and luscious +apple. How cool it would feel in a little boy's hands if he were +to hold it tight and then take a big, sweet, juicy bite out of +it!</p> + +<p>Should David accept the remainder of the man's apple? No, that +would not be right; little boys must not be greedy. Just the +teeniest, weeniest, wee bite would be quite sufficient for him.</p> + +<p>But, heigh-ho and alack-aday! the dirty-faced man and the +red-nosed man and the man with the greasy hat passed slouchily +on, a-munching and a-crunching of his apple.</p> + +<p>That was enough. David cast himself down from the fence-post of +deception and was off for the house, his arm before his eyes, and +his new shoes creaking dolorously. He must find refuge in +Mother's lap; she must help him to soothe <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>away his hurt; he must +have solace for this wretched failure of great hopes.</p> + +<p>But before reaching her, David suddenly found himself seized by +some mysterious force which sent him floating into space. Back +and forth he swam like, a pendulum, and when he alighted, it was +on a man's shoulder, and the man was Dr. Redfield.</p> + +<p>"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>David would not be comforted. He struggled to the ground.</p> + +<p>"What's the use?" he demanded between sobs. "What's the use of +being four years old?"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER V<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THE MUG OF WOE</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/n1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="N" style="margin-right: .75em;" />ew +shoes! Where in the world did we get new shoes?"</p> + +<p class="noin">Dr. Redfield was the first to rightly appreciate the grandeur of +them, and he was delighted to hear how they could squeak. Land +sakes! but they were wonderful. Greatly astonished he was, and so +swollen with pride was the little boy that he didn't care—not so +very much—even if his old friend had failed to put on his top +hat.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to do it?"</p> + +<p>That was David's first question. He was rather anxious, because +he did not believe that this big comrade of his had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>come +properly attired to waylay anybody.</p> + +<p>"Surely I am."</p> + +<p>The Doctor was prompt, but puzzled. He didn't know <i>what</i> he was +going to do. Then, for a space, man and boy looked at each other +inquiringly. They were both waiting and they were both wondering.</p> + +<p>"Has it begun to start yet?"</p> + +<p>There was expectancy in David's voice.</p> + +<p>"You mean, I suppose—that is—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! <i>You</i> know!" David gravely wagged his head.</p> + +<p>The Doctor took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"If you were a little more definite—not quite so vague and +uncertain," he hopelessly suggested.</p> + +<p>It was then that a sudden inspiration <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>saved the day for him. He +began to talk in a big and solemn voice.</p> + +<p>"I perceive, sir," he said, "that you have reached the age for +being waylaid. You are four years old, and by an ancient decree +of all the Medes and Persians, that makes you my prisoner, to +hold in hostage until that ungracious dame, your mother, shall +subscribe unto me suitable and sufficient ransom."</p> + +<p>David clapped his hands gleefully.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" he demanded. "Go on! Now what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, when you have all that said to you, it means that if you +find a doctor skulking about within ten feet of you, it is then +your perfect right to press him into your service. If you command +him to give you a ride on his back, he will have to do it. It's +undignified and he doesn't believe in it, but that's where <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>you +have him at your mercy. He <i>has</i> to obey; he has to go any place +you tell him to go. If you say he must take you to a toy shop, +that settles it. He has no choice in the matter. He <i>has</i> to do +it. That is always the rule when a little boy is four years old."</p> + +<p>David also learned that there is another peculiar thing about it. +In circumstances like this a little boy has the right, when he +arrives at the toy shop, to choose for himself the thing he wants +to buy. No grown-up will interfere with his judgment; the law +won't allow it. The trouble is that it is pretty hard for him to +make up his mind. When there is such a great array of drums and +swords and soldiers' caps and guns and bears that jump, it is not +an easy thing to select the toy that will please him most of +all.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>Why not buy a train of cars and a track to run it on? But if he +bought that, then how could he get along without a jumping-jack +that threw up its arms and legs when you pulled the string? And +if he took the jumping-jack, then what about an iron savings bank +with a monkey on top that shook his head with thanks when you +dropped the money in? Lovely things, all of them, but David put +them from him. He did it with decision, but with a nervous haste +which told of wavering courage.</p> + +<p>Such things were not for him. They are only for boys who are not +soldier-men. And besides, they might cost too much. If the price +went higher than five cents David would be lost, for many +precepts had been forced upon him in regard to the waste of +money, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>value people put on it, and the way they have to +work for it. So thus far the nickel had marked the very summit of +his financial transactions.</p> + +<p>All the same, a strange wistfulness came into David's eyes when +he put aside poor jumping-jack. Such a dear of a jumping-jack he +was! You could have kissed the jolly red paint of him, and the +pretty toy bank was a thing to hug tight under your arm. That is +why the little boy's voice was such a weak and far-away voice +when he presently asked:—</p> + +<p>"Would two five centses get him, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"When it's your birthday," said the Doctor, "it's all right to +spend three five centses."</p> + +<p>Here, then, was David's chance. The jumping-jack was almost his, +when his shoes squeaked a warning. Thus <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>suddenly was he reminded +that he was a brave little soldier-man. He now saw that such a +purchase would be ridiculous. Something serviceable is what he +must have, something that Mother would like and want him to keep. +No silly toys for him! But, oh, if only the Doctor would insist a +little on the jumping-jack!</p> + +<p>David turned reluctantly away; he choked down the queerness in +his throat and firmly laid hands on a gilt-rimmed mustache cup. +His lips twitched and his eyes winked, but the look in his face +was the look of a soldier-man. No intervention from the Doctor +could shake his determination.</p> + +<p>With coaxing insinuation the Doctor said, "We haven't seen all +the things, you know."</p> + +<p>Hope kindled in David's eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>"Maybe," he said with enthusiasm, "maybe this costs more than +three five centses. Does it?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you rather have a drum?" asked the salesman.</p> + +<p>No, indeed; David would not have a drum.</p> + +<p>"Or a sword?" asked the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks," the words came with husky politeness.</p> + +<p>The cup was the thing for him; it would please Mother. She would +be so glad about the cup!</p> + +<p>Here, again, was disappointment. She didn't seem pleased with +it—not nearly so pleased as she should have been. But never +mind, little boy; every generous heart is quick to forget the +unselfish kindness that is in it, and you yourself will not be +slow to forget this foolish sacrifice you have made for love <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>of +one who has made many a sacrifice for you. She has made them, +little boy, in love, and forgotten them in love, and that, David, +is the beautiful thing in loving.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>"FAV-VER"</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/w1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="W" style="margin-right: .75em;" />hen +David is an early bird it is great fun to show Mother what a +sluggard she is. He calls to her to let her know it is getting-up +time, and then she is <i>so</i> amazed! She cannot understand how it +is possible for her little boy to get awake almost as soon as the +robins do. Sometimes she asks if he is sure he is awake, and he +tells her he is sure of it, and then she believes him.</p> + +<p class="noin">Only this morning she did not ask that, and this morning there +was no smile in her eyes. A strange intentness had taken all the +summer look out of her face, and there were no kisses on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>her +lips; for he had troubled her with that repeated demand of his to +be supplied with a father.</p> + +<p>"Whose boy," she asked hesitatingly, "whose boy are you?"</p> + +<p>David returned her steadfast gaze with a queer, impish wisdom. He +sat up in bed and fixed his eyes upon her.</p> + +<p>"Whose boy?" he slowly repeated. "Why, I'm fav-ver's boy."</p> + +<p>"Have you a father?" asked the woman.</p> + +<p>"If you get one for me I have."</p> + +<p>"David," she said, more serious than was usual with her, "if you +had one I should want him to look like you.... Here, little boy, +here, in your face I see your father."</p> + +<p>The woman had moulded her cool hands to David's smooth, soft +cheeks, and was looking wistfully into the eyes <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>of her little +boy. But abruptly he struggled free from her; he slipped to the +floor, mounted on a chair in front of the chiffonier and peeped +excitedly into the mirror. A long time he looked at the +tousle-headed reflection that looked earnestly back at him. He +frowned, and the boy in the glass frowned, too. He was a great +disappointment, that boy; he wasn't the teeniest bit like any +father that ever was. He was only a child in a white nighty.</p> + +<p>David faced about; he got down off the chair, and he turned his +accusing eyes upon Mother. She had fooled her little boy; she had +told him a wrong story, and it was woful disillusionment.</p> + +<p>"You cannot see him, David," she said, "because you have no +picture of him in your heart."</p> + +<p>Well, then, did Mother have such a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>picture? If she did, why +could she not show him that picture? And please, Mother, where +did she keep that heart where the picture was?</p> + +<p>Yes, to be sure, she had such a picture, but it was not of +David's father; it was of someone else, for she had never seen +David's father. In her heart was still another picture: it was a +memory which had to do with the sad nativity of her little boy. +So sad an event it was that she had left off being a head nurse +at the hospital, in order to become a mother by proxy.</p> + +<p>David might some day come to know that there was a fogyish, +bachelor doctor who was almost a father in the same sort of +way—almost, but not quite, for the child had been left not to +him, but to her. A home, likewise, was her inheritance, a very +pretty little home and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>all else that had once belonged to the +real mother of the little boy.</p> + +<p>A brave death she had died, that kinless widow at the hospital. +And how could it have been otherwise, when so large a faith was +hers in the nurse whose arm had gone lovingly around her, and +whose voice, many and many a time, had given comfort and had +known finally how to smooth the way to death?</p> + +<p>But it was the Doctor's hand, not the hand of the nurse, that had +gently closed the mother's eyes upon her last long sleep; and it +was he, not the nurse, who had turned wofully away, and stared +and stared and stared out of the window.</p> + +<p>Grave pictures were these that Mother kept in her heart, and +David was not to know how much he troubled her when he fell to +questioning; and that is why, in the midst of his endless +inquiries, he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>was wont to encounter the Great Never Mind.</p> + +<p>Do you know what that is? It is a condition of soul common to all +mothers who have little boys that want to know things.</p> + +<p>The worst of it is that one is expected to understand when he is +never to mind and when he <i>is</i> to mind. They are not the same +thing; they are twins, and they are so hard to tell apart, and so +disagreeable, and act so much alike that only an expert can tell +which is which.</p> + +<p>But Mother was an expert. She knew when you must and when you +mustn't; she had a talent for it. She also had a gift for telling +David that she would see. If he wanted to go swimming with Mitch +Horrigan in the creek near town, she said she would see about it, +but somehow she never did get it seen about.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>That was one great difference between her and Dr. Redfield. He +did not say he would see; if given half a chance he always <i>did</i> +see, and there was something so magical about him that one felt +he was good for a miracle most any time. For all that, it was +hard to ask him for anything, for when in his presence one always +felt so queer and bashful and overpowered with the strange +medicine smells which were such a big part of him. Yet David now +felt that no boy has any right to hope for a father if he hasn't +spirit enough to ask for one. So firmly convinced of this was the +little boy that early in the morning he made up his mind as to +what he would do. It was something very daring and very naughty. +He was going to run away.</p> + +<p>He did it, too, and the awfulness of it got into his throat; for +the Doctor lives <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>farther away from David's house than China is. +It is almost at the end of things, and the little boy did not +know whether he could find it. What was even worse, he presently +did not know whether he could get back home again. He had crept +through the fence and run and run, and then walked and walked, +and now he had decided that he didn't care much about going on. +Some other time would do as well; to-morrow would be all right. +This did not feel like a lucky day; some other day would be +luckier.</p> + +<p>David felt very virtuous. It seemed to him that he had not meant +to run away at all. He was not a bad little boy; he was a good +little boy, but he soon began to feel annoyed; for the way home +didn't have any straightness to it; the way home began to get +more and more crooked, and the houses began to seem <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>strange and +unfriendly; they stared at him rudely, and none of them looked +either like home or like the Doctor's house.</p> + +<p>The sad thing was that he had only one way to tell which was the +Doctor's house, and that was a wrong way. He was looking for a +yellow dog that scratched his head with his toenails and knocked +his elbow on the board-walk when he did it. Such a dog once lay +in front of the Doctor's house. So now, as David kept going and +going on, he was looking out for a yellow dog that should knock +with his elbow when he scratched his head with his toenails. Once +a black dog did it, but that was stupid of him; he needn't try to +fool David.</p> + +<p>After a long, long while a great tiredness came upon the little +boy, and there was such a grinding ache in him that he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>knew +hungry-time had come. He passed a bakeshop that breathed out a +warm, steamy fragrance, and in the window there was a great pan +of red-brown doughnuts dusted over with powdered sugar. As the +smell was like the smell of the bakeshop near home, and as the +doughnuts looked the same, David instantly plucked up courage. He +hurried on, confident that he would soon be climbing up into +Mother's lap. It was some time, though, before he found a house +with a white paling, and he was distrustful of the house; it had +no curtains, and it scowled so. He decided to experiment first +with the fence-post. Maybe the house would look more reasonable, +and maybe things would feel different if he were to climb up on +the fence-post. So presently, when he was perched above the gate, +he closed his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>eyes and began kicking his heels as he did when at +home.</p> + +<p>This was another experiment; for every boy knows that you cannot +hope to see any fairies or any fairy godmothers unless you take +them by surprise. David, for his part, frequently gave them to +understand that he wasn't looking. He would shut his eyes tight +and kick his feet to prove that he was minding his own business. +If they saw him like that, maybe they wouldn't care if he was so +close to them. After convincing them that his intentions were +honorable, he would suddenly pop open his eyes to catch them at +their tricks.</p> + +<p>Once he almost saw them. The tulip bed had seemed to dance in the +sunlight like a whirlpool of scarlet and yellow fire; then it +stopped abruptly, but the blossoms still nodded and stirred, even +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>after the wild dance was done. He was confident that he had come +very near to seeing the fairies, but now he did not want to see +them. They had done something to the house where Mother lived, +and he wanted them to undo it. He would not look. They would +please understand that this time he did not mean to deceive them.</p> + +<p>"Cross my heart," he murmured very solemnly, and gave the pledge.</p> + +<p>But it did no good. They would not undo the queer things they had +done to the house. They were spiteful and mean, and not to be +trusted. The house remained without trees and vines, a scowling, +ugly thing. The garden had no shrubs; the seeded grass was matted +down and yellow, like hay, and there were bald places where the +gray ground was showing through.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>They did not know, those foolish fairy folk, of the courage and +the faith that may be in the heart of a little boy. They might be +stubborn if they chose; they might keep him waiting, but in the +end they would not abuse his patience. All would come right. Only +it did take such a long, long while for it to get that way! +Hungry-time is very hard on little boys when they are waiting for +things to come right, and it was so hard on David that twice he +called aloud for Mother. A wooden echo, sent back from barns and +sheds, dolefully repeated the last syllable of his cry. It was +sad mockery, but David held doggedly to his belief that finally +things would come right. His hands closed rigidly upon the sides +of the fence-post, and from beneath the tight-shut eyelids slow +tear-drops were squeezing out.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>It was so that Dr. Redfield found him. With medicine-case in +hand, the physician had come down the walk from the desolate, +scowling house. As he seized the child in his arms, and as he +felt the small arms of David go about his neck, the word that +greeted him was "Fav-ver!"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>AS A FOUNTAIN IN THE DESERT</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/t1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="T" style="margin-right: .75em;" />he magic that is in the touch of a little boy! There is nothing +like it to drive out the weariness from a heart that knows it +must not grow too tired. So now, when Dr. Redfield left the house +where he had been, it meant much to him that there should be such +a welcome awaiting him at the gate. It was a gray and worn smile, +but still a smile that answered the child's unexpected greeting, +and as the wee arms went tight about the man's neck he asked no +questions; he merely said:—</p> + +<p>"I wish I were, little boy—I wish I were your father. We would +have a rest, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>wouldn't we? We would take time to know each +other."</p> + +<p>As he said this there came into the Doctor's face the same look +which he had just seen in the eyes of the father and mother who +were trusting to him to save their little boy. Many times other +fathers and other mothers had made that mute appeal to him, and +he had done what he could for them. He had done all that could be +done. He was doing it to-day, and he had been doing it every day +these past eight weeks that had been as twenty years to him.</p> + +<p>For a scourge had come, and the city was trembling in the fear of +it. Again Duck Town was responsible. Duck Town always was +responsible. Every spring when the floods came, and Mud Creek +spread itself out over the prairie, only the ducks of Duck Town +were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>secure. Then, when the waters subsided, there came malaria, +or perhaps something worse, from the musty cellars that could not +be drained. The settlement lay in the bottoms, where the wretched +dwellings of the poor stood huddled together as if in whispered +conspiracy about some black contagion of a deadlier malice than +any that had yet struck terror to the hearts of men.</p> + +<p>Several years ago it was typhoid fever that had helped many +people to move out of Duck Town. A very badly behaved disease it +was. It came right up into the city and went stalking brazenly +into the most stately homes along the wooded avenues and +beautiful boulevards.</p> + +<p>Next after the ravages of typhoid came diphtheria in its most +malignant form, and this time—Heaven help <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>us!—this time scarlet +fever had come. And this time, as before, there were competent +physicians to receive the plague; there were specialists and +careful nurses with snowy aprons and pretty caps.</p> + +<p>But not in Duck Town. Down there the people knew a man whom they +called the Old Doctor. He was not old, not really; it was merely +that he had the manner of a veteran. He browbeat them shamefully, +as was perfectly proper for an old doctor; he bullied them a +great deal, and scolded, and called names, and worked for them, +and did not know how to sleep. That made them fear and respect +him, but goodness knows what made them love him. They did, +though—feared, respected, and loved the man.</p> + +<p>Only he could not teach them to be sanitary. He knew their names, +their silly Russian names and their silly Polish <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>names; he knew +their Slavic and their Bohemian names, but their language he did +not know, and all the hygiene they could learn was to call for +him when sickness and trouble came to them.</p> + +<p>"Keep clean," he would say. "Drain your cellars; air out and keep +clean; do try to keep clean!"</p> + +<p>But how could they do that? Four big families in one small house +do not help much to keep one small house both clean and sanitary. +Dr. Redfield knew that, and he swore at Duck Town for a vile and +filthy hole. So did the people swear at Duck Town, and many of +them suddenly stopped living there. For, despite the strength and +courage of their champion; despite the potency of drugs; despite +the sleepless nights and days spent in fighting disease, the +deadly contagion grew and spread.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>Dr. Redfield had gone through epidemics before, but never one +like this, and now his energy was gone. For the first time in his +life the impulse had come upon him to own defeat and surrender. +Other men, younger doctors than he, should take up the fight. As +for him, he could not battle against such odds. He would give it +up; he would go away. He would take this little boy with him and +begin to live.</p> + +<p>"I'll do it," he said, pressing David's face against his hollow +and unshaven cheek. "I'll do it, little boy; I will be your +father."