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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/8413-h.zip b/8413-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a51182 --- /dev/null +++ b/8413-h.zip diff --git a/8413-h/8413-h.htm b/8413-h/8413-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d949cc --- /dev/null +++ b/8413-h/8413-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8550 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii" ?> +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + +<head> +<title> The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Bishop's Shadow, by I.T. Thurston </title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"/> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + h1,h2,h3,h4 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps } + h1 { margin-top: 2em } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + img { border-style: none } + --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bishop's Shadow, by I. T. Thurston + +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: The Bishop's Shadow + +Author: I. T. Thurston + +Posting Date: October 7, 2012 [EBook #8413] +Release Date: July, 2005 +First Posted: July 8, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BISHOP'S SHADOW *** + + + + +Produced by Dave Maddock and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>The Bishop's Shadow</h1> + +<p align="center"><strong>by</strong></p> + +<h2>I.T. Thurston</h2> + +<p align="center"><i>Author of "Boys of the Central," "A Genuine Lady" etc.</i></p> + +<p align="center"><strong>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY M. ECKERSON</strong></p> + +<blockquote>"This learned I from the shadow of a tree<br /> +That to and fro did sway upon a wall,<br /> +Our shadow selves--our influence--may fall<br /> +Where we can never be."</blockquote> + + +<h1>Contents</h1> + +<ol style="list-style-type: upper-roman"> +<li><a href="#01">Lost--A Pocketbook</a></li> +<li><a href="#02">Nan's New Home</a></li> +<li><a href="#03">An Accident</a></li> +<li><a href="#04">Tode Meets the Bishop</a></li> +<li><a href="#05">In the Bishop's House</a></li> +<li><a href="#06">Tode's New Start</a></li> +<li><a href="#07">After Tode's Departure</a></li> +<li><a href="#08">Theo's Shadow Work</a></li> +<li><a href="#09">Theo in Trouble</a></li> +<li><a href="#10">A Bitter Disappointment</a></li> +<li><a href="#11">Theo's New Business</a></li> +<li><a href="#12">Nan Finds Friends</a></li> +<li><a href="#13">Nan's Departure</a></li> +<li><a href="#14">Theodore Gives Carrots a Chance</a></li> +<li><a href="#15">A Strike</a></li> +<li><a href="#16">Called to Go Up Higher</a></li> +<li><a href="#17">Final Glimpses</a></li> +</ol> + + +<h1>List of Illustrations</h1> + +<ol style="list-style-type: upper-roman"> +<li><a href="images/1.png">Theodore Bryan, Sign-Polisher</a></li> +<li><a href="images/2.png">"He's Awakin' Up, I Guess"</a></li> +<li><a href="images/3.png">Adrift Again</a></li> +<li><a href="images/4.png">"Oh, How Pretty,--How Pretty It Is!"</a></li> +<li><a href="images/5.png">"Stop the Car!"</a></li> +<li><a href="images/6.png">Thanksgiving Reunion</a></li> +</ol> + + +<h1>The Bishop's Shadow</h1> + +<p align="center"><img src="images/1.png" alt="[Illustration: Theodore Bryan, Sign-Polisher]" /></p> + +<a name="01"></a> +<h1>I. Lost--A Pocketbook</h1> + +<p>It was about ten o'clock in the morning and a northeast storm was +raging in Boston.</p> + +<p>The narrow crooked business streets were slippery with mud and +thronged with drays and wagons of every description, which, with the +continual passing of the street cars, made it a difficult and often a +dangerous matter to attempt a crossing.</p> + +<p>The rain came in sudden driving sheets, blotting out all but the +nearest cars or vehicles, while the wind seemed to lie in wait at +every corner ready to spring forth and wrest umbrellas out of the +hands of pedestrians at the most critical points in the crossings.</p> + +<p>Two ladies coming along Causeway street by the Union Depot, waited +some minutes on the sidewalk watching for an opening in the endless +stream of passing teams.</p> + +<p>"There! We shan't have a better chance than this. Come on now," one of +them exclaimed, stepping quickly forward as there came a little break +in the moving line. She stepped in front of two cars that had stopped +on parallel tracks and her companion hastily followed her. Just then +there came a fierce gust that threatened to turn their umbrellas +inside out. The lady in front clutched hers nervously and hurried +forward. As she ran past the second car she found herself almost under +the feet of a pair of horses attached to a heavy wagon. The driver +yelled angrily at her as he hastily pulled up his team; a policeman +shouted warningly and sprang toward her, and her friend stopped short +with a low cry of terror. But though the pole of the wagon grazed her +cheek and the shock threw her almost to the ground, the lady recovered +herself and hurried across to the sidewalk.</p> + +<p>It was then that a little ragged fellow of perhaps thirteen, slipped +swiftly under the very feet of the horses, and, unheeding the savage +shouts of the driver, wormed his way rapidly through the crowd and +vanished. As he did so, the lady who had so narrowly escaped injury, +turned to her friend and cried,</p> + +<p>"Oh my pocketbook! I must have dropped it on the crossing."</p> + +<p>"On the crossing, did you say?" questioned the policeman, and as she +assented, he turned hastily back to the street, but the cars and teams +had passed on and others were surging forward and no trace of the +pocketbook was visible. The policeman came back and questioned the +lady about it, promising to do what he could to recover it.</p> + +<p>"But it's not probable you'll ever see a penny of the money again," he +said. "Some rascally thief most likely saw ye drop it an' snatched it +up."</p> + +<p>The policeman was not mistaken. If he had turned through Tremont and +Boylston streets he might have seen a ragged, barefooted boy +sauntering along with his hands in his pockets, stopping now and then +to look into a shop window, yet ever keeping a keenly watchful eye on +every policeman he met. The boy looked as if he had not a penny in +those ragged pockets of his, but one of his grimy hands clutched +tightly the lost pocketbook, which his sharp eyes had seen as it fell +beneath the feet of the horses, and which he had deftly appropriated +as he wriggled through the mud.</p> + +<p>Heedless of wind and rain the boy lounged along the street. It was not +often that he found himself in this section of the city, and it was +much less familiar to him than some other localities. He seemed to be +wandering aimlessly along, but his restless eyes were on the watch for +some retired spot where he might safely examine his prize and see how +much money he had secured. For a long time he saw no place that seemed +to him a safe one for his purpose, so he went on and on until suddenly +he realised that he was tired. He was passing a large brownstone +church at the moment, and he sat down on the steps to rest.</p> + +<p>"My! But this is a gay ol' church!" he thought, as he looked curiously +at the beautiful building. "Wonder where them steps go to."</p> + +<p>Springing up he ran across the pillared porch to the foot of the stone +stairs that led to the upper entrance to the chapel. Following a +sudden impulse he started hastily up these stairs, his bare feet +making no sound. At the top of the stairs he found himself shut in on +two sides by a high stone balustrade, the chapel door forming the +third side. This door was closed. He tried it softly and found it +locked. Then he dropped down in the darkest corner of the landing, +and, with eyes and ears still keenly alert, pulled from his pocket the +mud-stained purse and examined it carefully. He found in it thirty-six +dollars in bills and about a dollar more in silver.</p> + +<p>The boy gave a gleeful, silent laugh. "Struck it rich this time," he +said to himself.</p> + +<p>He hunted up a crooked pin from somewhere about his dilapidated +garments, and fastened the roll of bills as securely as he could +inside the lining of his jacket, keeping the silver in his pocket. +Then he again examined the book to be sure that he had overlooked +nothing. On the inside of the leather was the name,</p> + +<blockquote>"R. A. RUSSELL,"</blockquote> + +<p>and there was also a card bearing the same name and an address. The +card he tore into tiny bits and chewed into a pellet which he tossed +over the stone balustrade. Then, with the pocketbook in his hand, he +looked about him. There was a pastor's box fastened beside the +door. He crowded the telltale book through the opening in the top of +this box, and then with a satisfied air ran blithely down the stone +steps. But he stopped short as he came face to face with the sexton +who was just crossing the porch.</p> + +<p>"Here, you! Where've you been? What you been up to?" cried the man, +clutching at him angrily, but the boy was too quick.</p> + +<p>He ducked suddenly, slipped under the sexton's hands and darted across +the porch and down the steps. Then he stopped to call back,</p> + +<p>"Be'n makin' 'rangements ter preach fer ye here next Sunday--yah! +yah!" and with a mocking laugh he disappeared leaving the sexton +shaking his fist in impotent wrath.</p> + +<p>The boy ran swiftly on until he had gotten quite a distance from the +church; then he slackened his pace and began to plan what he should do +next. The sight of a confectioner's window reminded him that he was +hungry, and he went into the store and bought two tarts which he ate +as he walked on. After that he bought a quart of peanuts, two bananas +and a piece of mince-pie, and having disposed of all these he felt +hungry no longer.</p> + +<p>Having in his possession what seemed to him a small fortune, he saw no +necessity for working, so that night he did not go as usual to the +newspaper office for the evening papers, but spent his time loafing +around the busiest corners and watching all that went on about the +streets. This unusual conduct attracted the attention of his cronies, +and a number of newsboys gathered about him trying to find out the +reason of his strange idleness.</p> + +<p>"I say, Tode," called one, "why ain't ye gettin' yer papers?"</p> + +<p>"Aw, he's come into a fortune, he has," put in another. "His rich +uncle's come home an' 'dopted him."</p> + +<p>"Naw, he's married Vanderbilt's daughter," sneered a third.</p> + +<p>"Say, now, Tode, tell us w'at's up," whispered one, sidling up to +him. "Hev ye swiped somethin'?"</p> + +<p>Tode tried to put on an expression of injured innocence, but his face +flushed as he answered, shortly,</p> + +<p>"Come, hush yer noise, will ye! Can't a chap lay off fer one day +'thout all the town pitchin' inter him? I made a dollar extry this +mornin'--that's all the' is about it," and stuffing his hands into his +pockets he marched off to avoid further comment.</p> + +<p>For the next week Tode "lived high" as he expressed it. He had from +three to six meals a day and an unlimited amount of pie and peanuts +besides, but after all he was not particularly happy. Time hung heavy +on his hands sometimes--the more so as the boys, resenting his living +in luxurious idleness, held aloof, and would have nothing to do with +him. He had been quite a leader among them, and it galled him to be so +left out and ignored. He began to think that he should not be sorry +when his ill-gotten money was gone. He was thinking after this fashion +one day as he strolled aimlessly down a side street. It was a quiet + +street where at that hour there was little passing, and Tode lounged +along with his hands in his pockets until he came to a place where the +sidewalk was littered with building material and where a large house +was in course of construction. Perhaps the workmen were on a strike +that day. At any rate none of them were about, and the boy sprang up +onto a barrel that was standing near the curbstone, and sat there +drumming on the head with two pieces of lath and whistling a lively +air.</p> + +<p>After a little his whistle ceased and he looked up and down the street +with a yawn, saying to himself,</p> + +<p>"Gay ol' street, this is! Looks like everybody's dead or asleep."</p> + +<p>But even as he spoke a girl came hastily around the nearest corner and +hurried toward him. She looked about fourteen. Her clothes were worn +and shabby but they were clean, and in her arms she carried a baby +wrapped in a shawl. She stopped beside Tode and looked at him with +imploring eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh can't you help me to hide somewhere? Do! Do!" she cried, with a +world of entreaty in her voice.</p> + +<p>The boy glanced at her coolly.</p> + +<p>"What ye want ter hide for? Been swipin' somethin'?" he questioned, +carelessly.</p> + +<p>The girl flashed at him an indignant glance, then cast a quick, +frightened one behind her.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she exclaimed, earnestly. "I'm no thief. I'm running away +from old Mary Leary. She's most killed my little brother giving him +whiskey so's to make him look sick when she takes him out +begging. Look here!"</p> + +<p>She lifted the shawl that was wrapped about the child. Tode leaned +over and looked at the little face. It was a pitiful little face--so +white and thin, with sunken eyes and blue lips--so pitiful that it +touched even Tode's heart, that was not easily touched.</p> + +<p>"The ol' woman after ye?" he asked, springing down from the barrel.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! Oh, do help me," pleaded the girl, the tears running down +her cheeks as she gazed at the baby face. "I'm afraid he's going to +die."</p> + +<p>The boy cast a quick glance about him.</p> + +<p>"Here!" he exclaimed, "squat down an' I'll turn this over ye."</p> + +<p>He seized a big empty barrel that stood near. Without a word the girl +slipped to the ground and he turned the barrel over her, kicking under +the edge a bit of wood to give air. The next moment he stooped down to +the opening and whispered,</p> + +<p>"Hi! The ol' lady's a comin'. Don't ye peep. I'll fix her!"</p> + +<p>Then he reseated himself again on the barrelhead and began to drum and +whistle as before, apparently paying no heed to the woman who came +along scolding and swearing, with half a dozen street children +following at her heels. She came nearer and nearer but Tode drummed on +and whistled unconcernedly until she stopped before him and exclaimed +harshly,</p> + +<p>"You boy--have you seen a girl go by here, with a baby?"</p> + +<p>"Nope," replied Tode, briefly.</p> + +<p>"How long you be'n settin' here?"</p> + +<p>"'Bout two weeks," answered the boy, gravely.</p> + +<p>The woman stormed and blustered, but finding that this made no +impression she changed her tactics and began in a wheedling tone,</p> + +<p>"Now, dearie, you'll help an ol' woman find her baby, won't ye? It's +heartbroke I am for my pretty darlin' an' that girl has carried him +off. Tell me, dearie, did they go this way?"</p> + +<p>"I d' know nothin' 'bout yer gal," exclaimed Tode. "Why don't ye scoot +'round an' find her 'f she's cleared out?"</p> + +<p>"An' ain't I huntin' her this blessed minute?" shrieked the woman, +angrily. "I b'lieve ye <i>have</i> seen her. Like's not ye've hid her +away somewheres."</p> + +<p>Tode turned away from her and resumed his drumming while the woman +cast a suspicious glance at the unfinished building.</p> + +<p>"She may be there," she muttered and began searching through the piles +of building material on the ground floor.</p> + +<p>"Hope she'll break her ol' neck!" thought Tode, vengefully, as he +whistled with fresh vigor.</p> + +<p>The woman reappeared presently, and casting a threatening glance and a +torrent of bad language at the boy, went lumbering heavily down the +street with the crowd of noisy, curious children straggling along +behind her.</p> + +<p>When they had all disappeared around the corner of the street, Tode +sprang down and putting his mouth to the opening at the bottom of the +barrel whispered hastily,</p> + +<p>"Keep still 'til I see if she's gone sure," and he raced up to the +corner where he watched until the woman was out of sight. Then he ran +back and lifted the barrel off, saying,</p> + +<p>"It's all right--she's gone, sure 'nough."</p> + +<p>The girl cast an anxious glance up and down the street as she sprang +up.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" she exclaimed. "I don't know where to go!" and Tode saw +that her eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>He looked at her curiously.</p> + +<p>"Might go down t' the wharf. Ol' woman wouldn't be likely ter go +there, would she?" he suggested.</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. I've never been there," replied the girl. "Which +way is it?"</p> + +<p>"Come on--I'll show ye;" and Tode set off at a rapid pace.</p> + +<p>The girl followed as fast as she could, but the child was a limp +weight in her arms and she soon began to lag behind and breathe +heavily. "What's the matter? Why don't ye hurry up?" exclaimed the +boy with an impatient backward glance.</p> + +<p>"I--can't. He's so--heavy," panted the girl breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Tode did not offer to take the child. He only put his hands in his +pockets and waited for her, and then went on more slowly.</p> + +<p>When they reached the wharf, he led the way to a quiet corner where +the girl dropped down with a sigh of relief and weariness, while he +leaned against a post and looked down at her. Presently he remarked,</p> + +<p>"What's yer name?" + + +"Nan Hastings," replied the girl.</p> + +<p>"How'd she get hold o' ye?" pursued the boy, with a backward jerk of +his thumb that Nan rightly concluded was meant to indicate the Leary +woman.</p> + +<p>She answered slowly, "It was when mother died. We had a nice home. We +were not poor folks. My father was an engineer, and he was killed in +an accident before Little Brother was born, and that almost broke +mother's heart. After the baby came she was sick all the time and she +couldn't work much, and so we used up all the money we had, and mother +got sicker and at last she told me she was going to die." The girl's +voice trembled and she was silent for a moment; then she went on, "She +made me kneel down by the bed and promise her that I would always take +care of Little Brother and bring him up to be a <i>good</i> man as +father was. I promised, and I am going to do it."</p> + +<p>The girl spoke earnestly with the light of a solemn purpose in her +dark eyes.</p> + +<p>Tode began to be interested. "And she died?" he prompted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she died. She wrote to some of her relatives before she died +asking them to help Little Brother and me, but there was no answer to +the letter, and after she died all our furniture was sold to pay the +doctor and the funeral bills. The doctor wanted to send us to an +orphan asylum, but Mary Leary had worked for us, and she told me that +if we went to an asylum they would take Little Brother away from me +and I'd never see him any more, and she said if I'd go home with her +she'd find me a place to work and I could keep the baby. So I went +home with her. It was a horrid place"--Nan shuddered--"and I found out +pretty soon that she drank whiskey, but I hadn't any other place to +go, so I had to stay there, but lately she's been taking the baby out +every day and he's been growing so pale and sick-looking, and +yesterday I caught her giving him whiskey, and then I knew she did it +to make him look sick so that she would get more money when she went +out begging with him."</p> + +<p>"An' so you cut an' run?" put in Tode, as the girl paused.</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="images/2.png" alt="[Illustration: He's awakin' up, I guess.]" /></p> + +<p>"Yes--and I'll <i>never</i> go back to her, but--I don't know what I +<i>can</i> do. Do you know any place where I can stay and work for +Little Brother?"</p> + +<p>The dark eyes looked up into the boy's face with a wistful, pleading +glance, as the girl spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'd know no place," replied Tode, shrugging his shoulders +carelessly. He did not feel called upon to help this girl. Tode +considered girls entirely unnecessary evils.</p> + +<p>Nan looked disappointed, but she said no more.</p> + +<p>"He's wakin' up, I guess," remarked Tode, glancing at the baby.</p> + +<p>The little thing stirred uneasily, and then the heavy, blue-veined +lids were lifted slowly, and a pair of big innocent blue eyes looked +straight into Tode's. A long, steadfast, unchildlike look it was, a +look that somehow held the boy's eyes in spite of himself, and then a +faint, tremulous smile quivered over the pale lips, and the baby hands +were lifted to the boy.</p> + +<p>That look and smile had a strange, a wonderful effect on +Tode. Something seemed to spring into life in his heart in that +instant. Up to this hour he had never known what love was, for he had +never loved any human being, but as he gazed into the pure depths of +those blue eyes and saw the baby fingers flutter feebly toward him, +his heart went out in love to the child, and he held out his arms to +take him.</p> + +<p>Nan hesitated, with a quick glance at Tode's dirty hands and garments, +but he cried imperiously,</p> + +<p>"Give him here. He wants to come to me," and she allowed him to take +the child from her arms. As he felt himself lifted in that strong +grasp, Little Brother smiled again, and nestled with a long breath of +content against Tode's dirty jacket.</p> + +<p>"See--he likes me!" cried the boy, his face all aglow with the +strange, sweet delight that possessed him. He sat still holding the +child, afraid to move lest he disturb his charge, but in a few minutes +the baby began to fret.</p> + +<p>"What's he want?" questioned Tode, anxiously.</p> + +<p>Nan looked distressed. "I'm afraid he's hungry," she replied. "Oh +dear, what <i>shall</i> I do!"</p> + +<p>She seemed ready to cry herself, but Tode sprang up.</p> + +<p>"You come along," he exclaimed, briefly, and he started off with the +child still in his arms, and Nan followed wonderingly. She shrank back +as he pushed open the door of a restaurant, but Tode went in and after +a moment's hesitation, she followed.</p> + +<p>"What'll he take--some beef?" inquired the boy.</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" cried Nan, hastily, "some bread and milk will be best for +him."</p> + +<p>"All right. Here you--bring us a quart o' milk an' a loaf o' bread," +called Tode, sharply, to a waiter.</p> + +<p>When these were brought he added, "Now fetch on a steak an' a oyster +stew."</p> + +<p>Then he turned with a puzzled look to Nan. "How does he take it? D'ye +pour it down his throat?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" cried Nan, hastily, as he seized the bowl of milk. "You must +feed it to him with a spoon."</p> + +<p>"All right!" and utterly regardless of the grinning waiters Tode began +to feed the baby, depositing quite as much in his neck as in his +mouth, while Nan looked on, longing to take the matter into her own +hands, but afraid to interfere. Suddenly Tode glanced at her.</p> + +<p>"Why don't ye eat?" he said, with a gesture toward the food on the + +table. The girl coloured and drew back.</p> + +<p>"Oh I can't," she exclaimed, hastily, "I ain't--I don't want +anything."</p> + +<p>"Ain't ye hungry?" demanded Tode in a masterful tone.</p> + +<p>"N--not much," stammered Nan, but the boy saw a hungry gleam in her +eyes as she glanced at the food.</p> + +<p>"Y'are, too! Now you jest put that out o' sight in a hurry!"</p> + +<p>But Nan shook her head. "I'm no beggar," she said, proudly, "and some +time I'm going to pay you for that," and she pointed to the bowl of +bread and milk.</p> + +<p>"Shucks!" exclaimed the boy. "See here! I've ordered that stuff an' +I'll have it to pay for anyhow, so you might's well eat it. <i>I</i> +don't want it," and he devoted himself again to the child.</p> + +<p>Nan turned her head resolutely away, but she was so hungry and the +food did smell so good that she could not resist it. She tasted the +oysters and in three minutes the bowl was empty, and a good bit of the +steak had disappeared before she pushed aside her plate.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said, gratefully. "It did taste <i>so</i> good!"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" grunted Tode. This was the first time in his life that anybody +had said "thank you" to him.</p> + +<p>He handed the baby over to Nan and, though he had said he was not +hungry, finished the steak and a big piece of pie in addition and then +the three left the restaurant.</p> + + + +<a name="02"></a> +<h1>II. Nan's New Home</h1> + +<p>As they went out, Nan looked anxiously from side to side, fearing to +see or be seen by the Leary woman. Tode noticed her troubled look and +remarked,</p> + +<p>"Ye needn't ter fret. <i>I</i> wouldn't let her touch ye. We might's +well go back to the wharf," he added.</p> + +<p>So they returned to the corner they had left, and in a little while +the baby dropped into a refreshing sleep in his sister's lap, while +Tode sometimes roamed about the wharf, and sometimes lounged against a +post and talked with Nan.</p> + +<p>"What is <i>your</i> name?" she asked him, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Tode Bryan."</p> + +<p>"Tode? That's a queer name."</p> + +<p>"'Spect that ain't all of it. There's some more, but I've forgot what +'tis," the boy replied, carelessly.</p> + +<p>"And where's your home, Tode?"</p> + +<p>"Home? Ain't got none. Never had none--no folks neither."</p> + +<p>"But where do you live?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, anywheres. When I'm flush, I sleeps at the Newsboys' Home, an' +when I ain't, I takes the softest corner I can find in a alley or on a +doorstep," was the indifferent reply.</p> + +<p>Nan looked troubled.</p> + +<p>"But I can't do that," she said. "I can't sleep in the street with +Little Brother."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" questioned Tode, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh because--girls can't do like that."</p> + +<p>"Lots o' girls do."</p> + +<p>"But--not nice girls, Tode," said Nan, wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Well no, I don't 'spect they're nice girls. I don't know any girls 't +amount to much," replied Tode, disdainfully.</p> + +<p>Nan flushed at his tone, as she answered,</p> + +<p>"But what <i>can</i> I do? Where can I go? Seems as if there ought to +be some place where girls like me could stay."</p> + +<p>"That's so, for a fact," assented Tode, then he added, thoughtfully, +"The's one feller--mebbe you could stay where he lives. He's got a +mother, I know."</p> + +<p>"Oh if I only could, Tode! I'd work <i>ever</i> so hard," said Nan, +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"You stay here an' I'll see 'f I can find him," said the boy. Then he +turned back to add suspiciously, "Now don't ye clear out while I'm +gone."</p> + +<p>Nan looked at him wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Where would I go?" she questioned, and Tode answered with a laugh,</p> + +<p>"That a fact--ye ain't got no place to go, have ye?"</p> + +<p>Then he disappeared and Nan waited anxiously for his return. He came +back within an hour bringing with him a freckle-faced boy a year or so +older than himself.</p> + +<p>"This's the gal!" he remarked, briefly.</p> + +<p>The newcomer looked doubtfully at Nan.</p> + +<p>"See the little feller," cried Tode, eagerly. "Ain't he a daisy? See +him laugh," and he chucked the baby clumsily under the chin.</p> + +<p>The child's heavy eyes brightened and he smiled back into the +friendly, dirty face of the boy.</p> + +<p>The other boy looked at Tode wonderingly. "Didn't know 't you liked +<i>kids,</i>" he said, scornfully.</p> + +<p>"So I don't--but this one's diff'runt," replied Tode, promptly. "You +ain't no common kid, be ye, Little Brother?"</p> + +<p>"What's his name?" questioned the boy.</p> + +<p>"His name is David, but mother always called him Little Brother, and +so I do," answered the girl, in a low tone. "Have you a mother?" she +added, with an earnest look at the boy.</p> + +<p>"Got the best mother in this town," was the prompt reply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, won't you take me to her, then? Maybe she can tell me what to +do," Nan pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Well, come along, then," responded the boy, rather grudgingly.</p> + +<p>"You come too, Tode," said Nan. "'Cause you know we might meet Mary +Leary."</p> + +<p>"All right. I'll settle her. Don't you worry," and Tode, with a very +warlike air marched along at Nan's right hand.</p> + +<p>"What's your mother's name?" questioned Nan, shyly, of the newcomer as +the three walked on together.</p> + +<p>"Hunt. I'm Dick Hunt," was the brief reply. Then Dick turned away +from the girl and talked to Tode.</p> + +<p>It was not very far to Dick's home. It was in one of the better class +of tenement houses. The Hunts had three rooms and they were clean and +comfortably furnished. Tode looked around admiringly as Dick threw +open the door and led the way in. Tode had never been in rooms like +these before. Nan--after one quick glance about the place--looked +earnestly and longingly into Mrs. Hunt's kind motherly face. Dick +wasted no words.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said, "this girl wants to stay here."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt was making paper bags. Her busy fingers did not stop for a +moment, but she cast a quick, keen glance at Nan and Tode.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Dick?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Hunt, if you only would let us stay here till I can find a +place to work, I'd be so thankful. We'll have to stay in the street +tonight--Little Brother and I--if you don't," urged Nan, eagerly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt's kind heart was touched by the girl's pleading tone. She +had girls of her own and she thought, "What if my Nellie had to spend +the night in the street," but she said only:</p> + +<p>"Sit down, my dear, and tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>The kind tone and those two words "my dear," were almost too much for +poor anxious Nan. Her eyes filled with tears and her voice was not +quite steady as she told again her sorrowful little story, and when it +was ended the mother's eyes too were dim.</p> + +<p>"Give me that baby," she exclaimed, forgetting her work for the +moment, and she took the little fellow tenderly in her arms. "You poor +child," she added, to Nan, "of course you can stay here to-night. It's +a poor enough place an' we're as pinched as we can be, but we'll +manage somehow to squeeze out a bite and a corner for you for a day or +two anyway."</p> + +<p>Tode's face expressed his satisfaction as he turned to depart. Dick +too looked pleased.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell ye I'd got the best mother in this town?" he said, +proudly, as he followed Tode down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Yes you did, an' 'twarn't no lie neither," assented Tode, +emphatically; "but, see here, you can tell your mother that <i>I'm</i> +agoin' to pay for that little feller's bread an' milk."</p> + +<p>Dick looked at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"You goin' to work again?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"'Course I am."</p> + +<p>"Somebody's got your beat."</p> + +<p>"Who?" Tode stopped short in angry surprise as he asked the question.</p> + +<p>"That big red-headed feller that they call Carrots."</p> + +<p>"Well--Carrots'll find himself knocked out o' business," declared +Tode, fiercely.</p> + +<p>When the newsboys assembled at the newspaper office a little later, +Dick speedily reported Tode's remark, and soon all eyes were on the +alert to see what would happen. Tode was greeted rather coldly and +indifferently, but that did not trouble him. He bought his papers and +set off for his usual beat. Scenting a fight a good many of the boys +followed. As Dick had said, Tode found the big fellow on the ground, +lustily crying his papers. Tode marched straight up to him.</p> + +<p>"See here, Carrots, this's my beat. You clear out--d'ye hear?" he +shouted.</p> + +<p>The big fellow leered at him scornfully, and without a word in +response, went on calling his papers.</p> + +<p>Down on the ground went Tode's stock in trade, and he fell upon +Carrots like a small cyclone fighting with teeth, nails, fists and +heels, striking in recklessly with never a thought of fear.</p> + +<p>Forgetful of possible customers, the boys quickly formed a ring, and +yelled and hooted at the antagonists, cheering first one and then the +other. But the contest was an unequal one. The red-headed boy was the +bigger and stronger of the two and plucky as Tode was, he would have +been severely treated had not the affair been ended by the appearance +of a policeman who speedily separated the combatants.</p> + +<p>"What's all this row about?" he demanded, sharply, as he looked from +Tode's bleeding face to the big fellow's bruised eye.</p> + +<p>"He took my beat. I've sold papers here for three years," cried Tode, +angrily.</p> + +<p>"What <i>you</i> got to say?" The policeman turned to the other.</p> + +<p>"He give it up. He ain't sold a paper here for a week past," growled +Carrots.</p> + +<p>"Whose beat is it?" The man turned to the other boys as he asked the +question.</p> + +<p>"Reckon it's Tode's."</p> + +<p>"He's o'ny been layin' off fer a spell."</p> + +<p>"It's Tode's sure 'nough."</p> + +<p>So they answered, and the officer turned again to Carrots.</p> + +<p>"You're a bigger feller 'n he is. You let him alone an' go find a new +beat for yourself, an' see 't I don't catch either of ye fightin' in +the streets again, or I'll put ye where ye'll get another kind of a +beat if ye don't walk straight. Now scatter--all of ye!"</p> + +<p>The "fun" was over and the boys needed no second bidding. They +scattered in all directions and the next moment, Tode's shrill voice +rang out triumphantly, while his rival stalked gloomily off, +meditating dire vengeance in the near future.</p> + +<p>Meantime, after Tode and Dick had departed, Nan had spoken a few +grateful words to Mrs. Hunt, and then laying the baby on the lounge, +she said, earnestly,</p> + +<p>"Please show me just how you make those bags. I'm sure I can do it."</p> + +<p>It was simple work and it did not take her many minutes to master the +details. Her quick eyes and deft fingers soon enabled her to do the +work fully as well and as rapidly as Mrs. Hunt could do it.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never! You certainly are a quick one," exclaimed the good +woman as she gave up her seat to the girl. "Now if you can finish that +job for me, I can get a little sewing done before dark."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I can finish this easily," exclaimed Nan, delighted that +there was something that she could do in return for the kindness shown +her.</p> + +<p>By and by, Jimmy, Nellie, and the younger children came in from +school, staring in amazement at the two strangers who seemed so much +at home there. Nan made friends with them at once, but she dreaded the +arrival of the father.</p> + +<p>"What if he shouldn't want us to stay?" she thought, anxiously, as she +heard a heavy step on the stairs, and Nellie called out,</p> + +<p>"Here comes father!"</p> + +<p>There was a general rush of the children as he opened the door and he +came into the room with boys and girls swarming over him. Nan's fears +departed at the first sight of his honest, kindly face, and his cheery +greeting to her.</p> + +<p>"Wal' now, this is nice," he said, heartily, after hearing his wife's +brief explanation. "Never can have too many little gals 'round to +suit me, an' as fer this young man," he lifted Little Brother gently +as he spoke, "he fits into this fam'ly jest like a book. Ted here's +gettin' most too much of a man to be our baby any longer."</p> + +<p>Ted's round face had lengthened as his father took up the baby, but it +brightened at these words, and he straightened himself and slipped his +hands into the pockets of the very short trousers he was wearing.</p> + +<p>"I'll be a big man pretty soon," he remarked, and his father patted +his head tenderly as he answered,</p> + +<p>"So you will, sonny, so you will, an' the more you help other folks +the faster you'll grow."</p> + +<p>That was a happy evening for Nan. As she sat at the supper-table at +"father's" right hand the only shadow on her satisfaction was the fear +that she might not be allowed to remain in this friendly +household. But somehow, even that thought could not cast a very dark +shadow on her heart when she looked up into the sunshine of Father +Hunt's plain face, or met the motherly smile of his good wife. She +lent a helping hand whenever she saw an opportunity to do so, and the +table was cleared, and the dishes washed so quickly that Mr. Hunt +remarked to his wife,</p> + +<p>"Look here, now, mother, why can't you an' me go somewheres this +evening? You ain't been out with me for more'n a year, an' I feel's if +I'd like a bit of an outin' to-night."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt looked up doubtfully, but Nan spoke up quickly,</p> + +<p>"Do go, Mrs. Hunt. I'll take care of the children and be glad to."</p> + +<p>"That's right! That's right!" exclaimed Mr. Hunt. "'Course ye will, +an' I 'spect you'll make 'em have such a fine time that they'll be +sorry when we get back."</p> + +<p>Ted put his finger in his mouth and gloom gathered on his round face +at this suggestion, but it vanished as Nan said,</p> + +<p>"Teddy, I can cut fine soldiers out of paper, and animals too. After +your father and mother go I'll cut some for you."</p> + +<p>Teddy's face brightened at this promise, and he saw the door close +behind his mother without shedding a single tear.</p> + +<p>Nan put Little Brother to bed and then all the children gathered about +the table and Nan drew men and animals on brown paper and cut them +out, to the great delight of the children. Teddy especially was so +interested that once Nellie remarked, "You needn't get quite into +Nan's mouth, Ted."</p> + +<p>Nan laughed. "If he only won't get his fingers cut instead of the +paper," she said.</p> + +<p>"There! I've got a whole fun'ral of horses," remarked Ted, in a tone +of great satisfaction, as he ranged a long string of the figures two +and two on the table.</p> + +<p>"Look out, Ted, you'll knock over the lamp!" cried Jimmy, hastily.</p> + +<p>The warning came too late. Even as the words were uttered, the chair +on which Ted was standing slipped from under him, and as he struck out +wildly to save himself from falling he hit the lamp and knocked it +over on the table. The chimney rolled to the floor with a crash, and +the burning oil spread over the table licking up Ted's horses and the +scattered bits of paper as it went. Then a piece of the burning paper +blew against Nellie's apron and the next instant that was blazing, and + +Nellie screaming with fright, while the other children ran crying into +the inner room--all but Ted. He--petrified with terror--stood still +with mouth and eyes wide open, gazing at the fiery stream rolling over +the table.</p> + +<p>It all happened in two or three seconds, but Nan did not lose her +head. She jerked off Nellie's apron without regard to fastenings, and +crammed it into the coalhod, then snatching up her old shawl which was +lying on the lounge, she threw it over the burning lamp and gathered +it closely over lamp, paper and all, so smothering the flames. In two +minutes the danger was over, Nan had lighted another lamp that Nellie +brought her, and the frightened children came creeping slowly back to +the table.</p> + +<p>Teddy did not care for paper men or animals any more that night. He +was ready to go to bed, and Nellie undressed him and put him there, +but the others sat up until the father and mother came home, all eager +to tell the story of their danger and of Nan's bravery. The mother's +eyes filled with tears as she put her arms about as many of the +children as she could gather into them and looked at Nan in silent +gratitude, while the father laid his hand kindly on the girl's brown +hair as he said, gravely,</p> + +<p>"Child, you've earned your place in this home. As long as I'm able to +work you're just as welcome here as the rest--you and the baby too."</p> + +<p>Nan's eyes were shining happily.</p> + +<p>"'Twas nothing much to do," she answered, "and I'll find some way to +pay for Little Brother and me if only we can stay here."</p> + +<p>Dick had come in soon after his parents, and had listened in gloomy +silence to the story of the children.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" he said to himself. "Twasn't so awful much to put out that +fire. I'd a done it in no time if I'd a been here."</p> + +<p>It seemed to Dick that his father and mother were making altogether +too much of this strange girl, and the evil spirit of jealousy reared +its ugly head in his heart. He wished he had not brought those two +home with him, anyhow.</p> + +<p>When, the next day, Tode met him on the street and inquired about Nan +and Little Brother, Dick replied, gruffly,</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're all right 'nough."</p> + +<p>"But are they goin' ter stay't your place?" questioned Tode.</p> + +<p>"'Spect so." Dick's voice was gruffer than before.</p> + +<p>"I'm agoin' 'round there to see 'em to-day," remarked Tode.</p> + +<p>Dick made no reply.</p> + +<p>Tode repeated, "Don't ye hear? I say I'm agoin' ter see 'em to-day."</p> + +<p>"I heard what ye said. S'pose I'm deaf?" and Dick turned his back and +marched off.</p> + +<p>Tode looked after him angrily. "Like ter punch his head fer him," he +said, under his breath. "Would, too, if his folks hadn't let Little +Brother stay on there."</p> + +<p>Nothing daunted by Dick's unfriendly manner, Tode presented himself +that afternoon at Mrs. Hunt's door. He found that good woman and Nan +both busy over the paper bags. All the children except Dick were at +school, and Little Brother was lying on the old shawl at his sister's +feet. Tode gave an awkward nod by way of greeting and dropped down on +the floor beside the child.</p> + +<p>"Hello, little chap!" he said.</p> + +<p>There certainly was a mutual attraction between the two, for the baby +again responded to his greeting with a smile, and held out his scrawny +little hands.</p> + +<p>Tode was delighted. He lifted the child in his arms and sat down with +him in an old rocking-chair.</p> + +<p>Nan cast a quick, disturbed glance at the two. She had dressed the +baby in some clothes that Mrs. Hunt had found for her--a few that had +survived Ted's rough usage. They were old but clean, and it was trying +to Nan to see Little Brother's pure, sweet face and fresh garments +held by Tode's dirty hands against his dirtier jacket. But the baby +did not mind. He looked as contented as Tode did, and when the boy's +grimy fingers touched his thin cheek, Little Brother laughed a soft, +happy, gurgling laugh that was music in Tode's ears. But suddenly the +boy's glance took in the contrast between his soiled hand and the +little face against which it rested. For a moment he hesitated, then +he arose hastily, placed the child gently on the old shawl again and +said to Mrs. Hunt,</p> + +<p>"Ye ain't got a bit o' soap you could lend me, have ye?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt looked at him inquiringly, then she answered a little +unwillingly, for even soap costs money, "You can take that bit on the +shelf there."</p> + +<p>Tode seized it and vanished. Few things escaped his quick eyes, and he +had noticed a sink and a faucet in the hall outside the door. There he +rubbed and scrubbed his hands for full five minutes vastly to their +improvement, though even then he looked at them doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Can't do no better," he muttered, as he wiped them--well, he had only +one place to wipe them, and he did the best he could. When he went +back he glanced somewhat sheepishly at Mrs. Hunt as he put the +remains of the soap back on the shelf, and again took up the baby. Nan +smiled at him but she made no remark, and tried not to look at his +jacket.</p> + +<p>After he had gone Mrs. Hunt asked, thoughtfully, "How long have you +known that boy, Nan?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw him until yesterday," answered the girl. "He was good to +me then."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, an' of course you don't want to forget that, but, Nan, +I'm afraid he's a bad boy. Dick says he is. He says he lies and +steals and swears. I guess you don't want to have much to do with +him."</p> + +<p>Nan looked troubled. She answered, slowly,</p> + +<p>"I guess he hasn't had much of a chance, Mrs. Hunt. He can't remember +anything about his father and mother, and he says he's never had any +home except the street. Do you s'pose 'twill hurt for him to come here +sometimes to see Little Brother? 'Seems as if it might help him to be +a better boy. He likes Little Brother."</p> + +<p>For a moment Mrs. Hunt was silent. She was thinking how hard she tried +to bring up her children to be good boys and girls, and yet they were +not always good. She wondered what kind of a boy her Dick would have +been if he, like Tode, had had no home and no one to keep him from +evil ways.</p> + +<p>"If that's so, there's some excuse for him," she said, in response to +Nan's plea for Tode.</p> + +<p>"P'raps 'twill help him somehow if he gets to carin' for that innocent +baby, an' I don't mind his comin' here sometimes, only be careful that +you don't learn any evil from him, my dear," and she leaned over and +kissed the girl's cheek.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Hunt, I <i>must</i> be good always, you know, for Little +Brother's sake. I can't ever forget or break my promise to mother," +Nan answered, earnestly. And Mrs. Hunt, as she saw the solemn look in +the dark eyes uplifted to her own, felt that she need not worry about +Nan and Tode.</p> + + + +<a name="03"></a> +<h1>III. An Accident</h1> + +<p>Tode Bryan was sauntering down the street, his hands in his pockets, +as usual, when he was not selling papers. He was whistling a lively +tune, but he was on the lookout for anything interesting that might +happen. As he passed a fruit stand kept by an old woman, he slyly +snatched a handful of peanuts which he ate as he went on. He had sold +out his papers more quickly than usual, for it was still early in the +evening, and the streets were full of business-men on their way to +their homes.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the boy stopped short and listened, and the next moment there +was a general rush into doorways and side streets as a fire-engine +came dashing around the corner, while the police rushed from side to +side clearing the way through the narrow street.</p> + +<p>As the engine passed, Tode, like every other boy within sight or +hearing, raced madly after it, shouting and yelling "fire" with all +the power of his healthy lungs. Hearing somebody say where the fire +was, he slipped through a narrow cross street and an alley, so coming +out ahead of the engine which the next moment swung around the nearest +corner.</p> + +<p>An old man was just crossing the street, and as he heard the clang of +the gong and the clatter of the engine, he looked about in a dazed, +frightened way, and, instead of hurrying across, hesitated a moment +and then turned uncertainly back. The driver did his best to avoid +him but when the engine had passed the old man lay motionless upon the +ground.</p> + +<p>Instantly a crowd gathered about him and Tode pressed forward to the +front rank. One policeman was raising the old man's head and another +was asking if anybody knew who the injured man was.</p> + +<p>It was Tode, who, peering curiously at the pale face, remarked,</p> + +<p>"I know him. He buys papers o' me."</p> + +<p>"What's his name? Where does he live?" questioned the officer.</p> + +<p>"Do' know. He keeps a bookstand down on School street."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll have to send him to the hospital. Ring up the ambulance, +Dick," said the officer to his companion.</p> + +<p>Tode was just dashing off after the engine when one of the policemen +collared him.</p> + +<p>"Here you!" he exclaimed. "None o' your cuttin' off! If you know this +man you've got to go to the hospital an' 'dentify him."</p> + +<p>Tode looked uncomfortable and tried to squirm out of the man's +grasp--a fruitless effort, for his strength availed nothing against +that iron grip. The boy had no idea what "'dentify" might mean but he +had his reasons for preferring to keep at a distance from the +guardians of the law. There was no help for it, however, so with many +inward misgivings, he submitted and waited for the ambulance. When it +appeared the still insensible old man was lifted in and Tode was +ordered to the front seat where he rode securely between the driver +and the policeman. The boy had never before been in a hospital and he +felt very ill at ease when he found himself inside the building with +its big rooms and long bare halls. He was left alone with the +policeman for a while, and then both of them were called into another +room and questioned in regard to the accident. Finally Tode was +dismissed with strict orders to return the next day.</p> + +<p>"He'll be here. I know him, an' if he don't show up, you jest send me +word an' I'll find him for ye," the officer said to the doctor, with a +threatening glance at the boy.</p> + +<p>Tode said nothing, but in his heart he was determined not to return +the next day. The officer, however, kept his eye on him, and the next +afternoon pounced upon him and put him on a street car with strict +orders to the conductor not to let him off until he reached the +hospital. So finding himself thus under watch and ward, Tode concluded +that he might as well obey orders, and he rang the bell at the +hospital door. He was met by the doctor whom he had seen the night +before, and taken at once to the ward where the injured man was lying.</p> + +<p>As Tode gazed around the long room with its rows of white beds, a +feeling of awe stole over him. He wanted to get away, for he did not +know what to do or say.</p> + +<p>The old man was lying as if asleep, but when the doctor spoke to him +he looked up and his dim eyes brightened at sight of the familiar face +of the boy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, bishop, it's you is it? Got a paper for me?" he said with a +feeble smile.</p> + +<p>Tode wriggled uneasily as he answered gruffly, "Guess ye don't want +none to-day, do ye?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't believe I do. You can bring me one to-morrow, bishop," +and as he spoke the old man closed his eyes again, and turned his face +away with a weary sigh.</p> + +<p>"Come away now," said the doctor, and once outside the door he added, +"He hasn't said as much as that before. Seeing some one he knew +aroused him as I hoped it would. Why does he call you bishop?"</p> + +<p>"I do' know," replied Tode, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Well, you must come again to-morrow. Here's a car ticket and a +quarter. I'll give you the same when you come to-morrow. Be here about +this time, will you?"</p> + +<p>"All right--I'll come," answered the boy to whom the quarter was an +inducement.</p> + +<p>The old man remained at the hospital for several weeks and Tode +continued to visit him there at first for the sake of the money and +because he dared not disobey the doctor's orders, but after a while he +became rather proud of the old man's evident liking for him, and he +would often sit and talk with him for half an hour at a time.</p> + +<p>One day Tode inquired curiously, "What d' ye call me bishop for? +'Tain't my name."</p> + +<p>And the old man answered dreamily, "You remind me of a boy I knew when +I was about your age. He used to say that he was going to be a bishop +when he grew up and so we boys always called him 'bishop.'"</p> + +<p>"An' did he?" questioned Tode.</p> + +<p>"Become a bishop? No, he entered the army and died in his first + +battle."</p> + +<p>"W'at's a bishop, anyhow?" asked Tode, after a moment's silence.</p> + +<p>"You know what a minister is, Tode?"</p> + +<p>"A preacher, ye mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a minister is a preacher. A bishop is a sort of head +preacher--ranking higher, you know."</p> + +<p>Tode nodded. "I'd rather be a soldier like that feller you knew," he +remarked.</p> + +<p>A day came when the old man was pronounced well enough to leave the +hospital and the doctor ordered Tode to be on hand to take him home. +The boy did not object. He was rather curious to see the little place +in the rear of the bookstand where the old man lived alone. Since the +accident the stand had been closed and Tode helped to open and air the +room and then made a fire in the stove. When this was done the old man +gave him money to buy materials for supper which of course the boy +shared.</p> + +<p>After this he came daily to the place to run errands or do anything +that was wanted, and by degrees the old man came to depend more and +more upon him until the business of the little stand fell almost +wholly into the boy's hands, for the owner's head still troubled him +and he could not think clearly. It was a great relief to him to have +some one to look after everything for him. Tode liked it and the +business prospered in his hands. If he lacked experience, he was +quicker and sharper than the old man. The two took their meals +together, and at night Tode slept on a blanket on the floor, and was +more comfortable and prosperous than he had ever been in his life +before. He had money to spend too, for old Mr. Carey never asked for +any account of the sums that passed through the boy's hands. So he +himself was undisturbed by troublesome questions and figures, the old +man was content now, and each day found him a little weaker and +feebler. Tode noticed this but he gave no thought to the matter. Why +borrow trouble when things were so much to his mind? Tode lived in the +present.</p> + +<p>He still sold the evening papers, considering it wise to keep +possession of his route against future need, and never a week passed +that he did not see Little Brother at least twice. He would have liked +to see the child every day, but he knew instinctively that he was not +a favorite with the Hunts, and that knowledge made him ill at ease +with them. But it could not keep him away altogether. He found too +much satisfaction in Little Brother's love for him.</p> + +<p>More than once Mrs. Hunt had remarked to Nan that she didn't "see what +in the world made the baby so fond of that rough, dirty boy." Nan +herself wondered at it though she kept always a grateful remembrance +of Tode's kindness when she first met him.</p> + +<p>Tode often brought little gifts to the child, and would have given him +much more, but Nan would not allow it. The two had a long argument +over the matter one day. It was a bright, sunny morning and Mrs. Hunt +had said that the baby ought to be out in the fresh air, so Nan had +taken him to the Common, and sat there keeping ever a watchful eye for +their enemy, Mary Leary. Tode going down Beacon street espied the two +and forgetting all about the errand on which he was bound, promptly +joined them.</p> + +<p>"He's gettin' fat--he is," the boy remarked, poking his finger at the +dimple in the baby's cheek, then drawing it quickly away again with an +uncomfortable expression. Tode never cared how dirty his hands were +except when he saw them in contrast with Little Brother's pure face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's getting well and strong," assented Nan, with a happy smile.</p> + +<p>"I say, Nan, w'at's the reason you won't let me pay for his milk?" +asked Tode, after a little.</p> + +<p>Then it was Nan's turn to look uncomfortable, and the color rose in +her cheeks as she answered, "I can pay now for all he needs. You know +Mrs. Hunt gets a double quantity of bags and I work on them every +day."</p> + +<p>But this answer did not satisfy Tode. "That don't make no diff'runce," +he growled. "Don't see why you won't let me do nothin' for him," and +he cast a gloomy glance at the baby, but Little Brother laughed up at +him and the gloom speedily melted away. After a moment's silence he +added, slowly, "It's comin' cold weather. He'll want a jacket or +somethin', won't he?"</p> + +<p>"He'll have to have some warm clothes," replied Nan, thoughtfully, +"but I can get them--I guess."</p> + +<p>Tode turned upon her fiercely. "I s'pose you'd let him freeze to death +'fore you'd let me buy him any clothes," he burst out, angrily. "I +sh'd like ter know w'at's the matter with ye, anyhow. Has that measly +Dick Hunt ben stuffin' ye 'bout me?"</p> + +<p>Nan coloured again and dropped her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Say--has he? I'll give it ter him next time I catch him out!" and +Tode ground his heel suggestively into the gravel walk.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tode, don't! Please don't fight Dick," pleaded Nan. "How can you +when his mother's so good to Little Brother?"</p> + +<p>"Don't care 'f she is. <i>He</i> ain't," was Tode's surly reply. "He +don't want you'n him to stay there."</p> + +<p>Nan's eyes were full of uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"Did he say so?" she questioned, for she had noticed Dick's coldness +and been vaguely disturbed by it.</p> + +<p>The boy nodded. "Yes," he said, "he tol' me so. Said there's 'nough +fer his father ter feed 'thout you'n him," and he pointed to the baby.</p> + +<p>"But I work," pleaded Nan. "I pay for all we eat."</p> + +<p>"But ye don't pay fer the rent an' the fire, an'--an' everything," +Tode replied, with a note of triumph in his voice, "so now, ye better +let me pay fer Little Brother an' then you c'n pay the rest."</p> + +<p>Nan hesitated and her face was troubled. Finally she lifted her dark +eyes to his and said bravely, "Tode, I guess I ought to tell you just +why I couldn't anyway let you do for Little Brother as you want +to. It's because--because you don't get your money the right way."</p> + +<p>"Who says I don't? Did that Dick Hunt say so? I'll"--began Tode, +fiercely, but Nan laid her hand on his arm and looked steadily into +his face.</p> + +<p>"Tode," she said, earnestly, "if you will look straight into Little +Brother's eyes and tell me that you never steal--I'll believe you."</p> + +<p>"I never"--began the boy, boldly; then he met a grave, sweet glance +from the baby's big blue eyes, and he hesitated. The lying words died +on his tongue, and turning his eyes away from the little face that he +loved, he said gloomily, "What's that got to do with it anyhow? +S'posin' I do hook a han'ful of peanuts sometimes. That ain't +nothin'."</p> + +<p>"Tode, do you want Little Brother to hook a handful of peanuts +sometimes when he gets big?" asked Nan, quietly.</p> + +<p>The boy turned his eyes again to the baby face and the hot blood +burned in his own as he answered, quickly, "'Course I don't. He won't +be that sort."</p> + +<p>"No, he won't, if I can help it," replied Nan, gravely.</p> + +<p>Tode dug his toe into the dirt in silence. Nan added, "Tode, by and +by, when he gets bigger, would you want him to know that you were a +thief?"</p> + +<p>When Tode looked up there was a strange gravity in his eyes, and his +lips were set in an expression of stern resolve.</p> + +<p>"I've got ter quit it," he said, solemnly, "an' I will. Say, Nan," he +added, wistfully, "if I quit now, ye wont ever let him know I used ter +be--what you said, will ye?"</p> + +<p>"No, Tode, never," answered Nan, quickly and earnestly. "And Tode, if +you'll stick to it, and not steal or lie or swear, I shan't mind your +helping me get things for Little Brother."</p> + +<p>The boy's face brightened, and he drew himself up proudly. "It's a +bargain, then," he said.</p> + +<p>Nan looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't believe you know how hard it +will be, Tode. I find it's awful hard to break myself of bad habits, +and I don't s'pose you've ever tried to before, have you?"</p> + +<p>Tode considered the question. "Guess not," he said, slowly, after a +pause.</p> + +<p>"Then I'm afraid you'll find you can't stop doing those bad things all +at once. But you'll keep on trying, Tode. You won't give up 'cause +it's hard work," Nan pleaded, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Nope," answered the boy, briefly, with a glance at the soft little +fingers that were clasped about one of his.</p> + +<p>When Nan went home he went with her to the door, loth to lose sight of +the only creature in the world for whom he cared. As the door closed +behind the two, he walked on thinking over what Nan had said. Much of +it seemed to him "girls' stuff an' nonsense." "As if a fella couldn't +stop swipin' things if he wanted to!" he said to himself.</p> + +<p>As he went on he passed a fruit stand where a man was buying some +bananas. In putting his change into his pocket he dropped a nickel, +which rolled toward Tode who promptly set his foot on it, and then +pretending to pull a rag off his torn trousers, he picked up the coin +and went on chuckling over his "luck." But suddenly he stopped short +and the hot color rose in his cheeks as he exclaimed with an oath,</p> + +<p>"Done it again!"</p> + +<p>He looked around for the man, but he had disappeared, and with an +angry grunt Tode flung the nickel into the gutter and went on, +beginning so soon to realise that evil habits are not overcome by +simply resolving to conquer them. Tode never had made any such +attempt before, and the discovery had rather a depressing effect on +him. It made him cross, too, but to his credit be it said, the thought +of giving up the struggle never once occurred to him.</p> + +<p>He found old Mr. Carey asleep in his chair, and he awoke him roughly.</p> + +<p>"See here!" he exclaimed, sharply. "Is this the way you 'tend to +business when I'm gone? Some cove might a stole every book an' paper +on the stand, and cleaned out the cash, too." He pulled open the +drawer as he spoke. "No thanks to you that 'tain't empty," he +grumbled. He had never spoken so sharply before, and the old man was +vaguely disturbed by it. He got up and walked feebly across the room, +rubbing his trembling fingers through his grey hair in a troubled +fashion, as he answered slowly,</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, bishop--you're right. It was very careless of me to go to +sleep so. I don't see how I came to do it. I'm afraid I'm breaking +down, my boy--breaking down," he added, sadly.</p> + +<p>As Tode looked at the old man's dim eyes and shaking hands a feeling +of sympathy and compassion stole into his heart, and his voice +softened as he said, "Oh, well, it's all right this time. Reckon I'll +have to run the business altogether till you get better."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you will, bishop. I'm not much good anyhow, nowadays," and +the old man dropped again into his chair with a heavy sigh.</p> + +<p>The weeks that followed were the most miserable weeks of Tode Byran's +short life. He found out some things about himself that he had never +before suspected. It was wholesome knowledge, but it was not pleasant +to find that in spite of his strongest resolutions, those nimble +fingers of his <i>would</i> pick up nuts and apples from street stands +and his quick tongue would rattle off lies and evil words before he +could remember to stop it. The other boys found him a most unpleasant +companion in these days, for his continual failures made him cross and +moody. He would speedily have given up the struggle but for Little +Brother. Several times he did give it up for a week or two, but then +he staid away from the Hunts' rooms until he grew so hungry for a +sight of the baby face that he could stay away no longer. Nan came to +understand what these absences meant, and always when he reappeared +she would speak a word of encouragement and faith in his final +victory. Tode had not cared at all for Nan at first, but in these days +of struggle and failure he began to value her steadfast faith in him, +and again and again he renewed his vow to make himself "fit to help +bring up Little Brother," as he expressed it.</p> + +<p>It was one day toward the close of winter that Tode noticed that +Mr. Carey seemed more than usually dull and listless, dropping into a +doze even while the boy was speaking to him, and he went to bed +directly after supper. When the boy awoke the next morning the old man +lay just as he had fallen asleep. He did not answer when Tode spoke to +him, and his hands were cold as ice to the boy's touch.</p> + +<p>Tode did not know what to do, but he finally hunted up the policeman, +who knew him, and the two went back together and found the old man +dead. As no relatives appeared, the city authorities took charge of +the funeral, the books and the few pieces of furniture were sold to +pay the expenses, and Tode found himself once more a homeless waif. He +had not minded it before, but his brief experience of even this poor +home had unfitted him for living and sleeping in the streets. He found +it unpleasant too, to have no money except the little he could earn +selling papers. He set himself to face his future in earnest, and came +to the conclusion that it was time for him to get into some better +paying business. After thinking over the matter for several days he +went to Nan.</p> + +<p>"You know them doughnuts you made th' other day?" he began.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Nan, wonderingly. Mrs. Hunt had taught her to make +various simple dishes, and as Tode had happened in the day she made +her first doughnuts, she had given him a couple, which he had +pronounced "prime!"</p> + +<p>Now he went on, "I don't want to sleep 'round the streets any +more. I'm sick of it, but I can't make money 'nough off papers to do +anything else. I'm thinkin' of settin' up a stand."</p> + +<p>"A bookstand, Tode?" questioned Nan, interestedly.</p> + +<p>"No--a eatin' stand--fer the fellers ye know--newsboys an' such. 'F +you'll make doughnuts an' gingerbread an' san'wiches fer me, I bet all +the fellers'll come fer 'em."</p> + +<p>"Now that ain't a bad idea, Tode," said Mrs. Hunt, looking up from +her work. "Of course the boys would buy good homemade food instead of +the trash they get from the cheap eatin' houses, an' Nan, I shouldn't +wonder if you could earn more that way than by workin' at these bags."</p> + +<p>Nan considered the matter thoughtfully, and finally agreed to give it +a trial, and Tode went off highly pleased.</p> + +<p>It took him two weeks to save enough to start his stand even in the +simplest fashion, but when he did open it, he at first did a +flourishing business. In the beginning the boys patronised him partly +from curiosity and partly from good fellowship, but Nan's cookery +found favour with them at once, and "Tode's Corner" soon became the +favorite lunch counter for the city newsboys, and Tode's pockets were +better filled than they had been since Mr. Carey's death.</p> + +<p>For several weeks all went well, and the boy began to consider himself +on the high road to fortune, but then came a setback.</p> + +<p>One day his stand was surrounded by a crowd of boys all clamoring to +be served at once, when the big fellow who had taken possession of +Tode's newspaper route, months before, came along. He had never +forgotten or forgiven the boy for getting the better of him on that +occasion, and now he thought he saw a chance for revenge.</p> + +<p>Creeping up behind the group of hungry boys, he suddenly hit one of +them a stinging blow on the face, and as this one turned and struck +back angrily at him, the big fellow flung him back with all his +strength against Tode's stand. The stand was an old one and +rickety--Tode had bought it secondhand--and it went down with a crash, +carrying cookies, doughnuts, gingerbread, coffee, sandwiches, cups, +plates and boys in one promiscuous mixture. Before the boys could +struggle to their feet, Carrots, with his hands full of gingerbread, +had disappeared around the nearest corner. There was a wild rush and +a scramble, and when two minutes later, Tode stood gazing mournfully +at the wreck, not an eatable bit remained. The boys had considered the +wreckage as their lawful spoils, and every one of them had snatched as +much as he could.</p> + +<p>Later, however, their sense of justice led some of them to express, +after their rough fashion, sympathy for Tode, and disapproval of his +enemy's revengeful act. Besides, a few of them had enough conscience +to acknowledge to themselves that they had not been entirely +blameless. The result was that half a dozen of them went to Tode the +next day and offered to "chip in" and set him up again.</p> + +<p>Tode appreciated the spirit that prompted the offer, but he was also +shrewd enough to foresee that should he accept it, these boys would +expect favours in the way of prices and quantities when they dealt +with him in the future, and so he declined.</p> + +<p>"Reckin I can stan' on my own feet, boys," he answered. "I've been +a-tinkerin' up the ol' stand, an' I'm a-goin' to start in again +to-morrow. You fellers come here an' get yer breakfast, an' that's +all the help I'll ask, 'cept that ev'ry last one o' ye'll give that +Carrots a kick fer me."</p> + +<p>"We will that!" shouted the boys. "We'll make him sorry fer himself!"</p> + +<p>And the next day their sympathy took the practical form that Tode had +suggested, for every one of them that had any money to spend, spent it +at "Tode's Corner," so that his stand was cleared again, but in a very +satisfactory fashion--a fashion that filled his pockets with dimes and +nickels.</p> + + + +<a name="04"></a> +<h1>IV. Tode Meets the Bishop</h1> + +<p>Sundays were Tode's dreariest days. He found that it did not pay to +keep his stand open later than ten o'clock, and then after he had +spent an hour with Little Brother and Nan, the time hung heavy on his +hands. Sometimes he pored over a newspaper for a while, sometimes over +something even more objectionable than the Sunday newspaper, and for +the rest, he loafed around street corners and wharves with other +homeless boys like himself.</p> + +<p>One Sunday morning he was listlessly reading over some play-bills +pasted on a fence, when the word "bishop" caught his eye, and he +spelled out the announcement that a well-known bishop was to speak in +St. Mark's Church, that afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Cracky! I'd like to see a live bishop. B'lieve I'll go," he said to +himself. Then looking down at his ragged trousers and dirty jacket, he +added with a grin, "'Spect some o' them nobs'll most have a fit to see +me there."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he determined to go. Old Mr. Carey had never called him +anything but "bishop," and now the boy had a queer feeling as he read +that word on the bill--a feeling that this bishop whom he had never +seen had yet in some way something to do with him--though in what way +he could not imagine.</p> + +<p>He thought over the matter through the hours that followed, sometimes +deciding that he would go, and again that he wouldn't, but he found +out where St. Mark's Church was, and at three o'clock he was there.</p> + +<p>He gave a little start and a shadow fell upon his face as he saw the +pillared porch and the stone stairway. He seemed to see himself +running up those stairs and stuffing that stolen pocketbook into the +pastor's box that he remembered so clearly. These thoughts were not +pleasant ones to him now, and Tode stopped hesitatingly, undecided +whether to go on or to go in. It was early yet and no one was entering +though the doors stood invitingly open.</p> + +<p>While he hesitated, the sexton came out to the steps. Tode remembered +him too, and looked at him with a grin that exasperated the man. "Get +out o' this!" he exclaimed, roughly. "We don't want any o' your sort +'round here."</p> + +<p>Of course that settled the matter for Tode. He was determined to go +in now anyhow, but he knew better than to attempt it just then.</p> + +<p>"Who wants to go int' yer ol' church," he muttered as he turned +away. The man growled a surly response but Tode did not look back.</p> + +<p>On the corner he stopped, wondering how he could best elude the +unfriendly sexton and slip into the building, without his +knowledge. He dropped down on the curbstone and sat there thinking for +some time. At last a voice above him said quietly,</p> + +<p>"Well, my boy, aren't you coming to church?"</p> + +<p>Tode looked up, up a long way it seemed to him, into such a face as he +had never before looked into. Instinctively he arose and stepped back +that he might see more plainly those clear blue eyes and that strong, +tender mouth. The boy gazed and gazed, forgetting utterly to answer.</p> + +<p>"You are coming into church with me, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>So the question was repeated, and Tode, still lookingly earnestly up +into the man's face, nodded silently.</p> + +<p>"That's right, my son--come," and a large, kindly hand was laid gently +upon the boy's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Without a word he walked on beside the stranger.</p> + +<p>The sexton was standing in the vestibule as the two approached. A look +of blank amazement swept across his face at sight of the boy in such +company. He said no word, however, only stepped aside with a bow, but +his eyes followed the two as they passed into the church together, and +he muttered a few angry words under his breath.</p> + +<p>As for Tode, some strange influence seemed to have taken possession of +him, for he forgot to exult over the surly sexton. He passed him +without a thought indeed, feeling nothing but a strange, happy wonder +at the companionship in which he found himself.</p> + +<p>The stranger led him up the aisle to one of the best pews, and +motioned him in. Silently the boy obeyed. Then the man looking down +with his rare, beautiful smile into the uplifted face, gently raised +Tode's ragged cap from his rough hair, and laid it on the cushioned +seat beside him. Then he went away, and Tode felt as if the sunlight +had been suddenly darkened. His eyes followed the tall, strong figure +longingly until it disappeared--then he looked about him, at the +beautiful interior of the church. The boy had never been in such a +place before, and he gazed wonderingly at the frescoes, the rich +colours in the windows, the dark carved woodwork and the wide chancel +and pulpit.</p> + +<p>"Wat's it all for, I wonder," he said, half aloud, and then started +and flushed as his own voice broke the beautiful, solemn silence.</p> + +<p>People were beginning to come in and filling the seats about him, and +many curious and astonished glances fell upon the boy, but he did not +notice them. Presently a soft, low strain of music stole out upon the +stillness. Surely a master hand touched the keys that day, for the +street boy sat like a statue listening eagerly to the sweet sounds, +and suddenly he found his cheeks wet. He dashed his hand impatiently +across them wondering what was the matter with him, for tears were +strangers to Tode's eyes, but in spite of himself they filled again, +till he almost wished the music would cease--almost but not quite, for +that strange happiness thrilled his heart as he listened.</p> + +<p>Then far-off voices began to sing, coming nerrer and nearer, until a +long line of white-robed men and boys appeared, singing as they +walked, and last of all came the kingly stranger who had brought Tode +into the church, and he went to the lectern and began to read.</p> + +<p>"The--bishop!" Tode breathed the words softly, in a mixture of wonder +and delight, as he suddenly realised who this man must be.</p> + +<p>He sat through the remainder of the service in a dreamy state of +strange enjoyment. He did not understand why the people around him +stood or knelt at intervals. He did not care. When the bishop prayed, +Tode looked around, wondering whom he was calling "Lord." He concluded +that it must be the one who made the music.</p> + +<p>He listened eagerly, breathlessly, to the sermon, understanding almost +nothing of what was said, but simply drinking in the words spoken by +that rich, sweet voice, that touched something within him, something +that only Little Brother had ever touched before. Yet this was +different from the feeling that the baby had awakened in the boy's +heart. He loved the baby dearly, but to this great, grand man, who +stood there above him wearing the strange dress that he had never +before seen a man wear--to him the boy's whole heart seemed to go out +in reverent admiration and desire. He knew that he would do anything +that this man might ask of him. He could refuse him nothing.</p> + +<p>"Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price."</p> + +<p>These words, repeated again and again, fixed themselves in Tode's +memory with no effort of his own. Buying and selling were matters +quite in his line now, but he did not understand this. He puzzled +over it awhile, then put it aside to be thought out at another time.</p> + +<p>When the service was over, Tode watched the long line of choir boys +pass slowly out, and his eyes followed the tall figure of the bishop +till it disappeared from his wistful gaze. Then he looked about upon +the kneeling congregation, wondering if the people were going to stay +there all day. The bishop was gone, the music had ceased, and Tode did +not want to stay any longer. He slipped silently out of the pew and +left the church.</p> + +<p>That evening he wandered off by himself, avoiding the Sunday +gathering-places of the boys, and thinking over the new experiences of +the afternoon. The words the bishop had repeated so often sung +themselves over and over in his ears.</p> + +<p>"Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price."</p> + +<p>"Don't mean me, anyhow," he thought, "'cause I b'long ter myself, sure +'nough. Nobody ever bought me 't ever I heard of. Wonder who that Jesus +is, he talked about so much. I wish--I wish he'd talk ter me--that +bishop."</p> + +<p>All the strange happiness that had filled his heart during the service +in the church, was gone now. He did not feel happy at all. On the +contrary, he felt wretched and utterly miserable. He had begun to have +a distinct pride and satisfaction in himself lately, since he had +stopped lying and stealing, and had set up in business for himself, +and especially since Mrs. Hunt had begun to look upon him with more +favour, as he knew she had--but somehow now all this seemed worthless. +Although he had not understood the bishop's sermon, it seemed to have +unsettled Tode's mind, and awakened a vague miserable dissatisfaction +with himself. He was not used to such feelings. He didn't like them, +and he grew cross and ugly when he found himself unable to shake them +off.</p> + +<p>He had wandered to the quiet corner of the wharf, where he and Nan and +Little Brother had spent the first hours of their acquaintance, and he +stood leaning against that same post, looking gloomily down into the +water, when a lean, rough dog crept slowly toward him, wagging his +stumpy tail and looking into the boy's face with eyes that pleaded for +a friendly word. Generally Tode would have responded to the mute +appeal, but now he felt so miserable himself, that he longed to make +somebody or something else miserable too, so instead of a pat, he gave +the dog a kick that sent it limping off with a yelp of pain and +remonstrance. He had made another creature as miserable as himself, +but somehow it didn't seem to lessen his own wretchedness. Indeed, he +couldn't help feeling that he had done a mean, cowardly thing, and +Tode never liked to feel himself a coward. He looked after the dog. +It had crawled into a corner and was licking the injured paw. Tode +walked toward the poor creature that looked at him suspiciously, yet +with a faint little wag of its tail, as showing its readiness to +forgive and forget, while at the same time ready to run if more abuse +threatened.</p> + +<p>Tode stooped and called, "Come here, sir!" and, after a moment's +hesitation, the dog crept slowly toward him with a low whine, still + +keeping his bright eyes fastened on the boy's.</p> + +<p>"Poor old fellow," Tode said, gently, patting the dog's rough +head. "Is it hurt? Let me see." He felt of the leg, the dog standing +quietly beside him.</p> + +<p>"'Tain't broken. It'll be all right pretty soon. What's your name?" +Tode said, and the dog rubbed his head against the boy's knee and +tried to say with his eloquent eyes what his dumb lips could not +utter.</p> + +<p>"Got none--ye mean? You're a street dog--like me," the boy +added. "Well, guess I'll go home an' get some supper," and he walked +slowly away and presently forgot all about the dog.</p> + +<p>He had lately hired a tiny garret room where he slept, and kept his +supplies when his stand was closed. He went there now and ate his +lonely supper. It had never before seemed lonely to him, but somehow +to-night it did. He hurried down the food and started to go out +again. As he opened his door, he heard a faint sound, and something +moved on the dark landing.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" he called, sharply.</p> + +<p>A low whine answered him, and from out the gloom two eyes gleamed and +glittered. Tode peered into the shadow, then he laughed.</p> + +<p>"So it's you, is it? You must have tagged me home. Come in here then +if you want to," and he flung his door wide open and stepped back into +the room.</p> + +<p>Then out of the shadows of the dark landing the dog came slowly and +warily, ready to turn and slink off if he met no welcome, but Tode was +in the mood when even a strange dog was better than his own +company. He fed the half-starved creature with some stale sandwiches, +and then talked to him and tried to teach him some tricks until to his +own surprise he heard the city clocks striking nine, and the long, +lonely evening he had dreaded was gone.</p> + +<p>"Well now, you're a heap o' company," he said to the dog. "I've a good +mind ter keep ye. Say, d'ye wan' ter stay, ol' feller?"</p> + +<p>The dog wagged his abbreviated tail, licked Tode's fingers, and rubbed +his head against the ragged trousers of his new friend.</p> + +<p>"Ye do, hey! Well, I'll keep ye ter-night, anyhow. Le' see, what'll I +call ye? You've got ter have a name. S'posin' I call ye Tag. That +do--hey, Tag?"</p> + +<p>The dog gave a quick, short bark and limped gaily about the boy's +feet.</p> + +<p>"All right--we'll call ye Tag then. Now then, there's yer bed," and he +threw into a corner an old piece of carpet that he had picked up on a +vacant lot. The dog understood and settled himself with a long, +contented sigh, as if he would have said:</p> + +<p>"At last I've found a master and a home."</p> + +<p>In a day or two Tag's lameness disappeared, and his devotion to his +new master was unbounded. Tode found him useful, too, for he kept +vigilant watch when the boy was busy at his stand, and suffered no +thievish fingers to snatch anything when Tode's eyes and fingers were +too busy for him to be on the lookout. The dog was such a loving, +intelligent little creature, that he quickly won his way into Nan's +heart, and he evidently considered himself the guardian of Little +Brother from the first day that he saw Tode and the child +together. Some dogs have a way of reading hearts, and Tag knew within +two minutes that Tode loved every lock on Little Brother's sunny head.</p> + +<p>A few days after that Sabbath that the boy was never to forget, he +went to see Nan and the baby, and in the course of his visit, +remarked,</p> + +<p>"Nan, I seen the bishop last Sunday."</p> + +<p>"What bishop?" inquired Nan.</p> + +<p>"The one that talked at the big, stone church--St. Mark's, they call +it."</p> + +<p>"I wonder 't they let you in, if you wore them ragged duds," remarked +Mrs. Hunt.</p> + +<p>"The bishop asked me to go in an' he took me in himself," retorted +Tode, defiantly.</p> + +<p>"For the land's sake," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt. "He must be a queer kind +of a bishop!"</p> + +<p>"A splendid kind of a bishop, I should think," put in Nan, and the boy +responded quickly,</p> + +<p>"He is so! I never see a man like him."</p> + +<p>"Never see a man like him? What d'ye mean, Tode?" questioned +Mrs. Hunt.</p> + +<p>Tode looked at her as he answered slowly, "He's a great big man--looks +like a king--an' his eyes look right through a feller, but they don't +hurt. They ain't sharp. They're soft, an'--an'--I guess they look like +a mother's eyes would. I d'know much 'bout mothers, 'cause I never had +one, but I should think they'd look like his do. I tell ye," Tode +faced Mrs. Hunt and spoke earnestly, "a feller'd do 'most anything that +that bishop asked him to--couldn't help it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt stared in amazement at the boy. His eyes were glowing and +in his voice there was a ring of deep feeling that she had never +before heard in it. It made her vaguely uncomfortable. Her Dick had +never spoken so about any bishop, nor indeed, about anybody else, and +here was this rough street boy whom she considered quite unfit to +associate with Dick--and the bishop himself had taken him into church.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt spoke somewhat sharply. "Well, I must say you were a +queer-lookin' one to set in a pew in a church like St. Mark's."</p> + +<p>Nan looked distressed, and Tode glanced uneasily at his garments. They +certainly were about as bad as they could be. Even pins and twine +could not hold them together much longer.</p> + +<p>"Tode," Mrs. Hunt went on, "I think it's high time you got yourself +some better clothes. Dear knows, you need 'em if ever a boy did, an' +certainly you must have money 'nough now."</p> + +<p>"'Spect I have. I never thought about it," replied Tode.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd better think about it, an' 'tend to it right away. 'F +you're goin' to church with bishops you'd ought to look respectable, +anyhow."</p> + +<p>Something in the tone and emphasis with which Mrs. Hunt spoke brought +the colour into Tode's brown cheeks, while Nan looked at the good +woman in surprise and dismay. She did not know how troubled was the +mother's heart over her own boy lately, as she saw him growing rough +and careless, and that it seemed to her hard that this waif of the +streets should be going up while her Dick went down.</p> + +<p>Tode thought over what had been said, and the result was that the next +time he appeared he was so changed that the good woman looked twice +before she recognised him. His clothes had been purchased at a +secondhand store, and they might have fitted better than they did, but +they were a vast improvement on what he had worn before. He had +scrubbed his face as well as his hands this time, and had combed his +rough hair as well as he could with the broken bit of comb which was +all he possessed in the way of toilet appliances. It is no easy matter +for a boy to keep himself well washed and brushed with no face cloth +or towel or brush, and no wash basin save the public sink. Tode had +done his best however, and Nan looked at him in pleased surprise.</p> + +<p>"You do look nice, Tode," she said, and the boy's face brightened with +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>All through that week Tode told himself that he would not go to the +church again, yet day by day the longing grew to see the bishop's face +once more and to hear his voice.</p> + +<p>"W'at's the use! O'ny makes a feller feel meaner 'n dirt," he said to +himself again and again, yet the next Sabbath afternoon found him +hanging about St. Mark's hoping that the bishop would ask him in +again. But the minutes passed and the bishop did not appear.</p> + +<p>"Maybe he's gone in aready," the boy thought, peering cautiously +through the pillars of the entrance. There was no one in sight, and +Tode crept quietly across the porch through the wide vestibule to the +church door. Only the sexton was there, and his back was toward the +boy as he stood looking out of the opposite door.</p> + +<p>"Now's my time," thought Tode, and he ran swiftly and silently up the +aisle to the pew where the bishop had placed him. There he hesitated. +He was not sure which of several pews was the one, but with a quick +glance at the sexton's back, he slipped into the nearest, and hearing +the man's footsteps approaching, dropped to the floor and crawled +under the seat.</p> + +<p>The sexton came slowly down the aisle, stopping here and there to +arrange books or brush off a dusty spot. He even entered the pew where +Tode was, and moved the books in the rack in front, but the boy lay +motionless in the shadow, and the man passed on without discovering +him.</p> + +<p>Then the people began to come in, and Tode was just about to get up +and sit on the seat, when a lady and a little girl entered the pew.</p> + +<p>The boy groaned inwardly. "They'll screech if I get up now," he +thought. "Nothin' for it but to lay here till it's over. Wal', I c'n +hear <i>him</i> anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Him," in Tode's thought was the bishop, and he waited patiently +through the early part of the service, longing to hear again that +rich, strong, thrilling voice. But alas for Tode! It was not the +bishop who preached that day. It was a stranger, whose low monotonous +voice reached the boy so indistinctly, that he soon gave up all +attempts to listen, and before the sermon was half over he was sound +asleep. Fortunately he was used to hard resting-places, and he slept +so quietly that the occupants of the pew did not discover his presence +at all.</p> + +<p>The music of the choir and of the organ mingled with the boy's dreams, + +but did not arouse him, and when the people departed and the sexton +closed the church and went home, Tode still slept on in darkness and +solitude.</p> + +<p>Usually there was an evening service, but on this occasion it was +omitted, the rector being ill, so when Tode at last opened his eyes, +it was to find all dark and silent about him. As he started up his +head struck the bottom of the seat with a force that made him cry out +and drop back again. Then as he lay there he put out his hands, and +feeling the cushioned seat over his head, he knew where he was and +guessed what had happened.</p> + +<p>"Wal! I was a chump to go to sleep here!" he muttered, slowly, rising +with hands outstretched. "'Spect I'll have ter get out of the +window."</p> + +<p>The street lights shining through the stained glass made a faint +twilight in the church, but there was something weird and strange +about being there alone at that hour that set the boy's heart to +beating faster than usual.</p> + +<p>He went to one of the windows and felt about for the fastenings, but +he could not reach them. They were too high. He tried them all, but +none were within his reach. Then he sat down in one of the pews and +wondered what he should do next. He was wide awake now. It seemed to +him that he could not close his eyes again that night, and indeed it +was long after midnight before he did. He felt strangely lonely as he +sat there through those endless hours, dimly hearing the voices and +footsteps in the street without grow fewer and fainter, till all was +silent save the clocks that rang out the creeping hours to his weary +ears. At last his tired eyes closed and he slipped down on the +cushioned seat and slept for a few hours, but he awoke again before +daylight.</p> + +<p>It was broad daylight outside before it was light enough in the church +for the boy to see clearly, and then he looked hopelessly at the high +window fastenings. He had tried every door but all were securely +locked.</p> + +<p>"Nothin' t' do but wait till that ol' cove comes back," he said to +himself.</p> + +<p>Then a thought flashed across his mind--a thought that made his heart +stand still with dread. "S'posin' he don't come till next Sunday?"</p> + +<p>Tode knew nothing about midweek or daily services. But he put this +terrible thought away from him.</p> + +<p>"I'll get out somehow if I have ter smash some o' them pictures," he +said aloud, as he looked up at the beautiful windows.</p> + +<p>The minutes seemed endless while the boy walked restlessly up and down +the aisles thinking of his stand, and of the customers who would seek +breakfast there in vain that morning. At last he heard approaching +footsteps, then a key rattled in the lock, and Tode instinctively +rolled under the nearest pew and lay still, listening to the heavy +footsteps of the sexton as he passed slowly about opening doors and +windows. The boy waited with what patience he could until the man +passed on to the further side of the church, then he slid and crawled +along the carpeted aisle until he reached the door, when springing to +his feet he made a dash for the street. He heard the sexton shouting +angrily after him, but he paid no heed. On and on he ran until he +reached his room where Tag gave him a wildly delighted welcome, and in +a very short time thereafter the stand at "Tode's Corner" was doing a +brisk business.</p> + + + +<a name="05"></a> +<h1>V. In the Bishop's House</h1> + +<p>Tode's patrons were mostly newsboys of his acquaintance, who came +pretty regularly to his stand for breakfast, and generally for a +midday meal, lunch or dinner as it might be. Where they took their +supper he did not know, but he usually closed his place of business +after one o'clock, and spent a couple of hours roaming about the +streets doing any odd job that came in his way, if he happened to feel +like it, or to be in need of money.</p> + +<p>After his meeting with the bishop he often wandered up into the +neighbourhood of St. Mark's with a vague hope that he might see again +the man who seemed to his boyish imagination a very king among men. It +had long been Tode's secret ambition to grow into a big, strong man +himself--bigger and stronger than the common run of men. Now, whenever +he thought about it, he said to himself, "Just like the bishop."</p> + +<p>But he never met the bishop, and having found out that he did not +preach regularly at St. Mark's, Tode never went there after the second +time.</p> + +<p>One afternoon in late September, the boy was lounging along with Tag +at his heels in the neighbourhood of the church, when he heard a great +rattling of wheels and clattering of hoofs, and around the corner came +a pair of horses dragging a carriage that swung wildly from side to +side, as the horses came tearing down the street. There was no one in +the carriage, but the driver was puffing along a little way behind, +yelling frantically, "Stop 'em! Stop 'em! Why don't ye stop the +brutes!"</p> + +<p>There were not many people on the street, and the few men within sight +seemed not at all anxious to risk life or limb in an attempt to stop +horses going at such a reckless pace.</p> + +<p>Now Tode was only a little fellow not yet fourteen, but he was strong +and lithe as a young Indian, and as to fear--he did not know what it +was. As he saw the horses dashing toward him he leaped into the middle +of the street and stood there, eyes alert and limbs ready, directly in +their pathway. They swerved aside as they approached him, but with a +quick upward spring he grabbed the bit of the one nearest him, and +hung there with all his weight. This frightened and maddened the +horse, and he plunged and reared and flung his head from side to side, +until he succeeded in throwing the boy off. The delay however, slight +as it was, had given the driver time to come up, and he speedily +regained control of his team while a crowd quickly gathered.</p> + +<p>Tode had been flung off sidewise, his head striking the curbstone, and +there he lay motionless, while faithful Tag crouched beside him, now +and then licking the boy's fingers, and whining pitifully as he looked +from face to face, as if he would have said,</p> + +<p>"<i>Won't</i> some of you help him? I can't."</p> + +<p>The crowd pressed about the unconscious boy with a sort of morbid +curiosity, one proposing one thing and one another until a policeman +came along and promptly sent a summons for an ambulance; but before it +appeared, a tall grey-haired man came up the street and stopped to see +what was the matter. He was so tall that he could look over the heads +of most of the men, and as he saw the white face of the boy lying +there in the street, he hastily pushed aside the onlookers as if they +had been men of straw, and stooping, lifted the boy in his strong +arms.</p> + +<p>"Stand back," he cried, his voice ringing out like a trumpet, "would +you let the child die in the street?"</p> + +<p>They fell back before him, a whisper passing from lip to lip. "It's +the bishop!" they said, and some ran before him to open the gate and +some to ring the bell of the great house before which the accident had +occurred.</p> + +<p>Mechanically the bishop thanked them, but he looked at none of +them. His eyes were fixed upon the face that lay against his shoulder, +the blood dripping slowly from a cut on one side of the head.