</p> + +<p>Then David asked encouragingly:</p> + +<p>"Is it your picture that Mother keeps in her heart?"</p> + +<p>"No, David; not mine, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>This was a sad blow to the little boy. A very solemn look came +into his face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>"You won't do," he said, "unless you can get your picture into +Mother's heart."</p> + +<p>For a second time Dr. Redfield smiled, and then he asked:</p> + +<p>"How did you get here?"</p> + +<p>David did not answer the question; perhaps he did not hear what +was said to him. A thoughtful look had come into his face, and +presently he was asking, with great earnestness in his voice:</p> + +<p>"Why have I got curls for? Why don't I have trouvers? Why don't I +have warts on me?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Redfield was walking hand in hand with the little boy at his +side. They were going toward the place where the horse and buggy +stood waiting, and as they strode along the little boy kept +falling over his chubby legs. It was hard for him to go so fast, +for he was very tired, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>and besides, he was looking up into the +man's face.</p> + +<p>"Warts aren't nice for little boys," said Dr. Redfield. "You and +I don't want them on <i>us</i>, do we?"</p> + +<p>"Don't I, please?" said David, very earnestly. Then he wanted to +know if he could not be born in Indiana. That is where Mitch +Horrigan had been born, and he was always bragging about it. But +the Doctor didn't seem to be in a conversational humor. He made +no reply to David's request, and that vexed the little boy. He +suddenly let go of the man's hand and stood still. Then the +Doctor stopped, too, and asked what was wrong. It was now that +David closed his fist upon his thumbs and frowned savagely.</p> + +<p>"I am not," he declared; "I am not neither a girl, am I?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>The reply of his big friend was consoling, but not satisfying, +and it was some time before the man again felt the little, soft +fist in his hand and saw the little boy looking wistfully up into +his face.</p> + +<p>"If only I had a few of them, Fav-ver Doctor," said David, "only +just a few little warts!"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THE GONE-AWAY LADY</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/p1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="P" style="margin-right: .75em;" />roud +business for David! Sitting on the edge of the seat of the +buggy, he was holding the reins very tight. One must always do +that if he does not want the horse to kick and run away. Not +knowing that the horse was tied to the hitching-post, David was +fulfilling his mission with ceremony, and when Dr. Redfield +appeared from the door of a drug shop across the way, the little +boy called to him gayly:—</p> + +<p>"He didn't run away, did he? I held him all right, didn't I?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Redfield had been absent long enough to use the telephone in +notifying <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>Miss Eastman, whom David knew only by the sweeter name +of Mother, that her little boy had been waylaid and would +probably not be home to luncheon. She was not permitted to know +that the pretty rogue had run away, but the man himself strongly +suspected the truth. For some time, though, he charitably +refrained from speaking of the matter. In fact, three important +events in David's life took place before the painful subject was +broached.</p> + +<p>To eat at the Doctor's table, and wholly without the assistance +of a high chair—that was one of the events; another was a +hair-cut, and the third—Everybody, salute! David is in trouvers!</p> + +<p>He and his big friend both admired them immensely, and it was in +the little shabby, out-at-the-elbow doctor's office that David +had been helped to put them <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>on. After he had strutted for a +while his Fav-ver said to him:—</p> + +<p>"What fun, David; what fun you must have had in running away!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," the little boy replied, "I didn't go far. I got scart and +hurried back to Mother."</p> + +<p>The Doctor looked wryly at his guest. He knew David had not gone +home after running away.</p> + +<p>"Did you see Mother after you went back?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't see her."</p> + +<p>"But you are sure you went back?"</p> + +<p>"It didn't <i>feel</i> back," said David.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't have been mistaken about going back?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"In what part of town were you when I found you on the +fence-post?"</p> + +<p>"Home," said David.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>"Why were you crying?"</p> + +<p>"I was feeling bad."</p> + +<p>"And why was that?"</p> + +<p>"I was scart."</p> + +<p>"Of what?"</p> + +<p>"Everything was so mixed up."</p> + +<p>"You ran away, though, didn't you? And you did not see Mother +after you went back?"</p> + +<p>David nodded, and the Doctor got to his feet with a suddenness +that knocked over his chair.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious!" he exclaimed, consulting his watch. "It's been +four hours since you saw Mother, and she may think something has +happened to you. She may think you have been run over by +horses—that you have been hurt and can never come home to her +any more."</p> + +<p>What was to be done about it? Dr. Redfield wanted to know that; +David <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>wanted to know that. The man crinkled up his forehead: he +rose and began to walk the floor, and David's eyes did not leave +his face.</p> + +<p>"What are we to do?" the Doctor asked, and by and by he added, +"If you see a policeman I hope you will tell him you are not lost +and that you did not think of making so much trouble when you ran +away. But what about Mother? Maybe she, too, has been looking +everywhere for you."</p> + +<p>The Doctor sat down and wiped his face, and then got up and began +to walk about once more. You could see that he was very much +distressed, but not more distressed than David. In sad perplexity +they stared at each other. After everything had grown very still +in the room, the little boy suddenly exclaimed in an awed +voice:—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>"Let's go home!"</p> + +<p>"Well said!" the Doctor called out, and David flew for his hat; +they started for the stairs, the little boy clinging desperately +to the man's hand.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" the Doctor exclaimed. They had stopped abruptly before +reaching the steps. "Why don't we telephone? If we do that, it +won't keep Mother waiting so long."</p> + +<p>It was now that David's eyes began to gleam. He clapped his +hands; he laughed and he danced. He was going to put Mother's +heart at rest about him. She would not be troubled any more. She +would know he was safe.</p> + +<p>After the message had gone, it was easy to see in David's face +that he was glad he had not run away very far. Fav-ver Doctor had +not blamed him, but Fav-ver Doctor had made him understand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>how +much trouble it makes when little boys run away.</p> + +<p>"That's what it was all about," said David.</p> + +<p>"You mean, I suppose—"</p> + +<p>"Fairies don't like it if I run off. That's why they changed +things around so. I hardly knew the house; it was fixed so +queer."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Doctor assented, "it looked shocking queer. How did +you ever know the place?"</p> + +<p>"They didn't change the fence much," said David, and the man now +recognized the one point of similitude between that desolate home +down in Duck Town and the House of Joy where David lived.</p> + +<p>So grim was the contrast that the Doctor winked uneasily, for it +brought him back to a problem he had thought <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>settled. He had +really meant to take a vacation. He was so tired; no one knew +quite, how very tired he was, and he had thought that for a brief +while he was justified in leaving the fight to some one else. He +only wanted a week or so—a little chance to live, to play with +this little boy, and perhaps be happy! Yet, after all, dared he +leave those people to other hands when they were counting so on +him, and had so little else to count upon? What, he asked, would +she, the Gone-Away Lady, have counseled him to do?</p> + +<p>Rather nervously he sought the eyes of a miniature on top of his +desk, and as he looked into the eyes of that sweet-faced woman, +the old comfort he always used to see in them when he had stood +most in need of strength, was no longer there. "In the face of so +much misery," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>they seemed to say, "how can you think of +forsaking the field?"</p> + +<p>It was not a picture of David's mother; no, it was a likeness +that had ever kept the Doctor's heart alive to gracious thoughts +and gentle ways; it was the portrait of her who had not lived to +be his wife, and a habit had come to him of fancying in the eyes +of his patients something of the same beautiful look that was in +the miniature. Particularly he had done so when David's mother +was struggling hard not to go away from her little boy, and +often, since then, the Doctor had compared the face of the +picture with that of the child; and to-day, as he was wont to do, +he took the dainty bit of porcelain in his hand to see if he +could not trace, feature by feature, the likeness he so loved to +imagine.</p> + +<p>The way of this was very interesting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>to David. He stood by the +Doctor's chair and leaned his elbows on the knees of his friend, +with his plump chin in the wee, white hands.</p> + +<p>"Is it your mother?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>The Doctor smiled.</p> + +<p>"No, David, but she would have been a good mother."</p> + +<p>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"It is some one," the Doctor slowly replied, "who would have +loved you very, very much."</p> + +<p>"Where is she now?"</p> + +<p>"She went away, little boy; years ago, David, she went away from +me."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> never saw her," said the child.</p> + +<p>"No, David, we cannot see her, but if we keep our hearts open and +our lives all sweet and clean, we can be sure she is not far +away."</p> + +<p>The little boy had listened attentively, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>but he could not +understand, and after careful examination of the picture, he +presently asked:</p> + +<p>"When is she coming back again?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Redfield had nothing further to tell. He crossed the room, +and hastily replaced the miniature upon the top of the high +desk.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER IX<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THE CRIME OF DAVID</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/i1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="I" style="margin-right: .75em;" />t is not pleasant to be a criminal; it hurts. David knew he was +one, and although he did not know what crime he had committed, he +imagined that he was now being punished for it. The idea came to +him on account of the way the Doctor was acting. The man had +gently replaced the miniature upon the top of the desk, and +afterward he stood motionless, sunk deep in revery. The little +boy was trying to guess what he had done. It must be very, very +wrong, or else Fav-ver Doctor wouldn't be standing there like +that. He would talk and take notice. David <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>knew this was so, +but, try as he might, he could not think what sin he was guilty +of. It was a great puzzle, and, in truth, David was frequently +puzzled in the same way. For the laws which grown-ups have for +little boys are so much like any other kind of laws that it is +hard to get any justice out of them.</p> + +<p>Without knowing what it was, David keenly felt his disgrace. The +glory of being in the Doctor's house; the glory of sitting at +table in an ordinary chair; the glory of a hair-cut, and even the +glory of trouvers—each of these mighty events was now shorn of +its charm. Everything had grown sadly commonplace; for there can +be no satisfaction in achieving greatness, if one is so soon to +be forgotten. So now, with the passing of every instant, things +were growing more and more solemn.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>Doubtless the chair on which David was sitting was partly to +blame. It was such a slippery seat that if one didn't hold on +tight he would be sure to slide right off. There were stickery +things in it, too, for the hair-cloth was getting all worn out.</p> + +<p>The little boy sat politely on the stickery things and waited. If +he waited long enough, maybe Fav-ver Doctor would smile at him as +Mother always did. At the present time, though, one could hardly +believe that there were ever any smiles in Fav-ver Doctor's +face—he was looking so hard and so long at nothing at all.</p> + +<p>Everything in the room was feeling lonesome and guilty and bad; +and worst of all was the clock. It was a big, upright, colonial +clock, and its counting of time was done with deep and stately +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>deliberation. If he would only strike the hour, that would help. +David remembered with what dignity the clock could strike. The +brazen reverberations of each stroke always lingered awhile +before the next one came, and then, when all of them had been +struck, and the last ringing beat had throbbed and swooned into a +whisper, and died, one always felt that other strokes would +follow. One looked for them, and waited for them, but they did +not come. To-day nothing seemed to come but the regular, echoing, +church-like tick-tock, and to-day there was no diversion of any +kind; there was only a large, dark, depressing awesomeness.</p> + +<p>It is very scareful for a little boy when he feels himself grown +to be such a criminal. Immense periods of time seem to be +slipping away, but he doesn't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>know at all whether he is getting +to be really and truly a man, or whether he is getting littler +and littler. There is always the fear of diminishing, because one +would so like to be grown up, and when one is such a bad little +boy, how can he expect ever to be grown up? David felt himself +slipping and slipping. He was slipping back into three-years-old. +From that he would go into two-years-old, and before very long he +would be only one. He knew it was coming on. There was a tingling +flush going down his back, a cold current, like ants with frozen +feet. Maybe it was only perspiration, but how was a little boy to +know that? He was gasping with excitement when he suddenly called +out: "Here I am!"</p> + +<p>The idea was that the Doctor should instantly seize him and save +him from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>being dissolved into empty air. But no sooner had David +called than he was overcome with shame. At first he was +astonished that his voice should really be <i>his</i> voice. There was +no change in it—not the slightest—and he now saw that he had +only fooled himself. That is why he was ashamed. He was so +ashamed that he began to cry.</p> + +<p>That would not do at all. Fav-ver Doctor said it wouldn't, and he +was so distressed about it that he offered David the rare +privilege of wearing his watch. At any other time the little boy +would have been mightily set up over the honor, but at such a +time as this no distinction of any sort was for him. He did not +deserve it. He had disgraced himself too much for that, and he +pushed the watch from him. He kicked his feet against the chair +and rudely exclaimed:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>"Don't want your watch!"</p> + +<p>In some ways Dr. Redfield was not different from most of us. So +many years had passed since he was a little boy that he had +forgotten that what appears to be only sullenness may in reality +be something quite different. Perhaps if he had been more like +his normal self instead of being a very tired and a very +irritable doctor he would not have considered it necessary to +regard David with the eye of stern discipline. But however that +may be, the man pivoted suddenly upon his heel and marched out of +the room, leaving the little boy alone to brood at his leisure +upon the sad impropriety of being rude.</p> + +<p>David wanted to go with the Doctor, but the man would have +nothing to do with any little boy who cries without any reason +for crying and is saucy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>besides. David could not go. David must +sit still on that chair and must not get up.</p> + +<p>"I don't like you," the child called out.</p> + +<p>Then, as soon as the door was shut upon him, he became a very +angry little boy. He pounced from his seat and began to walk +heavily up and down the room. He stamped his feet; he shut his +teeth together and he kicked the chair where he had been sitting. +He had not been fairly dealt with, and now, as Mitch Horrigan +would say, he was going to be just as rotten bad as ever he +could.</p> + +<p>But it was useless to stamp so loud and clench his fists. There +was no one to hear him and there was no one to see him. Neither +was there any satisfaction in knocking over a chair. The outlook +was utterly hopeless. There <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>didn't seem to be any good way of +being bad.</p> + +<p>Presently, though, David had an inspiration. He would get hold of +the picture the Doctor had talked about so foolishly. David would +get it and have a look at it. Surely that would be very naughty +indeed. David was confident of that, for the Doctor had been so +extremely nice in handling the little miniature.</p> + +<p>Only there was one great difficulty which stood in the way of +this famous campaign of badness. David encountered this +difficulty when he had dragged a chair in front of the high desk. +Even by standing on the chair he was not tall enough to reach the +picture; even by standing tippy-toe he could not reach it. There +was left but the one alternative—he must jump for it, but when +he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>did that he knocked it off. It fell with a loud clack to the +floor and broke in two.</p> + +<p>Then terror seized the heart of David. He did not mean to break +the lady; honestly he did not, and now—oh, oh!—what was to +be done? The little boy did not have much time to think about it. +He heard a heavy tread on the stairs and knew the Doctor was +coming.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it would do to say that the picture had fallen off itself +and got broken, or maybe it would be better to say that the +fairies had done it, or maybe—</p> + +<p>Now, at last, David knew the thing to do, and did it. When the +Doctor came into the room the little boy was sweetly but not +serenely in his place. He was sitting upright in his chair, as +though he had not stirred a hair's breadth during <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>the man's +absence, but in the eyes of David was a feverish lustre, and the +little body of him was all of a tremble.</p> + +<p>"I didn't understand about the crying," Dr. Redfield announced, +and he was very humble. It did not seem odd to him that he should +come to confessional before this little boy. He believed that he +had judged too hastily, and he was come to make it right. "Maybe +you were lonesome," he said. "Maybe you wanted Mother."</p> + +<p>David said nothing, and the Doctor went on with that wistful +tenderness which comes to us when we feel we have not been just +with those we love.</p> + +<p>"You <i>do</i> like me, don't you, David?"</p> + +<p>But the little boy could not answer; he was crying so.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER X<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THE NIP OF GUILT</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/l1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="L" style="margin-right: .75em;" />ittle David was not well; little David was hot and red.</p> + +<p class="noin">After he had been gently laid in the crib he turned restlessly, +and from time to time a gasping sob shook his whole body, for he +had cried himself to sleep. He had fallen into a fitful slumber +while in the Doctor's buggy, and had not awakened when carried +into the house.</p> + +<p class="noin">"A little feverish," said Mother, as she pressed her cool hand +upon his forehead.</p> + +<p>The Doctor said nothing, but in his eyes, as he bent over the +little boy, there was something sinister. It was his fighting +face, and it was saying to David:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>"You shall not be sick, little boy. I won't have it."</p> + +<p>All the weariness of the man was gone; all his dreary +discouragement was gone. He stood erect, a soldier ready to do +battle against disease which for these past weeks had been +choking out the life of little children.</p> + +<p>As the Doctor hurried away he was upbraiding himself for having +been absent from his patients not less than three whole hours. +Gross negligence, this! He had no right to play so long with +David, and now he would not take the time to tell Miss Eastman of +all the great things they had been doing.</p> + +<p>But indeed no words of explanation were required to tell her of +one thing that had been done. Without any assistance she soon +discovered a substantial reason why her little boy was so +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>restless, and this reason proved to be a miniature. She found +the two pieces of it hid away in his blouse at the very place +where they would be most uncomfortable to lie upon. But even +after she had relieved David of this source of trouble, he still +turned and tossed and talked in his sleep.</p> + +<p>She could not understand what he was saying, but the face painted +on porcelain seemed easily understood. How, Miss Eastman asked +herself, had he come by that picture? Who had given it to her +little boy, and what had he been told about the beautiful face?</p> + +<p>An impulse had suddenly come upon the woman to hide it away, or +better yet, to destroy it utterly. But there was no time for +that. As if from an electric shock, David had flounced over on +his side, and now he sprung bolt upright. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>Confused emotions +struggled in his face; his hands searched his blouse, and as they +failed to find what they were searching for, there came such a +look of terror into his eyes that Mother instantly produced the +miniature.</p> + +<p>"Who is it, dear?" she asked.</p> + +<p>With the same sort of agility which had come to him when he had +heard the Doctor's footstep on the stair, David seized the pieces +of porcelain, and with fumbling eagerness he slipped them back +into his blouse.</p> + +<p>"It's mine!" he called out. He scowled fiercely, as though +expecting some one to dispute his claim.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get it?"</p> + +<p>"Up there," he said.</p> + +<p>"Up where?"</p> + +<p>Again the little boy was silent, but Mother insisted on more +definite <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>information. Three times she asked how he had come into +possession of the picture before he would speak again. When he +did so he scowled more heavily than at first, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I won't not tell you!"</p> + +<p>"But why, David; why not tell Mother about it?"</p> + +<p>The child evaded a direct reply.</p> + +<p>"Doctor will be mad at me," he said.</p> + +<p>"Did he give it to you?"</p> + +<p>The little boy nodded.</p> + +<p>"Did he say you were not to tell me?"</p> + +<p>Again the little boy nodded.</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you who it was?"