</p> + +<p>The servant who opened the door stared for an instant wonderingly, at +his master with the child in his arms, and at the throng pressing +curiously after them, but the next moment he recovered from his +amazement and, admitting the bishop, politely but firmly shut out the +eager throng that would have entered with him. A lank, rough-haired +dog attempted to slink in at the bishop's heels, but the servant gave +him a kick that made him draw back with a yelp of pain, and he took +refuge under the steps where he remained all night, restless and +miserable, his quick ears yet ever on the alert for a voice or a step +that he knew.</p> + +<p>As the door closed behind the bishop, he exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Call Mrs. Martin, Brown, and then send for the doctor. This boy was +hurt at our very door."</p> + +<p>Brown promptly obeyed both orders, and Mrs. Martin, the housekeeper, +hastily prepared a room for the unexpected guest. The doctor soon +responded to the summons, but all his efforts failed to restore the +boy to consciousness that day. The bishop watched the child as +anxiously as if it had been one of his own flesh and blood. He had +neither wife nor child, but perhaps all the more for that, his great +heart held love enough and to spare for every child that came in his +way.</p> + +<p>It was near the close of the following day when Tode's eyes slowly +opened and he came back to consciousness, but his eyes wandered about +the strange room and he still lay silent and motionless. The doctor +and the bishop were both beside him at the moment and he glanced from +one face to the other in a vague, doubtful fashion. He asked no +question, however, and soon his eyes again closed wearily, but this +time in sleep, healthful and refreshing, instead of the stupor that +had preceded it, and the doctor turned away with an expression of +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"He'll pull through now," he said in a low tone. "He's young and full +of vitality--he'll soon be all right."</p> + +<p>The bishop rubbed his hands with satisfaction. "That's well! That's +well!" he exclaimed, heartily.</p> + +<p>The doctor looked at him curiously. "Did you ever see the lad before +you picked him up yesterday?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, never," answered the bishop, who naturally had not recognised in +Tode the boy whom he had taken into church that Sunday, weeks before.</p> + +<p>The doctor shook his head as he drove off and muttered to himself,</p> + +<p>"Whoever saw such a man! Who but our bishop would ever think of taking +a little street urchin like that right into his home and treating him +as if he were his own flesh and blood! Well, well, he himself gets +taken in often no doubt in another fashion, but all the same the world +would be the better if there were more like him!"</p> + +<p>And if the doctor's pronouns were a little mixed he himself understood +what he meant, and nobody else had anything to do with the matter.</p> + +<p>The next morning Tode awoke again and this time to a full and lively +consciousness of his surroundings. It was still early and the nurse +was dozing in an easy-chair beside the bed. The boy looked at her +curiously, then he raised himself on his elbow and gazed about him, +but as he did so he became conscious of a dull throbbing pain in one +side of his head and a sick faintness swept over him. It was his first +experience of weakness, and it startled him into a faint groan as his +head fell back on the pillow.</p> + +<p>The sound awoke the nurse, who held a spoonful of medicine to his +lips, saying,</p> + +<p>"Lie still. The doctor says you must not talk at all until he comes."</p> + +<p>"So," thought the boy. "I've got a doctor. Wonder where I am an' what +ails me, anyhow."</p> + +<p>But that strange weakness made it easy to obey orders and lie still +while the nurse bathed his face and hands and freshened up the bed and +the room. Then she brought him a bowl of chicken broth with which she +fed him. It tasted delicious, and he swallowed it hungrily and wished +there had been more. Then as he lay back on the pillows he remembered +all that had happened--the horses running down the street, his attempt +to stop them, and the awful blow on his head as it struck the +curbstone.</p> + +<p>"Wonder where I am? Tain't a hospital, anyhow," he thought. "My! But I +feel nice an' clean an' so--so light, somehow! If only my head wasn't +so sore!"</p> + +<p>No wonder he felt "nice and clean and light somehow," when, for the +first time in his life his body and garments as well as his bed, were +as sweet and fresh as hands could make them. Tode never had minded +dirt. Why should he, when he had been born in it and had grown up +knowing nothing better? Yet, none the less, was this new experience +most delightful to him--so delightful that he didn't care to talk. It +was happiness enough for him, just then, to lie still and enjoy these +new conditions, and so presently he floated off again into sleep--a +sleep full of beautiful dreams from which the low murmur of voices +aroused him, and he opened his eyes to see the nurse and the doctor +looking down at him.</p> + +<p>"Well, my boy," said the doctor, with his fingers on the wrist near +him, "you look better. Feel better too, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Tode gazed at him, wondering who he was and paying no attention to his +question.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," exclaimed the nurse, suddenly, "he hasn't spoken a single +word. Do you suppose he can be deaf and dumb?"</p> + +<p>The bishop entered the room just in time to catch the last words.</p> + +<p>"Deaf and dumb!" he repeated, in a tone of dismay. "Dear me! If the +poor child is deaf and dumb, I shall certainly keep him here until I +can find a better home for him."</p> + +<p>As his eyes rested on the bishop Tode started and uttered a little +inarticulate cry of joy; then, as he understood what the bishop was +saying, a singular expression passed over his face. The doctor, +watching him closely could make nothing of it.</p> + +<p>"He looks as if he knew you, bishop," the doctor said.</p> + +<p>The bishop had taken the boy's rough little hand in his own large, +kindly grasp.</p> + +<p>"No, doctor," he answered, "I don't think I've ever seen him before +yesterday, but we're friends all the same, aren't we, my lad?" and he +smiled down into the grey eyes looking up to him so earnestly and +happily.</p> + +<p>Tode opened his lips to speak, then suddenly remembering, slightly +shook his head while the colour mounted in his pale cheeks.</p> + +<p>"He acts like a deaf mute, certainly," muttered the doctor, and +stepping to the head of the bed he pulled out his watch and held it +first to one and then the other of Tode's ears, but out of his sight.</p> + +<p>Tode's ears were as sharp as a ferret's and his brain was as quick as +his ears. He knew well enough what the doctor was doing but he made no +sign. Were not the bishop's words ringing in his ears? "If the poor +child is deaf and dumb I shall certainly keep him here until I can +find a better home for him."</p> + +<p>There were few things at which the boy would have hesitated to ensure +his staying there. He understood now that he was in the house of the +bishop--"my bishop" he called him in his thought.</p> + +<p>So, naturally enough, it was taken for granted that the boy was deaf +and dumb, for no one imagined the possibility of his pretending to be +so. Tode thought it would be easy to keep up the deception, but at +first he found it very hard. As his strength returned there were so +many questions that he wanted to ask, but he fully believed that if it +were known that he could hear and speak he would be sent away, and +more and more as the days went by he longed to remain where he was.</p> + +<p>As he grew stronger and able to sit up, books and games and pictures +were provided for his amusement, yet still the hours sometimes dragged +somewhat heavily, but it was better when he was well enough to walk +about the house.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin, the housekeeper, had first admired the boy's bravery, +then pitied him for his suffering, and had ended by loving him, +because she, too, had a big, kindly heart that was ready to love +anybody who needed her love and service. So, it was with great +satisfaction that she obeyed the bishop's orders, and bought for the +boy a good, serviceable outfit as soon as he was able to walk about +his room.</p> + +<p>She combed out and trimmed his rough, thick hair, and then helped him +dress himself in one of his new suits. As she tied his necktie for him +she looked at him with the greatest satisfaction, saying to herself,</p> + +<p>"Whoever would believe that it was the same boy? If only he could hear +and speak now like other boys, I'd have nothing more to ask for him."</p> + +<p>Then she stooped and kissed him. Tode wriggled uneasily under the +unwonted caress, not quite certain whether or not he liked it--from a +woman. The housekeeper took his hand and led him down the stairs to +the bishop's study. It was a long room containing many books and +easy-chairs and two large desks. At one of these the bishop sat + +writing, and over the other bent a short, dark-faced man who wore +glasses.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Mrs. Martin, come in," called the bishop, as he saw her +standing at the open door. "And who is this?" he added, holding out +his hand to the boy.</p> + +<p>"You don't recognize him?" Mrs. Martin asked smiling down on Tode's +smooth head.</p> + +<p>The bishop looked keenly at the boy, then he smiled contentedly and +drew the little fellow to his side.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" he said, "the clothes we wear do make a great +difference, don't they, Mrs. Martin? He's a fine looking lad. Gibson, +this is the boy I was telling you about."</p> + +<p>The little dark man turned and looked at Tode as the bishop spoke. It +was not a friendly look, and Tode felt it.</p> + +<p>"Ah," replied Mr. Gibson, slowly. "So this is the boy, is it? He was +fortunate to fall into your hands;" and with a sharp, sidelong glance +over his shoulder, Mr. Gibson turned again to his work.</p> + +<p>The bishop drew a great armchair close to his table and gently pushed +Tode into it. Then he brought a big book full of pictures and put it +into the boy's hands.</p> + +<p>"Let him stay here for a while, Mrs. Martin," he said. "I always work +better when there is a child near me--if it's the right sort of a +child," he added, with a smile.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin went out, and Tode, with a long, happy breath, leaned back +in the big chair and looked about him at the many books, at the dark +head bent over the desk in the alcove, finally at the noble face of +the bishop intent on his writing.</p> + +<p>This was the beginning of many happy hours for Tode. Perhaps it was +the weakness and languor resulting from his accident that made him +willing to sit quietly a whole morning or afternoon in the study +beside the bishop's table, when, before this, to sit still for half an +hour would have been an almost unendurable penance to him; but there +was another and a far stronger reason in the deep reverential love for +the bishop, that day by day was growing and strengthening into a +passion in his young heart. The boy's heart was like a garden-spot in +which the rich, strong soil lay ready to receive any seed that might +fall upon it. Better seed could not be than that which all +unconsciously this man of God--the bishop--was sowing therein, as day +after day he gave his Master's message to the sick and sinful and +sorrowful souls that came to him for help and comfort.</p> + +<p>It goes without saying that the bishop had small leisure, for many and +heavy were the demands upon his time and thought, but nevertheless he +kept two hours a day sacredly free from all other claims, that he +might give them to any of God's poor or troubled ones who desired to +see him, and believing that Tode could hear nothing that was said, he +often kept the boy with him during these hours.</p> + +<p>Strange and wonderful lessons were those that the little street boy +learned from the consecrated lips of the good bishop--lessons of God's +love to man, and of the loving service that man owes not only to his +God, but to his brother man. Strange, sad lessons too, of sin and +sorrow, and their far-reaching influence on human lives. Tode had not +lived in the streets for nearly fourteen years without learning a +great deal about the sin that is in the world, but never until now, +had he understood and realised the evil of it and the cure for +it. Many a time he longed to ask the bishop some of the questions that +filled his mind, but that he dared not do.</p> + +<p>Among these visitors there came one morning to the study a plainly +dressed lady with a face that Tode liked at the first glance. As she +talked with the bishop, the boy kept his eyes on the book open in his +lap, but he heard all that was said--heard it at first with a startled +surprise that changed into a sick feeling of shame and misery--for the +story to which he listened was this:</p> + +<p>The lady was a Mrs. Russell. The bishop had formerly been her pastor +and she still came to him for help and counsel. She had been much +interested in a boy of sixteen who had been in her class in the +mission school, a boy who was entirely alone in the world. He had +picked up a living in the streets, much as Tode himself had done, and +finally had fallen into bad company and into trouble.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Russell had interested herself in his behalf, and upon her +promise to be responsible for him, he had been delivered over to her +instead of being sent to a reform school. She went to a number of the +smaller dry goods stores and secured promises of employment for the +boy as parcel deliverer. To do this work he must have a tricycle, and +the energetic little lady having found a secondhand one that could be +had for thirty dollars, set herself to secure this sum from several of +her friends. This she had done, and was on her way to buy the tricycle +when she lost her pocketbook. The owner of the tricycle, being anxious +to sell, and having another offer, would not hold it for her, but sold +it to the other customer. The boy, bitterly disappointed, lost hope +and heart, and that night left the place where Mrs. Russell had put +him. Since then she had sought in vain for him, and now, unwilling to +give him up, she had come to ask the bishop's help in the search.</p> + +<p>To all this Tode listened with flushed cheeks and fast-beating heart, +while before his mind flashed a picture of himself, wet, dirty and +ragged, gliding under the feet of the horses on the muddy street, the +missing pocketbook clutched tightly in his hand. Then a second picture +rose before him, and he saw himself crowding the emptied book into +that box on the chapel door of St. Mark's.</p> + +<p>The bishop pulled open a drawer in his desk and took from it a +pocketbook, broken and stained with mud. He handed it to Mrs. Russell, +who looked at him in silent wonder as she saw her own name on the +inside.</p> + +<p>"<i>How</i> did it get into your hands?" she questioned, at last.</p> + +<p>"You would never guess how," the bishop answered. "It was found in the +pastor's box at St. Mark's, and the rector came to me to inquire if I +knew any one of that name. I had not your present address, but have +been intending to look you up as soon as I could find time."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand it," said Mrs. Russell, carefully examining each +compartment of the book. "Why in the world should the thief have put +the empty pocketbook there, of all places?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he would want to get rid of it," the bishop replied, +thoughtfully, "but that certainly was a strange place in which to put +it."</p> + +<p>"If the thief could know how the loss of that money drove that poor +foolish boy back into sin and misery, he surely would wish he had +never touched it--if he has any conscience left," said Mrs. Russell. +"There is good stuff in that poor boy of mine, and I can't bear to +give him up and leave him to go to ruin."</p> + +<p>The bishop looked at her with a grave smile as he answered:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Russell, I never yet knew you willing to give up one of your +straying lambs. Like the Master Himself, your big heart always yearns +over the wanderers from the fold. I wonder," he added, "if we couldn't +get one or two newsboys to help in this search. Many of them are very +keen, sharp little fellows, and they'd be as likely as anybody to know +Jack, and to know his whereabouts if he is still in the city. Let me +see--his name is Jack Finney, and he is about fifteen or sixteen now, +isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, nearly sixteen."</p> + +<p>"Suppose you give me a description of him, Mrs. Russell. I ought to +remember how he looks, but I see so many, you know," the bishop added, +apologetically.</p> + +<p>"Of course you cannot remember all the boys who were in our mission +school," replied Mrs. Russell. "Jack is tall and large, for +fifteen. His hair is sandy, his eyes blue, and, well--his mouth +<i>is</i> rather large. Jack isn't a beauty, and he is rough and rude, +and I'm afraid he often does things that he ought not to do, but only +think what a hard time he has had in the world thus far."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the bishop with a sigh, "he <i>has</i> had a hard time, +and it is not to be wondered at that he has gone wrong. Many a boy +does that who has every help toward right living. Well now, +Mrs. Russell, I'll see what I can do to help you in this matter. Your +faith in the boy ought to go far toward keeping him straight if we can +find him."</p> + +<p>The bishop walked to the hall with his visitor. When he came back +Tode sat with his eyes fastened on the open book in his lap, though he +saw it not.</p> + +<p>He did not look up with his usual bright smile when the bishop sat +down beside him. That night he could not eat, and when he went to bed +he could not sleep.</p> + +<p>"Thief! Thief! You're a thief! You're a thief!"</p> + +<p>Over and over and over again these words sounded in Tode's ears. He +had known of course that he was a thief, but he had never +<i>realised</i> it until this day. As he had sat there and listened to +Mrs. Russell's story, he seemed to see clearly how his soul had been +soiled with sin as surely as his body had been with dirt, and even as +now the thought of going back to his former surroundings sickened him, +so the remembrance of the evil that he had known and done, now seemed +horrible to him. It was as if he looked at himself and his past life +through the pure eyes of the bishop--and he hated it all. Dimly he +began to see that there was something that he must do, but what that +something was, he could not as yet determine. He was not willing in +fact to do what his newly awakened conscience told him that he ought +to do.</p> + +<p>In the morning he showed so plainly the effects of his wakeful night, +and of his first moral battle, that the bishop was much concerned.</p> + +<p>He had begun to teach the boy to write that he might communicate with +him in that fashion, but as yet Tode had not progressed far enough to +make communication with him easy, though he was beginning to read +quite readily the bold, clear handwriting of the bishop.</p> + +<p>This morning, the bishop, noting the boy's pale cheeks and heavy eyes, +proposed a walk instead of the writing lesson. Tode was delighted to +go, and the two set off together. Now the boy had an opportunity to +see yet farther into the heart and life of this good, great man. They +went on and on, away from the wide streets and handsome houses, into +the tenement house district, and finally into an old building, where +many families found shelter--such as it was. Up one flight after +another of rickety stairs the bishop led the boy. At last he stopped +and knocked at a door on a dark landing.</p> + +<p>The door was opened by a woman whose eyes looked as if she had +forgotten how to smile, but a light flashed into them at sight of her +visitor. She hurriedly dusted a chair with her apron, and as the +bishop took it he lifted to his knee one of the little ones clinging +to the mother's skirts. There were four little children, but one lay, +pale and motionless on a bed in one corner of the room.</p> + +<p>"She is sick?" inquired the bishop, his voice full of sympathy, as he +looked at the small, wan face.</p> + +<p>The woman's eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, "I doubt I'm goin' to lose her, an' I feel I +ought to be glad for her sake--but I can't." She bent over the little +form and kissed the heavy eyelids.</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about it, my daughter," the bishop said, and the woman +poured out her story--the old story of a husband who provided for his +family after a fashion, when he was sober, but left them to starve +when the drink demon possessed him. He had been away now for three +weeks, and there was no money for medicine for the sick child, or food +for the others.</p> + +<p>Before the story was told the bishop's hand was in his pocket and he +held out some money to the woman, saying,</p> + +<p>"Go out and buy what you need. It will be better for you to get it, +than for me to. The breath of air will do you good, and I will see to +the children until you come back."</p> + +<p>She hesitated for a moment, then with a word of thanks, threw a shawl +over her head and was gone.</p> + +<p>The bishop gathered the three older children about him, one on each +knee and the third held close to his side, and told them stories that +held them spellbound until the sick baby began to stir and moan +feebly. Then the bishop arose, and taking the little creature tenderly +in his strong arms, walked back and forth in the small room until the +moaning cry ceased and the child slept. He had just laid it again on +the bed when the mother came back with her arms full of packages. The +look of dull despair was gone from her worn face, and there was a +gleam of hope in her eyes as she hastily prepared the medicine for the +baby, while the bishop eagerly tore open one of the packages, and put +bread into the hands of the other children.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, sir,--an' He will!" the woman said, earnestly, as the +bishop was departing with a promise to come soon again.</p> + +<p>Tode, from his seat in a corner had looked on and listened to all, and +now followed the bishop down to the street, and on until they came to +a big building. The boy did not know then what place it was. Afterward +he learned that it was the poorhouse.</p> + +<p>Among the human driftwood gathered here there was one old man who had +been a cobbler, working at his trade as long as he had strength to do +so. The bishop had known him for a long time before he gave up his +work, and now it was the one delight of the old man's life to have a +visit from the bishop, and knowing this, the latter never failed to +come several times each year. The old cobbler lived on the memory of +these visits through the lonely weeks that followed them, looking +forward to them as the only bright spots in his sorrowful life.</p> + +<p>"You'll pray with me before ye go?" he pleaded on this day when his +visitor arose to leave.</p> + +<p>"Surely," was the quick reply, and the bishop, falling on his knees, +drew Tode down beside him, and the old cobbler, the child and the man +of God, bowed their heads together.</p> + +<p>A great wonder fell upon Tode first, as he listened to that prayer, +and then his heart seemed to melt within him. When he rose from his +knees, he had learned Who and What God is, and what it is to pray, and +though he could not understand how it was, or why--he knew that +henceforth his own life must be wholly different. Something in him +was changed and he was full of a strange happiness as he walked +homeward beside his friend.</p> + +<p>But all in a moment his new joy departed, banished by the remembrance +of that pocketbook.</p> + +<p>"I found it. I picked it up," he argued to himself, but then arose +before him the memory of other things that he had stolen--of many an +evil thing that he had done, and gloried in the doing. Now the +remembrance of these things made him wretched.</p> + +<p>The bishop was to deliver an address that evening, and Tode was alone, +for he did not feel like going to the housekeeper's room.</p> + +<p>He was free to go where he chose about the house, so he wandered from +room to room, and finally to the study. It was dark there, but he felt +his way to his seat beside the bishop's desk, and sitting there in the +dark the boy faced his past and his future; faced, too, a duty that +lay before him--a duty so hard that it seemed to him he never could +perform it, yet he knew he must. It was to tell the bishop how he had +been deceiving him all these weeks.</p> + +<p>Tears were strangers to Tode's eyes, but they flowed down his cheeks +as he sat there in the dark and thought of the happy days he had spent +there, and that now he must go away from it all--away from the +bishop--back to the wretched and miserable life which was all he had +known before.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how <i>can</i> I tell him! How can I tell him!" he sobbed aloud, +with his head on the desk.</p> + +<p>The next moment a strong, wiry hand seized his right ear with a grip +that made him wince, while a voice with a thrill of evil satisfaction +in it, exclaimed in a low, guarded tone,</p> + +<p>"So! I've caught you, you young cheat. I've suspected for some time +that you were pulling the wool over the bishop's eyes, but you were so +plaguy cunning that I couldn't nab you before. You're a fine +specimen, aren't you? What do you think the bishop will say to all +this?"</p> + +<p>Tode had recognised the voice of Mr. Gibson, the secretary. He knew +that the secretary had a way of going about as soft-footed as a +cat. He tried to jerk his ear free, but at that Mr. Gibson gave it +such a tweak that Tode could hardly keep from crying out with the +pain. He did keep from it, however, and the next moment the secretary +let him go, and, striking a match, lit the gas, and then softly closed +the door.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, coming back to the desk, "what have you to say for +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing--to you," replied Tode, looking full into the dark face and +cruel eyes of the man. "I'll tell the bishop myself what there is to +tell."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you will, will you?" answered the man, with a sneer. "I reckon +before you get through with your telling you'll wish you'd never been +born. The bishop's the gentlest of men--until he finds that some one +has been trying to deceive him. And you--you whom he picked up out of +the street, you whom he has treated as if you were his own son--I tell +you, boy, you'll think you've been struck by lightning when the bishop +orders you out of his sight. He never forgives deceit like yours."</p> + +<p>Tode's face paled and his lips trembled as he listened, but he would +not give way before his tormentor.</p> + +<p>His silence angered the secretary yet more. "Why don't you speak?" he +exclaimed, sharply.</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to the bishop--not to you," replied the boy, steadily.</p> + +<p>His defiant tone and undaunted look made the secretary furious. He +sprang toward the boy, but Tode was on the watch now, and slipped out +of his chair and round to the other side of the desk, where he stopped +and again faced his enemy, for he knew now that this man was his +enemy, though he could not guess the reason of his enmity. The +secretary took a step forward, but at that Tode sped across the room +out of the door, and up to his own room, the door of which he locked.</p> + +<p>Then he sat down and thought over what had happened, and the more he +thought of it the more certain he felt that what the secretary had +said was true.</p> + +<p>A long, long time the boy sat there, thinking sad and bitter +thoughts. At last, with a heavy sigh, he lifted his head and looked +about the bright, pretty room, as if he would fix it all in his mind +so that he never could forget it, and as he looked at the soft, rich +carpet, the little white bed with its fresh, clean linen, the wide, +roomy washstand and bureau, he seemed at the same time to see the +bare, dirty, cheerless little closet-like room to which he must +return, and his heart ached again.</p> + +<p>At last he started up, searched in his pockets for a piece of paper +and a pencil, and began to write. His paper was a much-crumpled piece +that he had found that morning in the wastebasket, and as yet his +writing and spelling were poor enough, but he knew what he wanted to +express, and this is what he wrote:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>DEAR BISHOP:</p> + +<p>I hav ben mene and bad i am not def and dum but i acted like i was +caus I thot you wood not kepe me if yu knu I am sory now so i am going +away but i am going to kepe strate and not bee bad any more ever. I +thank you and i lov you deer.</p> + +<p>TODE BRYAN.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>It took the boy a long time to write this and there were many smudges +and erasures where he had rubbed out and rewritten words. He looked at +it with dissatisfied eyes when it was done, mentally contrasting it +with the neat, beautifully written letters he had so often seen on the +bishop's desk.</p> + +<p>"Can't help it. I can't do no better," he said to himself, with a +sigh. Then he stood for several minutes holding the paper thoughtfully +in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I know," he exclaimed at last, and ran softly down to the study. It +was dark again there and he knew that Mr. Gibson had gone.</p> + +<p>Going to the desk, he found the Bible which the bishop always kept +there. As Tode lifted it the leaves fell apart at one of the bishop's +best-loved chapters, and there the boy laid his letter and closed the +book. He hesitated a moment, and then kneeling down beside the desk, +he laid his face on the cover of the Bible and whispered solemnly,</p> + +<p>"I <i>will</i> keep straight--I will."</p> + +<p>It was nearly nine o'clock when Tode returned to what had been his +room; what would be so no longer. He undressed slowly, and as he took +off each garment he looked at it and touched it lingeringly before he +laid it aside.</p> + +<p>"I b'lieve he'd want me to keep these clothes," he thought, "but I +don't know. Maybe he wouldn't when he finds out how I've been cheatin' +him. Mrs. Martin's burnt up my old ones, an' I've got to have some to +wear, but I'll only take what I must have."</p> + +<p>So, with a sigh, he laid aside his white shirt with its glossy collar +and cuffs, his pretty necktie and handkerchief. He hesitated over the +shoes and stockings, but finally with a shake of the head, those, too, +were laid aside, leaving nothing but one under garment and his jacket, +trousers and cap.</p> + +<p>Then he put out the gas and crept into bed. A little later he heard +Mrs. Martin go up to her room, stopping for a moment to glance into +his and see that he was in bed. Later still, he heard the bishop come +in and go to his room, and soon after the lights were out and all the +house was still.</p> + +<p>Tode lay with wide open eyes until the big hall clock struck +twelve. Then he arose, slipped on his few garments and turned to leave +the room, but suddenly went back and took up a little Testament.</p> + +<p>"He told me to keep it always an' read a bit in it ev'ry day," the boy +thought, as with the little book in his hand he crept silently down +the stairs. They creaked under the light tread of his bare feet as +they never had creaked in the daytime. He crossed the wide hall, +unfastened the door, and passed out into the night.</p> + + + +<a name="06"></a> +<h1>VI. Tode's New Start</h1> + +<p>A chill seemed to strike to Tode's heart as he stood on the stone +steps and looked up to the windows of the room where the bishop was +sleeping, and his eyes were wet as he passed slowly and sorrowfully +out of the gate and turned down the street. Suddenly there was a swift +rush, a quick, joyful bark, and there was Tag, dancing about him, +jumping up to lick his fingers, and altogether almost out of his wits +with joy.</p> + +<p>Tode sat down on the curbstone and hugged his rough, faithful friend, +and if he whispered into the dog's ear some of the grief that made the +hour such a bitter one--Tag was true and trusty: he never told +it. Neither did he tell how, night after night, he had watched beside +the big house into which he had seen his master carried, nor how many +times he had been driven away in the morning by the servants. But +Tag's troubles were over now. He had found his master.</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="images/3.png" alt="[Illustration: Adrift Again.]" /></p> + +<p>"Well, ol' fellow, we can't stay here all night. We must go on," Tode +said at last, and the two walked on together to the house where the +boy had slept before his accident. The outer door was ajar as usual, +and Tode and the dog went up the stairs together.</p> + +<p>Tode tried the door of his room. It was locked on the inside.</p> + +<p>"They've let somebody else have it," he said to himself. "Well, Tag, +we'll have to find some other place. Come on!"</p> + +<p>Once the boy would not have minded sleeping on a grating, or a +doorstep, but now it seemed hard and dreary enough to him. He shivered +with the cold and shrank from going to any of his old haunts where he +would be likely to find some of his acquaintances, homeless street +Arabs, like himself. Finally he found an empty packing box in an +alley, and into this he crept, glad to put his bare feet against Tag's +warm body. But it was a dreary night to him, and weary as he was, he +slept but little. As he lay there looking up at the stars, he thought +much of the new life that he was to live henceforth. He knew very well +that it would be no easy thing for him to live such a life, but +obstacles in his way never deterred Tode from doing, or at least +attempting to do, what he had made up his mind to. He thought much, +too, of the bishop, and these thoughts gave him such a heartache that +he would almost have banished them had he been able to do so--almost, +but not quite, for even with the heartache it was a joy to him to +recall every look of that noble face--every tone of that voice that +seemed to thrill his heart even in the remembrance.</p> + +<p>Then came thoughts of Nan and Little Brother, and these brought +comfort to Tode's sorrowful heart. He had not forgotten Little Brother +during the past weeks. There had never been a day when he had not +thought of the child with a longing desire to see him, though even for +his sake he could hardly have brought himself to lose a day with the +bishop. Now, however, that he had shut himself out forever from what +seemed to him the Paradise of the bishop's home, his thoughts turned +again lovingly toward the little one, and he could hardly wait for +morning, so eager was he to go to him.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for his impatience, he knew that the Hunts and Nan would +be early astir, and at the first possible moment he went in search of +them. He ran up the stairs with Tag at his heels, and almost trembling +with eagerness, knocked at the Hunts' door. Mrs. Hunt herself opened +it, and stared at the boy for a moment before she realised who it was.</p> + +<p>"For the land's sake, if it isn't Tode! Where in the world have you +been all this time?" she cried, holding the door open for him to +enter, while the children gazed wonderingly at him. "I've been +sick--got hurt," replied Tode, his eyes searching eagerly about the +room. "I don't see Nan or Little Brother," he added, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"They don't live here no more," piped up little Ned.</p> + +<p>Tode turned a startled glance upon Mrs. Hunt.</p> + +<p>"Don't live here!" he stammered. "Where do they live?"</p> + +<p>"Not far off; just cross the entry," replied Mrs. Hunt, +quickly. "Nan's taken a room herself."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Tode, in a tone of relief, "I'll go'n see her;" and +waiting for no further words, he went.</p> + +<p>"Well," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt, "he might 'a' told us how he got hurt an' +all, 'fore he rushed off, I should think."</p> + +<p>"Jus' like that Tode Bryan. He don't know nothin'!" remarked Dick, +scornfully.</p> + +<p>His mother gave him a searching glance. "There's worse boys than Tode +Bryan, I'm afraid," she said.</p> + +<p>"There ye go agin, always a flingin' at me," retorted Dick, +rudely. "How's a feller to git on in the world when his own mother's +always down on him?"</p> + +<p>"You know I'm not down on you, Dick," replied his mother, tearfully.</p> + +<p>"You're always a hintin' nowdays, anyhow," muttered Dick, as he + +reached over and helped himself to the biggest sausage in the dish.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt sighed but made no answer, and the breakfast was eaten +mostly in silence.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Tode running across the entry, had knocked on the door with +fingers fairly trembling with eagerness and excitement. Nan opening +it, gave a glad cry at sight of him, but the boy, with a nod, pushed +by her, and snatched up Little Brother who was lying on the bed.</p> + +<p>The baby stared at him for an instant and then as Tode hugged him more +roughly than he realised, the little lips trembled and the baby began +to sob. That almost broke Tode's heart. He put the child down, crying +out bitterly,</p> + +<p>"Oh Little Brother, <i>you</i> ain't goin' to turn against me, sure?"</p> + +<p>As he spoke he held out his hands wistfully, and the baby, now getting +a good look at him, recognised his favorite, and with his old smile +held out his arms to the boy, who caught him up again but more gently +this time, and sat down with him on his knee.</p> + +<p>It was some minutes before Tode paid any attention to Nan's questions, +so absorbed was he with the child, but at length he turned to her and +told her where he had been and what had happened to him. She listened +to his story with an eager interest that pleased him.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it strange," she said, when he paused, "wasn't it strange, and +lovely too, that you should have been taken into the bishop's +house--and kept there all this time? Did you like him just as much in +his home as in the church, Tode?"</p> + +<p>"He's--he's"--began Tode with shining eyes, then as the bishop's face +rose before him, he choked and was silent for a moment. "I don't +b'lieve there's any other man like him in <i>this</i> world," he said, +finally.</p> + +<p>Nan looked at him thoughtfully, at his face that seemed to have been +changed and refined by his sickness and his new associations, at the +neat clothes he wore, then at his bare feet.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think, if he's so good, that he would have let you come +away--so," she said, slowly.</p> + +<p>Tode flushed as he tried to hide his feet under his chair.</p> + +<p>"'Twasn't his fault," he answered, quickly. He too was silent for a +moment, then suddenly he sat upright with a look of stern resolve in +his grey eyes, as he added, "Nan, I'll tell you all there is about it, +'cause things are goin' to be diff'runt after this. I'm goin' to live +straight every way, I am; I've--promised."</p> + +<p>Then he told her frankly the whole story; how he had deceived the +bishop, pretending to be deaf and dumb; how Mr. Gibson had come upon +him in the study, and what he had said, and how, finally, he himself +had come away in the night.</p> + +<p>Nan listened to it all with the keenest interest.</p> + +<p>"And you had to sleep out of doors," she said; "I'm so sorry, but, if +the bishop is so good, why didn't you stay and tell him all about it, +Tode? Don't you think that that would have been better than coming +away so without thanking him for all he had done--or anything?"</p> + +<p>Tode shook his head emphatically. "You don't know him, Nan," he +replied. "He's good, oh better than anybody else in the world, I +b'lieve, but don't you see, just 'cause <i>he's</i> so good, he hates +cheatin' an' lyin', just <i>hates</i> 'em; an', oh I <i>couldn't</i> +tell him I'd been cheatin' him all this time, an' he so good to me."</p> + +<p>"I know, 'twould have been awful hard to tell him, Tode, but seems to +me 'twould have been best," the girl insisted.</p> + +<p>"I <i>couldn't</i>, Nan," Tode repeated, sadly, then impatiently +thrusting aside his sorrow and remorse, he added,</p> + +<p>"Come now, I want to know what you've been doin' while I've been +gone. I used to think an' think 'bout you'n him," glancing at the +baby, "an' wonder what you'd be doin'."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we've got on all right," answered Nan, "I was worried enough when +you didn't come, 'specially when one of the Hunt boys went down and +found that your stand had not been opened. I was sure something had +happened to you, 'cause I knew you never would stay away from us so, +unless something was the matter."</p> + +<p>"Right you are!" put in Tode, emphatically.</p> + +<p>Nan went on, "I was sure there was something wrong, too, when Tag came +here the next day. Poor fellow, I was so sorry for him. One of his +legs was all swollen and he limped dreadfully, and hungry--why, Tode, +he acted as if he were starving. But just as soon as I had fed him he +went off again, and didn't come back till the next morning, and he's +done that way ever since."</p> + +<p>Tag had kept his bright eyes fastened on Nan's face while she talked, +and he gave a little contented whine as Tode stooped and patted his +head.</p> + +<p>"But tell me what you've ben doin', Nan. How'd you get money enough +to hire this room an' fix it up so dandy?" Tode inquired, looking +about admiringly.</p> + +<p>While Nan talked she had been passing busily from table to stove, and +now she said, "Breakfast is ready, Tode. Bring your chair up here and +give me Little Brother."</p> + +<p>Tode reluctantly gave up the baby, and took his seat opposite Nan at +the little table.</p> + +<p>"You've got things fine," he remarked, glancing at the clean towel +that served for a tablecloth, and the neat white dishes and +well-cooked food. He was hungry enough to do full justice to Nan's +cooking, and the girl watched him with much satisfaction, eating +little herself, but feeding the baby, as she went on with her story.</p> + +<p>"When you didn't come back, I knew I must find some way to sell my +cookies and gingerbread and so I made some fresh and went to every +family in this house and asked 'em if they would buy their bread and +all of me instead of at the bakeshops. I told 'em I'd sell at the same +price as the shops and give them better things. Some wouldn't, but +most of them had sense enough to see that it would be a good thing for +them, and after they'd tried it once or twice they were ready enough +to keep on. Now I supply this house and the next one. It keeps me +cooking all day, but I don't mind that. I'm only too glad that I can +earn our living--Little Brother's and mine. Of course, I couldn't be +cooking all day on Mrs. Hunt's stove, and besides they have no room to +spare and we crowded 'em, and so, as soon as I got money enough, I +hired this room. I'm paying for the furniture as fast as I can. It was +all secondhand, of course."</p> + +<p>Tode looked admiringly at the girl, as she ceased speaking.</p> + +<p>"You've got a head," he remarked. "But now about cooking for my +stand. Will you have time to do that too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes indeed," replied Nan, promptly. "I'll find time somehow."</p> + +<p>Tode hesitated, moved uneasily in his chair and finally said, "'Spect +you'll have to trust me for the first lot, Nan. I ain't got no money, +ye know."</p> + +<p>"Why, Tode, have you forgotten that ten dollars you asked me to keep +for you?"</p> + +<p>"No--'course I ain't forgot it, but I thought maybe you'd had to use +it. Twould 'a' been all right if you had, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, I didn't have to use that. Here it is," and Nan brought it out +from some hidden pocket about her dress.</p> + +<p>"Then I'm all right," exclaimed the boy, in a tone of +satisfaction. "I've got to get some clothes first an' then I'll be +ready for business."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with those clothes?" questioned Nan.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've got to send these back to the bishop." Tode's face was grave +as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"But--I don't see why. He won't want em," Nan remonstrated.</p> + +<p>"It's this way, Nan." Tode spoke very earnestly. "If I'd been what he +thought I was, I know I could have kept all he gave me, but, you see, +if he'd known I was cheatin' an' lyin' to him all the time he wouldn't +'a' given me a single thing, so don't ye see, I ain't no business to +keep 'em, an' I ain't goin' to keep 'em a minute longer'n I have to."</p> + +<p>Nan shook her head, for Tode's reasoning had not convinced her, but +seeing how strong was his feeling in the matter she said no more, and +in a few minutes the boy went out, his face radiant with satisfaction, +because Little Brother cried after him.</p> + +<p>He invested half his ten dollars in some second-hand clothes, +including shoes and stockings. They were not very satisfactory after +the garments he had been wearing of late, but he said to himself, +"They'll have to do till I can get better ones an' sometime I'm agoin' +to have some shirts an' have 'em washed every week, too."</p> + +<p>Tode's trade, that day, was not very heavy, for it was not yet known +among his regular customers that he had reopened his stand, but he +took care to advertise the fact through those whom he met and he did +not fear but that his business would soon be prospering again.</p> + +<p>That afternoon he succeeded in securing a tiny room in the house with +Nan. It was a dismal little closet, lighted only from the hall, but it +was the best he could do, and Tode considered himself fortunate to +have his dark corner to himself, even though a broken chair and a +canvas cot without bedding of any sort were all the furniture he could +put into it then. Nan shook her head doubtfully when he showed her the +room.</p> + +<p>"Dark and dirty," she said, with a sniff of disgust, as the boy threw +open the door. "You must get somebody to scrub it for you, Tode, and +then whitewash the walls. That will make it sweeter and lighter."</p> + +<p>"So it will," responded the boy, promptly, "but I'll have to do the +scrubbin' an' white-washin' both, myself."</p> + +<p>Nan looked at him doubtfully. "I wonder if you'd get it clean," she +said. "Scrubbing's hard work."</p> + +<p>"You'll see. What'll I scrub it with--a broom?"</p> + +<p>"You ought to have a scrub-brush, but I haven't any. You'll have to do +it with an old broom and a cloth. I can let you have the broom and I +guess we can get a cloth of Mrs. Hunt. You going to do it now?" she +added, as Tode began to pull off his coat.</p> + +<p>"Right now," he answered. "You see, Nan, I've got loads of things to +do, an' I can't be wastin' time."</p> + +<p>"What things?" questioned Nan, curiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh--I'll tell you about them after awhile," replied the boy. "The +broom in your room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll bring it to you," and Nan hurried off.</p> + +<p>She came back with an old pail full of hot water, a piece of soap, a +broom and a cloth, and then she proceeded to show Tode how to clean +the woodwork and floor, thoroughly, with special attention to the dark +corners which looked, indeed, as if they had never been visited by a +broom. Nan was a thorough little housewife, and she longed to do the +whole work herself, but Tode would not allow that, so she could only +stand and look on, wondering inwardly how a boy could handle a broom +so awkwardly. But if he was slow and awkward about it, Tode was in +earnest, and he looked with much satisfaction at the result of his +labor when it was completed.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to wash the floor again after you've whitewashed the +walls," Nan said, "but it needed two scrubbings, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Tode looked at it ruefully. "Oh, did it?" he said. "I think one such +scrubbing as that ought to last it a year."</p> + +<p>Nan laughed. "If you'll carry out my bread and things to-morrow, I'll +do your whitewashing for you," she said.</p> + +<p>But Tode shook his head. "I'll carry out your stuff all right," he +answered, "but I ain't a-goin' to have a girl doin' my work for me."</p> + +<p>He bought the lime and paid also for the use of a pail and brush, and +the next day he put a white coat on his walls, and when this was done, +he was much better satisfied with his quarters. Nan offered to lend +him her shawl in place of a blanket, but he guessed that she needed it +herself and refused her offer.</p> + + + +<a name="07"></a> +<h1>VII. After Tode's Departure</h1> + +<p>In the bishop's household, Mrs. Martin was always one of the earliest +to rise in the morning, and just as Tode sat down to breakfast with +Nan and Little Brother, the housekeeper was going downstairs. Tode's +door stood open and she saw that he was not in the room. Her quick +eyes noted also the pile of neatly folded garments on a chair beside +the bed. She stepped into the room and looked around. Then she hurried +to the study, knowing that the boy loved to stay there, but the study +was unoccupied.</p> + +<p>By the time breakfast was ready she knew that the boy had left the +house, but the bishop refused to believe it, nor would he be convinced +until the house had been searched from attic to cellar. When +Mr. Gibson made his appearance, a gleam of satisfaction shone in his +narrow eyes as he learned of Tode's disappearance.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid something like this would happen," he remarked, +gravely. "It's a hopeless kind of business, trying to make anything +out of such material. I've had my suspicions of that boy for some +time."</p> + +<p>"Don't be too quick to condemn him, Mr. Gibson," exclaimed the +bishop, hastily. "He may have had some good reason for going away +so. I've no doubt he thought he had, but I had grown to love the lad +and I shall miss him sadly."</p> + +<p>"Did you never suspect that he was not deaf and dumb, as he pretended +to be?" the secretary asked.</p> + +<p>The bishop looked up quickly. "Why, no, indeed, I never had such an +idea," he answered. An unpleasant smile flickered over the +secretary's thin lips as he went on, "I heard the boy talking to +himself, here in this room, last evening. He can hear and speak as +well as you or I."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am sorry! I am sorry!" said the bishop, sadly, and then he +turned to his desk, and sitting down, hid his face in his hands, and +was silent. The secretary cast more than one swift, sidewise glance at +him, but dared say no more then.</p> + +<p>After a while the bishop drew his Bible toward him. It opened at the +fourteenth chapter of John, and there lay Tode's poor little soiled +and blotted note. The bishop read it with tear-dimmed eyes, read it +again and again, and finally slipped it into an envelope, and replaced +it between the leaves of his Bible. He said nothing about it to his +secretary, and presently he went to his own room, where for a long +time he walked back and forth, thinking about the boy, and how he +might find him again.</p> + +<p>Then Brown came to him with a telegram summoning him to the sickbed of +his only sister, and within an hour he left the city, and was absent +two weeks.</p> + +<p>Meantime Tode, the morning after his scrubbing and whitewashing +operations, had carefully folded the clothes he had worn when he left +the bishop's house and tied them up in an old newspaper. Into one of +the pockets of the jacket he had put a note which ran thus:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>DEAR MRS. MARTIN:</p> + +<p>Pleas giv thes cloes to the bishop and tell him i wud not have took +them away if i had had any others. I did not take shoes or stockins. +I keep the littel testament and i read in it evry day. Tell him i am +trying to be good and when i get good enuf I shall go and see him. You +was good to me but he was so good that he made me hate myself and +evrything bad. I can never be bad again while i remember him.</p> + +<p>TODE BRYAN.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>He hired a boy whom he knew, to carry the bundle to the bishop's +house, and from behind a tree-box further down the street, he watched +and saw it taken in by Brown. The boy's heart was beating hard and +fast, as he stood there longing, yet dreading, to see the bishop +himself come out of the house. But the bishop was far away, and Tode +walked sadly homeward, casting many a wistful, lingering glance +backward, as he went.</p> + +<p>Brown carried the package gingerly to Mrs. Martin, for the boy who +had delivered it was not over clean, and Mrs. Martin opened it with +some suspicion, but when she saw the clothes she recognised them +instantly, and finding the note in the pocket read it with wet eyes.</p> + +<p>"I knew that wasn't a bad boy," she said to herself, "and this proves +it. He's as honest as the day, or he wouldn't have sent back these +clothes--the poor little fellow. Well, well! I hope the bishop can +find him when he gets back, and as to the boy's pretending to be deaf +and dumb, I'm sure there was something underneath that if we only knew +it. Anyhow, I do hope I'll see the little fellow again sometime."</p> + +<p>When the bishop returned the accumulated work of his weeks of absence +so pressed upon him that for a while he had no time for anything else, +and when at last he was free to search for Tode, he could find no +trace of him.</p> + +<p>As for Tode, he had never once thought of the possibility of the +bishop's searching for him. He looked forward to seeing his friend +again sometime, but that time he put far away when he himself should +be "more fit," as he said to himself.</p> + +<p>One evening soon after his return, Nan had a long talk with him, a +talk that left her wondering greatly at the change in his thoughts and +purposes, and which made her regard him with quite a new feeling of +respect.</p> + +<p>"Nan," he began, "I told you I'd got loads of things to do now."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" The girl looked at him inquiringly.</p> + +<p>Tode was silent for a little. It was harder for him to speak than he +had thought it would be.</p> + +<p>"You see," he went on, slowly, "I've been mean as dirt all my +life. You don't know what mean things I've done, an' I ain't goin' to +tell ye, only that I know now I've got to turn straight around an' not +do 'em any more. I've got to make a man of myself," he drew himself up +as he spoke, "a real man--the kind that helps other folks up. I can't +say just what I mean, but I feel it myself," he added, with a +half-appealing glance at Nan.</p> + +<p>She had listened attentively with her eyes fastened on his earnest +face. Now she said softly, "You mean--you want to be the kind of man +the bishop is, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I couldn't ever be <i>really</i> like him," protested the boy, +quickly, "but, well, I'm goin' to try to be a sort of shadow of him. I +mean I'm goin' to try to amount to something myself, an' do what I can +to help other poor fellers up instead of down. I'm goin' to lend a +hand 'mongst the folks 'round here, just a little you know, as he does +'mongst the poor people he goes to see. But I've got some other +things to do too. I've got some money to pay back, an' I've got to +find a feller that I helped to pull down."</p> + +<p>And thereupon, Tode told the story of Mrs. Russell's pocketbook and +her search for Jack Finney. He told it all quite frankly, not trying +in the least to excuse or lessen his own guilt in the matter.</p> + +<p>"It will take you a long time to save up so much money, Tode," Nan +said when he paused.</p> + +<p>"Yes, unless I can find some way to earn more, but I can't help +that. I'll do the best I can, an' I've got some notions in my head."</p> + +<p>He talked over with her some of his plans and projects, and as she +listened, she thought to herself, "He's getting 'way ahead of me, but +I'm afraid he'll get into trouble at first."</p> + +<p>And she was not mistaken. Tode was now so thoroughly in earnest +himself that he forgot to take into consideration the fact that those +whom he meant to help up might prefer to be left to go down in their +own fashion. His old associates speedily discovered that a great +change had come over Tode Bryan, and the change did not meet with +their approval. They called it "mighty cheeky" of him to be "pokin' +his nose" into their affairs, and they would show him that he'd better +stop it. So Tode soon found himself exceedingly unpopular, and, what +was worse, in a way, under a boycott that threatened to ruin his +business.</p> + +<p>He fell into the way of carrying his trials and perplexities to Nan, +and talking them over with her. She had plenty of that common sense, +which is not very common after all, and she often made him see the +reason of his failures, while at the same time he was sure of her +sympathy.</p> + +<p>One evening Tode appeared in her room with his little Testament in his +hand. There was a perplexed expression in his eyes as he said, "Nan, +'bout readin' this, you know--I've been peggin' away at the first +part, an' I can't make nothin' of it. It's just a string of funny +words, names, I s'pose. <i>I</i> don't see no sense to it."</p> + +<p>Nan glanced at the page to which he had opened. It was the first +chapter of Matthew.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all it is, just a lot of names. You can skip all that, +Tode," she answered, easily.</p> + +<p>"No I can't, neither," replied the boy, decidedly. "If I begin to +skip, no knowin' where I'll stop. If it's readin' this book that makes +folks good, I've got to know all 'bout it. Say, can't you read this +with me an' tell me how to call all these jawbreakers?"</p> + +<p>Nan looked rather shocked at the boy's free and easy reference to the +Book, but seeing from his grave face and serious manner that he was +very much in earnest, she sat down with him, and the two young heads +bent over the page together.</p> + +<p>"I remember reading this chapter with mother," Nan said, gently, "and +she told me how to pronounce these names, but I can't remember all of +them now. I'll do the best I can, though," and she read slowly the +first seventeen verses, Tode repeating each name after her.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" he exclaimed, in a tone of intense relief, when the task was +ended, "that's 'bout the toughest job ever I tackled."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, you needn't read all that again. The rest of the +chapter is different. It's all about Jesus," Nan said.</p> + +<p>Tode read the remaining verses slowly by himself, but he shook his +head in a dissatisfied way as he closed the book. "That's easier than +the names to read, but I don't seem to get much out of it. Guess I'm +too thick-headed," he said, in a discouraged tone.</p> + +<p>"Tode," exclaimed Nan, suddenly, "you ought to go to some +Sunday-school. Then you'd learn all about the Bible and the things you +want to know."</p> + +<p>"Might be a good scheme, that's a fact," he answered, +thoughtfully. "Reckon I'll try it on anyhow, an' see how it works."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do. I always used to go before mother was sick. If you have a +good teacher you'll like it, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"There's a mission school down near my stand. I'll have a try at it +next Sunday an' see what it's like," Tode said.</p> + +<p>So the very next day he went to the mission chapel, and, from the +notice on the door, found out the hours of service, and the following +Sunday he was on hand in due season. As he went somewhat doubtfully up +the steps, he saw in the vestibule a young man, who stepped forward +and held out his hand, saying cordially,</p> + +<p>"Glad to see you here. Are you a stranger?"</p> + +<p>Tode wasn't quite sure what a stranger might be, but he muttered, "I +ain't never been here before."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm glad I happened to meet you. Will you come into my class?"</p> + +<p>Tode nodded and followed the young man into the chapel, which was +already nearly full of boys and girls.</p> + +<p>"My name is Scott. What is yours?" inquired the stranger, as he led +the way to his own corner of the room.</p> + +<p>Tode gave his name, and Mr. Scott introduced him to half a dozen boys +who had already taken their places in his class. One of these boys was +Dick Hunt. He gave Tode a careless nod by way of greeting, as the +latter dropped into the seat next him.</p> + +<p>To Tode's great satisfaction the lesson chanced to be on the birth of +the Lord Jesus, and Mr. Scott told the boys the whole story so clearly +and vividly, that Tode at least was intensely interested. It was all +new and fresh to him, and he was listening eagerly to every word, when +suddenly Dick Hunt ran a long pin deep into his leg. The pain made +him start and almost cry out, but he suppressed the cry as he turned +and gave Dick a savage pinch that made him writhe, as he exclaimed in +a threatening tone, "You stop that!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott turned grave, inquiring eyes on the two, as he asked:</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Dick?"</p> + +<p>"He's a pinchin' me--Tode Bryan is. He give me an awful tweak when you +wasn't a lookin'."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" Mr. Scott asked, and Tode, with a scornfully defiant +glance at Dick, answered promptly, "Yes."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Tode," said Mr. Scott; "you can sit here on the other +side."</p> + +<p>Tode's face flushed a little as he changed his seat, but now another +of the boys, having a grudge against Dick, cried out,</p> + +<p>"Hunt stuck a pin in him first; I seen him do it."</p> + +<p>"You hush up!" muttered Dick, with a scowl.</p> + +<p>Just then the superintendent's bell sounded and the lesson time was +over.</p> + +<p>When the school was dismissed, Mr. Scott detained Tode.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me that Dick had stuck a pin into you first," the +teacher asked, rapidly turning the leaves of his Bible as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I ain't a sneak like he is," answered Tode, briefly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott found the place that he wanted, and keeping his finger +between the leaves, looked thoughtfully at the boy before him.</p> + +<p>"You told me that your name is Tode. That is what the boys call +you. It isn't your real name, is it?" he asked, with a friendly look.</p> + +<p>Tode puckered his forehead into a puzzled frown at the question.</p> + +<p>"N-no," he answered, slowly. "There's some more to it, but I can't +think what 'tis. Wish't I could."</p> + +<p>"You've no father or mother?"</p> + +<p>"No--never had none since I's big enough to know anything," was the +careless reply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott laid his hand kindly on the lad's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"My boy," he said, slowly and earnestly, "I believe yours is a very +beautiful name. It must be Theodore."</p> + +<p>"That's it! That's it!" exclaimed Tode, excitedly. "I 'member +somebody told it to me once, an' I know that's it. How'd you know it +so quick?" He looked up wonderingly into his teacher's face as he +asked the question.</p> + +<p>"I once knew another Theodore who was nicknamed Tode; but, my boy, do +you know what your name means?"</p> + +<p>Tode shook his head. "Didn't know names meant anything," he answered.</p> + +<p>"But they do. Theodore means the gift of God. A boy with such a name +as that ought to count for something in the world."</p> + +<p>"I mean to." The boy uttered the words slowly and emphatically.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott's face brightened. "Do you mean that you love and serve the +Lord Jesus, Theodore?" he asked, softly.</p> + +<p>The boy shook his head half sadly, half perplexedly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know nothin' much 'bout Him," he answered, with a gentleness +most strange and unusual in him, "but I've promised to do the right +thing every time now--an' I'm a-goin' to do it."</p> + +<p>"You have promised--whom, Theodore?"</p> + +<p>"Promised myself--but I don't know nothin' much 'bout what is the +right thing," he added, in a discouraged tone.</p> + +<p>"You'll soon learn if you're in earnest, my boy. This Book will tell +you all you need to know. Can you read?"</p> + +<p>"Some."</p> + +<p>"Then read this verse for me, will you?" Mr. Scott held out his Bible +and pointed to the verse.</p> + +<p>Slowly and stumblingly the boy read, "Dearly beloved, avenge not +yourselves," and again,</p> + +<p>"Recompense to no man evil for evil."</p> + +<p>Seeing that Tode did not understand the meaning of what he had read, +Mr. Scott explained the passages to him. The boy listened attentively, +then he exclaimed in a tone of dismay,</p> + +<p>"But does it mean that a feller can't never strike back?"</p> + +<p>"That's what it says."</p> + +<p>Tode pondered this unpalatable statement with a clouded face.</p> + +<p>"But what ye goin' to do when some other feller cuts up rough with +ye?"</p> + +<p>"Find some other way to get even with him."</p> + +<p>"But I don't see--what other way is there 'cept hittin' him a harder +one'n he gives you?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott opened his Bible again and pointed to the last two verses of +the twelfth chapter of Romans.</p> + +<p>Tode went home that day with his mind in a tumult. These new ideas did +not suit him at all. A "word and a blow," and the blow first had been +his method of settling such questions heretofore, and it seemed to him +far the better way.</p> + +<p>He took a roundabout route home, for he did not want to see Nan until +he had thought out this matter to his own satisfaction. To help people +poorer or weaker than himself, or to "keep straight" himself, and help +others to do likewise--this was one thing. To meekly submit to ill +treatment and "take a blow" from a fellow whom he "could whip with his +little finger"--this was quite another and, to one of Tode's +temperament, a far more distasteful thing.</p> + +<p>The boy had reached no conclusion when he finally went home to +supper. He was silent and thoughtful all the evening, but it was not +until the following day that he spoke of the matter to Nan.</p> + +<p>Nan listened in perplexed silence to what he had to say. She had been +well taught while her mother lived, but she had never given these +subjects any real, deep thought, as Tode was doing now. She began to +feel that this rough, untaught street boy was likely to get far ahead +of her if he should keep on pondering over questions like this. Even +now she could give him but little help.</p> + +<p>Seeing this, Tode took up his Testament again, and read on and on +until he had finished the book of Matthew, and gained a pretty clear +idea of the life and death of Jesus the Christ. There was much, of +course, that he did not understand at all. Many of the words and +expressions conveyed no meaning to him, but yet he gathered enough to +understand, in a measure, what that Life was, and he began dimly to +realise why the bishop gave so much of his time and thought to God's +poor. The boy pondered these things in his heart, and a new world +seemed to open before him.</p> + +<p>"Nan," he said at last, "I've found out what my real name is. It's +Theodore."</p> + +<p>"Theodore," repeated the girl. "Well, I'm glad to know it, for I never +did like to call you Tode. How did you find out?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Scott said it to me, and I knew as soon as I heard it that that +was it."</p> + +<p>"Then I won't ever call you Tode again. I shall call you Theo. I like +that."</p> + +<p>The boy liked it too. It gave him a strange thrill of pleasure every +time he thought of what Mr. Scott had said about the meaning of his +name.</p> + + + +<a name="08"></a> +<h1>VIII. Theo's Shadow Work</h1> + +<p>The days that followed were very busy ones for both Nan and Theo. The +girl spent most of her time over the stove or the moulding board, and +the boy, delivering the supplies to many of the families in the two +big tenement houses, attending to his stand, and selling evening +papers, found the days hardly long enough for all that he wanted to +do.</p> + +<p>As he went from room to room with Nan's bread and soup and +gingerbread, he soon learned much about the different families and +found plenty of opportunities to serve as the "bishop's shadow," in +these poor homes. Money he had not to give, for every penny that he +could possibly spare was laid aside for a special purpose now, but he +found countless ways to carry help and sunshine to sad and sore +hearts, without money.</p> + +<p>One morning he left Nan's room with a basket piled with bread--brown +and white--in one hand, and a big tin pail full of boiled hominy in +the other. He went first to the top floor, stopping at one door after +another, where dirty, frowzy women and children opened at the sound of +his cheery whistle. He handed in the loaves, or the measures of hominy +with a gay word or a joke that more than once banished a frown from a +woman's worn face, or checked the tears of a tired, hungry +child. Children were getting to be fond of the boy now, and he liked +it.</p> + +<p>In one room there were two families and half a dozen children. In one +corner, on a rickety couch was a crippled boy, who had lain there day +after day, through long, weary months. He was listening intently for +that whistle outside the door, and when he heard it, his dull eyes +brightened, and he called out eagerly,</p> + +<p>"Oh, tell him to come in a minute--<i>just</i> a minute!"</p> + +<p>The woman who opened the door, said indifferently, "Tommy wants you to +come in a minute."</p> + +<p>Theo stepped over to the tumbled couch, and smiled down into the +wistful eyes of the sick boy.</p> + +<p>"Hello, old man!" he said, cheerily. "I've brought you something," and +out of his pocket he pulled a golden chrysanthemum that he had picked +up in the street the day before, and had kept all night in water. It +was not very fresh now, but Tommy snatched it hungrily, and gazed at +it with a happy smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how pretty--how pretty it is!" he cried, softly smoothing the +golden petals with his little bony forefinger. "Can I keep it, truly?"</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="images/4.png" alt="[Illustration: Oh, how pretty,--how pretty it is!]" /></p> + +<p>"'Course. I brought it for you," Theo answered, his round, freckled +face reflecting the boy's delight. "But I must scoot. Folks'll be +rowin' me if their bread's late."</p> + +<p>He ran off leaving the sick boy with the flower held lovingly against +his thin white cheek, while his eyes followed wistfully Theo's strong, +active figure as he hurried away.</p> + +<p>On the next floor, an old woman, bent and stiffened by rheumatism, sat +alone all day, while her children were away at work. She could not get +out of her chair, or help herself in any way. Her breakfast would be +a penny's worth of Nan's hominy, but on this morning her children had +gone off without even setting out a dish, or a cup of water for her.</p> + +<p>Tode brought her a saucer and spoon, filled a cup with fresh water +from the faucet, and pulled up the curtain so that the sunlight would +shine in upon her.</p> + +<p>"There, old lady," he said, brightly, when this was done, "now you're +all right, an' I'll be in again an' fix your dinner for ye."</p> + +<p>The old woman's dim eyes looked after him, and she muttered a word of +thanks as she turned slowly to her breakfast.</p> + +<p>The boy wasted no minutes, for he had none to spare, but even when he +did not step inside a door at all, he always had a smile or a bright +word ready for each customer, and in lives where sin or grinding +poverty has destroyed all hope, and life has become simply dull, +dogged endurance of suffering, a cheerful word or smile has a +wonderful power. These wretched women and forlorn little children had +already begun to look forward to the coming of the "bread boy," as the +little ones called him, as a bright spot in their days. In almost +every room he managed to leave a hint of cheer behind him, or at least +to lighten a little the cloudy atmosphere.</p> + +<p>His pail and basket empty, he ran back to Nan's room for his own +supplies, and having opened his stand he served his customers, taking +his own breakfast between whiles, as he had opportunity. He sold the +morning papers, too, at his stand, and between twelve and one o'clock +he was as busy as a boy could well be. After that hour few customers +appeared, and then, having made his midday meal from whatever he had +left, he closed his stand and went home.</p> + +<p>Then was his time for a little more of what Nan called his "shadow +work," when he refilled with fresh water the cup of the rheumatic old +woman, or carried her a cup of tea that Nan had made for her, adding +to it, perhaps, a cooky or a sandwich that remained from his stock. Or +he glanced into a room where two or three children were locked in all +day while the mothers were away at work--and attended to the fire for +them. Often he found time for a five minutes' chat with crippled +Tommy, and now and then he walked awhile with a sick baby in his arms +as he had seen the bishop do that day long before. They were all +little things that the boy did, but as he kept on doing them day after +day, he found in this service for others such happiness as he never +had known before.</p> + +<p>Tommy's delight in the half-withered chrysanthemum set Theo to +thinking, and the result of his thinking was that he began to frequent +the flower stalls and pick up the broken blossoms that were +occasionally thrown aside there.</p> + +<p>One day a woman who was selling flowers, said to him, "Say, boy, what +do you do with the flowers you pick up? I've seen you 'round here +after 'em lots o' times lately."</p> + +<p>"Give 'em to sick folks an' poor ones that can't get out anywheres," +replied the boy, promptly.</p> + +<p>The woman searched his face to see if he were deceiving her, but there +was nothing sly or underhanded in the clear eyes that returned her +gaze so frankly.</p> + +<p>"Hm-m," she murmured, thoughtfully. "What do you do Saturday nights, +boy?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin' much, after I've sold out my papers."</p> + +<p>"Well, Saturday night's our busy time here; one of our busy times, +that is, an' if you want to come 'round an' help for an hour or two, +I'll pay you in the flowers that are left over."</p> + +<p>Theo's eyes brightened, but he was shrewd, and was not going to bind +himself to an agreement that might not be satisfactory.</p> + +<p>"I'll come next Sat'day an' try it," he said.</p> + +<p>"All right," and the woman turned to a customer.</p> + +<p>Theo was on hand promptly the next Saturday evening. He found that the +flower woman wanted him to carry home pots of growing plants for lady +purchasers. He was kept busy until nine o'clock, and received in +payment a good-sized basket full of violets, roses, heliotrope and +carnations. Some had short stems, and some were a little wilted, but +the boy was well content with his pay.</p> + +<p>"Most of them will freshen up and look bright as ever if you put them +to-night in a pail of water where they'll have plenty of room," the +woman said; "and here--this is for good luck," and she handed him a +little pot of geranium with a cluster of pink blossoms.</p> + +<p>That brought a smile of genuine delight to the boy's face.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he cried, "that's dandy! I'll give it to Nan."</p> + +<p>"And who's Nan--your sister?" questioned the woman.</p> + +<p>"N--no, not quite. Guess she's as good's my sister, though. Shall I +come next Sat'day, ma'am?" replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, come next Saturday, an' right along, if you keep on doing as +well's you've done to-night."</p> + +<p>Theo almost ran home, so eager was he to show Nan his treasures. He +had never cared very much for flowers himself, but he was beginning +now to realise their value to others, and he was sure that Nan would +be delighted with the geranium.</p> + +<p>He was not disappointed. The girl's eyes sparkled at sight of the +delicate pink blossoms and she thanked him so heartily that he could +only mutter, "Oh, shucks! 'Tain't nothin' much."</p> + +<p>Then he showed her his basket of cut flowers, and she exclaimed +delightedly over them as she lifted them out as tenderly as if they +had been alive, and placed them carefully in a pail of fresh water in +which she had sprinkled a little salt.</p> + +<p>"Mother used to put salt in the water to keep flowers fresh," she +said, "and oh, won't it be <i>lovely</i> to carry these around to the +shut-ins, tomorrow, Theo! I think Mrs. Hunt would like some," she +added.</p> + +<p>"All right. Pick out what you like an' take 'em in to her now."</p> + +<p>Nan selected some of the freshest blossoms and went across with them +to her neighbour, leaving Theo with the baby, who was asleep. She was +gone some time, and when she returned her face was grave.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter? Didn't she like 'em?" asked the boy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, she was ever so pleased with them, and told me to thank +you for sending them to her--but, Theo, she's worrying so over Dick. +She thinks he's going all wrong."</p> + +<p>"So he is," answered Theo, soberly.</p> + +<p>"And can't you do anything about it?"</p> + +<p>"Don't see's I can. He's in with a mean lot o' fellers, 'n he's no +good anyhow, nowadays."</p> + +<p>"But there must be some good in him. His father and mother are so +good," pleaded Nan.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Hunt was crying when I went in. She says Dick often stays out +till midnight or after now, and she's afraid he'll be locked up."</p> + +<p>"Serve him right if he was," muttered Theo, under his breath.</p> + +<p>"He's lost the place his father got for him," added Nan.</p> + +<p>"'Course. Nobody'd keep such a feller long."</p> + +<p>Nan shook her head sorrowfully, thinking of Dick's mother. Theo said +no more, and soon left the room. Nan thought he had gone to bed, but +instead, he went out and walked slowly and somewhat doubtfully toward +a saloon which he had seen Dick enter more than once of late. Theo, +himself, used to go there, but he had not been near the place for many +a week. He did not want to go in now, and he waited about outside, +wishing that Dick would come out, and yet uncertain what to do if he +did come. Finally he pushed open the door and went up the stairs. A +dozen or so boys were there, many of whom he knew, and among them was +Dick. The proprietor of the place gave the boy a warm welcome, and +some of the boys greeted him gaily, but Dick scowled as Theo sat down +beside him.</p> + +<p>He waited until the loud talk began again, then he said in a low tone, +"Dick, I came after you. Will you go home with me now? Your mother's +frettin'."</p> + +<p>Dick's face darkened angrily.</p> + +<p>"Who made you boss over me?" he shouted, springing from his seat with +a threatening gesture. "You mind your own business, will you?"</p> + +<p>Theo's cheeks flushed as every face in the room was turned toward him.</p> + +<p>"What's the row?"</p> + +<p>"What's he doin'?"</p> + +<p>"What does he want?"</p> + +<p>"Put him out! Put him out!"</p> + +<p>These shouts and others mingled with oaths as all crowded about the +two boys.</p> + +<p>"There's no row, an' nothin' to get mad about," said Theo, trying to +speak quietly. "Dick's mother's frettin', an' I asked him to go home +with me. That's all there is about it."</p> + +<p>"An' enough it is too," exclaimed one of the boys. "Dick's big enough +to know when to go home, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"What's he got to do with me or my mother?" growled Dick, "I'll go +home when I get good an' ready, an' not before."</p> + +<p>"An' it's time for <i>you</i> to go home now!" exclaimed the +proprietor of the place, elbowing his way to the front of the group, +and addressing Theo. "We don't want none o' your sort around here. Now +clear out--d'ye hear?"</p> + +<p>Seeing that it was useless to stay longer, Theo departed, followed by +taunting cries and yells, from all in the room.</p> + +<p>He went gloomily homeward, telling himself that he had been a fool to +try to do anything for Dick Hunt. Dick was "no good anyhow." But, as +he passed her door, Mrs. Hunt opened it and peered anxiously out. Her +eyes were red and swollen, and she turned back with a disappointed air +as she saw Theo. The next moment however, she stepped out into the +hall, pushing the door to behind her.</p> + +<p>"Tode," she whispered, "do you know where my Dick is?"</p> + +<p>The boy answered reluctantly, "He's down at Todd's."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt put her apron to her eyes and sobbed softly. "Oh, dear," she +moaned, "his father's gone to look for him, an' if he finds him there +he'll most kill him--he's that mad with the boy for the way he's been +goin' on lately."</p> + +<p>Theo stood silent, not knowing what to say, and then Mrs. Hunt turned +back into the room while he went up another flight to his. He had just +reached his own door when he heard loud, angry voices accompanied by +scuffling sounds on the stairs below, and he knew that Mr. Hunt had +found Dick, and was bringing him home.</p> + +<p>After Theodore had gone out, Nan had put all the flowers into two big +dishes with plenty of water, and the next morning she was up early and +separated them, putting together two or three pinks or a rose with its +buds and a bit of foliage, or a cluster of geranium blossoms and green +leaves.</p> + +<p>When Theo came for them she laid the small clusters carefully in a +basket, and sprinkled them with fresh water, then as she stooped and +buried her face among the fragrant, beautiful things she exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Oh Theo, I wish I had time to go with you, and see how happy you make +them all with these beautiful, lovely flowers."</p> + +<p>"I'll begin with you," laughed the boy. "Pick out the ones you like +best."</p> + +<p>But Nan put her hands resolutely behind her and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not sick and I've had the pleasure of seeing them all, and +fixing them, beside my pot of geranium. That's plenty for me."</p> + +<p>Theodore looked critically at her, then at the blossoms; then he +picked out three delicate pink carnations.</p> + +<p>"No, no! Please don't, Theo," began the girl, but with a laughing +glance at her, Theodore laid the blossoms in Little Brother's small +white fingers, and hurried away.</p> + +<p>He went first to Tommy O'Brien's room. The sick boy's weary face +brightened at sight of him, but it fairly beamed when Theodore held up +the basket saying, "Choose any one of 'em Tommy--the very prettiest of +all."</p> + +<p>"O-oh!" cried Tommy. "I never saw so many. Oh, Theo, where did you get +'em all?"</p> + +<p>Theo told him while the woman and the children crowded about the +basket to see and exclaim over the contents.</p> + +<p>Tommy chose a spray of lily of the valley and Theo added a pink rose +and bud. Then he gave a blossom to each of the children and to their +mothers as well, and went away leaving softened faces and smiles in +place of frowns and sullen words.</p> + +<p>The old woman whose breakfast was so often forgotten was not alone +to-day. Her daughters were at home, but they were not paying much +attention to her. At first she peered stupidly with her half-blind +eyes into Theo's basket, then suddenly she cried out,</p> + +<p>"Oh, I smell 'em! I smell vi'lets. Where be they? Where be they?"</p> + +<p>There was one little bunch of violets in the basket. Theo snatched it +up and laid it in the wrinkled, trembling hands. The old woman held +the blossoms against her withered cheek, then she pressed them to her +lips, and two big tears rolled slowly down her face.</p> + +<p>"La! Ma's cryin' over them vi'lets. Here Tode, gi' me some o' them +bright ones. Gi' me a rose!" cried one of the young women, and Theo +handed each of them a rose and went away in silence. He glanced back +as he left the room. The old woman was still holding the violets to +her cheek and it was plain, even to the boy, that her thoughts were +far away.</p> + +<p>So, from room to room he went and nowhere did he fail of a glad +welcome, because of the gifts he offered. In the dirtiest rooms, the +most hardened of the women, the roughest and rudest of the children, +seemed to become momentarily gentle and tender when the flowers were +laid in their hands.</p> + +<p>When all had been given away except one rose, Theodore paused and +considered. There were several rooms that he had not visited. To +which of these should he carry this last rose?</p> + +<p>Not to Old Man Schneider surely. He was standing at the moment outside +Old Man Schneider's door. The old man was the terror of all the +children in the house, so ugly and profane was he, and so hideous to +look at. Fearless as Theodore was--the sight of Old Man Schneider +always made him shudder, and the boy had never yet spoken to him.</p> + +<p>While he stood there trying to decide who should have the rose, he +heard a deep, hollow groan, and surely it came from the room of Old +Man Schneider. Theodore stood still and listened. There came another +groan and another, and then he knocked on the door. There was no +response and he opened it and went in. He had been in many dirty, +dismal rooms, but never in one so dirty and so dismal as this. It +looked as if it never had been clean. The only furniture was a +tumble-down bed in one corner, a chair and a broken stove. On the bed, +the old man was lying, covered with rags. He fixed his sunken eyes on +the boy and roughly demanded what he wanted, but even as he spoke he +groaned again.</p> + +<p>"You are sick--can't I do something for you?" asked the boy.</p> + +<p>The old man gazed at him for a moment, then he broke into a torrent of +angry words, ending with,</p> + +<p>"Get out o' my sight. I hate boys. I hate everybody an' everything."</p> + +<p>Theodore stood still. The rose in his hand looked strangely out of +place in that squalid room--but--beautifully out of place, for it +seemed to shed light and color as well as perfume through the close, +unhealthy atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"Clear out, I say. Why don't ye go?" The old man tried to shake a +threatening fist, but his arm dropped weakly, and in spite of himself +he moaned with pain.</p> + +<p>"Can't I bring a doctor or somebody to help you?" the boy asked +gently.</p> + +<p>"Ain't nobody ter help me. Don't I tell ye I hate everybody?" was the +fierce reply.</p> + +<p>Theodore gazed about him. There seemed nothing that he could do. He +hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and laid the beautiful +rose against the dark, knotted fingers on the ragged bed-covering, and +then he went away, closing the door behind him. Stopping only to put +his basket into his room and lock the door, he hurried off to the +dispensary and asked that a doctor be sent to Old Man Schneider as +soon as possible. He waited until the doctor was at liberty and then +returned with him. There was no response to their knock, and again +Theodore opened the door and went in, the doctor following.</p> + +<p>The old man did not move or look up even when the doctor spoke to +him. He lay as Theo had last seen him only that his fingers were +closed tightly over the stem of the rose, and one crimson petal lay on +the pillow close to the sunken cheek. The old man was dead--but who +could tell what thoughts of other days--of sinless days long past, +perhaps--may have been awakened in his heart by that fragrant, +beautiful bit of God's handiwork?</p> + +<p>As Theodore went quietly up the stairs, he was glad that he had not +passed by Old Man Schneider's door.</p> + + + +<a name="09"></a> +<h1>IX. Theo in Trouble</h1> + +<p>Theo went regularly now to the mission school on Sunday afternoons, +and Mr. Scott had become much interested in him.</p> + +<p>One day Mr. Scott pleased Theo immensely by going to the boy's stand +and getting his lunch there, and not long after he went one evening to +the boy's room. He found the place dark and the door locked, but as he +was turning away, Theo came running up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he cried out, in a tone of pleased surprise, as he saw his +teacher. "Wait a minute an' I'll get a light."</p> + +<p>Having lighted his lamp, the boy sat down on the cot, giving the +broken stool to his visitor. Mr. Scott's heart was full of sympathy +as he glanced around the forlorn little room and remembered that it +was all the home that the boy had.</p> + +<p>"Theodore," he said, after talking a while, "what do you do evenings?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sometimes I stay in Nan's room, an' sometimes I drop in an' talk +to Tommy O'Brien or some of the other sick ones in the house, an' +sometimes I go somewheres outside. Saturday nights I help at a flower +stand."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go to an evening school? I think that would be the best +place for you to spend your evenings," said Mr. Scott.</p> + +<p>This was a new idea to the boy. He thought it over in silence.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott went on, "It's not your fault, Theodore, that you have had +no schooling, thus far, but now, you can go to an evening school and +it will be your fault if you grow up ignorant. You will be able to do +far more and better work in the world, with an education, than without +one. The more you know yourself the better you can help others, you +see."</p> + +<p>"Yes," sighed the boy. "I guess that's so, but I 'spect I'll find it +tough work learning."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. It will be rather hard at first, because +you're not used to studying; but I think you are bright enough to go +ahead pretty fast when you once get a good start. Now who is this +girl, that I've heard you mention several times--Nan is her name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Nan. Come on, I want you to see her an' our baby," replied +the boy, eagerly.</p> + +<p>Somewhat uncertain as to what kind of a girl this might be, yet +anxious to know as much as possible about Theo's associates and +surroundings, Mr. Scott followed the boy down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Nan, here's my teacher, Mr. Scott, come to see the baby," Theodore +exclaimed, as he unceremoniously pushed open the door and ushered in +the visitor.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott was more taken aback than was Nan, at this abrupt +introduction. The girl coloured a little, but quietly arose and shook +hands with the gentleman, while Theo exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Good! Little Brother ain't asleep yet. This is our baby, +Mr. Scott. Ain't he a daisy? Take him."</p> + +<p>Now, Mr. Scott was a young man and totally unused to "taking" babies, +but the boy had lifted the little one from the bed and was holding him +out to his teacher with such a happy face that the young man felt that +it would never do to disappoint him. So he received the baby gingerly +in both hands and set him on his knee, but he did not know what to say +or do to amuse the child, and it was an immense relief to him when +Little Brother held out his hands to Theo, and the boy took him again +saying,</p> + +<p>"Ye don't know him yet, do ye, Little Brother? You will though, by +'n' by," wherein Theo was more of a prophet than he imagined.</p> + +<p>Relieved of the child, Mr. Scott turned to Nan and the colour rose in +his face as he saw a gleam of amusement in the girl's dark eyes, but +Theo's ready tongue filled up the momentary pause, and soon all three +were chatting like old friends, and when Mr. Scott took his departure, +it was with the conviction that his new scholar was fortunate in +having Nan for a friend. At the same time he realised that this great +tenement with its mixed community was a most unsuitable place for a +girl like Nan, and determined that she should be gotten into better +surroundings as soon as it could be accomplished.</p> + +<p>His interest in Theodore was deepened by this visit to his room and +friends. He felt that there was something unusual in the boy, and +determined to keep watch of him and give him any needed help.</p> + +<p>It was November now and the night was chilly. As Mr. Scott left the +tenement house he buttoned his thick overcoat about him, and shivered +as he thought of Theodore's bare cot, with not a pillow or a blanket +even.</p> + +<p>"Not a single bit of bedding," he said, to himself, "and no fire! That +will never do, in weather like this."</p> + +<p>The next day he mentioned the case to the aunt with whom he lived, +with the result that a couple of pillows and a warm comforter were +sent before night to Nan's room, addressed to Theodore Bryan, and for +the remainder of the winter the boy at least did not suffer from cold + +at night.</p> + +<p>Theodore grew to like his teacher much as the weeks passed, and often +after Sunday-school the two walked home together. Some of the boys +that had been longer in the class rather resented this friendship, the +more so as Theo was by no means popular among them just at this time.</p> + +<p>"He's gettin' too good, Tode Bryan is," one of them said, one +Sunday. "He walked home with teacher last week, an' now he's a doin' +it again." He glanced gloomily after the two, as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'd like ter punch his head; that's what I'd like to do," put in +another. "He pitched inter me for swearin' t'other day."</p> + +<p>"He's a fine one to talk 'bout swearin'," added a third. "I've heard +him goin' it hot an' heavy many a time."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, but he's settin' up fer a saint now, ye know," said Dick +Hunt, scornfully. "I owe him a lickin,' an' he'll get it too 'fore +he's many days older."</p> + +<p>"What for, Dicky?" questioned another.</p> + +<p>"What for? For blabbin' to my daddy an' sendin' him to Todd's after +me, the night he come sneakin' in there himself," cried Dick. "I've +been layin' for him ever since, an' I'll give it to him good, first +chance I get."</p> + +<p>"He goes to night school now," remarked one.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he's puttin' on airs all 'round," returned Dick. "I'll night +school him!" he added, vengefully.</p> + +<p>It was not long before Dick found an opportunity to execute his +threats of vengeance. He was loafing on a street corner, with Carrots +and two other boys, one night, when Theodore passed them on his way +home from school. He nodded to them as he went by, but did not +stop. Dick's eyes followed him with a threatening glance until he saw +him turn through a narrow street. Then Dick held a brief conference +with Carrots and the other two, and all four set off hastily in the +direction that Theodore had taken.</p> + +<p>He, meantime, went on whistling cheerily and thinking pleasant +thoughts, for he was beginning to get on at the school, and better +yet, he had in his pocket at that moment, a five-dollar bill that +meant a great deal to him.</p> + +<p>Ever since his return from the bishop's house, he had been working as +he never had worked before, neglecting no opportunity to earn even a +nickel, and every penny that he could possibly spare he had given to +Nan to keep for him. He had been perfectly frank with her, and she +knew that as soon as he had saved up thirty-seven dollars he meant to +carry it to the bishop for Mrs. Russell, and tell him the whole +story. First, to stop all his wrongdoing and then as far as possible, +to make up to those he had wronged--these were Theodore's firm +purposes now, but he felt that he could never bear to face the bishop +again until he could take with him the proof of his genuine +repentance.</p> + +<p>Many and many a time in these past weeks, had the boy planned with Nan +how he would go to the house and what he would say to the bishop, and +what he hoped the bishop would say to him, and Nan had rejoiced almost +as much as the boy himself as, week by week, the sum in her hands grew +toward the desired amount. Even Nan did not know all the hard work +and stern self-denial that had made it possible for Theodore to put by +that money out of his small earnings.</p> + +<p>The five in his pocket on this evening would complete the entire sum +and the very next day he meant to carry it to the bishop. The mere +thought of seeing again the face that was to him like no other face in +all the world--filled the boy's heart with a deep, sweet delight. He +was thinking of it as he hurried along through a short, dark alley, +where were only two or three stables and one empty house.</p> + +<p>Quick, stealthy footsteps followed him, but he paid no heed to them +until a heavy blow on the back of his head made him suddenly turn and +face four dark figures that were close at his heels. + + +"Who are you? What ye hittin' me for?" he demanded, angrily.</p> + +<p>There was no response, but Dick struck at him again. This time, +however, Theodore was on his guard, and he caught Dick's arm and gave +it a twist that made its owner cry out.</p> + +<p>"Oh ho, it's you, Dick Hunt. I might a' known nobody else would sneak +up on a feller this way. Well, now, what are ye after?"</p> + +<p>"I'm after givin' you the worst lickin' ever you had," muttered Dick, +trying in vain to free his arm from Theo's strong grip.</p> + +<p>"What for?" demanded Theodore.</p> + +<p>"For sneakin' into Todd's and then runnin' to tell my father where I +was. That's one thing, but there's plenty more't I'm goin' to settle +with you for, to-night," shouted Dick, as he pounded with his left +hand, and kicked viciously at the other's shins.</p> + +<p>"I never spoke to your father that night," Theo declared, but Dick +responded, scornfully,</p> + +<p>"Tell that to a greenhorn! Pitch into him, boys. He won't let go o' +me."</p> + +<p>Seeing the others start toward him, Theo flung Dick's arm aside, and +bracing himself against a vacant house just behind him, faced them all +in dogged silence. They hesitated for a moment, but Dick cried out +again,</p> + +<p>"Come on, boys!" and the four flung themselves upon Theo, striking, +pounding and kicking all together. He defended himself as best he +could, but the odds were too great. It was only when the boy slipped +to the ground in a limp, motionless heap, that his assailants drew +off, and looked uneasily at one another in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"What'll we do now?" whispered Carrots.</p> + +<p>"Cut it--somebody's comin'!" cried Dick, in a low tone, and thereupon +they took to their heels, leaving Theo as he had fallen on the ground.</p> + +<p>The boys stopped running as soon as they reached a lighted street +where the passers-by might notice them; but they walked on rapidly and +discussed the affair in low, guarded tones.</p> + +<p>"You don't think he's done for, do ye, Dick?" questioned Carrots, +uneasily.</p> + +<p>Dick tried to laugh carelessly, but the effort was a failure. He was +beginning to be anxious as to the result, though he was not ready to +admit it.</p> + +<p>"Done for? Not much!" he answered, promptly. "More like he was +shammin', an' wasn't hurt half so much as he'd ought ter be."</p> + +<p>"But if 'tain't so-if he's hurt bad, he may have us up for 'sault an' +batt'ry," remarked another.</p> + +<p>"Dick's the only one he could go for, 'cause 'twas so dark, he +couldn't spot the rest of us," put in Carrots, hastily.</p> + +<p>"Ye needn't try to sneak out o' it that way," cried Dick, sharply. "If +I get took up, you'll be, too."</p> + +<p>"D'ye mean't you'd give us away after gettin' us into it, jest ter +help you out?" demanded the other, in a threatening tone.</p> + +<p>"If he does, we'll make it hot fer <i>him</i>" put in another, as Dick +answered, doubtfully,</p> + +<p>"Wal if he should make a fuss 'bout it, I can't take all the blame, +can I? I didn't do all the whackin'."</p> + +<p>"Well, I say, boys, he's a nice one, Dick Hunt is! After gettin' us to +help him lick a feller 'cause he darsent do it alone, he talks of +gettin' us took up for it," exclaimed the last speaker; "but see here, +you," he added to Dick, "Bryan knew you an' he didn't know any the +rest of us, an' I tell ye what--if you get inter trouble 'bout this +job, you lug us into it 'f ye dare! I'll swear 't Carrots an' Jo here +were down t' my place with me, 'n' they'll swear to it too; hey, +boys?"</p> + +<p>"We will so!"</p> + +<p>"We'll do that ev'ry time!" they answered in one voice; and then with +a few cutting words the three turned off together, leaving Dick to +pursue his way alone.</p> + +<p>And miserable enough Dick was as he walked on alone. He was not in the +least sorry for what had been done to Theodore, but he was afraid of +the consequences. He turned sick with dread as he remembered how the +boy's body had slipped in a limp heap to the ground and lain there +motionless.</p> + +<p>Suppose they had killed him? It would be murder. Somebody would have +to answer for it and that somebody would be he--Dick Hunt. The cold +perspiration started on his forehead and his heart throbbed heavily at +the thought, and he felt a wild desire to run on and on till he had +left that dark heap in the dark alley, miles and miles behind him.</p> + +<p>Then came a flash of hope. Perhaps after all Tode was not so badly +hurt. Perhaps he had been shamming just to scare them. At this +thought, Dick's quick pace slackened and he had half a mind to go back +and see if the body still lay there, but he could not bring himself to +do that. He shivered and hurried on aimlessly, through the brightly +lighted streets. He was afraid to go home, lest he be met there by the +news that he dreaded. He was afraid to stay in the streets, for every +moment he expected to feel the heavy hand of a policeman on his +shoulder. He said to himself that Carrots and the others might inform +against him just to save themselves.</p> + +<p>So, as wretched as a boy well could be, he wandered about for an hour +or two, stopping sometimes in dark corners and then hastening on +again, stealing suspicious glances over his shoulders, and listening +for pursuing footsteps. At last, he turned homeward, longing, yet +dreading, to see his mother.</p> + +<p>It was nearly midnight when he crept softly up the stairs, but his +mother had been unable to sleep, and as his hand touched the door in +the darkness, she threw it open with a sigh of relief that her weary +waiting was over for that night. She did not find fault with him. It +seemed to her utterly useless now to complain or entreat.</p> + +<p>Dick longed to ask if she knew anything about Tode, but his tongue +refused to utter the words and he tumbled into bed in gloomy silence.</p> + +<p>There had been no shamming when Theo fell under the brutal blows of +the four boys who had set upon him. They were all strong, well-grown +lads, and striking blindly and viciously in the dark, had perhaps hit +harder than they realised. At any rate Theo had felt his strength +failing even before a last blow on his head made him unconscious of +what followed.</p> + +<p>The "somebody," whom the boys had heard, came slouching along through +the dark alley and stumbled over the prostrate body.</p> + +<p>"Hello! What's this?" he exclaimed, his nimble fingers running rapidly +over the boy's face and figure. "Somebody's been up to something +here. Let's see if--no! Well, that's queer!"</p> + +<p>These disconnected remarks were the accompaniment to a rapid and +skillful search through the boy's pockets, and the last emphatic +expression was drawn forth by the discovery that there had been no +robbery; whereupon the newcomer promptly proceeded to complete the job +by emptying the said pockets in a manner that proved him no novice at +such business. Then he stole noiselessly away, leaving the boy again +alone in the darkness, and now there was no good bishop at hand to +take him in.</p> + +<p>Meantime, at home, Nan was wondering why Theo did not come in as usual +to tell her what he had been doing at the night school, and to get +Tag, who always staid with her when Theo was at the school. Tag was +troubled and uneasy too. When it was time for the boy to come Tag sat +watching the door, his ears alert for a footstep outside. Now and then +he whined, and finally he showed so plainly his desire to go out that +Nan opened the door, saying,</p> + +<p>"Go find him, Tag."</p> + +<p>She stood in her doorway listening, and heard the dog scamper up to +Theo's door. There he listened and nosed about for a moment, then down +he came again, and with a short, anxious bark, dashed down the stairs +to the street. Nan waited a long time but the dog did not return, and +at last she put out her light and went to bed with a troubled heart.</p> + +<p>But Tag could not sleep. He seemed to know that there was something +wrong and something for him to attend to. He raced first to his +master's stand, then to the mission school and to the night school, +and finding all these places now dark and silent, he pattered through +the streets, his nose close to the ground, his anxious, loving eyes +watching everything that moved. So at last he came to that dark heap +in the dark alley, and first he was wild with joy, but when his +frantic delight failed to awaken his master and make him come away +home, Tag was sure that something was very wrong indeed and he began +to run backward and forward between the motionless body and the +corner, until he attracted the attention of a policeman who followed +him around into the dark alley, and in a few minutes Theodore was on +his way to the Emergency Hospital with Tag following after the +ambulance at the top of his speed. But once again Tag found himself +rudely repulsed when he tried to slip in after his master. This time +he felt that he really could not bear it, and so he stood on the +hospital steps and lifting up his voice howled his protest until +somebody came and drove him away. But he couldn't stay away, so he +crawled into a dark corner up against the wall, and curling himself +into the smallest possible space, lay there watchful and wretched +until morning, when, after eyeing wistfully those who came out and +went in past him, he trotted slowly home to Nan, and did his poor best +to tell her what had happened and where Theo was.</p> + +<p>Nan had passed an anxious night, for she was sure that there was +something wrong, and since Theo's return from the bishop's, he had +been so changed, that she had grown very fond of him. Being a year or +two his senior, she felt a kind of elder sisterly responsibility in +regard to him, knowing as she did, that he was even more alone in the +world than she, for she had Little Brother, and Theo had nobody at +all.</p> + +<p>So she was at Mrs. Hunt's door, talking the matter over with her, when +Tag, with drooping head and tail, came slowly up the stairs. He wagged +his tail faintly at sight of Nan, and rubbed his head affectionately +against her, and then stood looking up at her, as if waiting to be +questioned.</p> + +<p>"He's been gone all night," Nan was saying to Mrs. Hunt, and referring +to the dog, "but I don't believe he found Theo. He doesn't act as if +he had. Oh, Mrs. Hunt, where <i>do</i> you suppose he is?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt shook her head. "The dear knows," she said, "but something +must 'a' happened to him, sure. He's been steady as clockwork since +ever he took that room upstairs, I'll say that for him." She sighed as +she spoke, thinking of her Dick.</p> + +<p>"But what can I do, Mrs. Hunt?" cried Nan, her eyes full of tears. "It +seems dreadful to keep right on, just as if he were here, as +usual. Isn't there any way to find out where he is?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Nan," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where his teacher--that Mr. Scott--lives?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, why don't you send word to him? He seems to think a lot of Tode +an' Dick. I guess he does of all his scholars. He would know what to +do, an' where to look for the boy--don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>Nan's face had brightened as her friend spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure that's a good idea," she replied. "He's always been so nice +and kind to Theo. I most know he'll help find him."</p> + +<p>"That's right now, child, stop fretting, for I'll warrant he'll set +things straight in no time. I'll let Dick or Jimmy go around to +Mr. Scott's as soon as they've had their breakfast."</p> + +<p>Relieved by this promise, and trying hard to be hopeful and not to +worry, Nan ran back to her room, while Mrs. Hunt called the boys.</p> + +<p>Dick pretended to be very sound asleep, and it required more than one +call and shake to arouse him, but in reality, he too had passed a most +miserable night, and he had listened, with heart beating fast and +hard, to his mother's colloquy with Nan; and as he listened, ever +before his mind's eye was that dark, motionless heap on the ground. In +imagination, he saw Theo's dead body on a slab in the morgue, and +himself in a prison cell, condemned for murder. Dick's worst enemy +could not have wished him to be any more wretched than he was in that +hour, as he cowered in his bed, and strained his ears to catch every +word that was uttered. But when his mother shook him, he rubbed his +eyes, and pretended to be still half asleep, and flatly refused to go +to Mr. Scott's.</p> + +<p>"Let Jim go, 'f anybody's got to," he growled, as he began to pull on +his clothes. "Here you, Jim, turn out lively now!" he added, yanking +the bedclothes off his brother to emphasise his words.</p> + +<p>"He's always a-puttin' off on me--Dick is," snarled Jim, as he joined +his mother in the other room a few minutes later, but when he learned +why he was to go to Mr. Scott's he made no further objections, but +swallowed his breakfast hastily, and went off on the run. Jim did not +share his brother's enmity toward the missing boy. Jim liked Theo. He +liked Nan too, and was always ready to do an errand for her, if she +wanted him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott was just sitting down to breakfast when Jim appeared, and he +left his coffee to cool while he listened with keen interest to what +the boy had to tell him. His face was very grave as he said,</p> + +<p>"Tell Miss Nan that I will be around there within an hour. See here, +though, Jim,--have you had your breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Ye--yes, sir," Jim answered, with a quick glance at the hot cakes and +chops that had such an appetising odour. Jim didn't have chops and hot +cakes for breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Mary, can you put another plate here for Jim?" Mr. Scott asked, +and his aunt, with a smile, set another chair at the table, and piled +a plate with eatables, of which the boy disposed as easily and +speedily as if that had been his first meal that day.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott likewise made a hasty breakfast, and then he sent Jim back +to Nan, while he himself went to his place of business to arrange for +his absence that morning.</p> + +<p>Within the hour, as he had said, he knocked at Nan's door. She +welcomed him with a feeling of glad relief, assured that at least he +would be able to find out where Theo was. He waited only to get what +little information she could give him, and then set forth, but before +he had reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs, Nan ran after +him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Scott," she called. "Wouldn't it be a good plan to take +Tag--Theo's dog--with you?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott thought it would, but now an unexpected obstacle was +encountered. Tag refused to go with him. He crept under Nan's dress, +and crouched there, looking quietly out at the gentleman, but making +no movement toward him, though he called and whistled as persuasively +as he could.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tag, do go," pleaded Nan, almost ready to cry at the dog's +unexpected obstinacy.</p> + +<p>Tag twisted his head and looked up at her, and it almost seemed as if +he were moved by her pleading tone, for, after a moment's hesitation, +he crept slowly out from his refuge, and followed Mr. Scott down the +stairs. Once outside the house he stopped and gazed with keen, +questioning eyes at the gentleman, standing, meanwhile, ready to dart +off, should any attempt be made to capture him, but Mr. Scott stopped +too, and said quietly,</p> + +<p>"Go find him, Tag. Find Theo."</p> + +<p>That was enough for the intelligent little creature. With a quick, +sharp yelp of satisfaction, Tag set off at such a pace that Mr. Scott +had hard work to keep him in sight. In fact, as soon as they turned +into a thronged business street, he lost sight of his four-footed +guide entirely, but the direction Tag had taken was a sufficient clue. +The young man was so certain that the Emergency Hospital was the place +to which the dog was leading him, that he boarded a car and went +directly there, and sure enough on the steps sat Tag, his short ears +erect, and his eager eyes watching impatiently for a chance to slip +inside the doors.</p> + +<p>He seemed to know that his chance had come when he saw Mr. Scott +running up the steps, for he frisked about and showed his delight in +every conceivable fashion. Dogs were not allowed in the hospital, but +when Mr. Scott picked Tag up in his arms and promised to keep him +there, the attendant finally consented that he should do so. And so +they went first to the waiting-room and then up the stairs and through +the long corridors.</p> + + + +<a name="10"></a> +<h1>X. A Bitter Disappointment</h1> + +<p>Theodore was still unconscious when he was lifted into the ambulance +the night before, but on the way to the hospital he opened his eyes, +wondering much to find himself flat on his back and being driven +rapidly through the streets. In a few minutes he remembered what had +happened, and guessed that he must have been stunned by a blow or a +fall. As he reached this conclusion, the vehicle stopped, and he was +lifted out and carried into the hospital in spite of his protests. He +had a dread of entering a hospital as a patient, and he wanted to go +home.</p> + +<p>But the doctors would not allow him to go home. They told him that if +he would be quiet and do as they said, he would probably be able to go +home the next morning, and with this promise he was obliged to be +content, and allow himself to be undressed and put to bed. He was +badly bruised and his right shoulder was very lame, but there was no +serious injury, and it seemed to the boy very trying to be compelled +to spend the night where he was. He did not sleep much, partly because +of his strange surroundings, and partly because of his aching head and +shoulder, and as he lay there in the dimly-lighted ward, his thoughts +were busy.</p> + +<p>A hot anger burned in his heart as he recalled the cowardly attack in +the dark alley. He saw that it had been deliberately planned by Dick +Hunt, and that the four boys must have followed him from the corner +where he saw them.</p> + +<p>"I'll pay that Dick Hunt for this," he muttered under his breath, "an' +Carrots, too. I know the chap that hit so hard was Carrots. I'll make +'em suffer for it!"</p> + +<p>He lay there, his eyes flashing and his cheeks burning, as he thought +over various schemes of vengeance. Then suddenly he thought of Mr. +Scott, and that brought something else to his remembrance. He seemed +to see his teacher holding out his little Bible and making +him--Theodore--read aloud those two verses:</p> + +<p>"Dearly beloved avenge not yourselves."</p> + +<p>And "Recompense to no man evil for evil."</p> + +<p>As he repeated these words to himself, the fire died slowly out of the +boy's eyes and the angry colour faded from his cheeks. He turned +restlessly in his bed and tried to banish these thoughts and bring +back his schemes of vengeance, but he could not do it. He knew what +was the right--what he ought to do--but he was not willing to do it. +Hour after hour he argued the matter with himself, finding all sorts +of reasons why, in this case, he might take vengeance into his own +hands and "learn that Dick Hunt a lesson," yet feeling and knowing in +the depths of his heart that whatever the old Tode Bryan might have +done, Theodore Bryan, who was trying to be the bishop's shadow, +certainly had no right to do evil to somebody else simply because that +somebody had done evil to him.</p> + +<p>It was nearly morning before the long battle with himself was over, +but it ended at last, and it was Theodore, and not Tode who was +victorious, and it was the memory of the bishop's face, and of the +bishop's prayer that day in the poorhouse, that finally settled the +matter.</p> + +<p>"He'd fight for somebody else, the bishop would, but he wouldn't ever +fight for himself, an' I mustn't neither," the boy murmured, softly, +and then with a long breath he turned his face to the wall and fell +asleep, and he had but just awakened from that sleep when Mr. Scott, +with Tag under his arm, came through the long corridor to the ward +where Theodore was lying in the very last cot, next the wall.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott had promised not to let the dog out of his arms, but if he +had been better acquainted with Tag he would never have made such a +rash promise. As the gentleman followed the nurse into the ward, the +dog's eyes flashed a swift glance over the long line of cots, and the +next instant something dark went flying down the room and up on to +that last cot in the row, and there was Tag licking his master's face +and hands, and wagging his tail, and barking like mad.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" exclaimed the nurse, running toward the corner. "This will +never do. He'll drive the patients into fits! Why didn't you keep hold +of him?"</p> + +<p>She threw the question back in a reproachful tone to Mr. Scott.</p> + +<p>He laughed a little as he answered, "If you will try to pick him up +now and hold him, you will understand why."</p> + +<p>Even as he spoke, the nurse was making an attempt to capture and +silence the noisy little fellow. She might as well have tried to pick +up a ball of quicksilver. Tag slipped through her fingers like an eel, +scurrying from one end of the cot to the other, and barking excitedly +all the time.</p> + +<p>"Can't you stop him, Theodore?" exclaimed Mr. Scott, as he reached the +corner where the boy lay.</p> + +<p>"Here, Tag, lie down and be still," cried the boy, and with one last +defiant yap at the nurse, Tag nosed aside the bedclothes and snuggled +down beside his master with a sigh of glad content.</p> + +<p>"Well, if ever I let a dog into <i>my</i> ward again!" exclaimed the +nurse, in a tone of stern determination.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry he made such a noise, ma'am. It was only because he was so +glad to find me," said Theodore, quickly.</p> + +<p>The nurse turned away in offended silence, and Mr. Scott sat down by +the bed and began to talk with the boy.</p> + +<p>He listened with a grave face to Theo's story. When it was ended, he +asked, "Did you recognise either of the boys?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; one, certainly, and I think I know one of the others."</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the teacher, inquiringly.</p> + +<p>Theodore hesitated a moment, then answered in a low tone, "You 'member +them verses you showed me that first Sunday, Mr. Scott?"</p> + +<p>The gentleman smiled down into the sober, boyish face. "I remember," +he replied, "but, Theo, this is a grave matter. To beat a boy until he +is unconscious, and then leave him to live or die, is a crime. Such +boys ought not to be shielded."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Scott, I had an awful time over that last night," answered the +boy, earnestly. "I wanted to pay them fellers for this job--you better +b'lieve I did, but," he shook his head slowly, "I can't do it. You +see, sir, I ain't Tode no more--I'm Theodore, now."</p> + +<p>There was a look on the homely, boyish face that forbade further +discussion of the matter, and, after a moment's silence, Mr. Scott +said in a different tone, "Well, my boy, when are you going home? Nan +and the baby want to see you."</p> + +<p>Theo glanced impatiently about the long room.</p> + +<p>"She said I'd got to stay in bed till the doctor had seen me," he +replied, "'n the doctor'll be here 'bout nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>"She" was the nurse.</p> + +<p>"It's nearly nine now. I'll wait until the doctor comes, then," +Mr. Scott said.</p> + +<p>The doctor pronounced the boy quite fit to leave the hospital, and his +clothes being brought to him, the curtains were drawn around his cot +and he dressed himself hastily. But as he pushed aside the curtains, +Mr. Scott saw a troubled look on his face, and asked:</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Theodore?"</p> + +<p>Without answering the boy crossed the room to the nurse.</p> + +<p>"Where's the money that was in my pocket?" he asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>The nurse looked at him sharply. "If there was any money in your +pockets when you were brought here it would be in them now," she +answered, shortly. "You can go to the office and ask any questions you +like."</p> + +<p>Theodore turned toward his teacher a very sorrowful face.</p> + +<p>"I've been robbed, too," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm sorry, Theodore. How much have you lost?"</p> + +<p>"Five dollars. She says to ask at the office, but 'twon't do no good, +I s'pose."</p> + +<p>"No, nothing would have been taken from your pockets here, but we will +stop at the office and see if we can learn anything," Mr. Scott said.</p> + +<p>Tag had kept close to his master's heels, and now at his teacher's +suggestion Theodore picked up the dog, who went forth quietly enough +in that fashion.</p> + +<p>Inquiries at the office convinced the boy that he had been robbed +before he was brought there, and naturally enough he came to the +conclusion that his money had gone into the pockets of Dick Hunt and +his companions.</p> + +<p>At the door of the tenement house Mr. Scott left Theo, who hurried +eagerly up the stairs. On the landing he met Jimmy Hunt, who called +out:</p> + +<p>"Hi--o, Tode, where ye been all night? Say, what was the matter? Did +Mr. Scott find ye?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," was Theo's only response, as he pushed open Nan's door, to be +greeted with such a warm welcome that he hardly knew what to say and +had to hide his embarrassment by poking the baby's ribs to make him +laugh. Jimmy Hunt had followed him into the room and listened with +open mouth as well as ears to the brief story that the boy told in +reply to Nan's questions.</p> + +<p>"Oh, 'twasn't much. I got knocked down an' carried to the hospital, +an' they wouldn't let me come away till morning--that's all."</p> + +<p>"An' wasn't ye hurt?" cried Jimmy, in a disappointed tone. It seemed +to him altogether too tame an affair if nobody was hurt.</p> + +<p>"My shoulder's sprained, an' my head was hurt a little," Theo +answered. "Say, Jim, where's Dick?"</p> + +<p>"I d'know. Out somewheres," replied Dick's brother, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Why ain't you in school, Jimmy?" was Theo's next question.</p> + +<p>"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Jimmy, in a tone of deep +disgust. "Ain't I been a-racin' all over town for you this mornin', +a-gettin' Mr. Scott to hunt ye up, an' goin' ter see 'f your stand's +open, an' carryin' things 'round fer Nan, too? How could I do all +that an' be in school, I'd like to know?"</p> + +<p>"'Deed, you couldn't, Jimmy," replied Nan, soothingly. "I don't know +what I should have done this morning without him, Theo. He was my +right hand man."</p> + +<p>Jimmy coloured with satisfaction at this high praise, and his delight +was complete when Theodore added,</p> + +<p>"That so? Well now, Jimmy boy, I ain't goin' to forget this."</p> + +<p>"Huh! Twarn't nothin'. I liked to do it," replied Jimmy, and then +overcome by a sudden and unaccountable fit of bashfulness he ran +hastily out of the room.</p> + +<p>Then Theodore told Nan the details of his adventure, but not even to +her would he tell the name of his enemy, and Nan did not guess, for +she would never have imagined that Mrs. Hunt's Dick could have served +Theo so.</p> + +<p>Dick had gone out as usual after breakfast and did not come home even +to get his supper, but of late his habits had been so irregular that +nothing was said at home about his absence.</p> + +<p>After supper Jimmy was sent out on an errand and Dick met him and +questioned him in regard to Theo's return, and what he had to say. +Jimmy waxed indignant over the story which he filled in from his own +imagination with many vivid details.</p> + +<p>"Some fellers pitched into him an' knocked him down an' beat him an' +left him for dead an' they took him t' the hospital an' kep' him there +all night. Guess them fellers'll suffer for it! They robbed him, +too. Took five dollars out o' his pockets."</p> + +<p>"They didn't neither!" exclaimed Dick, hastily, thrown off his guard +by this unexpected statement.</p> + +<p>"Come now, Dick Hunt, mebbe you know more'n I do about it," retorted +Jimmy, with withering sarcasm, little suspecting how much more his +brother <i>did</i> know. "Mebbe you heard what Nan said to ma 'bout +it."</p> + +<p>"No, no! 'Course I d'know nothin' 'bout it. How would I know?" +replied Dick, quickly and uneasily. "Say, Jimmy, is he--is Tode goin' +to have them fellers took up?"</p> + +<p>"'Spect he is--I would," answered Jimmy; then remembering his errand, +he ran off, leaving Dick looking after him with a haggard, miserable +face.</p> + +<p>"Robbed," Dick said to himself, as he walked moodily and aimlessly +on. "We didn't do that anyhow. Somebody must 'a' gone through his +pockets after we cleared out. Nice box I'm in now!"</p> + +<p>Dick did not go home at all that night. He was afraid that he might be +arrested if he did.</p> + +<p>"He knows 'twas me did it, an' he's keepin' dark 'bout it till they +can nab me," he thought.</p> + +<p>He hunted up the three boys who had been so ready to help him the +night before, but he found them now firmly banded together against +him. Moreover, they had spread such reports of him among their +companions, that Dick found himself shunned by them all. He dared not +go home, so he wandered about the streets, eating in out-of-the-way +places, and sleeping where he could. One day Carrots told him that +Tode Bryan was huntin' everywhere for him. Then Dick, in desperation, +made up his mind to go to sea--he could stand the strain no longer. He +dared not go home, even to bid his mother goodbye. Dick was selfish +and cruel, but he had even yet a little lingering tenderness for his +mother. It was not enough to make him behave himself and do what he +knew would please her, but it did make him wish that he could see her +just for a moment before going away. It was enough to make him creep +cautiously to the house after dark, and stand in the shadow, looking +up at her window, while he pictured to himself the neat, pleasant +room, where at that hour, she would be preparing supper. While he +stood there, Theo came out of the house, with Tag, as usual, at his +heels. Tag ran over to the dark corner and investigated Dick, but +cautiously, for there was no friendship between him and this member of +the Hunt family. Dick stood silent and motionless afraid that the dog +might bark and draw Theo over there, but he stood ready for flight +until Theo whistled and Tag ran back to him, and presently followed +him off in another direction. Then, with a breath of relief, Dick +stole off into the darkness, and the next day he left the city on a +vessel bound for South America, rejoicing that at last he was beyond +reach of Tode Bryan.</p> + +<p>Dick was not mistaken in thinking that Theo had been searching for +him, but he was greatly mistaken as to the boy's purpose in +it. Theodore was entirely ready now to obey that command that +Mr. Scott had shown him and to do his best to "overcome evil with +good." He took it for granted that Dick and the others had robbed as +well as beaten him, but all the same, he felt that he was bound to +forget all that and find some way to show them a kindness. But though +Theo was always on the lookout for him, Dick managed to keep out of +his sight while he remained in the city. After Dick had sailed, some +boy told Jimmy where his brother had gone, and so at last the news +reached Theodore.</p> + +<p>Since his return from the bishop's, Theo had had few idle moments, but +after losing the five dollars he worked early and late to make up the +loss. He grew more silent and thoughtful, and when alone his thoughts +dwelt almost continually on that happy day when he should look once +more into the bishop's kind face.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell him all about it," he would say to himself, "how I saw that +Mrs. Russell drop the pocketbook, an' how I slipped under the wagon +an' snatched it up out o' the mud, an' used the money. I'll tell it +all, an' ev'rything else bad that I can 'member, so he'll know jest +what a bad lot I've been, an' then I'll tell him how sorry I am, an' +how I'm a-huntin' ev'rywhere for that Jack Finney, an' how I'll keep +a-huntin' till I find him."</p> + +<p>All this and much more Theodore planned to tell the bishop, and, as he +thought about it, it seemed as if he could not wait another hour, so +intense was his longing to look once more into that face that was like +no other earthly face to him, to listen again to the voice that +thrilled his heart, and hear it say, "My boy, I forgive you." Many a +time he dreamt of this and started up from sleep with those words +ringing in his ears, "My boy, I forgive you," and then finding himself +alone in his dark, dismal little room, he would bury his wet cheeks in +the pillow and try to stifle the longing in his lonely, boyish heart.</p> + +<p>Even Nan, who knew him better than did any one else, never guessed how +his heart hungered to hear those words from the lips of the bishop.</p> + +<p>But little by little--in nickels and dimes and quarters--Theodore laid +by another five dollars. He knew to a penny how much there was, but +when he brought the last dime, he and Nan counted it all to make +sure. There was no mistake. It amounted to thirty-seven dollars and +twenty-five cents, and the boy drew a long, glad breath as he looked +up at Nan with shining eyes and flushed cheeks, saying,</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, Nan, I can see--<i>him!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Don't look so--so awfully glad, Theo. I'm afraid something will +happen," said Nan, with a troubled expression in her eyes as she +looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry. I ain't a-goin' to be robbed again--you better +believe I ain't!" cried the boy. Then he glanced at his worn suit and +tried to pull down his jacket sleeves, as he added, wistfully, "D'you +think I look well enough to go there, Nan? I wanted to buy a collar +an' necktie, but, I just <i>couldn't</i> wait any longer."</p> + +<p>Nan's private opinion was, that if the bishop could only see Theo's +face at that moment, the garments he wore would be a matter of small +importance. She answered, quickly,</p> + +<p>"You look plenty well enough, Theo. Don't worry about that."</p> + +<p>She gathered up the money and put it back into the box in which it had +been kept, and the boy went across the room to the bed where the baby +lay asleep.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me he looks kind o' peaked--don't he, Nan?" he remarked, +uneasily.</p> + +<p>Nan cast an anxious glance at the little, thin face, and shook her +head. "He doesn't get strong as I hoped he would," she answered, +sadly.</p> + +<p>"Oh well, he will, when it comes warmer, so he can get out doors +oftener," the boy said, as he went away to his room.</p> + +<p>He hurried through his work the next day, closing his stand at the +earliest possible moment, and rushing home to get ready for his +visit. He always, now, kept his face and hands scrupulously clean. His +hair might have been in better condition if he had had money to buy a +comb or a brush, but those were among the luxuries that he felt he +must deny himself until he had made all the restitution in his power.</p> + +<p>To-day, however, when he went to Nan's room for his money, she offered +him the use of her comb, and helped him reduce his rough, thick hair +to some kind of order. Even then he looked at himself somewhat +doubtfully. His suit was so shabby in spite of Nan's careful mending, +and his shoes were worse than his suit, but they were polished to the +last degree. He had exchanged a sandwich and two doughnuts for that +"shine."</p> + +<p>"You look well enough, Theo," Nan said, "plenty well enough. Now go +on, and oh, I do <i>hope</i> it will be all right."</p> + +<p>"I know 'twill," cried the boy, joyously, as he tucked the money +carefully into an inside pocket. "Oh, Nan!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her with such a happy face that her own beamed a bright +response. Then he ran off and Nan stood in the doorway watching him as +he went down the stairs, closely followed by his inseparable +companion, Tag.</p> + +<p>"The dear boy! He is fairly pale," said Nan, to herself, as she turned +back into her room. "It is strange how he loves that bishop--and what +a different boy he is, too, since he came home. I don't see how the +bishop can help loving him. Oh, I do hope nothing will happen to +spoil his visit. He has looked forward to it so long."</p> + +<p>The boy felt as if he were walking on air as he went rapidly through +the crowded streets, seeing nothing about him, so completely were his +thoughts occupied with the happiness before him. As he got farther up +town the crowd lessened, and when he turned into the street on which +the bishop lived, the passers-by were few.</p> + +<p>At last he could see the house. In a few minutes he would reach +it. Then his joyous anticipations suddenly vanished and he began to be +troubled.</p> + +<p>What if Brown wouldn't let him in, he thought, or--what if the bishop +should refuse to see him or to listen to his story?</p> + +<p>As these thoughts came to him his eager pace slackened and for a +moment he was tempted to turn back. Only for a moment, however. He +<i>knew</i> that the bishop would not refuse to see him, and as for +Brown, if Brown refused to admit him, he would go to the servants' +door and ask for Mrs. Martin.</p> + +<p>So thinking, he pushed open the iron gate and went slowly up the walk.</p> + +<p>"Stay here, Tag. Lie down, sir!" he ordered, and the dog obediently +dropped down on the steps, keeping his bright eyes fastened on his +master, as the boy rang the bell. Theo could almost hear his heart +beat as he waited. Suddenly the door swung open and there was Brown +gazing severely at him.</p> + +<p>"Well--what do <i>you</i> want?" questioned the man, brusquely.</p> + +<p>"I want--Don't you know me, Brown? I want to see--Mrs. Martin."</p> + +<p>The boy's voice was thick and husky, and somehow he could not utter +the bishop's name to Brown standing there with that cold frown on his +face.</p> + +<p>"Oh--you want to see Mrs. Martin, do you? Well, I think you've got +cheek to come here at all after leaving the way you did," Brown +growled. He held the door so that the boy could not enter, and seemed +more than half inclined to shut it in his face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, Brown, <i>do</i> let me in," pleaded the boy, with such a +heart-broken tone in his voice, that Brown relented--he wasn't half so +gruff as he pretended to be--and answered, grudgingly,</p> + +<p>"Well, come in, if you must, an' I'll find out if Mrs. Martin will see +you."</p> + +<p>With a sudden gleam of joy in his eyes, Theodore slipped in.</p> + +<p>"Come along!" Brown called over his shoulder, and the boy followed to +the housekeeper's sitting-room. The door of the room stood open, and +Mrs. Martin sat by the window with a newspaper in her hand. She +glanced up over her spectacles as Brown's tall figure appeared at the +door.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Martin, this boy says he wants to see you," he announced, and +then sauntered indifferently away to his own quarters.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin took off her glasses as she called, "Come in, boy, and +tell me what you want."</p> + +<p>Theo walked slowly toward her hoping that she would recognise him, but +she did not. Indeed it was a wonder that Brown had recognised him, so +different was his appearance in his rough worn clothes, from that of +the handsomely dressed lad, whose sudden departure had so grieved the + +kindhearted housekeeper.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know me, Mrs. Martin?" the boy faltered, sorrowfully, as he +paused beside her chair.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm sure I--why! You don't mean to say that you are our deaf and +dumb boy!" exclaimed the good woman, as she peered earnestly into the +grey eyes looking down so wistfully into hers.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm the bad boy you were so good to, but I've been keepin' +straight ever since I was here, Mrs. Martin," he answered, +earnestly. "I have, truly."</p> + +<p>"Bless your dear heart, child," cried the good woman, springing up +hastily and seizing the boy's hands. "I'm sure you have. I guess +<i>I</i> know a bad face when I see one, and it don't look like +yours. Sit down, dear, and tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>In the fewest possible words Theo told his story, making no attempt to +excuse anything. The housekeeper listened with keen interest, asking +a question now and then, and reading in his face the confirmation of +all he said. He did not say very much about the bishop, but the few +words that he did say and the look in his eyes as he said them, showed +her what a hold upon the boy's heart her master had so unconsciously +gained, and her own interest in the friendless lad grew deeper.</p> + +<p>When his story was told, she wiped her eyes as she said, slowly, "And +to think that you've been working all these weeks to save up that +money! Well, well, how glad the dear bishop will be! He's said all the +time that you were a good boy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, has he?" cried Theo, his face all alight with sudden joy. "I was + +afraid he'd think I was all bad when he found out how I'd cheated +him."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin. "He was grieved over your going off +so, and he has tried his best to find you, but you see he didn't know +where to look for you."</p> + +<p>"Did he try to find me, Mrs. Martin? Oh, I'm so glad! And can I see +him now, please?"</p> + +<p>The boy's voice trembled with eagerness as he spoke.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper's kind face was full of pity and sympathy as she +exclaimed, "Why, my boy, didn't you know? The bishop is in California. +He went a week ago to stay three months."</p> + +<p>All the glad brightness faded from the boy's face as he heard this. He +did not speak, but he turned aside, and brushed his sleeve hastily +across his eyes. Mrs. Martin laid her hand gently on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry," she said, "and he will be too, when he knows of your +coming. I will write him all about it."</p> + +<p>Still the boy stood silent. It seemed to him that he could not bear +it. It had not once occurred to him that the bishop might be away, and +now there was no possibility of seeing him for three long months. It +seemed an eternity to the boy. And to think that he was there--at +home--a week ago!</p> + +<p>"If they hadn't stole that five dollars from me, I might 'a' seen him +last week," the boy said to himself, bitter thoughts of Dick Hunt +rising in his heart. At last he turned again to the housekeeper and at +the change in his face her eyes filled with quick tears.</p> + +<p>He took from his pocket the little roll of money and held it out, +saying in a low unsteady voice, "You send it to him--an' tell +him--won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll write him all about it," the housekeeper repeated, "and don't +you be discouraged, dear. He'll want to see you just as soon as he +gets home, I know he will. Tell me where you live, so I can send you +word when he comes."</p> + +<p>In a dull, listless voice the boy gave the street and number, and she +wrote the address on a slip of paper.</p> + +<p>"Remember, Theodore, I shall write the bishop all you have told me, +and how you are trying to find the Finney boy and to help others just +as he does," said the good woman, knowing instinctively that this +would comfort the boy in his bitter disappointment.</p> + +<p>He brightened a little at her words but he only said, briefly,</p> + +<p>"Yes--tell him that," and then he went sorrowfully away.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin stood at the window and looked after him as he went slowly +down the street, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground, +while Tag, well aware that something was wrong, trotted beside him +with drooping ears and tail.</p> + +<p>"Tell me that that's a bad boy!" the good woman said to herself. "I +know better! I don't care what that Mr. Gibson said. I never took much +stock in Mr. Gibson myself, anyhow. He always had something to say +against anybody that the bishop took an interest in. There--I wish I'd +told Theodore that he was here only as a substitute, and had to leave +when the regular secretary was well enough to come back. I declare my +heart aches when I think of that poor little fellow's face when I told +him that the bishop was gone. Ah well, this is a world of +disappointment!" and with a sigh she turned away from the window.</p> + +<p>Nan sat in a rocking-chair with Little Brother in her arms, when +Theodore opened her door.</p> + +<p>"Oh Theo--what is it? What is the matter?" she cried, as she saw his +face.</p> + +<p>He dropped wearily into a seat and told her in a few words the result +of his visit.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so sorry!" she exclaimed. "And it seems so hard to think +that you would have seen the bishop if you hadn't lost that five +dollars!"</p> + +<p>The boy sighed, but made no reply. He could not talk about it then, +and presently he got up and went out.</p> + + + +<a name="11"></a> +<h1>XI. Theo's New Business</h1> + +<p>Theodore went slowly down the stairs, but stopped on the outside steps +and stood there with his hands in his pockets looking listlessly up +and down the street. There was another big tenement house opposite, +and on its steps sat a girl of ten or eleven with a baby in her +lap. The baby kept up a low wailing cry, but the girl paid no +attention to it. She sat with her head leaning against the house, and +seemed to notice nothing about her.</p> + +<p>Theodore glanced at her indifferently. His thoughts were still +dwelling on his great disappointment--the sorrowful ending of the +hopes and longings of so many weeks. It seemed to him that he had now +nothing to which to look forward; nothing that was worth working for. +Then suddenly there flashed into his mind the words he had heard the +bishop speak to a man who came to him one day in great sorrow.</p> + +<p>"My life is spoiled," the man had said. "All my hopes and plans are +destroyed. What shall I do?"</p> + +<p>And the bishop had answered, "My son, you must forget yourself, and +your broken hopes and plans, and think of others. Do something for +somebody else--and keep on doing."</p> + +<p>"That's what he would say to me, I s'pose," thought the boy. "I wonder +what I can do. There's Tommy O'Brien, I 'spect he'd be glad 'nough to +see most anybody."</p> + +<p>He turned and went slowly and reluctantly back up the stairs. He +didn't want to see Tommy O'Brien. He didn't want to see anybody just +then, but still he went on to Tommy's door. As he approached it, he +heard loud, angry voices mingled with the crying of a baby. He +knocked, but the noise within continued, and after a moment's pause he +pushed open the door and went in.</p> + +<p>The three women who lived in the room were all standing with red, +angry faces, each trying to outscold the others. Three or four little +children, with frightened eyes, were huddled together in one corner, +while a baby cried unheeded on the floor, its mother being too much +occupied with the quarrel to pay any attention to her child. The +women glanced indifferently at Theodore as he entered, and kept on +with their loud talk. Theo crossed over to Tommy's cot. The sick boy +had pulled his pillow over his head and was pressing it close to his +ears to shut out the racket.</p> + +<p>"Le'me 'lone!" he exclaimed, as Theodore tried to lift the pillow. His +face was drawn with pain and there were dark hollows beneath his heavy +eyes. Such a weary, suffering face it was that a great flood of pity +surged over Theodore's heart at sight of it. Then Tommy opened his +eyes and as he saw who had pulled aside his pillow a faint smile crept +around his pale lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he cried. "It's you. I thought 'twas some o' them a-pullin' off +my piller. Can't you make 'em stop, Tode? They've been a-fightin' off +an' on all day." He glanced at the noisy women as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"What's the row about?" asked Theo.</p> + +<p>"'Cause Mis' Carey said Mis' Green's baby was cross-eyed. Mis' Green +got so mad at that that she's been scoldin' 'bout it ever since an' +leavin' the baby to yell there by itself on the floor--poor little +beggar! Seem's if my head'll split open with all the noise," sighed +Tommy, wearily, then he brightened up as he inquired, "What d' you +come for, Tode?"</p> + +<p>"Just to talk to you a little," replied Theo. "S'pose you get awful +tired layin' here all the time, don't ye, Tommy?"</p> + +<p>The unexpected sympathy in the voice and look touched the lonely heart +of the little cripple. His eyes filled with tears, and he reached up +one skinny little hand and laid it on the rough, strong one of his +visitor as he answered,</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't know--you don't know anything about it, Tode. I don't +b'lieve dyin' can be half so bad's livin' this way. She wishes I'd +die. She's said so lots o' times," he nodded toward his aunt, who was +one of the women in the room, "an' I wish so too, 'f I've got to be +this way always."</p> + +<p>"Ain't ye never had no doctor, Tommy?" asked Theo, with a quick catch +in his breath as he realised dimly what it would be to have such a +life to look forward to.</p> + +<p>"No--she says she ain't got no money for doctors," replied the boy, +soberly.</p> + +<p>"I'll"--began Theodore, then wisely concluding to raise no hopes that +might not be realised, he changed his sentence to, "I'll find out if +there's a doctor that will come for nothin'. I believe there is +one. Can ye read, Tommy?"</p> + +<p>The sick boy shook his head. "How could I?" he answered. "Ain't nobody +ter show me nothin'."</p> + +<p>"Wonder 'f I couldn't," said Theo, thoughtfully. "I c'n tell ye the +letters anyhow, an' that'll be better'n nothin'."</p> + +<p>A bit of torn newspaper lay on the floor beside the bed. He picked it +up and pointed out A, O and S, to Tommy. By the time the little +cripple had thoroughly mastered those three letters so that he could +pick them out every time, the women had given up their quarrel. +Mrs. Green had taken up her baby and was feeding it, and the other +women, with sullen faces, had resumed their neglected duties.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear! Must you go?" Tommy exclaimed as Theo got off the cot on +which he had been sitting. "But you was real good to come, +anyhow. When'll ye come again an' tell me some more letters?"</p> + +<p>"I'll show ye one ev'ry day if I can get time. Then in three weeks +you'll know all the big ones an' some o' the little ones that are just +like the big ones. Now don't ye forget them three."</p> + +<p>"You bet I won't. I shall say 'em a hundred times 'fore to-morrow," +rejoined the little fellow, and his eyes followed his new friend +eagerly until the door closed behind him.</p> + +<p>As for Theodore himself, half the weight seemed to have been lifted +from his own heart as he went down the stairs again.</p> + +<p>"I'll run outside a minute 'fore I go to supper," he said to +himself. "The air was awful thick in that room. Reckon that's one +thing makes Tommy feel so bad."</p> + +<p>He walked briskly around two or three squares, and as he came back to +the house he noticed that the girl and the baby still sat where he had +seen them an hour before. The baby's cry had ceased, but it began +again as Theo was passing the two. He stopped and looked at them. The +girl's eyes rested on his face with a dull, indifferent glance.</p> + +<p>"What makes it cry? Is it sick?" the boy asked, nodding toward the +baby.</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"What ails it then?"</p> + +<p>"Starvin'."</p> + +<p>The girl uttered the word in a lifeless tone as if it were a matter of +no interest to her.</p> + +<p>"Where's yer mother?" pursued the boy.</p> + +<p>"Dead."</p> + +<p>"An' yer father?"</p> + +<p>"Drunk."</p> + +<p>"Ain't there nobody to look out for ye?"</p> + +<p>Again the girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Ain't ye had anything to eat to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What d'ye have yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Some crusts I found in the street. Do go off an' le'me 'lone. We're +most dead, an' I'm glad of it," moaned the girl, drearily.</p> + +<p>"You gi' me that baby an' come along. I'll get ye somethin' to eat," +cried Theo, and as the girl looked up at him half doubtfully and half +joyfully, he seized the bundle of shawl and baby and hurried with it +up to Nan's room, the girl dragging herself slowly along behind him.</p> + +<p>Nan cast a doubtful and half dismayed glance at the two strangers as +Theodore ushered them in, but the boy exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"They're half starved, Nan. We <i>must</i> give 'em somethin' to eat," +and when she saw the baby's little pinched face she hesitated no +longer, but quickly warmed some milk and fed it to the little one +while the girl devoured the bread and milk and meat set before her +with a ravenous haste that confirmed what she had said.</p> + +<p>Then, refreshed by the food, she told her pitiful story, the old story +of a father who spent his earnings in the saloon, leaving his +motherless children to live or die as might be. Nan's heart ached as +she listened, and Theodore's face was very grave. When the girl had +gone away with the baby in her arms, Theo said, earnestly,</p> + +<p>"Nan, I've got to earn more money."</p> + +<p>"How can you?" Nan asked. "You work so hard now, Theo."</p> + +<p>"I must work harder, Nan. I can't stand it to see folks starvin' an' +not help 'em. I'll pay you for what these two had you know."</p> + +<p>Nan looked at him reproachfully. "Don't you think I want to help too?" +she returned. "Do you think I've forgotten that meal you gave Little +Brother an' me?"</p> + +<p>"That was nothin'. Anyhow you've done lots more for me than ever I did +for you," the boy answered, earnestly, "but, Nan, how <i>can</i> rich +folks keep their money for themselves when there are people--babies, +Nan--starvin' right here in this city?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose the rich folks don't know about them," replied the girl, +thoughtfully, as she set the table for supper.</p> + +<p>"I've got to talk it over with Mr. Scott," Theo said, as he drew his +chair up to the table.</p> + +<p>"You talk everything over with Mr. Scott now, don't you, Theo?"</p> + +<p>"'Most everything. He's fine as silk, Mr. Scott is. He rings true +every time, but he ain't"--</p> + +<p>He left his sentence unfinished, but Nan knew of whom he was thinking.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon Theodore walked slowly through the business +streets, with eyes and ears alert, for some opening of which he might +take advantage to increase his income. Past block after block he +wandered till he was tired and discouraged. Finally he sat down on +some high stone steps to rest a bit, and while he sat there a coloured +boy came out of the building. He had a tin box and some rags in his +hands, and he began in an idle fashion to clean the brass railing to +the steps. Theodore fell into conversation with him, carelessly and +indifferently at first, but after a little with a sudden, keen +interest as the boy began to grumble about his work.</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-goin' ter clean these yer ol' railin's many more times," he +said. "It's too much work. I c'n git a place easy where the' ain't no +brasses to clean, an' I'm a-goin' ter, too. All the office boys hates +ter clean brasses."</p> + +<p>"What do ye clean 'em with?" Theodore inquired.</p> + +<p>The boy held out the tin box. "This stuff an' soft rags. Say--you want +ter try it?"</p> + +<p>He grinned as he spoke, but to his surprise his offer was +accepted. "Gi' me your rags," cried Theo, and he proceeded to rub and +polish energetically, until one side of the railings glittered like +gold.</p> + +<p>"Yer a gay ol' cleaner!" exclaimed the black boy, as he lolled in +blissful idleness on the top step. "Now go ahead with the other rail."</p> + +<p>But Theodore threw down the rags.</p> + +<p>"Not much," he answered. "I've done half your work an' you can do the +other half."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, finish up the job," remonstrated the other. "'Tain't +fair not to, for you've made that one shine so. I'll have ter put an +extry polish on the other to match it."</p> + +<p>But Theodore only laughed and walked off saying to himself,</p> + +<p>"Rather think this'll work first-rate."</p> + +<p>He went straight to a store, and asked for "the stuff for shining up +brass," and bought a box of it. Then he wondered where he could get +some clean rags.</p> + +<p>"Per'aps Mrs. Hunt'll have some," he thought, "an' anyhow I want to +see Jim."</p> + +<p>So home he hastened as fast as his feet would carry him.</p> + +<p>Good Mrs. Hunt was still a little cool to Theodore, though she could +see for herself how steady and industrious he was now, and how much he +had improved in every way; but she had never gotten over her first +impression of him, founded not only on his appearance and manners when +she first knew him, but also on Dick's evil reports in regard to +him. Now that Dick himself had gone so far wrong, his mother went +about with a heartache all the time, and found it hard sometimes to +rejoice as she knew she ought to do in the vast change for the better +in this other boy.</p> + +<p>"Is Jim here?" Theodore asked when Mrs. Hunt opened the door in +response to his knock.</p> + +<p>"Yes--what's wanted, Tode?" Jimmy answered for himself before his +mother could reply.</p> + +<p>"Can you stay out o' school to-morrow?" Theo questioned.</p> + +<p>"No, he can't, an' you needn't be temptin' him," broke in the mother, +quickly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, ma, wait till ye hear what he wants," remonstrated +Jimmy, in whose eyes Theo was just about right.</p> + +<p>"I wanted him to run my stand to-morrow," said Theodore. "I've got +somethin' else to 'tend to. There's plenty o' fellers that would like +to run it for me, but ye see I can't trust 'em an' I <i>can</i> trust +Jim every time."</p> + +<p>Jimmy drew himself up proudly. "Oh, ma, do let me stay out an' do it," +he cried, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"It's Friday, an' we don't have much to do Fridays anyhow, in our +school."</p> + +<p>"We-ell, I s'pose then you might stay out just this once," Mrs. Hunt +said, slowly, being fully alive to the advantages to Jimmy of such a +friendly feeling on Theo's part. She recognized Theodore's business +ability, and would have been only too glad to see her own boy develop +something of the same kind. She was haunted with a dread that he might +become idle and vicious as Dick had done.</p> + +<p>"All right, then," Theodore responded, promptly. "You be ready to go +down with me at seven o'clock, Jim, an' I'll see you started all right +before I leave you. Oh, Mrs. Hunt, there's one more thing I want. Have +you any clean old rags?"</p> + +<p>"For what?"</p> + +<p>"Any kind o' soft white cotton stuff or old flannel will do," replied +the boy, purposely leaving her question unanswered. "I'll pay you for +'em, of course, if you let me have 'em."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess I ain't so stingy as all that comes to," exclaimed +Mrs. Hunt, sharply. "D'ye want 'em now?"</p> + +<p>"I'll come for 'em after supper," answered the boy, thinking that it +was best to make sure of them, lest he be delayed for want of them in +the morning.</p> + +<p>When later that evening, he knocked at her door, Mrs. Hunt had the +pieces ready for him, and the next morning, Jimmy was waiting in the +hall when Theo came from Nan's room with his big basket, and the two +boys went down the street carrying the basket between them. As soon as +its contents had been arranged as attractively as possible on the +clean white marbled oilcloth with which the stand was covered, and the +coffee made and ready to serve, Theo handed Jimmy two dollars in +dimes, nickels and pennies, to make change, and set off with the box +of paste in his pocket, and the roll of rags under his arm.</p> + +<p>Jimmy watched him out of sight, and then with a proud sense of +responsibility awaited the appearance of his customers.</p> + +<p>Theodore walked rapidly on till he reached the business streets where +most of the handsome stores and offices were. Then he slackened his +pace and went on slowly, glancing keenly at each building until he +came to one that had half a dozen brass signs on the front.</p> + +<p>"Here's a good place to make a try," he said to himself, and going +into the first office on the ground floor he asked as politely as he +knew how,</p> + +<p>"Can I shine up your brass signs for you?"</p> + +<p>There were several young men in the outer office. One of them answered +carelessly, "Yes indeed, shine 'em up, boy, and see 't you make a good +job of it."</p> + +<p>"I will that, sir," responded Theodore, blithely, and set to work with +a will.</p> + +<p>There had been much wet weather and the signs were badly +discoloured. It took hard, steady rubbing for nearly an hour to get +them into good shining order, but Theodore worked away vigourously +until they gleamed and glittered in the morning sunlight. Then he went +again into the office.</p> + +<p>"I've finished 'em, sir," he said to the young man to whom he had +spoken before, "an' I think I've made a good job of it. Will you step +out an' see what you think?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all necessary. If you're satisfied, I am," replied the man, +bending over his desk and writing rapidly.</p> + +<p>Theodore waited in silence. The young man wrote on. Finally he glanced +up and remarked in a tone of surprise,</p> + +<p>"Oh, you here yet? Thought you'd finished your job."</p> + +<p>"I have done my part. I'm waitin' for you to do yours," replied the +boy.</p> + +<p>"Mine? What's my part, I'd like to know?" demanded the young man, +sharply.</p> + +<p>"To pay me for my work." replied Theo, promptly, but with a shadow +falling on his face.</p> + +<p>"Pay you? Well, if this isn't cheeky! I didn't agree to pay you +anything."</p> + +<p>"But you knew that I expected to be paid for my work," persisted the +boy, the angry colour rising in his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You expected--pshaw! Young man, you've had a lesson that is well +worth the time and labour you've expended," remarked the clerk in a +tone of great dignity. "Hereafter you will know better than to take +anything for granted in business transactions. Good-morning," and he +turned his back on the boy and began to write again.</p> + +<p>Theodore glanced around the room to see if there was any one on his +side, but two of the other clerks were grinning at his discomfiture, +and the others pretended not to know anything about the affair. He saw +now that he had been foolish to undertake the work as he had done, but +he realised that it would not help his case to make a fuss about +it. All the same he was unwilling to submit without a protest.</p> + +<p>"Next time I'll take care to make my bargain with a gentleman," he +said, quietly.</p> + +<p>He saw a singular change in the expression of the clerk's face at +these words, and as he turned sharply about to leave the office he +almost ran into a tall, grey-haired man who had just entered.</p> + +<p>"Stop a bit, my boy. I don't understand that remark of yours. What +bargain are you going to make with a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>The tone of authority, together with the disturbed face of one clerk +and the quite evident amusement of the others, suddenly enlightened +Theodore. He knew instinctively that this man was master here and in a +few quick sentences he told what had happened.</p> + +<p>The gentleman listened in silence, but his keen, dark eyes took note +of the flushed face of one clerk and the amused smiles of his +companions.</p> + +<p>"Is this boy's story true, Mr. Hammond?" he asked, sternly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hammond could not deny it "It was only a joke, sir," he said, +uneasily.</p> + +<p>"A joke, was it?" responded his employer. "I am not fond of such +jokes." Then he turned again to the boy and inquired, "How much is due +you for cleaning the signs?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I'm just starting in in this business, an' I'm not sure +what I ought to charge. Can you tell me, sir?"</p> + +<p>The gentleman smiled down into the young face lifted so frankly to +his.</p> + +<p>"Why, no," he answered, gravely, but with a twinkle in his eyes. "I +believe our janitor usually attends to the signs."</p> + +<p>"Guess he don't attend to 'em very well, for they were awful dirty," +remarked the boy. "Took 'me 'most an hour to shine 'em up. Did you +notice 'em, sir, as you came in?"</p> + +<p>"No, I did not. I'll look at them now," and Theodore followed the +gentleman out to the steps.</p> + +<p>"Well, you have made a good job of it, certainly," the gentleman +said. "The signs haven't shone like that since they were first put +there. Quite a contrast to the others on the building. Come back +into the office a moment."</p> + +<p>He went back to Mr. Hammond's desk and again Theodore followed.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hammond," said the gentleman, quietly, "you are willing of course +to pay for your joke. The boy has done his work extremely well. I +think he ought to have half a dollar for it."</p> + +<p>With anything but a happy expression, Mr. Hammond drew from his +pocket a half dollar and handed it to Theodore, who said, not to the +clerk, but to the gentleman, "Thank you, sir," and left the office.</p> + +<p>But he did not leave the building. He went to the owner of every brass +sign in or on the building and asked to be allowed to make every other +sign look as well as those of T.S. Harris, which he had just polished.</p> + +<p>Now, T.S. Harris was the owner of the building and the occupants of +the other offices considered that it would be wise to follow his +example in this matter, so the result was that Theodore spent all the +morning over the signs on that one building, and Mr. Harris having set +the price, he received twenty-five cents for each sign. He was just +putting a finishing rub on the last one when the janitor discovered +what had been going on. He came at the boy in a great rage for he +wanted no one to have anything to do with the care of the building +except those whom he chose to hire.</p> + +<p>"You take your traps an' clear out o' this now, an' don't you ever +dare to show your face here again," he shouted, angrily. "If I catch +ye here again I'll kick ye down the stairs!"</p> + +<p>"P'raps Mr. Harris will have a word to say about that," replied +Theodore, coolly, for in one and another of the offices he had picked +up enough to convince him that the word of Mr. Harris was law in that +building. Then he added, in a much more friendly tone,</p> + +<p>"Now, look here, mister. You're too busy a man to be cleaning +signs--'course you are. You've got to hire somebody t' do it an' the' +won't anybody do it better or fer less money 'n I will. I'm a-goin' to +make a reg'lar business of cleanin' brasses all 'round this +neighbourhood, an' if you'll stan' by me an' help me fix it all right +with the other bosses 'bout here--I'll see 't you don't lose anythin' +by it."</p> + +<p>The janitor's fierce frown had slowly faded as the boy spoke. Nothing +pleased him so much as to be considered a person of influence, and had +Theodore been ever so shrewd he could have adopted no other line of +argument that would so quickly and effectually have changed an enemy +into a friend as did this that he hit upon merely by chance. The man +stepped down to the sidewalk and looked up at the signs with a +critical air.</p> + +<p>"Wai'," he answered, slowly, "I ain't a-goin' to deny that you've done +your work well--yes a sight better'n any of the lazy rascals I've been +hiring, an' if you could be depended on now, I d'know but what I +might's well give the work to you as to anybody else. Of course, as +you say, 'tain't my place to do servant's work like brass cleanin'."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," assented Theo, promptly.</p> + +<p>"But then," the man went on, "if I should speak for ye t' the janitors +of the other buildings 'long here, 'n' get ye a big line o' custom, +'course I sh'ld have a right t' expect a--er--a sort o' commission on +the profits, so to speak?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" replied Theodore, rather blankly. "What <i>is</i> a commission, +anyhow?"</p> + +<p>The man explained.</p> + +<p>"And how much of a commission would you expect?" questioned the boy.</p> + +<p>The janitor made a mental calculation. Here on this one building, the +boy had cleaned seven signs. That made a dollar and seventy-five cents +that he had earned in one morning. Of course he would not often get so +much out of one building, but the man saw that there were good +possibilities in this line of work.</p> + +<p>"S'pose we say ten per cent.--ten cents out of every dollar?" he +ventured, with a keen glance at the boy.</p> + +<p>"You mean ten per cent, on all the work that I get through you?" Theo +replied.</p> + +<p>"Oh no--on <i>all</i> the work of this sort that you do. That's no +more'n fair since you'll owe your start to me."</p> + +<p>"Not much! I owe my start to myself, an' I'll make no such bargain as +that," answered Theo, decidedly. "I'm willin' to give you ten per +cent. on all that I get through you, but not a cent more. You see I'm +bound to put this thing through whether you help me or not," he added, +quietly.</p> + +<p>The janitor saw that he had been too grasping and hastened to modify +his demands lest he lose his commissions altogether.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," he said, soothingly, "we won't quarrel over a little +difference like that. Let it be as you say, ten per cent. on all the +jobs I get for ye, an' there's the janitor of the Laramie Building on +the steps this minute. Come along with me an' I'll give ye a start +over there--or, first--ain't there a little matter to attend to," he +added, with an insinuating smile. "You'll settle your bills fast as +they come due, of course, an' you've got a snug little sum out of my +building here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but no thanks to you for that," replied Theo, but as the man's +face darkened again, he added, "but never mind, I'll give you the +commission on this work since it's in your building," and he handed +eighteen cents to the janitor, who slipped it into his pocket with an +abstracted air as if unconscious of what he was doing.</p> + +<p>The result of the man's recommendation to his brother janitor was that +Theodore secured the promise of all the brass cleaning in the Laramie +Building also, and that with one or two small jobs kept him busy until +dark when he went home with a light heart and with the sum of three +dollars and fourteen cents in his pocket. To be sure he had worked +hard all day to earn it, but Theodore never had been lazy and he was +willing enough to work hard now.</p> + +<p>He carried home some oranges as a special treat that night, for now he +took his supper regularly with Nan who was glad to make a return in +this fashion for the help he was continually giving her in carrying +out her food supplies, as well as many other ways.</p> + +<p>As they arose from the supper-table, Theodore said, "I'll go across +an' see how Jimmy got on to-day, at the stand," but even as he spoke +there came a low knock at the door and there stood Jimmy--no longer +proud and happy as he had been in the morning, but with red eyes and a +face full of trouble.</p> + +<p>"Why, Jimmy, what's the matter?" cried Nan and Theo, in one voice.</p> + +<p>"Come in," added Nan, kindly pulling him in and gently pushing him +toward a chair.</p> + +<p>Jimmy dropped into it with an appealing glance at Theo.</p> + +<p>"I'm--I'm awful sorry, Tode," he began. "But I--I couldn't help it, +truly I couldn't." He rubbed his sleeve hastily across his eyes as he +spoke.</p> + +<p>"But what is it, Jimmy? I'm sure you did the best you could whatever +is wrong, but do tell us what it is," exclaimed Theodore, half +laughing and half impatient at the uncertainty.</p> + +<p>"'Twas that mean ol' Carrots," began Jimmy, indignantly. "I was +sellin' things off in fine style, Tode, an' Carrots, he came along an' +he said he wanted three san'wiches in a paper. I put 'em up fer him, +an' then he asked fer six doughnuts an' some gingerbread, an' a cup o' +coffee--an' he wanted 'em all in a paper."</p> + +<p>"Not the coffee, Jimmy," said Nan, laughingly, as the boy stopped to +take breath.</p> + +<p>"No, 'course not the coffee. He swallered that an' put in a extry +spoonful o' sugar too, but he wanted all the rest o' the things in a +paper bag, an' I did 'em up good for him, an' then he asked me to tie +a string 'round 'em, an' I got down under the stand for a piece of +string, an' when I found it, an' looked up--don't you think Tode--that +rascal was streakin' it down the street as fast's he could go, an' I +couldn't leave the stand to run after him, an' 'course the' wasn't any +p'lice 'round, an' so I had to let him go. I'm awful sorry, Theo, but +I couldn't help it."</p> + +<p>"'Course you couldn't, Jimmy. And is that all the trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's 'nough, ain't it?" answered Jimmy, mournfully. "He got +off with more'n forty cents worth o' stuff--the old pig! I'll fix him +yet!"</p> + +<p>"Well, don't worry any more over it, Jimmy. Losin' th' forty cents +won't break me, I guess," said Theo, kindly.</p> + +<p>Jimmy brightened up a little, but the shadow again darkened his face +as he said, anxiously, "I s'pose you won't never trust me to run the +stand again?"</p> + +<p>"Trust you, Jimmy? Well, I guess I will. No danger of <i>your</i> +trusting Carrots again, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Not if I know myself," responded Jimmy, promptly, and Theo went on,</p> + +<p>"I s'pose your mother wouldn't want you to stay out of school mornin's +for a week or two?"</p> + +<p>Jimmy looked at him with sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean"--he began, breathlessly, and then paused.</p> + +<p>"I mean that I may want you to run the stand for me all next week, as +well as to-morrow," Theo answered.</p> + +<p>"Oh--ee! That's most too good to b'lieve," cried the little +fellow. "Say! I think you're--you're prime, Tode. I must go an' tell +ma," and he dashed out of the door, his face fairly beaming with +delight.</p> + +<p>"It's worth while to make anybody so happy, isn't it, Theo?" Nan said, +then she added, thoughtfully, "Do you think the brass-cleaning will +take all your time, so you can't be at the stand any more?"</p> + +<p>"Just at first it will. Maybe I shall fix it differently after a +while," he answered.</p> + +<p>On his way to the business district the next morning, he stopped and +bought a blank book and a pencil, and wherever he cleaned a sign or a +railing that day, he tried to make a regular engagement to keep the +brasses in good condition. If he secured a promise of the work by the +month he made a reduction on his price, and every business man--or +janitor who regularly engaged him, was asked to write his own name in +the new blank book. Not on the first page of the book, however. That +the boy kept blank until about the time when Mr. Harris had come to +his office the day before. At that hour, Theodore was waiting near the +office door, and there Mr. Harris found him as he came up the steps.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, sir," said Theo, pulling off his cap with a smile +lighting up his plain face.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," returned the gentleman. "Have you found something +else to polish up here to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, but I wanted to ask you if you would sign your name here in +my book," the boy replied.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harris looked amused. "Come into my office," he said, "and tell me +what it is that you want."</p> + +<p>Theodore followed him across the outer office to the private room +beyond. The clerks cast curious glances after the two, and Hammond +scowled as he bent over his desk.</p> + +<p>"Now let me see your book," said Mr. Harris, as the door of the office +swung silently behind them.</p> + +<p>Theo laid his rags and paste box on the carpet, and then put the blank +book on the desk as he said, earnestly,</p> + +<p>"You see, sir, I'm trying to work up a reg'lar business, an' so I want +the business men I work for to engage me by the month to take care of +their brass work--an' I guess I did learn a lesson here yesterday, for +to-day I've asked every gentleman who has engaged me to sign his name +in this book--See?"</p> + +<p>He turned over the leaves and showed three names on the second page.</p> + +<p>"And you want my name there, too? But I haven't engaged you. I only +gave you a job yesterday."</p> + +<p>"But your janitor has engaged me," answered Theodore, quickly.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, isn't it the janitor's name that you want?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir," cried the boy, earnestly. "Nobody knows the janitor, +but I guess lots o' folks know you, an' your name would make others +sign--don't you see?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Harris laughed. "I see that you seem to have a shrewd business +head. You'll make a man one of these days if you keep on. And you want +my name on this first page?" he added, dipping his pen into the +inkstand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, because you was my first friend in this business," replied +Theodore.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harris glanced at him with that amused twinkle in his eye, but he +signed his name on the first page.</p> + +<p>Then he said, "I wish you success in your undertaking, and here's a +trifle for a send-off." He held out a silver dollar as he spoke, but +Theodore did not take it.</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, sir," he said, gratefully; "you've been real good to me, +but I can't take any money now, 'cept what I earn. I c'n earn all I +need."</p> + +<p>"So?" replied Mr. Harris, "you're independent. Well, I like that, but +I'll keep this dollar for you, and if you ever get in a tight place +you can come to me for it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Harris," said the boy again. "I won't forget, but I +hope I won't need it," and then he picked up his belongings and left +the office. As he passed Mr. Hammond's desk, he said, "Good-morning, +sir," but the clerk pretended not to hear.</p> + +<p>All through the next week and for weeks after, Theodore spent his time +from nine to five o'clock, cleaning brasses and making contracts for +the regular care of them, until he had secured as much work as he +could attend to himself.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Jimmy Hunt had taken entire charge of the stand and was +doing well with it. Theo gave him four-fifths of the profits and he +was perfectly satisfied, and so was his mother, who found his earnings +a welcome addition to the slim family income, and it was so near the +end of the school term that she concluded it did not matter if Jimmy +did stay out the few remaining weeks.</p> + +<p>But busy as Theodore was, he still found time to carry out what Nan +cooked for the people in the two houses, as well as to drop in on one +and another of his many neighbours every evening--for by this time the +night school had closed for the season. His Saturday evenings were +still spent at the flower stand, and now that blossoms were more +plentiful, he received more and better ones in payment for his work, +and his Sunday morning visits to the different rooms were looked +forward to all the week by many of those to whom he went, and hardly +less so by himself, for the boy was learning by glad experience the +wonderful joy that comes from giving happiness to others. When he saw +how the flowers he carried to stuffy, dirty, crowded rooms, were kept +and cherished and cared for even until they were withered and dead--he +was sure that his little flower mission was a real blessing.</p> + +<p>Before the hot weather came, Tommy O'Brien was carried away out of the +noisy, crowded room to the Hospital for Incurables. Theo had brought +one of the dispensary doctors to see the boy, and through the doctor's +efforts and those of Mr. Scott, Tommy had been received into the +hospital. He had never been so comfortable in his brief life as he was +there, but at first he was lonely, and so Theodore went once or twice +a week to see him, and he never failed to save out some flowers to +carry to Tommy on Sunday.</p> + +<p>But, however full Theodore's time might be, and however busy his +hands, he never forgot the search for Jack Finney. His eyes were +always watching for a blue-eyed, sandy-haired boy of sixteen, and he +made inquiries for him everywhere. Three times he heard of a boy +named Finney, and sought him out only to be disappointed, for the +first Jack Finney he found was a little chap of ten or eleven, and the +next was a boy of sixteen, but with hair and eyes as black as a +Jew's--and besides, it turned out that his name wasn't Finney at all, +but Findlay; and the third time, the boy he found was living at home +with his parents, so Theo knew that no one of the three was the boy of +whom he was in search and although he did not in the least give up the +matter, he came to the conclusion at last that his Jack Finney must +have left the city.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott interested himself in the search because of his great +interest in Theodore, and he went to the reform school and the prison, +but the name he sought was on neither record.</p> + +<p>Although Theodore said nothing to any one about it, he was also on the +lookout for another boy, and that boy was Carrots. Ever since Carrots +had stolen the food from the stand, Theo had wanted to find him. More +than once he had caught a glimpse in the streets of the lank figure +and the frowzy red head, but Carrots had no desire to meet Theo and he +took good care to keep out of his way.</p> + + + +<a name="12"></a> +<h1>XII. Nan Finds Friends</h1> + +<p>So the spring days slipped away until March and April were gone and +the middle of May had come. Theodore was counting the days now, for it +was in May that the bishop was to return--so Mrs. Martin had told +him--and the boy began to watch eagerly for the word that the +housekeeper had promised to send him. So full of this were his +thoughts and so busy was he with his work for himself and for others, +that he spent much less time than usual with Nan and Little Brother.</p> + +<p>About this time there was a week of extremely hot weather. One day +toward the close of this week as Theodore was passing Mrs. Hunt's +door, she called him in.</p> + +<p>"You'd better come here for your supper to-night," she said.</p> + +<p>Theodore looked at her with a quick, startled glance.</p> + +<p>"Why--where's Nan?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Nan's in her room, but she can't get you any supper to-night. She's +sick. I've seen for weeks past that Nan was overworkin' with all that +cooking she's been doin', and to-day she just gave out--an' she's flat +on her back now."</p> + +<p>Theodore was silent in blank dismay. Until that moment he had not +realised how much he had come to depend upon Nan.</p> + +<p>"Has she had a doctor, or anything?" he asked, in such a troubled +voice that Mrs. Hunt could not but be sorry for him.</p> + +<p>"No, I offered to send Jimmy for a doctor, but she said she only +wanted to rest, but I tell you what, Theo, she ain't goin' to get much +rest in that room, hot's an oven with the constant cooking, an' what's +more that baby can't stand it neither."</p> + +<p>"I'll go an' see her," replied the boy, slowly, "an'--I guess I don't +want any supper to-night, Mrs. Hunt."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do want supper, too, Theodore. You come back here in half +an hour an' get it, an' look here--Don't worry Nan, talkin' 'bout her +being sick," Mrs. Hunt called after him in a low voice, as he turned +toward the girl's door.</p> + +<p>It seemed strange enough to Theodore to see bright, energetic Nan +lying with pale face and idle hands on the bed. She smiled up at the +boy as he stood silent beside the bed finding no words to say.</p> + +<p>"I'm only tired, Theo," she said, gently. "It has been so hot to-day, +and Little Brother fretted so that I couldn't get through my work so +well as usual."</p> + +<p>"He's sick too," answered Theodore, gravely.</p> + +<p>Nan turned her head to look at the little white face on the pillow +beside her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's sick. Oh Theo"--and then the girl covered her face with her +hands, and Theodore saw the tears trickling through her fingers.</p> + +<p>"Don't Nan, don't!" he cried, in a choked voice, and then he turned +and ran out of the room and out of the house. Straight to his teacher +he went, sure of finding there sympathy, and if possible, help.</p> + +<p>He was not disappointed. Mr. Scott listened to what he had to say, and +wrote a note to a friend of his own who was a physician, asking him to +see Nan and the baby at his earliest convenience. Then having +comforted Theodore, and compelled him to take some supper, Mr. Scott +sent him away greatly refreshed, and proceeded to talk the matter over +with his aunt, Mrs. Rawson.</p> + +<p>"Those two children ought to be sent away into the country, Aunt +Mary," he began.</p> + +<p>"Nan and Theodore, do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! Theodore's all right. He's well and strong. I mean Nan and +her little brother. Aunt Mary, it would make your heart ache to see +such a girl as that working as she has worked, and living among such +people. I wish you would go and see the child."</p> + +<p>"I'll try to go to-morrow, Allan. I've been intending to ever since +you told me about her, but the days do slip away so fast!" answered +the lady.</p> + +<p>But she found time to go the next day, and the first sight of Nan's +sweet face was enough to make her as deeply interested in the two as +her nephew had long been.</p> + +<p>"But what an uncomfortable place for a sick girl!" Mrs. Rawson +thought, as she glanced at the shutterless windows through which the +sun was pouring, making the small room almost unbearably hot, although +there was no fire in the stove. She noticed that the place was +daintily clean and neat, though bare as it well could be, but noisy +children were racing up and down the stairways and shouting through +the halls, making quiet rest impossible. Mrs. Rawson's kind heart +ached as she looked from the room to the pure face of the girl lying +there with the little child beside her.</p> + +<p>"She must be a very unusual girl to look like that after living for +months in this place," she thought to herself.</p> + +<p>While she was there the doctor came, and when he went away, +Mrs. Rawson went with him that she might tell him what she knew about +the girl's life and learn what he thought of the case.</p> + +<p>"It is a plain case of overwork," he said. "From what you tell me the +girl has been doing twice as much as she was able to do, and living in +that little oven of a room with nothing like the fresh air and +exercise she should have had, and very likely not half enough to +eat. The baby seems extremely delicate. Probably it won't live through +the summer, and a good thing too if there's no one but the girl to +provide for them. What they need is--to go straight away into the +country and stay there all summer, or better yet, for a year or two, +but I suppose that is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"I must see what can be done, doctor. Such a girl as that surely ought +not to be left to struggle along unfriended."</p> + +<p>"No, but there are so many such cases. Well, I hope something can be +done for her. I'll call and see her again to-morrow, but medicine is +of little use in a case like this," the doctor replied.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rawson was not one to "let the grass grow under her feet," when +she had anything to do, and she felt that she had something to do in +this case. She thought it over as she went home, and before night she +had written to a relative in the country--a woman who had a big farm +and a big heart--to ask if she would board Nan and her little brother +for the summer. She described the two, and told how bravely the girl +had battled with poverty and misfortune until her strength had +failed. The letter went straight from the warm heart of the writer to +that of her friend and the response was prompt.</p> + +<p>"Send those two children right to me, and if rest and pure air and +plenty of wholesome food are what they need, please God, they shall +soon be strong and well. They are surely His little ones, and you know +I am always ready and glad to do His work."</p> + +<p>Such was the message that Mrs. Rawson read to her nephew two days +after her visit to Nan, and his face was full of satisfaction as he +listened to it.</p> + +<p>"Nothing could be better," he said. "It will be a splendid place for +those children, and it will be a good thing too for Mrs. Hyde to have +them there."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so," replied Mrs. Rawson, "but now the question is--will +Nan consent to go? From what little I have seen of her I judge that +she will not be at all willing to accept help from strangers."</p> + +<p>"She will shrink from it, perhaps, for herself, but for the sake of +that little brother I think she will consent to go. Theo tells me that +she has been exceedingly anxious about the child for weeks past," +answered Mr. Scott.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll go to-morrow and see if I can prevail upon her to accept +this offer, but Allan, one thing you must do, if Nan does consent to +go--and that is, you must break it to Theodore. It's going to be a +blow to him, to have those two go away from the city. He'll be left +entirely alone."</p> + +<p>"So he will. I hadn't thought of that. I must think it over and see +what can be done for him. He certainly must not stay there, with no +place but that dark little closet in which he sleeps," replied the +gentleman.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rawson's kindly sympathy and gentle manners had quickly won Nan's +confidence and the girl welcomed her warmly when she appeared in the +little room the next morning. She found Nan sitting by the open +window, with her pale little brother in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm ever so much better," she said, in reply to Mrs. Rawson's +inquiries. "The doctor's medicine helped me right away, but I don't +feel very strong yet--not quite well enough to begin my cooking +again. I'm going to begin it to-morrow," she added.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you'll not do any cooking to-morrow, Nan," said the lady, +decidedly. "You're not fit to stand over the stove or the mixing +board, and besides, it would make the room too hot for the baby."</p> + +<p>Nan glanced anxiously at the little face on her arm.</p> + +<p>"I can carry him in to Mrs. Hunt's. He's no trouble, and she's always +willing to keep him," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Now, my child, I want you to listen to me," Mrs. Rawson began, and +went on to tell the girl about the plans she had made for her and her +little brother.</p> + +<p>Nan listened, with the colour coming and going in her face.</p> + +<p>"It is so good--so kind of you to think of this," she exclaimed, +earnestly, "and I'd <i>love</i> to go. Mrs. Rawson, you don't know how +I hate living in a place like this," she shuddered, as she spoke, "and +it would be like heaven to get away into the sweet clean country, with +good people--but I can't go unless there is something I can do +there. I <i>couldn't</i> go and live on charity, you know."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be charity, Nan; it would be love," answered Mrs. Rawson, +gently. "Mrs. Hyde keeps one room in her house always ready for any +guest whom the Lord may send her and I think He is sending you there +now. Remember, my child, you have this dear sick baby to think of, as +well as yourself. Nan, the doctor thinks Little Brother will not live +through the summer unless he is taken away from the city."</p> + +<p>Nan gave a quick, gasping breath, as she drew the baby closer and bent +her face over his. When she looked up again her eyes were wet, and +she said, in a low tone,</p> + +<p>"If that is so, I can't refuse this kind offer, and I will try to find +some way to make it right."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to make right, dear; you've only to go and be just as +happy and contented as you can be. I know you will be happy there. +You can't help loving Mrs. Hyde. And now, my child, there's another +matter." She paused and added, in a low tone, "I had a little girl +once, but God took her away from my home. She would have been about +your age now if she had staid with me. For her sake, Nan, I want you +to let me get a few things that you and the baby will need. Will you, +dear?"</p> + +<p>Nan was proud. She had never gotten accustomed to poverty and its +painful consequences, and she would have preferred to do without, any +time, rather than accept a gift from those on whom she had no claim; +but she realised that she could not go among strangers with only the +few poor garments that she now had, so, after a moment's silence, she +answered, in a voice that was not quite steady,</p> + +<p>"You are very, very good to me, Mrs. Rawson. I'll try to be good too, +only, please don't get a single thing that I can do without."</p> + +<p>"Nan, if you had plenty of money and you found a girl who had been +left all alone in the world, with no one to do anything for her--would +you think it was any wonderful kindness in you to spend a few dollars +for her?"</p> + +<p>"N--no, of course not. I'd just <i>love</i> to do it," replied Nan, +"but"--</p> + +<p>"That's enough, then, and now there's only one more thing I have to +speak about. I know some girls, who have formed themselves into a band +called a 'King's Daughter Circle,' and they meet once a week to sew +for somebody who is not able to do her own sewing. I've told these +girls a little about you and they want very much to do some sewing for +Little Brother and you. Now, would you be willing to let them come +here to-morrow afternoon? Would it trouble you?"</p> + +<p>The colour rose in Nan's cheeks and her lips trembled, and for a +moment she seemed to shrink into herself as she thought what a +contrast her poor surroundings would be to these other girls, who +lived such different lives from hers, but she saw that Mrs. Rawson was +really desirous that they should come, and she was not willing to +disappoint one who was doing so much for her; so after a moment's +silence she answered,</p> + +<p>"Of course they can come, if you think they won't mind too much." She +glanced about the room as she spoke.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rawson leaned over and kissed her. "Child," she said, "they know +nothing about the trials that come into other lives--like yours. I +want them to know you. Don't worry one bit over their coming. They are +dear girls and I'm sure you will like them--as sure as I am that they +will all love you--and Nan, one thing more, leave Mr. Scott to tell +Theodore about your going."</p> + +<p>Then she went away, leaving Nan with many things to think about. She +could not help worrying somewhat over the coming of those girls. As +she recalled her own old home, she realised how terribly bare and poor +her one room would look to these strangers and she shrank nervously +from the thought of meeting them. More than once, she was tempted to +ask Theo to go to Mrs. Rawson and tell her that the girls could not +come there.