</p> + +<p>Now that the wrong story was so well started, David was inspired +to make it a good one. To do that he would use part of the truth, +but unfortunately he could not recall much of what Dr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>Redfield +had said about the picture. There was but one word that had stood +out prominently in the talk, and that was the word "Mother." It +was a relief to David to remember that, and he blurted out his +information with cruel finality.</p> + +<p>"This," he said, holding the pieces of the miniature together, +"is mother."</p> + +<p>"But how can you have two mothers?" Miss Eastman inquired, with a +smile that was not a good smile. "Tell me, David, tell me whose +mother am I?"</p> + +<p>"You?" he asked with puzzled anxiety. Then he stopped short. It +is not easy to steal pictures and tell wrong stories about them. +He did not know what to do. Everything was against him, and he +began to cry again.</p> + +<p>It was now that Miss Eastman passionately seized the little boy +in her arms.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>"Don't you believe that!" she exclaimed, her words throbbing with +the hurt he had given her. "I am your mother, David—I!"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>APOTHEOSIS</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/a1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="A" style="margin-right: .75em;" />fter declaring that she alone was David's mother, Miss Eastman +was called away to the telephone. It was Dr. Redfield inquiring +anxiously about the little boy. Pulse normal, temperature normal, +no symptoms of any sort, she told the physician, but she could +scarcely control her voice to answer his questions. There was a +tightness in her throat, and she spoke with crisp brevity, +instead of detailing anything of what had passed between her and +David.</p> + +<p>When she had hung up the receiver and gone back to the child, she +took him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>in her lap and tried to entertain him with a book of +"Mother Goose" jingles, turning the pages slowly and concealing +her emotion under the silliness of the nursery rhymes. In the +midst of her comical recital about Jack and Jill who went up the +hill, she suddenly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"What great fun it was to be with Doctor!"</p> + +<p>No matter how much she might try to divert her little boy, he was +only indifferently amused; but presently he remembered something +which, for the time being, caused him to forget the broken and +pilfered miniature.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he exulted, "Mother, I got 'em! They have pockets—deep +pockets. You don't hardly know me, do you?"</p> + +<p>David began strutting up and down the room; he stood still, with +legs wide <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>apart, and then dug his fists deep into his pockets.</p> + +<p>Of course mother was astounded. It required only a little +make-believe on her part to indicate that this was some strange +boy whom she had never seen before. The surprising change in him +had impressed her so disagreeably that she had been in no mood to +speak of it. Even as she had taken off the wide-brimmed sailor +hat, when David reached the house in Dr. Redfield's arms, she had +made no comment on the close-cropped, flaxen head. She had of +course remarked each detail of the little boy's altered +appearance, but what she had seen even more clearly was the look +in the man's face when he had told her that her little boy was +not well. It was this that she had seen at a glance, and it was +this that she had taken deeply to heart, but now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>she diligently +tried to enter into the spirit of trouvers.</p> + +<p>All of a sudden the earnest look in David's face was swept away +by a smile. His little legs began to dance; his hands danced, and +his piping laughter danced best of all. Making a prancing dash +for Mother's skirts, he demanded that she smell the good, barber +smell of his hair. But she laughed such a queer laugh, as she +gathered him up in her arms, that the gleefulness suddenly went +out of him.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," she said, "I'm afraid there's not enough left of +your hair to smell."</p> + +<p>The suspicion came to David that Mother was not glad. Instead of +applauding his fine hair-cut, she had a silly way of asking what +had been done with the curls.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>This is the way mothers act sometimes when they want to be +downright discouraging. David showed how he felt about it by +asking if supper wouldn't soon be ready, and throughout the meal +he bore himself with dignity. Although it is not easy to pass the +rolls when one's arms are so short and the plate is so large and +wobbly, the little boy was sure that to-night he was reaching a +surprising distance across the table. Surely Mother must have +been impressed with this new and astonishing length of arm.</p> + +<p>When it came bed-time, David felt it would be weakness on his +part, now that he was almost grown to be a man, to allow Mother +to continue her absurd habit of sitting beside him while he went +to sleep. He told her very delicately that in the future she need +not go to so much trouble. He was resolved not to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>be such a +nuisance. Hereafter he would always go to sleep all by himself.</p> + +<p>But in beginning this practice he did not think it advisable to +take off his trousers. Perhaps he would not feel so man-grown if +he took them off; perhaps the kilts-and-blouse feeling would come +on him in the night, unless he were consciously secure in +knickerbockers.</p> + +<p>"I—I couldn't keep them on, could I, Mother?" The question came +plaintively, from the very depths of his desire.</p> + +<p>"But, David," said Mother, "if you wear them out by sleeping in +them, then how are you to get any more? And besides, don't you +think they need a rest as well as you?"</p> + +<p>Anybody could see the logic of that. David reluctantly permitted +his trousers to be taken off, and he was particularly eager to +see that they should have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>honorable treatment. He had a +misgiving that Mother did not know where they should properly be +stowed for the night, and his doubt thus found expression:</p> + +<p>"Where does Doctor put his?"</p> + +<p>The result of the question was not satisfying. David found that +he had brought up suddenly at the never-mind period. But his +close-cropped head leaned out over the edge of the crib; and his +eager eyes attentively regarded the floppy little legs of +trouvers as they were folded over the back of a chair. Then came +a sigh of resignation, and the shorn head was plumped down +resolutely upon the pillow.</p> + +<p>For the first time in many months he forgot to make a little +smacky sound with his lips as a suggestion to Mother that she +might have a kiss. Evidently such a matter was now of no +importance, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>nor did he hold out his arms to her. All such +childish ways as that had been put aside, and perhaps that is why +a wistful look came into Mother's face.</p> + +<p>After she had left David in the big, dark room, she took up some +dull-blue linen from her sewing-table. Only a short while ago she +had been stitching upon this apparel for her baby—a foolish +little dress, all edged about with a narrow lace braid.</p> + +<p>Mother sat down by the shaded lamp and slipped a finger into her +thimble. But her needle, which in the afternoon had glanced and +glinted swiftly, as the dainty braid was being fastened into +place, somehow refused to do its work. The little blue suit fell +from her hands; the thimble rolled across the floor.</p> + +<p>Hers was the bereavement which comes to every mother. It comes +upon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>her suddenly, leaving her surprised, wondering, and full of +foolish little fears that in the boyhood of her boy she may not +hold so big a place as was given her to hold through all his +babyhood.</p> + +<p>Where was the child of yesterday? Who had stolen from Mother and +her little boy the elfin charm and the sweet wonderland which, +for so long a time, had been his and hers together? Gone, as it +must always go, when the little one of to-day goes speeding on +and still on into the dust and weary prose of the hurrying +years.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>LIGHT</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/l1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="L" style="margin-right: .75em;" />eaving Mrs. Wilson, a neighbor and friend, in care of the house +while David slept, Miss Eastman set out for Dr. Redfield's +office. In her face was determination; in her hand a broken +miniature. The gentleman was to be called upon to explain, if he +could, why he had given that picture to her little boy.</p> + +<p class="noin">"I have been his mother now for four years," she meant to tell +the Doctor. "I have tried to be a good mother; I have tried my +best. Why, then, should you even suggest to him that I am not +really his mother? If you have done <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>that I must tell you that I +do not think it just. And, besides, I must ask you to make no +further additions to his wardrobe without first consulting me. He +does not look like my little boy any more. You have cut off his +curls. You said nothing to me about it; you merely cut them off. +I did not want you to do that. I would not have consented to it, +and I should like you to understand that hereafter he is to be +solely in my care, or not at all."</p> + +<p>As she rehearsed these words in her mind, Miss Eastman went +hurrying through the streets. Twilight had set in, close and +sultry, with low grumblings of thunder, and there was that +stillness in the air, that strange sense of waiting, which +precedes the storm. Gray, scarf-like films were speeding across +the black-purple sky, and were suddenly rent by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>a zig-zag quiver +of blue-white fire. The trees along the walk flamed green, and +then were dark again, and overhead a flight of pigeons clove the +air with a rushing of swift wings. An instant later a whirling +litter of straws, flapping newspapers, and dust came swishing +down the pavement, and with the coming of this first strong gust +of wind was a noise of slamming doors and the sound of windows +being quickly lowered. With the swift and vigorous whiff of storm +came the good, cooling smell of rain.</p> + +<p>Miss Eastman paid no heed. She was too indignant and too hurt to +think much about so trifling a matter as a shower, and when she +reached the house of Dr. Redfield it further exasperated her that +she should be kept waiting upon his doorstep. Twice, and a third +time, she gave the bell an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>energetic pull, but no one answered. +The gush of water from the roof tinkled loudly in the tin +drain-pipes, but throughout the dwelling there was a tomb-like +silence. Presently, though, Miss Eastman heard a "squadgy" tread +that was steadily drawing nearer. When the door was at last +cautiously opened she caught a glimpse of the housekeeper, the +discreet and red-faced Mrs. Botz. As the shiny countenance +leisurely appeared, the woman revealed two flour-coated fingers +pressed upon her heavy lips.</p> + +<p>"Herr Doctor iss maybe gone to sleep already," she whispered; +then she laughed a wheezy chuckle that shook her ponderous bust. +She pointed up the hallway to something under the light of the +oil lamp which much resembled a fat rag doll. The queer object +was shaking with strange contortions in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>place where the +hall-bell should have hung. "I play him one good trick, ain't +it?" she added. "Mit a towel I tie up the bell-knocker—zo!" She +illustrated with her flour-dusted hands. "Den I wrap him round +like one sore foot. <i>Hoffentlich</i>, nopody vill vake him up if he +iss sleeping."</p> + +<p>"But why, Mary, why should he be asleep? Is he so tired, then?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, mein lieber Gott! Do you not know? It iss Duck Town. Vonce +more yet a funeral. I know from his face it is this time maybe +one little schildt. He carry them in his eyes, the little +schildren, unt he is coming home, unt he say nudding; he cannot +eat, unt zo I know vot iss it."</p> + +<p>Although this announcement went to Miss Eastman's heart, it was +not sufficient to outweigh her resolution. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>She would speak +plainly to him. Glancing toward the office, she saw that a dim +light was shining from an open door into the hallway.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall have to go in," she said to Mrs. Botz, and +started for the office.</p> + +<p>Miss Eastman's determination was firmly fixed. Dr. Redfield must +understand once for all that hers was the exclusive guardianship +over David, and with that unwavering idea in her mind she looked +into the room. She saw him seated under the shade of the lamp in +his faded green house-robe, his shoulders more stooped than +formerly, his shaggy head sunk forward, and a greater weariness +in his face than she had ever seen in it before.</p> + +<p>All at once, as she stood looking at him, her grievances dwindled +into <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>pettiness. The words she had come to speak were dumb upon +her lips, forgotten in a womanly impulse to go to him, to put her +arms about that tired head, and to hold it as though he were +nothing more than a little boy. So, presently, when he glanced +up, it did not seem at all strange that she should be asking:—</p> + +<p>"How is it down there? Very bad?"</p> + +<p>One would have thought she had accused him of surrender. He +turned upon her with fierce irritability.</p> + +<p>"Who says we're not getting on?" he demanded. "Who says—who says +nothing can do any good?"</p> + +<p>He grasped the sides of the chair and struggled to his feet. He +stood erect like a general, his eyes suddenly lighting up with +the fire of inflexible will. Then he was seized with a trembling +fit, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>and sank back in his chair. He rubbed his hands over his +gray face; he clenched his fingers, and the knuckle of his thumb +went to his eye and got wet in doing it. And it was all so +awkward, and so boyish, and so funny, this movement of his fist +and the tear-drop on his thumb, that Miss Eastman would have +laughed if she had not been crying.</p> + +<p>"Who was it, Doctor—who was it that died to-day?"</p> + +<p>He told her who it was, and she could not believe him.</p> + +<p>"Jim Lehman's child? Not Emma—surely not little Emma Lehman? How +is that possible? Such a very short time ago it seems since I was +lending her story-books! She couldn't speak English at all when +she first came to school."</p> + +<p>"You knew her, then?"</p> + +<p>"Knew her? She was the only one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>who cried when I told them I +would not teach school any more. She gave me a present once—a +woeful, comical Christmas present, a big, clean-washed, smooth +potato. That was all she had to give, and she had tied colored +strips of tissue paper about it to make it good enough."</p> + +<p>Miss Eastman inquired about other children, one by one, as though +calling the roll. At first he evaded her questioning, giving such +vague and equivocal replies that presently she clearly understood +the situation.</p> + +<p>"It is epidemic," she said, "and you have been keeping this from +me. How long since it began?"</p> + +<p>"The worst is over," he answered, with something of the old +heartiness that made the sick take courage even in their hour of +darkest trial. But he was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>reluctant to talk much of conditions +in Duck Town; and presently, during a lull in the conversation, +Miss Eastman laid the pieces of the broken miniature on the table +before him.</p> + +<p>"Was this David's mother?" she asked.</p> + +<p>As the man took up the two parts of the broken portrait he +glanced apprehensively toward the top of his desk. The picture +which used to stand there was gone.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get this?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"As soon as they get into trousers they get into mischief," she +replied, and again she asked whether that was a picture of the +little boy's mother.</p> + +<p>With gentle fingers Dr. Redfield fitted the parts of the picture +together, sorrowfully shook his head over them, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>then, as a +wan smile creased his tired face, he said:—</p> + +<p>"David asked me if she was <i>my</i> mother. Has the little rogue been +claiming her for <i>his</i>?"</p> + +<p>Miss Eastman slowly answered: "She does look a little like—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the doctor interrupted, "more than that, I should +say—more than a little like David's mother. From the first time +I saw that poor dear woman I thought so, and yet I was never +quite sure that my fancy had not created the resemblance. It was +an unaccountable likeness, and yet so strong a one that it meant +much, very much to me."</p> + +<p>"I must take this home again," she said, "for to-morrow David is +to bring it back to you. He must tell you all about it—how he +got into trouble. We shall come early in the morning, and he will +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>stay here with Mrs. Botz, while I go with you."</p> + +<p>"Go with me?" The bushy eyebrows of Dr. Redfield raised with +inquiring astonishment.</p> + +<p>"You cannot go on forever like this," she replied. "You must let +others help. I think I can be rather useful down there in Duck +Town. I shall be here early in the morning to go with you."</p> + +<p>The Doctor said nothing. He merely clasped the woman's hand in +his two hands, and the look in his face was the look of that +little boy called David, when somebody has been good to him.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THE SUBSTITUTE</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/t1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="T" style="margin-right: .75em;" />o Mrs. Wilson, the neighbor who had spent the better part of two +hours with David, Miss Eastman was saying, "<i>Must</i> you go?"</p> + +<p class="noin">Surely it is conclusive proof of superior intelligence in +womankind that any of the sex can understand when she is wanted +and when she is not wanted, although the idea in either case is +conveyed in precisely the same words.</p> + +<p>Miss Eastman, for her part, was honestly grateful to Mrs. Wilson +for having remained with David during the early part of the +evening, but now Mrs. Wilson could go home and come again +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>another day. Miss Eastman did not say that; of course not! What +she did say was, "<i>Must</i> you go?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson saw she must. This, however, did not prevent her from +apologizing for her departure, and on the door-step still another +important subject was to be considered: the kindness of Mrs. +Wilson in staying with David. Mrs. Wilson averred that such +trifles were not to be spoken of. It was nothing at all. It had +been no trouble, indeed it had not; it had been a pleasure. Mrs. +Wilson said she believed in being neighborly.</p> + +<p>Finally, when the merits of being neighborly had been +exhaustively commented upon, the women again made preparation to +bid each other good-evening.</p> + +<p>"Come over and see us."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>"Yes, thank you, I shall."</p> + +<p>"Come over any time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I shall, thank you, and <i>you</i> come over. Don't wait for me. +I hardly go any place."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson was moving her broad and well-intentioned person +sidewise down the porch steps, which still shone wet in the broad +white light of the moon, already looking serenely out through the +changeful interstices of the breaking storm clouds. Miss Eastman +watched her safely to the bottom step, but I regret to say that +she went into the house even before her neighbor had disappeared +down the glistening front walk.</p> + +<p>Alone at last! She sighed with relief, and in the darkness of the +silent house she stole to the door of David's room that she might +listen there with some slight motherly apprehension, and then +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>peep in at the little white figure on the bed, where the +moonlight lay asleep.</p> + +<p>Behold David, not greatly changed in looks. The cutting away of +his curls did not make such a difference in him as Mother had +supposed. He was as charming to her; he was as much her own +little boy as though no meddlesome hands had even been laid upon +him. In size he was quite the same, and, as Mother stood peering +in at him, she presently heard a small, far-away voice. In it was +the whispered awe of a child who feels the bigness of the night +about him and the strangeness of silvery moonbeams on his face.</p> + +<p>"Mother!"</p> + +<p>The queerness of everything was so very big that the little boy's +voice almost got lost in it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, David, Mother is here."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>"Are you coming to bed?"</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to come?"</p> + +<p>"I got trouvers," he said. But there was no pride in this +announcement; there was a touch of disappointment. For how is it +possible to have trouvers and at the same time to call babyishly +for your mother?</p> + +<p>"Yes, David, you have them." A pause. The little boy was sitting +up, with a bare foot held meditatively in his hand. A wee, forlorn +figure of a child he was, who seemed to be listening to the +silence of the room. And by and by he was asking dispiritedly:—</p> + +<p>"You aren't—you aren't afraid, are you, Mother?"</p> + +<p>"How can I be afraid when I have a soldier-man to look out for +me? Are you afraid?"</p> + +<p>No, indeed; David was not afraid. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>He flopped suddenly back upon +the bed, and resolutely turned his face to the wall. Mother need +not sit by him.</p> + +<p>So she went back to her chair and rocked quietly, and thought of +a little child who was struggling hard to be more than a little +child. Later, as she was preparing to go to bed, she heard the +wee, sweet voice of him asking ruefully if she were not—maybe—a +little lonesome.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so, dear," she reluctantly admitted.</p> + +<p>One could see that this made a difference. If she was really +lonesome she might now come into the bedroom; she might sit by +David; she might even tell him a story if she wanted to.</p> + +<p>"If you do," he said, "it won't matter to-night. It will help you +to get use-ter to having me all grown up."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>In the trail of soft radiance across the pillow Mother could see +how wide open were the eyes of her little boy, but not long after +she had drawn a chair to the bedside the drowsy lids began to +droop.</p> + +<p>"If you're real lonesome I'll hold your hand," said David, and he +went to sleep still holding her hand.</p> + +<p>Before he was awake the next day she stood looking at her little +boy in the darkness of early morning, and she lighted the gas in +order to have a better look at him. According to an unvarying +custom, there was one wee fist cuddled under his cheek—a +wretched insurgent of a fist that had ever disdained all orders +to abide under the coverlet. Often in the night Mother had bowed +over the tiny sleeper to press her lips upon the plump, smooth +wrist before lifting the pretty arm to tuck it softly away <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>into +the quilted warmth of the bed. And during such a time it was her +wont to listen, in the fear that is never far away from the heart +of motherhood, to know if his breathing was quite regular and +sweet. It sometimes happened, when she felt the tickling thrill +of his ringlets against her cheek, that she would want to wake +him up instantly to ask if he was not a dear.