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rawson went straight from Nan's room to the shopping district, +where she purchased simple but complete outfits for Nan and the +baby. The under garments and the baby's dresses she bought ready-made +and also a neat wool suit for the girl and hats and wraps for both, +but she bought enough pretty lawn and gingham to make as many wash +dresses as Nan would require, and these she carried home and cut out +the next morning. That evening too she sent notes to the members of +the circle telling them to meet at her house before one o'clock the +next day, which was Saturday.</p> + +<p>They came promptly, eleven girls between fifteen and seventeen, each +with her sewing implements. Bright, happy girls they were, as Nan +might have been, had her life been peaceful and sheltered like theirs, +Mrs. Rawson thought, as she welcomed them. + + +"Sit down, girls," she said, "I want to tell you more about my poor +little Nan before you see her."</p> + +<p>She told the story in such fashion that the warm, girlish hearts were +filled with a sweet and tender sympathy for this other girl, and they +were eager to do all that they could for her.</p> + +<p>Not one of them had ever before been in a tenement house like the one +to which Mrs. Rawson led them, and they shrank from the rude children +and coarse women whom they encountered in the halls and on the stairs, +and pressed closer together, grasping each other's hands.</p> + +<p>Nan's face whitened and her thin hands were clasped tightly together +as she heard them coming along the hall. She knew it was they, so +different were their quiet footsteps from most that passed her door.</p> + +<p>Nan opened the door in response to Mrs. Rawson's knock and the girls +flocked in, looking so dainty and pretty in their fresh shirt-waists +and dimities, and their gay ribbons. As Nan looked at them she was +painfully conscious of her own faded calico and worn shoes, and her +cheeks flushed, but the girls gave her no time to think of these +things. They crowded about her, introducing each other with merry +laughter and gay little jokes, seeming to take Nan right in among them +as one of themselves, and taking prompt possession of the baby, who +wasn't a bit shy, and appeared to like to be passed from one to +another, and kissed, and called sweet names.</p> + +<p>Nan had borrowed all Mrs. Hunt's chairs, but still there were not +enough, and three or four girls gleefully settled themselves on the +bed. Every one of them had come with her hands full of flowers, and +seeing these, Mrs. Rawson had brought along a big glass rose bowl, +which the girls speedily filled and set in the middle of the table.</p> + +<p>A tap at the door announced the arrival of a boy with a box and a bag +for Mrs. Rawson, and out of the box she lifted a baby sewing machine, +which she fastened to the table. Then from the bag she took the lawn +and gingham as she said,</p> + +<p>"Now, girls, your tongues can run just as fast as your fingers sew, +but remember this tiny machine works very rapidly and you've got to +keep it supplied. I'll hem this skirt first."</p> + +<p>In an instant every girl had on her thimble, and they all set to work +with right good will.</p> + +<p>"Can't I do some, too?" said Nan. "I don't want to be the only idle +one."</p> + +<p>"You can gather some ruffles in a few minutes--as soon as I have +hemmed them," answered Mrs. Rawson, smiling to herself, as she saw how +bright and interested Nan looked already.</p> + +<p>All that long, bright afternoon tongues and needles were about equally +busy. Fortunately it was cooler, else the girls would have been +uncomfortable in the small room, but as it was, not even Nan gave more +than a passing thought to the bare room and its lack of +comfort. Indeed, after the first few moments, Nan forgot all about +herself and just gave herself up to the delight of being once more a +girl among girls. She thought them lovely, every one, and indeed they +were lovely to her in every way, for her sweet face and gentle manners +had won them all at first sight. How they did chatter! Never before +had that room--or indeed any room in that dreary building, held such a +company as gathered there that day.</p> + +<p>At half-past five there came another rap on the door, and Mrs. Rawson +exclaimed, "Put up your sewing, girls. We've business of another sort +to attend to now."</p> + +<p>The girls looked at her inquiringly as Nan opened the door again.</p> + +<p>"Bring them in," called Mrs. Rawson, and a man edged his way gingerly +among the girls and set two big baskets and an ice cream freezer +beside the table.</p> + +<p>"A house picnic! Mrs. Rawson, you're a darling!" called one and +another of the girls.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rawson nodded a laughing acknowledgment of the compliment, as she +said, "Open the baskets, girls. The dishes are in the round one. I +thought Nan might not be prepared for quite such a family party."</p> + +<p>With quick, deft fingers the girls swept aside the sewing, unscrewed +the little machine, spread a fine damask cloth over the pine table, +and on it arranged the pretty green and gold dishes and glasses, +putting the big bowl of roses in the centre.</p> + +<p>Then from the other basket they took tiny buttered biscuits, +three-cornered sandwiches, tied with narrow green ribbons, a dish of +chicken salad, and a big loaf of nut cake. All these quite covered the +table so that the cream had to be left in the freezer until it was +wanted.</p> + +<p>How Nan did enjoy that feast! How her eyes shone with quiet happiness +as she watched the bright faces and listened to the merry talk; not +all merry either, for more than once it touched upon the deep things +of life, showing that the girls had thought much, even if their lives +had been happy, sheltered ones.</p> + +<p>When the feast was ended, the dishes repacked in the basket, and the +unfinished work put away, the girls gathered about Nan to say +"good-bye," and she wondered how she could have dreaded their +coming,--for now it seemed as if she could not let them go. She felt +as if all the joyous brightness would vanish with them. The quick +young eyes read something of this feeling in her face, and more than +one girl left a kiss with her cordial farewell.</p> + +<p>The room seemed very still and lonely to Nan when the last flutter of +light dresses was gone and the last faint echo of girlish voices and +footsteps had died on her eagerly listening ears. She dropped into the +rocking-chair and looked about the room, trying to repeople it with +those fair, young, friendly faces. She could almost have imagined it +all a dream but for the cake and sandwiches and ice cream on the +table.</p> + +<p>The sight of the fast melting cream suggested another thought to +her. Hastily filling a plate with portions of everything on the table, +she set it away for Theodore and then went across to Mrs. Hunt's rooms +to tell her to come with the children and take all that was left.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the children gleamed with delight at sight of the +unexpected treat, and they speedily emptied the dishes which their +mother then carried home to wash, while the children took back the +borrowed chairs.</p> + +<p>By this time Nan began to feel very weary, and she threw herself down +on the bed with the baby, but she kept in her hand some little scrips +of the pretty lawns and ginghams that she had found on the floor. It +seemed hardly possible to her that she could be going to have such +dresses. Why--one of the scrips was exactly like a waist that one of +those girls had worn. Nan gazed at it with a smile on her lips, a +smile that lingered there until it was chased away by the remembrance +of Theo's loneliness when she and Little Brother should be far away.</p> + + + +<a name="13"></a> +<h1>XIII. Nan's Departure</h1> + +<p>Theo was feeling that he needed sympathy about that time, for it +seemed to him as if every one that he cared for was to be taken away +from him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott had invited the boy to go with him for a row on the river +and then to go home with him to supper. The river was beautiful in the +afternoon sunlight, and Theodore enjoyed the row and the friendly talk +with his teacher, but he felt a little shy with Mrs. Rawson and was +not sorry to find her absent from the supper-table.</p> + +<p>When the meal was over Mr. Scott took the boy up to his own room to +see some of his curiosities. Theo's quick eyes took silent note of +everything, and he mentally decided that some day he would have just +such a room as that. He was thinking thus, when Mr. Scott said,</p> + +<p>"Theo, you haven't asked me what Dr. Reed thinks about Nan and her +little brother."</p> + +<p>"She's better to-day--Nan is," exclaimed the boy, quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose the medicine has toned her up a little, but the doctor +says that she must have a long rest. She has been working too hard."</p> + +<p>"Well, she can. I'm earnin' enough now to take care of 'em," +interposed the boy.</p> + +<p>"Nan would never be content to let you do that, I think, but, Theo, +that isn't all."</p> + +<p>Theo said nothing, but his anxious eyes asked the question that his +lips refused to utter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott went on, "The doctor says that the baby must go away into +the country or--he will die."</p> + +<p>Theodore walked quickly to the window, and stood there looking out in +silence. After a moment, his teacher crossed the room and laid his arm +affectionately over the boy's shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Theodore," he said, gently, "I want to tell you what we +have planned for Nan and the little one."</p> + +<p>Then in few words he told of Mrs. Rawson's letter and the reply, +describing the beautiful country home to which Nan and the baby were +to go.</p> + +<p>"You will be glad to think of them in such a place during the hot +summer days," he went on, "even though their going leaves you very +lonely, as I know it will, Theodore."</p> + +<p>"I ought to be glad, Mr. Scott," replied the boy, slowly, as his +teacher paused, "an' I am, but ye see you don't know how hard 'tis for +a feller to keep straight when he ain't got no home an' nobody to talk +to after his work's done at night. Nan--well <i>you</i> know she ain't +like the rest o' the folks down our way. She never scolds nor nags at +me, but somehow I can't ever look her straight in the eye if I've been +doin' anything mean."</p> + +<p>"Nan has been a good friend to you, I'm sure, and I think you have +been a good friend to her and the baby, Theodore. I know that she will +miss you sadly at first, and if she thinks you are to be very lonely +without them, I'm afraid she will worry about it and not get as much +good from the change as she might otherwise," Mr. Scott added.</p> + +<p>The boy drew a long breath. "I won't let her know 't I care much 'bout +their goin'," he said, bravely.</p> + +<p>"Nan will guess quite enough," answered the gentleman, "but, Theodore, +how would you like to come here? Mrs. Rawson has a little room over +the L that she seldom uses, and she says that you can sleep there if +you like, and pay for it the same that you pay for the dark room that +you now have."</p> + +<p>The boy's eyes were full of surprise and pleasure as he answered, +gratefully, "I'd like that fine!"</p> + +<p>"Come on, then, and we'll take a look at the place. It has been used +as a storeroom and will, of course, need some fixing up."</p> + +<p>As Mr. Scott threw open the door of the L room Theodore stepped in and +looked about him with shining eyes. It was a long, low room with +windows on three sides. The floor was covered with matting and the +walls with a light, cheerful paper.</p> + +<p>"This for me!" exclaimed the boy. "Why, Mr. Scott, it's--it's too fine +for a chap like me."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, my boy, but I think you can be very comfortable here, and +you will know that you have friends close at hand. And now, Theodore, +I suppose you will want to get home, for we hope to get Nan away next +week."</p> + +<p>"So soon!" cried the boy, a shadow falling on the face, a moment +before so bright.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the sooner the better for the little one's sake," replied +Mr. Scott, gravely.</p> + +<p>"You've been mighty good to me--an' to Nan," said the boy, simply, and +then he went away.</p> + +<p>He walked rapidly through the streets, taking no note of what was +passing around him, his thoughts were so full of this new trouble, for +a great and sore trouble it seemed to him to lose Nan and Little +Brother out of his life even for a few weeks. His way led him across +the Common, but he hurried along with unseeing eyes until suddenly +something bright attracted his attention, and he became aware that it +was a shock of rough red hair under a ragged old cap. It was surely +Carrots sitting on one of the benches, his eyes gazing moodily across +the greensward to the street beyond. He did not notice Theo's +approach, but started up quickly, as the latter stopped in front of +him.</p> + +<p>"Hold on, Carrots--don't clear out. I want to tell you something," +cried Theo, hastily, laying a detaining hand on one ragged sleeve.</p> + +<p>Carrots looked at him suspiciously. "D'know what yer got ter say ter +me," he growled.</p> + +<p>"Sit down here, an' I'll tell ye."</p> + +<p>Theodore sat down on the bench as he spoke, and after a moment's +hesitation the other boy dropped down beside him, but he kept a wary +glance on his companion, and was plainly ready to "cut and run" at a +moment's notice.</p> + +<p>"You look's if you were down on your luck," began Theo, with a glance +at the ragged garments, and dilapidated shoes of the other.</p> + +<p>"'Course--I'm always down on my luck," responded Carrots, in a tone +that implied, "what business is that of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Sellin' papers now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but a feller can't make a livin' out o' that. There's too many +kids in the business, an' folks'll buy o' the kids ev'ry time, 'n' +give us big fellers the go-by," Carrots said, in a gloomy tone.</p> + +<p>"That's so. The little chaps always sell most," assented +Theodore. "Why don't you get into some other business, Carrots?"</p> + +<p>"Can't--'cause my money's all tied up in railroad stock," retorted +Carrots, with bitter sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"Carrots, what made ye play such a mean trick on Jim Hunt the other +day?" asked Theodore, suddenly.</p> + +<p>Carrots grinned. "Hunt's a fool," he answered, "else he wouldn't 'a' +give me a chance ter work him so slick."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't think you'll play it on him again. I think you were the +fool, Carrots, for you know well enough you can't get such good stuff +anywhere else for your money, an' now ye can't go to my stand."</p> + +<p>"Got it 'thout money that time," chuckled Carrots, impudently, but +still keeping a sharp eye on his companion.</p> + +<p>Theo flushed, and his fingers itched to pitch into the boy and give +him a good drubbing, but he controlled himself, and said, quietly, +"What's the trouble with you, Carrots? Are you too lazy to work, or +what?"</p> + +<p>The boy's eyes flashed angrily, as he replied, "See here, Tode +Bryan--what ye pokin' yer nose int' my business for, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"'Cause I can put you in the way of earnin' honest money if you're +willin' to do honest work."</p> + +<p>"What sort o' work?" Carrots inquired, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell ye 'bout it when I'm sure you're ready to take hold of it, +an' not before. See here, Carrots, I've seen you lately loafin' 'round +with some o' the meanest fellers in this town, an' if you don't keep +away from them you'll find yourself where some of 'em have been +a'ready--behind the bars. I mean well by ye, an' if you make up your +mind to be a man instead of a tramp an' a loafer, you can come to me, +an' I'll give ye a start. Jim Hunt'll tell ye where to find me."</p> + +<p>The night shadows were falling now and the street lamps were already +lighted, and seeing this, Theodore started up, adding, "It's later'n I +thought. I must be off," and he hurried away, leaving Carrots looking +after him in a much bewildered state of mind.</p> + +<p>Theodore found Nan sitting by the window in the dark. She had rocked +the baby to sleep, and was thinking over the happy afternoon that +seemed now so like a beautiful dream. She lighted her lamp when +Theodore came in, and brought out the food that she had put aside for +him, and while he ate she told him of all that had happened. He did +not eat much and he was very silent, so silent that at last she paused +and said, anxiously,</p> + +<p>"You aren't sick, are you, Theo?"</p> + +<p>"No," he replied, gravely, "an' Nan, I'm real glad you're goin' to +such a nice place." But though he spoke earnestly, there was in his +voice a ring of pain that Nan detected instantly, and guessed its +cause.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to miss you dreadfully, Theo," she said, quickly, "and I +don't know what Little Brother will do without you. That's the one +thing about it that I don't like--to think of you all alone here with +no place to stay evenings."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Scott says I can have a room where he lives--at Mrs. Rawson's," +answered Theodore. "It's a fine room--bigger'n this, an' it's got +checked straw carpet an' three windows."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Theo, how glad I am!" cried the girl, delightedly. "That's just +splendid. Don't you like it?" she added, as the boy still sat with +serious eyes fixed on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Like it? The room you mean? Oh yes, it's a grand room, but I don't +think I'll go there," he answered, slowly.</p> + +<p>The gladness died out of Nan's face. "Oh, Theo, why not?" she +exclaimed, in a disappointed tone.</p> + +<p>He answered again, slowly, "I think I shall stay here an' take this +room o' yours 'stead o' my little one."</p> + +<p>"This is ever so much better than yours, of course, an' if you do that +you can keep my furniture, and I s'pose you'd be comfortable, but +'twould be lonesome all the same, and I shouldn't think you'd like it +half so well as being with Mr. Scott."</p> + +<p>"'Course I wouldn't like it half nor quarter so well, Nan, but this is +what I've been thinkin'. You know there's a good many boys in these +two houses that don't have no place to stay evenin's, 'cept the +streets, an' I was thinkin' as I came home to-night, how fine 'twould +be if there was a room where they could come an' read an' play games +an' talk, kind of a boys' club room, don't ye know, like the one +Mr. Scott was tellin' 'bout they're havin' in some places. I think +he'll help me get some books an' papers an' games, an' maybe he'll +come an' give us a talk sometimes. It would be grand for fellers like +Jimmy Hunt that ain't bad yet, but will be if they stay in the streets +every evenin'."</p> + +<p>"Theo, I think it's a splendid idea, only there ought to be just such +a room for the girls. They need it even more than the boys do." Nan +hesitated a moment, then added, earnestly, "Theo, I'm proud of you."</p> + +<p>Theodore's face was the picture of utter amazement as he gazed at +her. "Proud--of me?" he gasped. "I'd like to know what for."</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind what for, but I want to say, Theo, what I've thought +ever so many times lately. When I first knew you, you were good to +Little Brother and me, so good that I can never forget it, but you +weren't"--</p> + +<p>"I was meaner'n dirt," interposed the boy, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"No, but you'd never had any chance with nobody to teach you or help +you, and I used to hate to have you touch Little Brother, because I +thought you were not good."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't," put in Theodore, sadly.</p> + +<p>"But since you came back from the bishop's you've been so different, +and it seems to me you're always trying to help somebody now. +Theo--if Little Brother lives, I hope he'll be like you." + + +Theodore stared at her in incredulous silence. "Like me. Little +Brother like me," he whispered, softly, to himself, the colour +mounting in his cheeks. Then he arose and walked over to the bed where +the child lay, with one small hand thrown out across the +bedclothes. The soft, golden hair lay in pretty rings on the moist +forehead, but the little face looked waxen white.</p> + +<p>Theodore stood for a moment looking down at the baby, then suddenly he +stooped and kissed the outstretched hand, and then without another +word he went away.</p> + +<p>Nan's eyes were full of tears as she looked after him.</p> + +<p>"How he does love Little Brother," she thought. "He's going to miss +him awfully."</p> + +<p>Monday was a busy day for Mrs. Rawson. She had engaged a seamstress +to finish off Nan's dresses, and having seen the woman settled to her +work, she set off herself for the tenement house, a boy going with her +to carry a small valise.</p> + +<p>She found Nan busy baking bread. The place was very warm and the girl +looked flushed and tired. Mrs. Hunt had carried the baby off to her +cooler rooms.</p> + +<p>"Nan, child, you've not taken up the cooking again?" exclaimed +Mrs. Rawson.</p> + +<p>"I had to do some--not very much," replied the girl, gently.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, I thought you understood that we didn't want you to do +this any more."</p> + +<p>Nan only smiled as she set the last loaf in the oven.</p> + +<p>The lady went on, "Nan--we want you to go away to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Nan looked up with startled eyes. "So soon!" she exclaimed as +Theodore had done.</p> + +<p>"Why should there be any delay about it? Every day that you stay here +is so much actual loss to you and to the baby, too," added Mrs. +Rawson.</p> + +<p>With a bewildered air Nan dropped into a chair, saying, hesitatingly,</p> + +<p>"But how can I get ready to go to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Easily enough, if you let the cooking go. I was wondering as I came +along what you would do with your furniture."</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Rawson's eyes the few poor bits of furniture looked worthless +enough, but she realised that it would seem quite otherwise to the +girl who had bought them with her own hard earnings.</p> + +<p>But now Nan looked up with shining eyes and in eager words told of +Theodore's plan and the lady's face brightened as she listened.</p> + +<p>"It's a fine plan," she replied, heartily, "and it means a deal for +such a boy as Theodore to have thought of it."</p> + +<p>"And when he might have gone to your house, too," added Nan, +softly. "Mrs. Rawson, he'll be very lonely when Little Brother is +gone."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he'll miss you both sadly, but Nan, you mustn't worry about +Theodore. Mr. Scott loves the boy and will look out for him, you may +be sure of that. But now we must talk about your journey. I've brought +the things that I thought you would need on the way, and I'd like you +to try on this dress."</p> + +<p>She lifted the pretty wool suit from the valise as she spoke, and Nan +began to take off her faded calico. The colour rose in her face as she +did so, for she hated to have Mrs. Rawson see her poor under garments, +but the lady seemed not to notice, as she chatted away about the +dress.</p> + +<p>"Fits you beautifully. I was sure it would, for I had all the +measurements. I don't believe you will need to carry many of the +things you have, for there are plenty of the new ones," she said. "I +put into this little valise everything that will be needed for the +journey, and the other things can go with mine."</p> + +<p>Nan looked up quickly, crying out joyfully, "Oh, Mrs. Rawson, are you +going with us?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure. Did you suppose I meant for you to travel alone with a +sick baby? I'm going to stay a week."</p> + +<p>"That's lovely!" exclaimed the girl, with a sigh of relief. "I did +dread to go among entire strangers alone."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Hyde won't be a stranger two minutes after you meet her. You +couldn't help loving her if you should try. Now then, let me see. You +are to be ready at half past nine to-morrow. The train goes at +10:15. I'll stop here for you. Now, child, don't work any more +to-day. Just rest so that you can enjoy the journey. Oh, there's one +thing I came near forgetting--shoes. Those will have to be +fitted. Can you come with me now and get them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if Mrs. Hunt can see to my baking," Nan replied.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt was very ready to do so, and Nan and her new friend were +soon in a car on their way to the shoe store.</p> + +<p>When she returned to her room alone, the girl took out the pretty +serviceable garments from the valise and examined them all with +mingled pain and pleasure. It was a delight to her to have once more +such clothing as other girls wore, but to receive them from strangers, +even such kind strangers as Mrs. Rawson and the girls, hurt Nan more +than a little. But she did not feel quite the same about the dainty +garments for her little brother. Over those her eyes shone with +satisfaction. She could not resist the desire to see how he would look +in them, and when he was dressed she carried him in for Mrs. Hunt to +admire, and the two praised and petted the little fellow to their +hearts' content.</p> + +<p>Theodore had looked forward to a quiet evening with Nan and the +baby--that last evening that they were to spend together for so +long--but it proved to be anything but a quiet one. It had leaked out +that Nan was going away, and all through the evening the women and +girls in the house were coming to say "good-bye." Nan had not +expected this, for she had never had much to do with any of them, and +it touched her deeply when in their rough fashion they wished her a +pleasant summer and hoped that the baby would come back well and +strong.</p> + +<p>Theodore sat silent in a corner through all these leave-takings, and +some of the women, as they went back to their own rooms, spoke of the +loneliness the boy would feel without the baby that they all knew he +loved so dearly.</p> + +<p>When the last caller had departed, Theodore stood up and held out a +little purse to Nan.</p> + +<p>"Ain't much in it, but I want ye to use it for anything <i>he</i> +wants," the boy said, with a gesture toward the child.</p> + +<p>Nan hesitated. She would not have taken it for herself, but she knew +that it would hurt Theo sadly, if she refused his gift, so she took +it, saying, "You've been so good to him always, Theo. I shan't let him +forget you ever."</p> + +<p>"No--don't," muttered the boy, and unable to trust himself to say +more, he turned away in silence, and went to his own room. The little +purse he had given Nan contained five dollars.</p> + +<p>"The dear boy! How good he is to us," Nan murmured, as she put the +bill back into it, "but I hope I shall not need to use this."</p> + +<p>Theodore ran in the next morning for a hasty good-bye before he went +out to his work. He had waited purposely until the last moment, so +that his leave-taking might be a brief one, and he said so little, and +said that little so coldly that a stranger might have thought him +careless and indifferent, but Nan knew better. Now that the time of +departure was so close at hand, she shrank nervously from it and +almost wished she had refused to go, but still she dressed Little +Brother and herself in good season, and was all ready when at nine +thirty, promptly, Mrs. Rawson appeared. The lady gave a satisfied +glance at the two, and then insisted upon carrying the baby downstairs +herself, while one of the Hunt children followed with Nan's valise. A +cab was waiting at the door, and cabs being rarities in that locality, +a crowd of curious children stood gaping at it, and waiting to see Nan +and the baby depart in it.</p> + +<p>"It is going to be a warm day. I shall be glad when we are fairly +off," Mrs. Rawson said, with an anxious glance at the baby's face, as +the cab rattled over the rough stones.</p> + +<p>As the little party entered the station, there was a flutter of light +raiment and bright ribbons, and Nan found herself fairly surrounded by +the eleven King's Daughters. They took possession of the baby, who +brightened up wonderfully at the sight of them, and they seized the +valise and Mrs. Rawson's handbag, and they trooped altogether through +the great station to the waiting train, and instead of saying, "Can't +go through yet, ladies--not till the train's made up," the gatekeeper +smiled in genial fashion into their bright faces and promptly unlocked +the gate for them. That was because one of them was the daughter of a +railroad official, but Nan didn't know that.</p> + +<p>The train was not all ready, but two of the parlor cars were there, +and into one of these the girls climbed, and then they found the seats +belonging to Mrs. Rawson and Nan, and put the extra wraps up in the +rack for them and pushed up the window, and did everything else that +they could think of for the comfort of the travellers.</p> + +<p>Then one of them pinned a great bunch of deliciously fragrant violets +to Nan's dress, and another fastened a tiny silver cross above the +violets, as she whispered,</p> + +<p>"We've made you a member of our circle, Nan, dear, and this is our +badge."</p> + +<p>And then Nan noticed that every one of the girls wore the tiny, silver +cross somewhere about her dress. She wondered what it meant and +determined to ask Mrs. Rawson later, but she could not talk much just +then--she was too happy with all those dear girls about her, +chattering to her and counting her in with themselves.</p> + +<p>At last there was a rumble and a jar, and people began to fill up the +seats in the car and one of the girls looked at her watch and +exclaimed, + + +"We must say 'good-bye' girls, or we shall be carried off."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be fun if we could all go too, and stay for the week with +Mrs. Rawson?" cried another.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. If it weren't for school we might have done it."</p> + +<p>"Now remember, Nan, we're all going to write to you because you belong +to our circle," whispered another, and then, some with a kiss, and +some with a warm handshake, they said, "good-bye," and hastened out of +the car and stood on the platform outside the car windows, calling out +more farewells and last words, and waving hands and handkerchiefs, +until the train drew out of the station.</p> + +<p>Then Nan settled back in her comfortable seat with a happy light in +her dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"I didn't suppose there were any such girls in all the world, +Mrs. Rawson," she said; "girls who would be so dearly kind to a +stranger like me."</p> + +<p>"They certainly are dear girls. I think myself that there are not many +like them," Mrs. Rawson answered. "Some of them have been in my +Sunday-school class ever since they were nine years old."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps that accounts for it," Nan answered, shyly, with one of her +quick, bright smiles. Then she turned to look out of the window and +her face changed, for there on a fence, close beside the track, stood +Theodore, eagerly scanning the windows as the train went by. Nan +snatched up Little Brother and held him to the window, and a smile +broke over the boy's face as he waved his hat in response. Then the +train gathered speed and flew on, and the boy went slowly back to his +work.</p> + +<p>It was nearly sunset when the station where the travellers were to +stop, was reached. Nan's heart began to beat fast and she glanced +around somewhat anxiously as she stepped on to the platform, but the +next moment she found herself looking into Mrs. Hyde's face, and from +that instant all her fears and anxieties vanished.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hyde had no children of her own, but the very spirit of +motherliness seemed to look out of her eyes, and she took the two +strangers into her heart at sight. The baby, wearied with the long +journey had been fretting for the last hour, but no sooner did he find +himself in Mrs. Hyde's arms, than he settled down comfortably and went +to sleep and slept soundly through the three mile drive from the +station.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hyde did not say much to Nan during the drive, only by an +occasional word or smile, showing her that she was not forgotten, +while the two ladies talked together, but at last she laid her firm, +strong hand lightly on the girl's fingers, saying,</p> + +<p>"Look, dear--you are almost home."</p> + +<p>And Nan looked with happy eyes at a big, rambling, white house, shaded +by tall elms, and with wide piazzas on three sides. An old-fashioned +flower garden, with high box-bordered beds was at the back, and broad, +rolling acres, spread out on every side but one, where there was a +grove of grand old trees.</p> + +<p>The late afternoon sunlight was throwing long, level beams across the +green lawn, touching everything with a golden light as they drove up +to the side door, and Nan said to herself,</p> + +<p>"I don't see how anybody could help being well and happy here."</p> + + + +<a name="14"></a> +<h1>XIV. Theodore Gives Carrots a Chance</h1> + +<p>Theodore dreaded to go home that night. After his work was done he +went to a restaurant for supper and then strolled on to the Common. +It was cool and pleasant there under the wide-spreading trees, and he +sat down on one of the benches and wondered what Nan was doing then +and how Little Brother had borne the long hours of travel.</p> + +<p>When it was quite dark he went slowly homeward. Mrs. Hunt's door +stood open and he stopped to get the key which Nan was to leave there +for him. Jimmy sprang up and brought it to him, and Mrs. Hunt gave him +a kind word or two and asked him to come in and sit awhile, but he +said he was tired, and taking the key, he crossed the hall and +unlocked Nan's door. As he closed it behind him he gave a little +start, for he saw something move over by the window. The next instant +he realised that it was only Nan's chair which had rocked a little +from the jar of the closing door. The room was unlighted except for +the faint glimmer near the open windows.</p> + +<p>As Theo sat down in the rocking-chair, a wave of loneliness and +homesickness swept over him. Nan and Little Brother had made all the +home feeling he had ever known, and never before had he felt so +absolutely alone and friendless as he did to-night.</p> + +<p>Tag seemed to share the feeling too. He went sniffing about the room, +evidently searching for the two who were gone, and finally, with a +long breath like a sigh, he dropped down beside the rocking-chair and +rubbed his head against his master's hand with a low, troubled whine. +Theodore patted the rough head as he said,</p> + +<p>"Pretty lonesome, ain't it, old fellow?" and Tag rapped the floor with +his tail and whined again.</p> + +<p>For a long time the boy sat there gravely thinking. At last, with a +sigh, he said to himself, "Might's well go to bed. Don't feel like +doin' anything to-night."</p> + +<p>He was used to undressing in the dark and he did not light the lamp, +but as he was about to get into bed his hand touched something smooth +and stiff that was lying on the pillow.</p> + +<p>"It's a letter," he exclaimed, wonderingly, and he hastened to light +the lamp.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he cried, breathlessly, as he saw the bold, firm +handwriting. "It's from the bishop."</p> + +<p>His cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining and his fingers fairly +shaking with excitement as he held the letter carefully in his hands, +reading and rereading the address.</p> + +<blockquote>"THEODORE BRYAN,<br /> +Care of MRS. MARTIN."</blockquote> + +<p>He thought how many times he had sat beside the bishop's desk and +watched the pen travelling so rapidly across the paper. Theodore would +have known <i>that</i> writing anywhere.</p> + +<p>For a long time he did not open the letter. It was happiness enough to +know that it was there in his hands, the first letter he had ever +received. And to think that the bishop should have written it--to +him, Theodore Bryan! It was a pity that the bishop could not have seen +the boy's face as he stood looking with glowing eyes at the envelope.</p> + +<p>At last he opened it and began to read the letter. It was a long one, +and as the boy read on and on, his breath came quicker and his eyes +grew dim, and when he had finished it his cheeks were wet, but he did +not know it. He was not thinking of himself. There were many who would +have given much for a letter from the bishop, but surely none could +have appreciated one more than did the lonely boy who stood there that +night in the dimly-lighted room poring over those closely written +pages. Again and again he read the whole letter, and many times he +read over one passage until the words were written in letters of light +on his heart. When at last he went to bed it was to lie awake for +hours with the letter held tightly in his hand, while he repeated to +himself those words that he was to remember as long as he lived.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Martin writes me that you are anxious to be assured of my +forgiveness. My dear boy, if you have ever wronged me I forgive you as +freely and fully as I hope for forgiveness myself; but, Theodore, had +you wronged me ever so deeply, it would all be blotted out by the joy +it gives me to know that you are a soldier of the Cross. I know that +you will be a faithful soldier--loyal even unto death--and may the +great Captain whom we both serve, have you ever in His holy keeping."</p> + +<p>Over and over the boy repeated these words as he lay sleepless, but +full of deep happiness and peace. "Whom we both serve." The wise and +holy bishop and he, a poor ignorant street boy, were soldiers now +under the one great Captain. Faithful and loyal even unto death? Ah +yes, Theodore pledged himself anew to such service in the watches of +that night.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the letter had brought to the boy a fresh +disappointment, for it informed him that the bishop had been ill ever +since he left the city, and that it had been decided that he should +remain away until October.</p> + +<p>"Five months longer before I can see him," Theodore thought +sorrowfully, yet he could not grieve as he had done before. It almost +seemed as if he could feel the bishop's hand actually resting upon his +head, and see the kind eyes looking down into his. The boy had not +been so happy since he left the bishop's house as he was on this night +when he had expected to be so lonely and miserable.</p> + +<p>"Oh if Nan only knew, how glad she would be," he thought more than +once.</p> + +<p>He slept at last with the letter clutched tightly in his hand, and his +fingers had not loosed their hold when he awoke the next morning, nor +had the joy died out of his heart. His thoughts were very busy as he +dressed, and suddenly he stopped short, with one shoe on and the other +in his hand.</p> + +<p>"That's it!" he cried aloud. "That's what the bishop meant that +Sunday! 'Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price.' The great +Captain's bought me for one of His soldiers, an' I've got to do what +He says. I never knew before just what that meant, but I do now." Then +he added, softly, "But I want to do what He says, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Going forth in this spirit to his work, Theodore could hardly fail to +find something to do for his Captain.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hunt had decided to take up the work that Nan had been doing, and +to furnish supplies for the stand. She had the big basket all ready +when Theodore came from his room, and he and Jimmy set off with it for +the stand where both the boys now took their breakfasts.</p> + +<p>Theodore was unusually quiet and thoughtful, and there was something +in his face that silenced Jimmy's lively tongue that morning. The two +boys had just gotten their stand ready for business, when Theodore +exclaimed, eagerly,</p> + +<p>"There he is now!" and darted off.</p> + +<p>Jimmy looked after him in wonder that turned to indignation, as he saw +Theo lay a detaining hand on the ragged jacket of Carrots, who was +slouching aimlessly along the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, +and, after a little talk with him, bring him back to the stand.</p> + +<p>"Well now, I like that!" muttered Jimmy under his breath. He glowered +darkly at Carrots as Theo drew him up to the stand, but Theodore +looked into Jimmy's face with a strange light in his eyes, as he +filled a plate for Carrots and poured him out a cup of coffee.</p> + +<p>"Sh'ld think you'd better wait till he'd paid for what he jagged here +that last time," Jimmy muttered, with a scowling glance at the +culprit.</p> + +<p>Carrots, overhearing the remark, grinned, and then winked impudently +at Jimmy, while he disposed with all speed of the contents of the +plate that Theodore had set before him. Once or twice he cast a +puzzled glance at the latter as if trying to discover some hidden +motive.</p> + +<p>"Had 'nough?" Theo questioned, when plate and cup were empty.</p> + +<p>"'Spect I might get outside of one or two o' them doughnuts," Carrots +answered, with another wink at Jimmy's clouded face.</p> + +<p>When the doughnuts also had disappeared, Theo said, "Come along a bit +with me, Carrots," and the two walked off together, leaving Jimmy for +the first time savagely angry with his friend Theodore.</p> + +<p>Carrots slouched along at Theo's side, with his narrow eyes roving +suspiciously from side to side in search of a possible policeman, into +whose hands he suspected that his companion might be scheming to +deliver him. He could not conceive the possibility of anybody's +failing to avenge a wrong if he had the chance.</p> + +<p>"Carrots," began Theodore, "where do you sleep?"</p> + +<p>"Can't catch me that way," thought Carrots to himself, as he answered +carelessly, "Oh anywheres 't I happen ter find myself when I'm +sleepy."</p> + +<p>"No reg'lar place--no home?" questioned Theo.</p> + +<p>"Nope."</p> + +<p>"Well, I've paid rent up to the end of the month for the room I've +been sleepin' in, an' I shan't use it any more. You can sleep there +for nothin' for the next week if you like."</p> + +<p>Carrots stopped short and gazed at his companion with his tongue in +his cheek.</p> + +<p>"Think I'm a fool?" he asked, shortly.</p> + +<p>"I do' know whether ye are or not. 'Seems to me you will be 'f ye say +'no' to my offer," and Theo looked straight into the shifty eyes of +his companion.</p> + +<p>That straightforward look puzzled Carrots. It was more convincing than +any words. He studied Theo's face for a moment, then he burst out, +"What's your game, anyhow, Tode Bryan?"</p> + +<p>"Carrots," exclaimed Theo, earnestly, "there's no game at all about +it. I've got the room, an' I don't need it, 'cause I've taken another +one. You're welcome to use this till the month's up. Now, what d'ye +say? Will ye take it or leave it?"</p> + +<p>"I'll--take--it," rejoined Carrots, slowly.</p> + +<p>"All right." Theo gave him the number, adding, "Come to my room +anytime 'fore ten for the key."</p> + +<p>Then he hurried on, leaving Carrots in a maze of wonder, doubt and +indecision, for he could not yet believe that Theo meant honestly by +him.</p> + +<p>As for Theo, he whistled cheerily as he hastened on, for he felt that +he had been doing a bit of his Captain's business. He was not in the +least deceived. He knew that Carrots was a "bad lot," as he expressed +it, but he said to himself, "I was a bad lot, too, not so very long +ago, an' I'll see if I can't do something for Carrots while I'm +a-huntin' for that Jack Finney."</p> + +<p>Jimmy Hunt was on the lookout for Theodore that evening, and pounced +upon him the moment he appeared. Jimmy's face was still clouded, and +he made no response to his friend's cheery greeting. "I say, Theo," he +began, "I'd like to know what you meant by it, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble, Jimmy? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"What <i>d'you</i> mean by luggin' that thievin', sarcy Carrots over +t' the stand this mornin' an' stuffin' him with grub, an' never askin' +him for a red cent?" Jimmy spoke in a deeply aggrieved tone.</p> + +<p>"You won't lose anything by it, Jim. That comes out o' my share of the +profits," Theo answered, quickly.</p> + +<p>"'Tain't that," responded Jimmy, hastily. "I wouldn't 'a' minded if it +had been any other feller but him. Say, Theo, what did make ye do it +anyhow? Think ye might tell me that."</p> + +<p>Theodore looked down into the face lifted to his, half curiously, half +impatiently. "Jimmy," he said, gravely, "wouldn't you be glad if +somebody would lend a hand to Dick and help him make a man of +himself?"</p> + +<p>Jimmy flushed. He was ashamed of his brother and mortified by Dick's +evil reputation.</p> + +<p>"'Course," he answered, shortly, dropping his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, Jimmy, I'd help Dick if I could, an' there's another feller +I've been huntin' for ever so long. 'Seem's if I can't find him +anywheres, an' so till I <i>do</i> find him, I'm a-goin' to try to +pull Carrots up 'stead of him."</p> + +<p>"Pull Carrots up!" echoed Jimmy, scornfully. "Tode, you must be soft +if you expect to make anything out o' such a bad lot as Carrots."</p> + +<p>"There's a good spot in most chaps, I b'lieve, Jimmy, an' I guess +there's one in Carrots, if I can only find it. Anyhow, I'm a-goin' to +try for a while."</p> + +<p>"Huh!" growled Jimmy. He said no more, but after this he watched Theo +and Carrots closely, and did a deal of earnest thinking on the +subject.</p> + +<p>Carrots slept in Theodore's room for the next week--slipping softly up +and down the stairs, with furtive, suspicious glances into every dark +corner in the halls at night, and departing in the same fashion before +Theo was up in the morning. He uttered no word of gratitude, but Theo +knew better than to expect anything of that sort.</p> + +<p>One night when he came in, Theodore sat with his door wide open, and +called out pleasantly,</p> + +<p>"Come in a minute, Carrots."</p> + +<p>The boy paused on the threshold until he had satisfied himself that +there was no one else in the room, then he sidled in and dropped +heavily on a chair.</p> + +<p>"Wal', what's wanted?" he inquired, gruffly.</p> + +<p>"Like to earn a little extra money to-morrow?" Theodore began.</p> + +<p>"That depends."</p> + +<p>"Depends on what?"</p> + +<p>"On the kind o' work."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should think you'd be ready for any kind of work," Theodore +remarked, with a quick glance at the ragged garments of the other.</p> + +<p>Carrots grinned, carelessly. "Oh I ain't a swell like you," he +replied, casting, what he meant for a scornful look at the other boy's +clean outing shirt and decent suit. Theodore had reached the point now +where he had at least one clean shirt a week.</p> + +<p>He ignored the remark and went on, "There's plenty of fellers that +would be glad of this job, but I want to give you the first chance at +it. Jimmy Hunt's goin' on an excursion to-morrow, an' can't run the +stand. You can run it if you want to."</p> + +<p>Carrots gazed at him with mouth and eyes wide open.</p> + +<p>"Me?" he exclaimed, incredulously. "You mean't you'll let me run +it--alone--'thout you bossin' the job?"</p> + +<p>Theo nodded.</p> + +<p>Carrots' mouth slowly stretched into a grin of mingled satisfaction +and derision, as he exclaimed, "All right. I'm your man!"</p> + +<p>"Then be ready to go with me at half past six," replied Theo. Then he +added, "Look here--what's your real name? Tain't Carrots I know. If +you'll tell me what 'tis I'll call you by it."</p> + +<p>"Do' want none o' yer callin'! Carrots's good 'nough for me, an' if +I'm suited, other folks needn't ter interfere," growled the boy, with +renewed suspicion.</p> + +<p>"No need to get huffy 'bout it," rejoined Theodore. "It put me up a +peg when folks begun to call me Theodore 'stead of Tode or Toady, an' +so I thought you'd feel the same way. 'Course, if you like to be +Carrots, nobody cares."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" grunted Carrots, and departed without further discussion of +the matter.</p> + +<p>He was waiting in the hall when Theodore opened his door the next +morning and assisted handily enough about carrying the big basket and +arranging the stand. He did not, however, believe that Theo meant to +leave him actually in charge, until he found himself established +behind the neat counter with fifty cents in nickels and pennies in his +pocket, to make change.</p> + +<p>"Wal', I'm blest!" he exclaimed, and then he grinned and chuckled and +slapped his sides with glee, while Theodore went off, thinking to +himself,</p> + +<p>"It's a risk, but I had to give him his chance."</p> + +<p>Many times during that morning he thought of Carrots and wondered how +he was getting on. It was a hot day and an unusually tiresome one for +Theodore, and it was later than usual when he returned to his +room. Before he had closed the door Jimmy Hunt ran across the hall +calling out,</p> + +<p>"Say, Theo, where's the baskets an' things?"</p> + +<p>Theodore's heart sank, but he answered quietly, "Haven't they been +brought back?"</p> + +<p>"No. Who'd you get to run the stand, Theo?"</p> + +<p>"Carrots."</p> + +<p>"Theodore Bryan--you <i>didn't</i>!" exclaimed Jimmy, in such a tragic +tone, that Theo almost laughed outright. His amusement was the last +straw to Jimmy. He burst into a storm of scornful blame in the midst +of which Theo quietly stepped into his room and shut the door, leaving +Jimmy to fume and storm as much as he chose. That brought the boy to +himself. He began to cool down and to remember, that after all, the +stand belonged to Theodore, and he had a right to do as he pleased +with it. So after standing in the hall, kicking at the banisters for a +while, to relieve his feelings, Jimmy knocked at the closed door and +in response to Theo's "come in," he went in, in a somewhat calmer +state of mind.</p> + +<p>"What you goin' to do in the mornin', Theo?" he began, in a subdued +tone.</p> + +<p>"Have you been to the stand, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, an' that scamp after he'd sold all the stuff went to work an' +auctioned off the dishes an' coffee-urn an' everything. Just skinned +the place out slick," Jimmy burst out, indignantly. "I went 'round to +see where the baskets was, an' some fellers told me all about it. They +said 'twas a red-headed chap done it, but I <i>couldn't</i> b'lieve +you'd be green 'nough to trust that Carrots. Say, Theo, did you +re'ely think he'd do the square thing, by you?"</p> + +<p>"Not much. I hoped he would an' I had to give him a chance, Jimmy?"</p> + +<p>"Why'd you have to?" asked Jimmy, curiously.</p> + +<p>"Where would I be now if somebody hadn't given me a chance, Jimmy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you--you ain't Carrots. You're another sort."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm another sort now, but I was bad as Carrots before I met Nan +an' Little Brother," answered Theo, earnestly. Then he added, "Don't +you worry 'bout the stand. I'll go out presently an' buy what's +wanted."</p> + +<p>"An' ain't ye going to do nothin' ter that Carrots for this, neither?" +inquired Jimmy, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No, nothing. But, Jimmy, don't fret yourself about him. If he keeps +on as he's been doin', he'll soon find himself locked up."</p> + +<p>"'N' he'd oughter be too," muttered Jimmy, as he went away, leaving +Theodore to think over the failure of his attempt. He was not much +surprised, though he had not expected quite such a clean sweep on +Carrots' part, and the loss was not heavy enough to embarrass him at +all. At Mr. Scott's suggestion, Theo had begun to deposit his extra +earnings in a savings bank and he had enough on hand to easily replace +the dishes and utensils lost, but he was disappointed and +disheartened. It seemed so useless to try to help one who would not +try to help himself. And yet he could not be quite discouraged since +he always remembered what he himself had once been.</p> + +<p>He went out and bought what was needed and when he came back he found +Mr. Scott just turning away from his door. He hastened to unlock it +and the gentleman turned back, saying,</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you came before I had got away, Theodore, for I want to talk +over that boys' club plan with you."</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd forgot all about it," replied the boy, his face +brightening.</p> + +<p>He had spoken to his teacher about this plan, and Mr. Scott had +answered, "Yes, something of the sort may be done, but if I were in +your place I wouldn't be in a hurry about it," and so the matter had +been left.</p> + +<p>Now Mr. Scott looked thoughtfully about the room, saying, "You must +find this far more comfortable than the room you had before. Don't +you sleep better here, Theo?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I don't feel so tired in the morning."</p> + +<p>"No, because you have the windows here and can have better air; but, +Theo, do you realise how it would be if you should use this for a +club-room? Some of the boys would be here every evening, and you'd +have to have lights burning, and by the time you were ready to go to +bed, the room would be very hot and stuffy--full of bad air. Besides +you would have to be here all the time. You couldn't trust such boys +in your room alone."</p> + +<p>Theodore thought of Carrots, and his face was grave and disturbed as +he answered, slowly, "'Spect you're right, Mr. Scott, but I do hate to +give up the plan."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we won't give it up, only change it a little. Have you ever +been in the large front room, upstairs?"</p> + +<p>Theodore shook his head, with a look of surprise, that his teacher +should know anything about the rooms upstairs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott added, "Well then, suppose you come up with me now, and take +a look at it. I have the key."</p> + +<p>Wondering much, the boy followed his teacher up the stairs to a large +room with two windows on each side.</p> + +<p>"How would this do for your clubroom, Theodore?" Mr. Scott inquired.</p> + +<p>"This? Oh, this would be fine--but Mr. Scott, it would cost a pile +for this."</p> + +<p>"Rather more than for yours, of course, but now this is the way of it, +Theodore. I liked your plan about the club, but I didn't like the idea +of your giving up your own room to it, so I spoke to several gentlemen +of my acquaintance about the matter, and they all wanted to have a +hand in it. So they each gave me a sum of money, and then I +interviewed your landlord and rented this room. He is going to have it +whitewashed, and then we shall have the floor thoroughly scrubbed and +outside blinds put on these sunny windows. Then we shall put in some +tables and chairs and some plain pine shelves for the books and papers + +that we are going to collect from our friends, and if you like, some +of us will give the boys a talk on current events once a week or so."</p> + +<p>"What's current events?" interposed Theo, quickly.</p> + +<p>"You'll soon find out. Now then, Theo, we must have somebody to take +charge of this room. Can you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"You know that means that you must be here every evening in the week, +from half past seven to ten o'clock. You'll want to be away sometimes, +Theodore."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I s'pose I will, but I'm ready to stay here all the same until +night school begins again."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then we'll let it be so, and we'll try to have the room +ready for our opening in a week or two--as soon as we have enough +books and papers to begin with." Mr. Scott locked the door as he +spoke, and the two went downstairs.</p> + +<p>Theodore's face was full of satisfaction over the promised +reading-room, but it clouded a little as his teacher said,</p> + +<p>"You mustn't be disappointed, Theodore, if very few boys spend their +evenings in this room for a while. Most of the boys in this +neighbourhood are so used to loafing about the streets, that they like +that best, especially in hot weather, and, of course, few of them care +much for reading. They will have to be educated up to it."</p> + +<p>"S'pose that's so," replied the boy, thoughtfully, "but they'll like +it next winter when it's cold an' stormy outside," he added.</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented the gentleman, adding, as he turned to depart, "Theo, +Mrs. Rawson will be home to-morrow. Don't you want to come and take +supper with us, and hear what she has to say about Nan, and the little +one?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, thank you, sir," cried Theodore, with a happy smile.</p> + +<p>"All right, then, we shall expect you," and with a pleasant +"Good-night," Mr. Scott went away.</p> + +<p>Theodore rather dreaded the supper with Mrs. Rawson, but he forgot to +be shy or ill at ease when she began to tell him about the delightful +old farmhouse, and the happy times that Nan and the baby were having +there. She told him everything she could think of that would be of +interest to him, and he listened to it all with an eager face, and a +glad heart. If Little Brother must be far away from him, Theodore was +happy in the assurance that the child was in such a beautiful place, +and that already he had begun to grow stronger and brighter.</p> + + + +<a name="15"></a> +<h1>XV. A Strike</h1> + +<p>"No cars a-runnin'! What's up?" exclaimed Jimmy, the next morning, as +he and Theodore passed down Tremont street.</p> + +<p>"There's a strike on. Didn't you hear 'bout it yesterday?" replied +Theo.</p> + +<p>"No. My! But there'll be a time if all the cars stop."</p> + +<p>"A pretty bad time--'specially for the folks that live outside the +city," Theodore answered, soberly.</p> + +<p>When, after taking his breakfast at the stand, he went back through +Tremont street, groups of men and boys were standing about in every +corner, and everywhere the strike was the one topic of conversation. +There were groups of motormen and conductors here and there, some +looking grave and anxious, and some careless and indifferent.</p> + +<p>As the morning advanced the throngs in the streets increased. Belated +business men hurried along, and clerks and saleswomen with flushed +faces and anxious eyes, tried impatiently to force their way through +the crowds to get to their places of business.</p> + +<p>Theodore noticed the large number of rough-looking men and boys on the +streets, and that most of them seemed full of suppressed excitement. +Now and then as he passed some of these, he caught a low-spoken +threat, or an exultant prophecy of lively times to come. It all made +him vaguely uneasy, and he had to force himself to go about his work +instead of lingering outside to see what would happen.</p> + +<p>In one office, while he was busy over the brasses, three gentlemen +were discussing the situation, and the boy, as he rubbed and polished, +listened intently to what was said.</p> + +<p>"What do the fellows want? What's their grievance, anyhow?" inquired +one man, impatiently, as he flicked the ashes from his cigar.</p> + +<p>"Shorter hours and better pay," replied a second.</p> + +<p>"Of course. That's what strikers always want," put in a third. "They +seem to think they're the only ones to be considered."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must confess that I rather sympathise with the men this +time," said the second speaker. "I hold that they ought to have +shorter hours."</p> + +<p>"There are plenty that will be glad enough to take their places, +though."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so, but all the same I maintain that these companies that +are amply able to treat their men better, ought to do so. I believe in +fair play. It pays best in the end to say nothing of the right and +wrong of it."</p> + +<p>"Think the company will give in?" questioned one.</p> + +<p>"Guess not. I hear that the superintendent has telegraphed to New York +and Chicago for men."</p> + +<p>"There'll be trouble if they come!" exclaimed the first speaker.</p> + +<p>"I believe," said another man, joining the group, "I believe that +Sanders is responsible for all this trouble--or the most of it, +anyhow. He's a disagreeable, overbearing fellow who--even when he +grants a favor, which is seldom enough--does it in a mean, +exasperating fashion that takes all the pleasure out of it. I had some +dealings with him once, and I never want anything more to do with +him. If he'd been half-way decent to the men there would never have +been any strike, in my opinion."</p> + +<p>Sanders was the superintendent of the road where the trouble was.</p> + +<p>"You're right about Sanders," said another. "I always have wondered +how he could keep his position. These strikes though, never seem to me +to do any real good to the cause of the strikers, and a great many of +the men realise that too, but these walking delegate fellows get +'round 'em and persuade 'em that a strike is going to end all their +troubles--and so it goes. I saw that little sneak--Tom Steel--buttonholing +the motormen, and cramming them with his lies, as I came along just +now. There's always mischief where Tom Steel is."</p> + +<p>By this time Theodore had finished his work, and he left the office, +his head full of strikes, superintendents, and walking delegates, and +wherever he went that day, the strike was the only subject discussed.</p> + +<p>He stopped work earlier than usual, finding himself infected with the +prevailing unrest and excitement. He found the sidewalks of the +principal business streets thronged with men, women and boys, all +pressing in one direction.</p> + +<p>"Come along, Tode!" cried a shrill voice at his elbow, and he turned +to find Jimmy Hunt, his round face all alight with anticipation of +exciting episodes to follow. Jimmy began talking rapidly.</p> + +<p>"They've been smashin' cars, Tode, an' haulin' off the motormen an' +conductors that want to keep on workin'. There's three cars all +smashed up near the sheds, an' the strikers say they'll wreck every +one that's run out to-day."</p> + +<p>"It's a shame!" declared Theo, indignantly; yet boy-like, if there was +to be a mob fight, he wanted to be on hand and see it all, and he took +care not to let Jimmy get far ahead of him.</p> + +<p>As they went on, the crowd continually increased until it became so +dense that the boys had to worm their way through it inch by inch. +They pressed on, however, and when further progress was impossible, +they found standing room on the very front close to the car-track.</p> + +<p>It had been a noisy, blustering crowd as it surged along the street, +but now that it had come to a standstill, a sudden breathless silence +fell upon it, and all eyes turned in one direction, gazing eagerly, +intently up the track. Suddenly, a low, hoarse cry broke from a +hundred throats.</p> + +<p>"It's comin'! It's comin'!" and far up the street a car appeared.</p> + +<p>The faces of the men grew more hard and determined. Those of the +women became pale and terrified. The two boys peered eagerly forward, +their hearts beating quickly, with dread mingled with a sort of wild +excitement.</p> + +<p>"Look, Theo--Look!" whispered Jimmy, pointing to some men who were +hastily digging up cobble-stones from the street. "There's Carrots, +too," he added.</p> + +<p>"Wonder who that little chap is--the one that seems to have so much to +say to the car men," Theo replied, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"That's Tom Steel. You've heard of him, hain't ye?" A man at Theo's +elbow was speaking. "He's responsible for this strike, I think, an' I +hope he'll get his pay for it too," he added, grimly.</p> + +<p>Theodore glanced up into the grave face of the speaker and recognised +him as a motorman. Evidently, he was more bitter against the strikers +than against the company.</p> + +<p>The car was now close at hand, and all at once as with a single +impulse, there was a surging forward, and the crowd closed in blocking +the track with a solid mass of human beings. The motorman set his +teeth hard, and rang the gong loudly, insistently. The conductor +hastened through the car and stood beside him. The only passenger was +a policeman, who stood on the rear platform calmly gazing at the sea +of angry, excited faces on either side.</p> + +<p>"This car's got to stop!" shouted a big, brawny fellow, springing onto +the step and giving the motorman a threatening glance.</p> + +<p>"This car ain't a-goin' to stop!" retorted the motorman, grimly, as he +released the brake.</p> + +<p>"We'll see about that," and with the words the big fellow seized the +man's arms and wrenched his hand off the lever.</p> + +<p>The conductor sprang to the assistance of his comrade while the +policeman ran forward and pushed the man roughly off the car.</p> + +<p>In the same instant, Theo saw Carrots snatch a box from a bootblack +near him and with a wild yell of defiance, hurl it through one of the +car windows. The shrill, taunting cry of the boy, mingled with the +crash of the breaking glass, and the sight of the policeman's upraised +club, aroused the mob to sudden fury. At once there arose a wild +hubbub of shouts, yells and cries, followed by a shower of +cobble-stones, and a fierce rush upon the three men on the car, and in +two minutes the car was a shattered wreck; the motorman and conductor +were being hustled through the crowd with threats and warnings, while +the policeman's club had been wrenched from his grasp. He drew his +pistol, but with a howl of fury it was knocked from his hand, and the +next moment he lay senseless upon the ground, felled by a savage blow +from his own club.</p> + +<p>The taste of conflict, the sight of blood, had roused to a fierce +flame the smouldering spirit of lawlessness and insurrection in the +mob. A savage rage seemed to have taken possession of the men as, with +frantic haste and mad delight, they tore up cobble-stones and built a +huge barricade across the track. When it was completed, Carrots darted +up on top of it and waved a red handkerchief above his head. A hoarse +roar of approval broke from the mob, but Steel sternly ordered the boy +down and hissed in his ear,</p> + +<p>"You fool! You might have spoiled everything by that! Don't ye show +that again till I give the signal--d'ye hear?"</p> + +<p>Carrots nodded with an evil gleam in his narrow eyes, that made Theo +shiver.</p> + +<p>"Come on, now. We've done enough for once," Steel added, and keeping +his hand on the arm of the boy the two disappeared in the throng that +was slowly melting away.</p> + +<p>Then, with a long breath, Jimmy turned to Theodore.</p> + +<p>"My!" he exclaimed, in a tone of shuddering satisfaction. "It's awful, +ain't it, Theo! S'pose he's dead?" He gazed with half fearful interest +toward the policeman who had been clubbed and about whom a group had +gathered.</p> + +<p>"Looks like it. There comes some more p'lice. They'll take care of +him. Come on, Jimmy, le's go home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Theo, don't go home, yet. Le's go an' see what's goin' on +over there," and Jimmy turned into a cross street through which the +greater portion of the crowd was pressing.</p> + +<p>"There's something the matter over at the depot," said Theodore, as he +followed, half willingly and half reluctantly, in Jimmy's eager +footsteps.</p> + +<p>About the depot there was usually a constant stream of cars coming and +going, but to-day the streets looked bare and deserted.</p> + +<p>When the boys reached the square only two cars were in sight and these +two were approaching, one behind the other, on the same track. As they +drew near, they were seen to contain each six or eight policemen, +fully armed and with stern, resolute faces. The mob again howled and +hooted at the motormen and conductors, and showered them with dirt and +small stones, but made no attempt to stop the cars.</p> + +<p>No cars were run after dark that evening, and the next day they were +run only at intervals of an hour and each one carried a heavily armed +guard. The strikers and their lawless sympathisers continued to throng +the streets and to threaten all car-men who remained on duty. Now and +then a car window was broken or an obstruction placed on the tracks, +but there was no serious outbreak, and it was rumoured that a +compromise between the company and the strikers was under +consideration and that the trouble would soon be at an end.</p> + +<p>So a week slipped away. One morning Theodore was on his way from one +office to another when he heard the sound of drum and fife and saw a +body of the strikers marching up Washington street. Every boy within +sight or hearing at once turned in after the procession, and Theodore +followed with the rest.</p> + +<p>It was about ten o'clock in the morning and the streets were full of +shoppers, many of them ladies who had been afraid to venture out +during the past week.</p> + +<p>As if they had risen out of the ground, scores of rough-looking men +and street boys began to push and jostle the shoppers on the narrow +sidewalks until many of the frightened women took refuge in the +stores, and the shopkeepers, fearful of what might follow, began +hastily putting up their shutters and making ready to close their +stores, if necessary. These signs of apprehension gave great delight +to the rougher element in the streets, and they yelled and hooted +uproariously at the cautious shopkeepers, but they did not +stop. Steadily, swiftly they followed that body of men marching with +dark, determined faces to the sound of the fife and the drum.</p> + +<p>"Where are they going?" Theo asked of a man at his side and the reply +was,</p> + +<p>"To the car-house, I reckon. They're ripe for mischief now."</p> + +<p>"What's stirred 'em up again--anything new?" the boy questioned.</p> + +<p>"Many of the strikers have been discharged and new men brought +on--five hundred of them--from New York and Chicago. I'm afraid we +haven't seen the worst of the troubles yet."</p> + +<p>"Look! Look!" cried a boy, close beside Theodore, and the latter +looking ahead, saw a squad of mounted officers coming through a cross +street. Without stopping to parley they charged into the marching +strikers and dispersed them, silencing the fife and drum, and when the +furious mob of followers and sympathisers yelled threats and defiance +at the officers, the latter charged into the mob riding up to the +pavement and forcing the people back into the stores and dwellings +behind them.</p> + +<p>This was as fuel to the fire of anger and insurrection. Deep and dire +threats passed from lip to lip, and evil purpose hardened into grim +determination as the mob slowly surged in the direction of the +car-house, after the officers had passed on. The throng was far more +quiet now, and far more dangerous. Again and again, Theodore caught +glimpses of Tom Steel's insignificant face, and like a long, dark +shadow, Carrots followed ever at his heels.</p> + +<p>No cars were running now, but the boy heard low-spoken references to +new men and "scabs," and "the will of the people," as, almost without +effort of his own, he was borne onward with the throng.</p> + +<p>At a little distance from the car-house the strikers again drew +together and stood mostly in gloomy silence, their eyes ever turning +toward the closed doors of the great building before them. The vast +crowd waited, too, in a silence that seemed to throb and pulse with +intense and bitter feeling. The strikers had stopped in the middle of +the street, and around them on every side, except toward the +car-house, the crowd pressed and surged like a vast human sea. There +were not many women in the number gathered there, and the few who were +there were of the lowest sort, but men and boys--largely tramps, +roughs and street boys--were there in countless numbers, mingled with +not a few of the better class.</p> + +<p>Slowly the minutes passed, until an hour had gone by, and it began to +be whispered about that the company dared not run any cars. Still the +men waited, and the crowd waited too. But at last some grew weary of +inaction, and when Steel proposed that they spend the time barricading +the tracks, his suggestion met with a quick response.</p> + +<p>From a neighbouring street the men brought Belgian blocks and piled +them on the track. They pulled down tree boxes and broke off branches +of trees, and when an ice wagon came along they took possession of the +huge blocks of ice and capped their barricade with these.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the doors of the car-house were thrown open, and a car rolled +slowly out.</p> + +<p>There was an instant of breathless silence, followed by a roar like +that of a thousand savage beasts, as the strikers saw that new men +were running the car, and that it carried half a score of policemen, +armed to the teeth.</p> + +<p>As it approached the barricade some of the officers sprang off and +began to throw down the obstructions, the others standing ready to +fire upon the mob if necessary. The crowd showered bitter words and +taunts upon the officers, but did not venture to molest them. The +motorman stood with his hand on the lever, ready to start the car the +moment the track should be clear. Carrots, with a pack of street Arabs +at his heels, jeered at the new motorman, climbing up on the car and +taunting him, until, at last, his patience was exhausted, and he +suddenly lifted his foot and kicked one of the boys off the car. The +boy fell heavily to the ground, and instantly the shrill voice of +Carrots was uplifted, crying frantically,</p> + +<p>"He's killed Billy Green! He's killed Billy Green! Pitch in to him, +boys! Pitch into him!"</p> + +<p>Billy Green was already picking himself up, with no worse injury than +a cut in his cheek, but the mob took up the cry, and,</p> + +<p>"Pitch into him! Pitch into him! Kill him! Kill him!" was shouted by +hundreds of savage voices as the crowd pressed about the car. They +tried to drag the motorman off, in spite of the guards, they smashed +the car windows, they tore out the cushions, they beat the policemen, +and wrenched their clubs out of their hands. Finally several of the +officers drew their pistols and fired into the air.</p> + +<p>At this the crowd fell back for a second, and the turmoil of shouts +and cries that had been deafening a moment before, died away in sudden +silence--a threatening, dangerous silence as of a wild beast about to +spring.</p> + +<p>Into this instant of silence broke a new cry from the outskirts of the +crowd.</p> + +<p>"It's the mayor. Make way for the mayor!"</p> + +<p>"No, it's the bishop. Make way for the bishop! Stand back! Stand +back!"</p> + +<p>At this cry, Theodore turned like a flash and gazed in the direction +in which all eyes were turning. There was no mistake. The bishop was +surely one of the occupants of a carriage that was slowly forcing its +way through the throng.</p> + +<p>With his heart beating with a wild joy; his eyes glowing; the colour +coming and going in his cheeks, Theodore stood still until the +carriage stopped. Then sliding through the smallest spaces, darting +between feet, this way and that, the boy managed somehow to reach the +side of the carriage, where he stood with his hand on one of the +wheels, his eager, burning gaze fastened on the face he loved so +well. Instinctively he pulled off his cap, but he made no attempt to +attract the attention of the bishop. He uttered no word or sound. He +only stood with all his loving heart in his eyes, and looked.</p> + +<p>The bishop's expression was very grave, as he gazed over that vast sea +of faces. He turned to speak to the gentleman who sat beside him, and +as he did so, his eyes fell on Theodore's eloquent upturned +countenance. A quick, bright smile flashed across his face, and +reaching down, he laid his hand for a moment gently upon the boy's +bared head.</p> + +<p>Before he could speak the silence was again broken by a cry from many +lips--a cry of warning now, rather than a threat, though again the +words were,</p> + +<p>"Stop the car! Stop the car! The bishop! The bishop!"</p> + +<p>The bishop's carriage had come to a standstill directly across the +track, the crowd being here so dense that it was impossible for the +driver to go even a yard farther.</p> + +<p>The policemen had cleared the barricade from the track, and then +sprung hastily on the car again. Evidently they had not noticed the +dangerous position of the carriage, and now the motorman started the +car forward. The man was a stranger in the city. He knew nothing about +the bishop--cared nothing about him. He was there to run that car, and +he meant to do it or die in the attempt, so when the crowd shouted,</p> + +<p>"The bishop! The bishop!" he yelled in reply,</p> + +<p>"Get out of the way then if you don't want him hurt. This car's +a-going through, bishop or no bishop!"</p> + +<p>The car was already in motion. The crowd pushed and struggled and +tried to fall back and let the carriage pass over the track, but it +was impossible, so closely were the people packed together there.</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="images/5.png" alt="[Illustration: Stop the car!]" /></p> + +<p>On the car came, while for an instant the crowd waited with tense +breath for what should follow.</p> + +<p>"Loyal unto death." The words rang through Theodore's brain, as in +that instant he sprang swiftly forward and flung himself across the +track directly in front of the slowly moving car. A cry of horror +broke from the throng and a score of hands were stretched forth to +draw the boy from his dangerous position, but he clung to the fender +and would not be removed.</p> + +<p>"Stop the car!" he pleaded. "Oh stop the car or the bishop will be +killed!"</p> + +<p>Never a thought of his own danger had the boy,--for he would have +given his young life freely and joyfully for his bishop, but the +sacrifice was not needed. The police, now seeing the danger, forced +the furious motorman to stop the car until the crowd had had time to +fall back and the carriage had safely crossed the track. Then the car +passed on followed by threatening glances and menacing words from the +angry throng.</p> + +<p>But now the bishop arose in the carriage, and as he stood in the +majesty of his great height with the light of a pure heart and a holy +life illumining his face--once again a hush fell upon that vast +gathering, and when the rich voice rolled out upon the still air, +uttering its message of heavenly love, and strong, sweet counsels of +peace and justice, the hearts of the people were melted within +them. Hard, brutal men and rude street boys listened, feeling a +strange power that they could not understand, thrilling their souls, +and compelling them, in spite of their own wills, to follow the +counsels of this servant of God.</p> + +<p>No other man in that great city was honoured and loved by rich and +poor alike, as was the bishop. To no other would such a crowd in such +a mood have hearkened, but they stood in silence and listened +breathlessly as if they feared to lose a single word. They listened as +if they knew that never again would such a message come to them from +those lips. Stern, bitter faces softened, and hard eyes dimmed with +tears as the burning, melting words fell on the listening ears. Women +wept, and men forgot their hatreds and their grievances. Only here and +there an evil face grew more evil as the bishop's words worked upon +the hearts and consciences of that vast throng.</p> + +<p>Tom Steel dropped his mask of careless indifference, as he tried to +stem the tide by whispering sneers and taunts to one and another, but +they would have none of his counsels now, and after a while he slunk +away with a black scowl on his face and evil words on his lips, and +still beside him slouched the gaunt, ragged figure with its crown of +rough red hair; and no one bade them stay; no one listened to their +wicked whispers, for the bishop's words were filling every ear and +every heart.</p> + +<p>At last, the bishop stretched forth his hands and pronounced a tender +blessing upon them all, and then he drove slowly away, and when he was +gone rough men looked into each other's faces, half wondering, half +ashamed, as they moved away. They had no desire now for rioting and +lawlessness--for deeds of blood and violence. The Spirit of God had +touched their hearts. The atmosphere in which the bishop lived and +moved and had his being had for the time enveloped even these. No +wonder then, that it had wrought such a transformation in the heart +and life of one little street boy.</p> + +<p>That same night two hundred of the city clergymen united in an appeal +to the company to submit the troubles to arbitration, and to this both +the company and the strikers agreed. The result was that although all +that the men asked was not granted, yet their hours were shortened, +and an increase of pay promised at the beginning of the year.</p> + + + +<a name="16"></a> +<h1>XVI. Called to Go Up Higher</h1> + +<p>As for Theodore--when the bishop's carriage had driven away he went +home in a state of joyous expectation. He thought how he would go, on +the morrow, to the bishop's house, and of the long talk they two would +have together, when he would tell his friend all that he had so often +longed to tell him. He knew well how interested the bishop would be in +all that he--Theodore--was trying to do for the Great Captain, and he +longed to talk over his work and his plans with one so wise and so +experienced.</p> + +<p>On his way home he stopped and bought some linen collars and cuffs and +a neat necktie.</p> + +<p>"'Cause I want to look as well's I can when he sees me," he said to +himself.</p> + +<p>All that evening he thought of that visit which he would make the next +day. He realty <i>could</i> not wait any longer, but he found it hard +to decide what would be the best hour for him to go. He knew that the +bishop was very often away in the evening, or if at home he was almost +sure to have guests with him. In the afternoon, too, he seldom had a +leisure moment. Indeed he never had any leisure moments, but Theodore +decided at last that the best time to see him would be between twelve +and one o'clock.</p> + +<p>All night, in his dreams, he saw himself making his way to the house +and once he awoke in great distress, imagining that Brown had sternly +refused him admittance.</p> + +<p>He could not work that next morning, but he wanted somebody else to +share his happiness, and so to all the sick and shut-in ones in the +two houses, he carried some little gift. It was his thank-offering, +though he did not know it. Small gifts they were, all--a flower to +one, a newspaper to another, some oranges to a sick woman, an extra +loaf to a hard-working mother--little things all, but given in the +name of the Great Captain though His Name was not once mentioned.</p> + +<p>So, many kindly thoughts followed the boy when, at noon, he went once +more through the streets toward the bishop's house.</p> + +<p>Theodore's face had little of beauty, but the glance of his grey eyes +was honest and true. He was able now to possess two suits and he wore +his best one with the clean linen and the new tie. Many a mother might +have been proud that day to call this boy of the streets, her son.</p> + +<p>The remembrance of his dreams sent a shiver over Theodore as he rang +the bell at the bishop's door, but Brown did not refuse him +admittance. On the contrary he smiled faintly and held open the door +as he said, in a low tone, "Come to Mrs. Martin's room," and once +again Theodore followed him across the wide hall.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin gave him a cordial welcome, but a great dread fell upon +the boy as he noted her red eyes and subdued manner, and when she +said,</p> + +<p>"He talked about you last evening, Theodore, and told us what you did +for him. You've come to ask how he is, haven't you?" the boy's heart +sank and he dropped into the nearest chair with his eyes fixed +entreatingly on the housekeeper's face. His throat felt dry and stiff, +and he dared not trust himself to speak. Mrs. Martin too, sat down and +wiped her eyes as she went on,</p> + +<p>"He ought not to have gone out to speak to those strikers +yesterday. He wasn't well enough, and I told the gentlemen so when +they came for him, but as soon as he heard what they wanted he said he +would go. He came home all tired out, and he was taken sick in the +night."</p> + +<p>Theodore tried in vain to frame a question with his trembling +lips. The housekeeper guessed what he would have asked and answered as +if he had spoken.</p> + +<p>"It's some heart trouble and the doctors say he cannot live."</p> + +<p>At these words, Theodore's head went down on the table and he sat as +if stunned. His trouble seemed to him too great even for belief. Eight +months before it had seemed terrible to him to know that the width of +the continent separated him from his friend. Now, what a joy it would +have been to him to know that the bishop was alive and well in +California.</p> + +<p>At last he lifted his head and asked in a low voice,</p> + +<p>"How long?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin understood. She answered, sadly, "A few days--possibly +only a few hours. He lies as if he were asleep, but it is not sleep. I +think," she added, with a glance at the boy's heart-broken face, "I +think you can see him for a moment if you would like to."</p> + +<p>Theodore nodded and the housekeeper added, "Come then," and led the +way to an upper room.</p> + +<p>The boy followed with such an aching heart as he had never imagined +that a boy could have.</p> + +<p>The sick room was darkened and a nurse sat by the bedside. Theodore +stood for a moment looking down on the face so dear to him, and so +changed even in the few hours since last he saw it. He longed to press +his lips to the hand that lay outstretched on the white coverlet, but +he did not dare, and after a moment he turned and left the room in +silence.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin followed him down the stairs. At the door he stopped and +looked at her, tried to speak but could not, and so went away without +a word. He knew that never again should he see his friend alive, and +he did not. Before the next night, the bishop had been called to go up +higher.</p> + +<p>When the announcement of his death appeared in the papers there was a +request that no flowers be sent. Theodore did not notice this item, +and so on the day of the funeral he carried to the house some of the +roses that he knew the bishop had loved most, and Mrs. Martin herself +placed them in the cold hand that a few days before, had been laid +upon Theodore's head. All the gold of the earth, had it been offered +to the boy, could not have purchased from him the sweet memory of that +last look and touch.</p> + +<p>On the day of the funeral, the church where the service was held was +crowded, and the streets without were filled with a throng as vast as +that to which so short a time before, the bishop had spoken, but what +a difference was there in look and manner between the two great +gatherings! Here, every face was softened, every heart tender with +grief. They called him "our bishop," and they felt that they had lost +one who loved them--one who was indeed their friend.</p> + +<p>But not one, whether within or without the church, not one grieved +more deeply for the grand, beautiful life so suddenly cut off than did +the lad who stood without and listened to the solemn tones of the +great organ, and watched with eyes dim with tears as the black-draped +coffin was borne out to its burial. The boy stood there until the last +of the long line of carriages had passed him; then he stepped forward +and, alone and on foot, he followed to the cemetery.</p> + +<p>When all was over, he went sorrowfully homeward, feeling as if there +was a great blank in his life--a blank that could never be filled; +that the world could never again seem bright to him; but that evening +Mr. Scott came, and his affectionate sympathy comforted the boy's sore +heart. His teacher made him feel that now, more than ever, he must be +"the bishop's shadow." To Theodore, his small ministries to the +forlorn and suffering ones about him, seemed, indeed, as nothing when +he recalled the wide-reaching labours of the bishop, but as the days +went on these small ministries grew to be the joy of his life.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott, watching him closely, saw how week by week he became more +unselfish and thoughtful for others; more eager to help any who needed +his help. It was a grief to the boy that one whom he most longed to +help seemed for a time beyond his reach, and this was Carrots.</p> + +<p>Four of the ringleaders in the riotous proceedings of the strike had +been arrested, tried and sentenced to two years in the penitentiary. +Of this number were Tom Steel, and Carrots, whose red banner had more +than once caught the eye of the police.</p> + +<p>Jimmy Hunt openly rejoiced, feeling that Carrots had got his deserts +at last, but Theodore was troubled and disheartened over the +matter. He went to see the boy in prison, and found him as gruff and +surly as ever, yet he was sure that, when he came away, the eyes of +Carrots followed him wistfully. He did not go again to the prison but, +though he was no more fond of letter-writing than are most boys of +fourteen, yet, during those two years of Carrots' imprisonment, never +a month passed in which he did not receive a long, cheery letter from +Theodore. He never replied to any of these letters, but as Theodore +expected no replies, that made no difference.</p> + + + +<a name="17"></a> +<h1>XVII. Final Glimpses</h1> + +<p>As the evenings lengthened, the club grew in favour among the boys of +the neighbourhood, and often Mr. Scott wondered to see how Theodore +succeeded in maintaining good order and in keeping up the interest of +the boys, without setting them against him. He was full of ingenious +ideas for interesting them in something helpful, and, as he expressed +it, "lifting 'em up a peg." He grew to be exceedingly popular in the +neighbourhood that winter, but he never discovered the fact. He was +too busy thinking of and for others, to think much about himself.</p> + +<p>After a while he gave up all interest in his stand to Jimmy Hunt and +devoted himself wholly to his brass-polishing business. It outgrew his +own time and strength before the New Year, and then he hired boys to +work for him, and he spent his time superintending their work and +extending his list of employers. He paid the boys as liberally as he +could, but he would tolerate no loafing or careless work, so that at +first he had some trouble in getting satisfactory assistants, but once +secured, they seldom left his employ. The time came when he had a +long list of such employees, and when a large part of the brass work +in the city was under his care--but this was later.</p> + +<p>Nan and Little Brother did not come back to the city in the +fall. Mr. Scott had never intended that they should if he could +prevent it.</p> + +<p>Long before the summer was over, Nan had taken a daughter's place in +Mrs. Hyde's childless home and Little Brother had become the cherished +pet of the household. So warm and deep was the love given to them both +that even Nan's sensitive pride could not object to remaining there +where she knew that she could give as much as she received in love and +service, and with a glad and grateful heart she abandoned all thought +of returning to the city, and knew that she had at last found a real +home.</p> + +<p>But she did not forget her older friend, Theodore, and she told her +new friends so much about him that they desired to see and know him +also. So it came about that one of her letters to him contained a +cordial invitation from Mrs. Hyde for him to spend Thanksgiving week +at her home.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott gladly agreed to attend to the club-room and to keep an eye +on the polishing business as far as he could, so Theodore accepted the +invitation and began to look forward with delight to seeing Little +Brother and Nan again.</p> + +<p>He could hardly realise that it was he himself--poor Theodore +Bryan--who, one bright November morning, sat in the swift-flying car +and looked out on the autumn landscape on his way to spend +Thanksgiving as Mrs. Hyde's guest, and to see again the two whom he +loved to call his "folks."</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="images/2.png" alt="[Illustration: Thanksgiving reunion.]" /></p> + +<p>As the train drew near the station at which he was to stop, Theo +wondered who would meet him. He hoped Nan would. Indeed, he felt sure +that she would, for, of course, Mrs. Hyde would not know him any more +than he would know her. + + +So, as the cars ran along by the platform, he gazed eagerly out of the +car window, and he felt a little chill of disappointment because Nan +was nowhere in sight. There was a comfortable carriage in waiting for +somebody. He thought that it might be Mrs. Hyde's--but no, that could +not be, either, for a big, rosy-cheeked laddie, with mischievous blue +eyes, sat on the seat, flourishing a whip in true boyish fashion. That +didn't look much like heavy-eyed, white-lipped Little Brother, and +there was not a girl anywhere in sight, except a tall, handsome one in +a beautiful grey suit, trimmed with fur. This girl stood near the +carriage and seemed to be watching for some one.</p> + +<p>"I do wish Nan had come to meet me," Theo thought, as he stepped off +the train, and then the tall girl in the grey suit was looking eagerly +into his face, with both hands outstretched, crying,</p> + +<p>"Oh, Theo! How glad I am to see you!" and he was seated in the +carriage with that rosy-cheeked, merry-faced little laddie, between +him and Nan, before he fairly realised that this was Little Brother, +grown well and strong, as even Nan had not dared hope he would do in +so few months.</p> + +<p>And he had not forgotten his old friend either--Little Brother had +not,--or, if he had, he renewed the friendship very speedily, and +during Theo's stay the two were as inseparable as of old.</p> + +<p>It was a happy week for Nan, for she could see how Theodore had been +growing in the best ways during the months of their separation, and +she was not a bit disappointed in him, but proud to have her new +friends know him. And, as for the boy, it was a glimpse into a new +life for him--that week in a lovely Christian home. He made up his +mind that, sometime, he would have just such a home of his own, and he +went back to the city well content to leave these two in such tender +hands and amid such delightful surroundings.</p> + +<p>Through all the winter that followed, Theodore was busy and +happy. When the night-school began, he coaxed Mr. Hunt to take charge +of the clubroom, for Theodore wanted to learn and fit himself for +better work by and by, and with such a purpose he made rapid progress +in his studies.</p> + +<p>But, busy as he was, he still found time for his Saturday evening work +for the florist, that he might continue his Sunday flower mission, for +he knew that those few blossoms were all of brightness and beauty that +ever entered into some of those shut-in, poverty-pinched lives about +him.</p> + +<p>Then, at Christmas time, Mr. Scott and Mrs. Rawson and the King's +Daughters Circle helped him prepare a Christmas tree in the clubroom; +a tree that bore a gift for every child and woman in the two +houses. The children almost went wild over that, the first Christmas +tree that many of them had ever seen; and then the eleven girls in +their pretty winter dresses served all the company with cake and +cream.</p> + +<p>Theodore was too happy and busy to eat his share, but that was all +right, for Teddy Hunt had no trouble at all in disposing of two +portions.</p> + +<p>When the last candle had ceased to glimmer among the green branches, +and the last bit of cake and spoonful of cream had disappeared, the +company slowly and lingeringly departed, already looking forward to +just such another Christmas three hundred and sixty-five days +later. Then with many a "Merry Christmas" to Theodore, the girls and +Mrs. Rawson took their departure, and Mr. Scott followed them, only +stopping a moment, to say,</p> + +<p>"We left your Christmas gift in your room, my boy. I hope you will +like it."</p> + +<p>Wondering what his gift might be, the boy put out the lights and +locked the clubroom door and hurried down to his room, remembering +then that his teacher had asked for his key earlier in the evening.</p> + +<p>The key was in the door now, and there was a light in the +room. Theodore pushed open the door and then stopped short with a cry +of delighted surprise, for he never would have recognised this as the +bare little room he had left.</p> + +<p>A neat rug covered the floor, fresh shades hung at the windows; a +white iron bedstead with fluffy mattress and fresh white bedding stood +where the old bedstead had been, and in place of the pine table and +chairs were a neat oak bureau, and a washstand with toilet set and +towels, three good, comfortable chairs and a desk that made Theo's + +eyes shine with delight. But best of all was a picture that hung on +the wall facing the door--a picture of the bishop with that tender +look in the eyes that the boy remembered so well.</p> + +<p>On a card, slipped in the corner of the frame, was written,</p> + +<p>"From Nan and Little Brother," and Theodore, as he looked and looked, +felt that there was nothing left for him to desire.</p> + +<p>He was still standing in the middle of the floor, gazing at the +picture, when there was a knock at the door and as he opened it in + +flocked the eleven girls with Mrs. Rawson and Mr. Scott behind them.</p> + +<p>"Do you like it, Theodore?"</p> + +<p>"We <i>couldn't</i> go home till we saw you here," they exclaimed, and +laughed and chattered joyously when they saw that the boy was too +pleased and delighted for any words, and then they went away with +their own hearts full of the joy of giving, to write a circular letter +to Nan telling her all about it.</p> + +<p>After this the winter passed quietly to Theodore. He was well and +strong, and he was busy day and evening, and he was as happy a boy as +could be found in all that city.</p> + +<p>And the weeks and months slipped away until two years had gone by, and +it was time for Carrots to be released.</p> + +<p>Theodore ascertained the day and hour when he would leave the +penitentiary and met him at the very gate with a warm and friendly +greeting, and took him at once to his own room.</p> + +<p>He searched the pale face of the boy, wondering whether there really +was in it a change for the better, or not. It seemed to him less +sullen and more thoughtful than it had been two years before, but he +was not sure. Certainly, Carrots was very quiet. It seemed almost as +if he had forgotten how to talk. He looked about Theo's neat, +comfortable room, evidently noting the changes there, but he made no +comment.</p> + +<p>Theodore had set out a table with a good supper for the two, and +Carrots ate as if he enjoyed the food. When the meal was ended, he +leaned back in his chair, and as he looked straight into Theodore's +eyes, said slowly,</p> + +<p>"What made ye do it, Tode?"</p> + +<p>"Do what--bring you here to supper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, an' write all them letters to me, an'--an' everything?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Carrots, it's this way. I served another fellow an' awful mean +trick once, and I've been trying mighty hard to find him, and make it +up to him, but I haven't found him yet, and so I've tried to do a +little for you instead of him--don't you see?"</p> + +<p>Carrots nodded, and Theo fancied that he looked a little disappointed.</p> + +<p>"Then 'twasn't really me you wanted to help?" he said, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'twas, too," answered Theo, quickly. "I'd have done what I +could for you, anyhow, Carrots, but I do <i>wish</i> I could find +him," he added, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"What's his name?" inquired Carrots.</p> + +<p>"Jack Finney."</p> + +<p>"What?" exclaimed the boy, staring at Theodore as if he could not +believe his ears.</p> + +<p>"Jack Finney," repeated Theo, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never! Tode--<i>I'm</i> Jack Finney."</p> + +<p>"You?" cried Theodore, starting up excitedly. "You Mrs. Russell's +Jack Finney?"</p> + +<p>The boy nodded again. "I guess so. I was in her class in the mission +school."</p> + +<p>Theo's face was all alight as he exclaimed, "Oh, Carrots--no, Jack, +I'll never call you Carrots again--Jack, I'm too glad for anything! +And now look here, Jack Finney, you've <i>got</i> to be the right kind +of a chap from this on. I won't let you go wrong. I <i>can't</i> let +you go wrong, Jack. It--it seems as if it'll be all my fault if you +do."</p> + +<p>And Jack, looking again straight into Theodore's eyes, answered +slowly, "I guess I've had 'bout enough o' crooked doin's. If you'll +stand by me, I'll make a try on the other line, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"I'll stand by you every time, Jack," cried Theodore, earnestly.</p> + +<p>And he did, through months of alternate hope and discouragement, for +Jack did not find the upward road an easy one. There were the bad +habits of years always pulling him down, and there were old companions +in evil ever ready to coax him back to their company, and more than +once they succeeded for a while; but Theodore would not give him up, +and in the end, the boy had his reward, for Jack Finney became his +fellow-soldier under the Great Captain, and his faithful helper in his +loving ministry among Christ's little ones.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bishop's Shadow, by I. T. 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T. Thurston + +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: The Bishop's Shadow + +Author: I. T. Thurston + +Posting Date: October 7, 2012 [EBook #8413] +Release Date: July, 2005 +First Posted: July 8, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BISHOP'S SHADOW *** + + + + +Produced by Dave Maddock and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE BISHOP'S SHADOW + +BY + +I.T. THURSTON + +_Author of "Boys of the Central," "A Genuine Lady" etc._ + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY M. ECKERSON + + + + + + + +"This learned I from the shadow of a tree +That to and fro did sway upon a wall, +Our shadow selves--our influence--may fall +Where we can never be." + + + +CONTENTS + + I. LOST--A POCKETBOOK + + II. NAN'S NEW HOME + + III. AN ACCIDENT + + IV. TODE MEETS THE BISHOP + + V. IN THE BISHOP'S HOUSE + + VI. TODE'S NEW START + + VII. AFTER TODE'S DEPARTURE + +VIII. THEO'S SHADOW WORK + + IX. THEO IN TROUBLE + + X. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT + + XI. THEO'S NEW BUSINESS + + XII. NAN FINDS FRIENDS + +XIII. NAN'S DEPARTURE + + XIV. THEODORE GIVES CARROTS A CHANCE + + XV. A STRIKE + + XVI. CALLED TO GO UP HIGHER + +XVII. FINAL GLIMPSES + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + THEODORE BRYAN, SIGN-POLISHER + + "HE'S AWAKIN' UP, I GUESS" + + ADRIFT AGAIN + + "OH, HOW PRETTY,--HOW PRETTY IT IS!" + + "STOP THE CAR!" + + THANKSGIVING REUNION + + + + +THE BISHOP'S SHADOW + + +[Illustration: Theodore Bryan, Sign-Polisher] + + + +I. LOST--A POCKETBOOK + + +It was about ten o'clock in the morning and a northeast storm was +raging in Boston. + +The narrow crooked business streets were slippery with mud and +thronged with drays and wagons of every description, which, with the +continual passing of the street cars, made it a difficult and often a +dangerous matter to attempt a crossing. + +The rain came in sudden driving sheets, blotting out all but the +nearest cars or vehicles, while the wind seemed to lie in wait at +every corner ready to spring forth and wrest umbrellas out of the +hands of pedestrians at the most critical points in the crossings. + +Two ladies coming along Causeway street by the Union Depot, waited +some minutes on the sidewalk watching for an opening in the endless +stream of passing teams. + +"There! We shan't have a better chance than this. Come on now," one of +them exclaimed, stepping quickly forward as there came a little break +in the moving line. She stepped in front of two cars that had stopped +on parallel tracks and her companion hastily followed her. Just then +there came a fierce gust that threatened to turn their umbrellas +inside out. The lady in front clutched hers nervously and hurried +forward. As she ran past the second car she found herself almost under +the feet of a pair of horses attached to a heavy wagon. The driver +yelled angrily at her as he hastily pulled up his team; a policeman +shouted warningly and sprang toward her, and her friend stopped short +with a low cry of terror. But though the pole of the wagon grazed her +cheek and the shock threw her almost to the ground, the lady recovered +herself and hurried across to the sidewalk. + +It was then that a little ragged fellow of perhaps thirteen, slipped +swiftly under the very feet of the horses, and, unheeding the savage +shouts of the driver, wormed his way rapidly through the crowd and +vanished. As he did so, the lady who had so narrowly escaped injury, +turned to her friend and cried, + +"Oh my pocketbook! I must have dropped it on the crossing." + +"On the crossing, did you say?" questioned the policeman, and as she +assented, he turned hastily back to the street, but the cars and teams +had passed on and others were surging forward and no trace of the +pocketbook was visible. The policeman came back and questioned the +lady about it, promising to do what he could to recover it. + +"But it's not probable you'll ever see a penny of the money again," he +said. "Some rascally thief most likely saw ye drop it an' snatched it +up." + +The policeman was not mistaken. If he had turned through Tremont and +Boylston streets he might have seen a ragged, barefooted boy +sauntering along with his hands in his pockets, stopping now and then +to look into a shop window, yet ever keeping a keenly watchful eye on +every policeman he met. The boy looked as if he had not a penny in +those ragged pockets of his, but one of his grimy hands clutched +tightly the lost pocketbook, which his sharp eyes had seen as it fell +beneath the feet of the horses, and which he had deftly appropriated +as he wriggled through the mud. + +Heedless of wind and rain the boy lounged along the street. It was not +often that he found himself in this section of the city, and it was +much less familiar to him than some other localities. He seemed to be +wandering aimlessly along, but his restless eyes were on the watch for +some retired spot where he might safely examine his prize and see how +much money he had secured. For a long time he saw no place that seemed +to him a safe one for his purpose, so he went on and on until suddenly +he realised that he was tired. He was passing a large brownstone +church at the moment, and he sat down on the steps to rest. + +"My! But this is a gay ol' church!" he thought, as he looked curiously +at the beautiful building. "Wonder where them steps go to." + +Springing up he ran across the pillared porch to the foot of the stone +stairs that led to the upper entrance to the chapel. Following a +sudden impulse he started hastily up these stairs, his bare feet +making no sound. At the top of the stairs he found himself shut in on +two sides by a high stone balustrade, the chapel door forming the +third side. This door was closed. He tried it softly and found it +locked. Then he dropped down in the darkest corner of the landing, +and, with eyes and ears still keenly alert, pulled from his pocket the +mud-stained purse and examined it carefully. He found in it thirty-six +dollars in bills and about a dollar more in silver. + +The boy gave a gleeful, silent laugh. "Struck it rich this time," he +said to himself. + +He hunted up a crooked pin from somewhere about his dilapidated +garments, and fastened the roll of bills as securely as he could +inside the lining of his jacket, keeping the silver in his pocket. +Then he again examined the book to be sure that he had overlooked +nothing. On the inside of the leather was the name, + +"R. A. RUSSELL," + +and there was also a card bearing the same name and an address. The +card he tore into tiny bits and chewed into a pellet which he tossed +over the stone balustrade. Then, with the pocketbook in his hand, he +looked about him. There was a pastor's box fastened beside the +door. He crowded the telltale book through the opening in the top of +this box, and then with a satisfied air ran blithely down the stone +steps. But he stopped short as he came face to face with the sexton +who was just crossing the porch. + +"Here, you! Where've you been? What you been up to?" cried the man, +clutching at him angrily, but the boy was too quick. + +He ducked suddenly, slipped under the sexton's hands and darted across +the porch and down the steps. Then he stopped to call back, + +"Be'n makin' 'rangements ter preach fer ye here next Sunday--yah! +yah!" and with a mocking laugh he disappeared leaving the sexton +shaking his fist in impotent wrath. + +The boy ran swiftly on until he had gotten quite a distance from the +church; then he slackened his pace and began to plan what he should do +next. The sight of a confectioner's window reminded him that he was +hungry, and he went into the store and bought two tarts which he ate +as he walked on. After that he bought a quart of peanuts, two bananas +and a piece of mince-pie, and having disposed of all these he felt +hungry no longer. + +Having in his possession what seemed to him a small fortune, he saw no +necessity for working, so that night he did not go as usual to the +newspaper office for the evening papers, but spent his time loafing +around the busiest corners and watching all that went on about the +streets. This unusual conduct attracted the attention of his cronies, +and a number of newsboys gathered about him trying to find out the +reason of his strange idleness. + +"I say, Tode," called one, "why ain't ye gettin' yer papers?" + +"Aw, he's come into a fortune, he has," put in another. "His rich +uncle's come home an' 'dopted him." + +"Naw, he's married Vanderbilt's daughter," sneered a third. + +"Say, now, Tode, tell us w'at's up," whispered one, sidling up to +him. "Hev ye swiped somethin'?" + +Tode tried to put on an expression of injured innocence, but his face +flushed as he answered, shortly, + +"Come, hush yer noise, will ye! Can't a chap lay off fer one day +'thout all the town pitchin' inter him? I made a dollar extry this +mornin'--that's all the' is about it," and stuffing his hands into his +pockets he marched off to avoid further comment. + +For the next week Tode "lived high" as he expressed it. He had from +three to six meals a day and an unlimited amount of pie and peanuts +besides, but after all he was not particularly happy. Time hung heavy +on his hands sometimes--the more so as the boys, resenting his living +in luxurious idleness, held aloof, and would have nothing to do with +him. He had been quite a leader among them, and it galled him to be so +left out and ignored. He began to think that he should not be sorry +when his ill-gotten money was gone. He was thinking after this fashion +one day as he strolled aimlessly down a side street. It was a quiet +street where at that hour there was little passing, and Tode lounged +along with his hands in his pockets until he came to a place where the +sidewalk was littered with building material and where a large house +was in course of construction. Perhaps the workmen were on a strike +that day. At any rate none of them were about, and the boy sprang up +onto a barrel that was standing near the curbstone, and sat there +drumming on the head with two pieces of lath and whistling a lively +air. + +After a little his whistle ceased and he looked up and down the street +with a yawn, saying to himself, + +"Gay ol' street, this is! Looks like everybody's dead or asleep." + +But even as he spoke a girl came hastily around the nearest corner and +hurried toward him. She looked about fourteen. Her clothes were worn +and shabby but they were clean, and in her arms she carried a baby +wrapped in a shawl. She stopped beside Tode and looked at him with +imploring eyes. + +"Oh can't you help me to hide somewhere? Do! Do!" she cried, with a +world of entreaty in her voice. + +The boy glanced at her coolly. + +"What ye want ter hide for? Been swipin' somethin'?" he questioned, +carelessly. + +The girl flashed at him an indignant glance, then cast a quick, +frightened one behind her. + +"No, no!" she exclaimed, earnestly. "I'm no thief. I'm running away +from old Mary Leary. She's most killed my little brother giving him +whiskey so's to make him look sick when she takes him out +begging. Look here!" + +She lifted the shawl that was wrapped about the child. Tode leaned +over and looked at the little face. It was a pitiful little face--so +white and thin, with sunken eyes and blue lips--so pitiful that it +touched even Tode's heart, that was not easily touched. + +"The ol' woman after ye?" he asked, springing down from the barrel. + +"Yes, yes! Oh, do help me," pleaded the girl, the tears running down +her cheeks as she gazed at the baby face. "I'm afraid he's going to +die." + +The boy cast a quick glance about him. + +"Here!" he exclaimed, "squat down an' I'll turn this over ye." + +He seized a big empty barrel that stood near. Without a word the girl +slipped to the ground and he turned the barrel over her, kicking under +the edge a bit of wood to give air. The next moment he stooped down to +the opening and whispered, + +"Hi! The ol' lady's a comin'. Don't ye peep. I'll fix her!" + +Then he reseated himself again on the barrelhead and began to drum and +whistle as before, apparently paying no heed to the woman who came +along scolding and swearing, with half a dozen street children +following at her heels. She came nearer and nearer but Tode drummed on +and whistled unconcernedly until she stopped before him and exclaimed +harshly, + +"You boy--have you seen a girl go by here, with a baby?" + +"Nope," replied Tode, briefly. + +"How long you be'n settin' here?" + +"'Bout two weeks," answered the boy, gravely. + +The woman stormed and blustered, but finding that this made no +impression she changed her tactics and began in a wheedling tone, + +"Now, dearie, you'll help an ol' woman find her baby, won't ye? It's +heartbroke I am for my pretty darlin' an' that girl has carried him +off. Tell me, dearie, did they go this way?" + +"I d' know nothin' 'bout yer gal," exclaimed Tode. "Why don't ye scoot +'round an' find her 'f she's cleared out?" + +"An' ain't I huntin' her this blessed minute?" shrieked the woman, +angrily. "I b'lieve ye _have_ seen her. Like's not ye've hid her +away somewheres." + +Tode turned away from her and resumed his drumming while the woman +cast a suspicious glance at the unfinished building. + +"She may be there," she muttered and began searching through the piles +of building material on the ground floor. + +"Hope she'll break her ol' neck!" thought Tode, vengefully, as he +whistled with fresh vigor. + +The woman reappeared presently, and casting a threatening glance and a +torrent of bad language at the boy, went lumbering heavily down the +street with the crowd of noisy, curious children straggling along +behind her. + +When they had all disappeared around the corner of the street, Tode +sprang down and putting his mouth to the opening at the bottom of the +barrel whispered hastily, + +"Keep still 'til I see if she's gone sure," and he raced up to the +corner where he watched until the woman was out of sight. Then he ran +back and lifted the barrel off, saying, + +"It's all right--she's gone, sure 'nough." + +The girl cast an anxious glance up and down the street as she sprang +up. + +"Oh dear!" she exclaimed. "I don't know where to go!" and Tode saw +that her eyes were full of tears. + +He looked at her curiously. + +"Might go down t' the wharf. Ol' woman wouldn't be likely ter go +there, would she?" he suggested. + +"I don't think so. I've never been there," replied the girl. "Which +way is it?" + +"Come on--I'll show ye;" and Tode set off at a rapid pace. + +The girl followed as fast as she could, but the child was a limp +weight in her arms and she soon began to lag behind and breathe +heavily. "What's the matter? Why don't ye hurry up?" exclaimed the +boy with an impatient backward glance. + +"I--can't. He's so--heavy," panted the girl breathlessly. + +Tode did not offer to take the child. He only put his hands in his +pockets and waited for her, and then went on more slowly. + +When they reached the wharf, he led the way to a quiet corner where +the girl dropped down with a sigh of relief and weariness, while he +leaned against a post and looked down at her. Presently he remarked, + +"What's yer name?" + +"Nan Hastings," replied the girl. + +"How'd she get hold o' ye?" pursued the boy, with a backward jerk of +his thumb that Nan rightly concluded was meant to indicate the Leary +woman. + +She answered slowly, "It was when mother died. We had a nice home. We +were not poor folks. My father was an engineer, and he was killed in +an accident before Little Brother was born, and that almost broke +mother's heart. After the baby came she was sick all the time and she +couldn't work much, and so we used up all the money we had, and mother +got sicker and at last she told me she was going to die." The girl's +voice trembled and she was silent for a moment; then she went on, "She +made me kneel down by the bed and promise her that I would always take +care of Little Brother and bring him up to be a _good_ man as +father was. I promised, and I am going to do it." + +The girl spoke earnestly with the light of a solemn purpose in her +dark eyes. + +Tode began to be interested. "And she died?" he prompted. + +"Yes, she died. She wrote to some of her relatives before she died +asking them to help Little Brother and me, but there was no answer to +the letter, and after she died all our furniture was sold to pay the +doctor and the funeral bills. The doctor wanted to send us to an +orphan asylum, but Mary Leary had worked for us, and she told me that +if we went to an asylum they would take Little Brother away from me +and I'd never see him any more, and she said if I'd go home with her +she'd find me a place to work and I could keep the baby. So I went +home with her. It was a horrid place"--Nan shuddered--"and I found out +pretty soon that she drank whiskey, but I hadn't any other place to +go, so I had to stay there, but lately she's been taking the baby out +every day and he's been growing so pale and sick-looking, and +yesterday I caught her giving him whiskey, and then I knew she did it +to make him look sick so that she would get more money when she went +out begging with him." + +"An' so you cut an' run?" put in Tode, as the girl paused. + +[Illustration: "He's awakin' up, I guess."] + +"Yes--and I'll _never_ go back to her, but--I don't know what I +_can_ do. Do you know any place where I can stay and work for +Little Brother?" + +The dark eyes looked up into the boy's face with a wistful, pleading +glance, as the girl spoke. + +"I'd know no place," replied Tode, shrugging his shoulders +carelessly. He did not feel called upon to help this girl. Tode +considered girls entirely unnecessary evils. + +Nan looked disappointed, but she said no more. + +"He's wakin' up, I guess," remarked Tode, glancing at the baby. + +The little thing stirred uneasily, and then the heavy, blue-veined +lids were lifted slowly, and a pair of big innocent blue eyes looked +straight into Tode's. A long, steadfast, unchildlike look it was, a +look that somehow held the boy's eyes in spite of himself, and then a +faint, tremulous smile quivered over the pale lips, and the baby hands +were lifted to the boy. + +That look and smile had a strange, a wonderful effect on +Tode. Something seemed to spring into life in his heart in that +instant. Up to this hour he had never known what love was, for he had +never loved any human being, but as he gazed into the pure depths of +those blue eyes and saw the baby fingers flutter feebly toward him, +his heart went out in love to the child, and he held out his arms to +take him. + +Nan hesitated, with a quick glance at Tode's dirty hands and garments, +but he cried imperiously, + +"Give him here. He wants to come to me," and she allowed him to take +the child from her arms. As he felt himself lifted in that strong +grasp, Little Brother smiled again, and nestled with a long breath of +content against Tode's dirty jacket. + +"See--he likes me!" cried the boy, his face all aglow with the +strange, sweet delight that possessed him. He sat still holding the +child, afraid to move lest he disturb his charge, but in a few minutes +the baby began to fret. + +"What's he want?" questioned Tode, anxiously. + +Nan looked distressed. "I'm afraid he's hungry," she replied. "Oh +dear, what _shall_ I do!" + +She seemed ready to cry herself, but Tode sprang up. + +"You come along," he exclaimed, briefly, and he started off with the +child still in his arms, and Nan followed wonderingly. She shrank back +as he pushed open the door of a restaurant, but Tode went in and after +a moment's hesitation, she followed. + +"What'll he take--some beef?" inquired the boy. + +"Oh no!" cried Nan, hastily, "some bread and milk will be best for +him." + +"All right. Here you--bring us a quart o' milk an' a loaf o' bread," +called Tode, sharply, to a waiter. + +When these were brought he added, "Now fetch on a steak an' a oyster +stew." + +Then he turned with a puzzled look to Nan. "How does he take it? D'ye +pour it down his throat?" he asked. + +"No, no!" cried Nan, hastily, as he seized the bowl of milk. "You must +feed it to him with a spoon." + +"All right!" and utterly regardless of the grinning waiters Tode began +to feed the baby, depositing quite as much in his neck as in his +mouth, while Nan looked on, longing to take the matter into her own +hands, but afraid to interfere. Suddenly Tode glanced at her. + +"Why don't ye eat?" he said, with a gesture toward the food on the +table. The girl coloured and drew back. + +"Oh I can't," she exclaimed, hastily, "I ain't--I don't want +anything." + +"Ain't ye hungry?" demanded Tode in a masterful tone. + +"N--not much," stammered Nan, but the boy saw a hungry gleam in her +eyes as she glanced at the food. + +"Y'are, too! Now you jest put that out o' sight in a hurry!" + +But Nan shook her head. "I'm no beggar," she said, proudly, "and some +time I'm going to pay you for that," and she pointed to the bowl of +bread and milk. + +"Shucks!" exclaimed the boy. "See here! I've ordered that stuff an' +I'll have it to pay for anyhow, so you might's well eat it. _I_ +don't want it," and he devoted himself again to the child. + +Nan turned her head resolutely away, but she was so hungry and the +food did smell so good that she could not resist it. She tasted the +oysters and in three minutes the bowl was empty, and a good bit of the +steak had disappeared before she pushed aside her plate. + +"Thank you," she said, gratefully. "It did taste _so_ good!" + +"Huh!" grunted Tode. This was the first time in his life that anybody +had said "thank you" to him. + +He handed the baby over to Nan and, though he had said he was not +hungry, finished the steak and a big piece of pie in addition and then +the three left the restaurant. + + + +II. NAN'S NEW HOME + + +As they went out, Nan looked anxiously from side to side, fearing to +see or be seen by the Leary woman. Tode noticed her troubled look and +remarked, + +"Ye needn't ter fret. _I_ wouldn't let her touch ye. We might's +well go back to the wharf," he added. + +So they returned to the corner they had left, and in a little while +the baby dropped into a refreshing sleep in his sister's lap, while +Tode sometimes roamed about the wharf, and sometimes lounged against a +post and talked with Nan. + +"What is _your_ name?" she asked him, suddenly. + +"Tode Bryan." + +"Tode? That's a queer name." + +"'Spect that ain't all of it. There's some more, but I've forgot what +'tis," the boy replied, carelessly. + +"And where's your home, Tode?" + +"Home? Ain't got none. Never had none--no folks neither." + +"But where do you live?" + +"Oh, anywheres. When I'm flush, I sleeps at the Newsboys' Home, an' +when I ain't, I takes the softest corner I can find in a alley or on a +doorstep," was the indifferent reply. + +Nan looked troubled. + +"But I can't do that," she said. "I can't sleep in the street with +Little Brother." + +"Why not?" questioned Tode, wonderingly. + +"Oh because--girls can't do like that." + +"Lots o' girls do." + +"But--not nice girls, Tode," said Nan, wistfully. + +"Well no, I don't 'spect they're nice girls. I don't know any girls 't +amount to much," replied Tode, disdainfully. + +Nan flushed at his tone, as she answered, + +"But what _can_ I do? Where can I go? Seems as if there ought to +be some place where girls like me could stay." + +"That's so, for a fact," assented Tode, then he added, thoughtfully, +"The's one feller--mebbe you could stay where he lives. He's got a +mother, I know." + +"Oh if I only could, Tode! I'd work _ever_ so hard," said Nan, +earnestly. + +"You stay here an' I'll see 'f I can find him," said the boy. Then he +turned back to add suspiciously, "Now don't ye clear out while I'm +gone." + +Nan looked at him wonderingly. + +"Where would I go?" she questioned, and Tode answered with a laugh, + +"That a fact--ye ain't got no place to go, have ye?" + +Then he disappeared and Nan waited anxiously for his return. He came +back within an hour bringing with him a freckle-faced boy a year or so +older than himself. + +"This's the gal!" he remarked, briefly. + +The newcomer looked doubtfully at Nan. + +"See the little feller," cried Tode, eagerly. "Ain't he a daisy? See +him laugh," and he chucked the baby clumsily under the chin. + +The child's heavy eyes brightened and he smiled back into the +friendly, dirty face of the boy. + +The other boy looked at Tode wonderingly. "Didn't know 't you liked +_kids,_" he said, scornfully. + +"So I don't--but this one's diff'runt," replied Tode, promptly. "You +ain't no common kid, be ye, Little Brother?" + +"What's his name?" questioned the boy. + +"His name is David, but mother always called him Little Brother, and +so I do," answered the girl, in a low tone. "Have you a mother?" she +added, with an earnest look at the boy. + +"Got the best mother in this town," was the prompt reply. + +"Oh, won't you take me to her, then? Maybe she can tell me what to +do," Nan pleaded. + +"Well, come along, then," responded the boy, rather grudgingly. + +"You come too, Tode," said Nan. "'Cause you know we might meet Mary +Leary." + +"All right. I'll settle her. Don't you worry," and Tode, with a very +warlike air marched along at Nan's right hand. + +"What's your mother's name?" questioned Nan, shyly, of the newcomer as +the three walked on together. + +"Hunt. I'm Dick Hunt," was the brief reply. Then Dick turned away +from the girl and talked to Tode. + +It was not very far to Dick's home. It was in one of the better class +of tenement houses. The Hunts had three rooms and they were clean and +comfortably furnished. Tode looked around admiringly as Dick threw +open the door and led the way in. Tode had never been in rooms like +these before. Nan--after one quick glance about the place--looked +earnestly and longingly into Mrs. Hunt's kind motherly face. Dick +wasted no words. + +"Mother," he said, "this girl wants to stay here." + +Mrs. Hunt was making paper bags. Her busy fingers did not stop for a +moment, but she cast a quick, keen glance at Nan and Tode. + +"What do you mean, Dick?" she said. + +"Oh, Mrs. Hunt, if you only would let us stay here till I can find a +place to work, I'd be so thankful. We'll have to stay in the street +tonight--Little Brother and I--if you don't," urged Nan, eagerly. + +Mrs. Hunt's kind heart was touched by the girl's pleading tone. She +had girls of her own and she thought, "What if my Nellie had to spend +the night in the street," but she said only: + +"Sit down, my dear, and tell me all about it." + +The kind tone and those two words "my dear," were almost too much for +poor anxious Nan. Her eyes filled with tears and her voice was not +quite steady as she told again her sorrowful little story, and when it +was ended the mother's eyes too were dim. + +"Give me that baby," she exclaimed, forgetting her work for the +moment, and she took the little fellow tenderly in her arms. "You poor +child," she added, to Nan, "of course you can stay here to-night. It's +a poor enough place an' we're as pinched as we can be, but we'll +manage somehow to squeeze out a bite and a corner for you for a day or +two anyway." + +Tode's face expressed his satisfaction as he turned to depart. Dick +too looked pleased. + +"Didn't I tell ye I'd got the best mother in this town?" he said, +proudly, as he followed Tode down the stairs. + +"Yes you did, an' 'twarn't no lie neither," assented Tode, +emphatically; "but, see here, you can tell your mother that _I'm_ +agoin' to pay for that little feller's bread an' milk." + +Dick looked at him curiously. + +"You goin' to work again?" he questioned. + +"'Course I am." + +"Somebody's got your beat." + +"Who?" Tode stopped short in angry surprise as he asked the question. + +"That big red-headed feller that they call Carrots." + +"Well--Carrots'll find himself knocked out o' business," declared +Tode, fiercely. + +When the newsboys assembled at the newspaper office a little later, +Dick speedily reported Tode's remark, and soon all eyes were on the +alert to see what would happen. Tode was greeted rather coldly and +indifferently, but that did not trouble him. He bought his papers and +set off for his usual beat. Scenting a fight a good many of the boys +followed. As Dick had said, Tode found the big fellow on the ground, +lustily crying his papers. Tode marched straight up to him. + +"See here, Carrots, this's my beat. You clear out--d'ye hear?" he +shouted. + +The big fellow leered at him scornfully, and without a word in +response, went on calling his papers. + +Down on the ground went Tode's stock in trade, and he fell upon +Carrots like a small cyclone fighting with teeth, nails, fists and +heels, striking in recklessly with never a thought of fear. + +Forgetful of possible customers, the boys quickly formed a ring, and +yelled and hooted at the antagonists, cheering first one and then the +other. But the contest was an unequal one. The red-headed boy was the +bigger and stronger of the two and plucky as Tode was, he would have +been severely treated had not the affair been ended by the appearance +of a policeman who speedily separated the combatants. + +"What's all this row about?" he demanded, sharply, as he looked from +Tode's bleeding face to the big fellow's bruised eye. + +"He took my beat. I've sold papers here for three years," cried Tode, +angrily. + +"What _you_ got to say?" The policeman turned to the other. + +"He give it up. He ain't sold a paper here for a week past," growled +Carrots. + +"Whose beat is it?" The man turned to the other boys as he asked the +question. + +"Reckon it's Tode's." + +"He's o'ny been layin' off fer a spell." + +"It's Tode's sure 'nough." + +So they answered, and the officer turned again to Carrots. + +"You're a bigger feller 'n he is. You let him alone an' go find a new +beat for yourself, an' see 't I don't catch either of ye fightin' in +the streets again, or I'll put ye where ye'll get another kind of a +beat if ye don't walk straight. Now scatter--all of ye!" + +The "fun" was over and the boys needed no second bidding. They +scattered in all directions and the next moment, Tode's shrill voice +rang out triumphantly, while his rival stalked gloomily off, +meditating dire vengeance in the near future. + +Meantime, after Tode and Dick had departed, Nan had spoken a few +grateful words to Mrs. Hunt, and then laying the baby on the lounge, +she said, earnestly, + +"Please show me just how you make those bags. I'm sure I can do it." + +It was simple work and it did not take her many minutes to master the +details. Her quick eyes and deft fingers soon enabled her to do the +work fully as well and as rapidly as Mrs. Hunt could do it. + +"Well, I never! You certainly are a quick one," exclaimed the good +woman as she gave up her seat to the girl. "Now if you can finish that +job for me, I can get a little sewing done before dark." + +"Oh yes, I can finish this easily," exclaimed Nan, delighted that +there was something that she could do in return for the kindness shown +her. + +By and by, Jimmy, Nellie, and the younger children came in from +school, staring in amazement at the two strangers who seemed so much +at home there. Nan made friends with them at once, but she dreaded the +arrival of the father. + +"What if he shouldn't want us to stay?" she thought, anxiously, as she +heard a heavy step on the stairs, and Nellie called out, + +"Here comes father!" + +There was a general rush of the children as he opened the door and he +came into the room with boys and girls swarming over him. Nan's fears +departed at the first sight of his honest, kindly face, and his cheery +greeting to her. + +"Wal' now, this is nice," he said, heartily, after hearing his wife's +brief explanation. "Never can have too many little gals 'round to +suit me, an' as fer this young man," he lifted Little Brother gently +as he spoke, "he fits into this fam'ly jest like a book. Ted here's +gettin' most too much of a man to be our baby any longer." + +Ted's round face had lengthened as his father took up the baby, but it +brightened at these words, and he straightened himself and slipped his +hands into the pockets of the very short trousers he was wearing. + +"I'll be a big man pretty soon," he remarked, and his father patted +his head tenderly as he answered, + +"So you will, sonny, so you will, an' the more you help other folks +the faster you'll grow." + +That was a happy evening for Nan. As she sat at the supper-table at +"father's" right hand the only shadow on her satisfaction was the fear +that she might not be allowed to remain in this friendly +household. But somehow, even that thought could not cast a very dark +shadow on her heart when she looked up into the sunshine of Father +Hunt's plain face, or met the motherly smile of his good wife. She +lent a helping hand whenever she saw an opportunity to do so, and the +table was cleared, and the dishes washed so quickly that Mr. Hunt +remarked to his wife, + +"Look here, now, mother, why can't you an' me go somewheres this +evening? You ain't been out with me for more'n a year, an' I feel's if +I'd like a bit of an outin' to-night." + +Mrs. Hunt looked up doubtfully, but Nan spoke up quickly, + +"Do go, Mrs. Hunt. I'll take care of the children and be glad to." + +"That's right! That's right!" exclaimed Mr. Hunt. "'Course ye will, +an' I 'spect you'll make 'em have such a fine time that they'll be +sorry when we get back." + +Ted put his finger in his mouth and gloom gathered on his round face +at this suggestion, but it vanished as Nan said, + +"Teddy, I can cut fine soldiers out of paper, and animals too. After +your father and mother go I'll cut some for you." + +Teddy's face brightened at this promise, and he saw the door close +behind his mother without shedding a single tear. + +Nan put Little Brother to bed and then all the children gathered about +the table and Nan drew men and animals on brown paper and cut them +out, to the great delight of the children. Teddy especially was so +interested that once Nellie remarked, "You needn't get quite into +Nan's mouth, Ted." + +Nan laughed. "If he only won't get his fingers cut instead of the +paper," she said. + +"There! I've got a whole fun'ral of horses," remarked Ted, in a tone +of great satisfaction, as he ranged a long string of the figures two +and two on the table. + +"Look out, Ted, you'll knock over the lamp!" cried Jimmy, hastily. + +The warning came too late. Even as the words were uttered, the chair +on which Ted was standing slipped from under him, and as he struck out +wildly to save himself from falling he hit the lamp and knocked it +over on the table. The chimney rolled to the floor with a crash, and +the burning oil spread over the table licking up Ted's horses and the +scattered bits of paper as it went. Then a piece of the burning paper +blew against Nellie's apron and the next instant that was blazing, and +Nellie screaming with fright, while the other children ran crying into +the inner room--all but Ted. He--petrified with terror--stood still +with mouth and eyes wide open, gazing at the fiery stream rolling over +the table. + +It all happened in two or three seconds, but Nan did not lose her +head. She jerked off Nellie's apron without regard to fastenings, and +crammed it into the coalhod, then snatching up her old shawl which was +lying on the lounge, she threw it over the burning lamp and gathered +it closely over lamp, paper and all, so smothering the flames. In two +minutes the danger was over, Nan had lighted another lamp that Nellie +brought her, and the frightened children came creeping slowly back to +the table. + +Teddy did not care for paper men or animals any more that night. He +was ready to go to bed, and Nellie undressed him and put him there, +but the others sat up until the father and mother came home, all eager +to tell the story of their danger and of Nan's bravery. The mother's +eyes filled with tears as she put her arms about as many of the +children as she could gather into them and looked at Nan in silent +gratitude, while the father laid his hand kindly on the girl's brown +hair as he said, gravely, + +"Child, you've earned your place in this home. As long as I'm able to +work you're just as welcome here as the rest--you and the baby too." + +Nan's eyes were shining happily. + +"'Twas nothing much to do," she answered, "and I'll find some way to +pay for Little Brother and me if only we can stay here." + +Dick had come in soon after his parents, and had listened in gloomy +silence to the story of the children. + +"Humph!" he said to himself. "Twasn't so awful much to put out that +fire. I'd a done it in no time if I'd a been here." + +It seemed to Dick that his father and mother were making altogether +too much of this strange girl, and the evil spirit of jealousy reared +its ugly head in his heart. He wished he had not brought those two +home with him, anyhow. + +When, the next day, Tode met him on the street and inquired about Nan +and Little Brother, Dick replied, gruffly, + +"Oh, they're all right 'nough." + +"But are they goin' ter stay't your place?" questioned Tode. + +"'Spect so." Dick's voice was gruffer than before. + +"I'm agoin' 'round there to see 'em to-day," remarked Tode. + +Dick made no reply. + +Tode repeated, "Don't ye hear? I say I'm agoin' ter see 'em to-day." + +"I heard what ye said. S'pose I'm deaf?" and Dick turned his back and +marched off. + +Tode looked after him angrily. "Like ter punch his head fer him," he +said, under his breath. "Would, too, if his folks hadn't let Little +Brother stay on there." + +Nothing daunted by Dick's unfriendly manner, Tode presented himself +that afternoon at Mrs. Hunt's door. He found that good woman and Nan +both busy over the paper bags. All the children except Dick were at +school, and Little Brother was lying on the old shawl at his sister's +feet. Tode gave an awkward nod by way of greeting and dropped down on +the floor beside the child. + +"Hello, little chap!" he said. + +There certainly was a mutual attraction between the two, for the baby +again responded to his greeting with a smile, and held out his scrawny +little hands. + +Tode was delighted. He lifted the child in his arms and sat down with +him in an old rocking-chair. + +Nan cast a quick, disturbed glance at the two. She had dressed the +baby in some clothes that Mrs. Hunt had found for her--a few that had +survived Ted's rough usage. They were old but clean, and it was trying +to Nan to see Little Brother's pure, sweet face and fresh garments +held by Tode's dirty hands against his dirtier jacket. But the baby +did not mind. He looked as contented as Tode did, and when the boy's +grimy fingers touched his thin cheek, Little Brother laughed a soft, +happy, gurgling laugh that was music in Tode's ears. But suddenly the +boy's glance took in the contrast between his soiled hand and the +little face against which it rested. For a moment he hesitated, then +he arose hastily, placed the child gently on the old shawl again and +said to Mrs. Hunt, + +"Ye ain't got a bit o' soap you could lend me, have ye?" + +Mrs. Hunt looked at him inquiringly, then she answered a little +unwillingly, for even soap costs money, "You can take that bit on the +shelf there." + +Tode seized it and vanished. Few things escaped his quick eyes, and he +had noticed a sink and a faucet in the hall outside the door. There he +rubbed and scrubbed his hands for full five minutes vastly to their +improvement, though even then he looked at them doubtfully. + +"Can't do no better," he muttered, as he wiped them--well, he had only +one place to wipe them, and he did the best he could. When he went +back he glanced somewhat sheepishly at Mrs. Hunt as he put the +remains of the soap back on the shelf, and again took up the baby. Nan +smiled at him but she made no remark, and tried not to look at his +jacket. + +After he had gone Mrs. Hunt asked, thoughtfully, "How long have you +known that boy, Nan?" + +"I never saw him until yesterday," answered the girl. "He was good to +me then." + +"Yes, I know, an' of course you don't want to forget that, but, Nan, +I'm afraid he's a bad boy. Dick says he is. He says he lies and +steals and swears. I guess you don't want to have much to do with +him." + +Nan looked troubled. She answered, slowly, + +"I guess he hasn't had much of a chance, Mrs. Hunt. He can't remember +anything about his father and mother, and he says he's never had any +home except the street. Do you s'pose 'twill hurt for him to come here +sometimes to see Little Brother? 'Seems as if it might help him to be +a better boy. He likes Little Brother." + +For a moment Mrs. Hunt was silent. She was thinking how hard she tried +to bring up her children to be good boys and girls, and yet they were +not always good. She wondered what kind of a boy her Dick would have +been if he, like Tode, had had no home and no one to keep him from +evil ways. + +"If that's so, there's some excuse for him," she said, in response to +Nan's plea for Tode. + +"P'raps 'twill help him somehow if he gets to carin' for that innocent +baby, an' I don't mind his comin' here sometimes, only be careful that +you don't learn any evil from him, my dear," and she leaned over and +kissed the girl's cheek. + +"Oh, Mrs. Hunt, I _must_ be good always, you know, for Little +Brother's sake. I can't ever forget or break my promise to mother," +Nan answered, earnestly. And Mrs. Hunt, as she saw the solemn look in +the dark eyes uplifted to her own, felt that she need not worry about +Nan and Tode. + + + +III. AN ACCIDENT + + +Tode Bryan was sauntering down the street, his hands in his pockets, +as usual, when he was not selling papers. He was whistling a lively +tune, but he was on the lookout for anything interesting that might +happen. As he passed a fruit stand kept by an old woman, he slyly +snatched a handful of peanuts which he ate as he went on. He had sold +out his papers more quickly than usual, for it was still early in the +evening, and the streets were full of business-men on their way to +their homes. + +Suddenly the boy stopped short and listened, and the next moment there +was a general rush into doorways and side streets as a fire-engine +came dashing around the corner, while the police rushed from side to +side clearing the way through the narrow street. + +As the engine passed, Tode, like every other boy within sight or +hearing, raced madly after it, shouting and yelling "fire" with all +the power of his healthy lungs. Hearing somebody say where the fire +was, he slipped through a narrow cross street and an alley, so coming +out ahead of the engine which the next moment swung around the nearest +corner. + +An old man was just crossing the street, and as he heard the clang of +the gong and the clatter of the engine, he looked about in a dazed, +frightened way, and, instead of hurrying across, hesitated a moment +and then turned uncertainly back. The driver did his best to avoid +him but when the engine had passed the old man lay motionless upon the +ground. + +Instantly a crowd gathered about him and Tode pressed forward to the +front rank. One policeman was raising the old man's head and another +was asking if anybody knew who the injured man was. + +It was Tode, who, peering curiously at the pale face, remarked, + +"I know him. He buys papers o' me." + +"What's his name? Where does he live?" questioned the officer. + +"Do' know. He keeps a bookstand down on School street." + +"Well, we'll have to send him to the hospital. Ring up the ambulance, +Dick," said the officer to his companion. + +Tode was just dashing off after the engine when one of the policemen +collared him. + +"Here you!" he exclaimed. "None o' your cuttin' off! If you know this +man you've got to go to the hospital an' 'dentify him." + +Tode looked uncomfortable and tried to squirm out of the man's +grasp--a fruitless effort, for his strength availed nothing against +that iron grip. The boy had no idea what "'dentify" might mean but he +had his reasons for preferring to keep at a distance from the +guardians of the law. There was no help for it, however, so with many +inward misgivings, he submitted and waited for the ambulance. When it +appeared the still insensible old man was lifted in and Tode was +ordered to the front seat where he rode securely between the driver +and the policeman. The boy had never before been in a hospital and he +felt very ill at ease when he found himself inside the building with +its big rooms and long bare halls. He was left alone with the +policeman for a while, and then both of them were called into another +room and questioned in regard to the accident. Finally Tode was +dismissed with strict orders to return the next day. + +"He'll be here. I know him, an' if he don't show up, you jest send me +word an' I'll find him for ye," the officer said to the doctor, with a +threatening glance at the boy. + +Tode said nothing, but in his heart he was determined not to return +the next day. The officer, however, kept his eye on him, and the next +afternoon pounced upon him and put him on a street car with strict +orders to the conductor not to let him off until he reached the +hospital. So finding himself thus under watch and ward, Tode concluded +that he might as well obey orders, and he rang the bell at the +hospital door. He was met by the doctor whom he had seen the night +before, and taken at once to the ward where the injured man was lying. + +As Tode gazed around the long room with its rows of white beds, a +feeling of awe stole over him. He wanted to get away, for he did not +know what to do or say. + +The old man was lying as if asleep, but when the doctor spoke to him +he looked up and his dim eyes brightened at sight of the familiar face +of the boy. + +"Oh, bishop, it's you is it? Got a paper for me?" he said with a +feeble smile. + +Tode wriggled uneasily as he answered gruffly, "Guess ye don't want +none to-day, do ye?" + +"No, I don't believe I do. You can bring me one to-morrow, bishop," +and as he spoke the old man closed his eyes again, and turned his face +away with a weary sigh. + +"Come away now," said the doctor, and once outside the door he added, +"He hasn't said as much as that before. Seeing some one he knew +aroused him as I hoped it would. Why does he call you bishop?" + +"I do' know," replied Tode, indifferently. + +"Well, you must come again to-morrow. Here's a car ticket and a +quarter. I'll give you the same when you come to-morrow. Be here about +this time, will you?" + +"All right--I'll come," answered the boy to whom the quarter was an +inducement. + +The old man remained at the hospital for several weeks and Tode +continued to visit him there at first for the sake of the money and +because he dared not disobey the doctor's orders, but after a while he +became rather proud of the old man's evident liking for him, and he +would often sit and talk with him for half an hour at a time. + +One day Tode inquired curiously, "What d' ye call me bishop for? +'Tain't my name." + +And the old man answered dreamily, "You remind me of a boy I knew when +I was about your age. He used to say that he was going to be a bishop +when he grew up and so we boys always called him 'bishop.'" + +"An' did he?" questioned Tode. + +"Become a bishop? No, he entered the army and died in his first +battle." + +"W'at's a bishop, anyhow?" asked Tode, after a moment's silence. + +"You know what a minister is, Tode?" + +"A preacher, ye mean?" + +"Yes, a minister is a preacher. A bishop is a sort of head +preacher--ranking higher, you know." + +Tode nodded. "I'd rather be a soldier like that feller you knew," he +remarked. + +A day came when the old man was pronounced well enough to leave the +hospital and the doctor ordered Tode to be on hand to take him home. +The boy did not object. He was rather curious to see the little place +in the rear of the bookstand where the old man lived alone. Since the +accident the stand had been closed and Tode helped to open and air the +room and then made a fire in the stove. When this was done the old man +gave him money to buy materials for supper which of course the boy +shared. + +After this he came daily to the place to run errands or do anything +that was wanted, and by degrees the old man came to depend more and +more upon him until the business of the little stand fell almost +wholly into the boy's hands, for the owner's head still troubled him +and he could not think clearly. It was a great relief to him to have +some one to look after everything for him. Tode liked it and the +business prospered in his hands. If he lacked experience, he was +quicker and sharper than the old man. The two took their meals +together, and at night Tode slept on a blanket on the floor, and was +more comfortable and prosperous than he had ever been in his life +before. He had money to spend too, for old Mr. Carey never asked for +any account of the sums that passed through the boy's hands. So he +himself was undisturbed by troublesome questions and figures, the old +man was content now, and each day found him a little weaker and +feebler. Tode noticed this but he gave no thought to the matter. Why +borrow trouble when things were so much to his mind? Tode lived in the +present. + +He still sold the evening papers, considering it wise to keep +possession of his route against future need, and never a week passed +that he did not see Little Brother at least twice. He would have liked +to see the child every day, but he knew instinctively that he was not +a favorite with the Hunts, and that knowledge made him ill at ease +with them. But it could not keep him away altogether. He found too +much satisfaction in Little Brother's love for him. + +More than once Mrs. Hunt had remarked to Nan that she didn't "see what +in the world made the baby so fond of that rough, dirty boy." Nan +herself wondered at it though she kept always a grateful remembrance +of Tode's kindness when she first met him. + +Tode often brought little gifts to the child, and would have given him +much more, but Nan would not allow it. The two had a long argument +over the matter one day. It was a bright, sunny morning and Mrs. Hunt +had said that the baby ought to be out in the fresh air, so Nan had +taken him to the Common, and sat there keeping ever a watchful eye for +their enemy, Mary Leary. Tode going down Beacon street espied the two +and forgetting all about the errand on which he was bound, promptly +joined them. + +"He's gettin' fat--he is," the boy remarked, poking his finger at the +dimple in the baby's cheek, then drawing it quickly away again with an +uncomfortable expression. Tode never cared how dirty his hands were +except when he saw them in contrast with Little Brother's pure face. + +"Yes, he's getting well and strong," assented Nan, with a happy smile. + +"I say, Nan, w'at's the reason you won't let me pay for his milk?" +asked Tode, after a little. + +Then it was Nan's turn to look uncomfortable, and the color rose in +her cheeks as she answered, "I can pay now for all he needs. You know +Mrs. Hunt gets a double quantity of bags and I work on them every +day." + +But this answer did not satisfy Tode. "That don't make no diff'runce," +he growled. "Don't see why you won't let me do nothin' for him," and +he cast a gloomy glance at the baby, but Little Brother laughed up at +him and the gloom speedily melted away. After a moment's silence he +added, slowly, "It's comin' cold weather. He'll want a jacket or +somethin', won't he?" + +"He'll have to have some warm clothes," replied Nan, thoughtfully, +"but I can get them--I guess." + +Tode turned upon her fiercely. "I s'pose you'd let him freeze to death +'fore you'd let me buy him any clothes," he burst out, angrily. "I +sh'd like ter know w'at's the matter with ye, anyhow. Has that measly +Dick Hunt ben stuffin' ye 'bout me?" + +Nan coloured again and dropped her eyes. + +"Say--has he? I'll give it ter him next time I catch him out!" and +Tode ground his heel suggestively into the gravel walk. + +"Oh, Tode, don't! Please don't fight Dick," pleaded Nan. "How can you +when his mother's so good to Little Brother?" + +"Don't care 'f she is. _He_ ain't," was Tode's surly reply. "He +don't want you'n him to stay there." + +Nan's eyes were full of uneasiness. + +"Did he say so?" she questioned, for she had noticed Dick's coldness +and been vaguely disturbed by it. + +The boy nodded. "Yes," he said, "he tol' me so. Said there's 'nough +fer his father ter feed 'thout you'n him," and he pointed to the baby. + +"But I work," pleaded Nan. "I pay for all we eat." + +"But ye don't pay fer the rent an' the fire, an'--an' everything," +Tode replied, with a note of triumph in his voice, "so now, ye better +let me pay fer Little Brother an' then you c'n pay the rest." + +Nan hesitated and her face was troubled. Finally she lifted her dark +eyes to his and said bravely, "Tode, I guess I ought to tell you just +why I couldn't anyway let you do for Little Brother as you want +to. It's because--because you don't get your money the right way." + +"Who says I don't? Did that Dick Hunt say so? I'll"--began Tode, +fiercely, but Nan laid her hand on his arm and looked steadily into +his face. + +"Tode," she said, earnestly, "if you will look straight into Little +Brother's eyes and tell me that you never steal--I'll believe you." + +"I never"--began the boy, boldly; then he met a grave, sweet glance +from the baby's big blue eyes, and he hesitated. The lying words died +on his tongue, and turning his eyes away from the little face that he +loved, he said gloomily, "What's that got to do with it anyhow? +S'posin' I do hook a han'ful of peanuts sometimes. That ain't +nothin'." + +"Tode, do you want Little Brother to hook a handful of peanuts +sometimes when he gets big?" asked Nan, quietly. + +The boy turned his eyes again to the baby face and the hot blood +burned in his own as he answered, quickly, "'Course I don't. He won't +be that sort." + +"No, he won't, if I can help it," replied Nan, gravely. + +Tode dug his toe into the dirt in silence. Nan added, "Tode, by and +by, when he gets bigger, would you want him to know that you were a +thief?" + +When Tode looked up there was a strange gravity in his eyes, and his +lips were set in an expression of stern resolve. + +"I've got ter quit it," he said, solemnly, "an' I will. Say, Nan," he +added, wistfully, "if I quit now, ye wont ever let him know I used ter +be--what you said, will ye?" + +"No, Tode, never," answered Nan, quickly and earnestly. "And Tode, if +you'll stick to it, and not steal or lie or swear, I shan't mind your +helping me get things for Little Brother." + +The boy's face brightened, and he drew himself up proudly. "It's a +bargain, then," he said. + +Nan looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't believe you know how hard it +will be, Tode. I find it's awful hard to break myself of bad habits, +and I don't s'pose you've ever tried to before, have you?" + +Tode considered the question. "Guess not," he said, slowly, after a +pause. + +"Then I'm afraid you'll find you can't stop doing those bad things all +at once. But you'll keep on trying, Tode. You won't give up 'cause +it's hard work," Nan pleaded, anxiously. + +"Nope," answered the boy, briefly, with a glance at the soft little +fingers that were clasped about one of his. + +When Nan went home he went with her to the door, loth to lose sight of +the only creature in the world for whom he cared. As the door closed +behind the two, he walked on thinking over what Nan had said. Much of +it seemed to him "girls' stuff an' nonsense." "As if a fella couldn't +stop swipin' things if he wanted to!" he said to himself. + +As he went on he passed a fruit stand where a man was buying some +bananas. In putting his change into his pocket he dropped a nickel, +which rolled toward Tode who promptly set his foot on it, and then +pretending to pull a rag off his torn trousers, he picked up the coin +and went on chuckling over his "luck." But suddenly he stopped short +and the hot color rose in his cheeks as he exclaimed with an oath, + +"Done it again!" + +He looked around for the man, but he had disappeared, and with an +angry grunt Tode flung the nickel into the gutter and went on, +beginning so soon to realise that evil habits are not overcome by +simply resolving to conquer them. Tode never had made any such +attempt before, and the discovery had rather a depressing effect on +him. It made him cross, too, but to his credit be it said, the thought +of giving up the struggle never once occurred to him. + +He found old Mr. Carey asleep in his chair, and he awoke him roughly. + +"See here!" he exclaimed, sharply. "Is this the way you 'tend to +business when I'm gone? Some cove might a stole every book an' paper +on the stand, and cleaned out the cash, too." He pulled open the +drawer as he spoke. "No thanks to you that 'tain't empty," he +grumbled. He had never spoken so sharply before, and the old man was +vaguely disturbed by it. He got up and walked feebly across the room, +rubbing his trembling fingers through his grey hair in a troubled +fashion, as he answered slowly, + +"Yes, yes, bishop--you're right. It was very careless of me to go to +sleep so. I don't see how I came to do it. I'm afraid I'm breaking +down, my boy--breaking down," he added, sadly. + +As Tode looked at the old man's dim eyes and shaking hands a feeling +of sympathy and compassion stole into his heart, and his voice +softened as he said, "Oh, well, it's all right this time. Reckon I'll +have to run the business altogether till you get better." + +"I'm afraid you will, bishop. I'm not much good anyhow, nowadays," and +the old man dropped again into his chair with a heavy sigh. + +The weeks that followed were the most miserable weeks of Tode Byran's +short life. He found out some things about himself that he had never +before suspected. It was wholesome knowledge, but it was not pleasant +to find that in spite of his strongest resolutions, those nimble +fingers of his _would_ pick up nuts and apples from street stands +and his quick tongue would rattle off lies and evil words before he +could remember to stop it. The other boys found him a most unpleasant +companion in these days, for his continual failures made him cross and +moody. He would speedily have given up the struggle but for Little +Brother. Several times he did give it up for a week or two, but then +he staid away from the Hunts' rooms until he grew so hungry for a +sight of the baby face that he could stay away no longer. Nan came to +understand what these absences meant, and always when he reappeared +she would speak a word of encouragement and faith in his final +victory. Tode had not cared at all for Nan at first, but in these days +of struggle and failure he began to value her steadfast faith in him, +and again and again he renewed his vow to make himself "fit to help +bring up Little Brother," as he expressed it. + +It was one day toward the close of winter that Tode noticed that +Mr. Carey seemed more than usually dull and listless, dropping into a +doze even while the boy was speaking to him, and he went to bed +directly after supper. When the boy awoke the next morning the old man +lay just as he had fallen asleep. He did not answer when Tode spoke to +him, and his hands were cold as ice to the boy's touch. + +Tode did not know what to do, but he finally hunted up the policeman, +who knew him, and the two went back together and found the old man +dead. As no relatives appeared, the city authorities took charge of +the funeral, the books and the few pieces of furniture were sold to +pay the expenses, and Tode found himself once more a homeless waif. He +had not minded it before, but his brief experience of even this poor +home had unfitted him for living and sleeping in the streets. He found +it unpleasant too, to have no money except the little he could earn +selling papers. He set himself to face his future in earnest, and came +to the conclusion that it was time for him to get into some better +paying business. After thinking over the matter for several days he +went to Nan. + +"You know them doughnuts you made th' other day?" he began. + +"Yes," replied Nan, wonderingly. Mrs. Hunt had taught her to make +various simple dishes, and as Tode had happened in the day she made +her first doughnuts, she had given him a couple, which he had +pronounced "prime!" + +Now he went on, "I don't want to sleep 'round the streets any +more. I'm sick of it, but I can't make money 'nough off papers to do +anything else. I'm thinkin' of settin' up a stand." + +"A bookstand, Tode?" questioned Nan, interestedly. + +"No--a eatin' stand--fer the fellers ye know--newsboys an' such. 'F +you'll make doughnuts an' gingerbread an' san'wiches fer me, I bet all +the fellers'll come fer 'em." + +"Now that ain't a bad idea, Tode," said Mrs. Hunt, looking up from +her work. "Of course the boys would buy good homemade food instead of +the trash they get from the cheap eatin' houses, an' Nan, I shouldn't +wonder if you could earn more that way than by workin' at these bags." + +Nan considered the matter thoughtfully, and finally agreed to give it +a trial, and Tode went off highly pleased. + +It took him two weeks to save enough to start his stand even in the +simplest fashion, but when he did open it, he at first did a +flourishing business. In the beginning the boys patronised him partly +from curiosity and partly from good fellowship, but Nan's cookery +found favour with them at once, and "Tode's Corner" soon became the +favorite lunch counter for the city newsboys, and Tode's pockets were +better filled than they had been since Mr. Carey's death. + +For several weeks all went well, and the boy began to consider himself +on the high road to fortune, but then came a setback. + +One day his stand was surrounded by a crowd of boys all clamoring to +be served at once, when the big fellow who had taken possession of +Tode's newspaper route, months before, came along. He had never +forgotten or forgiven the boy for getting the better of him on that +occasion, and now he thought he saw a chance for revenge. + +Creeping up behind the group of hungry boys, he suddenly hit one of +them a stinging blow on the face, and as this one turned and struck +back angrily at him, the big fellow flung him back with all his +strength against Tode's stand. The stand was an old one and +rickety--Tode had bought it secondhand--and it went down with a crash, +carrying cookies, doughnuts, gingerbread, coffee, sandwiches, cups, +plates and boys in one promiscuous mixture. Before the boys could +struggle to their feet, Carrots, with his hands full of gingerbread, +had disappeared around the nearest corner. There was a wild rush and +a scramble, and when two minutes later, Tode stood gazing mournfully +at the wreck, not an eatable bit remained. The boys had considered the +wreckage as their lawful spoils, and every one of them had snatched as +much as he could. + +Later, however, their sense of justice led some of them to express, +after their rough fashion, sympathy for Tode, and disapproval of his +enemy's revengeful act. Besides, a few of them had enough conscience +to acknowledge to themselves that they had not been entirely +blameless. The result was that half a dozen of them went to Tode the +next day and offered to "chip in" and set him up again. + +Tode appreciated the spirit that prompted the offer, but he was also +shrewd enough to foresee that should he accept it, these boys would +expect favours in the way of prices and quantities when they dealt +with him in the future, and so he declined. + +"Reckin I can stan' on my own feet, boys," he answered. "I've been +a-tinkerin' up the ol' stand, an' I'm a-goin' to start in again +to-morrow. You fellers come here an' get yer breakfast, an' that's +all the help I'll ask, 'cept that ev'ry last one o' ye'll give that +Carrots a kick fer me." + +"We will that!" shouted the boys. "We'll make him sorry fer himself!" + +And the next day their sympathy took the practical form that Tode had +suggested, for every one of them that had any money to spend, spent it +at "Tode's Corner," so that his stand was cleared again, but in a very +satisfactory fashion--a fashion that filled his pockets with dimes and +nickels. + + + +IV. TODE MEETS THE BISHOP + + +Sundays were Tode's dreariest days. He found that it did not pay to +keep his stand open later than ten o'clock, and then after he had +spent an hour with Little Brother and Nan, the time hung heavy on his +hands. Sometimes he pored over a newspaper for a while, sometimes over +something even more objectionable than the Sunday newspaper, and for +the rest, he loafed around street corners and wharves with other +homeless boys like himself. + +One Sunday morning he was listlessly reading over some play-bills +pasted on a fence, when the word "bishop" caught his eye, and he +spelled out the announcement that a well-known bishop was to speak in +St. Mark's Church, that afternoon. + +"Cracky! I'd like to see a live bishop. B'lieve I'll go," he said to +himself. Then looking down at his ragged trousers and dirty jacket, he +added with a grin, "'Spect some o' them nobs'll most have a fit to see +me there." + +Nevertheless he determined to go. Old Mr. Carey had never called him +anything but "bishop," and now the boy had a queer feeling as he read +that word on the bill--a feeling that this bishop whom he had never +seen had yet in some way something to do with him--though in what way +he could not imagine. + +He thought over the matter through the hours that followed, sometimes +deciding that he would go, and again that he wouldn't, but he found +out where St. Mark's Church was, and at three o'clock he was there. + +He gave a little start and a shadow fell upon his face as he saw the +pillared porch and the stone stairway. He seemed to see himself +running up those stairs and stuffing that stolen pocketbook into the +pastor's box that he remembered so clearly. These thoughts were not +pleasant ones to him now, and Tode stopped hesitatingly, undecided +whether to go on or to go in. It was early yet and no one was entering +though the doors stood invitingly open. + +While he hesitated, the sexton came out to the steps. Tode remembered +him too, and looked at him with a grin that exasperated the man. "Get +out o' this!" he exclaimed, roughly. "We don't want any o' your sort +'round here." + +Of course that settled the matter for Tode. He was determined to go +in now anyhow, but he knew better than to attempt it just then. + +"Who wants to go int' yer ol' church," he muttered as he turned +away. The man growled a surly response but Tode did not look back. + +On the corner he stopped, wondering how he could best elude the +unfriendly sexton and slip into the building, without his +knowledge. He dropped down on the curbstone and sat there thinking for +some time. At last a voice above him said quietly, + +"Well, my boy, aren't you coming to church?" + +Tode looked up, up a long way it seemed to him, into such a face as he +had never before looked into. Instinctively he arose and stepped back +that he might see more plainly those clear blue eyes and that strong, +tender mouth. The boy gazed and gazed, forgetting utterly to answer. + +"You are coming into church with me, aren't you?" + +So the question was repeated, and Tode, still lookingly earnestly up +into the man's face, nodded silently. + +"That's right, my son--come," and a large, kindly hand was laid gently +upon the boy's shoulder. + +Without a word he walked on beside the stranger. + +The sexton was standing in the vestibule as the two approached. A look +of blank amazement swept across his face at sight of the boy in such +company. He said no word, however, only stepped aside with a bow, but +his eyes followed the two as they passed into the church together, and +he muttered a few angry words under his breath. + +As for Tode, some strange influence seemed to have taken possession of +him, for he forgot to exult over the surly sexton. He passed him +without a thought indeed, feeling nothing but a strange, happy wonder +at the companionship in which he found himself. + +The stranger led him up the aisle to one of the best pews, and +motioned him in. Silently the boy obeyed. Then the man looking down +with his rare, beautiful smile into the uplifted face, gently raised +Tode's ragged cap from his rough hair, and laid it on the cushioned +seat beside him. Then he went away, and Tode felt as if the sunlight +had been suddenly darkened. His eyes followed the tall, strong figure +longingly until it disappeared--then he looked about him, at the +beautiful interior of the church. The boy had never been in such a +place before, and he gazed wonderingly at the frescoes, the rich +colours in the windows, the dark carved woodwork and the wide chancel +and pulpit. + +"Wat's it all for, I wonder," he said, half aloud, and then started +and flushed as his own voice broke the beautiful, solemn silence. + +People were beginning to come in and filling the seats about him, and +many curious and astonished glances fell upon the boy, but he did not +notice them. Presently a soft, low strain of music stole out upon the +stillness. Surely a master hand touched the keys that day, for the +street boy sat like a statue listening eagerly to the sweet sounds, +and suddenly he found his cheeks wet. He dashed his hand impatiently +across them wondering what was the matter with him, for tears were +strangers to Tode's eyes, but in spite of himself they filled again, +till he almost wished the music would cease--almost but not quite, for +that strange happiness thrilled his heart as he listened. + +Then far-off voices began to sing, coming nerrer and nearer, until a +long line of white-robed men and boys appeared, singing as they +walked, and last of all came the kingly stranger who had brought Tode +into the church, and he went to the lectern and began to read. + +"The--bishop!" Tode breathed the words softly, in a mixture of wonder +and delight, as he suddenly realised who this man must be. + +He sat through the remainder of the service in a dreamy state of +strange enjoyment. He did not understand why the people around him +stood or knelt at intervals. He did not care. When the bishop prayed, +Tode looked around, wondering whom he was calling "Lord." He concluded +that it must be the one who made the music. + +He listened eagerly, breathlessly, to the sermon, understanding almost +nothing of what was said, but simply drinking in the words spoken by +that rich, sweet voice, that touched something within him, something +that only Little Brother had ever touched before. Yet this was +different from the feeling that the baby had awakened in the boy's +heart. He loved the baby dearly, but to this great, grand man, who +stood there above him wearing the strange dress that he had never +before seen a man wear--to him the boy's whole heart seemed to go out +in reverent admiration and desire. He knew that he would do anything +that this man might ask of him. He could refuse him nothing. + +"Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price." + +These words, repeated again and again, fixed themselves in Tode's +memory with no effort of his own. Buying and selling were matters +quite in his line now, but he did not understand this. He puzzled +over it awhile, then put it aside to be thought out at another time. + +When the service was over, Tode watched the long line of choir boys +pass slowly out, and his eyes followed the tall figure of the bishop +till it disappeared from his wistful gaze. Then he looked about upon +the kneeling congregation, wondering if the people were going to stay +there all day. The bishop was gone, the music had ceased, and Tode did +not want to stay any longer. He slipped silently out of the pew and +left the church. + +That evening he wandered off by himself, avoiding the Sunday +gathering-places of the boys, and thinking over the new experiences of +the afternoon. The words the bishop had repeated so often sung +themselves over and over in his ears. + +"Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price." + +"Don't mean me, anyhow," he thought, "'cause I b'long ter myself, sure +'nough. Nobody ever bought me 't ever I heard of. Wonder who that Jesus +is, he talked about so much. I wish--I wish he'd talk ter me--that +bishop." + +All the strange happiness that had filled his heart during the service +in the church, was gone now. He did not feel happy at all. On the +contrary, he felt wretched and utterly miserable. He had begun to have +a distinct pride and satisfaction in himself lately, since he had +stopped lying and stealing, and had set up in business for himself, +and especially since Mrs. Hunt had begun to look upon him with more +favour, as he knew she had--but somehow now all this seemed worthless. +Although he had not understood the bishop's sermon, it seemed to have +unsettled Tode's mind, and awakened a vague miserable dissatisfaction +with himself. He was not used to such feelings. He didn't like them, +and he grew cross and ugly when he found himself unable to shake them +off. + +He had wandered to the quiet corner of the wharf, where he and Nan and +Little Brother had spent the first hours of their acquaintance, and he +stood leaning against that same post, looking gloomily down into the +water, when a lean, rough dog crept slowly toward him, wagging his +stumpy tail and looking into the boy's face with eyes that pleaded for +a friendly word. Generally Tode would have responded to the mute +appeal, but now he felt so miserable himself, that he longed to make +somebody or something else miserable too, so instead of a pat, he gave +the dog a kick that sent it limping off with a yelp of pain and +remonstrance. He had made another creature as miserable as himself, +but somehow it didn't seem to lessen his own wretchedness. Indeed, he +couldn't help feeling that he had done a mean, cowardly thing, and +Tode never liked to feel himself a coward. He looked after the dog. +It had crawled into a corner and was licking the injured paw. Tode +walked toward the poor creature that looked at him suspiciously, yet +with a faint little wag of its tail, as showing its readiness to +forgive and forget, while at the same time ready to run if more abuse +threatened. + +Tode stooped and called, "Come here, sir!" and, after a moment's +hesitation, the dog crept slowly toward him with a low whine, still +keeping his bright eyes fastened on the boy's. + +"Poor old fellow," Tode said, gently, patting the dog's rough +head. "Is it hurt? Let me see." He felt of the leg, the dog standing +quietly beside him. + +"'Tain't broken. It'll be all right pretty soon. What's your name?" +Tode said, and the dog rubbed his head against the boy's knee and +tried to say with his eloquent eyes what his dumb lips could not +utter. + +"Got none--ye mean? You're a street dog--like me," the boy +added. "Well, guess I'll go home an' get some supper," and he walked +slowly away and presently forgot all about the dog. + +He had lately hired a tiny garret room where he slept, and kept his +supplies when his stand was closed. He went there now and ate his +lonely supper. It had never before seemed lonely to him, but somehow +to-night it did. He hurried down the food and started to go out +again. As he opened his door, he heard a faint sound, and something +moved on the dark landing. + +"Who's there?" he called, sharply. + +A low whine answered him, and from out the gloom two eyes gleamed and +glittered. Tode peered into the shadow, then he laughed. + +"So it's you, is it? You must have tagged me home. Come in here then +if you want to," and he flung his door wide open and stepped back into +the room. + +Then out of the shadows of the dark landing the dog came slowly and +warily, ready to turn and slink off if he met no welcome, but Tode was +in the mood when even a strange dog was better than his own +company. He fed the half-starved creature with some stale sandwiches, +and then talked to him and tried to teach him some tricks until to his +own surprise he heard the city clocks striking nine, and the long, +lonely evening he had dreaded was gone. + +"Well now, you're a heap o' company," he said to the dog. "I've a good +mind ter keep ye. Say, d'ye wan' ter stay, ol' feller?" + +The dog wagged his abbreviated tail, licked Tode's fingers, and rubbed +his head against the ragged trousers of his new friend. + +"Ye do, hey! Well, I'll keep ye ter-night, anyhow. Le' see, what'll I +call ye? You've got ter have a name. S'posin' I call ye Tag. That +do--hey, Tag?" + +The dog gave a quick, short bark and limped gaily about the boy's +feet. + +"All right--we'll call ye Tag then. Now then, there's yer bed," and he +threw into a corner an old piece of carpet that he had picked up on a +vacant lot. The dog understood and settled himself with a long, +contented sigh, as if he would have said: + +"At last I've found a master and a home." + +In a day or two Tag's lameness disappeared, and his devotion to his +new master was unbounded. Tode found him useful, too, for he kept +vigilant watch when the boy was busy at his stand, and suffered no +thievish fingers to snatch anything when Tode's eyes and fingers were +too busy for him to be on the lookout. The dog was such a loving, +intelligent little creature, that he quickly won his way into Nan's +heart, and he evidently considered himself the guardian of Little +Brother from the first day that he saw Tode and the child +together. Some dogs have a way of reading hearts, and Tag knew within +two minutes that Tode loved every lock on Little Brother's sunny head. + +A few days after that Sabbath that the boy was never to forget, he +went to see Nan and the baby, and in the course of his visit, +remarked, + +"Nan, I seen the bishop last Sunday." + +"What bishop?" inquired Nan. + +"The one that talked at the big, stone church--St. Mark's, they call +it." + +"I wonder 't they let you in, if you wore them ragged duds," remarked +Mrs. Hunt. + +"The bishop asked me to go in an' he took me in himself," retorted +Tode, defiantly. + +"For the land's sake," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt. "He must be a queer kind +of a bishop!" + +"A splendid kind of a bishop, I should think," put in Nan, and the boy +responded quickly, + +"He is so! I never see a man like him." + +"Never see a man like him? What d'ye mean, Tode?" questioned +Mrs. Hunt. + +Tode looked at her as he answered slowly, "He's a great big man--looks +like a king--an' his eyes look right through a feller, but they don't +hurt. They ain't sharp. They're soft, an'--an'--I guess they look like +a mother's eyes would. I d'know much 'bout mothers, 'cause I never had +one, but I should think they'd look like his do. I tell ye," Tode +faced Mrs. Hunt and spoke earnestly, "a feller'd do 'most anything that +that bishop asked him to--couldn't help it." + +Mrs. Hunt stared in amazement at the boy. His eyes were glowing and +in his voice there was a ring of deep feeling that she had never +before heard in it. It made her vaguely uncomfortable. Her Dick had +never spoken so about any bishop, nor indeed, about anybody else, and +here was this rough street boy whom she considered quite unfit to +associate with Dick--and the bishop himself had taken him into church. + +Mrs. Hunt spoke somewhat sharply. "Well, I must say you were a +queer-lookin' one to set in a pew in a church like St. Mark's." + +Nan looked distressed, and Tode glanced uneasily at his garments. They +certainly were about as bad as they could be. Even pins and twine +could not hold them together much longer. + +"Tode," Mrs. Hunt went on, "I think it's high time you got yourself +some better clothes. Dear knows, you need 'em if ever a boy did, an' +certainly you must have money 'nough now." + +"'Spect I have. I never thought about it," replied Tode. + +"Well, you'd better think about it, an' 'tend to it right away. 