</p> + +<p>But now had come a time when she felt no impulse to rouse him. The +touch of curls upon her cheek she would not feel any more. They +were gone, and that baby of hers was gone. When he presently +awoke, his greeting was characteristic of his altered condition. +He did not call to her, he did not crow with laughter of good +feeling and fine health. He merely sat up and solemnly whispered:—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>"Trouvers!"</p> + +<p>Mother assured him that they were not a dream. He could get up +now and put them on, for presently he and she would be setting +out to see their old friend, Dr. Redfield.</p> + +<p>Little David did not instantly hop out of bed, as she had +supposed he would. Little David sat very still. He looked at +Mother and at the floor. Then he suddenly lay down again and +turned his face to the wall.</p> + +<p>"You want to put them on, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Mother seemed greatly puzzled. She waited, but David did not +move. He said nothing. It was as though he had grown suddenly +deaf.</p> + +<p>"You had a fine time yesterday, didn't you?" she asked, but David +did not reply. He flattened himself against <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>the wall. And Mother +added: "It was great fun, wasn't it?—to go to the barber shop +with Doctor and afterward to get trouvers?"</p> + +<p>There was no sign of life in the little boy, until presently his +foot began to wiggle. By degrees he turned over and slowly sat +up.</p> + +<p>Mother did not seem to see him; she was seated at a low table +strewn with toilet articles that sparkled under the rays of the +gas-jet. She was dressing her hair, and her arm swung in long, +even strokes; from time to time she paused to wind something from +the teeth of the white comb about her fingers, which she +afterwards tucked deftly into a small wicker box beneath the +tilted mirror. In the meantime David was looking at her with a +very long face, and by and by he slid quietly off the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>bed and +went to her, pressing himself against her knees.</p> + +<p>"What else," she inquired, "did Dr. Redfield give you?"</p> + +<p>David did not answer. He pushed his face deep into Mother's lap.</p> + +<p>"Didn't Doctor give you something else?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The word came with smothered indistinctness, but its meaning was +unmistakable.</p> + +<p>"What, nothing?"</p> + +<p>David raised his head and caught hold of Mother's hand. He had +grown very red in the face.</p> + +<p>"Then what about the picture?" she asked, giving no heed to his +embarrassment. "Where did you get that?"</p> + +<p>Both of David's fists were now clinging fast to the woman's +hand.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>"Mother," he said, "I just tooked it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me!"</p> + +<p>"Mother, I knocked it down. It broke. I tooked it."</p> + +<p>A sudden silence had got hold of the room. The little boy's head +sank once more into Mother's lap and he shook with silent sobs. A +moist warmth went through her skirt and was felt upon her knee.</p> + +<p>"This is hard on the Doctor," she said, and her voice was firm, +but her hand gently stroked her little boy's hair. "He let you +look at the picture, and now it is spoiled. He had only the one, +and can never get another like it. You broke it, and you took it +from him. We cannot mend it; it is done for. My, my! what are we +to do?"</p> + +<p>David's arms went tight about Mother's knees. In mute anguish he +clung <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>to her, pleading for help without saying a word.</p> + +<p>"If only we had another picture!" Mother suggested.</p> + +<p>Would—would that do?</p> + +<p>All of a sudden David had stopped crying. With the wet, shiny, +tear-trails across his cheeks he looked up.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" His eyes were wide open. "In your drawer," he said, but +his voice was so small he could hardly make himself heard, "in +your drawer there is one—a fine picture!"</p> + +<p>"Is there?" Eagerness was in Mother's tone; hopefulness was in +Mother's look, but the look vanished and left nothing but +disappointment in her eyes. She had remembered a little golden +locket in a drawer of the chiffonier, a locket that held the +handsome face of a young man. She had never shown the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>picture to +her little boy, and was not aware that he knew anything about it.</p> + +<p>"That will never do," she told David. "It does not belong to you, +and it cannot be given away. It must be kept always. People care +a great deal for—some pictures. They have a meaning which is +often one of the very best things life can ever have. If you +should be taken from me, and if I should still have your picture, +that would be almost the best thing I could have. You see how it +is. If some one should take the picture, I could never get +another that would mean so much to me."</p> + +<p>They began to walk up and down the room. The little boy was +clinging to Mother's hand and he kept tangling his pink feet in +the folds of his night dress, while his tearful eyes were fixed +steadfastly upon the earnest face above him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>"Mother!" he suddenly called out, "where's my scrap-book?"</p> + +<p>David had found a way. He and Mother hurried to the bookcase. In +great haste they rummaged the shelves; magazines were pushed +aside; pamphlets and papers were pushed aside—Good! Here it was, +that scrapbook. Wild with excitement David began thumbing the +pages; he laughed; he tore some of the leaves. Then he pounced +down upon his chief treasure, a picture which Mitch Horrigan had +wanted to buy with some strips of tin, a broken Jew's harp, and a +wad of shoemaker's wax.</p> + +<p>A great masterpiece, this. To the eyes of childhood nothing could +be more beautiful. It was a pink and pensive cow with a slight +clerical expression, a very dignified animal, caught in the act +of sedately skipping the rope.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>"Splendid!" Mother exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," David answered, gasping with relief. Then he chuckled in +triumph, and Mother did, too. When the picture had been detached +from the page the little boy held it tenderly in his hands. +Nothing must happen to it until it could be used in making things +right with the Doctor.</p> + +<p>There had been so much excitement over the cow, so much delight +over securing a sacrifice to take the place of the Broken Lady, +that when Mother began to dress her little boy she imagined that +all thought of trousers had gone from him. But it was not so. +With prompt disfavor he regarded the blue suit of kilts edged +with lacy braid, and although there was reluctance in Mother's +heart, she began to look for the missing knickerbockers.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>Every mother must come to it. She must help us tug and pull at +the clumsy things even if there comes something to tug and pull +at her heart. What matter if there be a voice within her that is +crying out to the child of yesterday to linger yet a little +longer in the dear winsomeness that will so soon be gone? Call as +you will, poor mother; your boy will not heed you now, for the +way to manhood is long to travel, and we men-children cannot wait +until you, with your pretty dreams, are willing to have us go.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>SKY BLOSSOMS</h4> +<br /> + +<p class="hang"><img src="images/d1.png" align="left" border="0" alt="D" style="margin-right: .75em;" />avid had learned a trick of loudly clacking his heels upon the +walk to make it seem that he was no longer a little boy. With the +picture held firmly in his hands he went strutting proudly at +Mother's side when they fared forth this early morning for the +Doctor's house.</p> + +<p>The street was very still and smelled of yesterday's rain. In the +moist hush and semi-darkness which precedes the dawn, the +buildings were all silent and buried in mystery, and they gave +back a distinct replication of David's footstep. In response to +his question as to what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>other little boy was out of bed so +early, Mother answered:—</p> + +<p>"That is no one, David. What you hear is an echo."</p> + +<p>"Why can't I see Echo?"</p> + +<p>"One never does see him."</p> + +<p>"Is he a fairy?"</p> + +<p>"Rather."</p> + +<p>Here ended the conversation. And now, as Mother and Son trudged +onward in silence, a strange feeling came upon the little boy, +for the world at this hour was so new to him. A distant milk +wagon, resembling a block of shadow on wheels, went clattering +over the pavement, and from time to time a man smoking a pipe and +carrying a tin pail would pass by with long, swinging strides.</p> + +<p>The upper air looked different, too. At one place a tall church +spire, topped by a copper cross, was blazing with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>sunshine, and +certain windows of the high buildings also began to flame. A pink +cloud lay asleep in the blue lap of heaven, and there was a +single star, like a pale drop of fire, that trembled up there as +though it were about to fall.</p> + +<p>"What is that for?" asked David.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, my son?"</p> + +<p>"Up there, Mother—see! It is a queer eye. It winks at us."</p> + +<p>"One of the flowers of heaven, little boy; that's what it is."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever have any?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, David, because they are so hard to get."</p> + +<p>Miss Eastman felt that in the serene beauty of the morning there +was something vaguely troubling. To think that all this +loveliness of the clear dawn, all this freshness of the sweet air +which to her and to David meant the joy of an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>exquisite +fairyland, could yet mean to others only the beginning of another +day of sorrow, of death, and squalid misery! How could it be +possible that the children of Duck Town, those who should be as +happy to-day and as full of health as this little boy of hers, +were still held fast in the grip of terrifying disease?</p> + +<p>All the same, it was not a pleasant prospect to think of leaving +David with Dr. Redfield's housekeeper. As Miss Eastman considered +the situation she was suddenly seized with cowardice. She did not +want to go on to assist in the fight against contagion; she +wanted to turn back, and she began to walk more slowly, +loitering, regretting her resolution and seeking a pretext to +retreat.</p> + +<p>For all that, she presently arrived at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>the Doctor's house, and +at the door-step she was greeted by Mrs. Botz, who appeared with +a gay shawl over her head and a letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Zo early yet!" the housekeeper exclaimed. "You yust save me some +troubles. Herr Doctor say I am pleased to take you his letter."</p> + +<p>"He wasn't expecting me, then?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ich weiss nicht.</i>"</p> + +<p>"He's waiting, isn't he? He hasn't gone, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Ja, Herr Doctor he iss vendt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is too bad!" Miss Eastman exclaimed with outward +regret, with inward gratification. Her heroic purpose to help in +the routing of disease from Duck Town had at least been +postponed.</p> + +<p>She tore open the envelope which Mrs. Botz had given her, as she +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>began to read the brief communication, a slight puff of wind +stirred the wet maple boughs overhead. From the drenched leaves a +wee shower of liquid sparks came flashing down about her and the +little boy. Some of these pattering drops were caught in the soft +mesh of Miss Eastman's hair, where they trembled like rare jewels +and scattered the morning sunlight into rainbow gleams.</p> + +<p>"There they are Mother—sky-blossoms!" David called out. He +clapped his hands gayly; he was greatly excited. "They have +fallen down out of heaven, and you have caught some of them."</p> + +<p>Mother said not a word. She seized David in her arms. Her eyes +were wide open; they were as bright as the raindrops, and she was +breathing ever so fast.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>"This letter," she said, "this letter, little boy, is for you. +Listen, David, only listen.... No; let us wait until we get home +before we read our letters."</p> + +<p>When, presently, they were safely back in the House of Happiness, +this is what Mother read to her little boy on her lap:—</p> + +<p>"'<i>To Mr. David Eastman</i>.</p> + +<p>"'<span class="sc">Esteemed Sir</span>:—If you are in need of a father, I would +like the job. Will you please file my application? And will you +please ask your mother if you may have me? Ask her, David, if I +may not live at your house. Tell her, David—tell her, my little +boy, that I will be a good husband to her, and love her always.'"</p> + +<p>The child took the written page from Mother's hand and looked at +it knowingly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>"I have a letter too," she said, but she could scarcely speak; +she was trembling so, and it seemed ever so hard for her to +breathe.</p> + +<p>But indeed and indeed, hers was not a letter to be proud of. It +glowered; it smelled like a drug shop; it told her plainly that +Duck Town was no business of hers; it told her to stay at home, +to mind her own affairs and to go on being a good mother to her +little boy. But one sentence, the one at the end, was quite +different.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," it said, "for I need very much to know; tell me +whether David has not put my picture into your heart."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> + + +<h5>The Riverside Press<br /> +CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS<br /> +U.S.A.</h5> + +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Melody in Silver, by Keene Abbott + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MELODY IN SILVER *** + +***** This file should be named 18434-h.htm or 18434-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/3/18434/ + +Produced by Jeannie Howse, Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Melody in Silver + +Author: Keene Abbott + +Release Date: May 22, 2006 [EBook #18434] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MELODY IN SILVER *** + + + + +Produced by Jeannie Howse, Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +A MELODY IN SILVER + + +By KEENE ABBOTT + + + + + +BOSTON AND NEW YORK +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +The Riverside Press Cambridge +1911 + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY KEENE ABBOTT +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + +_Published April 1911_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. THE LOST CAUSE 1 + +II. RUE AND ROSEMARY 14 + +III. THE WORLD'S END 20 + +IV. DEAD SEA FRUIT 30 + +V. THE MUG OF WOE 43 + +VI. "FAV-VER" 52 + +VII. AS A FOUNTAIN IN THE DESERT 66 + +VIII. THE GONE-AWAY LADY 75 + +IX. THE CRIME OF DAVID 86 + +X. THE NIP OF GUILT 97 + +XI. APOTHEOSIS 104 + +XII. LIGHT 113 + +XIII. THE SUBSTITUTE 125 + +XIV. SKY BLOSSOMS 142 + + + + +A MELODY IN SILVER + + +CHAPTER I + +THE LOST CAUSE + + +David had a suspicion. He did not know it was that, but that is +what it was. He suspected that Mother thought he was a good +little boy, and he suspected that she thought Mitchell Horrigan +was a bad little boy. Perhaps Mother had a suspicion, too; she +might have suspected that it was Mitch who had put a certain +notion into David's head--a notion which had to do with pants. +Only you must not call them pants; they are "trouvers." + +But it doesn't really matter in the least what they are called. +Mitch had them. He also had the measles once. David did not know +whether it was the measles part or the pants part that made Mitch +a bad little boy. All David knew about it was that if he invited +Mitch into the yard to climb trees and give swimming lessons in +the high grass, it usually happened that Mother could think of +some important business for her little boy to do in the house. It +was surprising how many important matters there were for David to +do in the house every time Mitch came into the yard to play. She +might want to show him something, and perhaps it would be a +turn-over that she wanted to show him, a delicious little +half-grown pie stuffed with strawberries or with cherries. + +If Mitch were waiting out under the trees, the toothsome bit of +pastry was always a very peculiar kind. Mother believed in +generosity, but generosity with limitations. Strawberry turn-over +was not good for Mitch. Mother was positive that it was not good +for him. That seemed a little singular to David, for he had never +noticed anything wrong with Mitch. It does not seem credible that +a boy who owns a real Indian bow 'n' arrow, which shoots so high +he can knock the eye out of an angel with it, should yet be so +foolish as to have a bad stomach. + +David had never seen any of the one-eyed angels that Mitch had +knocked down out of heaven with his Indian bow 'n' arrow. Mitch +was not the kind to show all of his treasures. He didn't even +show his bow 'n' arrow. He kept it hid, so that if the police +ever found out about it they could not get it away from him. If +they wanted to arrest him for having it, that would be all +right, but they should not get hold of his Indian bow 'n' arrow. + +The thing you liked about Mitch was that he was so reasonable. +One's faith in him would never be shaken unless one were to try +his recipe for getting trouvers. In theory it was a sound recipe. +Mitch, who had reached trouvers and understood the mightiness of +the achievement, could vouch for the sure result of his +prescription. It was guaranteed to cure the dress-habit in seven +days. At first, though, Mitch would not tell how the great honor +of pants had been bestowed upon him. He was then too important +even to say, "Hello, kid!" For a time he did not deign to notice +anybody, and when he did notice anybody it was only to pretend +that David was nothing but a little girl. + +"I am not, neither." + +David filed his protest between the palings of the fence. But it +was no use. He might protest, he might cross his heart and hope +to die, but still the boy on the other side of the fence would +not believe. + +"Are, too," Mitch would say. + +Then a startled look, an appealing, hopeless fear suddenly +abashed the little boy in the dainty white dress. As he shook the +ringlets out of his eyes he asked, earnestly: + +"Why, then, am I a girl?" + +Here, you see, was another case like the bow 'n' arrow. Mitch did +not have to tell all he knew. He only got proud and spat through +his teeth and said, "Why?" right back at David. + +Such a question, you must agree, may be illuminating, but is not +satisfying. The meaning of it seems a bit indefinite and +lonesome, but if you are a little boy with ringlets it has +meaning enough. It hurts mightily. But Mitch was still not +satisfied. + +"Dear Little Curly Locks," he said with contemptible sweetness, +"oo mustn't get oo dress dirty." + +Then did David's fists clench defiantly, and he said an awful +swear. + +"Dresses!" he exclaimed derisively; "that's all you know about +it. They're kilts!" + +This defense was not convincing, for there is no good way, once +you think of it, to prove that a dress is a dress and that a kilt +is a kilt. The only way, I fear, to settle such a controversy is +to hit the other boy with a brick. Only David did not have a +brick. What he did have was a confused feeling that Mitch was +right. For might it not be true, this horrible thing about being +a girl? What if David was that, and couldn't ever get over it? + +Now, Mitch, since you are at last in trouvers, here is the time +to prove to this ignominious comrade of yours that in you are the +instincts of a gentleman. Why don't you show David that there may +be a chance for him after all? It would be proper for you to +remind him that you yourself used to wear dresses, but of course +you will make sure to speak of the disgrace as a thing of many +years ago. + +But there is no need, Mitch, in counseling David to go to +extremes. It is quite unnecessary to inform him that the way to +pants is a very simple matter. I dread to think that you are +telling him to tear his kilts "all to splinters." Of course that +can be done. You hook the skirt over a paling in the fence; then +you jump, and sometimes, David, it hurts when you hit the ground. +But what matter? You are fighting in a noble cause. Mother will +be so astonished! She will see how desperately you have outgrown +your kilts. + +Only she did not see it. She picked the splinters out of David's +hands--cruel splinters from the fence--and she was very sorry for +her little boy. And as for the dresses, it was no great matter +about them. She would make other dresses for her David. + +And that is why Mitchell Horrigan's recipe for pants is not a +good recipe. Even at the end of a week David could not report +much progress. Finally he had to acknowledge himself defeated. He +then bore the dishonor of kilts with what manfulness he could and +with a creed which was recited something like this: + +"We don't care to play with Mitch any more, do we, Mother?" + +Or again: + +"We don't care nothing about trouvers, do we, Mother?" + +Sometimes David would ask with husky heroism: + +"Curls is all right for little boys, is they not?" + +David was angry with Mitch; David was never going to speak to +Mitchell Horrigan any more. His resolution was so strong that he +hurried away to tell Mitch about it, but when the boy actually +appeared, it was hard to remember why one should be angry with +him. His brown feet came flapping along the stone walk, and in +his hand was a freshly whittled stick that made an animated +clatter when he drew it along the fence. There was that in the +reckless abandonment of Mitch which did not help David to tell +him that he was too mean and disgraceful to be spoken to. And +besides, his feelings might be hurt if one were to tell him that. +So, as Mitch came nearer and nearer, David felt guiltier and +guiltier, and presently he was surprised to hear himself asking +rather abjectly: + +"You isn't mad at me, is you, Mitch?" + +Trouvers ignored the humble salutation. He took out his knife and +began to whittle ceremoniously upon the stick. + +"What you making?" David asked tentatively. + +"Nothin' much," said Mitch, with the air of a man who has +invented steamships and flying machines. "Only a tiger trap." + +David knew better. David knew that Mitch, in his insufferable +conceit, was merely whittling to show off his new knife. So, +pressing his red mouth between two white palings of the fence, +David declared in a strong voice: + +"I have a bigger knife than that." + +The assertion was boldly made, but when Mitch asked to see the +knife, David decided not to show it. + +"Bigness don't count," said Mitch. "It's the steel." + +He breathed upon the blade to test its quality. Every boy knows +that if the film of moisture is quick to vanish, there can be no +question about the superlative merit of the knife. + +"Where did you get it?" + +David was eager to know that, but Mitch decided that he must be +going. He hadn't time to stay here any longer. He intimated that +he had important business to look after. He was going to make a +kite ten feet tall, and, with the snobbishness of a plutocrat, he +went strutting away. He was almost beyond earshot when he +volunteered this brief information: + +"My father, he guv it to me." + +Had David heard correctly? Did Mitch say "father"? The little boy +had never thought of such an article as a father except as +something which belongs to a story book. Fathers were common +enough in the story books; they were men, but until this moment +David had never thought of them as being desirable. It now +appeared that they were good for something. Mitch Horrigan had +one. He actually kept a father, and the father gave him fine +presents. + +Reflecting upon all this, David became a very quiet little boy. +There seemed to be nothing interesting for him to do. He had no +appetite for supper, and in his face was the look of one who +dreams of such mighty things as trouvers, and a hair-cut, and a +brand-new knife. And when, at last, it came time to kiss Mother +good-night, he turned appealing eyes upon her, and asked with +trembling lips: + +"Why don't _I_ never have no fav-ver?" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +RUE AND ROSEMARY + + +They are not easy to take, siestas aren't. They are the word for +going to sleep in the daytime when you would rather not. +Sometimes you have to take medicine with them, and nearly always +you feel that you must have a drink of milk. It is so easy to +discover that you are thirsty, and besides, it usually gives you +a chance to stay awake a little while longer. Frequently you find +that you don't care as much for the milk as you thought you did, +but in one way there is always a satisfaction in it. If you have +a looking-glass, you can see the white mustache the drink has +left on your lip. Another satisfaction is that if Mother forgets +to bring your milk in the mug you like best, you can send her +right back for it. + +If David wants to be particularly polite he sometimes asks Mother +to tell him her story about the young man with the mustache. She +has one that is tremendous dull because there are so many +thinking places in it. "And then--and then--" Mother will say, +and after that the story doesn't get on worth anything. The worst +about it is that it always takes such a long while for her to +reach the part which tells of the time when the young man started +to raise a mustache. + +"How did he start?" David never fails to ask. + +"By not shaving his lip." + +It is now that David feels of his white lip with the tip of his +red tongue and then stoutly declares: + +"I have not shaved _my_ lip." + +"It was brown, like your hair," says Mother, "and when it was +about half-grown it began to curl up at the ends. The boys made +fun of it, but it was very beautiful and ever so soft and fine." + +"Truly, was it?" asks David, and then something blooms pink in +Mother's cheeks. That is the one interesting thing about her +story, and up to that point he can always stand her narrative very +well; for he is always watching for the pretty pinkness. But when +that is gone, his interest goes too. It seems very ordinary to him +that this young man should have studied mechanics and become a +great engineer and invented things, and made discoveries. + +Now, if he had ever been shipwrecked, or if he had ever been +eaten up by bears, or if he had fought Indians, or done some +other notable thing with a scare in it, why, _that_ would be +worth talking about. But why tell so much about a young man who +had done none of these things? Why speak of the way she had +encouraged him and helped him and studied with him? You can see +for yourself that it was a very stupid tale. + +It was clever of David, though, to have her tell him the story, +for then she would sometimes forget that her little boy was not +having his siesta. To show her that he was trying to keep up an +interest he would now and then ask a question, as, for example, +when she spoke of the honors the young man had won at college. + +"Could he spit through his teeth?" David would inquire, and it +was always a sad thing to him that this was not one of the young +man's accomplishments. A very disappointing chap, to be sure. + +"Do you know, my little boy," Mother would say in a strange, soft +voice, "do you know that your eyes are as bright as his eyes used +to be, and that--" + +"It's a nice story," David would say courageously, and like as +not, while Mother was still talking about the handsome young man +with the mustache, her little boy would fall fast asleep. + +It is good, David, that you do not hear the story that is hid +away in the thinking places; it is good that you do not know the +worn look which sometimes comes into Mother's face and crowds +from it all the pretty pinkness that you love to see. You will +never know that other look which was often in Mother's face +before you came to nestle in her arms and frighten it away. You +have done well, brave soldier-man, for now I am right sure she +does not wonder any more why the day should have come when the +one she had helped so much should have forgotten the help and +been thankless for all the love that she had given him. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WORLD'S END + + +Sometimes, when David was working hard on his siesta, Mother +would tell him that he was to whistle as soon as the Sand Man +came. But even that doesn't always help. You have to ask so many +times to make sure that the Sand Man _hasn't_ come, and after you +have been told repeatedly that you are not yet asleep it makes +you discouraged. You know, too, that you mustn't cheat; it's not +fair to whistle until you actually see the Sand Man. + +Hardly anything is so wearing on a little boy as to wait. This is +especially true of siesta-time, when there are always such a +number of interesting things going on outside. Through the +shutter's chink the yellow sunshine comes squirting into the +room--such amazing sunshine, just as it is on circus day! Only to +think of what great events must be in progress while you and +Mother lie here together in the darkened room, and toss +hopelessly in the dreadful throes of trying to get through with +your siesta! + +One of the mean things about it is that neither side of the +pillow has any cool spot. You turn it over once more and once +more, and yet once more again, but it is no use. It is utterly +impossible to cuddle down and obey orders and go to sleep like a +brave soldier-man. The more you try it the more squirmy and itchy +you feel; for at such a time one is usually fretted by the +repeated ticklings of some bothersome fly. He will sneak along +the edge of the pillow and rub his hands together in front of +him, and then he's ready. Down he swoops upon your nose, hitting +it precisely in the same place where he lit before. + +It is easy for Mother to say, "Go to sleep, now," but what bad +shift a little boy will sometimes make of his siesta! + +There came a day in June when David believed he never in this +world could get through with it. He heard the chuck and drowsy +clack of the sprinkling-wagon as it ponderously advanced upon its +lazy way; he heard the almost whispered clucking of a mother-hen +who was calling her chicks to come shuffle with her in the cool +loose earth under the shade of the crooked old apple-tree, and +presently there came a time when the out-of-doors was all so +still that even the falling of a shadow would have made a sound. + +David was right sure of that. There was such mystery, such an +unwonted sense of unreality a-quiver in this silence, that he +wanted, very much, to learn what it was all about. Then, ever and +ever so cautiously, he slipped down off the bed. His dimpled toes +went patting daintily across the polished floor, and presently he +had stolen forth upon a great adventure. His eyes narrowed; he +winked rapidly; so dazed he was with the sunshine and the +strangeness of a world that had never looked like this before. + +He had found out where summer is. It was here in Mother's garden, +and you knew it was, for you could feel it in the stillness, and +you could see it in the sleepiness of blossoms that drowsed and +drooped and hung their lazy heads in the languishing sweetness of +good air and golden sunshine. It was all very strange and very +dear to David. The sky had never before been so blue, and never +so big nor deep nor cool, and the ground was pleasantly warm and +nice. As the seeded grass touched his ankles he could feel warm +shivers run over his legs, delightful thrills which came to him +this day for the first time. He had found out where summer is. + +David paused, and listened, and heard nothing. The whole world +was listening. By and by a honey-burdened bumblebee began talking +to himself; you couldn't quite understand what he said because he +mumbled and bumbled so. David knew he was such a very tired and +sleepy bumblebee that nobody could understand what he was talking +about; and besides, he wasn't nearly so wonderful as a big +butterfly that balanced with blazing wings upon a nodding rose. + +He was too heavy for the wee, sweet flower. David was right sure +the butterfly should have rested less heavily there, for pretty +soon the bonnie bloom came all apart and began to fall. One after +another the crimson petals slipped away, and dipped and floated +and came falling and falling down. David was confident that he +could hear the warm whisper of them as they fell, so in tune he +was with the summer and the sunshine, out here in Mother's +garden. + +It was good he had stolen forth into the ardent glory of the +noon-time, for if he had not he never would have learned about +the place where the world stops. Only a few of us have found out +about that place. You don't think about it at all, and then, +pretty soon, you _do_ think about it. The way David learned of +it was a new way. He laid him down upon the petunia bed--dear, +old-fashioned flowers, lavender and pink and white, that peeped +between the palings of the white fence--he laid him down and +smelled deep the good, queer smell of them, and like the flowers +themselves, he, too, peeped between the bars into the vast world +which lay beyond. And that is how he learned of the place where +the world stops. + +Down a long, long lane--down there, a little way past the +cottonwood tree, where the lane quits going on, that is where the +world stops. You know that is the place because of the awesomeness +that comes to you. The old cottonwood stands sentinel over that +region of the Great Beyond. So tall and big and still he is that +if you look at him awhile you will get the strange feeling of +things. High up in the glossy leaves one can sometimes hear a +little pattery sound, finer than the crinkle of tissue paper--a +pretty little sound like a quiet sprinkle of cooling rain. When he +does that he is whispering to the clouds that bring the freshness +of the summer shower. + +Beyond him, down there where the world stops, is the place where +the clouds go to sleep after their long, slow journeyings across +the deep, sweet blue of the sky. + +"What does my little boy see with his two big, shining eyes? And +what does my little boy hear?" + +It was Mother's voice above him that was thus humbly asking +admission into the strange world he had found, and so well she +knew it was marvelous fine, this world of his, that she snuggled +his cheek against _her_ cheek, and tried and tried, in her poor, +grown-up way, to understand all the pretty things the great +silent tree was whispering to the clouds. + +"Is it there?" she asked very softly and very earnestly. "Is it +down there that the clouds go to sleep?" + +And they remained together, these two, side by side, thinking +about the sweet go-to-bed place of the clouds. A silence which +was new to them, a cool and reposeful silence, had come upon them +and held them. They were conversing in a language which has no +words. It was a melody in silver--the spirit of motherhood, the +soul of childhood blending into music, bringing them nearer, +deepening their love and making it more dear to them. + +They understood each other, that woman and that little boy. They +did not move. David had taken hold of Mother's hand, and he held +to it while they kept on looking down there, afar off, where the +great silent tree was softly whispering to the summer clouds. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DEAD SEA FRUIT + + +"Why don't I never have no fav-ver?" + +Often David asked that question; upon awakening and upon going to +bed he was pretty sure to make inquiries that were never +satisfactorily answered. And now, one morning, it was a decided +relief to Mother to have him ask something else. With eager +questioning he said: + +"Am I?" + +Early, very early, he had awakened her to ask her that, for he +had been told, on going to bed, that when the day should come +again he would be four years old. Twice in the night he had +asked if he was It; so when the dawn at last showed with a +lovely pinkness in the lacy folds of the curtains, and the note +of a far-away meadow-lark called him into the glory of birthday +happiness, he wanted to be very certain that this famous period +of his life had actually come. + +Before demanding if it were quite true, he lay still awhile and +thought about it. He looked at Mother's face, and snuggled his +fingers into the fairy foam of her nightgown, but the face and +the fairy foam at her throat had not changed in the least. They +were just the same as they had been yesterday and the day before +and the day before that. + +It was very strange. He had supposed that when a little boy is +four years old, his life would be somehow--different. That is why +he was still in doubt; he was not at all sure about being four +years old. He would wake up Mother and then, if he _was_ It, she +would make him feel that he was. + +Her reassurance, though, was not nearly so satisfying as he had +hoped. + +"Yes, dear; it's your birthday. Now go to sleep awhile, my +pretty." + +David lay very still, but he did not go to sleep. By and by he +asked rather uneasily: + +"What do you do first?" + +"What do you mean, little boy?" + +"Little? _Am_ I little?" + +"Of course you're growing," Mother told him. + +But David would not be deceived. Already the suspicion had come +to him that there was nothing grand about being four years old. +It was not a success; it was a failure, and his one hope now +rested in Dr. Redfield, for this was the morning when the Doctor +had promised to waylay the little boy. + +"How does _that_ begin?" David asked. He could not think what it +was that began. + +"How does _what_ begin?" Mother inquired. + +And that was not nice nor reasonable of her. Mothers are made to +answer questions, not to ask questions, and they are so +discouraging when they can't understand about being waylaid! +David felt abused, but he decided to have one more try at her. +Then, if she didn't give him satisfaction, he would know that +Four Years Old was all a humbug. As he looked longingly into her +face, his words faltered, as though he were again expecting +disappointment. + +"Will he--will he wear his big, shiny hat when he does it?" + +Into Mother's face came a puzzled, half knowing look. She +recalled the admiration inspired in a certain little boy by a +certain abominable top hat that a certain doctor had once worn to +a certain annual meeting of the State Medical Society. But this +was the extent of her knowledge. + +"When he does what?" she asked. + +The little boy's lip trembled, and he turned away his face. He +saw it wasn't any use. Mother didn't understand; she evidently +hadn't tried. It was plain that he was not four years old; he was +only three. It is very hard on little boys to be only that old +when they have made up their minds to be four. So, when David was +being dressed, he suffered all the while with a severe case of +what is commonly called pouts, but which in reality is something +much sadder. + +"My, my!" said Mother, as she drew a stocking over the pink toes +of his right foot, "one mustn't look like that on his birthday." + +"It is not my birthday," he said, not impertinently, but politely +and woefully. + +Even a pair of new shoes did not prove that this was his +birthday, and yet they helped to prove it. One gets them at such +times as Christmas and birthdays, and such a delightful squeak +was in these shoes that David could scarcely eat his breakfast +for wanting to walk about in them. If a circus should come to +town, he would now be ready for it; he had the shoes. And +besides, there were tassels on them--wonderful tassels. It is +much easier to be a brave soldier-man if they have tassels. + +Do you know what it is to be a brave soldier-man? Well, to be +that, one must be kind and sweet and unselfish and do right. And +doing right is doing mostly what you don't want to do. To wash a +lot--that is right; to keep your fingers out of the pie--that is +right; to keep your hands from spilling mucilage on the cat's +back--that is right. If you make dents with a tack-hammer in +Mother's piano, that is not right; that is a surprise. + +The only safe way of doing right is to think of what you would +rather do, and then do something else. But often this is such +hard work that sometimes one doesn't care much about being a +brave soldier-man. + +For all that, it's jolly fine to have soldier shoes. They came to +David in time to save his faith in the business of being four +years old. It now began to have a glad feel about it, and he +walked perkily to the garden's edge, and like a new Columbus +about to discover a fresh world, climbed up experimentally and +sat on the gate-post. + +He was not at all sure that this was a proper place to get +waylaid, but something monstrous fine would of course happen +before long; there could be no doubt about that. How people would +be astonished when they came along and found that he had grown to +be four years old! + +Who would be the first, he wondered, to be shocked and surprised +at him? While he was thinking of that, his eyes suddenly +brightened with excitement. The street-sprinkler, the dear old +street-sprinkler, was coming! David's heart beat faster as he +listened to the slow creak and clacking oscillation of the heavy +wheels. Then came the damp, dusty, good smell which always +brought to him such a sense of mysterious romance! No prince out +of a fairy story could be more marvelous to him than the coatless +driver up there on the seat under his great canvas umbrella that +had advertisements printed on it. Always when the street-sprinkler +passed, David had watched it covetously, and now was his chance. +He would proclaim himself. He would not have to wish--and +wish--and wish any more about it. That proud place up there by the +driver was for him. He didn't doubt it in the least; he called; he +called lustily; he kicked his new shoes against the fence-post and +called: + +"Here I am! See, right down here!" + +But will you believe it, now? The driver didn't look at him. +Perhaps the lazy clamor of the wagon and the hissing sound of +the steadily gushing water made too big a noise for the voice of +such a little boy to be heard. + +Do you call that any way for the street-sprinkler man to act? But +of course there might be some good reason for such criminal +behavior. David remembered that he hadn't consulted any fairy +godmother about it; long since he would have done so, only he +could never catch any fairy godmothers hanging around. They were +always busy somewhere else. Even Mother herself had failed to +introduce him to any competent, respectable fairy godmothers. She +was all right on telling about them; she was strong on that, but +somehow they never seemed to know when they were wanted. That is +their great fault; they are so unreliable. Once let them get +loose from a Cinderella book, and their business system is +always defective. + +How, then, can a little boy expect to accomplish any miracles +like riding on the street-sprinkler? It is not reasonable; David +himself decided that it wasn't, and he concluded to try something +more feasible, something that looked simple and easy and more +natural. Next time he would do better. Why shouldn't he? When one +is four years old, nearly anything ought to be possible. All he +had to do was to await another opportunity, and then pounce down +on it. + +This time, though, it was slow in coming, and when it did come it +didn't look much like an opportunity. It was too easy. In shape +it was a very ragged man with a very dirty face and a very red +nose and a very greasy hat. He came by, a-munching on an apple, a +big apple, a crispy-sounding apple, a shiny ripe and luscious +apple. How cool it would feel in a little boy's hands if he were +to hold it tight and then take a big, sweet, juicy bite out of +it! + +Should David accept the remainder of the man's apple? No, that +would not be right; little boys must not be greedy. Just the +teeniest, weeniest, wee bite would be quite sufficient for him. + +But, heigh-ho and alack-aday! the dirty-faced man and the +red-nosed man and the man with the greasy hat passed slouchily +on, a-munching and a-crunching of his apple. + +That was enough. David cast himself down from the fence-post of +deception and was off for the house, his arm before his eyes, and +his new shoes creaking dolorously. He must find refuge in +Mother's lap; she must help him to soothe away his hurt; he must +have solace for this wretched failure of great hopes. + +But before reaching her, David suddenly found himself seized by +some mysterious force which sent him floating into space. Back +and forth he swam like, a pendulum, and when he alighted, it was +on a man's shoulder, and the man was Dr. Redfield. + +"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked. + +David would not be comforted. He struggled to the ground. + +"What's the use?" he demanded between sobs. "What's the use of +being four years old?