'F +you're goin' to church with bishops you'd ought to look respectable, +anyhow." + +Something in the tone and emphasis with which Mrs. Hunt spoke brought +the colour into Tode's brown cheeks, while Nan looked at the good +woman in surprise and dismay. She did not know how troubled was the +mother's heart over her own boy lately, as she saw him growing rough +and careless, and that it seemed to her hard that this waif of the +streets should be going up while her Dick went down. + +Tode thought over what had been said, and the result was that the next +time he appeared he was so changed that the good woman looked twice +before she recognised him. His clothes had been purchased at a +secondhand store, and they might have fitted better than they did, but +they were a vast improvement on what he had worn before. He had +scrubbed his face as well as his hands this time, and had combed his +rough hair as well as he could with the broken bit of comb which was +all he possessed in the way of toilet appliances. It is no easy matter +for a boy to keep himself well washed and brushed with no face cloth +or towel or brush, and no wash basin save the public sink. Tode had +done his best however, and Nan looked at him in pleased surprise. + +"You do look nice, Tode," she said, and the boy's face brightened with +satisfaction. + +All through that week Tode told himself that he would not go to the +church again, yet day by day the longing grew to see the bishop's face +once more and to hear his voice. + +"W'at's the use! O'ny makes a feller feel meaner 'n dirt," he said to +himself again and again, yet the next Sabbath afternoon found him +hanging about St. Mark's hoping that the bishop would ask him in +again. But the minutes passed and the bishop did not appear. + +"Maybe he's gone in aready," the boy thought, peering cautiously +through the pillars of the entrance. There was no one in sight, and +Tode crept quietly across the porch through the wide vestibule to the +church door. Only the sexton was there, and his back was toward the +boy as he stood looking out of the opposite door. + +"Now's my time," thought Tode, and he ran swiftly and silently up the +aisle to the pew where the bishop had placed him. There he hesitated. +He was not sure which of several pews was the one, but with a quick +glance at the sexton's back, he slipped into the nearest, and hearing +the man's footsteps approaching, dropped to the floor and crawled +under the seat. + +The sexton came slowly down the aisle, stopping here and there to +arrange books or brush off a dusty spot. He even entered the pew where +Tode was, and moved the books in the rack in front, but the boy lay +motionless in the shadow, and the man passed on without discovering +him. + +Then the people began to come in, and Tode was just about to get up +and sit on the seat, when a lady and a little girl entered the pew. + +The boy groaned inwardly. "They'll screech if I get up now," he +thought. "Nothin' for it but to lay here till it's over. Wal', I c'n +hear _him_ anyhow." + +"Him," in Tode's thought was the bishop, and he waited patiently +through the early part of the service, longing to hear again that +rich, strong, thrilling voice. But alas for Tode! It was not the +bishop who preached that day. It was a stranger, whose low monotonous +voice reached the boy so indistinctly, that he soon gave up all +attempts to listen, and before the sermon was half over he was sound +asleep. Fortunately he was used to hard resting-places, and he slept +so quietly that the occupants of the pew did not discover his presence +at all. + +The music of the choir and of the organ mingled with the boy's dreams, +but did not arouse him, and when the people departed and the sexton +closed the church and went home, Tode still slept on in darkness and +solitude. + +Usually there was an evening service, but on this occasion it was +omitted, the rector being ill, so when Tode at last opened his eyes, +it was to find all dark and silent about him. As he started up his +head struck the bottom of the seat with a force that made him cry out +and drop back again. Then as he lay there he put out his hands, and +feeling the cushioned seat over his head, he knew where he was and +guessed what had happened. + +"Wal! I was a chump to go to sleep here!" he muttered, slowly, rising +with hands outstretched. "'Spect I'll have ter get out of the +window." + +The street lights shining through the stained glass made a faint +twilight in the church, but there was something weird and strange +about being there alone at that hour that set the boy's heart to +beating faster than usual. + +He went to one of the windows and felt about for the fastenings, but +he could not reach them. They were too high. He tried them all, but +none were within his reach. Then he sat down in one of the pews and +wondered what he should do next. He was wide awake now. It seemed to +him that he could not close his eyes again that night, and indeed it +was long after midnight before he did. He felt strangely lonely as he +sat there through those endless hours, dimly hearing the voices and +footsteps in the street without grow fewer and fainter, till all was +silent save the clocks that rang out the creeping hours to his weary +ears. At last his tired eyes closed and he slipped down on the +cushioned seat and slept for a few hours, but he awoke again before +daylight. + +It was broad daylight outside before it was light enough in the church +for the boy to see clearly, and then he looked hopelessly at the high +window fastenings. He had tried every door but all were securely +locked. + +"Nothin' t' do but wait till that ol' cove comes back," he said to +himself. + +Then a thought flashed across his mind--a thought that made his heart +stand still with dread. "S'posin' he don't come till next Sunday?" + +Tode knew nothing about midweek or daily services. But he put this +terrible thought away from him. + +"I'll get out somehow if I have ter smash some o' them pictures," he +said aloud, as he looked up at the beautiful windows. + +The minutes seemed endless while the boy walked restlessly up and down +the aisles thinking of his stand, and of the customers who would seek +breakfast there in vain that morning. At last he heard approaching +footsteps, then a key rattled in the lock, and Tode instinctively +rolled under the nearest pew and lay still, listening to the heavy +footsteps of the sexton as he passed slowly about opening doors and +windows. The boy waited with what patience he could until the man +passed on to the further side of the church, then he slid and crawled +along the carpeted aisle until he reached the door, when springing to +his feet he made a dash for the street. He heard the sexton shouting +angrily after him, but he paid no heed. On and on he ran until he +reached his room where Tag gave him a wildly delighted welcome, and in +a very short time thereafter the stand at "Tode's Corner" was doing a +brisk business. + + + +V. IN THE BISHOP'S HOUSE + + +Tode's patrons were mostly newsboys of his acquaintance, who came +pretty regularly to his stand for breakfast, and generally for a +midday meal, lunch or dinner as it might be. Where they took their +supper he did not know, but he usually closed his place of business +after one o'clock, and spent a couple of hours roaming about the +streets doing any odd job that came in his way, if he happened to feel +like it, or to be in need of money. + +After his meeting with the bishop he often wandered up into the +neighbourhood of St. Mark's with a vague hope that he might see again +the man who seemed to his boyish imagination a very king among men. It +had long been Tode's secret ambition to grow into a big, strong man +himself--bigger and stronger than the common run of men. Now, whenever +he thought about it, he said to himself, "Just like the bishop." + +But he never met the bishop, and having found out that he did not +preach regularly at St. Mark's, Tode never went there after the second +time. + +One afternoon in late September, the boy was lounging along with Tag +at his heels in the neighbourhood of the church, when he heard a great +rattling of wheels and clattering of hoofs, and around the corner came +a pair of horses dragging a carriage that swung wildly from side to +side, as the horses came tearing down the street. There was no one in +the carriage, but the driver was puffing along a little way behind, +yelling frantically, "Stop 'em! Stop 'em! Why don't ye stop the +brutes!" + +There were not many people on the street, and the few men within sight +seemed not at all anxious to risk life or limb in an attempt to stop +horses going at such a reckless pace. + +Now Tode was only a little fellow not yet fourteen, but he was strong +and lithe as a young Indian, and as to fear--he did not know what it +was. As he saw the horses dashing toward him he leaped into the middle +of the street and stood there, eyes alert and limbs ready, directly in +their pathway. They swerved aside as they approached him, but with a +quick upward spring he grabbed the bit of the one nearest him, and +hung there with all his weight. This frightened and maddened the +horse, and he plunged and reared and flung his head from side to side, +until he succeeded in throwing the boy off. The delay however, slight +as it was, had given the driver time to come up, and he speedily +regained control of his team while a crowd quickly gathered. + +Tode had been flung off sidewise, his head striking the curbstone, and +there he lay motionless, while faithful Tag crouched beside him, now +and then licking the boy's fingers, and whining pitifully as he looked +from face to face, as if he would have said, + +"_Won't_ some of you help him? I can't." + +The crowd pressed about the unconscious boy with a sort of morbid +curiosity, one proposing one thing and one another until a policeman +came along and promptly sent a summons for an ambulance; but before it +appeared, a tall grey-haired man came up the street and stopped to see +what was the matter. He was so tall that he could look over the heads +of most of the men, and as he saw the white face of the boy lying +there in the street, he hastily pushed aside the onlookers as if they +had been men of straw, and stooping, lifted the boy in his strong +arms. + +"Stand back," he cried, his voice ringing out like a trumpet, "would +you let the child die in the street?" + +They fell back before him, a whisper passing from lip to lip. "It's +the bishop!" they said, and some ran before him to open the gate and +some to ring the bell of the great house before which the accident had +occurred. + +Mechanically the bishop thanked them, but he looked at none of +them. His eyes were fixed upon the face that lay against his shoulder, +the blood dripping slowly from a cut on one side of the head. + +The servant who opened the door stared for an instant wonderingly, at +his master with the child in his arms, and at the throng pressing +curiously after them, but the next moment he recovered from his +amazement and, admitting the bishop, politely but firmly shut out the +eager throng that would have entered with him. A lank, rough-haired +dog attempted to slink in at the bishop's heels, but the servant gave +him a kick that made him draw back with a yelp of pain, and he took +refuge under the steps where he remained all night, restless and +miserable, his quick ears yet ever on the alert for a voice or a step +that he knew. + +As the door closed behind the bishop, he exclaimed, + +"Call Mrs. Martin, Brown, and then send for the doctor. This boy was +hurt at our very door." + +Brown promptly obeyed both orders, and Mrs. Martin, the housekeeper, +hastily prepared a room for the unexpected guest. The doctor soon +responded to the summons, but all his efforts failed to restore the +boy to consciousness that day. The bishop watched the child as +anxiously as if it had been one of his own flesh and blood. He had +neither wife nor child, but perhaps all the more for that, his great +heart held love enough and to spare for every child that came in his +way. + +It was near the close of the following day when Tode's eyes slowly +opened and he came back to consciousness, but his eyes wandered about +the strange room and he still lay silent and motionless. The doctor +and the bishop were both beside him at the moment and he glanced from +one face to the other in a vague, doubtful fashion. He asked no +question, however, and soon his eyes again closed wearily, but this +time in sleep, healthful and refreshing, instead of the stupor that +had preceded it, and the doctor turned away with an expression of +satisfaction. + +"He'll pull through now," he said in a low tone. "He's young and full +of vitality--he'll soon be all right." + +The bishop rubbed his hands with satisfaction. "That's well! That's +well!" he exclaimed, heartily. + +The doctor looked at him curiously. "Did you ever see the lad before +you picked him up yesterday?" he asked. + +"No, never," answered the bishop, who naturally had not recognised in +Tode the boy whom he had taken into church that Sunday, weeks before. + +The doctor shook his head as he drove off and muttered to himself, + +"Whoever saw such a man! Who but our bishop would ever think of taking +a little street urchin like that right into his home and treating him +as if he were his own flesh and blood! Well, well, he himself gets +taken in often no doubt in another fashion, but all the same the world +would be the better if there were more like him!" + +And if the doctor's pronouns were a little mixed he himself understood +what he meant, and nobody else had anything to do with the matter. + +The next morning Tode awoke again and this time to a full and lively +consciousness of his surroundings. It was still early and the nurse +was dozing in an easy-chair beside the bed. The boy looked at her +curiously, then he raised himself on his elbow and gazed about him, +but as he did so he became conscious of a dull throbbing pain in one +side of his head and a sick faintness swept over him. It was his first +experience of weakness, and it startled him into a faint groan as his +head fell back on the pillow. + +The sound awoke the nurse, who held a spoonful of medicine to his +lips, saying, + +"Lie still. The doctor says you must not talk at all until he comes." + +"So," thought the boy. "I've got a doctor. Wonder where I am an' what +ails me, anyhow." + +But that strange weakness made it easy to obey orders and lie still +while the nurse bathed his face and hands and freshened up the bed and +the room. Then she brought him a bowl of chicken broth with which she +fed him. It tasted delicious, and he swallowed it hungrily and wished +there had been more. Then as he lay back on the pillows he remembered +all that had happened--the horses running down the street, his attempt +to stop them, and the awful blow on his head as it struck the +curbstone. + +"Wonder where I am? Tain't a hospital, anyhow," he thought. "My! But I +feel nice an' clean an' so--so light, somehow! If only my head wasn't +so sore!" + +No wonder he felt "nice and clean and light somehow," when, for the +first time in his life his body and garments as well as his bed, were +as sweet and fresh as hands could make them. Tode never had minded +dirt. Why should he, when he had been born in it and had grown up +knowing nothing better? Yet, none the less, was this new experience +most delightful to him--so delightful that he didn't care to talk. It +was happiness enough for him, just then, to lie still and enjoy these +new conditions, and so presently he floated off again into sleep--a +sleep full of beautiful dreams from which the low murmur of voices +aroused him, and he opened his eyes to see the nurse and the doctor +looking down at him. + +"Well, my boy," said the doctor, with his fingers on the wrist near +him, "you look better. Feel better too, don't you?" + +Tode gazed at him, wondering who he was and paying no attention to his +question. + +"Doctor," exclaimed the nurse, suddenly, "he hasn't spoken a single +word. Do you suppose he can be deaf and dumb?" + +The bishop entered the room just in time to catch the last words. + +"Deaf and dumb!" he repeated, in a tone of dismay. "Dear me! If the +poor child is deaf and dumb, I shall certainly keep him here until I +can find a better home for him." + +As his eyes rested on the bishop Tode started and uttered a little +inarticulate cry of joy; then, as he understood what the bishop was +saying, a singular expression passed over his face. The doctor, +watching him closely could make nothing of it. + +"He looks as if he knew you, bishop," the doctor said. + +The bishop had taken the boy's rough little hand in his own large, +kindly grasp. + +"No, doctor," he answered, "I don't think I've ever seen him before +yesterday, but we're friends all the same, aren't we, my lad?" and he +smiled down into the grey eyes looking up to him so earnestly and +happily. + +Tode opened his lips to speak, then suddenly remembering, slightly +shook his head while the colour mounted in his pale cheeks. + +"He acts like a deaf mute, certainly," muttered the doctor, and +stepping to the head of the bed he pulled out his watch and held it +first to one and then the other of Tode's ears, but out of his sight. + +Tode's ears were as sharp as a ferret's and his brain was as quick as +his ears. He knew well enough what the doctor was doing but he made no +sign. Were not the bishop's words ringing in his ears? "If the poor +child is deaf and dumb I shall certainly keep him here until I can +find a better home for him." + +There were few things at which the boy would have hesitated to ensure +his staying there. He understood now that he was in the house of the +bishop--"my bishop" he called him in his thought. + +So, naturally enough, it was taken for granted that the boy was deaf +and dumb, for no one imagined the possibility of his pretending to be +so. Tode thought it would be easy to keep up the deception, but at +first he found it very hard. As his strength returned there were so +many questions that he wanted to ask, but he fully believed that if it +were known that he could hear and speak he would be sent away, and +more and more as the days went by he longed to remain where he was. + +As he grew stronger and able to sit up, books and games and pictures +were provided for his amusement, yet still the hours sometimes dragged +somewhat heavily, but it was better when he was well enough to walk +about the house. + +Mrs. Martin, the housekeeper, had first admired the boy's bravery, +then pitied him for his suffering, and had ended by loving him, +because she, too, had a big, kindly heart that was ready to love +anybody who needed her love and service. So, it was with great +satisfaction that she obeyed the bishop's orders, and bought for the +boy a good, serviceable outfit as soon as he was able to walk about +his room. + +She combed out and trimmed his rough, thick hair, and then helped him +dress himself in one of his new suits. As she tied his necktie for him +she looked at him with the greatest satisfaction, saying to herself, + +"Whoever would believe that it was the same boy? If only he could hear +and speak now like other boys, I'd have nothing more to ask for him." + +Then she stooped and kissed him. Tode wriggled uneasily under the +unwonted caress, not quite certain whether or not he liked it--from a +woman. The housekeeper took his hand and led him down the stairs to +the bishop's study. It was a long room containing many books and +easy-chairs and two large desks. At one of these the bishop sat +writing, and over the other bent a short, dark-faced man who wore +glasses. + +"Come in, Mrs. Martin, come in," called the bishop, as he saw her +standing at the open door. "And who is this?" he added, holding out +his hand to the boy. + +"You don't recognize him?" Mrs. Martin asked smiling down on Tode's +smooth head. + +The bishop looked keenly at the boy, then he smiled contentedly and +drew the little fellow to his side. + +"Well, well!" he said, "the clothes we wear do make a great +difference, don't they, Mrs. Martin? He's a fine looking lad. Gibson, +this is the boy I was telling you about." + +The little dark man turned and looked at Tode as the bishop spoke. It +was not a friendly look, and Tode felt it. + +"Ah," replied Mr. Gibson, slowly. "So this is the boy, is it? He was +fortunate to fall into your hands;" and with a sharp, sidelong glance +over his shoulder, Mr. Gibson turned again to his work. + +The bishop drew a great armchair close to his table and gently pushed +Tode into it. Then he brought a big book full of pictures and put it +into the boy's hands. + +"Let him stay here for a while, Mrs. Martin," he said. "I always work +better when there is a child near me--if it's the right sort of a +child," he added, with a smile. + +Mrs. Martin went out, and Tode, with a long, happy breath, leaned back +in the big chair and looked about him at the many books, at the dark +head bent over the desk in the alcove, finally at the noble face of +the bishop intent on his writing. + +This was the beginning of many happy hours for Tode. Perhaps it was +the weakness and languor resulting from his accident that made him +willing to sit quietly a whole morning or afternoon in the study +beside the bishop's table, when, before this, to sit still for half an +hour would have been an almost unendurable penance to him; but there +was another and a far stronger reason in the deep reverential love for +the bishop, that day by day was growing and strengthening into a +passion in his young heart. The boy's heart was like a garden-spot in +which the rich, strong soil lay ready to receive any seed that might +fall upon it. Better seed could not be than that which all +unconsciously this man of God--the bishop--was sowing therein, as day +after day he gave his Master's message to the sick and sinful and +sorrowful souls that came to him for help and comfort. + +It goes without saying that the bishop had small leisure, for many and +heavy were the demands upon his time and thought, but nevertheless he +kept two hours a day sacredly free from all other claims, that he +might give them to any of God's poor or troubled ones who desired to +see him, and believing that Tode could hear nothing that was said, he +often kept the boy with him during these hours. + +Strange and wonderful lessons were those that the little street boy +learned from the consecrated lips of the good bishop--lessons of God's +love to man, and of the loving service that man owes not only to his +God, but to his brother man. Strange, sad lessons too, of sin and +sorrow, and their far-reaching influence on human lives. Tode had not +lived in the streets for nearly fourteen years without learning a +great deal about the sin that is in the world, but never until now, +had he understood and realised the evil of it and the cure for +it. Many a time he longed to ask the bishop some of the questions that +filled his mind, but that he dared not do. + +Among these visitors there came one morning to the study a plainly +dressed lady with a face that Tode liked at the first glance. As she +talked with the bishop, the boy kept his eyes on the book open in his +lap, but he heard all that was said--heard it at first with a startled +surprise that changed into a sick feeling of shame and misery--for the +story to which he listened was this: + +The lady was a Mrs. Russell. The bishop had formerly been her pastor +and she still came to him for help and counsel. She had been much +interested in a boy of sixteen who had been in her class in the +mission school, a boy who was entirely alone in the world. He had +picked up a living in the streets, much as Tode himself had done, and +finally had fallen into bad company and into trouble. + +Mrs. Russell had interested herself in his behalf, and upon her +promise to be responsible for him, he had been delivered over to her +instead of being sent to a reform school. She went to a number of the +smaller dry goods stores and secured promises of employment for the +boy as parcel deliverer. To do this work he must have a tricycle, and +the energetic little lady having found a secondhand one that could be +had for thirty dollars, set herself to secure this sum from several of +her friends. This she had done, and was on her way to buy the tricycle +when she lost her pocketbook. The owner of the tricycle, being anxious +to sell, and having another offer, would not hold it for her, but sold +it to the other customer. The boy, bitterly disappointed, lost hope +and heart, and that night left the place where Mrs. Russell had put +him. Since then she had sought in vain for him, and now, unwilling to +give him up, she had come to ask the bishop's help in the search. + +To all this Tode listened with flushed cheeks and fast-beating heart, +while before his mind flashed a picture of himself, wet, dirty and +ragged, gliding under the feet of the horses on the muddy street, the +missing pocketbook clutched tightly in his hand. Then a second picture +rose before him, and he saw himself crowding the emptied book into +that box on the chapel door of St. Mark's. + +The bishop pulled open a drawer in his desk and took from it a +pocketbook, broken and stained with mud. He handed it to Mrs. Russell, +who looked at him in silent wonder as she saw her own name on the +inside. + +"_How_ did it get into your hands?" she questioned, at last. + +"You would never guess how," the bishop answered. "It was found in the +pastor's box at St. Mark's, and the rector came to me to inquire if I +knew any one of that name. I had not your present address, but have +been intending to look you up as soon as I could find time." + +"I cannot understand it," said Mrs. Russell, carefully examining each +compartment of the book. "Why in the world should the thief have put +the empty pocketbook there, of all places?" + +"Of course he would want to get rid of it," the bishop replied, +thoughtfully, "but that certainly was a strange place in which to put +it." + +"If the thief could know how the loss of that money drove that poor +foolish boy back into sin and misery, he surely would wish he had +never touched it--if he has any conscience left," said Mrs. Russell. +"There is good stuff in that poor boy of mine, and I can't bear to +give him up and leave him to go to ruin." + +The bishop looked at her with a grave smile as he answered: + +"Mrs. Russell, I never yet knew you willing to give up one of your +straying lambs. Like the Master Himself, your big heart always yearns +over the wanderers from the fold. I wonder," he added, "if we couldn't +get one or two newsboys to help in this search. Many of them are very +keen, sharp little fellows, and they'd be as likely as anybody to know +Jack, and to know his whereabouts if he is still in the city. Let me +see--his name is Jack Finney, and he is about fifteen or sixteen now, +isn't he?" + +"Yes, nearly sixteen." + +"Suppose you give me a description of him, Mrs. Russell. I ought to +remember how he looks, but I see so many, you know," the bishop added, +apologetically. + +"Of course you cannot remember all the boys who were in our mission +school," replied Mrs. Russell. "Jack is tall and large, for +fifteen. His hair is sandy, his eyes blue, and, well--his mouth +_is_ rather large. Jack isn't a beauty, and he is rough and rude, +and I'm afraid he often does things that he ought not to do, but only +think what a hard time he has had in the world thus far." + +"Yes," replied the bishop with a sigh, "he _has_ had a hard time, +and it is not to be wondered at that he has gone wrong. Many a boy +does that who has every help toward right living. Well now, +Mrs. Russell, I'll see what I can do to help you in this matter. Your +faith in the boy ought to go far toward keeping him straight if we can +find him." + +The bishop walked to the hall with his visitor. When he came back +Tode sat with his eyes fastened on the open book in his lap, though he +saw it not. + +He did not look up with his usual bright smile when the bishop sat +down beside him. That night he could not eat, and when he went to bed +he could not sleep. + +"Thief! Thief! You're a thief! You're a thief!" + +Over and over and over again these words sounded in Tode's ears. He +had known of course that he was a thief, but he had never +_realised_ it until this day. As he had sat there and listened to +Mrs. Russell's story, he seemed to see clearly how his soul had been +soiled with sin as surely as his body had been with dirt, and even as +now the thought of going back to his former surroundings sickened him, +so the remembrance of the evil that he had known and done, now seemed +horrible to him. It was as if he looked at himself and his past life +through the pure eyes of the bishop--and he hated it all. Dimly he +began to see that there was something that he must do, but what that +something was, he could not as yet determine. He was not willing in +fact to do what his newly awakened conscience told him that he ought +to do. + +In the morning he showed so plainly the effects of his wakeful night, +and of his first moral battle, that the bishop was much concerned. + +He had begun to teach the boy to write that he might communicate with +him in that fashion, but as yet Tode had not progressed far enough to +make communication with him easy, though he was beginning to read +quite readily the bold, clear handwriting of the bishop. + +This morning, the bishop, noting the boy's pale cheeks and heavy eyes, +proposed a walk instead of the writing lesson. Tode was delighted to +go, and the two set off together. Now the boy had an opportunity to +see yet farther into the heart and life of this good, great man. They +went on and on, away from the wide streets and handsome houses, into +the tenement house district, and finally into an old building, where +many families found shelter--such as it was. Up one flight after +another of rickety stairs the bishop led the boy. At last he stopped +and knocked at a door on a dark landing. + +The door was opened by a woman whose eyes looked as if she had +forgotten how to smile, but a light flashed into them at sight of her +visitor. She hurriedly dusted a chair with her apron, and as the +bishop took it he lifted to his knee one of the little ones clinging +to the mother's skirts. There were four little children, but one lay, +pale and motionless on a bed in one corner of the room. + +"She is sick?" inquired the bishop, his voice full of sympathy, as he +looked at the small, wan face. + +The woman's eyes filled with tears. + +"Yes," she answered, "I doubt I'm goin' to lose her, an' I feel I +ought to be glad for her sake--but I can't." She bent over the little +form and kissed the heavy eyelids. + +"Tell me all about it, my daughter," the bishop said, and the woman +poured out her story--the old story of a husband who provided for his +family after a fashion, when he was sober, but left them to starve +when the drink demon possessed him. He had been away now for three +weeks, and there was no money for medicine for the sick child, or food +for the others. + +Before the story was told the bishop's hand was in his pocket and he +held out some money to the woman, saying, + +"Go out and buy what you need. It will be better for you to get it, +than for me to. The breath of air will do you good, and I will see to +the children until you come back." + +She hesitated for a moment, then with a word of thanks, threw a shawl +over her head and was gone. + +The bishop gathered the three older children about him, one on each +knee and the third held close to his side, and told them stories that +held them spellbound until the sick baby began to stir and moan +feebly. Then the bishop arose, and taking the little creature tenderly +in his strong arms, walked back and forth in the small room until the +moaning cry ceased and the child slept. He had just laid it again on +the bed when the mother came back with her arms full of packages. The +look of dull despair was gone from her worn face, and there was a +gleam of hope in her eyes as she hastily prepared the medicine for the +baby, while the bishop eagerly tore open one of the packages, and put +bread into the hands of the other children. + +"God bless you, sir,--an' He will!" the woman said, earnestly, as the +bishop was departing with a promise to come soon again. + +Tode, from his seat in a corner had looked on and listened to all, and +now followed the bishop down to the street, and on until they came to +a big building. The boy did not know then what place it was. Afterward +he learned that it was the poorhouse. + +Among the human driftwood gathered here there was one old man who had +been a cobbler, working at his trade as long as he had strength to do +so. The bishop had known him for a long time before he gave up his +work, and now it was the one delight of the old man's life to have a +visit from the bishop, and knowing this, the latter never failed to +come several times each year. The old cobbler lived on the memory of +these visits through the lonely weeks that followed them, looking +forward to them as the only bright spots in his sorrowful life. + +"You'll pray with me before ye go?" he pleaded on this day when his +visitor arose to leave. + +"Surely," was the quick reply, and the bishop, falling on his knees, +drew Tode down beside him, and the old cobbler, the child and the man +of God, bowed their heads together. + +A great wonder fell upon Tode first, as he listened to that prayer, +and then his heart seemed to melt within him. When he rose from his +knees, he had learned Who and What God is, and what it is to pray, and +though he could not understand how it was, or why--he knew that +henceforth his own life must be wholly different. Something in him +was changed and he was full of a strange happiness as he walked +homeward beside his friend. + +But all in a moment his new joy departed, banished by the remembrance +of that pocketbook. + +"I found it. I picked it up," he argued to himself, but then arose +before him the memory of other things that he had stolen--of many an +evil thing that he had done, and gloried in the doing. Now the +remembrance of these things made him wretched. + +The bishop was to deliver an address that evening, and Tode was alone, +for he did not feel like going to the housekeeper's room. + +He was free to go where he chose about the house, so he wandered from +room to room, and finally to the study. It was dark there, but he felt +his way to his seat beside the bishop's desk, and sitting there in the +dark the boy faced his past and his future; faced, too, a duty that +lay before him--a duty so hard that it seemed to him he never could +perform it, yet he knew he must. It was to tell the bishop how he had +been deceiving him all these weeks. + +Tears were strangers to Tode's eyes, but they flowed down his cheeks +as he sat there in the dark and thought of the happy days he had spent +there, and that now he must go away from it all--away from the +bishop--back to the wretched and miserable life which was all he had +known before. + +"Oh, how _can_ I tell him! How can I tell him!" he sobbed aloud, +with his head on the desk. + +The next moment a strong, wiry hand seized his right ear with a grip +that made him wince, while a voice with a thrill of evil satisfaction +in it, exclaimed in a low, guarded tone, + +"So! I've caught you, you young cheat. I've suspected for some time +that you were pulling the wool over the bishop's eyes, but you were so +plaguy cunning that I couldn't nab you before. You're a fine +specimen, aren't you? What do you think the bishop will say to all +this?" + +Tode had recognised the voice of Mr. Gibson, the secretary. He knew +that the secretary had a way of going about as soft-footed as a +cat. He tried to jerk his ear free, but at that Mr. Gibson gave it +such a tweak that Tode could hardly keep from crying out with the +pain. He did keep from it, however, and the next moment the secretary +let him go, and, striking a match, lit the gas, and then softly closed +the door. + +"Now," he said, coming back to the desk, "what have you to say for +yourself?" + +"Nothing--to you," replied Tode, looking full into the dark face and +cruel eyes of the man. "I'll tell the bishop myself what there is to +tell." + +"Oh, you will, will you?" answered the man, with a sneer. "I reckon +before you get through with your telling you'll wish you'd never been +born. The bishop's the gentlest of men--until he finds that some one +has been trying to deceive him. And you--you whom he picked up out of +the street, you whom he has treated as if you were his own son--I tell +you, boy, you'll think you've been struck by lightning when the bishop +orders you out of his sight. He never forgives deceit like yours." + +Tode's face paled and his lips trembled as he listened, but he would +not give way before his tormentor. + +His silence angered the secretary yet more. "Why don't you speak?" he +exclaimed, sharply. + +"I'll speak to the bishop--not to you," replied the boy, steadily. + +His defiant tone and undaunted look made the secretary furious. He +sprang toward the boy, but Tode was on the watch now, and slipped out +of his chair and round to the other side of the desk, where he stopped +and again faced his enemy, for he knew now that this man was his +enemy, though he could not guess the reason of his enmity. The +secretary took a step forward, but at that Tode sped across the room +out of the door, and up to his own room, the door of which he locked. + +Then he sat down and thought over what had happened, and the more he +thought of it the more certain he felt that what the secretary had +said was true. + +A long, long time the boy sat there, thinking sad and bitter +thoughts. At last, with a heavy sigh, he lifted his head and looked +about the bright, pretty room, as if he would fix it all in his mind +so that he never could forget it, and as he looked at the soft, rich +carpet, the little white bed with its fresh, clean linen, the wide, +roomy washstand and bureau, he seemed at the same time to see the +bare, dirty, cheerless little closet-like room to which he must +return, and his heart ached again. + +At last he started up, searched in his pockets for a piece of paper +and a pencil, and began to write. His paper was a much-crumpled piece +that he had found that morning in the wastebasket, and as yet his +writing and spelling were poor enough, but he knew what he wanted to +express, and this is what he wrote: + + +DEAR BISHOP: + +I hav ben mene and bad i am not def and dum but i acted like i was +caus I thot you wood not kepe me if yu knu I am sory now so i am going +away but i am going to kepe strate and not bee bad any more ever. I +thank you and i lov you deer. + +TODE BRYAN. + + +It took the boy a long time to write this and there were many smudges +and erasures where he had rubbed out and rewritten words. He looked at +it with dissatisfied eyes when it was done, mentally contrasting it +with the neat, beautifully written letters he had so often seen on the +bishop's desk. + +"Can't help it. I can't do no better," he said to himself, with a +sigh. Then he stood for several minutes holding the paper thoughtfully +in his hand. + +"I know," he exclaimed at last, and ran softly down to the study. It +was dark again there and he knew that Mr. Gibson had gone. + +Going to the desk, he found the Bible which the bishop always kept +there. As Tode lifted it the leaves fell apart at one of the bishop's +best-loved chapters, and there the boy laid his letter and closed the +book. He hesitated a moment, and then kneeling down beside the desk, +he laid his face on the cover of the Bible and whispered solemnly, + +"I _will_ keep straight--I will." + +It was nearly nine o'clock when Tode returned to what had been his +room; what would be so no longer. He undressed slowly, and as he took +off each garment he looked at it and touched it lingeringly before he +laid it aside. + +"I b'lieve he'd want me to keep these clothes," he thought, "but I +don't know. Maybe he wouldn't when he finds out how I've been cheatin' +him. Mrs. Martin's burnt up my old ones, an' I've got to have some to +wear, but I'll only take what I must have." + +So, with a sigh, he laid aside his white shirt with its glossy collar +and cuffs, his pretty necktie and handkerchief. He hesitated over the +shoes and stockings, but finally with a shake of the head, those, too, +were laid aside, leaving nothing but one under garment and his jacket, +trousers and cap. + +Then he put out the gas and crept into bed. A little later he heard +Mrs. Martin go up to her room, stopping for a moment to glance into +his and see that he was in bed. Later still, he heard the bishop come +in and go to his room, and soon after the lights were out and all the +house was still. + +Tode lay with wide open eyes until the big hall clock struck +twelve. Then he arose, slipped on his few garments and turned to leave +the room, but suddenly went back and took up a little Testament. + +"He told me to keep it always an' read a bit in it ev'ry day," the boy +thought, as with the little book in his hand he crept silently down +the stairs. They creaked under the light tread of his bare feet as +they never had creaked in the daytime. He crossed the wide hall, +unfastened the door, and passed out into the night. + + + +VI. TODE'S NEW START + + +A chill seemed to strike to Tode's heart as he stood on the stone +steps and looked up to the windows of the room where the bishop was +sleeping, and his eyes were wet as he passed slowly and sorrowfully +out of the gate and turned down the street. Suddenly there was a swift +rush, a quick, joyful bark, and there was Tag, dancing about him, +jumping up to lick his fingers, and altogether almost out of his wits +with joy. + +Tode sat down on the curbstone and hugged his rough, faithful friend, +and if he whispered into the dog's ear some of the grief that made the +hour such a bitter one--Tag was true and trusty: he never told +it. Neither did he tell how, night after night, he had watched beside +the big house into which he had seen his master carried, nor how many +times he had been driven away in the morning by the servants. But +Tag's troubles were over now. He had found his master. + +[Illustration: Adrift Again.] + +"Well, ol' fellow, we can't stay here all night. We must go on," Tode +said at last, and the two walked on together to the house where the +boy had slept before his accident. The outer door was ajar as usual, +and Tode and the dog went up the stairs together. + +Tode tried the door of his room. It was locked on the inside. + +"They've let somebody else have it," he said to himself. "Well, Tag, +we'll have to find some other place. Come on!" + +Once the boy would not have minded sleeping on a grating, or a +doorstep, but now it seemed hard and dreary enough to him. He shivered +with the cold and shrank from going to any of his old haunts where he +would be likely to find some of his acquaintances, homeless street +Arabs, like himself. Finally he found an empty packing box in an +alley, and into this he crept, glad to put his bare feet against Tag's +warm body. But it was a dreary night to him, and weary as he was, he +slept but little. As he lay there looking up at the stars, he thought +much of the new life that he was to live henceforth. He knew very well +that it would be no easy thing for him to live such a life, but +obstacles in his way never deterred Tode from doing, or at least +attempting to do, what he had made up his mind to. He thought much, +too, of the bishop, and these thoughts gave him such a heartache that +he would almost have banished them had he been able to do so--almost, +but not quite, for even with the heartache it was a joy to him to +recall every look of that noble face--every tone of that voice that +seemed to thrill his heart even in the remembrance. + +Then came thoughts of Nan and Little Brother, and these brought +comfort to Tode's sorrowful heart. He had not forgotten Little Brother +during the past weeks. There had never been a day when he had not +thought of the child with a longing desire to see him, though even for +his sake he could hardly have brought himself to lose a day with the +bishop. Now, however, that he had shut himself out forever from what +seemed to him the Paradise of the bishop's home, his thoughts turned +again lovingly toward the little one, and he could hardly wait for +morning, so eager was he to go to him. + +Fortunately for his impatience, he knew that the Hunts and Nan would +be early astir, and at the first possible moment he went in search of +them. He ran up the stairs with Tag at his heels, and almost trembling +with eagerness, knocked at the Hunts' door. Mrs. Hunt herself opened +it, and stared at the boy for a moment before she realised who it was. + +"For the land's sake, if it isn't Tode! Where in the world have you +been all this time?" she cried, holding the door open for him to +enter, while the children gazed wonderingly at him. "I've been +sick--got hurt," replied Tode, his eyes searching eagerly about the +room. "I don't see Nan or Little Brother," he added, uneasily. + +"They don't live here no more," piped up little Ned. + +Tode turned a startled glance upon Mrs. Hunt. + +"Don't live here!" he stammered. "Where do they live?" + +"Not far off; just cross the entry," replied Mrs. Hunt, +quickly. "Nan's taken a room herself." + +"Oh!" cried Tode, in a tone of relief, "I'll go'n see her;" and +waiting for no further words, he went. + +"Well," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt, "he might 'a' told us how he got hurt an' +all, 'fore he rushed off, I should think." + +"Jus' like that Tode Bryan. He don't know nothin'!" remarked Dick, +scornfully. + +His mother gave him a searching glance. "There's worse boys than Tode +Bryan, I'm afraid," she said. + +"There ye go agin, always a flingin' at me," retorted Dick, +rudely. "How's a feller to git on in the world when his own mother's +always down on him?" + +"You know I'm not down on you, Dick," replied his mother, tearfully. + +"You're always a hintin' nowdays, anyhow," muttered Dick, as he +reached over and helped himself to the biggest sausage in the dish. + +Mrs. Hunt sighed but made no answer, and the breakfast was eaten +mostly in silence. + +Meantime, Tode running across the entry, had knocked on the door with +fingers fairly trembling with eagerness and excitement. Nan opening +it, gave a glad cry at sight of him, but the boy, with a nod, pushed +by her, and snatched up Little Brother who was lying on the bed. + +The baby stared at him for an instant and then as Tode hugged him more +roughly than he realised, the little lips trembled and the baby began +to sob. That almost broke Tode's heart. He put the child down, crying +out bitterly, + +"Oh Little Brother, _you_ ain't goin' to turn against me, sure?" + +As he spoke he held out his hands wistfully, and the baby, now getting +a good look at him, recognised his favorite, and with his old smile +held out his arms to the boy, who caught him up again but more gently +this time, and sat down with him on his knee. + +It was some minutes before Tode paid any attention to Nan's questions, +so absorbed was he with the child, but at length he turned to her and +told her where he had been and what had happened to him. She listened +to his story with an eager interest that pleased him. + +"Wasn't it strange," she said, when he paused, "wasn't it strange, and +lovely too, that you should have been taken into the bishop's +house--and kept there all this time? Did you like him just as much in +his home as in the church, Tode?" + +"He's--he's"--began Tode with shining eyes, then as the bishop's face +rose before him, he choked and was silent for a moment. "I don't +b'lieve there's any other man like him in _this_ world," he said, +finally. + +Nan looked at him thoughtfully, at his face that seemed to have been +changed and refined by his sickness and his new associations, at the +neat clothes he wore, then at his bare feet. + +"I shouldn't think, if he's so good, that he would have let you come +away--so," she said, slowly. + +Tode flushed as he tried to hide his feet under his chair. + +"'Twasn't his fault," he answered, quickly. He too was silent for a +moment, then suddenly he sat upright with a look of stern resolve in +his grey eyes, as he added, "Nan, I'll tell you all there is about it, +'cause things are goin' to be diff'runt after this. I'm goin' to live +straight every way, I am; I've--promised." + +Then he told her frankly the whole story; how he had deceived the +bishop, pretending to be deaf and dumb; how Mr. Gibson had come upon +him in the study, and what he had said, and how, finally, he himself +had come away in the night. + +Nan listened to it all with the keenest interest. + +"And you had to sleep out of doors," she said; "I'm so sorry, but, if +the bishop is so good, why didn't you stay and tell him all about it, +Tode? Don't you think that that would have been better than coming +away so without thanking him for all he had done--or anything?" + +Tode shook his head emphatically. "You don't know him, Nan," he +replied. "He's good, oh better than anybody else in the world, I +b'lieve, but don't you see, just 'cause _he's_ so good, he hates +cheatin' an' lyin', just _hates_ 'em; an', oh I _couldn't_ +tell him I'd been cheatin' him all this time, an' he so good to me." + +"I know, 'twould have been awful hard to tell him, Tode, but seems to +me 'twould have been best," the girl insisted. + +"I _couldn't_, Nan," Tode repeated, sadly, then impatiently +thrusting aside his sorrow and remorse, he added, + +"Come now, I want to know what you've been doin' while I've been +gone. I used to think an' think 'bout you'n him," glancing at the +baby, "an' wonder what you'd be doin'." + +"Oh, we've got on all right," answered Nan, "I was worried enough when +you didn't come, 'specially when one of the Hunt boys went down and +found that your stand had not been opened. I was sure something had +happened to you, 'cause I knew you never would stay away from us so, +unless something was the matter." + +"Right you are!" put in Tode, emphatically. + +Nan went on, "I was sure there was something wrong, too, when Tag came +here the next day. Poor fellow, I was so sorry for him. One of his +legs was all swollen and he limped dreadfully, and hungry--why, Tode, +he acted as if he were starving. But just as soon as I had fed him he +went off again, and didn't come back till the next morning, and he's +done that way ever since." + +Tag had kept his bright eyes fastened on Nan's face while she talked, +and he gave a little contented whine as Tode stooped and patted his +head. + +"But tell me what you've ben doin', Nan. How'd you get money enough +to hire this room an' fix it up so dandy?" Tode inquired, looking +about admiringly. + +While Nan talked she had been passing busily from table to stove, and +now she said, "Breakfast is ready, Tode. Bring your chair up here and +give me Little Brother." + +Tode reluctantly gave up the baby, and took his seat opposite Nan at +the little table. + +"You've got things fine," he remarked, glancing at the clean towel +that served for a tablecloth, and the neat white dishes and +well-cooked food. He was hungry enough to do full justice to Nan's +cooking, and the girl watched him with much satisfaction, eating +little herself, but feeding the baby, as she went on with her story. + +"When you didn't come back, I knew I must find some way to sell my +cookies and gingerbread and so I made some fresh and went to every +family in this house and asked 'em if they would buy their bread and +all of me instead of at the bakeshops. I told 'em I'd sell at the same +price as the shops and give them better things. Some wouldn't, but +most of them had sense enough to see that it would be a good thing for +them, and after they'd tried it once or twice they were ready enough +to keep on. Now I supply this house and the next one. It keeps me +cooking all day, but I don't mind that. I'm only too glad that I can +earn our living--Little Brother's and mine. Of course, I couldn't be +cooking all day on Mrs. Hunt's stove, and besides they have no room to +spare and we crowded 'em, and so, as soon as I got money enough, I +hired this room. I'm paying for the furniture as fast as I can. It was +all secondhand, of course." + +Tode looked admiringly at the girl, as she ceased speaking. + +"You've got a head," he remarked. "But now about cooking for my +stand. Will you have time to do that too?" + +"Yes indeed," replied Nan, promptly. "I'll find time somehow." + +Tode hesitated, moved uneasily in his chair and finally said, "'Spect +you'll have to trust me for the first lot, Nan. I ain't got no money, +ye know." + +"Why, Tode, have you forgotten that ten dollars you asked me to keep +for you?" + +"No--'course I ain't forgot it, but I thought maybe you'd had to use +it. Twould 'a' been all right if you had, you know." + +"Oh no, I didn't have to use that. Here it is," and Nan brought it out +from some hidden pocket about her dress. + +"Then I'm all right," exclaimed the boy, in a tone of +satisfaction. "I've got to get some clothes first an' then I'll be +ready for business." + +"What's the matter with those clothes?" questioned Nan. + +"Oh, I've got to send these back to the bishop." Tode's face was grave +as he spoke. + +"But--I don't see why. He won't want em," Nan remonstrated. + +"It's this way, Nan." Tode spoke very earnestly. "If I'd been what he +thought I was, I know I could have kept all he gave me, but, you see, +if he'd known I was cheatin' an' lyin' to him all the time he wouldn't +'a' given me a single thing, so don't ye see, I ain't no business to +keep 'em, an' I ain't goin' to keep 'em a minute longer'n I have to." + +Nan shook her head, for Tode's reasoning had not convinced her, but +seeing how strong was his feeling in the matter she said no more, and +in a few minutes the boy went out, his face radiant with satisfaction, +because Little Brother cried after him. + +He invested half his ten dollars in some second-hand clothes, +including shoes and stockings. They were not very satisfactory after +the garments he had been wearing of late, but he said to himself, +"They'll have to do till I can get better ones an' sometime I'm agoin' +to have some shirts an' have 'em washed every week, too." + +Tode's trade, that day, was not very heavy, for it was not yet known +among his regular customers that he had reopened his stand, but he +took care to advertise the fact through those whom he met and he did +not fear but that his business would soon be prospering again. + +That afternoon he succeeded in securing a tiny room in the house with +Nan. It was a dismal little closet, lighted only from the hall, but it +was the best he could do, and Tode considered himself fortunate to +have his dark corner to himself, even though a broken chair and a +canvas cot without bedding of any sort were all the furniture he could +put into it then. Nan shook her head doubtfully when he showed her the +room. + +"Dark and dirty," she said, with a sniff of disgust, as the boy threw +open the door. "You must get somebody to scrub it for you, Tode, and +then whitewash the walls. That will make it sweeter and lighter." + +"So it will," responded the boy, promptly, "but I'll have to do the +scrubbin' an' white-washin' both, myself." + +Nan looked at him doubtfully. "I wonder if you'd get it clean," she +said. "Scrubbing's hard work." + +"You'll see. What'll I scrub it with--a broom?" + +"You ought to have a scrub-brush, but I haven't any. You'll have to do +it with an old broom and a cloth. I can let you have the broom and I +guess we can get a cloth of Mrs. Hunt. You going to do it now?" she +added, as Tode began to pull off his coat. + +"Right now," he answered. "You see, Nan, I've got loads of things to +do, an' I can't be wastin' time." + +"What things?" questioned Nan, curiously. + +"Oh--I'll tell you about them after awhile," replied the boy. "The +broom in your room?" + +"Yes, I'll bring it to you," and Nan hurried off. + +She came back with an old pail full of hot water, a piece of soap, a +broom and a cloth, and then she proceeded to show Tode how to clean +the woodwork and floor, thoroughly, with special attention to the dark +corners which looked, indeed, as if they had never been visited by a +broom. Nan was a thorough little housewife, and she longed to do the +whole work herself, but Tode would not allow that, so she could only +stand and look on, wondering inwardly how a boy could handle a broom +so awkwardly. But if he was slow and awkward about it, Tode was in +earnest, and he looked with much satisfaction at the result of his +labor when it was completed. + +"You'll have to wash the floor again after you've whitewashed the +walls," Nan said, "but it needed two scrubbings, anyhow." + +Tode looked at it ruefully. "Oh, did it?" he said. "I think one such +scrubbing as that ought to last it a year." + +Nan laughed. "If you'll carry out my bread and things to-morrow, I'll +do your whitewashing for you," she said. + +But Tode shook his head. "I'll carry out your stuff all right," he +answered, "but I ain't a-goin' to have a girl doin' my work for me." + +He bought the lime and paid also for the use of a pail and brush, and +the next day he put a white coat on his walls, and when this was done, +he was much better satisfied with his quarters. Nan offered to lend +him her shawl in place of a blanket, but he guessed that she needed it +herself and refused her offer. + + + +VII. AFTER TODE'S DEPARTURE + + +In the bishop's household, Mrs. Martin was always one of the earliest +to rise in the morning, and just as Tode sat down to breakfast with +Nan and Little Brother, the housekeeper was going downstairs. Tode's +door stood open and she saw that he was not in the room. Her quick +eyes noted also the pile of neatly folded garments on a chair beside +the bed. She stepped into the room and looked around. Then she hurried +to the study, knowing that the boy loved to stay there, but the study +was unoccupied. + +By the time breakfast was ready she knew that the boy had left the +house, but the bishop refused to believe it, nor would he be convinced +until the house had been searched from attic to cellar. When +Mr. Gibson made his appearance, a gleam of satisfaction shone in his +narrow eyes as he learned of Tode's disappearance. + +"I was afraid something like this would happen," he remarked, +gravely. "It's a hopeless kind of business, trying to make anything +out of such material. I've had my suspicions of that boy for some +time." + +"Don't be too quick to condemn him, Mr. Gibson," exclaimed the +bishop, hastily. "He may have had some good reason for going away +so. I've no doubt he thought he had, but I had grown to love the lad +and I shall miss him sadly." + +"Did you never suspect that he was not deaf and dumb, as he pretended +to be?" the secretary asked. + +The bishop looked up quickly. "Why, no, indeed, I never had such an +idea," he answered. An unpleasant smile flickered over the +secretary's thin lips as he went on, "I heard the boy talking to +himself, here in this room, last evening. He can hear and speak as +well as you or I." + +"Oh, I am sorry! I am sorry!" said the bishop, sadly, and then he +turned to his desk, and sitting down, hid his face in his hands, and +was silent. The secretary cast more than one swift, sidewise glance at +him, but dared say no more then. + +After a while the bishop drew his Bible toward him. It opened at the +fourteenth chapter of John, and there lay Tode's poor little soiled +and blotted note. The bishop read it with tear-dimmed eyes, read it +again and again, and finally slipped it into an envelope, and replaced +it between the leaves of his Bible. He said nothing about it to his +secretary, and presently he went to his own room, where for a long +time he walked back and forth, thinking about the boy, and how he +might find him again. + +Then Brown came to him with a telegram summoning him to the sickbed of +his only sister, and within an hour he left the city, and was absent +two weeks. + +Meantime Tode, the morning after his scrubbing and whitewashing +operations, had carefully folded the clothes he had worn when he left +the bishop's house and tied them up in an old newspaper. Into one of +the pockets of the jacket he had put a note which ran thus: + + +DEAR MRS. MARTIN: + +Pleas giv thes cloes to the bishop and tell him i wud not have took +them away if i had had any others. I did not take shoes or stockins. +I keep the littel testament and i read in it evry day. Tell him i am +trying to be good and when i get good enuf I shall go and see him. You +was good to me but he was so good that he made me hate myself and +evrything bad. I can never be bad again while i remember him. + +TODE BRYAN. + + +He hired a boy whom he knew, to carry the bundle to the bishop's +house, and from behind a tree-box further down the street, he watched +and saw it taken in by Brown. The boy's heart was beating hard and +fast, as he stood there longing, yet dreading, to see the bishop +himself come out of the house. But the bishop was far away, and Tode +walked sadly homeward, casting many a wistful, lingering glance +backward, as he went. + +Brown carried the package gingerly to Mrs. Martin, for the boy who +had delivered it was not over clean, and Mrs. Martin opened it with +some suspicion, but when she saw the clothes she recognised them +instantly, and finding the note in the pocket read it with wet eyes. + +"I knew that wasn't a bad boy," she said to herself, "and this proves +it. He's as honest as the day, or he wouldn't have sent back these +clothes--the poor little fellow. Well, well! I hope the bishop can +find him when he gets back, and as to the boy's pretending to be deaf +and dumb, I'm sure there was something underneath that if we only knew +it. Anyhow, I do hope I'll see the little fellow again sometime." + +When the bishop returned the accumulated work of his weeks of absence +so pressed upon him that for a while he had no time for anything else, +and when at last he was free to search for Tode, he could find no +trace of him. + +As for Tode, he had never once thought of the possibility of the +bishop's searching for him. He looked forward to seeing his friend +again sometime, but that time he put far away when he himself should +be "more fit," as he said to himself. + +One evening soon after his return, Nan had a long talk with him, a +talk that left her wondering greatly at the change in his thoughts and +purposes, and which made her regard him with quite a new feeling of +respect. + +"Nan," he began, "I told you I'd got loads of things to do now." + +"Yes?" The girl looked at him inquiringly. + +Tode was silent for a little. It was harder for him to speak than he +had thought it would be. + +"You see," he went on, slowly, "I've been mean as dirt all my +life. You don't know what mean things I've done, an' I ain't goin' to +tell ye, only that I know now I've got to turn straight around an' not +do 'em any more. I've got to make a man of myself," he drew himself up +as he spoke, "a real man--the kind that helps other folks up. I can't +say just what I mean, but I feel it myself," he added, with a +half-appealing glance at Nan. + +She had listened attentively with her eyes fastened on his earnest +face. Now she said softly, "You mean--you want to be the kind of man +the bishop is, don't you?" + +"Oh, I couldn't ever be _really_ like him," protested the boy, +quickly, "but, well, I'm goin' to try to be a sort of shadow of him. I +mean I'm goin' to try to amount to something myself, an' do what I can +to help other poor fellers up instead of down. I'm goin' to lend a +hand 'mongst the folks 'round here, just a little you know, as he does +'mongst the poor people he goes to see. But I've got some other +things to do too. I've got some money to pay back, an' I've got to +find a feller that I helped to pull down." + +And thereupon, Tode told the story of Mrs. Russell's pocketbook and +her search for Jack Finney. He told it all quite frankly, not trying +in the least to excuse or lessen his own guilt in the matter. + +"It will take you a long time to save up so much money, Tode," Nan +said when he paused. + +"Yes, unless I can find some way to earn more, but I can't help +that. I'll do the best I can, an' I've got some notions in my head." + +He talked over with her some of his plans and projects, and as she +listened, she thought to herself, "He's getting 'way ahead of me, but +I'm afraid he'll get into trouble at first." + +And she was not mistaken. Tode was now so thoroughly in earnest +himself that he forgot to take into consideration the fact that those +whom he meant to help up might prefer to be left to go down in their +own fashion. His old associates speedily discovered that a great +change had come over Tode Bryan, and the change did not meet with +their approval. They called it "mighty cheeky" of him to be "pokin' +his nose" into their affairs, and they would show him that he'd better +stop it. So Tode soon found himself exceedingly unpopular, and, what +was worse, in a way, under a boycott that threatened to ruin his +business. + +He fell into the way of carrying his trials and perplexities to Nan, +and talking them over with her. She had plenty of that common sense, +which is not very common after all, and she often made him see the +reason of his failures, while at the same time he was sure of her +sympathy. + +One evening Tode appeared in her room with his little Testament in his +hand. There was a perplexed expression in his eyes as he said, "Nan, +'bout readin' this, you know--I've been peggin' away at the first +part, an' I can't make nothin' of it. It's just a string of funny +words, names, I s'pose. _I_ don't see no sense to it." + +Nan glanced at the page to which he had opened. It was the first +chapter of Matthew. + +"Oh, that's all it is, just a lot of names. You can skip all that, +Tode," she answered, easily. + +"No I can't, neither," replied the boy, decidedly. "If I begin to +skip, no knowin' where I'll stop. If it's readin' this book that makes +folks good, I've got to know all 'bout it. Say, can't you read this +with me an' tell me how to call all these jawbreakers?" + +Nan looked rather shocked at the boy's free and easy reference to the +Book, but seeing from his grave face and serious manner that he was +very much in earnest, she sat down with him, and the two young heads +bent over the page together. + +"I remember reading this chapter with mother," Nan said, gently, "and +she told me how to pronounce these names, but I can't remember all of +them now. I'll do the best I can, though," and she read slowly the +first seventeen verses, Tode repeating each name after her. + +"Whew!" he exclaimed, in a tone of intense relief, when the task was +ended, "that's 'bout the toughest job ever I tackled." + +"Well, you see, you needn't read all that again. The rest of the +chapter is different. It's all about Jesus," Nan said. + +Tode read the remaining verses slowly by himself, but he shook his +head in a dissatisfied way as he closed the book. "That's easier than +the names to read, but I don't seem to get much out of it. Guess I'm +too thick-headed," he said, in a discouraged tone. + +"Tode," exclaimed Nan, suddenly, "you ought to go to some +Sunday-school. Then you'd learn all about the Bible and the things you +want to know." + +"Might be a good scheme, that's a fact," he answered, +thoughtfully. "Reckon I'll try it on anyhow, an' see how it works." + +"Yes, do. I always used to go before mother was sick. If you have a +good teacher you'll like it, I'm sure." + +"There's a mission school down near my stand. I'll have a try at it +next Sunday an' see what it's like," Tode said. + +So the very next day he went to the mission chapel, and, from the +notice on the door, found out the hours of service, and the following +Sunday he was on hand in due season. As he went somewhat doubtfully up +the steps, he saw in the vestibule a young man, who stepped forward +and held out his hand, saying cordially, + +"Glad to see you here. Are you a stranger?" + +Tode wasn't quite sure what a stranger might be, but he muttered, "I +ain't never been here before." + +"Then I'm glad I happened to meet you. Will you come into my class?" + +Tode nodded and followed the young man into the chapel, which was +already nearly full of boys and girls. + +"My name is Scott. What is yours?" inquired the stranger, as he led +the way to his own corner of the room. + +Tode gave his name, and Mr. Scott introduced him to half a dozen boys +who had already taken their places in his class. One of these boys was +Dick Hunt. He gave Tode a careless nod by way of greeting, as the +latter dropped into the seat next him. + +To Tode's great satisfaction the lesson chanced to be on the birth of +the Lord Jesus, and Mr. Scott told the boys the whole story so clearly +and vividly, that Tode at least was intensely interested. It was all +new and fresh to him, and he was listening eagerly to every word, when +suddenly Dick Hunt ran a long pin deep into his leg. The pain made +him start and almost cry out, but he suppressed the cry as he turned +and gave Dick a savage pinch that made him writhe, as he exclaimed in +a threatening tone, "You stop that!" + +Mr. Scott turned grave, inquiring eyes on the two, as he asked: + +"What's the matter, Dick?" + +"He's a pinchin' me--Tode Bryan is. He give me an awful tweak when you +wasn't a lookin'." + +"Is that so?" Mr. Scott asked, and Tode, with a scornfully defiant +glance at Dick, answered promptly, "Yes." + +"I am sorry, Tode," said Mr. Scott; "you can sit here on the other +side." + +Tode's face flushed a little as he changed his seat, but now another +of the boys, having a grudge against Dick, cried out, + +"Hunt stuck a pin in him first; I seen him do it." + +"You hush up!" muttered Dick, with a scowl. + +Just then the superintendent's bell sounded and the lesson time was +over. + +When the school was dismissed, Mr. Scott detained Tode. + +"Why didn't you tell me that Dick had stuck a pin into you first," the +teacher asked, rapidly turning the leaves of his Bible as he spoke. + +"I ain't a sneak like he is," answered Tode, briefly. + +Mr. Scott found the place that he wanted, and keeping his finger +between the leaves, looked thoughtfully at the boy before him. + +"You told me that your name is Tode. That is what the boys call +you. It isn't your real name, is it?" he asked, with a friendly look. + +Tode puckered his forehead into a puzzled frown at the question. + +"N-no," he answered, slowly. "There's some more to it, but I can't +think what 'tis. Wish't I could." + +"You've no father or mother?" + +"No--never had none since I's big enough to know anything," was the +careless reply. + +Mr. Scott laid his hand kindly on the lad's shoulder. + +"My boy," he said, slowly and earnestly, "I believe yours is a very +beautiful name. It must be Theodore." + +"That's it! That's it!" exclaimed Tode, excitedly. "I 'member +somebody told it to me once, an' I know that's it. How'd you know it +so quick?" He looked up wonderingly into his teacher's face as he +asked the question. + +"I once knew another Theodore who was nicknamed Tode; but, my boy, do +you know what your name means?" + +Tode shook his head. "Didn't know names meant anything," he answered. + +"But they do. Theodore means the gift of God. A boy with such a name +as that ought to count for something in the world." + +"I mean to." The boy uttered the words slowly and emphatically. + +Mr. Scott's face brightened. "Do you mean that you love and serve the +Lord Jesus, Theodore?" he asked, softly. + +The boy shook his head half sadly, half perplexedly. + +"I don't know nothin' much 'bout Him," he answered, with a gentleness +most strange and unusual in him, "but I've promised to do the right +thing every time now--an' I'm a-goin' to do it." + +"You have promised--whom, Theodore?" + +"Promised myself--but I don't know nothin' much 'bout what is the +right thing," he added, in a discouraged tone. + +"You'll soon learn if you're in earnest, my boy. This Book will tell +you all you need to know. Can you read?" + +"Some." + +"Then read this verse for me, will you?" Mr. Scott held out his Bible +and pointed to the verse. + +Slowly and stumblingly the boy read, "Dearly beloved, avenge not +yourselves," and again, + +"Recompense to no man evil for evil." + +Seeing that Tode did not understand the meaning of what he had read, +Mr. Scott explained the passages to him. The boy listened attentively, +then he exclaimed in a tone of dismay, + +"But does it mean that a feller can't never strike back?" + +"That's what it says." + +Tode pondered this unpalatable statement with a clouded face. + +"But what ye goin' to do when some other feller cuts up rough with +ye?" + +"Find some other way to get even with him." + +"But I don't see--what other way is there 'cept hittin' him a harder +one'n he gives you?" + +Mr. Scott opened his Bible again and pointed to the last two verses of +the twelfth chapter of Romans. + +Tode went home that day with his mind in a tumult. These new ideas did +not suit him at all. A "word and a blow," and the blow first had been +his method of settling such questions heretofore, and it seemed to him +far the better way. + +He took a roundabout route home, for he did not want to see Nan until +he had thought out this matter to his own satisfaction. To help people +poorer or weaker than himself, or to "keep straight" himself, and help +others to do likewise--this was one thing. To meekly submit to ill +treatment and "take a blow" from a fellow whom he "could whip with his +little finger"--this was quite another and, to one of Tode's +temperament, a far more distasteful thing. + +The boy had reached no conclusion when he finally went home to +supper. He was silent and thoughtful all the evening, but it was not +until the following day that he spoke of the matter to Nan. + +Nan listened in perplexed silence to what he had to say. She had been +well taught while her mother lived, but she had never given these +subjects any real, deep thought, as Tode was doing now. She began to +feel that this rough, untaught street boy was likely to get far ahead +of her if he should keep on pondering over questions like this. Even +now she could give him but little help. + +Seeing this, Tode took up his Testament again, and read on and on +until he had finished the book of Matthew, and gained a pretty clear +idea of the life and death of Jesus the Christ. There was much, of +course, that he did not understand at all. Many of the words and +expressions conveyed no meaning to him, but yet he gathered enough to +understand, in a measure, what that Life was, and he began dimly to +realise why the bishop gave so much of his time and thought to God's +poor. The boy pondered these things in his heart, and a new world +seemed to open before him. + +"Nan," he said at last, "I've found out what my real name is. It's +Theodore." + +"Theodore," repeated the girl. "Well, I'm glad to know it, for I never +did like to call you Tode. How did you find out?" + +"Mr. Scott said it to me, and I knew as soon as I heard it that that +was it." + +"Then I won't ever call you Tode again. I shall call you Theo. I like +that." + +The boy liked it too. It gave him a strange thrill of pleasure every +time he thought of what Mr. Scott had said about the meaning of his +name. + + + +VIII. THEO'S SHADOW WORK + + +The days that followed were very busy ones for both Nan and Theo. The +girl spent most of her time over the stove or the moulding board, and +the boy, delivering the supplies to many of the families in the two +big tenement houses, attending to his stand, and selling evening +papers, found the days hardly long enough for all that he wanted to +do. + +As he went from room to room with Nan's bread and soup and +gingerbread, he soon learned much about the different families and +found plenty of opportunities to serve as the "bishop's shadow," in +these poor homes. Money he had not to give, for every penny that he +could possibly spare was laid aside for a special purpose now, but he +found countless ways to carry help and sunshine to sad and sore +hearts, without money. + +One morning he left Nan's room with a basket piled with bread--brown +and white--in one hand, and a big tin pail full of boiled hominy in +the other. He went first to the top floor, stopping at one door after +another, where dirty, frowzy women and children opened at the sound of +his cheery whistle. He handed in the loaves, or the measures of hominy +with a gay word or a joke that more than once banished a frown from a +woman's worn face, or checked the tears of a tired, hungry +child. Children were getting to be fond of the boy now, and he liked +it. + +In one room there were two families and half a dozen children. In one +corner, on a rickety couch was a crippled boy, who had lain there day +after day, through long, weary months. He was listening intently for +that whistle outside the door, and when he heard it, his dull eyes +brightened, and he called out eagerly, + +"Oh, tell him to come in a minute--_just_ a minute!" + +The woman who opened the door, said indifferently, "Tommy wants you to +come in a minute." + +Theo stepped over to the tumbled couch, and smiled down into the +wistful eyes of the sick boy. + +"Hello, old man!" he said, cheerily. "I've brought you something," and +out of his pocket he pulled a golden chrysanthemum that he had picked +up in the street the day before, and had kept all night in water. It +was not very fresh now, but Tommy snatched it hungrily, and gazed at +it with a happy smile. + +"Oh, how pretty--how pretty it is!" he cried, softly smoothing the +golden petals with his little bony forefinger. "Can I keep it, truly?" + +[Illustration: "Oh, how pretty,--how pretty it is!"] + +"'Course. I brought it for you," Theo answered, his round, freckled +face reflecting the boy's delight. "But I must scoot. Folks'll be +rowin' me if their bread's late." + +He ran off leaving the sick boy with the flower held lovingly against +his thin white cheek, while his eyes followed wistfully Theo's strong, +active figure as he hurried away. + +On the next floor, an old woman, bent and stiffened by rheumatism, sat +alone all day, while her children were away at work. She could not get +out of her chair, or help herself in any way. Her breakfast would be +a penny's worth of Nan's hominy, but on this morning her children had +gone off without even setting out a dish, or a cup of water for her. + +Tode brought her a saucer and spoon, filled a cup with fresh water +from the faucet, and pulled up the curtain so that the sunlight would +shine in upon her. + +"There, old lady," he said, brightly, when this was done, "now you're +all right, an' I'll be in again an' fix your dinner for ye." + +The old woman's dim eyes looked after him, and she muttered a word of +thanks as she turned slowly to her breakfast. + +The boy wasted no minutes, for he had none to spare, but even when he +did not step inside a door at all, he always had a smile or a bright +word ready for each customer, and in lives where sin or grinding +poverty has destroyed all hope, and life has become simply dull, +dogged endurance of suffering, a cheerful word or smile has a +wonderful power. These wretched women and forlorn little children had +already begun to look forward to the coming of the "bread boy," as the +little ones called him, as a bright spot in their days. In almost +every room he managed to leave a hint of cheer behind him, or at least +to lighten a little the cloudy atmosphere. + +His pail and basket empty, he ran back to Nan's room for his own +supplies, and having opened his stand he served his customers, taking +his own breakfast between whiles, as he had opportunity. He sold the +morning papers, too, at his stand, and between twelve and one o'clock +he was as busy as a boy could well be. After that hour few customers +appeared, and then, having made his midday meal from whatever he had +left, he closed his stand and went home. + +Then was his time for a little more of what Nan called his "shadow +work," when he refilled with fresh water the cup of the rheumatic old +woman, or carried her a cup of tea that Nan had made for her, adding +to it, perhaps, a cooky or a sandwich that remained from his stock. Or +he glanced into a room where two or three children were locked in all +day while the mothers were away at work--and attended to the fire for +them. Often he found time for a five minutes' chat with crippled +Tommy, and now and then he walked awhile with a sick baby in his arms +as he had seen the bishop do that day long before. They were all +little things that the boy did, but as he kept on doing them day after +day, he found in this service for others such happiness as he never +had known before. + +Tommy's delight in the half-withered chrysanthemum set Theo to +thinking, and the result of his thinking was that he began to frequent +the flower stalls and pick up the broken blossoms that were +occasionally thrown aside there. + +One day a woman who was selling flowers, said to him, "Say, boy, what +do you do with the flowers you pick up? I've seen you 'round here +after 'em lots o' times lately." + +"Give 'em to sick folks an' poor ones that can't get out anywheres," +replied the boy, promptly. + +The woman searched his face to see if he were deceiving her, but there +was nothing sly or underhanded in the clear eyes that returned her +gaze so frankly. + +"Hm-m," she murmured, thoughtfully. "What do you do Saturday nights, +boy?" + +"Nothin' much, after I've sold out my papers." + +"Well, Saturday night's our busy time here; one of our busy times, +that is, an' if you want to come 'round an' help for an hour or two, +I'll pay you in the flowers that are left over." + +Theo's eyes brightened, but he was shrewd, and was not going to bind +himself to an agreement that might not be satisfactory. + +"I'll come next Sat'day an' try it," he said. + +"All right," and the woman turned to a customer. + +Theo was on hand promptly the next Saturday evening. He found that the +flower woman wanted him to carry home pots of growing plants for lady +purchasers. He was kept busy until nine o'clock, and received in +payment a good-sized basket full of violets, roses, heliotrope and +carnations. Some had short stems, and some were a little wilted, but +the boy was well content with his pay. + +"Most of them will freshen up and look bright as ever if you put them +to-night in a pail of water where they'll have plenty of room," the +woman said; "and here--this is for good luck," and she handed him a +little pot of geranium with a cluster of pink blossoms. + +That brought a smile of genuine delight to the boy's face. + +"Oh!" he cried, "that's dandy! I'll give it to Nan." + +"And who's Nan--your sister?" questioned the woman. + +"N--no, not quite. Guess she's as good's my sister, though. Shall I +come next Sat'day, ma'am?" replied the boy. + +"Yes, come next Saturday, an' right along, if you keep on doing as +well's you've done to-night." + +Theo almost ran home, so eager was he to show Nan his treasures. He +had never cared very much for flowers himself, but he was beginning +now to realise their value to others, and he was sure that Nan would +be delighted with the geranium. + +He was not disappointed. The girl's eyes sparkled at sight of the +delicate pink blossoms and she thanked him so heartily that he could +only mutter, "Oh, shucks! 'Tain't nothin' much." + +Then he showed her his basket of cut flowers, and she exclaimed +delightedly over them as she lifted them out as tenderly as if they +had been alive, and placed them carefully in a pail of fresh water in +which she had sprinkled a little salt. + +"Mother used to put salt in the water to keep flowers fresh," she +said, "and oh, won't it be _lovely_ to carry these around to the +shut-ins, tomorrow, Theo! I think Mrs. Hunt would like some," she +added. + +"All right. Pick out what you like an' take 'em in to her now." + +Nan selected some of the freshest blossoms and went across with them +to her neighbour, leaving Theo with the baby, who was asleep. She was +gone some time, and when she returned her face was grave. + +"What's the matter? Didn't she like 'em?" asked the boy. + +"Yes, indeed, she was ever so pleased with them, and told me to thank +you for sending them to her--but, Theo, she's worrying so over Dick. +She thinks he's going all wrong." + +"So he is," answered Theo, soberly. + +"And can't you do anything about it?" + +"Don't see's I can. He's in with a mean lot o' fellers, 'n he's no +good anyhow, nowadays." + +"But there must be some good in him. His father and mother are so +good," pleaded Nan. + +"Mrs. Hunt was crying when I went in. She says Dick often stays out +till midnight or after now, and she's afraid he'll be locked up." + +"Serve him right if he was," muttered Theo, under his breath. + +"He's lost the place his father got for him," added Nan. + +"'Course. Nobody'd keep such a feller long." + +Nan shook her head sorrowfully, thinking of Dick's mother. Theo said +no more, and soon left the room. Nan thought he had gone to bed, but +instead, he went out and walked slowly and somewhat doubtfully toward +a saloon which he had seen Dick enter more than once of late. Theo, +himself, used to go there, but he had not been near the place for many +a week. He did not want to go in now, and he waited about outside, +wishing that Dick would come out, and yet uncertain what to do if he +did come. Finally he pushed open the door and went up the stairs. A +dozen or so boys were there, many of whom he knew, and among them was +Dick. The proprietor of the place gave the boy a warm welcome, and +some of the boys greeted him gaily, but Dick scowled as Theo sat down +beside him. + +He waited until the loud talk began again, then he said in a low tone, +"Dick, I came after you. Will you go home with me now? Your mother's +frettin'." + +Dick's face darkened angrily. + +"Who made you boss over me?" he shouted, springing from his seat with +a threatening gesture. "You mind your own business, will you?" + +Theo's cheeks flushed as every face in the room was turned toward him. + +"What's the row?" + +"What's he doin'?" + +"What does he want?" + +"Put him out! Put him out!" + +These shouts and others mingled with oaths as all crowded about the +two boys. + +"There's no row, an' nothin' to get mad about," said Theo, trying to +speak quietly. "Dick's mother's frettin', an' I asked him to go home +with me. That's all there is about it." + +"An' enough it is too," exclaimed one of the boys. "Dick's big enough +to know when to go home, ain't he?" + +"What's he got to do with me or my mother?" growled Dick, "I'll go +home when I get good an' ready, an' not before." + +"An' it's time for _you_ to go home now!" exclaimed the +proprietor of the place, elbowing his way to the front of the group, +and addressing Theo. "We don't want none o' your sort around here. Now +clear out--d'ye hear?" + +Seeing that it was useless to stay longer, Theo departed, followed by +taunting cries and yells, from all in the room. + +He went gloomily homeward, telling himself that he had been a fool to +try to do anything for Dick Hunt. Dick was "no good anyhow." But, as +he passed her door, Mrs. Hunt opened it and peered anxiously out. Her +eyes were red and swollen, and she turned back with a disappointed air +as she saw Theo. The next moment however, she stepped out into the +hall, pushing the door to behind her. + +"Tode," she whispered, "do you know where my Dick is?" + +The boy answered reluctantly, "He's down at Todd's." + +Mrs. Hunt put her apron to her eyes and sobbed softly. "Oh, dear," she +moaned, "his father's gone to look for him, an' if he finds him there +he'll most kill him--he's that mad with the boy for the way he's been +goin' on lately." + +Theo stood silent, not knowing what to say, and then Mrs. Hunt turned +back into the room while he went up another flight to his. He had just +reached his own door when he heard loud, angry voices accompanied by +scuffling sounds on the stairs below, and he knew that Mr. Hunt had +found Dick, and was bringing him home. + +After Theodore had gone out, Nan had put all the flowers into two big +dishes with plenty of water, and the next morning she was up early and +separated them, putting together two or three pinks or a rose with its +buds and a bit of foliage, or a cluster of geranium blossoms and green +leaves. + +When Theo came for them she laid the small clusters carefully in a +basket, and sprinkled them with fresh water, then as she stooped and +buried her face among the fragrant, beautiful things she exclaimed, + +"Oh Theo, I wish I had time to go with you, and see how happy you make +them all with these beautiful, lovely flowers." + +"I'll begin with you," laughed the boy. "Pick out the ones you like +best." + +But Nan put her hands resolutely behind her and shook her head. + +"No, I'm not sick and I've had the pleasure of seeing them all, and +fixing them, beside my pot of geranium. That's plenty for me." + +Theodore looked critically at her, then at the blossoms; then he +picked out three delicate pink carnations. + +"No, no! Please don't, Theo," began the girl, but with a laughing +glance at her, Theodore laid the blossoms in Little Brother's small +white fingers, and hurried away. + +He went first to Tommy O'Brien's room. The sick boy's weary face +brightened at sight of him, but it fairly beamed when Theodore held up +the basket saying, "Choose any one of 'em Tommy--the very prettiest of +all." + +"O-oh!" cried Tommy. "I never saw so many. Oh, Theo, where did you get +'em all?" + +Theo told him while the woman and the children crowded about the +basket to see and exclaim over the contents. + +Tommy chose a spray of lily of the valley and Theo added a pink rose +and bud. Then he gave a blossom to each of the children and to their +mothers as well, and went away leaving softened faces and smiles in +place of frowns and sullen words. + +The old woman whose breakfast was so often forgotten was not alone +to-day. Her daughters were at home, but they were not paying much +attention to her. At first she peered stupidly with her half-blind +eyes into Theo's basket, then suddenly she cried out, + +"Oh, I smell 'em! I smell vi'lets. Where be they? Where be they?" + +There was one little bunch of violets in the basket. Theo snatched it +up and laid it in the wrinkled, trembling hands. The old woman held +the blossoms against her withered cheek, then she pressed them to her +lips, and two big tears rolled slowly down her face. + +"La! Ma's cryin' over them vi'lets. Here Tode, gi' me some o' them +bright ones. Gi' me a rose!" cried one of the young women, and Theo +handed each of them a rose and went away in silence. He glanced back +as he left the room. The old woman was still holding the violets to +her cheek and it was plain, even to the boy, that her thoughts were +far away. + +So, from room to room he went and nowhere did he fail of a glad +welcome, because of the gifts he offered. In the dirtiest rooms, the +most hardened of the women, the roughest and rudest of the children, +seemed to become momentarily gentle and tender when the flowers were +laid in their hands. + +When all had been given away except one rose, Theodore paused and +considered. There were several rooms that he had not visited. To +which of these should he carry this last rose? + +Not to Old Man Schneider surely. He was standing at the moment outside +Old Man Schneider's door. The old man was the terror of all the +children in the house, so ugly and profane was he, and so hideous to +look at. Fearless as Theodore was--the sight of Old Man Schneider +always made him shudder, and the boy had never yet spoken to him. + +While he stood there trying to decide who should have the rose, he +heard a deep, hollow groan, and surely it came from the room of Old +Man Schneider. Theodore stood still and listened. There came another +groan and another, and then he knocked on the door. There was no +response and he opened it and went in. He had been in many dirty, +dismal rooms, but never in one so dirty and so dismal as this. It +looked as if it never had been clean. The only furniture was a +tumble-down bed in one corner, a chair and a broken stove. On the bed, +the old man was lying, covered with rags. He fixed his sunken eyes on +the boy and roughly demanded what he wanted, but even as he spoke he +groaned again. + +"You are sick--can't I do something for you?" asked the boy. + +The old man gazed at him for a moment, then he broke into a torrent of +angry words, ending with, + +"Get out o' my sight. I hate boys. I hate everybody an' everything." + +Theodore stood still. The rose in his hand looked strangely out of +place in that squalid room--but--beautifully out of place, for it +seemed to shed light and color as well as perfume through the close, +unhealthy atmosphere. + +"Clear out, I say. Why don't ye go?" The old man tried to shake a +threatening fist, but his arm dropped weakly, and in spite of himself +he moaned with pain. + +"Can't I bring a doctor or somebody to help you?" the boy asked +gently. + +"Ain't nobody ter help me. Don't I tell ye I hate everybody?" was the +fierce reply. + +Theodore gazed about him. There seemed nothing that he could do. He +hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and laid the beautiful +rose against the dark, knotted fingers on the ragged bed-covering, and +then he went away, closing the door behind him. Stopping only to put +his basket into his room and lock the door, he hurried off to the +dispensary and asked that a doctor be sent to Old Man Schneider as +soon as possible. He waited until the doctor was at liberty and then +returned with him. There was no response to their knock, and again +Theodore opened the door and went in, the doctor following. + +The old man did not move or look up even when the doctor spoke to +him. He lay as Theo had last seen him only that his fingers were +closed tightly over the stem of the rose, and one crimson petal lay on +the pillow close to the sunken cheek. The old man was dead--but who +could tell what thoughts of other days--of sinless days long past, +perhaps--may have been awakened in his heart by that fragrant, +beautiful bit of God's handiwork? + +As Theodore went quietly up the stairs, he was glad that he had not +passed by Old Man Schneider's door. + + + +IX. THEO IN TROUBLE + + +Theo went regularly now to the mission school on Sunday afternoons, +and Mr. Scott had become much interested in him. + +One day Mr. Scott pleased Theo immensely by going to the boy's stand +and getting his lunch there, and not long after he went one evening to +the boy's room. He found the place dark and the door locked, but as he +was turning away, Theo came running up the stairs. + +"Oh!" he cried out, in a tone of pleased surprise, as he saw his +teacher. "Wait a minute an' I'll get a light." + +Having lighted his lamp, the boy sat down on the cot, giving the +broken stool to his visitor. Mr. Scott's heart was full of sympathy +as he glanced around the forlorn little room and remembered that it +was all the home that the boy had. + +"Theodore," he said, after talking a while, "what do you do evenings?" + +"Oh, sometimes I stay in Nan's room, an' sometimes I drop in an' talk +to Tommy O'Brien or some of the other sick ones in the house, an' +sometimes I go somewheres outside. Saturday nights I help at a flower +stand." + +"Why don't you go to an evening school? I think that would be the best +place for you to spend your evenings," said Mr. Scott. + +This was a new idea to the boy. He thought it over in silence. + +Mr. Scott went on, "It's not your fault, Theodore, that you have had +no schooling, thus far, but now, you can go to an evening school and +it will be your fault if you grow up ignorant. You will be able to do +far more and better work in the world, with an education, than without +one. The more you know yourself the better you can help others, you +see." + +"Yes," sighed the boy. "I guess that's so, but I 'spect I'll find it +tough work learning." + +"I'm not so sure of that. It will be rather hard at first, because +you're not used to studying; but I think you are bright enough to go +ahead pretty fast when you once get a good start. Now who is this +girl, that I've heard you mention several times--Nan is her name?" + +"Oh, yes, Nan. Come on, I want you to see her an' our baby," replied +the boy, eagerly. + +Somewhat uncertain as to what kind of a girl this might be, yet +anxious to know as much as possible about Theo's associates and +surroundings, Mr. Scott followed the boy down the stairs. + +"Nan, here's my teacher, Mr. Scott, come to see the baby," Theodore +exclaimed, as he unceremoniously pushed open the door and ushered in +the visitor. + +Mr. Scott was more taken aback than was Nan, at this abrupt +introduction. The girl coloured a little, but quietly arose and shook +hands with the gentleman, while Theo exclaimed: + +"Good! Little Brother ain't asleep yet. This is our baby, +Mr. Scott. Ain't he a daisy? Take him." + +Now, Mr. Scott was a young man and totally unused to "taking" babies, +but the boy had lifted the little one from the bed and was holding him +out to his teacher with such a happy face that the young man felt that +it would never do to disappoint him. So he received the baby gingerly +in both hands and set him on his knee, but he did not know what to say +or do to amuse the child, and it was an immense relief to him when +Little Brother held out his hands to Theo, and the boy took him again +saying, + +"Ye don't know him yet, do ye, Little Brother? You will though, by +'n' by," wherein Theo was more of a prophet than he imagined. + +Relieved of the child, Mr. Scott turned to Nan and the colour rose in +his face as he saw a gleam of amusement in the girl's dark eyes, but +Theo's ready tongue filled up the momentary pause, and soon all three +were chatting like old friends, and when Mr. Scott took his departure, +it was with the conviction that his new scholar was fortunate in +having Nan for a friend. At the same time he realised that this great +tenement with its mixed community was a most unsuitable place for a +girl like Nan, and determined that she should be gotten into better +surroundings as soon as it could be accomplished. + +His interest in Theodore was deepened by this visit to his room and +friends. He felt that there was something unusual in the boy, and +determined to keep watch of him and give him any needed help. + +It was November now and the night was chilly. As Mr. Scott left the +tenement house he buttoned his thick overcoat about him, and shivered +as he thought of Theodore's bare cot, with not a pillow or a blanket +even. + +"Not a single bit of bedding," he said, to himself, "and no fire! That +will never do, in weather like this." + +The next day he mentioned the case to the aunt with whom he lived, +with the result that a couple of pillows and a warm comforter were +sent before night to Nan's room, addressed to Theodore Bryan, and for +the remainder of the winter the boy at least did not suffer from cold +at night. + +Theodore grew to like his teacher much as the weeks passed, and often +after Sunday-school the two walked home together. Some of the boys +that had been longer in the class rather resented this friendship, the +more so as Theo was by no means popular among them just at this time. + +"He's gettin' too good, Tode Bryan is," one of them said, one +Sunday. "He walked home with teacher last week, an' now he's a doin' +it again." He glanced gloomily after the two, as he spoke. + +"I'd like ter punch his head; that's what I'd like to do," put in +another. "He pitched inter me for swearin' t'other day." + +"He's a fine one to talk 'bout swearin'," added a third. "I've heard +him goin' it hot an' heavy many a time." + +"Oh yes, but he's settin' up fer a saint now, ye know," said Dick +Hunt, scornfully. "I owe him a lickin,' an' he'll get it too 'fore +he's many days older." + +"What for, Dicky?" questioned another. + +"What for? For blabbin' to my daddy an' sendin' him to Todd's after +me, the night he come sneakin' in there himself," cried Dick. "I've +been layin' for him ever since, an' I'll give it to him good, first +chance I get." + +"He goes to night school now," remarked one. + +"Oh, yes, he's puttin' on airs all 'round," returned Dick. "I'll night +school him!" he added, vengefully. + +It was not long before Dick found an opportunity to execute his +threats of vengeance. He was loafing on a street corner, with Carrots +and two other boys, one night, when Theodore passed them on his way +home from school. He nodded to them as he went by, but did not +stop. Dick's eyes followed him with a threatening glance until he saw +him turn through a narrow street. Then Dick held a brief conference +with Carrots and the other two, and all four set off hastily in the +direction that Theodore had taken. + +He, meantime, went on whistling cheerily and thinking pleasant +thoughts, for he was beginning to get on at the school, and better +yet, he had in his pocket at that moment, a five-dollar bill that +meant a great deal to him. + +Ever since his return from the bishop's house, he had been working as +he never had worked before, neglecting no opportunity to earn even a +nickel, and every penny that he could possibly spare he had given to +Nan to keep for him. He had been perfectly frank with her, and she +knew that as soon as he had saved up thirty-seven dollars he meant to +carry it to the bishop for Mrs. Russell, and tell him the whole +story. First, to stop all his wrongdoing and then as far as possible, +to make up to those he had wronged--these were Theodore's firm +purposes now, but he felt that he could never bear to face the bishop +again until he could take with him the proof of his genuine +repentance. + +Many and many a time in these past weeks, had the boy planned with Nan +how he would go to the house and what he would say to the bishop, and +what he hoped the bishop would say to him, and Nan had rejoiced almost +as much as the boy himself as, week by week, the sum in her hands grew +toward the desired amount. Even Nan did not know all the hard work +and stern self-denial that had made it possible for Theodore to put by +that money out of his small earnings. + +The five in his pocket on this evening would complete the entire sum +and the very next day he meant to carry it to the bishop. The mere +thought of seeing again the face that was to him like no other face in +all the world--filled the boy's heart with a deep, sweet delight. He +was thinking of it as he hurried along through a short, dark alley, +where were only two or three stables and one empty house. + +Quick, stealthy footsteps followed him, but he paid no heed to them +until a heavy blow on the back of his head made him suddenly turn and +face four dark figures that were close at his heels. + +"Who are you? What ye hittin' me for?" he demanded, angrily. + +There was no response, but Dick struck at him again. This time, +however, Theodore was on his guard, and he caught Dick's arm and gave +it a twist that made its owner cry out. + +"Oh ho, it's you, Dick Hunt. I might a' known nobody else would sneak +up on a feller this way. Well, now, what are ye after?" + +"I'm after givin' you the worst lickin' ever you had," muttered Dick, +trying in vain to free his arm from Theo's strong grip. + +"What for?" demanded Theodore. + +"For sneakin' into Todd's and then runnin' to tell my father where I +was. That's one thing, but there's plenty more't I'm goin' to settle +with you for, to-night," shouted Dick, as he pounded with his left +hand, and kicked viciously at the other's shins. + +"I never spoke to your father that night," Theo declared, but Dick +responded, scornfully, + +"Tell that to a greenhorn! Pitch into him, boys. He won't let go o' +me." + +Seeing the others start toward him, Theo flung Dick's arm aside, and +bracing himself against a vacant house just behind him, faced them all +in dogged silence. They hesitated for a moment, but Dick cried out +again, + +"Come on, boys!" and the four flung themselves upon Theo, striking, +pounding and kicking all together. He defended himself as best he +could, but the odds were too great. It was only when the boy slipped +to the ground in a limp, motionless heap, that his assailants drew +off, and looked uneasily at one another in the darkness. + +"What'll we do now?" whispered Carrots. + +"Cut it--somebody's comin'!" cried Dick, in a low tone, and thereupon +they took to their heels, leaving Theo as he had fallen on the ground. + +The boys stopped running as soon as they reached a lighted street +where the passers-by might notice them; but they walked on rapidly and +discussed the affair in low, guarded tones. + +"You don't think he's done for, do ye, Dick?" questioned Carrots, +uneasily. + +Dick tried to laugh carelessly, but the effort was a failure. He was +beginning to be anxious as to the result, though he was not ready to +admit it. + +"Done for? Not much!" he answered, promptly. "More like he was +shammin', an' wasn't hurt half so much as he'd ought ter be." + +"But if 'tain't so-if he's hurt bad, he may have us up for 'sault an' +batt'ry," remarked another. + +"Dick's the only one he could go for, 'cause 'twas so dark, he +couldn't spot the rest of us," put in Carrots, hastily. + +"Ye needn't try to sneak out o' it that way," cried Dick, sharply. "If +I get took up, you'll be, too." + +"D'ye mean't you'd give us away after gettin' us into it, jest ter +help you out?" demanded the other, in a threatening tone. + +"If he does, we'll make it hot fer _him_" put in another, as Dick +answered, doubtfully, + +"Wal if he should make a fuss 'bout it, I can't take all the blame, +can I? I didn't do all the whackin'." + +"Well, I say, boys, he's a nice one, Dick Hunt is! After gettin' us to +help him lick a feller 'cause he darsent do it alone, he talks of +gettin' us took up for it," exclaimed the last speaker; "but see here, +you," he added to Dick, "Bryan knew you an' he didn't know any the +rest of us, an' I tell ye what--if you get inter trouble 'bout this +job, you lug us into it 'f ye dare! I'll swear 't Carrots an' Jo here +were down t' my place with me, 'n' they'll swear to it too; hey, +boys?" + +"We will so!" + +"We'll do that ev'ry time!" they answered in one voice; and then with +a few cutting words the three turned off together, leaving Dick to +pursue his way alone. + +And miserable enough Dick was as he walked on alone. He was not in the +least sorry for what had been done to Theodore, but he was afraid of +the consequences. He turned sick with dread as he remembered how the +boy's body had slipped in a limp heap to the ground and lain there +motionless. + +Suppose they had killed him? It would be murder. Somebody would have +to answer for it and that somebody would be he--Dick Hunt. The cold +perspiration started on his forehead and his heart throbbed heavily at +the thought, and he felt a wild desire to run on and on till he had +left that dark heap in the dark alley, miles and miles behind him. + +Then came a flash of hope. Perhaps after all Tode was not so badly +hurt. Perhaps he had been shamming just to scare them. At this +thought, Dick's quick pace slackened and he had half a mind to go back +and see if the body still lay there, but he could not bring himself to +do that. He shivered and hurried on aimlessly, through the brightly +lighted streets. He was afraid to go home, lest he be met there by the +news that he dreaded. He was afraid to stay in the streets, for every +moment he expected to feel the heavy hand of a policeman on his +shoulder. He said to himself that Carrots and the others might inform +against him just to save themselves. + +So, as wretched as a boy well could be, he wandered about for an hour +or two, stopping sometimes in dark corners and then hastening on +again, stealing suspicious glances over his shoulders, and listening +for pursuing footsteps. At last, he turned homeward, longing, yet +dreading, to see his mother. + +It was nearly midnight when he crept softly up the stairs, but his +mother had been unable to sleep, and as his hand touched the door in +the darkness, she threw it open with a sigh of relief that her weary +waiting was over for that night. She did not find fault with him. It +seemed to her utterly useless now to complain or entreat. + +Dick longed to ask if she knew anything about Tode, but his tongue +refused to utter the words and he tumbled into bed in gloomy silence. + +There had been no shamming when Theo fell under the brutal blows of +the four boys who had set upon him. They were all strong, well-grown +lads, and striking blindly and viciously in the dark, had perhaps hit +harder than they realised. At any rate Theo had felt his strength +failing even before a last blow on his head made him unconscious of +what followed. + +The "somebody," whom the boys had heard, came slouching along through +the dark alley and stumbled over the prostrate body. + +"Hello! What's this?" he exclaimed, his nimble fingers running rapidly +over the boy's face and figure. "Somebody's been up to something +here. Let's see if--no! Well, that's queer!" + +These disconnected remarks were the accompaniment to a rapid and +skillful search through the boy's pockets, and the last emphatic +expression was drawn forth by the discovery that there had been no +robbery; whereupon the newcomer promptly proceeded to complete the job +by emptying the said pockets in a manner that proved him no novice at +such business. Then he stole noiselessly away, leaving the boy again +alone in the darkness, and now there was no good bishop at hand to +take him in. + +Meantime, at home, Nan was wondering why Theo did not come in as usual +to tell her what he had been doing at the night school, and to get +Tag, who always staid with her when Theo was at the school. Tag was +troubled and uneasy too. When it was time for the boy to come Tag sat +watching the door, his ears alert for a footstep outside. Now and then +he whined, and finally he showed so plainly his desire to go out that +Nan opened the door, saying, + +"Go find him, Tag." + +She stood in her doorway listening, and heard the dog scamper up to +Theo's door. There he listened and nosed about for a moment, then down +he came again, and with a short, anxious bark, dashed down the stairs +to the street. Nan waited a long time but the dog did not return, and +at last she put out her light and went to bed with a troubled heart. + +But Tag could not sleep. He seemed to know that there was something +wrong and something for him to attend to. He raced first to his +master's stand, then to the mission school and to the night school, +and finding all these places now dark and silent, he pattered through +the streets, his nose close to the ground, his anxious, loving eyes +watching everything that moved. So at last he came to that dark heap +in the dark alley, and first he was wild with joy, but when his +frantic delight failed to awaken his master and make him come away +home, Tag was sure that something was very wrong indeed and he began +to run backward and forward between the motionless body and the +corner, until he attracted the attention of a policeman who followed +him around into the dark alley, and in a few minutes Theodore was on +his way to the Emergency Hospital with Tag following after the +ambulance at the top of his speed. But once again Tag found himself +rudely repulsed when he tried to slip in after his master. This time +he felt that he really could not bear it, and so he stood on the +hospital steps and lifting up his voice howled his protest until +somebody came and drove him away. But he couldn't stay away, so he +crawled into a dark corner up against the wall, and curling himself +into the smallest possible space, lay there watchful and wretched +until morning, when, after eyeing wistfully those who came out and +went in past him, he trotted slowly home to Nan, and did his poor best +to tell her what had happened and where Theo was. + +Nan had passed an anxious night, for she was sure that there was +something wrong, and since Theo's return from the bishop's, he had +been so changed, that she had grown very fond of him. Being a year or +two his senior, she felt a kind of elder sisterly responsibility in +regard to him, knowing as she did, that he was even more alone in the +world than she, for she had Little Brother, and Theo had nobody at +all. + +So she was at Mrs. Hunt's door, talking the matter over with her, when +Tag, with drooping head and tail, came slowly up the stairs. He wagged +his tail faintly at sight of Nan, and rubbed his head affectionately +against her, and then stood looking up at her, as if waiting to be +questioned. + +"He's been gone all night," Nan was saying to Mrs. Hunt, and referring +to the dog, "but I don't believe he found Theo. He doesn't act as if +he had. Oh, Mrs. Hunt, where _do_ you suppose he is?" + +Mrs. Hunt shook her head. "The dear knows," she said, "but something +must 'a' happened to him, sure. He's been steady as clockwork since +ever he took that room upstairs, I'll say that for him." She sighed as +she spoke, thinking of her Dick. + +"But what can I do, Mrs. Hunt?" cried Nan, her eyes full of tears. "It +seems dreadful to keep right on, just as if he were here, as +usual. Isn't there any way to find out where he is?" + +"Look here, Nan," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt. + +"Do you know where his teacher--that Mr. Scott--lives?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, why don't you send word to him? He seems to think a lot of Tode +an' Dick. I guess he does of all his scholars. He would know what to +do, an' where to look for the boy--don't you think so?" + +Nan's face had brightened as her friend spoke. + +"I'm sure that's a good idea," she replied. "He's always been so nice +and kind to Theo. I most know he'll help find him." + +"That's right now, child, stop fretting, for I'll warrant he'll set +things straight in no time. I'll let Dick or Jimmy go around to +Mr. Scott's as soon as they've had their breakfast." + +Relieved by this promise, and trying hard to be hopeful and not to +worry, Nan ran back to her room, while Mrs. Hunt called the boys. + +Dick pretended to be very sound asleep, and it required more than one +call and shake to arouse him, but in reality, he too had passed a most +miserable night, and he had listened, with heart beating fast and +hard, to his mother's colloquy with Nan; and as he listened, ever +before his mind's eye was that dark, motionless heap on the ground. In +imagination, he saw Theo's dead body on a slab in the morgue, and +himself in a prison cell, condemned for murder. Dick's worst enemy +could not have wished him to be any more wretched than he was in that +hour, as he cowered in his bed, and strained his ears to catch every +word that was uttered. But when his mother shook him, he rubbed his +eyes, and pretended to be still half asleep, and flatly refused to go +to Mr. Scott's. + +"Let Jim go, 'f anybody's got to," he growled, as he began to pull on +his clothes. "Here you, Jim, turn out lively now!" he added, yanking +the bedclothes off his brother to emphasise his words. + +"He's always a-puttin' off on me--Dick is," snarled Jim, as he joined +his mother in the other room a few minutes later, but when he learned +why he was to go to Mr. Scott's he made no further objections, but +swallowed his breakfast hastily, and went off on the run. Jim did not +share his brother's enmity toward the missing boy. Jim liked Theo. He +liked Nan too, and was always ready to do an errand for her, if she +wanted him. + +Mr. Scott was just sitting down to breakfast when Jim appeared, and he +left his coffee to cool while he listened with keen interest to what +the boy had to tell him. His face was very grave as he said, + +"Tell Miss Nan that I will be around there within an hour. See here, +though, Jim,--have you had your breakfast?" + +"Ye--yes, sir," Jim answered, with a quick glance at the hot cakes and +chops that had such an appetising odour. Jim didn't have chops and hot +cakes for breakfast. + +"Aunt Mary, can you put another plate here for Jim?" Mr. Scott asked, +and his aunt, with a smile, set another chair at the table, and piled +a plate with eatables, of which the boy disposed as easily and +speedily as if that had been his first meal that day. + +Mr. Scott likewise made a hasty breakfast, and then he sent Jim back +to Nan, while he himself went to his place of business to arrange for +his absence that morning. + +Within the hour, as he had said, he knocked at Nan's door. She +welcomed him with a feeling of glad relief, assured that at least he +would be able to find out where Theo was. He waited only to get what +little information she could give him, and then set forth, but before +he had reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs, Nan ran after +him. + +"Mr. Scott," she called. "Wouldn't it be a good plan to take +Tag--Theo's dog--with you?" + +Mr. Scott thought it would, but now an unexpected obstacle was +encountered. Tag refused to go with him. He crept under Nan's dress, +and crouched there, looking quietly out at the gentleman, but making +no movement toward him, though he called and whistled as persuasively +as he could. + +"Oh, Tag, do go," pleaded Nan, almost ready to cry at the dog's +unexpected obstinacy. + +Tag twisted his head and looked up at her, and it almost seemed as if +he were moved by her pleading tone, for, after a moment's hesitation, +he crept slowly out from his refuge, and followed Mr. Scott down the +stairs. Once outside the house he stopped and gazed with keen, +questioning eyes at the gentleman, standing, meanwhile, ready to dart +off, should any attempt be made to capture him, but Mr. Scott stopped +too, and said quietly, + +"Go find him, Tag. Find Theo." + +That was enough for the intelligent little creature. With a quick, +sharp yelp of satisfaction, Tag set off at such a pace that Mr. Scott +had hard work to keep him in sight. In fact, as soon as they turned +into a thronged business street, he lost sight of his four-footed +guide entirely, but the direction Tag had taken was a sufficient clue. +The young man was so certain that the Emergency Hospital was the place +to which the dog was leading him, that he boarded a car and went +directly there, and sure enough on the steps sat Tag, his short ears +erect, and his eager eyes watching impatiently for a chance to slip +inside the doors. + +He seemed to know that his chance had come when he saw Mr. Scott +running up the steps, for he frisked about and showed his delight in +every conceivable fashion. Dogs were not allowed in the hospital, but +when Mr. Scott picked Tag up in his arms and promised to keep him +there, the attendant finally consented that he should do so. And so +they went first to the waiting-room and then up the stairs and through +the long corridors. + + + +X. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT + + +Theodore was still unconscious when he was lifted into the ambulance +the night before, but on the way to the hospital he opened his eyes, +wondering much to find himself flat on his back and being driven +rapidly through the streets. In a few minutes he remembered what had +happened, and guessed that he must have been stunned by a blow or a +fall. As he reached this conclusion, the vehicle stopped, and he was +lifted out and carried into the hospital in spite of his protests. He +had a dread of entering a hospital as a patient, and he wanted to go +home. + +But the doctors would not allow him to go home. They told him that if +he would be quiet and do as they said, he would probably be able to go +home the next morning, and with this promise he was obliged to be +content, and allow himself to be undressed and put to bed. He was +badly bruised and his right shoulder was very lame, but there was no +serious injury, and it seemed to the boy very trying to be compelled +to spend the night where he was. He did not sleep much, partly because +of his strange surroundings, and partly because of his aching head and +shoulder, and as he lay there in the dimly-lighted ward, his thoughts +were busy. + +A hot anger burned in his heart as he recalled the cowardly attack in +the dark alley. He saw that it had been deliberately planned by Dick +Hunt, and that the four boys must have followed him from the corner +where he saw them. + +"I'll pay that Dick Hunt for this," he muttered under his breath, "an' +Carrots, too. I know the chap that hit so hard was Carrots. I'll make +'em suffer for it!" + +He lay there, his eyes flashing and his cheeks burning, as he thought +over various schemes of vengeance. Then suddenly he thought of Mr. +Scott, and that brought something else to his remembrance. He seemed +to see his teacher holding out his little Bible and making +him--Theodore--read aloud those two verses: + +"Dearly beloved avenge not yourselves." + +And "Recompense to no man evil for evil." + +As he repeated these words to himself, the fire died slowly out of the +boy's eyes and the angry colour faded from his cheeks. He turned +restlessly in his bed and tried to banish these thoughts and bring +back his schemes of vengeance, but he could not do it. He knew what +was the right--what he ought to do--but he was not willing to do it. +Hour after hour he argued the matter with himself, finding all sorts +of reasons why, in this case, he might take vengeance into his own +hands and "learn that Dick Hunt a lesson," yet feeling and knowing in +the depths of his heart that whatever the old Tode Bryan might have +done, Theodore Bryan, who was trying to be the bishop's shadow, +certainly had no right to do evil to somebody else simply because that +somebody had done evil to him. + +It was nearly morning before the long battle with himself was over, +but it ended at last, and it was Theodore, and not Tode who was +victorious, and it was the memory of the bishop's face, and of the +bishop's prayer that day in the poorhouse, that finally settled the +matter. + +"He'd fight for somebody else, the bishop would, but he wouldn't ever +fight for himself, an' I mustn't neither," the boy murmured, softly, +and then with a long breath he turned his face to the wall and fell +asleep, and he had but just awakened from that sleep when Mr. Scott, +with Tag under his arm, came through the long corridor to the ward +where Theodore was lying in the very last cot, next the wall. + +Mr. Scott had promised not to let the dog out of his arms, but if he +had been better acquainted with Tag he would never have made such a +rash promise. As the gentleman followed the nurse into the ward, the +dog's eyes flashed a swift glance over the long line of cots, and the +next instant something dark went flying down the room and up on to +that last cot in the row, and there was Tag licking his master's face +and hands, and wagging his tail, and barking like mad. + +"Dear me!" exclaimed the nurse, running toward the corner. "This will +never do. He'll drive the patients into fits! Why didn't you keep hold +of him?" + +She threw the question back in a reproachful tone to Mr. Scott. + +He laughed a little as he answered, "If you will try to pick him up +now and hold him, you will understand why." + +Even as he spoke, the nurse was making an attempt to capture and +silence the noisy little fellow. She might as well have tried to pick +up a ball of quicksilver. Tag slipped through her fingers like an eel, +scurrying from one end of the cot to the other, and barking excitedly +all the time. + +"Can't you stop him, Theodore?" exclaimed Mr. Scott, as he reached the +corner where the boy lay. + +"Here, Tag, lie down and be still," cried the boy, and with one last +defiant yap at the nurse, Tag nosed aside the bedclothes and snuggled +down beside his master with a sigh of glad content. + +"Well, if ever I let a dog into _my_ ward again!" exclaimed the +nurse, in a tone of stern determination. + +"I'm sorry he made such a noise, ma'am. It was only because he was so +glad to find me," said Theodore, quickly. + +The nurse turned away in offended silence, and Mr. Scott sat down by +the bed and began to talk with the boy. + +He listened with a grave face to Theo's story. When it was ended, he +asked, "Did you recognise either of the boys?" + +"Yes, sir; one, certainly, and I think I know one of the others." + +"Well?" said the teacher, inquiringly. + +Theodore hesitated a moment, then answered in a low tone, "You 'member +them verses you showed me that first Sunday, Mr. Scott?" + +The gentleman smiled down into the sober, boyish face. "I remember," +he replied, "but, Theo, this is a grave matter. To beat a boy until he +is unconscious, and then leave him to live or die, is a crime. Such +boys ought not to be shielded." + +"Mr. Scott, I had an awful time over that last night," answered the +boy, earnestly. "I wanted to pay them fellers for this job--you better +b'lieve I did, but," he shook his head slowly, "I can't do it. You +see, sir, I ain't Tode no more--I'm Theodore, now." + +There was a look on the homely, boyish face that forbade further +discussion of the matter, and, after a moment's silence, Mr. Scott +said in a different tone, "Well, my boy, when are you going home? Nan +and the baby want to see you." + +Theo glanced impatiently about the long room. + +"She said I'd got to stay in bed till the doctor had seen me," he +replied, "'n the doctor'll be here 'bout nine o'clock." + +"She" was the nurse. + +"It's nearly nine now. I'll wait until the doctor comes, then," +Mr. Scott said. + +The doctor pronounced the boy quite fit to leave the hospital, and his +clothes being brought to him, the curtains were drawn around his cot +and he dressed himself hastily. But as he pushed aside the curtains, +Mr. Scott saw a troubled look on his face, and asked: + +"What's the matter, Theodore?" + +Without answering the boy crossed the room to the nurse. + +"Where's the money that was in my pocket?" he asked, anxiously. + +The nurse looked at him sharply. "If there was any money in your +pockets when you were brought here it would be in them now," she +answered, shortly. "You can go to the office and ask any questions you +like." + +Theodore turned toward his teacher a very sorrowful face. + +"I've been robbed, too," he said. + +"Oh, I'm sorry, Theodore. How much have you lost?" + +"Five dollars. She says to ask at the office, but 'twon't do no good, +I s'pose." + +"No, nothing would have been taken from your pockets here, but we will +stop at the office and see if we can learn anything," Mr. Scott said. + +Tag had kept close to his master's heels, and now at his teacher's +suggestion Theodore picked up the dog, who went forth quietly enough +in that fashion. + +Inquiries at the office convinced the boy that he had been robbed +before he was brought there, and naturally enough he came to the +conclusion that his money had gone into the pockets of Dick Hunt and +his companions. + +At the door of the tenement house Mr. Scott left Theo, who hurried +eagerly up the stairs. On the landing he met Jimmy Hunt, who called +out: + +"Hi--o, Tode, where ye been all night? Say, what was the matter? Did +Mr. Scott find ye?" + +"Yes," was Theo's only response, as he pushed open Nan's door, to be +greeted with such a warm welcome that he hardly knew what to say and +had to hide his embarrassment by poking the baby's ribs to make him +laugh. Jimmy Hunt had followed him into the room and listened with +open mouth as well as ears to the brief story that the boy told in +reply to Nan's questions. + +"Oh, 'twasn't much. I got knocked down an' carried to the hospital, +an' they wouldn't let me come away till morning--that's all." + +"An' wasn't ye hurt?" cried Jimmy, in a disappointed tone. It seemed +to him altogether too tame an affair if nobody was hurt. + +"My shoulder's sprained, an' my head was hurt a little," Theo +answered. "Say, Jim, where's Dick?" + +"I d'know. Out somewheres," replied Dick's brother, indifferently. + +"Why ain't you in school, Jimmy?" was Theo's next question. + +"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Jimmy, in a tone of deep +disgust. "Ain't I been a-racin' all over town for you this mornin', +a-gettin' Mr. Scott to hunt ye up, an' goin' ter see 'f your stand's +open, an' carryin' things 'round fer Nan, too? How could I do all +that an' be in school, I'd like to know?" + +"'Deed, you couldn't, Jimmy," replied Nan, soothingly. "I don't know +what I should have done this morning without him, Theo. He was my +right hand man." + +Jimmy coloured with satisfaction at this high praise, and his delight +was complete when Theodore added, + +"That so? Well now, Jimmy boy, I ain't goin' to forget this." + +"Huh! Twarn't nothin'. I liked to do it," replied Jimmy, and then +overcome by a sudden and unaccountable fit of bashfulness he ran +hastily out of the room. + +Then Theodore told Nan the details of his adventure, but not even to +her would he tell the name of his enemy, and Nan did not guess, for +she would never have imagined that Mrs. Hunt's Dick could have served +Theo so. + +Dick had gone out as usual after breakfast and did not come home even +to get his supper, but of late his habits had been so irregular that +nothing was said at home about his absence. + +After supper Jimmy was sent out on an errand and Dick met him and +questioned him in regard to Theo's return, and what he had to say. +Jimmy waxed indignant over the story which he filled in from his own +imagination with many vivid details. + +"Some fellers pitched into him an' knocked him down an' beat him an' +left him for dead an' they took him t' the hospital an' kep' him there +all night. Guess them fellers'll suffer for it! They robbed him, +too. Took five dollars out o' his pockets." + +"They didn't neither!" exclaimed Dick, hastily, thrown off his guard +by this unexpected statement. + +"Come now, Dick Hunt, mebbe you know more'n I do about it," retorted +Jimmy, with withering sarcasm, little suspecting how much more his +brother _did_ know. "Mebbe you heard what Nan said to ma 'bout +it." + +"No, no! 'Course I d'know nothin' 'bout it. How would I know?" +replied Dick, quickly and uneasily. "Say, Jimmy, is he--is Tode goin' +to have them fellers took up?" + +"'Spect he is--I would," answered Jimmy; then remembering his errand, +he ran off, leaving Dick looking after him with a haggard, miserable +face. + +"Robbed," Dick said to himself, as he walked moodily and aimlessly +on. "We didn't do that anyhow. Somebody must 'a' gone through his +pockets after we cleared out. Nice box I'm in now!" + +Dick did not go home at all that night. He was afraid that he might be +arrested if he did. + +"He knows 'twas me did it, an' he's keepin' dark 'bout it till they +can nab me," he thought. + +He hunted up the three boys who had been so ready to help him the +night before, but he found them now firmly banded together against +him. Moreover, they had spread such reports of him among their +companions, that Dick found himself shunned by them all. He dared not +go home, so he wandered about the streets, eating in out-of-the-way +places, and sleeping where he could. One day Carrots told him that +Tode Bryan was huntin' everywhere for him. Then Dick, in desperation, +made up his mind to go to sea--he could stand the strain no longer. He +dared not go home, even to bid his mother goodbye. Dick was selfish +and cruel, but he had even yet a little lingering tenderness for his +mother. It was not enough to make him behave himself and do what he +knew would please her, but it did make him wish that he could see her +just for a moment before going away. It was enough to make him creep +cautiously to the house after dark, and stand in the shadow, looking +up at her window, while he pictured to himself the neat, pleasant +room, where at that hour, she would be preparing supper. While he +stood there, Theo came out of the house, with Tag, as usual, at his +heels. Tag ran over to the dark corner and investigated Dick, but +cautiously, for there was no friendship between him and this member of +the Hunt family. Dick stood silent and motionless afraid that the dog +might bark and draw Theo over there, but he stood ready for flight +until Theo whistled and Tag ran back to him, and presently followed +him off in another direction. Then, with a breath of relief, Dick +stole off into the darkness, and the next day he left the city on a +vessel bound for South America, rejoicing that at last he was beyond +reach of Tode Bryan. + +Dick was not mistaken in thinking that Theo had been searching for +him, but he was greatly mistaken as to the boy's purpose in +it. Theodore was entirely ready now to obey that command that +Mr. Scott had shown him and to do his best to "overcome evil with +good." He took it for granted that Dick and the others had robbed as +well as beaten him, but all the same, he felt that he was bound to +forget all that and find some way to show them a kindness. But though +Theo was always on the lookout for him, Dick managed to keep out of +his sight while he remained in the city. After Dick had sailed, some +boy told Jimmy where his brother had gone, and so at last the news +reached Theodore. + +Since his return from the bishop's, Theo had had few idle moments, but +after losing the five dollars he worked early and late to make up the +loss. He grew more silent and thoughtful, and when alone his thoughts +dwelt almost continually on that happy day when he should look once +more into the bishop's kind face. + +"I'll tell him all about it," he would say to himself, "how I saw that +Mrs. Russell drop the pocketbook, an' how I slipped under the wagon +an' snatched it up out o' the mud, an' used the money. I'll tell it +all, an' ev'rything else bad that I can 'member, so he'll know jest +what a bad lot I've been, an' then I'll tell him how sorry I am, an' +how I'm a-huntin' ev'rywhere for that Jack Finney, an' how I'll keep +a-huntin' till I find him." + +All this and much more Theodore planned to tell the bishop, and, as he +thought about it, it seemed as if he could not wait another hour, so +intense was his longing to look once more into that face that was like +no other earthly face to him, to listen again to the voice that +thrilled his heart, and hear it say, "My boy, I forgive you." Many a +time he dreamt of this and started up from sleep with those words +ringing in his ears, "My boy, I forgive you," and then finding himself +alone in his dark, dismal little room, he would bury his wet cheeks in +the pillow and try to stifle the longing in his lonely, boyish heart. + +Even Nan, who knew him better than did any one else, never guessed how +his heart hungered to hear those words from the lips of the bishop. + +But little by little--in nickels and dimes and quarters--Theodore laid +by another five dollars. He knew to a penny how much there was, but +when he brought the last dime, he and Nan counted it all to make +sure. There was no mistake. It amounted to thirty-seven dollars and +twenty-five cents, and the boy drew a long, glad breath as he looked +up at Nan with shining eyes and flushed cheeks, saying, + +"To-morrow, Nan, I can see--_him!_" + +"Don't look so--so awfully glad, Theo. I'm afraid something will +happen," said Nan, with a troubled expression in her eyes as she +looked at him. + +"Don't you worry. I ain't a-goin' to be robbed again--you better +believe I ain't!" cried the boy. Then he glanced at his worn suit and +tried to pull down his jacket sleeves, as he added, wistfully, "D'you +think I look well enough to go there, Nan? I wanted to buy a collar +an' necktie, but, I just _couldn't_ wait any longer." + +Nan's private opinion was, that if the bishop could only see Theo's +face at that moment, the garments he wore would be a matter of small +importance. She answered, quickly, + +"You look plenty well enough, Theo. Don't worry about that." + +She gathered up the money and put it back into the box in which it had +been kept, and the boy went across the room to the bed where the baby +lay asleep. + +"Seems to me he looks kind o' peaked--don't he, Nan?" he remarked, +uneasily. + +Nan cast an anxious glance at the little, thin face, and shook her +head. "He doesn't get strong as I hoped he would," she answered, +sadly. + +"Oh well, he will, when it comes warmer, so he can get out doors +oftener," the boy said, as he went away to his room. + +He hurried through his work the next day, closing his stand at the +earliest possible moment, and rushing home to get ready for his +visit. He always, now, kept his face and hands scrupulously clean. His +hair might have been in better condition if he had had money to buy a +comb or a brush, but those were among the luxuries that he felt he +must deny himself until he had made all the restitution in his power. + +To-day, however, when he went to Nan's room for his money, she offered +him the use of her comb, and helped him reduce his rough, thick hair +to some kind of order. Even then he looked at himself somewhat +doubtfully. His suit was so shabby in spite of Nan's careful mending, +and his shoes were worse than his suit, but they were polished to the +last degree. He had exchanged a sandwich and two doughnuts for that +"shine." + +"You look well enough, Theo," Nan said, "plenty well enough. Now go +on, and oh, I do _hope_ it will be all right." + +"I know 'twill," cried the boy, joyously, as he tucked the money +carefully into an inside pocket. "Oh, Nan!" + +He looked at her with such a happy face that her own beamed a bright +response. Then he ran off and Nan stood in the doorway watching him as +he went down the stairs, closely followed by his inseparable +companion, Tag. + +"The dear boy! He is fairly pale," said Nan, to herself, as she turned +back into her room. "It is strange how he loves that bishop--and what +a different boy he is, too, since he came home. I don't see how the +bishop can help loving him. Oh, I do hope nothing will happen to +spoil his visit. He has looked forward to it so long." + +The boy felt as if he were walking on air as he went rapidly through +the crowded streets, seeing nothing about him, so completely were his +thoughts occupied with the happiness before him. As he got farther up +town the crowd lessened, and when he turned into the street on which +the bishop lived, the passers-by were few. + +At last he could see the house. In a few minutes he would reach +it. Then his joyous anticipations suddenly vanished and he began to be +troubled. + +What if Brown wouldn't let him in, he thought, or--what if the bishop +should refuse to see him or to listen to his story? + +As these thoughts came to him his eager pace slackened and for a +moment he was tempted to turn back. Only for a moment, however. He +_knew_ that the bishop would not refuse to see him, and as for +Brown, if Brown refused to admit him, he would go to the servants' +door and ask for Mrs. Martin. + +So thinking, he pushed open the iron gate and went slowly up the walk. + +"Stay here, Tag. Lie down, sir!" he ordered, and the dog obediently +dropped down on the steps, keeping his bright eyes fastened on his +master, as the boy rang the bell. Theo could almost hear his heart +beat as he waited. Suddenly the door swung open and there was Brown +gazing severely at him. + +"Well--what do _you_ want?" questioned the man, brusquely. + +"I want--Don't you know me, Brown? I want to see--Mrs. Martin." + +The boy's voice was thick and husky, and somehow he could not utter +the bishop's name to Brown standing there with that cold frown on his +face. + +"Oh--you want to see Mrs. Martin, do you? Well, I think you've got +cheek to come here at all after leaving the way you did," Brown +growled. He held the door so that the boy could not enter, and seemed +more than half inclined to shut it in his face. + +"Oh, please, Brown, _do_ let me in," pleaded the boy, with such a +heart-broken tone in his voice, that Brown relented--he wasn't half so +gruff as he pretended to be--and answered, grudgingly, + +"Well, come in, if you must, an' I'll find out if Mrs. Martin will see +you." + +With a sudden gleam of joy in his eyes, Theodore slipped in. + +"Come along!" Brown called over his shoulder, and the boy followed to +the housekeeper's sitting-room. The door of the room stood open, and +Mrs. Martin sat by the window with a newspaper in her hand. She +glanced up over her spectacles as Brown's tall figure appeared at the +door. + +"Mrs. Martin, this boy says he wants to see you," he announced, and +then sauntered indifferently away to his own quarters. + +Mrs. Martin took off her glasses as she called, "Come in, boy, and +tell me what you want." + +Theo walked slowly toward her hoping that she would recognise him, but +she did not. Indeed it was a wonder that Brown had recognised him, so +different was his appearance in his rough worn clothes, from that of +the handsomely dressed lad, whose sudden departure had so grieved the +kindhearted housekeeper. + +"Don't you know me, Mrs. Martin?" the boy faltered, sorrowfully, as he +paused beside her chair. + +"No, I'm sure I--why! You don't mean to say that you are our deaf and +dumb boy!" exclaimed the good woman, as she peered earnestly into the +grey eyes looking down so wistfully into hers. + +"Yes, I'm the bad boy you were so good to, but I've been keepin' +straight ever since I was here, Mrs. Martin," he answered, +earnestly. "I have, truly." + +"Bless your dear heart, child," cried the good woman, springing up +hastily and seizing the boy's hands. "I'm sure you have. I guess +_I_ know a bad face when I see one, and it don't look like +yours. Sit down, dear, and tell me all about it." + +In the fewest possible words Theo told his story, making no attempt to +excuse anything. The housekeeper listened with keen interest, asking +a question now and then, and reading in his face the confirmation of +all he said. He did not say very much about the bishop, but the few +words that he did say and the look in his eyes as he said them, showed +her what a hold upon the boy's heart her master had so unconsciously +gained, and her own interest in the friendless lad grew deeper. + +When his story was told, she wiped her eyes as she said, slowly, "And +to think that you've been working all these weeks to save up that +money! Well, well, how glad the dear bishop will be! He's said all the +time that you were a good boy." + +"Oh, has he?" cried Theo, his face all alight with sudden joy. "I was +afraid he'd think I was all bad when he found out how I'd cheated +him." + +"No, no!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin. "He was grieved over your going off +so, and he has tried his best to find you, but you see he didn't know +where to look for you." + +"Did he try to find me, Mrs. Martin? Oh, I'm so glad! And can I see +him now, please?" + +The boy's voice trembled with eagerness as he spoke. + +The housekeeper's kind face was full of pity and sympathy as she +exclaimed, "Why, my boy, didn't you know? The bishop is in California. +He went a week ago to stay three months." + +All the glad brightness faded from the boy's face as he heard this. He +did not speak, but he turned aside, and brushed his sleeve hastily +across his eyes. Mrs. Martin laid her hand gently on his shoulder. + +"I'm so sorry," she said, "and he will be too, when he knows of your +coming. I will write him all about it." + +Still the boy stood silent. It seemed to him that he could not bear +it. It had not once occurred to him that the bishop might be away, and +now there was no possibility of seeing him for three long months. It +seemed an eternity to the boy. And to think that he was there--at +home--a week ago! + +"If they hadn't stole that five dollars from me, I might 'a' seen him +last week," the boy said to himself, bitter thoughts of Dick Hunt +rising in his heart. At last he turned again to the housekeeper and at +the change in his face her eyes filled with quick tears. + +He took from his pocket the little roll of money and held it out, +saying in a low unsteady voice, "You send it to him--an' tell +him--won't you?" + +"I'll write him all about it," the housekeeper repeated, "and don't +you be discouraged, dear. He'll want to see you just as soon as he +gets home, I know he will. Tell me where you live, so I can send you +word when he comes." + +In a dull, listless voice the boy gave the street and number, and she +wrote the address on a slip of paper. + +"Remember, Theodore, I shall write the bishop all you have told me, +and how you are trying to find the Finney boy and to help others just +as he does," said the good woman, knowing instinctively that this +would comfort the boy in his bitter disappointment. + +He brightened a little at her words but he only said, briefly, + +"Yes--tell him that," and then he went sorrowfully away. + +Mrs. Martin stood at the window and looked after him as he went slowly +down the street, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground, +while Tag, well aware that something was wrong, trotted beside him +with drooping ears and tail. + +"Tell me that that's a bad boy!" the good woman said to herself. "I +know better! I don't care what that Mr. Gibson said. I never took much +stock in Mr. Gibson myself, anyhow. He always had something to say +against anybody that the bishop took an interest in. There--I wish I'd +told Theodore that he was here only as a substitute, and had to leave +when the regular secretary was well enough to come back. I declare my +heart aches when I think of that poor little fellow's face when I told +him that the bishop was gone. Ah well, this is a world of +disappointment!" and with a sigh she turned away from the window. + +Nan sat in a rocking-chair with Little Brother in her arms, when +Theodore opened her door. + +"Oh Theo--what is it? What is the matter?" she cried, as she saw his +face. + +He dropped wearily into a seat and told her in a few words the result +of his visit. + +"Oh, I am so sorry!" she exclaimed. "And it seems so hard to think +that you would have seen the bishop if you hadn't lost that five +dollars!" + +The boy sighed, but made no reply. He could not talk about it then, +and presently he got up and went out. + + + +XI. THEO'S NEW BUSINESS + + +Theodore went slowly down the stairs, but stopped on the outside steps +and stood there with his hands in his pockets looking listlessly up +and down the street. There was another big tenement house opposite, +and on its steps sat a girl of ten or eleven with a baby in her +lap. The baby kept up a low wailing cry, but the girl paid no +attention to it. She sat with her head leaning against the house, and +seemed to notice nothing about her. + +Theodore glanced at her indifferently. His thoughts were still +dwelling on his great disappointment--the sorrowful ending of the +hopes and longings of so many weeks. It seemed to him that he had now +nothing to which to look forward; nothing that was worth working for. +Then suddenly there flashed into his mind the words he had heard the +bishop speak to a man who came to him one day in great sorrow. + +"My life is spoiled," the man had said. "All my hopes and plans are +destroyed. What shall I do?" + +And the bishop had answered, "My son, you must forget yourself, and +your broken hopes and plans, and think of others. Do something for +somebody else--and keep on doing." + +"That's what he would say to me, I s'pose," thought the boy. "I wonder +what I can do. There's Tommy O'Brien, I 'spect he'd be glad 'nough to +see most anybody." + +He turned and went slowly and reluctantly back up the stairs. He +didn't want to see Tommy O'Brien. He didn't want to see anybody just +then, but still he went on to Tommy's door. As he approached it, he +heard loud, angry voices mingled with the crying of a baby. He +knocked, but the noise within continued, and after a moment's pause he +pushed open the door and went in. + +The three women who lived in the room were all standing with red, +angry faces, each trying to outscold the others. Three or four little +children, with frightened eyes, were huddled together in one corner, +while a baby cried unheeded on the floor, its mother being too much +occupied with the quarrel to pay any attention to her child. The +women glanced indifferently at Theodore as he entered, and kept on +with their loud talk. Theo crossed over to Tommy's cot. The sick boy +had pulled his pillow over his head and was pressing it close to his +ears to shut out the racket. + +"Le'me 'lone!" he exclaimed, as Theodore tried to lift the pillow. His +face was drawn with pain and there were dark hollows beneath his heavy +eyes. Such a weary, suffering face it was that a great flood of pity +surged over Theodore's heart at sight of it. Then Tommy opened his +eyes and as he saw who had pulled aside his pillow a faint smile crept +around his pale lips. + +"Oh!" he cried. "It's you. I thought 'twas some o' them a-pullin' off +my piller. Can't you make 'em stop, Tode? They've been a-fightin' off +an' on all day." He glanced at the noisy women as he spoke. + +"What's the row about?" asked Theo. + +"'Cause Mis' Carey said Mis' Green's baby was cross-eyed. Mis' Green +got so mad at that that she's been scoldin' 'bout it ever since an' +leavin' the baby to yell there by itself on the floor--poor little +beggar! Seem's if my head'll split open with all the noise," sighed +Tommy, wearily, then he brightened up as he inquired, "What d' you +come for, Tode?" + +"Just to talk to you a little," replied Theo. "S'pose you get awful +tired layin' here all the time, don't ye, Tommy?" + +The unexpected sympathy in the voice and look touched the lonely heart +of the little cripple. His eyes filled with tears, and he reached up +one skinny little hand and laid it on the rough, strong one of his +visitor as he answered, + +"Oh, you don't know--you don't know anything about it, Tode. I don't +b'lieve dyin' can be half so bad's livin' this way. She wishes I'd +die. She's said so lots o' times," he nodded toward his aunt, who was +one of the women in the room, "an' I wish so too, 'f I've got to be +this way always." + +"Ain't ye never had no doctor, Tommy?" asked Theo, with a quick catch +in his breath as he realised dimly what it would be to have such a +life to look forward to. + +"No--she says she ain't got no money for doctors," replied the boy, +soberly. + +"I'll"--began Theodore, then wisely concluding to raise no hopes that +might not be realised, he changed his sentence to, "I'll find out if +there's a doctor that will come for nothin'. I believe there is +one. Can ye read, Tommy?" + +The sick boy shook his head. "How could I?" he answered. "Ain't nobody +ter show me nothin'." + +"Wonder 'f I couldn't," said Theo, thoughtfully. "I c'n tell ye the +letters anyhow, an' that'll be better'n nothin'." + +A bit of torn newspaper lay on the floor beside the bed. He picked it +up and pointed out A, O and S, to Tommy. By the time the little +cripple had thoroughly mastered those three letters so that he could +pick them out every time, the women had given up their quarrel. +Mrs. Green had taken up her baby and was feeding it, and the other +women, with sullen faces, had resumed their neglected duties. + +"Oh dear! Must you go?" Tommy exclaimed as Theo got off the cot on +which he had been sitting. "But you was real good to come, +anyhow. When'll ye come again an' tell me some more letters?" + +"I'll show ye one ev'ry day if I can get time. Then in three weeks +you'll know all the big ones an' some o' the little ones that are just +like the big ones. Now don't ye forget them three." + +"You bet I won't. I shall say 'em a hundred times 'fore to-morrow," +rejoined the little fellow, and his eyes followed his new friend +eagerly until the door closed behind him. + +As for Theodore himself, half the weight seemed to have been lifted +from his own heart as he went down the stairs again. + +"I'll run outside a minute 'fore I go to supper," he said to +himself. "The air was awful thick in that room. Reckon that's one +thing makes Tommy feel so bad." + +He walked briskly around two or three squares, and as he came back to +the house he noticed that the girl and the baby still sat where he had +seen them an hour before. The baby's cry had ceased, but it began +again as Theo was passing the two. He stopped and looked at them. The +girl's eyes rested on his face with a dull, indifferent glance. + +"What makes it cry? Is it sick?" the boy asked, nodding toward the +baby. + +The girl shook her head. + +"What ails it then?" + +"Starvin'." + +The girl uttered the word in a lifeless tone as if it were a matter of +no interest to her. + +"Where's yer mother?" pursued the boy. + +"Dead." + +"An' yer father?" + +"Drunk." + +"Ain't there nobody to look out for ye?" + +Again the girl shook her head. + +"Ain't ye had anything to eat to-day?" + +"No." + +"What d'ye have yesterday?" + +"Some crusts I found in the street. Do go off an' le'me 'lone. We're +most dead, an' I'm glad of it," moaned the girl, drearily. + +"You gi' me that baby an' come along. I'll get ye somethin' to eat," +cried Theo, and as the girl looked up at him half doubtfully and half +joyfully, he seized the bundle of shawl and baby and hurried with it +up to Nan's room, the girl dragging herself slowly along behind him. + +Nan cast a doubtful and half dismayed glance at the two strangers as +Theodore ushered them in, but the boy exclaimed, + +"They're half starved, Nan. We _must_ give 'em somethin' to eat," +and when she saw the baby's little pinched face she hesitated no +longer, but quickly warmed some milk and fed it to the little one +while the girl devoured the bread and milk and meat set before her +with a ravenous haste that confirmed what she had said. + +Then, refreshed by the food, she told her pitiful story, the old story +of a father who spent his earnings in the saloon, leaving his +motherless children to live or die as might be. Nan's heart ached as +she listened, and Theodore's face was very grave. When the girl had +gone away with the baby in her arms, Theo said, earnestly, + +"Nan, I've got to earn more money." + +"How can you?" Nan asked. "You work so hard now, Theo." + +"I must work harder, Nan. I can't stand it to see folks starvin' an' +not help 'em. I'll pay you for what these two had you know." + +Nan looked at him reproachfully. "Don't you think I want to help too?" +she returned. "Do you think I've forgotten that meal you gave Little +Brother an' me?" + +"That was nothin'. Anyhow you've done lots more for me than ever I did +for you," the boy answered, earnestly, "but, Nan, how _can_ rich +folks keep their money for themselves when there are people--babies, +Nan--starvin' right here in this city?" + +"I suppose the rich folks don't know about them," replied the girl, +thoughtfully, as she set the table for supper. + +"I've got to talk it over with Mr. Scott," Theo said, as he drew his +chair up to the table. + +"You talk everything over with Mr. Scott now, don't you, Theo?" + +"'Most everything. He's fine as silk, Mr. Scott is. He rings true +every time, but he ain't"-- + +He left his sentence unfinished, but Nan knew of whom he was thinking. + +The next afternoon Theodore walked slowly through the business +streets, with eyes and ears alert, for some opening of which he might +take advantage to increase his income. Past block after block he +wandered till he was tired and discouraged. Finally he sat down on +some high stone steps to rest a bit, and while he sat there a coloured +boy came out of the building. He had a tin box and some rags in his +hands, and he began in an idle fashion to clean the brass railing to +the steps. Theodore fell into conversation with him, carelessly and +indifferently at first, but after a little with a sudden, keen +interest as the boy began to grumble about his work. + +"I ain't a-goin' ter clean these yer ol' railin's many more times," he +said. "It's too much work. I c'n git a place easy where the' ain't no +brasses to clean, an' I'm a-goin' ter, too. All the office boys hates +ter clean brasses." + +"What do ye clean 'em with?" Theodore inquired. + +The boy held out the tin box. "This stuff an' soft rags. Say--you want +ter try it?" + +He grinned as he spoke, but to his surprise his offer was +accepted. "Gi' me your rags," cried Theo, and he proceeded to rub and +polish energetically, until one side of the railings glittered like +gold. + +"Yer a gay ol' cleaner!" exclaimed the black boy, as he lolled in +blissful idleness on the top step. "Now go ahead with the other rail." + +But Theodore threw down the rags. + +"Not much," he answered. "I've done half your work an' you can do the +other half." + +"Oh, come now, finish up the job," remonstrated the other. "'Tain't +fair not to, for you've made that one shine so. I'll have ter put an +extry polish on the other to match it." + +But Theodore only laughed and walked off saying to himself, + +"Rather think this'll work first-rate." + +He went straight to a store, and asked for "the stuff for shining up +brass," and bought a box of it. Then he wondered where he could get +some clean rags. + +"Per'aps Mrs. Hunt'll have some," he thought, "an' anyhow I want to +see Jim." + +So home he hastened as fast as his feet would carry him. + +Good Mrs. Hunt was still a little cool to Theodore, though she could +see for herself how steady and industrious he was now, and how much he +had improved in every way; but she had never gotten over her first +impression of him, founded not only on his appearance and manners when +she first knew him, but also on Dick's evil reports in regard to +him. Now that Dick himself had gone so far wrong, his mother went +about with a heartache all the time, and found it hard sometimes to +rejoice as she knew she ought to do in the vast change for the better +in this other boy. + +"Is Jim here?" Theodore asked when Mrs. Hunt opened the door in +response to his knock. + +"Yes--what's wanted, Tode?" Jimmy answered for himself before his +mother could reply. + +"Can you stay out o' school to-morrow?" Theo questioned. + +"No, he can't, an' you needn't be temptin' him," broke in the mother, +quickly. + +"Oh, come now, ma, wait till ye hear what he wants," remonstrated +Jimmy, in whose eyes Theo was just about right. + +"I wanted him to run my stand to-morrow," said Theodore. "I've got +somethin' else to 'tend to. There's plenty o' fellers that would like +to run it for me, but ye see I can't trust 'em an' I _can_ trust +Jim every time." + +Jimmy drew himself up proudly. "Oh, ma, do let me stay out an' do it," +he cried, eagerly. + +"It's Friday, an' we don't have much to do Fridays anyhow, in our +school." + +"We-ell, I s'pose then you might stay out just this once," Mrs. Hunt +said, slowly, being fully alive to the advantages to Jimmy of such a +friendly feeling on Theo's part. She recognized Theodore's business +ability, and would have been only too glad to see her own boy develop +something of the same kind. She was haunted with a dread that he might +become idle and vicious as Dick had done. + +"All right, then," Theodore responded, promptly. "You be ready to go +down with me at seven o'clock, Jim, an' I'll see you started all right +before I leave you. Oh, Mrs. Hunt, there's one more thing I want. Have +you any clean old rags?" + +"For what?" + +"Any kind o' soft white cotton stuff or old flannel will do," replied +the boy, purposely leaving her question unanswered. "I'll pay you for +'em, of course, if you let me have 'em." + +"Well, I guess I ain't so stingy as all that comes to," exclaimed +Mrs. Hunt, sharply. "D'ye want 'em now?" + +"I'll come for 'em after supper," answered the boy, thinking that it +was best to make sure of them, lest he be delayed for want of them in +the morning. + +When later that evening, he knocked at her door, Mrs. Hunt had the +pieces ready for him, and the next morning, Jimmy was waiting in the +hall when Theo came from Nan's room with his big basket, and the two +boys went down the street carrying the basket between them. As soon as +its contents had been arranged as attractively as possible on the +clean white marbled oilcloth with which the stand was covered, and the +coffee made and ready to serve, Theo handed Jimmy two dollars in +dimes, nickels and pennies, to make change, and set off with the box +of paste in his pocket, and the roll of rags under his arm. + +Jimmy watched him out of sight, and then with a proud sense of +responsibility awaited the appearance of his customers. + +Theodore walked rapidly on till he reached the business streets where +most of the handsome stores and offices were. Then he slackened his +pace and went on slowly, glancing keenly at each building until he +came to one that had half a dozen brass signs on the front. + +"Here's a good place to make a try," he said to himself, and going +into the first office on the ground floor he asked as politely as he +knew how, + +"Can I shine up your brass signs for you?" + +There were several young men in the outer office. One of them answered +carelessly, "Yes indeed, shine 'em up, boy, and see 't you make a good +job of it." + +"I will that, sir," responded Theodore, blithely, and set to work with +a will. + +There had been much wet weather and the signs were badly +discoloured. It took hard, steady rubbing for nearly an hour to get +them into good shining order, but Theodore worked away vigourously +until they gleamed and glittered in the morning sunlight. Then he went +again into the office. + +"I've finished 'em, sir," he said to the young man to whom he had +spoken before, "an' I think I've made a good job of it. Will you step +out an' see what you think?" + +"Not at all necessary. If you're satisfied, I am," replied the man, +bending over his desk and writing rapidly. + +Theodore waited in silence. The young man wrote on. Finally he glanced +up and remarked in a tone of surprise, + +"Oh, you here yet? Thought you'd finished your job." + +"I have done my part. I'm waitin' for you to do yours," replied the +boy. + +"Mine? What's my part, I'd like to know?" demanded the young man, +sharply. + +"To pay me for my work." replied Theo, promptly, but with a shadow +falling on his face. + +"Pay you? Well, if this isn't cheeky! I didn't agree to pay you +anything." + +"But you knew that I expected to be paid for my work," persisted the +boy, the angry colour rising in his cheeks. + +"You expected--pshaw! Young man, you've had a lesson that is well +worth the time and labour you've expended," remarked the clerk in a +tone of great dignity. "Hereafter you will know better than to take +anything for granted in business transactions. Good-morning," and he +turned his back on the boy and began to write again. + +Theodore glanced around the room to see if there was any one on his +side, but two of the other clerks were grinning at his discomfiture, +and the others pretended not to know anything about the affair. He saw +now that he had been foolish to undertake the work as he had done, but +he realised that it would not help his case to make a fuss about +it. All the same he was unwilling to submit without a protest. + +"Next time I'll take care to make my bargain with a gentleman," he +said, quietly. + +He saw a singular change in the expression of the clerk's face at +these words, and as he turned sharply about to leave the office he +almost ran into a tall, grey-haired man who had just entered. + +"Stop a bit, my boy. I don't understand that remark of yours. What +bargain are you going to make with a gentleman?" + +The tone of authority, together with the disturbed face of one clerk +and the quite evident amusement of the others, suddenly enlightened +Theodore. He knew instinctively that this man was master here and in a +few quick sentences he told what had happened. + +The gentleman listened in silence, but his keen, dark eyes took note +of the flushed face of one clerk and the amused smiles of his +companions. + +"Is this boy's story true, Mr. Hammond?" he asked, sternly. + +Mr. Hammond could not deny it "It was only a joke, sir," he said, +uneasily. + +"A joke, was it?" responded his employer. "I am not fond of such +jokes." Then he turned again to the boy and inquired, "How much is due +you for cleaning the signs?" + +"I don't know. I'm just starting in in this business, an' I'm not sure +what I ought to charge. Can you tell me, sir?" + +The gentleman smiled down into the young face lifted so frankly to +his. + +"Why, no," he answered, gravely, but with a twinkle in his eyes. "I +believe our janitor usually attends to the signs." + +"Guess he don't attend to 'em very well, for they were awful dirty," +remarked the boy. "Took 'me 'most an hour to shine 'em up. Did you +notice 'em, sir, as you came in?" + +"No, I did not. I'll look at them now," and Theodore followed the +gentleman out to the steps. + +"Well, you have made a good job of it, certainly," the gentleman +said. "The signs haven't shone like that since they were first put +there. Quite a contrast to the others on the building. Come back +into the office a moment." + +He went back to Mr. Hammond's desk and again Theodore followed. + +"Mr. Hammond," said the gentleman, quietly, "you are willing of course +to pay for your joke. The boy has done his work extremely well. I +think he ought to have half a dollar for it." + +With anything but a happy expression, Mr. Hammond drew from his +pocket a half dollar and handed it to Theodore, who said, not to the +clerk, but to the gentleman, "Thank you, sir," and left the office. + +But he did not leave the building. He went to the owner of every brass +sign in or on the building and asked to be allowed to make every other +sign look as well as those of T.S. Harris, which he had just polished. + +Now, T.S. Harris was the owner of the building and the occupants of +the other offices considered that it would be wise to follow his +example in this matter, so the result was that Theodore spent all the +morning over the signs on that one building, and Mr. Harris having set +the price, he received twenty-five cents for each sign. He was just +putting a finishing rub on the last one when the janitor discovered +what had been going on. He came at the boy in a great rage for he +wanted no one to have anything to do with the care of the building +except those whom he chose to hire. + +"You take your traps an' clear out o' this now, an' don't you ever +dare to show your face here again," he shouted, angrily. "If I catch +ye here again I'll kick ye down the stairs!" + +"P'raps Mr. Harris will have a word to say about that," replied +Theodore, coolly, for in one and another of the offices he had picked +up enough to convince him that the word of Mr. Harris was law in that +building. Then he added, in a much more friendly tone, + +"Now, look here, mister. You're too busy a man to be cleaning +signs--'course you are. You've got to hire somebody t' do it an' the' +won't anybody do it better or fer less money 'n I will. I'm a-goin' to +make a reg'lar business of cleanin' brasses all 'round this +neighbourhood, an' if you'll stan' by me an' help me fix it all right +with the other bosses 'bout here--I'll see 't you don't lose anythin' +by it." + +The janitor's fierce frown had slowly faded as the boy spoke. Nothing +pleased him so much as to be considered a person of influence, and had +Theodore been ever so shrewd he could have adopted no other line of +argument that would so quickly and effectually have changed an enemy +into a friend as did this that he hit upon merely by chance. The man +stepped down to the sidewalk and looked up at the signs with a +critical air. + +"Wai'," he answered, slowly, "I ain't a-goin' to deny that you've done +your work well--yes a sight better'n any of the lazy rascals I've been +hiring, an' if you could be depended on now, I d'know but what I +might's well give the work to you as to anybody else. Of course, as +you say, 'tain't my place to do servant's work like brass cleanin'." + +"Of course not," assented Theo, promptly. + +"But then," the man went on, "if I should speak for ye t' the janitors +of the other buildings 'long here, 'n' get ye a big line o' custom, +'course I sh'ld have a right t' expect a--er--a sort o' commission on +the profits, so to speak?" + +"Oh!" replied Theodore, rather blankly. "What _is_ a commission, +anyhow?" + +The man explained. + +"And how much of a commission would you expect?" questioned the boy. + +The janitor made a mental calculation. Here on this one building, the +boy had cleaned seven signs. That made a dollar and seventy-five cents +that he had earned in one morning. Of course he would not often get so +much out of one building, but the man saw that there were good +possibilities in this line of work. + +"S'pose we say ten per cent.--ten cents out of every dollar?" he +ventured, with a keen glance at the boy. + +"You mean ten per cent, on all the work that I get through you?" Theo +replied. + +"Oh no--on _all_ the work of this sort that you do. That's no +more'n fair since you'll owe your start to me." + +"Not much! I owe my start to myself, an' I'll make no such bargain as +that," answered Theo, decidedly. "I'm willin' to give you ten per +cent. on all that I get through you, but not a cent more. You see I'm +bound to put this thing through whether you help me or not," he added, +quietly. + +The janitor saw that he had been too grasping and hastened to modify +his demands lest he lose his commissions altogether. + +"Well, well," he said, soothingly, "we won't quarrel over a little +difference like that. Let it be as you say, ten per cent. on all the +jobs I get for ye, an' there's the janitor of the Laramie Building on +the steps this minute. Come along with me an' I'll give ye a start +over there--or, first--ain't there a little matter to attend to," he +added, with an insinuating smile. "You'll settle your bills fast as +they come due, of course, an' you've got a snug little sum out of my +building here." + +"Yes, but no thanks to you for that," replied Theo, but as the man's +face darkened again, he added, "but never mind, I'll give you the +commission on this work since it's in your building," and he handed +eighteen cents to the janitor, who slipped it into his pocket with an +abstracted air as if unconscious of what he was doing. + +The result of the man's recommendation to his brother janitor was that +Theodore secured the promise of all the brass cleaning in the Laramie +Building also, and that with one or two small jobs kept him busy until +dark when he went home with a light heart and with the sum of three +dollars and fourteen cents in his pocket. To be sure he had worked +hard all day to earn it, but Theodore never had been lazy and he was +willing enough to work hard now. + +He carried home some oranges as a special treat that night, for now he +took his supper regularly with Nan who was glad to make a return in +this fashion for the help he was continually giving her in carrying +out her food supplies, as well as many other ways. + +As they arose from the supper-table, Theodore said, "I'll go across +an' see how Jimmy got on to-day, at the stand," but even as he spoke +there came a low knock at the door and there stood Jimmy--no longer +proud and happy as he had been in the morning, but with red eyes and a +face full of trouble. + +"Why, Jimmy, what's the matter?" cried Nan and Theo, in one voice. + +"Come in," added Nan, kindly pulling him in and gently pushing him +toward a chair. + +Jimmy dropped into it with an appealing glance at Theo. + +"I'm--I'm awful sorry, Tode," he began. "But I--I couldn't help it, +truly I couldn't." He rubbed his sleeve hastily across his eyes as he +spoke. + +"But what is it, Jimmy? I'm sure you did the best you could whatever +is wrong, but do tell us what it is," exclaimed Theodore, half +laughing and half impatient at the uncertainty. + +"'Twas that mean ol' Carrots," began Jimmy, indignantly. "I was +sellin' things off in fine style, Tode, an' Carrots, he came along an' +he said he wanted three san'wiches in a paper. I put 'em up fer him, +an' then he asked fer six doughnuts an' some gingerbread, an' a cup o' +coffee--an' he wanted 'em all in a paper." + +"Not the coffee, Jimmy," said Nan, laughingly, as the boy stopped to +take breath. + +"No, 'course not the coffee. He swallered that an' put in a extry +spoonful o' sugar too, but he wanted all the rest o' the things in a +paper bag, an' I did 'em up good for him, an' then he asked me to tie +a string 'round 'em, an' I got down under the stand for a piece of +string, an' when I found it, an' looked up--don't you think Tode--that +rascal was streakin' it down the street as fast's he could go, an' I +couldn't leave the stand to run after him, an' 'course the' wasn't any +p'lice 'round, an' so I had to let him go. I'm awful sorry, Theo, but +I couldn't help it." + +"'Course you couldn't, Jimmy. And is that all the trouble?" + +"Yes, that's 'nough, ain't it?" answered Jimmy, mournfully. "He got +off with more'n forty cents worth o' stuff--the old pig! I'll fix him +yet!" + +"Well, don't worry any more over it, Jimmy. Losin' th' forty cents +won't break me, I guess," said Theo, kindly. + +Jimmy brightened up a little, but the shadow again darkened his face +as he said, anxiously, "I s'pose you won't never trust me to run the +stand again?" + +"Trust you, Jimmy? Well, I guess I will. No danger of _your_ +trusting Carrots again, I'm sure." + +"Not if I know myself," responded Jimmy, promptly, and Theo went on, + +"I s'pose your mother wouldn't want you to stay out of school mornin's +for a week or two?" + +Jimmy looked at him with sparkling eyes. + +"Do you mean"--he began, breathlessly, and then paused. + +"I mean that I may want you to run the stand for me all next week, as +well as to-morrow," Theo answered. + +"Oh--ee! That's most too good to b'lieve," cried the little +fellow. "Say! I think you're--you're prime, Tode. I must go an' tell +ma," and he dashed out of the door, his face fairly beaming with +delight. + +"It's worth while to make anybody so happy, isn't it, Theo?" Nan said, +then she added, thoughtfully, "Do you think the brass-cleaning will +take all your time, so you can't be at the stand any more?" + +"Just at first it will. Maybe I shall fix it differently after a +while," he answered. + +On his way to the business district the next morning, he stopped and +bought a blank book and a pencil, and wherever he cleaned a sign or a +railing that day, he tried to make a regular engagement to keep the +brasses in good condition. If he secured a promise of the work by the +month he made a reduction on his price, and every business man--or +janitor who regularly engaged him, was asked to write his own name in +the new blank book. Not on the first page of the book, however. That +the boy kept blank until about the time when Mr. Harris had come to +his office the day before. At that hour, Theodore was waiting near the +office door, and there Mr. Harris found him as he came up the steps. + +"Good-morning, sir," said Theo, pulling off his cap with a smile +lighting up his plain face. + +"Good-morning," returned the gentleman. "Have you found something +else to polish up here to-day?" + +"No, sir, but I wanted to ask you if you would sign your name here in +my book," the boy replied. + +Mr. Harris looked amused. "Come into my office," he said, "and tell me +what it is that you want." + +Theodore followed him across the outer office to the private room +beyond. The clerks cast curious glances after the two, and Hammond +scowled as he bent over his desk. + +"Now let me see your book," said Mr. Harris, as the door of the office +swung silently behind them. + +Theo laid his rags and paste box on the carpet, and then put the blank +book on the desk as he said, earnestly, + +"You see, sir, I'm trying to work up a reg'lar business, an' so I want +the business men I work for to engage me by the month to take care of +their brass work--an' I guess I did learn a lesson here yesterday, for +to-day I've asked every gentleman who has engaged me to sign his name +in this book--See?" + +He turned over the leaves and showed three names on the second page. + +"And you want my name there, too? But I haven't engaged you. I only +gave you a job yesterday." + +"But your janitor has engaged me," answered Theodore, quickly. + +"Well, then, isn't it the janitor's name that you want?" + +"Oh, no, sir," cried the boy, earnestly. "Nobody knows the janitor, +but I guess lots o' folks know you, an' your name would make others +sign--don't you see?" + +Mr. Harris laughed. "I see that you seem to have a shrewd business +head. You'll make a man one of these days if you keep on. And you want +my name on this first page?" he added, dipping his pen into the +inkstand. + +"Yes, because you was my first friend in this business," replied +Theodore. + +Mr. Harris glanced at him with that amused twinkle in his eye, but he +signed his name on the first page. + +Then he said, "I wish you success in your undertaking, and here's a +trifle for a send-off." He held out a silver dollar as he spoke, but +Theodore did not take it. + +"Thank ye, sir," he said, gratefully; "you've been real good to me, +but I can't take any money now, 'cept what I earn. I c'n earn all I +need." + +"So?" replied Mr. Harris, "you're independent. Well, I like that, but +I'll keep this dollar for you, and if you ever get in a tight place +you can come to me for it." + +"Thank you, Mr. Harris," said the boy again. "I won't forget, but I +hope I won't need it," and then he picked up his belongings and left +the office. As he passed Mr. Hammond's desk, he said, "Good-morning, +sir," but the clerk pretended not to hear. + +All through the next week and for weeks after, Theodore spent his time +from nine to five o'clock, cleaning brasses and making contracts for +the regular care of them, until he had secured as much work as he +could attend to himself. + +Meantime, Jimmy Hunt had taken entire charge of the stand and was +doing well with it. Theo gave him four-fifths of the profits and he +was perfectly satisfied, and so was his mother, who found his earnings +a welcome addition to the slim family income, and it was so near the +end of the school term that she concluded it did not matter if Jimmy +did stay out the few remaining weeks. + +But busy as Theodore was, he still found time to carry out what Nan +cooked for the people in the two houses, as well as to drop in on one +and another of his many neighbours every evening--for by this time the +night school had closed for the season. His Saturday evenings were +still spent at the flower stand, and now that blossoms were more +plentiful, he received more and better ones in payment for his work, +and his Sunday morning visits to the different rooms were looked +forward to all the week by many of those to whom he went, and hardly +less so by himself, for the boy was learning by glad experience the +wonderful joy that comes from giving happiness to others. When he saw +how the flowers he carried to stuffy, dirty, crowded rooms, were kept +and cherished and cared for even until they were withered and dead--he +was sure that his little flower mission was a real blessing. + +Before the hot weather came, Tommy O'Brien was carried away out of the +noisy, crowded room to the Hospital for Incurables. Theo had brought +one of the dispensary doctors to see the boy, and through the doctor's +efforts and those of Mr. Scott, Tommy had been received into the +hospital. He had never been so comfortable in his brief life as he was +there, but at first he was lonely, and so Theodore went once or twice +a week to see him, and he never failed to save out some flowers to +carry to Tommy on Sunday. + +But, however full Theodore's time might be, and however busy his +hands, he never forgot the search for Jack Finney. His eyes were +always watching for a blue-eyed, sandy-haired boy of sixteen, and he +made inquiries for him everywhere. Three times he heard of a boy +named Finney, and sought him out only to be disappointed, for the +first Jack Finney he found was a little chap of ten or eleven, and the +next was a boy of sixteen, but with hair and eyes as black as a +Jew's--and besides, it turned out that his name wasn't Finney at all, +but Findlay; and the third time, the boy he found was living at home +with his parents, so Theo knew that no one of the three was the boy of +whom he was in search and although he did not in the least give up the +matter, he came to the conclusion at last that his Jack Finney must +have left the city. + +Mr. Scott interested himself in the search because of his great +interest in Theodore, and he went to the reform school and the prison, +but the name he sought was on neither record. + +Although Theodore said nothing to any one about it, he was also on the +lookout for another boy, and that boy was Carrots. Ever since Carrots +had stolen the food from the stand, Theo had wanted to find him. More +than once he had caught a glimpse in the streets of the lank figure +and the frowzy red head, but Carrots had no desire to meet Theo and he +took good care to keep out of his way. + + + +XII. NAN FINDS FRIENDS + + +So the spring days slipped away until March and April were gone and +the middle of May had come. Theodore was counting the days now, for it +was in May that the bishop was to return--so Mrs. Martin had told +him--and the boy began to watch eagerly for the word that the +housekeeper had promised to send him. So full of this were his +thoughts and so busy was he with his work for himself and for others, +that he spent much less time than usual with Nan and Little Brother. + +About this time there was a week of extremely hot weather. One day +toward the close of this week as Theodore was passing Mrs. Hunt's +door, she called him in. + +"You'd better come here for your supper to-night," she said. + +Theodore looked at her with a quick, startled glance. + +"Why--where's Nan?" he inquired. + +"Nan's in her room, but she can't get you any supper to-night. She's +sick. I've seen for weeks past that Nan was overworkin' with all that +cooking she's been doin', and to-day she just gave out--an' she's flat +on her back now." + +Theodore was silent in blank dismay. Until that moment he had not +realised how much he had come to depend upon Nan. + +"Has she had a doctor, or anything?" he asked, in such a troubled +voice that Mrs. Hunt could not but be sorry for him. + +"No, I offered to send Jimmy for a doctor, but she said she only +wanted to rest, but I tell you what, Theo, she ain't goin' to get much +rest in that room, hot's an oven with the constant cooking, an' what's +more that baby can't stand it neither." + +"I'll go an' see her," replied the boy, slowly, "an'--I guess I don't +want any supper to-night, Mrs. Hunt." + +"Yes, you do want supper, too, Theodore. You come back here in half +an hour an' get it, an' look here--Don't worry Nan, talkin' 'bout her +being sick," Mrs. Hunt called after him in a low voice, as he turned +toward the girl's door. + +It seemed strange enough to Theodore to see bright, energetic Nan +lying with pale face and idle hands on the bed. She smiled up at the +boy as he stood silent beside the bed finding no words to say. + +"I'm only tired, Theo," she said, gently. "It has been so hot to-day, +and Little Brother fretted so that I couldn't get through my work so +well as usual." + +"He's sick too," answered Theodore, gravely. + +Nan turned her head to look at the little white face on the pillow +beside her. + +"Yes, he's sick. Oh Theo"--and then the girl covered her face with her +hands, and Theodore saw the tears trickling through her fingers. + +"Don't Nan, don't!" he cried, in a choked voice, and then he turned +and ran out of the room and out of the house. Straight to his teacher +he went, sure of finding there sympathy, and if possible, help. + +He was not disappointed. Mr. Scott listened to what he had to say, and +wrote a note to a friend of his own who was a physician, asking him to +see Nan and the baby at his earliest convenience. Then having +comforted Theodore, and compelled him to take some supper, Mr. Scott +sent him away greatly refreshed, and proceeded to talk the matter over +with his aunt, Mrs. Rawson. + +"Those two children ought to be sent away into the country, Aunt +Mary," he began. + +"Nan and Theodore, do you mean?" + +"No, no! Theodore's all right. He's well and strong. I mean Nan and +her little brother. Aunt Mary, it would make your heart ache to see +such a girl as that working as she has worked, and living among such +people. I wish you would go and see the child." + +"I'll try to go to-morrow, Allan. I've been intending to ever since +you told me about her, but the days do slip away so fast!" answered +the lady. + +But she found time to go the next day, and the first sight of Nan's +sweet face was enough to make her as deeply interested in the two as +her nephew had long been. + +"But what an uncomfortable place for a sick girl!" Mrs. Rawson +thought, as she glanced at the shutterless windows through which the +sun was pouring, making the small room almost unbearably hot, although +there was no fire in the stove. She noticed that the place was +daintily clean and neat, though bare as it well could be, but noisy +children were racing up and down the stairways and shouting through +the halls, making quiet rest impossible. Mrs. Rawson's kind heart +ached as she looked from the room to the pure face of the girl lying +there with the little child beside her. + +"She must be a very unusual girl to look like that after living for +months in this place," she thought to herself. + +While she was there the doctor came, and when he went away, +Mrs. Rawson went with him that she might tell him what she knew about +the girl's life and learn what he thought of the case. + +"It is a plain case of overwork," he said. "From what you tell me the +girl has been doing twice as much as she was able to do, and living in +that little oven of a room with nothing like the fresh air and +exercise she should have had, and very likely not half enough to +eat. The baby seems extremely delicate. Probably it won't live through +the summer, and a good thing too if there's no one but the girl to +provide for them. What they need is--to go straight away into the +country and stay there all summer, or better yet, for a year or two, +but I suppose that is out of the question." + +"I must see what can be done, doctor. Such a girl as that surely ought +not to be left to struggle along unfriended." + +"No, but there are so many such cases. Well, I hope something can be +done for her. I'll call and see her again to-morrow, but medicine is +of little use in a case like this," the doctor replied. + +Mrs. Rawson was not one to "let the grass grow under her feet," when +she had anything to do, and she felt that she had something to do in +this case. She thought it over as she went home, and before night she +had written to a relative in the country--a woman who had a big farm +and a big heart--to ask if she would board Nan and her little brother +for the summer. She described the two, and told how bravely the girl +had battled with poverty and misfortune until her strength had +failed. The letter went straight from the warm heart of the writer to +that of her friend and the response was prompt. + +"Send those two children right to me, and if rest and pure air and +plenty of wholesome food are what they need, please God, they shall +soon be strong and well. They are surely His little ones, and you know +I am always ready and glad to do His work." + +Such was the message that Mrs. Rawson read to her nephew two days +after her visit to Nan, and his face was full of satisfaction as he +listened to it. + +"Nothing could be better," he said. "It will be a splendid place for +those children, and it will be a good thing too for Mrs. Hyde to have +them there." + +"Yes, I think so," replied Mrs. Rawson, "but now the question is--will +Nan consent to go? From what little I have seen of her I judge that +she will not be at all willing to accept help from strangers." + +"She will shrink from it, perhaps, for herself, but for the sake of +that little brother I think she will consent to go. Theo tells me that +she has been exceedingly anxious about the child for weeks past," +answered Mr. Scott. + +"Well, I'll go to-morrow and see if I can prevail upon her to accept +this offer, but Allan, one thing you must do, if Nan does consent to +go--and that is, you must break it to Theodore. It's going to be a +blow to him, to have those two go away from the city. He'll be left +entirely alone." + +"So he will. I hadn't thought of that. I must think it over and see +what can be done for him. He certainly must not stay there, with no +place but that dark little closet in which he sleeps," replied the +gentleman. + +Mrs. Rawson's kindly sympathy and gentle manners had quickly won Nan's +confidence and the girl welcomed her warmly when she appeared in the +little room the next morning. She found Nan sitting by the open +window, with her pale little brother in her arms. + +"Oh, I'm ever so much better," she said, in reply to Mrs. Rawson's +inquiries. "The doctor's medicine helped me right away, but I don't +feel very strong yet--not quite well enough to begin my cooking +again. I'm going to begin it to-morrow," she added. + +"Indeed, you'll not do any cooking to-morrow, Nan," said the lady, +decidedly. "You're not fit to stand over the stove or the mixing +board, and besides, it would make the room too hot for the baby." + +Nan glanced anxiously at the little face on her arm. + +"I can carry him in to Mrs. Hunt's. He's no trouble, and she's always +willing to keep him," she answered. + +"Now, my child, I want you to listen to me," Mrs. Rawson began, and +went on to tell the girl about the plans she had made for her and her +little brother. + +Nan listened, with the colour coming and going in her face. + +"It is so good--so kind of you to think of this," she exclaimed, +earnestly, "and I'd _love_ to go. Mrs. Rawson, you don't know how +I hate living in a place like this," she shuddered, as she spoke, "and +it would be like heaven to get away into the sweet clean country, with +good people--but I can't go unless there is something I can do +there. I _couldn't_ go and live on charity, you know." + +"It wouldn't be charity, Nan; it would be love," answered Mrs. Rawson, +gently. "Mrs. Hyde keeps one room in her house always ready for any +guest whom the Lord may send her and I think He is sending you there +now. Remember, my child, you have this dear sick baby to think of, as +well as yourself. Nan, the doctor thinks Little Brother will not live +through the summer unless he is taken away from the city." + +Nan gave a quick, gasping breath, as she drew the baby closer and bent +her face over his. When she looked up again her eyes were wet, and +she said, in a low tone, + +"If that is so, I can't refuse this kind offer, and I will try to find +some way to make it right." + +"There's nothing to make right, dear; you've only to go and be just as +happy and contented as you can be. I know you will be happy there. +You can't help loving Mrs. Hyde. And now, my child, there's another +matter." She paused and added, in a low tone, "I had a little girl +once, but God took her away from my home. She would have been about +your age now if she had staid with me. For her sake, Nan, I want you +to let me get a few things that you and the baby will need. Will you, +dear?" + +Nan was proud. She had never gotten accustomed to poverty and its +painful consequences, and she would have preferred to do without, any +time, rather than accept a gift from those on whom she had no claim; +but she realised that she could not go among strangers with only the +few poor garments that she now had, so, after a moment's silence, she +answered, in a voice that was not quite steady, + +"You are very, very good to me, Mrs. Rawson. I'll try to be good too, +only, please don't get a single thing that I can do without." + +"Nan, if you had plenty of money and you found a girl who had been +left all alone in the world, with no one to do anything for her--would +you think it was any wonderful kindness in you to spend a few dollars +for her?" + +"N--no, of course not. I'd just _love_ to do it," replied Nan, +"but"-- + +"That's enough, then, and now there's only one more thing I have to +speak about. I know some girls, who have formed themselves into a band +called a 'King's Daughter Circle,' and they meet once a week to sew +for somebody who is not able to do her own sewing. I've told these +girls a little about you and they want very much to do some sewing for +Little Brother and you. Now, would you be willing to let them come +here to-morrow afternoon? Would it trouble you?" + +The colour rose in Nan's cheeks and her lips trembled, and for a +moment she seemed to shrink into herself as she thought what a +contrast her poor surroundings would be to these other girls, who +lived such different lives from hers, but she saw that Mrs. Rawson was +really desirous that they should come, and she was not willing to +disappoint one who was doing so much for her; so after a moment's +silence she answered, + +"Of course they can come, if you think they won't mind too much." She +glanced about the room as she spoke. + +Mrs. Rawson leaned over and kissed her. "Child," she said, "they know +nothing about the trials that come into other lives--like yours. I +want them to know you. Don't worry one bit over their coming. They are +dear girls and I'm sure you will like them--as sure as I am that they +will all love you--and Nan, one thing more, leave Mr. Scott to tell +Theodore about your going." + +Then she went away, leaving Nan with many things to think about. She +could not help worrying somewhat over the coming of those girls. As +she recalled her own old home, she realised how terribly bare and poor +her one room would look to these strangers and she shrank nervously +from the thought of meeting them. More than once, she was tempted to +ask Theo to go to Mrs. Rawson and tell her that the girls could not +come there. + +Mrs. Rawson went straight from Nan's room to the shopping district, +where she purchased simple but complete outfits for Nan and the +baby. The under garments and the baby's dresses she bought ready-made +and also a neat wool suit for the girl and hats and wraps for both, +but she bought enough pretty lawn and gingham to make as many wash +dresses as Nan would require, and these she carried home and cut out +the next morning. That evening too she sent notes to the members of +the circle telling them to meet at her house before one o'clock the +next day, which was Saturday. + +They came promptly, eleven girls between fifteen and seventeen, each +with her sewing implements. Bright, happy girls they were, as Nan +might have been, had her life been peaceful and sheltered like theirs, +Mrs. Rawson thought, as she welcomed them. + +"Sit down, girls," she said, "I want to tell you more about my poor +little Nan before you see her." + +She told the story in such fashion that the warm, girlish hearts were +filled with a sweet and tender sympathy for this other girl, and they +were eager to do all that they could for her. + +Not one of them had ever before been in a tenement house like the one +to which Mrs. Rawson led them, and they shrank from the rude children +and coarse women whom they encountered in the halls and on the stairs, +and pressed closer together, grasping each other's hands. + +Nan's face whitened and her thin hands were clasped tightly together +as she heard them coming along the hall. She knew it was they, so +different were their quiet footsteps from most that passed her door. + +Nan opened the door in response to Mrs. Rawson's knock and the girls +flocked in, looking so dainty and pretty in their fresh shirt-waists +and dimities, and their gay ribbons. As Nan looked at them she was +painfully conscious of her own faded calico and worn shoes, and her +cheeks flushed, but the girls gave her no time to think of these +things. They crowded about her, introducing each other with merry +laughter and gay little jokes, seeming to take Nan right in among them +as one of themselves, and taking prompt possession of the baby, who +wasn't a bit shy, and appeared to like to be passed from one to +another, and kissed, and called sweet names. + +Nan had borrowed all Mrs. Hunt's chairs, but still there were not +enough, and three or four girls gleefully settled themselves on the +bed. Every one of them had come with her hands full of flowers, and +seeing these, Mrs. Rawson had brought along a big glass rose bowl, +which the girls speedily filled and set in the middle of the table. + +A tap at the door announced the arrival of a boy with a box and a bag +for Mrs. Rawson, and out of the box she lifted a baby sewing machine, +which she fastened to the table. Then from the bag she took the lawn +and gingham as she said, + +"Now, girls, your tongues can run just as fast as your fingers sew, +but remember this tiny machine works very rapidly and you've got to +keep it supplied. I'll hem this skirt first." + +In an instant every girl had on her thimble, and they all set to work +with right good will. + +"Can't I do some, too?" said Nan. "I don't want to be the only idle +one." + +"You can gather some ruffles in a few minutes--as soon as I have +hemmed them," answered Mrs. Rawson, smiling to herself, as she saw how +bright and interested Nan looked already. + +All that long, bright afternoon tongues and needles were about equally +busy. Fortunately it was cooler, else the girls would have been +uncomfortable in the small room, but as it was, not even Nan gave more +than a passing thought to the bare room and its lack of +comfort. Indeed, after the first few moments, Nan forgot all about +herself and just gave herself up to the delight of being once more a +girl among girls. She thought them lovely, every one, and indeed they +were lovely to her in every way, for her sweet face and gentle manners +had won them all at first sight. How they did chatter! Never before +had that room--or indeed any room in that dreary building, held such a +company as gathered there that day. + +At half-past five there came another rap on the door, and Mrs. Rawson +exclaimed, "Put up your sewing, girls. We've business of another sort +to attend to now." + +The girls looked at her inquiringly as Nan opened the door again. + +"Bring them in," called Mrs. Rawson, and a man edged his way gingerly +among the girls and set two big baskets and an ice cream freezer +beside the table. + +"A house picnic! Mrs. Rawson, you're a darling!" called one and +another of the girls. + +Mrs. Rawson nodded a laughing acknowledgment of the compliment, as she +said, "Open the baskets, girls. The dishes are in the round one. I +thought Nan might not be prepared for quite such a family party." + +With quick, deft fingers the girls swept aside the sewing, unscrewed +the little machine, spread a fine damask cloth over the pine table, +and on it arranged the pretty green and gold dishes and glasses, +putting the big bowl of roses in the centre. + +Then from the other basket they took tiny buttered biscuits, +three-cornered sandwiches, tied with narrow green ribbons, a dish of +chicken salad, and a big loaf of nut cake. All these quite covered the +table so that the cream had to be left in the freezer until it was +wanted. + +How Nan did enjoy that feast! How her eyes shone with quiet happiness +as she watched the bright faces and listened to the merry talk; not +all merry either, for more than once it touched upon the deep things +of life, showing that the girls had thought much, even if their lives +had been happy, sheltered ones. + +When the feast was ended, the dishes repacked in the basket, and the +unfinished work put away, the girls gathered about Nan to say +"good-bye," and she wondered how she could have dreaded their +coming,--for now it seemed as if she could not let them go. She felt +as if all the joyous brightness would vanish with them. The quick +young eyes read something of this feeling in her face, and more than +one girl left a kiss with her cordial farewell. + +The room seemed very still and lonely to Nan when the last flutter of +light dresses was gone and the last faint echo of girlish voices and +footsteps had died on her eagerly listening ears. She dropped into the +rocking-chair and looked about the room, trying to repeople it with +those fair, young, friendly faces. She could almost have imagined it +all a dream but for the cake and sandwiches and ice cream on the +table. + +The sight of the fast melting cream suggested another thought to +her. Hastily filling a plate with portions of everything on the table, +she set it away for Theodore and then went across to Mrs. Hunt's rooms +to tell her to come with the children and take all that was left. + +The eyes of the children gleamed with delight at sight of the +unexpected treat, and they speedily emptied the dishes which their +mother then carried home to wash, while the children took back the +borrowed chairs. + +By this time Nan began to feel very weary, and she threw herself down +on the bed with the baby, but she kept in her hand some little scrips +of the pretty lawns and ginghams that she had found on the floor. It +seemed hardly possible to her that she could be going to have such +dresses. Why--one of the scrips was exactly like a waist that one of +those girls had worn. Nan gazed at it with a smile on her lips, a +smile that lingered there until it was chased away by the remembrance +of Theo's loneliness when she and Little Brother should be far away. + + + +XIII. NAN'S DEPARTURE + + +Theo was feeling that he needed sympathy about that time, for it +seemed to him as if every one that he cared for was to be taken away +from him. + +Mr. Scott had invited the boy to go with him for a row on the river +and then to go home with him to supper. The river was beautiful in the +afternoon sunlight, and Theodore enjoyed the row and the friendly talk +with his teacher, but he felt a little shy with Mrs. Rawson and was +not sorry to find her absent from the supper-table. + +When the meal was over Mr. Scott took the boy up to his own room to +see some of his curiosities. Theo's quick eyes took silent note of +everything, and he mentally decided that some day he would have just +such a room as that. He was thinking thus, when Mr. Scott said, + +"Theo, you haven't asked me what Dr. Reed thinks about Nan and her +little brother." + +"She's better to-day--Nan is," exclaimed the boy, quickly. + +"Yes, I suppose the medicine has toned her up a little, but the doctor +says that she must have a long rest. She has been working too hard." + +"Well, she can. I'm earnin' enough now to take care of 'em," +interposed the boy. + +"Nan would never be content to let you do that, I think, but, Theo, +that isn't all." + +Theo said nothing, but his anxious eyes asked the question that his +lips refused to utter. + +Mr. Scott went on, "The doctor says that the baby must go away into +the country or--he will die." + +Theodore walked quickly to the window, and stood there looking out in +silence. After a moment, his teacher crossed the room and laid his arm +affectionately over the boy's shoulders. + +"Sit down, Theodore," he said, gently, "I want to tell you what we +have planned for Nan and the little one." + +Then in few words he told of Mrs. Rawson's letter and the reply, +describing the beautiful country home to which Nan and the baby were +to go. + +"You will be glad to think of them in such a place during the hot +summer days," he went on, "even though their going leaves you very +lonely, as I know it will, Theodore." + +"I ought to be glad, Mr. Scott," replied the boy, slowly, as his +teacher paused, "an' I am, but ye see you don't know how hard 'tis for +a feller to keep straight when he ain't got no home an' nobody to talk +to after his work's done at night. Nan--well _you_ know she ain't +like the rest o' the folks down our way. She never scolds nor nags at +me, but somehow I can't ever look her straight in the eye if I've been +doin' anything mean." + +"Nan has been a good friend to you, I'm sure, and I think you have +been a good friend to her and the baby, Theodore. I know that she will +miss you sadly at first, and if she thinks you are to be very lonely +without them, I'm afraid she will worry about it and not get as much +good from the change as she might otherwise," Mr. Scott added. + +The boy drew a long breath. "I won't let her know 't I care much 'bout +their goin'," he said, bravely. + +"Nan will guess quite enough," answered the gentleman, "but, Theodore, +how would you like to come here? Mrs. Rawson has a little room over +the L that she seldom uses, and she says that you can sleep there if +you like, and pay for it the same that you pay for the dark room that +you now have." + +The boy's eyes were full of surprise and pleasure as he answered, +gratefully, "I'd like that fine!" + +"Come on, then, and we'll take a look at the place. It has been used +as a storeroom and will, of course, need some fixing up." + +As Mr. Scott threw open the door of the L room Theodore stepped in and +looked about him with shining eyes. It was a long, low room with +windows on three sides. The floor was covered with matting and the +walls with a light, cheerful paper. + +"This for me!" exclaimed the boy. "Why, Mr. Scott, it's--it's too fine +for a chap like me." + +"Not a bit, my boy, but I think you can be very comfortable here, and +you will know that you have friends close at hand. And now, Theodore, +I suppose you will want to get home, for we hope to get Nan away next +week." + +"So soon!" cried the boy, a shadow falling on the face, a moment +before so bright. + +"Yes, the sooner the better for the little one's sake," replied +Mr. Scott, gravely. + +"You've been mighty good to me--an' to Nan," said the boy, simply, and +then he went away. + +He walked rapidly through the streets, taking no note of what was +passing around him, his thoughts were so full of this new trouble, for +a great and sore trouble it seemed to him to lose Nan and Little +Brother out of his life even for a few weeks. His way led him across +the Common, but he hurried along with unseeing eyes until suddenly +something bright attracted his attention, and he became aware that it +was a shock of rough red hair under a ragged old cap. It was surely +Carrots sitting on one of the benches, his eyes gazing moodily across +the greensward to the street beyond. He did not notice Theo's +approach, but started up quickly, as the latter stopped in front of +him. + +"Hold on, Carrots--don't clear out. I want to tell you something," +cried Theo, hastily, laying a detaining hand on one ragged sleeve. + +Carrots looked at him suspiciously. "D'know what yer got ter say ter +me," he growled. + +"Sit down here, an' I'll tell ye." + +Theodore sat down on the bench as he spoke, and after a moment's +hesitation the other boy dropped down beside him, but he kept a wary +glance on his companion, and was plainly ready to "cut and run" at a +moment's notice. + +"You look's if you were down on your luck," began Theo, with a glance +at the ragged garments, and dilapidated shoes of the other. + +"'Course--I'm always down on my luck," responded Carrots, in a tone +that implied, "what business is that of yours?" + +"Sellin' papers now?" + +"Yes, but a feller can't make a livin' out o' that. There's too many +kids in the business, an' folks'll buy o' the kids ev'ry time, 'n' +give us big fellers the go-by," Carrots said, in a gloomy tone. + +"That's so. The little chaps always sell most," assented +Theodore. "Why don't you get into some other business, Carrots?" + +"Can't--'cause my money's all tied up in railroad stock," retorted +Carrots, with bitter sarcasm. + +"Carrots, what made ye play such a mean trick on Jim Hunt the other +day?" asked Theodore, suddenly. + +Carrots grinned. "Hunt's a fool," he answered, "else he wouldn't 'a' +give me a chance ter work him so slick." + +"Well, I don't think you'll play it on him again. I think you were the +fool, Carrots, for you know well enough you can't get such good stuff +anywhere else for your money, an' now ye can't go to my stand." + +"Got it 'thout money that time," chuckled Carrots, impudently, but +still keeping a sharp eye on his companion. + +Theo flushed, and his fingers