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MUG OF WOE + + +"New shoes! Where in the world did we get new shoes?" + +Dr. Redfield was the first to rightly appreciate the grandeur of +them, and he was delighted to hear how they could squeak. Land +sakes! but they were wonderful. Greatly astonished he was, and so +swollen with pride was the little boy that he didn't care--not so +very much--even if his old friend had failed to put on his top +hat. + +"Are you going to do it?" + +That was David's first question. He was rather anxious, because +he did not believe that this big comrade of his had come +properly attired to waylay anybody. + +"Surely I am." + +The Doctor was prompt, but puzzled. He didn't know _what_ he was +going to do. Then, for a space, man and boy looked at each other +inquiringly. They were both waiting and they were both wondering. + +"Has it begun to start yet?" + +There was expectancy in David's voice. + +"You mean, I suppose--that is--" + +"Yes, yes! _You_ know!" David gravely wagged his head. + +The Doctor took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his +handkerchief. + +"If you were a little more definite--not quite so vague and +uncertain," he hopelessly suggested. + +It was then that a sudden inspiration saved the day for him. He +began to talk in a big and solemn voice. + +"I perceive, sir," he said, "that you have reached the age for +being waylaid. You are four years old, and by an ancient decree +of all the Medes and Persians, that makes you my prisoner, to +hold in hostage until that ungracious dame, your mother, shall +subscribe unto me suitable and sufficient ransom." + +David clapped his hands gleefully. + +"Go on!" he demanded. "Go on! Now what?" + +"Well, when you have all that said to you, it means that if you +find a doctor skulking about within ten feet of you, it is then +your perfect right to press him into your service. If you command +him to give you a ride on his back, he will have to do it. It's +undignified and he doesn't believe in it, but that's where you +have him at your mercy. He _has_ to obey; he has to go any place +you tell him to go. If you say he must take you to a toy shop, +that settles it. He has no choice in the matter. He _has_ to do +it. That is always the rule when a little boy is four years old." + +David also learned that there is another peculiar thing about it. +In circumstances like this a little boy has the right, when he +arrives at the toy shop, to choose for himself the thing he wants +to buy. No grown-up will interfere with his judgment; the law +won't allow it. The trouble is that it is pretty hard for him to +make up his mind. When there is such a great array of drums and +swords and soldiers' caps and guns and bears that jump, it is not +an easy thing to select the toy that will please him most of +all. + +Why not buy a train of cars and a track to run it on? But if he +bought that, then how could he get along without a jumping-jack +that threw up its arms and legs when you pulled the string? And +if he took the jumping-jack, then what about an iron savings bank +with a monkey on top that shook his head with thanks when you +dropped the money in? Lovely things, all of them, but David put +them from him. He did it with decision, but with a nervous haste +which told of wavering courage. + +Such things were not for him. They are only for boys who are not +soldier-men. And besides, they might cost too much. If the price +went higher than five cents David would be lost, for many +precepts had been forced upon him in regard to the waste of +money, and the value people put on it, and the way they have to +work for it. So thus far the nickel had marked the very summit of +his financial transactions. + +All the same, a strange wistfulness came into David's eyes when +he put aside poor jumping-jack. Such a dear of a jumping-jack he +was! You could have kissed the jolly red paint of him, and the +pretty toy bank was a thing to hug tight under your arm. That is +why the little boy's voice was such a weak and far-away voice +when he presently asked:-- + +"Would two five centses get him, do you think?" + +"When it's your birthday," said the Doctor, "it's all right to +spend three five centses." + +Here, then, was David's chance. The jumping-jack was almost his, +when his shoes squeaked a warning. Thus suddenly was he reminded +that he was a brave little soldier-man. He now saw that such a +purchase would be ridiculous. Something serviceable is what he +must have, something that Mother would like and want him to keep. +No silly toys for him! But, oh, if only the Doctor would insist a +little on the jumping-jack! + +David turned reluctantly away; he choked down the queerness in +his throat and firmly laid hands on a gilt-rimmed mustache cup. +His lips twitched and his eyes winked, but the look in his face +was the look of a soldier-man. No intervention from the Doctor +could shake his determination. + +With coaxing insinuation the Doctor said, "We haven't seen all +the things, you know." + +Hope kindled in David's eyes. + +"Maybe," he said with enthusiasm, "maybe this costs more than +three five centses. Does it?" + +"Wouldn't you rather have a drum?" asked the salesman. + +No, indeed; David would not have a drum. + +"Or a sword?" asked the Doctor. + +"No, thanks," the words came with husky politeness. + +The cup was the thing for him; it would please Mother. She would +be so glad about the cup! + +Here, again, was disappointment. She didn't seem pleased with +it--not nearly so pleased as she should have been. But never +mind, little boy; every generous heart is quick to forget the +unselfish kindness that is in it, and you yourself will not be +slow to forget this foolish sacrifice you have made for love of +one who has made many a sacrifice for you. She has made them, +little boy, in love, and forgotten them in love, and that, David, +is the beautiful thing in loving. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"FAV-VER" + + +When David is an early bird it is great fun to show Mother what a +sluggard she is. He calls to her to let her know it is getting-up +time, and then she is _so_ amazed! She cannot understand how it +is possible for her little boy to get awake almost as soon as the +robins do. Sometimes she asks if he is sure he is awake, and he +tells her he is sure of it, and then she believes him. + +Only this morning she did not ask that, and this morning there +was no smile in her eyes. A strange intentness had taken all the +summer look out of her face, and there were no kisses on her +lips; for he had troubled her with that repeated demand of his to +be supplied with a father. + +"Whose boy," she asked hesitatingly, "whose boy are you?" + +David returned her steadfast gaze with a queer, impish wisdom. He +sat up in bed and fixed his eyes upon her. + +"Whose boy?" he slowly repeated. "Why, I'm fav-ver's boy." + +"Have you a father?" asked the woman. + +"If you get one for me I have." + +"David," she said, more serious than was usual with her, "if you +had one I should want him to look like you.... Here, little boy, +here, in your face I see your father." + +The woman had moulded her cool hands to David's smooth, soft +cheeks, and was looking wistfully into the eyes of her little +boy. But abruptly he struggled free from her; he slipped to the +floor, mounted on a chair in front of the chiffonier and peeped +excitedly into the mirror. A long time he looked at the +tousle-headed reflection that looked earnestly back at him. He +frowned, and the boy in the glass frowned, too. He was a great +disappointment, that boy; he wasn't the teeniest bit like any +father that ever was. He was only a child in a white nighty. + +David faced about; he got down off the chair, and he turned his +accusing eyes upon Mother. She had fooled her little boy; she had +told him a wrong story, and it was woful disillusionment. + +"You cannot see him, David," she said, "because you have no +picture of him in your heart." + +Well, then, did Mother have such a picture? If she did, why +could she not show him that picture? And please, Mother, where +did she keep that heart where the picture was? + +Yes, to be sure, she had such a picture, but it was not of +David's father; it was of someone else, for she had never seen +David's father. In her heart was still another picture: it was a +memory which had to do with the sad nativity of her little boy. +So sad an event it was that she had left off being a head nurse +at the hospital, in order to become a mother by proxy. + +David might some day come to know that there was a fogyish, +bachelor doctor who was almost a father in the same sort of +way--almost, but not quite, for the child had been left not to +him, but to her. A home, likewise, was her inheritance, a very +pretty little home and all else that had once belonged to the +real mother of the little boy. + +A brave death she had died, that kinless widow at the hospital. +And how could it have been otherwise, when so large a faith was +hers in the nurse whose arm had gone lovingly around her, and +whose voice, many and many a time, had given comfort and had +known finally how to smooth the way to death? + +But it was the Doctor's hand, not the hand of the nurse, that had +gently closed the mother's eyes upon her last long sleep; and it +was he, not the nurse, who had turned wofully away, and stared +and stared and stared out of the window. + +Grave pictures were these that Mother kept in her heart, and +David was not to know how much he troubled her when he fell to +questioning; and that is why, in the midst of his endless +inquiries, he was wont to encounter the Great Never Mind. + +Do you know what that is? It is a condition of soul common to all +mothers who have little boys that want to know things. + +The worst of it is that one is expected to understand when he is +never to mind and when he _is_ to mind. They are not the same +thing; they are twins, and they are so hard to tell apart, and so +disagreeable, and act so much alike that only an expert can tell +which is which. + +But Mother was an expert. She knew when you must and when you +mustn't; she had a talent for it. She also had a gift for telling +David that she would see. If he wanted to go swimming with Mitch +Horrigan in the creek near town, she said she would see about it, +but somehow she never did get it seen about. + +That was one great difference between her and Dr. Redfield. He +did not say he would see; if given half a chance he always _did_ +see, and there was something so magical about him that one felt +he was good for a miracle most any time. For all that, it was +hard to ask him for anything, for when in his presence one always +felt so queer and bashful and overpowered with the strange +medicine smells which were such a big part of him. Yet David now +felt that no boy has any right to hope for a father if he hasn't +spirit enough to ask for one. So firmly convinced of this was the +little boy that early in the morning he made up his mind as to +what he would do. It was something very daring and very naughty. +He was going to run away. + +He did it, too, and the awfulness of it got into his throat; for +the Doctor lives farther away from David's house than China is. +It is almost at the end of things, and the little boy did not +know whether he could find it. What was even worse, he presently +did not know whether he could get back home again. He had crept +through the fence and run and run, and then walked and walked, +and now he had decided that he didn't care much about going on. +Some other time would do as well; to-morrow would be all right. +This did not feel like a lucky day; some other day would be +luckier. + +David felt very virtuous. It seemed to him that he had not meant +to run away at all. He was not a bad little boy; he was a good +little boy, but he soon began to feel annoyed; for the way home +didn't have any straightness to it; the way home began to get +more and more crooked, and the houses began to seem strange and +unfriendly; they stared at him rudely, and none of them looked +either like home or like the Doctor's house. + +The sad thing was that he had only one way to tell which was the +Doctor's house, and that was a wrong way. He was looking for a +yellow dog that scratched his head with his toenails and knocked +his elbow on the board-walk when he did it. Such a dog once lay +in front of the Doctor's house. So now, as David kept going and +going on, he was looking out for a yellow dog that should knock +with his elbow when he scratched his head with his toenails. Once +a black dog did it, but that was stupid of him; he needn't try to +fool David. + +After a long, long while a great tiredness came upon the little +boy, and there was such a grinding ache in him that he knew +hungry-time had come. He passed a bakeshop that breathed out a +warm, steamy fragrance, and in the window there was a great pan +of red-brown doughnuts dusted over with powdered sugar. As the +smell was like the smell of the bakeshop near home, and as the +doughnuts looked the same, David instantly plucked up courage. He +hurried on, confident that he would soon be climbing up into +Mother's lap. It was some time, though, before he found a house +with a white paling, and he was distrustful of the house; it had +no curtains, and it scowled so. He decided to experiment first +with the fence-post. Maybe the house would look more reasonable, +and maybe things would feel different if he were to climb up on +the fence-post. So presently, when he was perched above the gate, +he closed his eyes and began kicking his heels as he did when at +home. + +This was another experiment; for every boy knows that you cannot +hope to see any fairies or any fairy godmothers unless you take +them by surprise. David, for his part, frequently gave them to +understand that he wasn't looking. He would shut his eyes tight +and kick his feet to prove that he was minding his own business. +If they saw him like that, maybe they wouldn't care if he was so +close to them. After convincing them that his intentions were +honorable, he would suddenly pop open his eyes to catch them at +their tricks. + +Once he almost saw them. The tulip bed had seemed to dance in the +sunlight like a whirlpool of scarlet and yellow fire; then it +stopped abruptly, but the blossoms still nodded and stirred, even +after the wild dance was done. He was confident that he had come +very near to seeing the fairies, but now he did not want to see +them. They had done something to the house where Mother lived, +and he wanted them to undo it. He would not look. They would +please understand that this time he did not mean to deceive them. + +"Cross my heart," he murmured very solemnly, and gave the pledge. + +But it did no good. They would not undo the queer things they had +done to the house. They were spiteful and mean, and not to be +trusted. The house remained without trees and vines, a scowling, +ugly thing. The garden had no shrubs; the seeded grass was matted +down and yellow, like hay, and there were bald places where the +gray ground was showing through. + +They did not know, those foolish fairy folk, of the courage and +the faith that may be in the heart of a little boy. They might be +stubborn if they chose; they might keep him waiting, but in the +end they would not abuse his patience. All would come right. Only +it did take such a long, long while for it to get that way! +Hungry-time is very hard on little boys when they are waiting for +things to come right, and it was so hard on David that twice he +called aloud for Mother. A wooden echo, sent back from barns and +sheds, dolefully repeated the last syllable of his cry. It was +sad mockery, but David held doggedly to his belief that finally +things would come right. His hands closed rigidly upon the sides +of the fence-post, and from beneath the tight-shut eyelids slow +tear-drops were squeezing out. + +It was so that Dr. Redfield found him. With medicine-case in +hand, the physician had come down the walk from the desolate, +scowling house. As he seized the child in his arms, and as he +felt the small arms of David go about his neck, the word that +greeted him was "Fav-ver!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +AS A FOUNTAIN IN THE DESERT + + +The magic that is in the touch of a little boy! There is nothing +like it to drive out the weariness from a heart that knows it +must not grow too tired. So now, when Dr. Redfield left the house +where he had been, it meant much to him that there should be such +a welcome awaiting him at the gate. It was a gray and worn smile, +but still a smile that answered the child's unexpected greeting, +and as the wee arms went tight about the man's neck he asked no +questions; he merely said:-- + +"I wish I were, little boy--I wish I were your father. We would +have a rest, wouldn't we? We would take time to know each +other." + +As he said this there came into the Doctor's face the same look +which he had just seen in the eyes of the father and mother who +were trusting to him to save their little boy. Many times other +fathers and other mothers had made that mute appeal to him, and +he had done what he could for them. He had done all that could be +done. He was doing it to-day, and he had been doing it every day +these past eight weeks that had been as twenty years to him. + +For a scourge had come, and the city was trembling in the fear of +it. Again Duck Town was responsible. Duck Town always was +responsible. Every spring when the floods came, and Mud Creek +spread itself out over the prairie, only the ducks of Duck Town +were secure. Then, when the waters subsided, there came malaria, +or perhaps something worse, from the musty cellars that could not +be drained. The settlement lay in the bottoms, where the wretched +dwellings of the poor stood huddled together as if in whispered +conspiracy about some black contagion of a deadlier malice than +any that had yet struck terror to the hearts of men. + +Several years ago it was typhoid fever that had helped many +people to move out of Duck Town. A very badly behaved disease it +was. It came right up into the city and went stalking brazenly +into the most stately homes along the wooded avenues and +beautiful boulevards. + +Next after the ravages of typhoid came diphtheria in its most +malignant form, and this time--Heaven help us!--this time scarlet +fever had come. And this time, as before, there were competent +physicians to receive the plague; there were specialists and +careful nurses with snowy aprons and pretty caps. + +But not in Duck Town. Down there the people knew a man whom they +called the Old Doctor. He was not old, not really; it was merely +that he had the manner of a veteran. He browbeat them shamefully, +as was perfectly proper for an old doctor; he bullied them a +great deal, and scolded, and called names, and worked for them, +and did not know how to sleep. That made them fear and respect +him, but goodness knows what made them love him. They did, +though--feared, respected, and loved the man. + +Only he could not teach them to be sanitary. He knew their names, +their silly Russian names and their silly Polish names; he knew +their Slavic and their Bohemian names, but their language he did +not know, and all the hygiene they could learn was to call for +him when sickness and trouble came to them. + +"Keep clean," he would say. "Drain your cellars; air out and keep +clean; do try to keep clean!" + +But how could they do that? Four big families in one small house +do not help much to keep one small house both clean and sanitary. +Dr. Redfield knew that, and he swore at Duck Town for a vile and +filthy hole. So did the people swear at Duck Town, and many of +them suddenly stopped living there. For, despite the strength and +courage of their champion; despite the potency of drugs; despite +the sleepless nights and days spent in fighting disease, the +deadly contagion grew and spread. + +Dr. Redfield had gone through epidemics before, but never one +like this, and now his energy was gone. For the first time in his +life the impulse had come upon him to own defeat and surrender. +Other men, younger doctors than he, should take up the fight. As +for him, he could not battle against such odds. He would give it +up; he would go away. He would take this little boy with him and +begin to live. + +"I'll do it," he said, pressing David's face against his hollow +and unshaven cheek. "I'll do it, little boy; I will be your +father." + +Then David asked encouragingly: + +"Is it your picture that Mother keeps in her heart?" + +"No, David; not mine, I'm afraid." + +This was a sad blow to the little boy. A very solemn look came +into his face. + +"You won't do," he said, "unless you can get your picture into +Mother's heart." + +For a second time Dr. Redfield smiled, and then he asked: + +"How did you get here?" + +David did not answer the question; perhaps he did not hear what +was said to him. A thoughtful look had come into his face, and +presently he was asking, with great earnestness in his voice: + +"Why have I got curls for? Why don't I have trouvers? Why don't I +have warts on me?" + +Dr. Redfield was walking hand in hand with the little boy at his +side. They were going toward the place where the horse and buggy +stood waiting, and as they strode along the little boy kept +falling over his chubby legs. It was hard for him to go so fast, +for he was very tired, and besides, he was looking up into the +man's face. + +"Warts aren't nice for little boys," said Dr. Redfield. "You and +I don't want them on _us_, do we?" + +"Don't I, please?" said David, very earnestly. Then he wanted to +know if he could not be born in Indiana. That is where Mitch +Horrigan had been born, and he was always bragging about it. But +the Doctor didn't seem to be in a conversational humor. He made +no reply to David's request, and that vexed the little boy. He +suddenly let go of the man's hand and stood still. Then the +Doctor stopped, too, and asked what was wrong. It was now that +David closed his fist upon his thumbs and frowned savagely. + +"I am not," he declared; "I am not neither a girl, am I?" + +The reply of his big friend was consoling, but not satisfying, +and it was some time before the man again felt the little, soft +fist in his hand and saw the little boy looking wistfully up into +his face. + +"If only I had a few of them, Fav-ver Doctor," said David, "only +just a few little warts!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE GONE-AWAY LADY + + +Proud business for David! Sitting on the edge of the seat of the +buggy, he was holding the reins very tight. One must always do +that if he does not want the horse to kick and run away. Not +knowing that the horse was tied to the hitching-post, David was +fulfilling his mission with ceremony, and when Dr. Redfield +appeared from the door of a drug shop across the way, the little +boy called to him gayly:-- + +"He didn't run away, did he? I held him all right, didn't I?" + +Dr. Redfield had been absent long enough to use the telephone in +notifying Miss Eastman, whom David knew only by the sweeter name +of Mother, that her little boy had been waylaid and would +probably not be home to luncheon. She was not permitted to know +that the pretty rogue had run away, but the man himself strongly +suspected the truth. For some time, though, he charitably +refrained from speaking of the matter. In fact, three important +events in David's life took place before the painful subject was +broached. + +To eat at the Doctor's table, and wholly without the assistance +of a high chair--that was one of the events; another was a +hair-cut, and the third--Everybody, salute! David is in trouvers! + +He and his big friend both admired them immensely, and it was in +the little shabby, out-at-the-elbow doctor's office that David +had been helped to put them on. After he had strutted for a +while his Fav-ver said to him:-- + +"What fun, David; what fun you must have had in running away!" + +"Oh," the little boy replied, "I didn't go far. I got scart and +hurried back to Mother." + +The Doctor looked wryly at his guest. He knew David had not gone +home after running away. + +"Did you see Mother after you went back?" he asked. + +"No, I didn't see her." + +"But you are sure you went back?" + +"It didn't _feel_ back," said David. + +"You couldn't have been mistaken about going back?" + +"No." + +"In what part of town were you when I found you on the +fence-post?" + +"Home," said David. + +"Why were you crying?" + +"I was feeling bad." + +"And why was that?" + +"I was scart." + +"Of what?" + +"Everything was so mixed up." + +"You ran away, though, didn't you? And you did not see Mother +after you went back?" + +David nodded, and the Doctor got to his feet with a suddenness +that knocked over his chair. + +"Good gracious!" he exclaimed, consulting his watch. "It's been +four hours since you saw Mother, and she may think something has +happened to you. She may think you have been run over by +horses--that you have been hurt and can never come home to her +any more." + +What was to be done about it? Dr. Redfield wanted to know that; +David wanted to know that. The man crinkled up his forehead: he +rose and began to walk the floor, and David's eyes did not leave +his face. + +"What are we to do?" the Doctor asked, and by and by he added, +"If you see a policeman I hope you will tell him you are not lost +and that you did not think of making so much trouble when you ran +away. But what about Mother? Maybe she, too, has been looking +everywhere for you." + +The Doctor sat down and wiped his face, and then got up and began +to walk about once more. You could see that he was very much +distressed, but not more distressed than David. In sad perplexity +they stared at each other. After everything had grown very still +in the room, the little boy suddenly exclaimed in an awed +voice:-- + +"Let's go home!" + +"Well said!" the Doctor called out, and David flew for his hat; +they started for the stairs, the little boy clinging desperately +to the man's hand. + +"Wait!" the Doctor exclaimed. They had stopped abruptly before +reaching the steps. "Why don't we telephone? If we do that, it +won't keep Mother waiting so long." + +It was now that David's eyes began to gleam. He clapped his +hands; he laughed and he danced. He was going to put Mother's +heart at rest about him. She would not be troubled any more. She +would know he was safe. + +After the message had gone, it was easy to see in David's face +that he was glad he had not run away very far. Fav-ver Doctor had +not blamed him, but Fav-ver Doctor had made him understand how +much trouble it makes when little boys run away. + +"That's what it was all about," said David. + +"You mean, I suppose--" + +"Fairies don't like it if I run off. That's why they changed +things around so. I hardly knew the house; it was fixed so +queer." + +"Yes," the Doctor assented, "it looked shocking queer. How did +you ever know the place?" + +"They didn't change the fence much," said David, and the man now +recognized the one point of similitude between that desolate home +down in Duck Town and the House of Joy where David lived. + +So grim was the contrast that the Doctor winked uneasily, for it +brought him back to a problem he had thought settled. He had +really meant to take a vacation. He was so tired; no one knew +quite, how very tired he was, and he had thought that for a brief +while he was justified in leaving the fight to some one else. He +only wanted a week or so--a little chance to live, to play with +this little boy, and perhaps be happy! Yet, after all, dared he +leave those people to other hands when they were counting so on +him, and had so little else to count upon? What, he asked, would +she, the Gone-Away Lady, have counseled him to do? + +Rather nervously he sought the eyes of a miniature on top of his +desk, and as he looked into the eyes of that sweet-faced woman, +the old comfort he always used to see in them when he had stood +most in need of strength, was no longer there. "In the face of so +much misery," they seemed to say, "how can you think of +forsaking the field?" + +It was not a picture of David's mother; no, it was a likeness +that had ever kept the Doctor's heart alive to gracious thoughts +and gentle ways; it was the portrait of her who had not lived to +be his wife, and a habit had come to him of fancying in the eyes +of his patients something of the same beautiful look that was in +the miniature. Particularly he had done so when David's mother +was struggling hard not to go away from her little boy, and +often, since then, the Doctor had compared the face of the +picture with that of the child; and to-day, as he was wont to do, +he took the dainty bit of porcelain in his hand to see if he +could not trace, feature by feature, the likeness he so loved to +imagine. + +The way of this was very interesting to David. He stood by the +Doctor's chair and leaned his elbows on the knees of his friend, +with his plump chin in the wee, white hands. + +"Is it your mother?" he questioned. + +The Doctor smiled. + +"No, David, but she would have been a good mother." + +"Who is it?" + +"It is some one," the Doctor slowly replied, "who would have +loved you very, very much." + +"Where is she now?" + +"She went away, little boy; years ago, David, she went away from +me." + +"_I_ never saw her," said the child. + +"No, David, we cannot see her, but if we keep our hearts open and +our lives all sweet and clean, we can be sure she is not far +away." + +The little boy had listened attentively, but he could not +understand, and after careful examination of the picture, he +presently asked: + +"When is she coming back again?" + +Dr. Redfield had nothing further to tell. He crossed the room, +and hastily replaced the miniature upon the top of the high +desk. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE CRIME OF DAVID + + +It is not pleasant to be a criminal; it hurts. David knew he was +one, and although he did not know what crime he had committed, he +imagined that he was now being punished for it. The idea came to +him on account of the way the Doctor was acting. The man had +gently replaced the miniature upon the top of the desk, and +afterward he stood motionless, sunk deep in revery. The little +boy was trying to guess what he had done. It must be very, very +wrong, or else Fav-ver Doctor wouldn't be standing there like +that. He would talk and take notice. David knew this was so, +but, try as he might, he could not think what sin he was guilty +of. It was a great puzzle, and, in truth, David was frequently +puzzled in the same way. For the laws which grown-ups have for +little boys are so much like any other kind of laws that it is +hard to get any justice out of them. + +Without knowing what it was, David keenly felt his disgrace. The +glory of being in the Doctor's house; the glory of sitting at +table in an ordinary chair; the glory of a hair-cut, and even the +glory of trouvers--each of these mighty events was now shorn of +its charm. Everything had grown sadly commonplace; for there can +be no satisfaction in achieving greatness, if one is so soon to +be forgotten. So now, with the passing of every instant, things +were growing more and more solemn. + +Doubtless the chair on which David was sitting was partly to +blame. It was such a slippery seat that if one didn't hold on +tight he would be sure to slide right off. There were stickery +things in it, too, for the hair-cloth was getting all worn out. + +The little boy sat politely on the stickery things and waited. If +he waited long enough, maybe Fav-ver Doctor would smile at him as +Mother always did. At the present time, though, one could hardly +believe that there were ever any smiles in Fav-ver Doctor's +face--he was looking so hard and so long at nothing at all. + +Everything in the room was feeling lonesome and guilty and bad; +and worst of all was the clock. It was a big, upright, colonial +clock, and its counting of time was done with deep and stately +deliberation. If he would only strike the hour, that would help. +David remembered with what dignity the clock could strike. The +brazen reverberations of each stroke always lingered awhile +before the next one came, and then, when all of them had been +struck, and the last ringing beat had throbbed and swooned into a +whisper, and died, one always felt that other strokes would +follow. One looked for them, and waited for them, but they did +not come. To-day nothing seemed to come but the regular, echoing, +church-like tick-tock, and to-day there was no diversion of any +kind; there was only a large, dark, depressing awesomeness. + +It is very scareful for a little boy when he feels himself grown +to be such a criminal. Immense periods of time seem to be +slipping away, but he doesn't know at all whether he is getting +to be really and truly a man, or whether he is getting littler +and littler. There is always the fear of diminishing, because one +would so like to be grown up, and when one is such a bad little +boy, how can he expect ever to be grown up? David felt himself +slipping and slipping. He was slipping back into three-years-old. +From that he would go into two-years-old, and before very long he +would be only one. He knew it was coming on. There was a tingling +flush going down his back, a cold current, like ants with frozen +feet. Maybe it was only perspiration, but how was a little boy to +know that? He was gasping with excitement when he suddenly called +out: "Here I am!" + +The idea was that the Doctor should instantly seize him and save +him from being dissolved into empty air. But no sooner had David +called than he was overcome with shame. At first he was +astonished that his voice should really be _his_ voice. There was +no change in it--not the slightest--and he now saw that he had +only fooled himself. That is why he was ashamed. He was so +ashamed that he began to cry. + +That would not do at all. Fav-ver Doctor said it wouldn't, and he +was so distressed about it that he offered David the rare +privilege of wearing his watch. At any other time the little boy +would have been mightily set up over the honor, but at such a +time as this no distinction of any sort was for him. He did not +deserve it. He had disgraced himself too much for that, and he +pushed the watch from him. He kicked his feet against the chair +and rudely exclaimed: + +"Don't want your watch!" + +In some ways Dr. Redfield was not different from most of us. So +many years had passed since he was a little boy that he had +forgotten that what appears to be only sullenness may in reality +be something quite different. Perhaps if he had been more like +his normal self instead of being a very tired and a very +irritable doctor he would not have considered it necessary to +regard David with the eye of stern discipline. But however that +may be, the man pivoted suddenly upon his heel and marched out of +the room, leaving the little boy alone to brood at his leisure +upon the sad impropriety of being rude. + +David wanted to go with the Doctor, but the man would have +nothing to do with any little boy who cries without any reason +for crying and is saucy besides. David could not go. David must +sit still on that chair and must not get up. + +"I don't like you," the child called out. + +Then, as soon as the door was shut upon him, he became a very +angry little boy. He pounced from his seat and began to walk +heavily up and down the room. He stamped his feet; he shut his +teeth together and he kicked the chair where he had been sitting. +He had not been fairly dealt with, and now, as Mitch Horrigan +would say, he was going to be just as rotten bad as ever he +could. + +But it was useless to stamp so loud and clench his fists. There +was no one to hear him and there was no one to see him. Neither +was there any satisfaction in knocking over a chair. The outlook +was utterly hopeless. There didn't seem to be any good way of +being bad. + +Presently, though, David had an inspiration. He would get hold of +the picture the Doctor had talked about so foolishly. David would +get it and have a look at it. Surely that would be very naughty +indeed. David was confident of that, for the Doctor had been so +extremely nice in handling the little miniature. + +Only there was one great difficulty which stood in the way of +this famous campaign of badness. David encountered this +difficulty when he had dragged a chair in front of the high desk. +Even by standing on the chair he was not tall enough to reach the +picture; even by standing tippy-toe he could not reach it. There +was left but the one alternative--he must jump for it, but when +he did that he knocked it off. It fell with a loud clack to the +floor and broke in two. + +Then terror seized the heart of David. He did not mean to break +the lady; honestly he did not, and now--oh, oh!--what was to +be done? The little boy did not have much time to think about it. +He heard a heavy tread on the stairs and knew the Doctor was +coming. + +Perhaps it would do to say that the picture had fallen off itself +and got broken, or maybe it would be better to say that the +fairies had done it, or maybe-- + +Now, at last, David knew the thing to do, and did it. When the +Doctor came into the room the little boy was sweetly but not +serenely in his place. He was sitting upright in his chair, as +though he had not stirred a hair's breadth during the man's +absence, but in the eyes of David was a feverish lustre, and the +little body of him was all of a tremble. + +"I didn't understand about the crying," Dr. Redfield announced, +and he was very humble. It did not seem odd to him that he should +come to confessional before this little boy. He believed that he +had judged too hastily, and he was come to make it right. "Maybe +you were lonesome," he said. "Maybe you wanted Mother." + +David said nothing, and the Doctor went on with that wistful +tenderness which comes to us when we feel we have not been just +with those we love. + +"You _do_ like me, don't you, David?" + +But the little boy could not answer; he was crying so. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE NIP OF GUILT + + +Little David was not well; little David was hot and red. + +After he had been gently laid in the crib he turned restlessly, +and from time to time a gasping sob shook his whole body, for he +had cried himself to sleep. He had fallen into a fitful slumber +while in the Doctor's buggy, and had not awakened when carried +into the house. + +"A little feverish," said Mother, as she pressed her cool hand +upon his forehead. + +The Doctor said nothing, but in his eyes, as he bent over the +little boy, there was something sinister. It was his fighting +face, and it was saying to David: + +"You shall not be sick, little boy. I won't have it." + +All the weariness of the man was gone; all his dreary +discouragement was gone. He stood erect, a soldier ready to do +battle against disease which for these past weeks had been +choking out the life of little children. + +As the Doctor hurried away he was upbraiding himself for having +been absent from his patients not less than three whole hours. +Gross negligence, this! He had no right to play so long with +David, and now he would not take the time to tell Miss Eastman of +all the great things they had been doing. + +But indeed no words of explanation were required to tell her of +one thing that had been done. Without any assistance she soon +discovered a substantial reason why her little boy was so +restless, and this reason proved to be a miniature. She found +the two pieces of it hid away in his blouse at the very place +where they would be most uncomfortable to lie upon. But even +after she had relieved David of this source of trouble, he still +turned and tossed and talked in his sleep. + +She could not understand what he was saying, but the face painted +on porcelain seemed easily understood. How, Miss Eastman asked +herself, had he come by that picture? Who had given it to her +little boy, and what had he been told about the beautiful face? + +An impulse had suddenly come upon the woman to hide it away, or +better yet, to destroy it utterly. But there was no time for +that. As if from an electric shock, David had flounced over on +his side, and now he sprung bolt upright. Confused emotions +struggled in his face; his hands searched his blouse, and as they +failed to find what they were searching for, there came such a +look of terror into his eyes that Mother instantly produced the +miniature. + +"Who is it, dear?" she asked. + +With the same sort of agility which had come to him when he had +heard the Doctor's footstep on the stair, David seized the pieces +of porcelain, and with fumbling eagerness he slipped them back +into his blouse. + +"It's mine!" he called out. He scowled fiercely, as though +expecting some one to dispute his claim. + +"Where did you get it?" + +"Up there," he said. + +"Up where?" + +Again the little boy was silent, but Mother insisted on more +definite information. Three times she asked how he had come into +possession of the picture before he would speak again. When he +did so he scowled more heavily than at first, and exclaimed: + +"I won't not tell you!" + +"But why, David; why not tell Mother about it?" + +The child evaded a direct reply. + +"Doctor will be mad at me," he said. + +"Did he give it to you?" + +The little boy nodded. + +"Did he say you were not to tell me?" + +Again the little boy nodded. + +"Did he tell you who it was?" + +Now that the wrong story was so well started, David was inspired +to make it a good one. To do that he would use part of the truth, +but unfortunately he could not recall much of what Dr. Redfield +had said about the picture. There was but one word that had stood +out prominently in the talk, and that was the word "Mother." It +was a relief to David to remember that, and he blurted out his +information with cruel finality. + +"This," he said, holding the pieces of the miniature together, +"is mother." + +"But how can you have two mothers?" Miss Eastman inquired, with a +smile that was not a good smile. "Tell me, David, tell me whose +mother am I?" + +"You?" he asked with puzzled anxiety. Then he stopped short. It +is not easy to steal pictures and tell wrong stories about them. +He did not know what to do. Everything was against him, and he +began to cry again. + +It was now that Miss Eastman passionately seized the little boy +in her arms. + +"Don't you believe that!" she exclaimed, her words throbbing with +the hurt he had given her. "I am your mother, David--I!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +APOTHEOSIS + + +After declaring that she alone was David's mother, Miss Eastman +was called away to the telephone. It was Dr. Redfield inquiring +anxiously about the little boy. Pulse normal, temperature normal, +no symptoms of any sort, she told the physician, but she could +scarcely control her voice to answer his questions. There was a +tightness in her throat, and she spoke with crisp brevity, +instead of detailing anything of what had passed between her and +David. + +When she had hung up the receiver and gone back to the child, she +took him in her lap and tried to entertain him with a book of +"Mother Goose" jingles, turning the pages slowly and concealing +her emotion under the silliness of the nursery rhymes. In the +midst of her comical recital about Jack and Jill who went up the +hill, she suddenly exclaimed: + +"What great fun it was to be with Doctor!" + +No matter how much she might try to divert her little boy, he was +only indifferently amused; but presently he remembered something +which, for the time being, caused him to forget the broken and +pilfered miniature. + +"Mother," he exulted, "Mother, I got 'em! They have pockets--deep +pockets. You don't hardly know me, do you?" + +David began strutting up and down the room; he stood still, with +legs wide apart, and then dug his fists deep into his pockets. + +Of course mother was astounded. It required only a little +make-believe on her part to indicate that this was some strange +boy whom she had never seen before. The surprising change in him +had impressed her so disagreeably that she had been in no mood to +speak of it. Even as she had taken off the wide-brimmed sailor +hat, when David reached the house in Dr. Redfield's arms, she had +made no comment on the close-cropped, flaxen head. She had of +course remarked each detail of the little boy's altered +appearance, but what she had seen even more clearly was the look +in the man's face when he had told her that her little boy was +not well. It was this that she had seen at a glance, and it was +this that she had taken deeply to heart, but now she diligently +tried to enter into the spirit of trouvers. + +All of a sudden the earnest look in David's face was swept away +by a smile. His little legs began to dance; his hands danced, and +his piping laughter danced best of all. Making a prancing dash +for Mother's skirts, he demanded that she smell the good, barber +smell of his hair. But she laughed such a queer laugh, as she +gathered him up in her arms, that the gleefulness suddenly went +out of him. + +"I'm afraid," she said, "I'm afraid there's not enough left of +your hair to smell." + +The suspicion came to David that Mother was not glad. Instead of +applauding his fine hair-cut, she had a silly way of asking what +had been done with the curls. + +This is the way mothers act sometimes when they want to be +downright discouraging. David showed how he felt about it by +asking if supper wouldn't soon be ready, and throughout the meal +he bore himself with dignity. Although it is not easy to pass the +rolls when one's arms are so short and the plate is so large and +wobbly, the little boy was sure that to-night he was reaching a +surprising distance across the table. Surely Mother must have +been impressed with this new and astonishing length of arm. + +When it came bed-time, David felt it would be weakness on his +part, now that he was almost grown to be a man, to allow Mother +to continue her absurd habit of sitting beside him while he went +to sleep. He told her very delicately that in the future she need +not go to so much trouble. He was resolved not to be such a +nuisance. Hereafter he would always go to sleep all by himself. + +But in beginning this practice he did not think it advisable to +take off his trousers. Perhaps he would not feel so man-grown if +he took them off; perhaps the kilts-and-blouse feeling would come +on him in the night, unless he were consciously secure in +knickerbockers. + +"I--I couldn't keep them on, could I, Mother?" The question came +plaintively, from the very depths of his desire. + +"But, David," said Mother, "if you wear them out by sleeping in +them, then how are you to get any more? And besides, don't you +think they need a rest as well as you?" + +Anybody could see the logic of that. David reluctantly permitted +his trousers to be taken off, and he was particularly eager to +see that they should have honorable treatment. He had a +misgiving that Mother did not know where they should properly be +stowed for the night, and his doubt thus found expression: + +"Where does Doctor put his?" + +The result of the question was not satisfying. David found that +he had brought up suddenly at the never-mind period. But his +close-cropped head leaned out over the edge of the crib; and his +eager eyes attentively regarded the floppy little legs of +trouvers as they were folded over the back of a chair. Then came +a sigh of resignation, and the shorn head was plumped down +resolutely upon the pillow. + +For the first time in many months he forgot to make a little +smacky sound with his lips as a suggestion to Mother that she +might have a kiss. Evidently such a matter was now of no +importance, nor did he hold out his arms to her. All such +childish ways as that had been put aside, and perhaps that is why +a wistful look came into Mother's face. + +After she had left David in the big, dark room, she took up some +dull-blue linen from her sewing-table. Only a short while ago she +had been stitching upon this apparel for her baby--a foolish +little dress, all edged about with a narrow lace braid. + +Mother sat down by the shaded lamp and slipped a finger into her +thimble. But her needle, which in the afternoon had glanced and +glinted swiftly, as the dainty braid was being fastened into +place, somehow refused to do its work. The little blue suit fell +from her hands; the thimble rolled across the floor. + +Hers was the bereavement which comes to every mother. It comes +upon her suddenly, leaving her surprised, wondering, and full of +foolish little fears that in the boyhood of her boy she may not +hold so big a place as was given her to hold through all his +babyhood. + +Where was the child of yesterday? Who had stolen from Mother and +her little boy the elfin charm and the sweet wonderland which, +for so long a time, had been his and hers together? Gone, as it +must always go, when the little one of to-day goes speeding on +and still on into the dust and weary prose of the hurrying +years. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +LIGHT + + +Leaving Mrs. Wilson, a neighbor and friend, in care of the house +while David slept, Miss Eastman set out for Dr. Redfield's +office. In her face was determination; in her hand a broken +miniature. The gentleman was to be called upon to explain, if he +could, why he had given that picture to her little boy. + +"I have been his mother now for four years," she meant to tell +the Doctor. "I have tried to be a good mother; I have tried my +best. Why, then, should you even suggest to him that I am not +really his mother? If you have done that I must tell you that I +do not think it just. And, besides, I must ask you to make no +further additions to his wardrobe without first consulting me. He +does not look like my little boy any more. You have cut off his +curls. You said nothing to me about it; you merely cut them off. +I did not want you to do that. I would not have consented to it, +and I should like you to understand that hereafter he is to be +solely in my care, or not at all." + +As she rehearsed these words in her mind, Miss Eastman went +hurrying through the streets. Twilight had set in, close and +sultry, with low grumblings of thunder, and there was that +stillness in the air, that strange sense of waiting, which +precedes the storm. Gray, scarf-like films were speeding across +the black-purple sky, and were suddenly rent by a zig-zag quiver +of blue-white fire. The trees along the walk flamed green, and +then were dark again, and overhead a flight of pigeons clove the +air with a rushing of swift wings. An instant later a whirling +litter of straws, flapping newspapers, and dust came swishing +down the pavement, and with the coming of this first strong gust +of wind was a noise of slamming doors and the sound of windows +being quickly lowered. With the swift and vigorous whiff of storm +came the good, cooling smell of rain. + +Miss Eastman paid no heed. She was too indignant and too hurt to +think much about so trifling a matter as a shower, and when she +reached the house of Dr. Redfield it further exasperated her that +she should be kept waiting upon his doorstep. Twice, and a third +time, she gave the bell an energetic pull, but no one answered. +The gush of water from the roof tinkled loudly in the tin +drain-pipes, but throughout the dwelling there was a tomb-like +silence. Presently, though, Miss Eastman heard a "squadgy" tread +that was steadily drawing nearer. When the door was at last +cautiously opened she caught a glimpse of the housekeeper, the +discreet and red-faced Mrs. Botz. As the shiny countenance +leisurely appeared, the woman revealed two flour-coated fingers +pressed upon her heavy lips. + +"Herr Doctor iss maybe gone to sleep already," she whispered; +then she laughed a wheezy chuckle that shook her ponderous bust. +She pointed up the hallway to something under the light of the +oil lamp which much resembled a fat rag doll. The queer object +was shaking with strange contortions in the place where the +hall-bell should have hung. "I play him one good trick, ain't +it?" she added. "Mit a towel I tie up the bell-knocker--zo!" She +illustrated with her flour-dusted hands. "Den I wrap him round +like one sore foot. _Hoffentlich_, nopody vill vake him up if he +iss sleeping." + +"But why, Mary, why should he be asleep? Is he so tired, then?" + +"Ach, mein lieber Gott! Do you not know? It iss Duck Town. Vonce +more yet a funeral. I know from his face it is this time maybe +one little schildt. He carry them in his eyes, the little +schildren, unt he is coming home, unt he say nudding; he cannot +eat, unt zo I know vot iss it." + +Although this announcement went to Miss Eastman's heart, it was +not sufficient to outweigh her resolution. She would speak +plainly to him. Glancing toward the office, she saw that a dim +light was shining from an open door into the hallway. + +"I think I shall have to go in," she said to Mrs. Botz, and +started for the office. + +Miss Eastman's determination was firmly fixed. Dr. Redfield must +understand once for all that hers was the exclusive guardianship +over David, and with that unwavering idea in her mind she looked +into the room. She saw him seated under the shade of the lamp in +his faded green house-robe, his shoulders more stooped than +formerly, his shaggy head sunk forward, and a greater weariness +in his face than she had ever seen in it before. + +All at once, as she stood looking at him, her grievances dwindled +into pettiness. The words she had come to speak were dumb upon +her lips, forgotten in a womanly impulse to go to him, to put her +arms about that tired head, and to hold it as though he were +nothing more than a little boy. So, presently, when he glanced +up, it did not seem at all strange that she should be asking:-- + +"How is it down there? Very bad?" + +One would have thought she had accused him of surrender. He +turned upon her with fierce irritability. + +"Who says we're not getting on?" he demanded. "Who says--who says +nothing can do any good?" + +He grasped the sides of the chair and struggled to his feet. He +stood erect like a general, his eyes suddenly lighting up with +the fire of inflexible will. Then he was seized with a trembling +fit, and sank back in his chair. He rubbed his hands over his +gray face; he clenched his fingers, and the knuckle of his thumb +went to his eye and got wet in doing it. And it was all so +awkward, and so boyish, and so funny, this movement of his fist +and the tear-drop on his thumb, that Miss Eastman would have +laughed if she had not been crying. + +"Who was it, Doctor--who was it that died to-day?" + +He told her who it was, and she could not believe him. + +"Jim Lehman's child? Not Emma--surely not little Emma Lehman? How +is that possible? Such a very short time ago it seems since I was +lending her story-books! She couldn't speak English at all when +she first came to school." + +"You knew her, then?" + +"Knew her? She was the only one who cried when I told them I +would not teach school any more. She gave me a present once--a +woeful, comical Christmas present, a big, clean-washed, smooth +potato. That was all she had to give, and she had tied colored +strips of tissue paper about it to make it good enough." + +Miss Eastman inquired about other children, one by one, as though +calling the roll. At first he evaded her questioning, giving such +vague and equivocal replies that presently she clearly understood +the situation. + +"It is epidemic," she said, "and you have been keeping this from +me. How long since it began?" + +"The worst is over," he answered, with something of the old +heartiness that made the sick take courage even in their hour of +darkest trial. But he was reluctant to talk much of conditions +in Duck Town; and presently, during a lull in the conversation, +Miss Eastman laid the pieces of the broken miniature on the table +before him. + +"Was this David's mother?" she asked. + +As the man took up the two parts of the broken portrait he +glanced apprehensively toward the top of his desk. The picture +which used to stand there was gone. + +"Where did you get this?" he questioned. + +"As soon as they get into trousers they get into mischief," she +replied, and again she asked whether that was a picture of the +little boy's mother. + +With gentle fingers Dr. Redfield fitted the parts of the picture +together, sorrowfully shook his head over them, and then, as a +wan smile creased his tired face, he said:-- + +"David asked me if she was _my_ mother. Has the little rogue been +claiming her for _his_?" + +Miss Eastman slowly answered: "She does look a little like--" + +"Yes," the doctor interrupted, "more than that, I should +say--more than a little like David's mother. From the first time +I saw that poor dear woman I thought so, and yet I was never +quite sure that my fancy had not created the resemblance. It was +an unaccountable likeness, and yet so strong a one that it meant +much, very much to me." + +"I must take this home again," she said, "for to-morrow David is +to bring it back to you. He must tell you all about it--how he +got into trouble. We shall come early in the morning, and he will +stay here with Mrs. Botz, while I go with you." + +"Go with me?" The bushy eyebrows of Dr. Redfield raised with +inquiring astonishment. + +"You cannot go on forever like this," she replied. "You must let +others help. I think I can be rather useful down there in Duck +Town. I shall be here early in the morning to go with you." + +The Doctor said nothing. He merely clasped the woman's hand in +his two hands, and the look in his face was the look of that +little boy called David, when somebody has been good to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE SUBSTITUTE + + +To Mrs. Wilson, the neighbor who had spent the better part of two +hours with David, Miss Eastman was saying, "_Must_ you go?" + +Surely it is conclusive proof of superior intelligence in +womankind that any of the sex can understand when she is wanted +and when she is not wanted, although the idea in either case is +conveyed in precisely the same words. + +Miss Eastman, for her part, was honestly grateful to Mrs. Wilson +for having remained with David during the early part of the +evening, but now Mrs. Wilson could go home and come again +another day. Miss Eastman did not say that; of course not! What +she did say was, "_Must_ you go?" + +Mrs. Wilson saw she must. This, however, did not prevent her from +apologizing for her departure, and on the door-step still another +important subject was to be considered: the kindness of Mrs. +Wilson in staying with David. Mrs. Wilson averred that such +trifles were not to be spoken of. It was nothing at all. It had +been no trouble, indeed it had not; it had been a pleasure. Mrs. +Wilson said she believed in being neighborly. + +Finally, when the merits of being neighborly had been +exhaustively commented upon, the women again made preparation to +bid each other good-evening. + +"Come over and see us." + +"Yes, thank you, I shall." + +"Come over any time." + +"Yes, I shall, thank you, and _you_ come over. Don't wait for me. +I hardly go any place." + +Mrs. Wilson was moving her broad and well-intentioned person +sidewise down the porch steps, which still shone wet in the broad +white light of the moon, already looking serenely out through the +changeful interstices of the breaking storm clouds. Miss Eastman +watched her safely to the bottom step, but I regret to say that +she went into the house even before her neighbor had disappeared +down the glistening front walk. + +Alone at last! She sighed with relief, and in the darkness of the +silent house she stole to the door of David's room that she might +listen there with some slight motherly apprehension, and then +peep in at the little white figure on the bed, where the +moonlight lay asleep. + +Behold David, not greatly changed in looks. The cutting away of +his curls did not make such a difference in him as Mother had +supposed. He was as charming to her; he was as much her own +little boy as though no meddlesome hands had even been laid upon +him. In size he was quite the same, and, as Mother stood peering +in at him, she presently heard a small, far-away voice. In it was +the whispered awe of a child who feels the bigness of the night +about him and the strangeness of silvery moonbeams on his face. + +"Mother!" + +The queerness of everything was so very big that the little boy's +voice almost got lost in it. + +"Yes, David, Mother is here." + +"Are you coming to bed?" + +"Do you want me to come?" + +"I got trouvers," he said. But there was no pride in this +announcement; there was a touch of disappointment. For how is it +possible to have trouvers and at the same time to call babyishly +for your mother? + +"Yes, David, you have them." A pause. The little boy was sitting +up, with a bare foot held meditatively in his hand. A wee, forlorn +figure of a child he was, who seemed to be listening to the +silence of the room. And by and by he was asking dispiritedly:-- + +"You aren't--you aren't afraid, are you, Mother?" + +"How can I be afraid when I have a soldier-man to look out for +me? Are you afraid?" + +No, indeed; David was not afraid. He flopped suddenly back upon +the bed, and resolutely turned his face to the wall. Mother need +not sit by him. + +So she went back to her chair and rocked quietly, and thought of +a little child who was struggling hard to be more than a little +child. Later, as she was preparing to go to bed, she heard the +wee, sweet voice of him asking ruefully if she were not--maybe--a +little lonesome. + +"I'm afraid so, dear," she reluctantly admitted. + +One could see that this made a difference. If she was really +lonesome she might now come into the bedroom; she might sit by +David; she might even tell him a story if she wanted to. + +"If you do," he said, "it won't matter to-night. It will help you +to get use-ter to having me all grown up." + +In the trail of soft radiance across the pillow Mother could see +how wide open were the eyes of her little boy, but not long after +she had drawn a chair to the bedside the drowsy lids began to +droop. + +"If you're real lonesome I'll hold your hand," said David, and he +went to sleep still holding her hand. + +Before he was awake the next day she stood looking at her little +boy in the darkness of early morning, and she lighted the gas in +order to have a better look at him. According to an unvarying +custom, there was one wee fist cuddled under his cheek--a +wretched insurgent of a fist that had ever disdained all orders +to abide under the coverlet. Often in the night Mother had bowed +over the tiny sleeper to press her lips upon the plump, smooth +wrist before lifting the pretty arm to tuck it softly away into +the quilted warmth of the bed. And during such a time it was her +wont to listen, in the fear that is never far away from the heart +of motherhood, to know if his breathing was quite regular and +sweet. It sometimes happened, when she felt the tickling thrill +of his ringlets against her cheek, that she would want to wake +him up instantly to ask if he was not a dear. + +But now had come a time when she felt no impulse to rouse him. The +touch of curls upon her cheek she would not feel any more. They +were gone, and that baby of hers was gone. When he presently +awoke, his greeting was characteristic of his altered condition. +He did not call to her, he did not crow with laughter of good +feeling and fine health. He merely sat up and solemnly whispered:-- + +"Trouvers!" + +Mother assured him that they were not a dream. He could get up +now and put them on, for presently he and she would be setting +out to see their old friend, Dr. Redfield. + +Little David did not instantly hop out of bed, as she had +supposed he would. Little David sat very still. He looked at +Mother and at the floor. Then he suddenly lay down again and +turned his face to the wall. + +"You want to put them on, don't you?" + +Mother seemed greatly puzzled. She waited, but David did not +move. He said nothing. It was as though he had grown suddenly +deaf. + +"You had a fine time yesterday, didn't you?" she asked, but David +did not reply. He flattened himself against the wall. And Mother +added: "It was great fun, wasn't it?--to go to the barber shop +with Doctor and afterward to get trouvers?" + +There was no sign of life in the little boy, until presently his +foot began to wiggle. By degrees he turned over and slowly sat +up. + +Mother did not seem to see him; she was seated at a low table +strewn with toilet articles that sparkled under the rays of the +gas-jet. She was dressing her hair, and her arm swung in long, +even strokes; from time to time she paused to wind something from +the teeth of the white comb about her fingers, which she +afterwards tucked deftly into a small wicker box beneath the +tilted mirror. In the meantime David was looking at her with a +very long face, and by and by he slid quietly off the bed and +went to her, pressing himself against her knees. + +"What else," she inquired, "did Dr. Redfield give you?" + +David did not answer. He pushed his face deep into Mother's lap. + +"Didn't Doctor give you something else?" + +"No." + +The word came with smothered indistinctness, but its meaning was +unmistakable. + +"What, nothing?" + +David raised his head and caught hold of Mother's hand. He had +grown very red in the face. + +"Then what about the picture?" she asked, giving no heed to his +embarrassment. "Where did you get that?" + +Both of David's fists were now clinging fast to the woman's +hand. + +"Mother," he said, "I just tooked it." + +"Oh, dear me!" + +"Mother, I knocked it down. It broke. I tooked it." + +A sudden silence had got hold of the room. The little boy's head +sank once more into Mother's lap and he shook with silent sobs. A +moist warmth went through her skirt and was felt upon her knee. + +"This is hard on the Doctor," she said, and her voice was firm, +but her hand gently stroked her little boy's hair. "He let you +look at the picture, and now it is spoiled. He had only the one, +and can never get another like it. You broke it, and you took it +from him. We cannot mend it; it is done for. My, my! what are we +to do?" + +David's arms went tight about Mother's knees. In mute anguish he +clung to her, pleading for help without saying a word. + +"If only we had another picture!" Mother suggested. + +Would--would that do? + +All of a sudden David had stopped crying. With the wet, shiny, +tear-trails across his cheeks he looked up. + +"Mother!" His eyes were wide open. "In your drawer," he said, but +his voice was so small he could hardly make himself heard, "in +your drawer there is one--a fine picture!" + +"Is there?" Eagerness was in Mother's tone; hopefulness was in +Mother's look, but the look vanished and left nothing but +disappointment in her eyes. She had remembered a little golden +locket in a drawer of the chiffonier, a locket that held the +handsome face of a young man. She had never shown the picture to +her little boy, and was not aware that he knew anything about it. + +"That will never do," she told David. "It does not belong to you, +and it cannot be given away. It must be kept always. People care +a great deal for--some pictures. They have a meaning which is +often one of the very best things life can ever have. If you +should be taken from me, and if I should still have your picture, +that would be almost the best thing I could have. You see how it +is. If some one should take the picture, I could never get +another that would mean so much to me." + +They began to walk up and down the room. The little boy was +clinging to Mother's hand and he kept tangling his pink feet in +the folds of his night dress, while his tearful eyes were fixed +steadfastly upon the earnest face above him. + +"Mother!" he suddenly called out, "where's my scrap-book?" + +David had found a way. He and Mother hurried to the bookcase. In +great haste they rummaged the shelves; magazines were pushed +aside; pamphlets and papers were pushed aside--Good! Here it was, +that scrapbook. Wild with excitement David began thumbing the +pages; he laughed; he tore some of the leaves. Then he pounced +down upon his chief treasure, a picture which Mitch Horrigan had +wanted to buy with some strips of tin, a broken Jew's harp, and a +wad of shoemaker's wax. + +A great masterpiece, this. To the eyes of childhood nothing could +be more beautiful. It was a pink and pensive cow with a slight +clerical expression, a very dignified animal, caught in the act +of sedately skipping the rope. + +"Splendid!" Mother exclaimed. + +"Yes," David answered, gasping with relief. Then he chuckled in +triumph, and Mother did, too. When the picture had been detached +from the page the little boy held it tenderly in his hands. +Nothing must happen to it until it could be used in making things +right with the Doctor. + +There had been so much excitement over the cow, so much delight +over securing a sacrifice to take the place of the Broken Lady, +that when Mother began to dress her little boy she imagined that +all thought of trousers had gone from him. But it was not so. +With prompt disfavor he regarded the blue suit of kilts edged +with lacy braid, and although there was reluctance in Mother's +heart, she began to look for the missing knickerbockers. + +Every mother must come to it. She must help us tug and pull at +the clumsy things even if there comes something to tug and pull +at her heart. What matter if there be a voice within her that is +crying out to the child of yesterday to linger yet a little +longer in the dear winsomeness that will so soon be gone? Call as +you will, poor mother; your boy will not heed you now, for the +way to manhood is long to travel, and we men-children cannot wait +until you, with your pretty dreams, are willing to have us go. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SKY BLOSSOMS + + +David had learned a trick of loudly clacking his heels upon the +walk to make it seem that he was no longer a little boy. With the +picture held firmly in his hands he went strutting proudly at +Mother's side when they fared forth this early morning for the +Doctor's house. + +The street was very still and smelled of yesterday's rain. In the +moist hush and semi-darkness which precedes the dawn, the +buildings were all silent and buried in mystery, and they gave +back a distinct replication of David's footstep. In response to +his question as to what other little boy was out of bed so +early, Mother answered:-- + +"That is no one, David. What you hear is an echo." + +"Why can't I see Echo?" + +"One never does see him." + +"Is he a fairy?" + +"Rather." + +Here ended the conversation. And now, as Mother and Son trudged +onward in silence, a strange feeling came upon the little boy, +for the world at this hour was so new to him. A distant milk +wagon, resembling a block of shadow on wheels, went clattering +over the pavement, and from time to time a man smoking a pipe and +carrying a tin pail would pass by with long, swinging strides. + +The upper air looked different, too. At one place a tall church +spire, topped by a copper cross, was blazing with sunshine, and +certain windows of the high buildings also began to flame. A pink +cloud lay asleep in the blue lap of heaven, and there was a +single star, like a pale drop of fire, that trembled up there as +though it were about to fall. + +"What is that for?" asked David. + +"What do you mean, my son?" + +"Up there, Mother--see! It is a queer eye. It winks at us." + +"One of the flowers of heaven, little boy; that's what it is." + +"Did you ever have any?" + +"Oh, no, David, because they are so hard to get." + +Miss Eastman felt that in the serene beauty of the morning there +was something vaguely troubling. To think that all this +loveliness of the clear dawn, all this freshness of the sweet air +which to her and to David meant the joy of an exquisite +fairyland, could yet mean to others only the beginning of another +day of sorrow, of death, and squalid misery! How could it be +possible that the children of Duck Town, those who should be as +happy to-day and as full of health as this little boy of hers, +were still held fast in the grip of terrifying disease? + +All the same, it was not a pleasant prospect to think of leaving +David with Dr. Redfield's housekeeper. As Miss Eastman considered +the situation she was suddenly seized with cowardice. She did not +want to go on to assist in the fight against contagion; she +wanted to turn back, and she began to walk more slowly, +loitering, regretting her resolution and seeking a pretext to +retreat. + +For all that, she presently arrived at the Doctor's house, and +at the door-step she was greeted by Mrs. Botz, who appeared with +a gay shawl over her head and a letter in her hand. + +"Zo early yet!" the housekeeper exclaimed. "You yust save me some +troubles. Herr Doctor say I am pleased to take you his letter." + +"He wasn't expecting me, then?" + +"_Ich weiss nicht._" + +"He's waiting, isn't he? He hasn't gone, I hope." + +"Ja, Herr Doctor he iss vendt." + +"Oh, that is too bad!" Miss Eastman exclaimed with outward +regret, with inward gratification. Her heroic purpose to help in +the routing of disease from Duck Town had at least been +postponed. + +She tore open the envelope which Mrs. Botz had given her, as she +began to read the brief communication, a slight puff of wind +stirred the wet maple boughs overhead. From the drenched leaves a +wee shower of liquid sparks came flashing down about her and the +little boy. Some of these pattering drops were caught in the soft +mesh of Miss Eastman's hair, where they trembled like rare jewels +and scattered the morning sunlight into rainbow gleams. + +"There they are Mother--sky-blossoms!" David called out. He +clapped his hands gayly; he was greatly excited. "They have +fallen down out of heaven, and you have caught some of them." + +Mother said not a word. She seized David in her arms. Her eyes +were wide open; they were as bright as the raindrops, and she was +breathing ever so fast. + +"This letter," she said, "this letter, little boy, is for you. +Listen, David, only listen.... No; let us wait until we get home +before we read our letters." + +When, presently, they were safely back in the House of Happiness, +this is what Mother read to her little boy on her lap:-- + +"'_To Mr. David Eastman_. + +"'ESTEEMED SIR:--If you are in need of a father, I would like the +job. Will you please file my application? And will you please ask +your mother if you may have me? Ask her, David, if I may not live +at your house. Tell her, David--tell her, my little boy, that I +will be a good husband to her, and love her always.'" + +The child took the written page from Mother's hand and looked at +it knowingly. + +"I have a letter too," she said, but she could scarcely speak; +she was trembling so, and it seemed ever so hard for her to +breathe. + +But indeed and indeed, hers was not a letter to be proud of. It +glowered; it smelled like a drug shop; it told her plainly that +Duck Town was no business of hers; it told her to stay at home, +to mind her own affairs and to go on being a good mother to her +little boy. But one sentence, the one at the end, was quite +different. + +"Tell me," it said, "for I need very much to know; tell me +whether David has not put my picture into your heart." + + + + +The Riverside Press +CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS +U.S.A. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Melody in Silver, by Keene Abbott + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MELODY IN SILVER *** + +***** This file should be named 18434.txt or 18434.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/3/18434/ + +Produced by Jeannie Howse, Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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