itched to pitch into the boy and give +him a good drubbing, but he controlled himself, and said, quietly, +"What's the trouble with you, Carrots? Are you too lazy to work, or +what?" + +The boy's eyes flashed angrily, as he replied, "See here, Tode +Bryan--what ye pokin' yer nose int' my business for, anyhow?" + +"'Cause I can put you in the way of earnin' honest money if you're +willin' to do honest work." + +"What sort o' work?" Carrots inquired, suspiciously. + +"I'll tell ye 'bout it when I'm sure you're ready to take hold of it, +an' not before. See here, Carrots, I've seen you lately loafin' 'round +with some o' the meanest fellers in this town, an' if you don't keep +away from them you'll find yourself where some of 'em have been +a'ready--behind the bars. I mean well by ye, an' if you make up your +mind to be a man instead of a tramp an' a loafer, you can come to me, +an' I'll give ye a start. Jim Hunt'll tell ye where to find me." + +The night shadows were falling now and the street lamps were already +lighted, and seeing this, Theodore started up, adding, "It's later'n I +thought. I must be off," and he hurried away, leaving Carrots looking +after him in a much bewildered state of mind. + +Theodore found Nan sitting by the window in the dark. She had rocked +the baby to sleep, and was thinking over the happy afternoon that +seemed now so like a beautiful dream. She lighted her lamp when +Theodore came in, and brought out the food that she had put aside for +him, and while he ate she told him of all that had happened. He did +not eat much and he was very silent, so silent that at last she paused +and said, anxiously, + +"You aren't sick, are you, Theo?" + +"No," he replied, gravely, "an' Nan, I'm real glad you're goin' to +such a nice place." But though he spoke earnestly, there was in his +voice a ring of pain that Nan detected instantly, and guessed its +cause. + +"I'm going to miss you dreadfully, Theo," she said, quickly, "and I +don't know what Little Brother will do without you. That's the one +thing about it that I don't like--to think of you all alone here with +no place to stay evenings." + +"Mr. Scott says I can have a room where he lives--at Mrs. Rawson's," +answered Theodore. "It's a fine room--bigger'n this, an' it's got +checked straw carpet an' three windows." + +"Oh, Theo, how glad I am!" cried the girl, delightedly. "That's just +splendid. Don't you like it?" she added, as the boy still sat with +serious eyes fixed on the floor. + +"Like it? The room you mean? Oh yes, it's a grand room, but I don't +think I'll go there," he answered, slowly. + +The gladness died out of Nan's face. "Oh, Theo, why not?" she +exclaimed, in a disappointed tone. + +He answered again, slowly, "I think I shall stay here an' take this +room o' yours 'stead o' my little one." + +"This is ever so much better than yours, of course, an' if you do that +you can keep my furniture, and I s'pose you'd be comfortable, but +'twould be lonesome all the same, and I shouldn't think you'd like it +half so well as being with Mr. Scott." + +"'Course I wouldn't like it half nor quarter so well, Nan, but this is +what I've been thinkin'. You know there's a good many boys in these +two houses that don't have no place to stay evenin's, 'cept the +streets, an' I was thinkin' as I came home to-night, how fine 'twould +be if there was a room where they could come an' read an' play games +an' talk, kind of a boys' club room, don't ye know, like the one +Mr. Scott was tellin' 'bout they're havin' in some places. I think +he'll help me get some books an' papers an' games, an' maybe he'll +come an' give us a talk sometimes. It would be grand for fellers like +Jimmy Hunt that ain't bad yet, but will be if they stay in the streets +every evenin'." + +"Theo, I think it's a splendid idea, only there ought to be just such +a room for the girls. They need it even more than the boys do." Nan +hesitated a moment, then added, earnestly, "Theo, I'm proud of you." + +Theodore's face was the picture of utter amazement as he gazed at +her. "Proud--of me?" he gasped. "I'd like to know what for." + +"Well, never mind what for, but I want to say, Theo, what I've thought +ever so many times lately. When I first knew you, you were good to +Little Brother and me, so good that I can never forget it, but you +weren't"-- + +"I was meaner'n dirt," interposed the boy, sorrowfully. + +"No, but you'd never had any chance with nobody to teach you or help +you, and I used to hate to have you touch Little Brother, because I +thought you were not good." + +"I wasn't," put in Theodore, sadly. + +"But since you came back from the bishop's you've been so different, +and it seems to me you're always trying to help somebody now. +Theo--if Little Brother lives, I hope he'll be like you." + +Theodore stared at her in incredulous silence. "Like me. Little +Brother like me," he whispered, softly, to himself, the colour +mounting in his cheeks. Then he arose and walked over to the bed where +the child lay, with one small hand thrown out across the +bedclothes. The soft, golden hair lay in pretty rings on the moist +forehead, but the little face looked waxen white. + +Theodore stood for a moment looking down at the baby, then suddenly he +stooped and kissed the outstretched hand, and then without another +word he went away. + +Nan's eyes were full of tears as she looked after him. + +"How he does love Little Brother," she thought. "He's going to miss +him awfully." + +Monday was a busy day for Mrs. Rawson. She had engaged a seamstress +to finish off Nan's dresses, and having seen the woman settled to her +work, she set off herself for the tenement house, a boy going with her +to carry a small valise. + +She found Nan busy baking bread. The place was very warm and the girl +looked flushed and tired. Mrs. Hunt had carried the baby off to her +cooler rooms. + +"Nan, child, you've not taken up the cooking again?" exclaimed +Mrs. Rawson. + +"I had to do some--not very much," replied the girl, gently. + +"But, my dear, I thought you understood that we didn't want you to do +this any more." + +Nan only smiled as she set the last loaf in the oven. + +The lady went on, "Nan--we want you to go away to-morrow." + +Nan looked up with startled eyes. "So soon!" she exclaimed as +Theodore had done. + +"Why should there be any delay about it? Every day that you stay here +is so much actual loss to you and to the baby, too," added Mrs. +Rawson. + +With a bewildered air Nan dropped into a chair, saying, hesitatingly, + +"But how can I get ready to go to-morrow?" + +"Easily enough, if you let the cooking go. I was wondering as I came +along what you would do with your furniture." + +To Mrs. Rawson's eyes the few poor bits of furniture looked worthless +enough, but she realised that it would seem quite otherwise to the +girl who had bought them with her own hard earnings. + +But now Nan looked up with shining eyes and in eager words told of +Theodore's plan and the lady's face brightened as she listened. + +"It's a fine plan," she replied, heartily, "and it means a deal for +such a boy as Theodore to have thought of it." + +"And when he might have gone to your house, too," added Nan, +softly. "Mrs. Rawson, he'll be very lonely when Little Brother is +gone." + +"Yes, he'll miss you both sadly, but Nan, you mustn't worry about +Theodore. Mr. Scott loves the boy and will look out for him, you may +be sure of that. But now we must talk about your journey. I've brought +the things that I thought you would need on the way, and I'd like you +to try on this dress." + +She lifted the pretty wool suit from the valise as she spoke, and Nan +began to take off her faded calico. The colour rose in her face as she +did so, for she hated to have Mrs. Rawson see her poor under garments, +but the lady seemed not to notice, as she chatted away about the +dress. + +"Fits you beautifully. I was sure it would, for I had all the +measurements. I don't believe you will need to carry many of the +things you have, for there are plenty of the new ones," she said. "I +put into this little valise everything that will be needed for the +journey, and the other things can go with mine." + +Nan looked up quickly, crying out joyfully, "Oh, Mrs. Rawson, are you +going with us?" + +"To be sure. Did you suppose I meant for you to travel alone with a +sick baby? I'm going to stay a week." + +"That's lovely!" exclaimed the girl, with a sigh of relief. "I did +dread to go among entire strangers alone." + +"Mrs. Hyde won't be a stranger two minutes after you meet her. You +couldn't help loving her if you should try. Now then, let me see. You +are to be ready at half past nine to-morrow. The train goes at +10:15. I'll stop here for you. Now, child, don't work any more +to-day. Just rest so that you can enjoy the journey. Oh, there's one +thing I came near forgetting--shoes. Those will have to be +fitted. Can you come with me now and get them?" + +"Yes, if Mrs. Hunt can see to my baking," Nan replied. + +Mrs. Hunt was very ready to do so, and Nan and her new friend were +soon in a car on their way to the shoe store. + +When she returned to her room alone, the girl took out the pretty +serviceable garments from the valise and examined them all with +mingled pain and pleasure. It was a delight to her to have once more +such clothing as other girls wore, but to receive them from strangers, +even such kind strangers as Mrs. Rawson and the girls, hurt Nan more +than a little. But she did not feel quite the same about the dainty +garments for her little brother. Over those her eyes shone with +satisfaction. She could not resist the desire to see how he would look +in them, and when he was dressed she carried him in for Mrs. Hunt to +admire, and the two praised and petted the little fellow to their +hearts' content. + +Theodore had looked forward to a quiet evening with Nan and the +baby--that last evening that they were to spend together for so +long--but it proved to be anything but a quiet one. It had leaked out +that Nan was going away, and all through the evening the women and +girls in the house were coming to say "good-bye." Nan had not +expected this, for she had never had much to do with any of them, and +it touched her deeply when in their rough fashion they wished her a +pleasant summer and hoped that the baby would come back well and +strong. + +Theodore sat silent in a corner through all these leave-takings, and +some of the women, as they went back to their own rooms, spoke of the +loneliness the boy would feel without the baby that they all knew he +loved so dearly. + +When the last caller had departed, Theodore stood up and held out a +little purse to Nan. + +"Ain't much in it, but I want ye to use it for anything _he_ +wants," the boy said, with a gesture toward the child. + +Nan hesitated. She would not have taken it for herself, but she knew +that it would hurt Theo sadly, if she refused his gift, so she took +it, saying, "You've been so good to him always, Theo. I shan't let him +forget you ever." + +"No--don't," muttered the boy, and unable to trust himself to say +more, he turned away in silence, and went to his own room. The little +purse he had given Nan contained five dollars. + +"The dear boy! How good he is to us," Nan murmured, as she put the +bill back into it, "but I hope I shall not need to use this." + +Theodore ran in the next morning for a hasty good-bye before he went +out to his work. He had waited purposely until the last moment, so +that his leave-taking might be a brief one, and he said so little, and +said that little so coldly that a stranger might have thought him +careless and indifferent, but Nan knew better. Now that the time of +departure was so close at hand, she shrank nervously from it and +almost wished she had refused to go, but still she dressed Little +Brother and herself in good season, and was all ready when at nine +thirty, promptly, Mrs. Rawson appeared. The lady gave a satisfied +glance at the two, and then insisted upon carrying the baby downstairs +herself, while one of the Hunt children followed with Nan's valise. A +cab was waiting at the door, and cabs being rarities in that locality, +a crowd of curious children stood gaping at it, and waiting to see Nan +and the baby depart in it. + +"It is going to be a warm day. I shall be glad when we are fairly +off," Mrs. Rawson said, with an anxious glance at the baby's face, as +the cab rattled over the rough stones. + +As the little party entered the station, there was a flutter of light +raiment and bright ribbons, and Nan found herself fairly surrounded by +the eleven King's Daughters. They took possession of the baby, who +brightened up wonderfully at the sight of them, and they seized the +valise and Mrs. Rawson's handbag, and they trooped altogether through +the great station to the waiting train, and instead of saying, "Can't +go through yet, ladies--not till the train's made up," the gatekeeper +smiled in genial fashion into their bright faces and promptly unlocked +the gate for them. That was because one of them was the daughter of a +railroad official, but Nan didn't know that. + +The train was not all ready, but two of the parlor cars were there, +and into one of these the girls climbed, and then they found the seats +belonging to Mrs. Rawson and Nan, and put the extra wraps up in the +rack for them and pushed up the window, and did everything else that +they could think of for the comfort of the travellers. + +Then one of them pinned a great bunch of deliciously fragrant violets +to Nan's dress, and another fastened a tiny silver cross above the +violets, as she whispered, + +"We've made you a member of our circle, Nan, dear, and this is our +badge." + +And then Nan noticed that every one of the girls wore the tiny, silver +cross somewhere about her dress. She wondered what it meant and +determined to ask Mrs. Rawson later, but she could not talk much just +then--she was too happy with all those dear girls about her, +chattering to her and counting her in with themselves. + +At last there was a rumble and a jar, and people began to fill up the +seats in the car and one of the girls looked at her watch and +exclaimed, + +"We must say 'good-bye' girls, or we shall be carried off." + +"Wouldn't it be fun if we could all go too, and stay for the week with +Mrs. Rawson?" cried another. + +"Yes, indeed. If it weren't for school we might have done it." + +"Now remember, Nan, we're all going to write to you because you belong +to our circle," whispered another, and then, some with a kiss, and +some with a warm handshake, they said, "good-bye," and hastened out of +the car and stood on the platform outside the car windows, calling out +more farewells and last words, and waving hands and handkerchiefs, +until the train drew out of the station. + +Then Nan settled back in her comfortable seat with a happy light in +her dark eyes. + +"I didn't suppose there were any such girls in all the world, +Mrs. Rawson," she said; "girls who would be so dearly kind to a +stranger like me." + +"They certainly are dear girls. I think myself that there are not many +like them," Mrs. Rawson answered. "Some of them have been in my +Sunday-school class ever since they were nine years old." + +"Perhaps that accounts for it," Nan answered, shyly, with one of her +quick, bright smiles. Then she turned to look out of the window and +her face changed, for there on a fence, close beside the track, stood +Theodore, eagerly scanning the windows as the train went by. Nan +snatched up Little Brother and held him to the window, and a smile +broke over the boy's face as he waved his hat in response. Then the +train gathered speed and flew on, and the boy went slowly back to his +work. + +It was nearly sunset when the station where the travellers were to +stop, was reached. Nan's heart began to beat fast and she glanced +around somewhat anxiously as she stepped on to the platform, but the +next moment she found herself looking into Mrs. Hyde's face, and from +that instant all her fears and anxieties vanished. + +Mrs. Hyde had no children of her own, but the very spirit of +motherliness seemed to look out of her eyes, and she took the two +strangers into her heart at sight. The baby, wearied with the long +journey had been fretting for the last hour, but no sooner did he find +himself in Mrs. Hyde's arms, than he settled down comfortably and went +to sleep and slept soundly through the three mile drive from the +station. + +Mrs. Hyde did not say much to Nan during the drive, only by an +occasional word or smile, showing her that she was not forgotten, +while the two ladies talked together, but at last she laid her firm, +strong hand lightly on the girl's fingers, saying, + +"Look, dear--you are almost home." + +And Nan looked with happy eyes at a big, rambling, white house, shaded +by tall elms, and with wide piazzas on three sides. An old-fashioned +flower garden, with high box-bordered beds was at the back, and broad, +rolling acres, spread out on every side but one, where there was a +grove of grand old trees. + +The late afternoon sunlight was throwing long, level beams across the +green lawn, touching everything with a golden light as they drove up +to the side door, and Nan said to herself, + +"I don't see how anybody could help being well and happy here." + + + +XIV. THEODORE GIVES CARROTS A CHANCE + + +Theodore dreaded to go home that night. After his work was done he +went to a restaurant for supper and then strolled on to the Common. +It was cool and pleasant there under the wide-spreading trees, and he +sat down on one of the benches and wondered what Nan was doing then +and how Little Brother had borne the long hours of travel. + +When it was quite dark he went slowly homeward. Mrs. Hunt's door +stood open and he stopped to get the key which Nan was to leave there +for him. Jimmy sprang up and brought it to him, and Mrs. Hunt gave him +a kind word or two and asked him to come in and sit awhile, but he +said he was tired, and taking the key, he crossed the hall and +unlocked Nan's door. As he closed it behind him he gave a little +start, for he saw something move over by the window. The next instant +he realised that it was only Nan's chair which had rocked a little +from the jar of the closing door. The room was unlighted except for +the faint glimmer near the open windows. + +As Theo sat down in the rocking-chair, a wave of loneliness and +homesickness swept over him. Nan and Little Brother had made all the +home feeling he had ever known, and never before had he felt so +absolutely alone and friendless as he did to-night. + +Tag seemed to share the feeling too. He went sniffing about the room, +evidently searching for the two who were gone, and finally, with a +long breath like a sigh, he dropped down beside the rocking-chair and +rubbed his head against his master's hand with a low, troubled whine. +Theodore patted the rough head as he said, + +"Pretty lonesome, ain't it, old fellow?" and Tag rapped the floor with +his tail and whined again. + +For a long time the boy sat there gravely thinking. At last, with a +sigh, he said to himself, "Might's well go to bed. Don't feel like +doin' anything to-night." + +He was used to undressing in the dark and he did not light the lamp, +but as he was about to get into bed his hand touched something smooth +and stiff that was lying on the pillow. + +"It's a letter," he exclaimed, wonderingly, and he hastened to light +the lamp. + +"Oh!" he cried, breathlessly, as he saw the bold, firm +handwriting. "It's from the bishop." + +His cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining and his fingers fairly +shaking with excitement as he held the letter carefully in his hands, +reading and rereading the address. + +"THEODORE BRYAN, +Care of MRS. MARTIN." + +He thought how many times he had sat beside the bishop's desk and +watched the pen travelling so rapidly across the paper. Theodore would +have known _that_ writing anywhere. + +For a long time he did not open the letter. It was happiness enough to +know that it was there in his hands, the first letter he had ever +received. And to think that the bishop should have written it--to +him, Theodore Bryan! It was a pity that the bishop could not have seen +the boy's face as he stood looking with glowing eyes at the envelope. + +At last he opened it and began to read the letter. It was a long one, +and as the boy read on and on, his breath came quicker and his eyes +grew dim, and when he had finished it his cheeks were wet, but he did +not know it. He was not thinking of himself. There were many who would +have given much for a letter from the bishop, but surely none could +have appreciated one more than did the lonely boy who stood there that +night in the dimly-lighted room poring over those closely written +pages. Again and again he read the whole letter, and many times he +read over one passage until the words were written in letters of light +on his heart. When at last he went to bed it was to lie awake for +hours with the letter held tightly in his hand, while he repeated to +himself those words that he was to remember as long as he lived. + +"Mrs. Martin writes me that you are anxious to be assured of my +forgiveness. My dear boy, if you have ever wronged me I forgive you as +freely and fully as I hope for forgiveness myself; but, Theodore, had +you wronged me ever so deeply, it would all be blotted out by the joy +it gives me to know that you are a soldier of the Cross. I know that +you will be a faithful soldier--loyal even unto death--and may the +great Captain whom we both serve, have you ever in His holy keeping." + +Over and over the boy repeated these words as he lay sleepless, but +full of deep happiness and peace. "Whom we both serve." The wise and +holy bishop and he, a poor ignorant street boy, were soldiers now +under the one great Captain. Faithful and loyal even unto death? Ah +yes, Theodore pledged himself anew to such service in the watches of +that night. + +Nevertheless, the letter had brought to the boy a fresh +disappointment, for it informed him that the bishop had been ill ever +since he left the city, and that it had been decided that he should +remain away until October. + +"Five months longer before I can see him," Theodore thought +sorrowfully, yet he could not grieve as he had done before. It almost +seemed as if he could feel the bishop's hand actually resting upon his +head, and see the kind eyes looking down into his. The boy had not +been so happy since he left the bishop's house as he was on this night +when he had expected to be so lonely and miserable. + +"Oh if Nan only knew, how glad she would be," he thought more than +once. + +He slept at last with the letter clutched tightly in his hand, and his +fingers had not loosed their hold when he awoke the next morning, nor +had the joy died out of his heart. His thoughts were very busy as he +dressed, and suddenly he stopped short, with one shoe on and the other +in his hand. + +"That's it!" he cried aloud. "That's what the bishop meant that +Sunday! 'Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price.' The great +Captain's bought me for one of His soldiers, an' I've got to do what +He says. I never knew before just what that meant, but I do now." Then +he added, softly, "But I want to do what He says, anyhow." + +Going forth in this spirit to his work, Theodore could hardly fail to +find something to do for his Captain. + +Mrs. Hunt had decided to take up the work that Nan had been doing, and +to furnish supplies for the stand. She had the big basket all ready +when Theodore came from his room, and he and Jimmy set off with it for +the stand where both the boys now took their breakfasts. + +Theodore was unusually quiet and thoughtful, and there was something +in his face that silenced Jimmy's lively tongue that morning. The two +boys had just gotten their stand ready for business, when Theodore +exclaimed, eagerly, + +"There he is now!" and darted off. + +Jimmy looked after him in wonder that turned to indignation, as he saw +Theo lay a detaining hand on the ragged jacket of Carrots, who was +slouching aimlessly along the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, +and, after a little talk with him, bring him back to the stand. + +"Well now, I like that!" muttered Jimmy under his breath. He glowered +darkly at Carrots as Theo drew him up to the stand, but Theodore +looked into Jimmy's face with a strange light in his eyes, as he +filled a plate for Carrots and poured him out a cup of coffee. + +"Sh'ld think you'd better wait till he'd paid for what he jagged here +that last time," Jimmy muttered, with a scowling glance at the +culprit. + +Carrots, overhearing the remark, grinned, and then winked impudently +at Jimmy, while he disposed with all speed of the contents of the +plate that Theodore had set before him. Once or twice he cast a +puzzled glance at the latter as if trying to discover some hidden +motive. + +"Had 'nough?" Theo questioned, when plate and cup were empty. + +"'Spect I might get outside of one or two o' them doughnuts," Carrots +answered, with another wink at Jimmy's clouded face. + +When the doughnuts also had disappeared, Theo said, "Come along a bit +with me, Carrots," and the two walked off together, leaving Jimmy for +the first time savagely angry with his friend Theodore. + +Carrots slouched along at Theo's side, with his narrow eyes roving +suspiciously from side to side in search of a possible policeman, into +whose hands he suspected that his companion might be scheming to +deliver him. He could not conceive the possibility of anybody's +failing to avenge a wrong if he had the chance. + +"Carrots," began Theodore, "where do you sleep?" + +"Can't catch me that way," thought Carrots to himself, as he answered +carelessly, "Oh anywheres 't I happen ter find myself when I'm +sleepy." + +"No reg'lar place--no home?" questioned Theo. + +"Nope." + +"Well, I've paid rent up to the end of the month for the room I've +been sleepin' in, an' I shan't use it any more. You can sleep there +for nothin' for the next week if you like." + +Carrots stopped short and gazed at his companion with his tongue in +his cheek. + +"Think I'm a fool?" he asked, shortly. + +"I do' know whether ye are or not. 'Seems to me you will be 'f ye say +'no' to my offer," and Theo looked straight into the shifty eyes of +his companion. + +That straightforward look puzzled Carrots. It was more convincing than +any words. He studied Theo's face for a moment, then he burst out, +"What's your game, anyhow, Tode Bryan?" + +"Carrots," exclaimed Theo, earnestly, "there's no game at all about +it. I've got the room, an' I don't need it, 'cause I've taken another +one. You're welcome to use this till the month's up. Now, what d'ye +say? Will ye take it or leave it?" + +"I'll--take--it," rejoined Carrots, slowly. + +"All right." Theo gave him the number, adding, "Come to my room +anytime 'fore ten for the key." + +Then he hurried on, leaving Carrots in a maze of wonder, doubt and +indecision, for he could not yet believe that Theo meant honestly by +him. + +As for Theo, he whistled cheerily as he hastened on, for he felt that +he had been doing a bit of his Captain's business. He was not in the +least deceived. He knew that Carrots was a "bad lot," as he expressed +it, but he said to himself, "I was a bad lot, too, not so very long +ago, an' I'll see if I can't do something for Carrots while I'm +a-huntin' for that Jack Finney." + +Jimmy Hunt was on the lookout for Theodore that evening, and pounced +upon him the moment he appeared. Jimmy's face was still clouded, and +he made no response to his friend's cheery greeting. "I say, Theo," he +began, "I'd like to know what you meant by it, anyhow." + +"What's the trouble, Jimmy? What do you mean?" + +"What _d'you_ mean by luggin' that thievin', sarcy Carrots over +t' the stand this mornin' an' stuffin' him with grub, an' never askin' +him for a red cent?" Jimmy spoke in a deeply aggrieved tone. + +"You won't lose anything by it, Jim. That comes out o' my share of the +profits," Theo answered, quickly. + +"'Tain't that," responded Jimmy, hastily. "I wouldn't 'a' minded if it +had been any other feller but him. Say, Theo, what did make ye do it +anyhow? Think ye might tell me that." + +Theodore looked down into the face lifted to his, half curiously, half +impatiently. "Jimmy," he said, gravely, "wouldn't you be glad if +somebody would lend a hand to Dick and help him make a man of +himself?" + +Jimmy flushed. He was ashamed of his brother and mortified by Dick's +evil reputation. + +"'Course," he answered, shortly, dropping his eyes. + +"Well, Jimmy, I'd help Dick if I could, an' there's another feller +I've been huntin' for ever so long. 'Seem's if I can't find him +anywheres, an' so till I _do_ find him, I'm a-goin' to try to +pull Carrots up 'stead of him." + +"Pull Carrots up!" echoed Jimmy, scornfully. "Tode, you must be soft +if you expect to make anything out o' such a bad lot as Carrots." + +"There's a good spot in most chaps, I b'lieve, Jimmy, an' I guess +there's one in Carrots, if I can only find it. Anyhow, I'm a-goin' to +try for a while." + +"Huh!" growled Jimmy. He said no more, but after this he watched Theo +and Carrots closely, and did a deal of earnest thinking on the +subject. + +Carrots slept in Theodore's room for the next week--slipping softly up +and down the stairs, with furtive, suspicious glances into every dark +corner in the halls at night, and departing in the same fashion before +Theo was up in the morning. He uttered no word of gratitude, but Theo +knew better than to expect anything of that sort. + +One night when he came in, Theodore sat with his door wide open, and +called out pleasantly, + +"Come in a minute, Carrots." + +The boy paused on the threshold until he had satisfied himself that +there was no one else in the room, then he sidled in and dropped +heavily on a chair. + +"Wal', what's wanted?" he inquired, gruffly. + +"Like to earn a little extra money to-morrow?" Theodore began. + +"That depends." + +"Depends on what?" + +"On the kind o' work." + +"Well, I should think you'd be ready for any kind of work," Theodore +remarked, with a quick glance at the ragged garments of the other. + +Carrots grinned, carelessly. "Oh I ain't a swell like you," he +replied, casting, what he meant for a scornful look at the other boy's +clean outing shirt and decent suit. Theodore had reached the point now +where he had at least one clean shirt a week. + +He ignored the remark and went on, "There's plenty of fellers that +would be glad of this job, but I want to give you the first chance at +it. Jimmy Hunt's goin' on an excursion to-morrow, an' can't run the +stand. You can run it if you want to." + +Carrots gazed at him with mouth and eyes wide open. + +"Me?" he exclaimed, incredulously. "You mean't you'll let me run +it--alone--'thout you bossin' the job?" + +Theo nodded. + +Carrots' mouth slowly stretched into a grin of mingled satisfaction +and derision, as he exclaimed, "All right. I'm your man!" + +"Then be ready to go with me at half past six," replied Theo. Then he +added, "Look here--what's your real name? Tain't Carrots I know. If +you'll tell me what 'tis I'll call you by it." + +"Do' want none o' yer callin'! Carrots's good 'nough for me, an' if +I'm suited, other folks needn't ter interfere," growled the boy, with +renewed suspicion. + +"No need to get huffy 'bout it," rejoined Theodore. "It put me up a +peg when folks begun to call me Theodore 'stead of Tode or Toady, an' +so I thought you'd feel the same way. 'Course, if you like to be +Carrots, nobody cares." + +"Humph!" grunted Carrots, and departed without further discussion of +the matter. + +He was waiting in the hall when Theodore opened his door the next +morning and assisted handily enough about carrying the big basket and +arranging the stand. He did not, however, believe that Theo meant to +leave him actually in charge, until he found himself established +behind the neat counter with fifty cents in nickels and pennies in his +pocket, to make change. + +"Wal', I'm blest!" he exclaimed, and then he grinned and chuckled and +slapped his sides with glee, while Theodore went off, thinking to +himself, + +"It's a risk, but I had to give him his chance." + +Many times during that morning he thought of Carrots and wondered how +he was getting on. It was a hot day and an unusually tiresome one for +Theodore, and it was later than usual when he returned to his +room. Before he had closed the door Jimmy Hunt ran across the hall +calling out, + +"Say, Theo, where's the baskets an' things?" + +Theodore's heart sank, but he answered quietly, "Haven't they been +brought back?" + +"No. Who'd you get to run the stand, Theo?" + +"Carrots." + +"Theodore Bryan--you _didn't_!" exclaimed Jimmy, in such a tragic +tone, that Theo almost laughed outright. His amusement was the last +straw to Jimmy. He burst into a storm of scornful blame in the midst +of which Theo quietly stepped into his room and shut the door, leaving +Jimmy to fume and storm as much as he chose. That brought the boy to +himself. He began to cool down and to remember, that after all, the +stand belonged to Theodore, and he had a right to do as he pleased +with it. So after standing in the hall, kicking at the banisters for a +while, to relieve his feelings, Jimmy knocked at the closed door and +in response to Theo's "come in," he went in, in a somewhat calmer +state of mind. + +"What you goin' to do in the mornin', Theo?" he began, in a subdued +tone. + +"Have you been to the stand, Jim?" + +"Yes, an' that scamp after he'd sold all the stuff went to work an' +auctioned off the dishes an' coffee-urn an' everything. Just skinned +the place out slick," Jimmy burst out, indignantly. "I went 'round to +see where the baskets was, an' some fellers told me all about it. They +said 'twas a red-headed chap done it, but I _couldn't_ b'lieve +you'd be green 'nough to trust that Carrots. Say, Theo, did you +re'ely think he'd do the square thing, by you?" + +"Not much. I hoped he would an' I had to give him a chance, Jimmy?" + +"Why'd you have to?" asked Jimmy, curiously. + +"Where would I be now if somebody hadn't given me a chance, Jimmy?" + +"Oh, you--you ain't Carrots. You're another sort." + +"Yes, I'm another sort now, but I was bad as Carrots before I met Nan +an' Little Brother," answered Theo, earnestly. Then he added, "Don't +you worry 'bout the stand. I'll go out presently an' buy what's +wanted." + +"An' ain't ye going to do nothin' ter that Carrots for this, neither?" +inquired Jimmy, anxiously. + +"No, nothing. But, Jimmy, don't fret yourself about him. If he keeps +on as he's been doin', he'll soon find himself locked up." + +"'N' he'd oughter be too," muttered Jimmy, as he went away, leaving +Theodore to think over the failure of his attempt. He was not much +surprised, though he had not expected quite such a clean sweep on +Carrots' part, and the loss was not heavy enough to embarrass him at +all. At Mr. Scott's suggestion, Theo had begun to deposit his extra +earnings in a savings bank and he had enough on hand to easily replace +the dishes and utensils lost, but he was disappointed and +disheartened. It seemed so useless to try to help one who would not +try to help himself. And yet he could not be quite discouraged since +he always remembered what he himself had once been. + +He went out and bought what was needed and when he came back he found +Mr. Scott just turning away from his door. He hastened to unlock it +and the gentleman turned back, saying, + +"I'm glad you came before I had got away, Theodore, for I want to talk +over that boys' club plan with you." + +"I thought you'd forgot all about it," replied the boy, his face +brightening. + +He had spoken to his teacher about this plan, and Mr. Scott had +answered, "Yes, something of the sort may be done, but if I were in +your place I wouldn't be in a hurry about it," and so the matter had +been left. + +Now Mr. Scott looked thoughtfully about the room, saying, "You must +find this far more comfortable than the room you had before. Don't +you sleep better here, Theo?" + +"Oh, yes, I don't feel so tired in the morning." + +"No, because you have the windows here and can have better air; but, +Theo, do you realise how it would be if you should use this for a +club-room? Some of the boys would be here every evening, and you'd +have to have lights burning, and by the time you were ready to go to +bed, the room would be very hot and stuffy--full of bad air. Besides +you would have to be here all the time. You couldn't trust such boys +in your room alone." + +Theodore thought of Carrots, and his face was grave and disturbed as +he answered, slowly, "'Spect you're right, Mr. Scott, but I do hate to +give up the plan." + +"Perhaps we won't give it up, only change it a little. Have you ever +been in the large front room, upstairs?" + +Theodore shook his head, with a look of surprise, that his teacher +should know anything about the rooms upstairs. + +Mr. Scott added, "Well then, suppose you come up with me now, and take +a look at it. I have the key." + +Wondering much, the boy followed his teacher up the stairs to a large +room with two windows on each side. + +"How would this do for your clubroom, Theodore?" Mr. Scott inquired. + +"This? Oh, this would be fine--but Mr. Scott, it would cost a pile +for this." + +"Rather more than for yours, of course, but now this is the way of it, +Theodore. I liked your plan about the club, but I didn't like the idea +of your giving up your own room to it, so I spoke to several gentlemen +of my acquaintance about the matter, and they all wanted to have a +hand in it. So they each gave me a sum of money, and then I +interviewed your landlord and rented this room. He is going to have it +whitewashed, and then we shall have the floor thoroughly scrubbed and +outside blinds put on these sunny windows. Then we shall put in some +tables and chairs and some plain pine shelves for the books and papers +that we are going to collect from our friends, and if you like, some +of us will give the boys a talk on current events once a week or so." + +"What's current events?" interposed Theo, quickly. + +"You'll soon find out. Now then, Theo, we must have somebody to take +charge of this room. Can you do it?" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"You know that means that you must be here every evening in the week, +from half past seven to ten o'clock. You'll want to be away sometimes, +Theodore." + +"Yes, I s'pose I will, but I'm ready to stay here all the same until +night school begins again." + +"Very well, then we'll let it be so, and we'll try to have the room +ready for our opening in a week or two--as soon as we have enough +books and papers to begin with." Mr. Scott locked the door as he +spoke, and the two went downstairs. + +Theodore's face was full of satisfaction over the promised +reading-room, but it clouded a little as his teacher said, + +"You mustn't be disappointed, Theodore, if very few boys spend their +evenings in this room for a while. Most of the boys in this +neighbourhood are so used to loafing about the streets, that they like +that best, especially in hot weather, and, of course, few of them care +much for reading. They will have to be educated up to it." + +"S'pose that's so," replied the boy, thoughtfully, "but they'll like +it next winter when it's cold an' stormy outside," he added. + +"Yes," assented the gentleman, adding, as he turned to depart, "Theo, +Mrs. Rawson will be home to-morrow. Don't you want to come and take +supper with us, and hear what she has to say about Nan, and the little +one?" + +"Oh, yes, thank you, sir," cried Theodore, with a happy smile. + +"All right, then, we shall expect you," and with a pleasant +"Good-night," Mr. Scott went away. + +Theodore rather dreaded the supper with Mrs. Rawson, but he forgot to +be shy or ill at ease when she began to tell him about the delightful +old farmhouse, and the happy times that Nan and the baby were having +there. She told him everything she could think of that would be of +interest to him, and he listened to it all with an eager face, and a +glad heart. If Little Brother must be far away from him, Theodore was +happy in the assurance that the child was in such a beautiful place, +and that already he had begun to grow stronger and brighter. + + + +XV. A STRIKE + + +"No cars a-runnin'! What's up?" exclaimed Jimmy, the next morning, as +he and Theodore passed down Tremont street. + +"There's a strike on. Didn't you hear 'bout it yesterday?" replied +Theo. + +"No. My! But there'll be a time if all the cars stop." + +"A pretty bad time--'specially for the folks that live outside the +city," Theodore answered, soberly. + +When, after taking his breakfast at the stand, he went back through +Tremont street, groups of men and boys were standing about in every +corner, and everywhere the strike was the one topic of conversation. +There were groups of motormen and conductors here and there, some +looking grave and anxious, and some careless and indifferent. + +As the morning advanced the throngs in the streets increased. Belated +business men hurried along, and clerks and saleswomen with flushed +faces and anxious eyes, tried impatiently to force their way through +the crowds to get to their places of business. + +Theodore noticed the large number of rough-looking men and boys on the +streets, and that most of them seemed full of suppressed excitement. +Now and then as he passed some of these, he caught a low-spoken +threat, or an exultant prophecy of lively times to come. It all made +him vaguely uneasy, and he had to force himself to go about his work +instead of lingering outside to see what would happen. + +In one office, while he was busy over the brasses, three gentlemen +were discussing the situation, and the boy, as he rubbed and polished, +listened intently to what was said. + +"What do the fellows want? What's their grievance, anyhow?" inquired +one man, impatiently, as he flicked the ashes from his cigar. + +"Shorter hours and better pay," replied a second. + +"Of course. That's what strikers always want," put in a third. "They +seem to think they're the only ones to be considered." + +"Well, I must confess that I rather sympathise with the men this +time," said the second speaker. "I hold that they ought to have +shorter hours." + +"There are plenty that will be glad enough to take their places, +though." + +"I suppose so, but all the same I maintain that these companies that +are amply able to treat their men better, ought to do so. I believe in +fair play. It pays best in the end to say nothing of the right and +wrong of it." + +"Think the company will give in?" questioned one. + +"Guess not. I hear that the superintendent has telegraphed to New York +and Chicago for men." + +"There'll be trouble if they come!" exclaimed the first speaker. + +"I believe," said another man, joining the group, "I believe that +Sanders is responsible for all this trouble--or the most of it, +anyhow. He's a disagreeable, overbearing fellow who--even when he +grants a favor, which is seldom enough--does it in a mean, +exasperating fashion that takes all the pleasure out of it. I had some +dealings with him once, and I never want anything more to do with +him. If he'd been half-way decent to the men there would never have +been any strike, in my opinion." + +Sanders was the superintendent of the road where the trouble was. + +"You're right about Sanders," said another. "I always have wondered +how he could keep his position. These strikes though, never seem to me +to do any real good to the cause of the strikers, and a great many of +the men realise that too, but these walking delegate fellows get +'round 'em and persuade 'em that a strike is going to end all their +troubles--and so it goes. I saw that little sneak--Tom Steel--buttonholing +the motormen, and cramming them with his lies, as I came along just +now. There's always mischief where Tom Steel is." + +By this time Theodore had finished his work, and he left the office, +his head full of strikes, superintendents, and walking delegates, and +wherever he went that day, the strike was the only subject discussed. + +He stopped work earlier than usual, finding himself infected with the +prevailing unrest and excitement. He found the sidewalks of the +principal business streets thronged with men, women and boys, all +pressing in one direction. + +"Come along, Tode!" cried a shrill voice at his elbow, and he turned +to find Jimmy Hunt, his round face all alight with anticipation of +exciting episodes to follow. Jimmy began talking rapidly. + +"They've been smashin' cars, Tode, an' haulin' off the motormen an' +conductors that want to keep on workin'. There's three cars all +smashed up near the sheds, an' the strikers say they'll wreck every +one that's run out to-day." + +"It's a shame!" declared Theo, indignantly; yet boy-like, if there was +to be a mob fight, he wanted to be on hand and see it all, and he took +care not to let Jimmy get far ahead of him. + +As they went on, the crowd continually increased until it became so +dense that the boys had to worm their way through it inch by inch. +They pressed on, however, and when further progress was impossible, +they found standing room on the very front close to the car-track. + +It had been a noisy, blustering crowd as it surged along the street, +but now that it had come to a standstill, a sudden breathless silence +fell upon it, and all eyes turned in one direction, gazing eagerly, +intently up the track. Suddenly, a low, hoarse cry broke from a +hundred throats. + +"It's comin'! It's comin'!" and far up the street a car appeared. + +The faces of the men grew more hard and determined. Those of the +women became pale and terrified. The two boys peered eagerly forward, +their hearts beating quickly, with dread mingled with a sort of wild +excitement. + +"Look, Theo--Look!" whispered Jimmy, pointing to some men who were +hastily digging up cobble-stones from the street. "There's Carrots, +too," he added. + +"Wonder who that little chap is--the one that seems to have so much to +say to the car men," Theo replied, thoughtfully. + +"That's Tom Steel. You've heard of him, hain't ye?" A man at Theo's +elbow was speaking. "He's responsible for this strike, I think, an' I +hope he'll get his pay for it too," he added, grimly. + +Theodore glanced up into the grave face of the speaker and recognised +him as a motorman. Evidently, he was more bitter against the strikers +than against the company. + +The car was now close at hand, and all at once as with a single +impulse, there was a surging forward, and the crowd closed in blocking +the track with a solid mass of human beings. The motorman set his +teeth hard, and rang the gong loudly, insistently. The conductor +hastened through the car and stood beside him. The only passenger was +a policeman, who stood on the rear platform calmly gazing at the sea +of angry, excited faces on either side. + +"This car's got to stop!" shouted a big, brawny fellow, springing onto +the step and giving the motorman a threatening glance. + +"This car ain't a-goin' to stop!" retorted the motorman, grimly, as he +released the brake. + +"We'll see about that," and with the words the big fellow seized the +man's arms and wrenched his hand off the lever. + +The conductor sprang to the assistance of his comrade while the +policeman ran forward and pushed the man roughly off the car. + +In the same instant, Theo saw Carrots snatch a box from a bootblack +near him and with a wild yell of defiance, hurl it through one of the +car windows. The shrill, taunting cry of the boy, mingled with the +crash of the breaking glass, and the sight of the policeman's upraised +club, aroused the mob to sudden fury. At once there arose a wild +hubbub of shouts, yells and cries, followed by a shower of +cobble-stones, and a fierce rush upon the three men on the car, and in +two minutes the car was a shattered wreck; the motorman and conductor +were being hustled through the crowd with threats and warnings, while +the policeman's club had been wrenched from his grasp. He drew his +pistol, but with a howl of fury it was knocked from his hand, and the +next moment he lay senseless upon the ground, felled by a savage blow +from his own club. + +The taste of conflict, the sight of blood, had roused to a fierce +flame the smouldering spirit of lawlessness and insurrection in the +mob. A savage rage seemed to have taken possession of the men as, with +frantic haste and mad delight, they tore up cobble-stones and built a +huge barricade across the track. When it was completed, Carrots darted +up on top of it and waved a red handkerchief above his head. A hoarse +roar of approval broke from the mob, but Steel sternly ordered the boy +down and hissed in his ear, + +"You fool! You might have spoiled everything by that! Don't ye show +that again till I give the signal--d'ye hear?" + +Carrots nodded with an evil gleam in his narrow eyes, that made Theo +shiver. + +"Come on, now. We've done enough for once," Steel added, and keeping +his hand on the arm of the boy the two disappeared in the throng that +was slowly melting away. + +Then, with a long breath, Jimmy turned to Theodore. + +"My!" he exclaimed, in a tone of shuddering satisfaction. "It's awful, +ain't it, Theo! S'pose he's dead?" He gazed with half fearful interest +toward the policeman who had been clubbed and about whom a group had +gathered. + +"Looks like it. There comes some more p'lice. They'll take care of +him. Come on, Jimmy, le's go home." + +"Oh, no, Theo, don't go home, yet. Le's go an' see what's goin' on +over there," and Jimmy turned into a cross street through which the +greater portion of the crowd was pressing. + +"There's something the matter over at the depot," said Theodore, as he +followed, half willingly and half reluctantly, in Jimmy's eager +footsteps. + +About the depot there was usually a constant stream of cars coming and +going, but to-day the streets looked bare and deserted. + +When the boys reached the square only two cars were in sight and these +two were approaching, one behind the other, on the same track. As they +drew near, they were seen to contain each six or eight policemen, +fully armed and with stern, resolute faces. The mob again howled and +hooted at the motormen and conductors, and showered them with dirt and +small stones, but made no attempt to stop the cars. + +No cars were run after dark that evening, and the next day they were +run only at intervals of an hour and each one carried a heavily armed +guard. The strikers and their lawless sympathisers continued to throng +the streets and to threaten all car-men who remained on duty. Now and +then a car window was broken or an obstruction placed on the tracks, +but there was no serious outbreak, and it was rumoured that a +compromise between the company and the strikers was under +consideration and that the trouble would soon be at an end. + +So a week slipped away. One morning Theodore was on his way from one +office to another when he heard the sound of drum and fife and saw a +body of the strikers marching up Washington street. Every boy within +sight or hearing at once turned in after the procession, and Theodore +followed with the rest. + +It was about ten o'clock in the morning and the streets were full of +shoppers, many of them ladies who had been afraid to venture out +during the past week. + +As if they had risen out of the ground, scores of rough-looking men +and street boys began to push and jostle the shoppers on the narrow +sidewalks until many of the frightened women took refuge in the +stores, and the shopkeepers, fearful of what might follow, began +hastily putting up their shutters and making ready to close their +stores, if necessary. These signs of apprehension gave great delight +to the rougher element in the streets, and they yelled and hooted +uproariously at the cautious shopkeepers, but they did not +stop. Steadily, swiftly they followed that body of men marching with +dark, determined faces to the sound of the fife and the drum. + +"Where are they going?" Theo asked of a man at his side and the reply +was, + +"To the car-house, I reckon. They're ripe for mischief now." + +"What's stirred 'em up again--anything new?" the boy questioned. + +"Many of the strikers have been discharged and new men brought +on--five hundred of them--from New York and Chicago. I'm afraid we +haven't seen the worst of the troubles yet." + +"Look! Look!" cried a boy, close beside Theodore, and the latter +looking ahead, saw a squad of mounted officers coming through a cross +street. Without stopping to parley they charged into the marching +strikers and dispersed them, silencing the fife and drum, and when the +furious mob of followers and sympathisers yelled threats and defiance +at the officers, the latter charged into the mob riding up to the +pavement and forcing the people back into the stores and dwellings +behind them. + +This was as fuel to the fire of anger and insurrection. Deep and dire +threats passed from lip to lip, and evil purpose hardened into grim +determination as the mob slowly surged in the direction of the +car-house, after the officers had passed on. The throng was far more +quiet now, and far more dangerous. Again and again, Theodore caught +glimpses of Tom Steel's insignificant face, and like a long, dark +shadow, Carrots followed ever at his heels. + +No cars were running now, but the boy heard low-spoken references to +new men and "scabs," and "the will of the people," as, almost without +effort of his own, he was borne onward with the throng. + +At a little distance from the car-house the strikers again drew +together and stood mostly in gloomy silence, their eyes ever turning +toward the closed doors of the great building before them. The vast +crowd waited, too, in a silence that seemed to throb and pulse with +intense and bitter feeling. The strikers had stopped in the middle of +the street, and around them on every side, except toward the +car-house, the crowd pressed and surged like a vast human sea. There +were not many women in the number gathered there, and the few who were +there were of the lowest sort, but men and boys--largely tramps, +roughs and street boys--were there in countless numbers, mingled with +not a few of the better class. + +Slowly the minutes passed, until an hour had gone by, and it began to +be whispered about that the company dared not run any cars. Still the +men waited, and the crowd waited too. But at last some grew weary of +inaction, and when Steel proposed that they spend the time barricading +the tracks, his suggestion met with a quick response. + +From a neighbouring street the men brought Belgian blocks and piled +them on the track. They pulled down tree boxes and broke off branches +of trees, and when an ice wagon came along they took possession of the +huge blocks of ice and capped their barricade with these. + +Suddenly the doors of the car-house were thrown open, and a car rolled +slowly out. + +There was an instant of breathless silence, followed by a roar like +that of a thousand savage beasts, as the strikers saw that new men +were running the car, and that it carried half a score of policemen, +armed to the teeth. + +As it approached the barricade some of the officers sprang off and +began to throw down the obstructions, the others standing ready to +fire upon the mob if necessary. The crowd showered bitter words and +taunts upon the officers, but did not venture to molest them. The +motorman stood with his hand on the lever, ready to start the car the +moment the track should be clear. Carrots, with a pack of street Arabs +at his heels, jeered at the new motorman, climbing up on the car and +taunting him, until, at last, his patience was exhausted, and he +suddenly lifted his foot and kicked one of the boys off the car. The +boy fell heavily to the ground, and instantly the shrill voice of +Carrots was uplifted, crying frantically, + +"He's killed Billy Green! He's killed Billy Green! Pitch in to him, +boys! Pitch into him!" + +Billy Green was already picking himself up, with no worse injury than +a cut in his cheek, but the mob took up the cry, and, + +"Pitch into him! Pitch into him! Kill him! Kill him!" was shouted by +hundreds of savage voices as the crowd pressed about the car. They +tried to drag the motorman off, in spite of the guards, they smashed +the car windows, they tore out the cushions, they beat the policemen, +and wrenched their clubs out of their hands. Finally several of the +officers drew their pistols and fired into the air. + +At this the crowd fell back for a second, and the turmoil of shouts +and cries that had been deafening a moment before, died away in sudden +silence--a threatening, dangerous silence as of a wild beast about to +spring. + +Into this instant of silence broke a new cry from the outskirts of the +crowd. + +"It's the mayor. Make way for the mayor!" + +"No, it's the bishop. Make way for the bishop! Stand back! Stand +back!" + +At this cry, Theodore turned like a flash and gazed in the direction +in which all eyes were turning. There was no mistake. The bishop was +surely one of the occupants of a carriage that was slowly forcing its +way through the throng. + +With his heart beating with a wild joy; his eyes glowing; the colour +coming and going in his cheeks, Theodore stood still until the +carriage stopped. Then sliding through the smallest spaces, darting +between feet, this way and that, the boy managed somehow to reach the +side of the carriage, where he stood with his hand on one of the +wheels, his eager, burning gaze fastened on the face he loved so +well. Instinctively he pulled off his cap, but he made no attempt to +attract the attention of the bishop. He uttered no word or sound. He +only stood with all his loving heart in his eyes, and looked. + +The bishop's expression was very grave, as he gazed over that vast sea +of faces. He turned to speak to the gentleman who sat beside him, and +as he did so, his eyes fell on Theodore's eloquent upturned +countenance. A quick, bright smile flashed across his face, and +reaching down, he laid his hand for a moment gently upon the boy's +bared head. + +Before he could speak the silence was again broken by a cry from many +lips--a cry of warning now, rather than a threat, though again the +words were, + +"Stop the car! Stop the car! The bishop! The bishop!" + +The bishop's carriage had come to a standstill directly across the +track, the crowd being here so dense that it was impossible for the +driver to go even a yard farther. + +The policemen had cleared the barricade from the track, and then +sprung hastily on the car again. Evidently they had not noticed the +dangerous position of the carriage, and now the motorman started the +car forward. The man was a stranger in the city. He knew nothing about +the bishop--cared nothing about him. He was there to run that car, and +he meant to do it or die in the attempt, so when the crowd shouted, + +"The bishop! The bishop!" he yelled in reply, + +"Get out of the way then if you don't want him hurt. This car's +a-going through, bishop or no bishop!" + +The car was already in motion. The crowd pushed and struggled and +tried to fall back and let the carriage pass over the track, but it +was impossible, so closely were the people packed together there. + +[Illustration: "Stop the car!"] + +On the car came, while for an instant the crowd waited with tense +breath for what should follow. + +"Loyal unto death." The words rang through Theodore's brain, as in +that instant he sprang swiftly forward and flung himself across the +track directly in front of the slowly moving car. A cry of horror +broke from the throng and a score of hands were stretched forth to +draw the boy from his dangerous position, but he clung to the fender +and would not be removed. + +"Stop the car!" he pleaded. "Oh stop the car or the bishop will be +killed!" + +Never a thought of his own danger had the boy,--for he would have +given his young life freely and joyfully for his bishop, but the +sacrifice was not needed. The police, now seeing the danger, forced +the furious motorman to stop the car until the crowd had had time to +fall back and the carriage had safely crossed the track. Then the car +passed on followed by threatening glances and menacing words from the +angry throng. + +But now the bishop arose in the carriage, and as he stood in the +majesty of his great height with the light of a pure heart and a holy +life illumining his face--once again a hush fell upon that vast +gathering, and when the rich voice rolled out upon the still air, +uttering its message of heavenly love, and strong, sweet counsels of +peace and justice, the hearts of the people were melted within +them. Hard, brutal men and rude street boys listened, feeling a +strange power that they could not understand, thrilling their souls, +and compelling them, in spite of their own wills, to follow the +counsels of this servant of God. + +No other man in that great city was honoured and loved by rich and +poor alike, as was the bishop. To no other would such a crowd in such +a mood have hearkened, but they stood in silence and listened +breathlessly as if they feared to lose a single word. They listened as +if they knew that never again would such a message come to them from +those lips. Stern, bitter faces softened, and hard eyes dimmed with +tears as the burning, melting words fell on the listening ears. Women +wept, and men forgot their hatreds and their grievances. Only here and +there an evil face grew more evil as the bishop's words worked upon +the hearts and consciences of that vast throng. + +Tom Steel dropped his mask of careless indifference, as he tried to +stem the tide by whispering sneers and taunts to one and another, but +they would have none of his counsels now, and after a while he slunk +away with a black scowl on his face and evil words on his lips, and +still beside him slouched the gaunt, ragged figure with its crown of +rough red hair; and no one bade them stay; no one listened to their +wicked whispers, for the bishop's words were filling every ear and +every heart. + +At last, the bishop stretched forth his hands and pronounced a tender +blessing upon them all, and then he drove slowly away, and when he was +gone rough men looked into each other's faces, half wondering, half +ashamed, as they moved away. They had no desire now for rioting and +lawlessness--for deeds of blood and violence. The Spirit of God had +touched their hearts. The atmosphere in which the bishop lived and +moved and had his being had for the time enveloped even these. No +wonder then, that it had wrought such a transformation in the heart +and life of one little street boy. + +That same night two hundred of the city clergymen united in an appeal +to the company to submit the troubles to arbitration, and to this both +the company and the strikers agreed. The result was that although all +that the men asked was not granted, yet their hours were shortened, +and an increase of pay promised at the beginning of the year. + + + +XVI. CALLED TO GO UP HIGHER + + +As for Theodore--when the bishop's carriage had driven away he went +home in a state of joyous expectation. He thought how he would go, on +the morrow, to the bishop's house, and of the long talk they two would +have together, when he would tell his friend all that he had so often +longed to tell him. He knew well how interested the bishop would be in +all that he--Theodore--was trying to do for the Great Captain, and he +longed to talk over his work and his plans with one so wise and so +experienced. + +On his way home he stopped and bought some linen collars and cuffs and +a neat necktie. + +"'Cause I want to look as well's I can when he sees me," he said to +himself. + +All that evening he thought of that visit which he would make the next +day. He realty _could_ not wait any longer, but he found it hard +to decide what would be the best hour for him to go. He knew that the +bishop was very often away in the evening, or if at home he was almost +sure to have guests with him. In the afternoon, too, he seldom had a +leisure moment. Indeed he never had any leisure moments, but Theodore +decided at last that the best time to see him would be between twelve +and one o'clock. + +All night, in his dreams, he saw himself making his way to the house +and once he awoke in great distress, imagining that Brown had sternly +refused him admittance. + +He could not work that next morning, but he wanted somebody else to +share his happiness, and so to all the sick and shut-in ones in the +two houses, he carried some little gift. It was his thank-offering, +though he did not know it. Small gifts they were, all--a flower to +one, a newspaper to another, some oranges to a sick woman, an extra +loaf to a hard-working mother--little things all, but given in the +name of the Great Captain though His Name was not once mentioned. + +So, many kindly thoughts followed the boy when, at noon, he went once +more through the streets toward the bishop's house. + +Theodore's face had little of beauty, but the glance of his grey eyes +was honest and true. He was able now to possess two suits and he wore +his best one with the clean linen and the new tie. Many a mother might +have been proud that day to call this boy of the streets, her son. + +The remembrance of his dreams sent a shiver over Theodore as he rang +the bell at the bishop's door, but Brown did not refuse him +admittance. On the contrary he smiled faintly and held open the door +as he said, in a low tone, "Come to Mrs. Martin's room," and once +again Theodore followed him across the wide hall. + +Mrs. Martin gave him a cordial welcome, but a great dread fell upon +the boy as he noted her red eyes and subdued manner, and when she +said, + +"He talked about you last evening, Theodore, and told us what you did +for him. You've come to ask how he is, haven't you?" the boy's heart +sank and he dropped into the nearest chair with his eyes fixed +entreatingly on the housekeeper's face. His throat felt dry and stiff, +and he dared not trust himself to speak. Mrs. Martin too, sat down and +wiped her eyes as she went on, + +"He ought not to have gone out to speak to those strikers +yesterday. He wasn't well enough, and I told the gentlemen so when +they came for him, but as soon as he heard what they wanted he said he +would go. He came home all tired out, and he was taken sick in the +night." + +Theodore tried in vain to frame a question with his trembling +lips. The housekeeper guessed what he would have asked and answered as +if he had spoken. + +"It's some heart trouble and the doctors say he cannot live." + +At these words, Theodore's head went down on the table and he sat as +if stunned. His trouble seemed to him too great even for belief. Eight +months before it had seemed terrible to him to know that the width of +the continent separated him from his friend. Now, what a joy it would +have been to him to know that the bishop was alive and well in +California. + +At last he lifted his head and asked in a low voice, + +"How long?" + +Mrs. Martin understood. She answered, sadly, "A few days--possibly +only a few hours. He lies as if he were asleep, but it is not sleep. I +think," she added, with a glance at the boy's heart-broken face, "I +think you can see him for a moment if you would like to." + +Theodore nodded and the housekeeper added, "Come then," and led the +way to an upper room. + +The boy followed with such an aching heart as he had never imagined +that a boy could have. + +The sick room was darkened and a nurse sat by the bedside. Theodore +stood for a moment looking down on the face so dear to him, and so +changed even in the few hours since last he saw it. He longed to press +his lips to the hand that lay outstretched on the white coverlet, but +he did not dare, and after a moment he turned and left the room in +silence. + +Mrs. Martin followed him down the stairs. At the door he stopped and +looked at her, tried to speak but could not, and so went away without +a word. He knew that never again should he see his friend alive, and +he did not. Before the next night, the bishop had been called to go up +higher. + +When the announcement of his death appeared in the papers there was a +request that no flowers be sent. Theodore did not notice this item, +and so on the day of the funeral he carried to the house some of the +roses that he knew the bishop had loved most, and Mrs. Martin herself +placed them in the cold hand that a few days before, had been laid +upon Theodore's head. All the gold of the earth, had it been offered +to the boy, could not have purchased from him the sweet memory of that +last look and touch. + +On the day of the funeral, the church where the service was held was +crowded, and the streets without were filled with a throng as vast as +that to which so short a time before, the bishop had spoken, but what +a difference was there in look and manner between the two great +gatherings! Here, every face was softened, every heart tender with +grief. They called him "our bishop," and they felt that they had lost +one who loved them--one who was indeed their friend. + +But not one, whether within or without the church, not one grieved +more deeply for the grand, beautiful life so suddenly cut off than did +the lad who stood without and listened to the solemn tones of the +great organ, and watched with eyes dim with tears as the black-draped +coffin was borne out to its burial. The boy stood there until the last +of the long line of carriages had passed him; then he stepped forward +and, alone and on foot, he followed to the cemetery. + +When all was over, he went sorrowfully homeward, feeling as if there +was a great blank in his life--a blank that could never be filled; +that the world could never again seem bright to him; but that evening +Mr. Scott came, and his affectionate sympathy comforted the boy's sore +heart. His teacher made him feel that now, more than ever, he must be +"the bishop's shadow." To Theodore, his small ministries to the +forlorn and suffering ones about him, seemed, indeed, as nothing when +he recalled the wide-reaching labours of the bishop, but as the days +went on these small ministries grew to be the joy of his life. + +Mr. Scott, watching him closely, saw how week by week he became more +unselfish and thoughtful for others; more eager to help any who needed +his help. It was a grief to the boy that one whom he most longed to +help seemed for a time beyond his reach, and this was Carrots. + +Four of the ringleaders in the riotous proceedings of the strike had +been arrested, tried and sentenced to two years in the penitentiary. +Of this number were Tom Steel, and Carrots, whose red banner had more +than once caught the eye of the police. + +Jimmy Hunt openly rejoiced, feeling that Carrots had got his deserts +at last, but Theodore was troubled and disheartened over the +matter. He went to see the boy in prison, and found him as gruff and +surly as ever, yet he was sure that, when he came away, the eyes of +Carrots followed him wistfully. He did not go again to the prison but, +though he was no more fond of letter-writing than are most boys of +fourteen, yet, during those two years of Carrots' imprisonment, never +a month passed in which he did not receive a long, cheery letter from +Theodore. He never replied to any of these letters, but as Theodore +expected no replies, that made no difference. + + + +XVII. FINAL GLIMPSES + + +As the evenings lengthened, the club grew in favour among the boys of +the neighbourhood, and often Mr. Scott wondered to see how Theodore +succeeded in maintaining good order and in keeping up the interest of +the boys, without setting them against him. He was full of ingenious +ideas for interesting them in something helpful, and, as he expressed +it, "lifting 'em up a peg." He grew to be exceedingly popular in the +neighbourhood that winter, but he never discovered the fact. He was +too busy thinking of and for others, to think much about himself. + +After a while he gave up all interest in his stand to Jimmy Hunt and +devoted himself wholly to his brass-polishing business. It outgrew his +own time and strength before the New Year, and then he hired boys to +work for him, and he spent his time superintending their work and +extending his list of employers. He paid the boys as liberally as he +could, but he would tolerate no loafing or careless work, so that at +first he had some trouble in getting satisfactory assistants, but once +secured, they seldom left his employ. The time came when he had a +long list of such employees, and when a large part of the brass work +in the city was under his care--but this was later. + +Nan and Little Brother did not come back to the city in the +fall. Mr. Scott had never intended that they should if he could +prevent it. + +Long before the summer was over, Nan had taken a daughter's place in +Mrs. Hyde's childless home and Little Brother had become the cherished +pet of the household. So warm and deep was the love given to them both +that even Nan's sensitive pride could not object to remaining there +where she knew that she could give as much as she received in love and +service, and with a glad and grateful heart she abandoned all thought +of returning to the city, and knew that she had at last found a real +home. + +But she did not forget her older friend, Theodore, and she told her +new friends so much about him that they desired to see and know him +also. So it came about that one of her letters to him contained a +cordial invitation from Mrs. Hyde for him to spend Thanksgiving week +at her home. + +Mr. Scott gladly agreed to attend to the club-room and to keep an eye +on the polishing business as far as he could, so Theodore accepted the +invitation and began to look forward with delight to seeing Little +Brother and Nan again. + +He could hardly realise that it was he himself--poor Theodore +Bryan--who, one bright November morning, sat in the swift-flying car +and looked out on the autumn landscape on his way to spend +Thanksgiving as Mrs. Hyde's guest, and to see again the two whom he +loved to call his "folks." + +[Illustration: Thanksgiving reunion.] + +As the train drew near the station at which he was to stop, Theo +wondered who would meet him. He hoped Nan would. Indeed, he felt sure +that she would, for, of course, Mrs. Hyde would not know him any more +than he would know her. + +So, as the cars ran along by the platform, he gazed eagerly out of the +car window, and he felt a little chill of disappointment because Nan +was nowhere in sight. There was a comfortable carriage in waiting for +somebody. He thought that it might be Mrs. Hyde's--but no, that could +not be, either, for a big, rosy-cheeked laddie, with mischievous blue +eyes, sat on the seat, flourishing a whip in true boyish fashion. That +didn't look much like heavy-eyed, white-lipped Little Brother, and +there was not a girl anywhere in sight, except a tall, handsome one in +a beautiful grey suit, trimmed with fur. This girl stood near the +carriage and seemed to be watching for some one. + +"I do wish Nan had come to meet me," Theo thought, as he stepped off +the train, and then the tall girl in the grey suit was looking eagerly +into his face, with both hands outstretched, crying, + +"Oh, Theo! How glad I am to see you!" and he was seated in the +carriage with that rosy-cheeked, merry-faced little laddie, between +him and Nan, before he fairly realised that this was Little Brother, +grown well and strong, as even Nan had not dared hope he would do in +so few months. + +And he had not forgotten his old friend either--Little Brother had +not,--or, if he had, he renewed the friendship very speedily, and +during Theo's stay the two were as inseparable as of old. + +It was a happy week for Nan, for she could see how Theodore had been +growing in the best ways during the months of their separation, and +she was not a bit disappointed in him, but proud to have her new +friends know him. And, as for the boy, it was a glimpse into a new +life for him--that week in a lovely Christian home. He made up his +mind that, sometime, he would have just such a home of his own, and he +went back to the city well content to leave these two in such tender +hands and amid such delightful surroundings. + +Through all the winter that followed, Theodore was busy and +happy. When the night-school began, he coaxed Mr. Hunt to take charge +of the clubroom, for Theodore wanted to learn and fit himself for +better work by and by, and with such a purpose he made rapid progress +in his studies. + +But, busy as he was, he still found time for his Saturday evening work +for the florist, that he might continue his Sunday flower mission, for +he knew that those few blossoms were all of brightness and beauty that +ever entered into some of those shut-in, poverty-pinched lives about +him. + +Then, at Christmas time, Mr. Scott and Mrs. Rawson and the King's +Daughters Circle helped him prepare a Christmas tree in the clubroom; +a tree that bore a gift for every child and woman in the two +houses. The children almost went wild over that, the first Christmas +tree that many of them had ever seen; and then the eleven girls in +their pretty winter dresses served all the company with cake and +cream. + +Theodore was too happy and busy to eat his share, but that was all +right, for Teddy Hunt had no trouble at all in disposing of two +portions. + +When the last candle had ceased to glimmer among the green branches, +and the last bit of cake and spoonful of cream had disappeared, the +company slowly and lingeringly departed, already looking forward to +just such another Christmas three hundred and sixty-five days +later. Then with many a "Merry Christmas" to Theodore, the girls and +Mrs. Rawson took their departure, and Mr. Scott followed them, only +stopping a moment, to say, + +"We left your Christmas gift in your room, my boy. I hope you will +like it." + +Wondering what his gift might be, the boy put out the lights and +locked the clubroom door and hurried down to his room, remembering +then that his teacher had asked for his key earlier in the evening. + +The key was in the door now, and there was a light in the +room. Theodore pushed open the door and then stopped short with a cry +of delighted surprise, for he never would have recognised this as the +bare little room he had left. + +A neat rug covered the floor, fresh shades hung at the windows; a +white iron bedstead with fluffy mattress and fresh white bedding stood +where the old bedstead had been, and in place of the pine table and +chairs were a neat oak bureau, and a washstand with toilet set and +towels, three good, comfortable chairs and a desk that made Theo's +eyes shine with delight. But best of all was a picture that hung on +the wall facing the door--a picture of the bishop with that tender +look in the eyes that the boy remembered so well. + +On a card, slipped in the corner of the frame, was written, + +"From Nan and Little Brother," and Theodore, as he looked and looked, +felt that there was nothing left for him to desire. + +He was still standing in the middle of the floor, gazing at the +picture, when there was a knock at the door and as he opened it in +flocked the eleven girls with Mrs. Rawson and Mr. Scott behind them. + +"Do you like it, Theodore?" + +"We _couldn't_ go home till we saw you here," they exclaimed, and +laughed and chattered joyously when they saw that the boy was too +pleased and delighted for any words, and then they went away with +their own hearts full of the joy of giving, to write a circular letter +to Nan telling her all about it. + +After this the winter passed quietly to Theodore. He was well and +strong, and he was busy day and evening, and he was as happy a boy as +could be found in all that city. + +And the weeks and months slipped away until two years had gone by, and +it was time for Carrots to be released. + +Theodore ascertained the day and hour when he would leave the +penitentiary and met him at the very gate with a warm and friendly +greeting, and took him at once to his own room. + +He searched the pale face of the boy, wondering whether there really +was in it a change for the better, or not. It seemed to him less +sullen and more thoughtful than it had been two years before, but he +was not sure. Certainly, Carrots was very quiet. It seemed almost as +if he had forgotten how to talk. He looked about Theo's neat, +comfortable room, evidently noting the changes there, but he made no +comment. + +Theodore had set out a table with a good supper for the two, and +Carrots ate as if he enjoyed the food. When the meal was ended, he +leaned back in his chair, and as he looked straight into Theodore's +eyes, said slowly, + +"What made ye do it, Tode?" + +"Do what--bring you here to supper?" + +"Yes, an' write all them letters to me, an'--an' everything?" + +"Why, Carrots, it's this way. I served another fellow an' awful mean +trick once, and I've been trying mighty hard to find him, and make it +up to him, but I haven't found him yet, and so I've tried to do a +little for you instead of him--don't you see?" + +Carrots nodded, and Theo fancied that he looked a little disappointed. + +"Then 'twasn't really me you wanted to help?" he said, gravely. + +"Yes, 'twas, too," answered Theo, quickly. "I'd have done what I +could for you, anyhow, Carrots, but I do _wish_ I could find +him," he added, sorrowfully. + +"What's his name?" inquired Carrots. + +"Jack Finney." + +"What?" exclaimed the boy, staring at Theodore as if he could not +believe his ears. + +"Jack Finney," repeated Theo, wonderingly. + +"Well, I never! Tode--_I'm_ Jack Finney." + +"You?" cried Theodore, starting up excitedly. "You Mrs. Russell's +Jack Finney?" + +The boy nodded again. "I guess so. I was in her class in the mission +school." + +Theo's face was all alight as he exclaimed, "Oh, Carrots--no, Jack, +I'll never call you Carrots again--Jack, I'm too glad for anything! +And now look here, Jack Finney, you've _got_ to be the right kind +of a chap from this on. I won't let you go wrong. I _can't_ let +you go wrong, Jack. It--it seems as if it'll be all my fault if you +do." + +And Jack, looking again straight into Theodore's eyes, answered +slowly, "I guess I've had 'bout enough o' crooked doin's. If you'll +stand by me, I'll make a try on the other line, anyhow." + +"I'll stand by you every time, Jack," cried Theodore, earnestly. + +And he did, through months of alternate hope and discouragement, for +Jack did not find the upward road an easy one. There were the bad +habits of years always pulling him down, and there were old companions +in evil ever ready to coax him back to their company, and more than +once they succeeded for a while; but Theodore would not give him up, +and in the end, the boy had his reward, for Jack Finney became his +fellow-soldier under the Great Captain, and his faithful helper in his +loving ministry among Christ's little ones. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bishop's Shadow, by I. T. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Bishop's Shadow + +Author: I. T. Thurston + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8413] +[This file was first posted on July 8, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE BISHOP'S SHADOW *** + + + + +Produced by Dave Maddock and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE BISHOP'S SHADOW + +BY + +I.T. THURSTON + +_Author of "Boys of the Central," "A Genuine Lady" etc._ + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY M. ECKERSON + + + + + + + +"This learned I from the shadow of a tree +That to and fro did sway upon a wall, +Our shadow selves--our influence--may fall +Where we can never be." + + + +CONTENTS + + I. LOST--A POCKETBOOK + + II. NAN'S NEW HOME + + III. AN ACCIDENT + + IV. TODE MEETS THE BISHOP + + V. IN THE BISHOP'S HOUSE + + VI. TODE'S NEW START + + VII. AFTER TODE'S DEPARTURE + +VIII. THEO'S SHADOW WORK + + IX. THEO IN TROUBLE + + X. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT + + XI. THEO'S NEW BUSINESS + + XII. NAN FINDS FRIENDS + +XIII. NAN'S DEPARTURE + + XIV. THEODORE GIVES CARROTS A CHANCE + + XV. A STRIKE + + XVI. CALLED TO GO UP HIGHER + +XVII. FINAL GLIMPSES + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + THEODORE BRYAN, SIGN-POLISHER + + "HE'S AWAKIN' UP, I GUESS" + + ADRIFT AGAIN + + "OH, HOW PRETTY,--HOW PRETTY IT IS!" + + "STOP THE CAR!" + + THANKSGIVING REUNION + + + + +THE BISHOP'S SHADOW + + +[Illustration: Theodore Bryan, Sign-Polisher] + + + +I. LOST--A POCKETBOOK + + +It was about ten o'clock in the morning and a northeast storm was +raging in Boston. + +The narrow crooked business streets were slippery with mud and +thronged with drays and wagons of every description, which, with the +continual passing of the street cars, made it a difficult and often a +dangerous matter to attempt a crossing. + +The rain came in sudden driving sheets, blotting out all but the +nearest cars or vehicles, while the wind seemed to lie in wait at +every corner ready to spring forth and wrest umbrellas out of the +hands of pedestrians at the most critical points in the crossings. + +Two ladies coming along Causeway street by the Union Depot, waited +some minutes on the sidewalk watching for an opening in the endless +stream of passing teams. + +"There! We shan't have a better chance than this. Come on now," one of +them exclaimed, stepping quickly forward as there came a little break +in the moving line. She stepped in front of two cars that had stopped +on parallel tracks and her companion hastily followed her. Just then +there came a fierce gust that threatened to turn their umbrellas +inside out. The lady in front clutched hers nervously and hurried +forward. As she ran past the second car she found herself almost under +the feet of a pair of horses attached to a heavy wagon. The driver +yelled angrily at her as he hastily pulled up his team; a policeman +shouted warningly and sprang toward her, and her friend stopped short +with a low cry of terror. But though the pole of the wagon grazed her +cheek and the shock threw her almost to the ground, the lady recovered +herself and hurried across to the sidewalk. + +It was then that a little ragged fellow of perhaps thirteen, slipped +swiftly under the very feet of the horses, and, unheeding the savage +shouts of the driver, wormed his way rapidly through the crowd and +vanished. As he did so, the lady who had so narrowly escaped injury, +turned to her friend and cried, + +"Oh my pocketbook! I must have dropped it on the crossing." + +"On the crossing, did you say?" questioned the policeman, and as she +assented, he turned hastily back to the street, but the cars and teams +had passed on and others were surging forward and no trace of the +pocketbook was visible. The policeman came back and questioned the +lady about it, promising to do what he could to recover it. + +"But it's not probable you'll ever see a penny of the money again," he +said. "Some rascally thief most likely saw ye drop it an' snatched it +up." + +The policeman was not mistaken. If he had turned through Tremont and +Boylston streets he might have seen a ragged, barefooted boy +sauntering along with his hands in his pockets, stopping now and then +to look into a shop window, yet ever keeping a keenly watchful eye on +every policeman he met. The boy looked as if he had not a penny in +those ragged pockets of his, but one of his grimy hands clutched +tightly the lost pocketbook, which his sharp eyes had seen as it fell +beneath the feet of the horses, and which he had deftly appropriated +as he wriggled through the mud. + +Heedless of wind and rain the boy lounged along the street. It was not +often that he found himself in this section of the city, and it was +much less familiar to him than some other localities. He seemed to be +wandering aimlessly along, but his restless eyes were on the watch for +some retired spot where he might safely examine his prize and see how +much money he had secured. For a long time he saw no place that seemed +to him a safe one for his purpose, so he went on and on until suddenly +he realised that he was tired. He was passing a large brownstone +church at the moment, and he sat down on the steps to rest. + +"My! But this is a gay ol' church!" he thought, as he looked curiously +at the beautiful building. "Wonder where them steps go to." + +Springing up he ran across the pillared porch to the foot of the stone +stairs that led to the upper entrance to the chapel. Following a +sudden impulse he started hastily up these stairs, his bare feet +making no sound. At the top of the stairs he found himself shut in on +two sides by a high stone balustrade, the chapel door forming the +third side. This door was closed. He tried it softly and found it +locked. Then he dropped down in the darkest corner of the landing, +and, with eyes and ears still keenly alert, pulled from his pocket the +mud-stained purse and examined it carefully. He found in it thirty-six +dollars in bills and about a dollar more in silver. + +The boy gave a gleeful, silent laugh. "Struck it rich this time," he +said to himself. + +He hunted up a crooked pin from somewhere about his dilapidated +garments, and fastened the roll of bills as securely as he could +inside the lining of his jacket, keeping the silver in his pocket. +Then he again examined the book to be sure that he had overlooked +nothing. On the inside of the leather was the name, + +"R. A. RUSSELL," + +and there was also a card bearing the same name and an address. The +card he tore into tiny bits and chewed into a pellet which he tossed +over the stone balustrade. Then, with the pocketbook in his hand, he +looked about him. There was a pastor's box fastened beside the +door. He crowded the telltale book through the opening in the top of +this box, and then with a satisfied air ran blithely down the stone +steps. But he stopped short as he came face to face with the sexton +who was just crossing the porch. + +"Here, you! Where've you been? What you been up to?" cried the man, +clutching at him angrily, but the boy was too quick. + +He ducked suddenly, slipped under the sexton's hands and darted across +the porch and down the steps. Then he stopped to call back, + +"Be'n makin' 'rangements ter preach fer ye here next Sunday--yah! +yah!" and with a mocking laugh he disappeared leaving the sexton +shaking his fist in impotent wrath. + +The boy ran swiftly on until he had gotten quite a distance from the +church; then he slackened his pace and began to plan what he should do +next. The sight of a confectioner's window reminded him that he was +hungry, and he went into the store and bought two tarts which he ate +as he walked on. After that he bought a quart of peanuts, two bananas +and a piece of mince-pie, and having disposed of all these he felt +hungry no longer. + +Having in his possession what seemed to him a small fortune, he saw no +necessity for working, so that night he did not go as usual to the +newspaper office for the evening papers, but spent his time loafing +around the busiest corners and watching all that went on about the +streets. This unusual conduct attracted the attention of his cronies, +and a number of newsboys gathered about him trying to find out the +reason of his strange idleness. + +"I say, Tode," called one, "why ain't ye gettin' yer papers?" + +"Aw, he's come into a fortune, he has," put in another. "His rich +uncle's come home an' 'dopted him." + +"Naw, he's married Vanderbilt's daughter," sneered a third. + +"Say, now, Tode, tell us w'at's up," whispered one, sidling up to +him. "Hev ye swiped somethin'?" + +Tode tried to put on an expression of injured innocence, but his face +flushed as he answered, shortly, + +"Come, hush yer noise, will ye! Can't a chap lay off fer one day +'thout all the town pitchin' inter him? I made a dollar extry this +mornin'--that's all the' is about it," and stuffing his hands into his +pockets he marched off to avoid further comment. + +For the next week Tode "lived high" as he expressed it. He had from +three to six meals a day and an unlimited amount of pie and peanuts +besides, but after all he was not particularly happy. Time hung heavy +on his hands sometimes--the more so as the boys, resenting his living +in luxurious idleness, held aloof, and would have nothing to do with +him. He had been quite a leader among them, and it galled him to be so +left out and ignored. He began to think that he should not be sorry +when his ill-gotten money was gone. He was thinking after this fashion +one day as he strolled aimlessly down a side street. It was a quiet +street where at that hour there was little passing, and Tode lounged +along with his hands in his pockets until he came to a place where the +sidewalk was littered with building material and where a large house +was in course of construction. Perhaps the workmen were on a strike +that day. At any rate none of them were about, and the boy sprang up +onto a barrel that was standing near the curbstone, and sat there +drumming on the head with two pieces of lath and whistling a lively +air. + +After a little his whistle ceased and he looked up and down the street +with a yawn, saying to himself, + +"Gay ol' street, this is! Looks like everybody's dead or asleep." + +But even as he spoke a girl came hastily around the nearest corner and +hurried toward him. She looked about fourteen. Her clothes were worn +and shabby but they were clean, and in her arms she carried a baby +wrapped in a shawl. She stopped beside Tode and looked at him with +imploring eyes. + +"Oh can't you help me to hide somewhere? Do! Do!" she cried, with a +world of entreaty in her voice. + +The boy glanced at her coolly. + +"What ye want ter hide for? Been swipin' somethin'?" he questioned, +carelessly. + +The girl flashed at him an indignant glance, then cast a quick, +frightened one behind her. + +"No, no!" she exclaimed, earnestly. "I'm no thief. I'm running away +from old Mary Leary. She's most killed my little brother giving him +whiskey so's to make him look sick when she takes him out +begging. Look here!" + +She lifted the shawl that was wrapped about the child. Tode leaned +over and looked at the little face. It was a pitiful little face--so +white and thin, with sunken eyes and blue lips--so pitiful that it +touched even Tode's heart, that was not easily touched. + +"The ol' woman after ye?" he asked, springing down from the barrel. + +"Yes, yes! Oh, do help me," pleaded the girl, the tears running down +her cheeks as she gazed at the baby face. "I'm afraid he's going to +die." + +The boy cast a quick glance about him. + +"Here!" he exclaimed, "squat down an' I'll turn this over ye." + +He seized a big empty barrel that stood near. Without a word the girl +slipped to the ground and he turned the barrel over her, kicking under +the edge a bit of wood to give air. The next moment he stooped down to +the opening and whispered, + +"Hi! The ol' lady's a comin'. Don't ye peep. I'll fix her!" + +Then he reseated himself again on the barrelhead and began to drum and +whistle as before, apparently paying no heed to the woman who came +along scolding and swearing, with half a dozen street children +following at her heels. She came nearer and nearer but Tode drummed on +and whistled unconcernedly until she stopped before him and exclaimed +harshly, + +"You boy--have you seen a girl go by here, with a baby?" + +"Nope," replied Tode, briefly. + +"How long you be'n settin' here?" + +"'Bout two weeks," answered the boy, gravely. + +The woman stormed and blustered, but finding that this made no +impression she changed her tactics and began in a wheedling tone, + +"Now, dearie, you'll help an ol' woman find her baby, won't ye? It's +heartbroke I am for my pretty darlin' an' that girl has carried him +off. Tell me, dearie, did they go this way?" + +"I d' know nothin' 'bout yer gal," exclaimed Tode. "Why don't ye scoot +'round an' find her 'f she's cleared out?" + +"An' ain't I huntin' her this blessed minute?" shrieked the woman, +angrily. "I b'lieve ye _have_ seen her. Like's not ye've hid her +away somewheres." + +Tode turned away from her and resumed his drumming while the woman +cast a suspicious glance at the unfinished building. + +"She may be there," she muttered and began searching through the piles +of building material on the ground floor. + +"Hope she'll break her ol' neck!" thought Tode, vengefully, as he +whistled with fresh vigor. + +The woman reappeared presently, and casting a threatening glance and a +torrent of bad language at the boy, went lumbering heavily down the +street with the crowd of noisy, curious children straggling along +behind her. + +When they had all disappeared around the corner of the street, Tode +sprang down and putting his mouth to the opening at the bottom of the +barrel whispered hastily, + +"Keep still 'til I see if she's gone sure," and he raced up to the +corner where he watched until the woman was out of sight. Then he ran +back and lifted the barrel off, saying, + +"It's all right--she's gone, sure 'nough." + +The girl cast an anxious glance up and down the street as she sprang +up. + +"Oh dear!" she exclaimed. "I don't know where to go!" and Tode saw +that her eyes were full of tears. + +He looked at her curiously. + +"Might go down t' the wharf. Ol' woman wouldn't be likely ter go +there, would she?" he suggested. + +"I don't think so. I've never been there," replied the girl. "Which +way is it?" + +"Come on--I'll show ye;" and Tode set off at a rapid pace. + +The girl followed as fast as she could, but the child was a limp +weight in her arms and she soon began to lag behind and breathe +heavily. "What's the matter? Why don't ye hurry up?" exclaimed the +boy with an impatient backward glance. + +"I--can't. He's so--heavy," panted the girl breathlessly. + +Tode did not offer to take the child. He only put his hands in his +pockets and waited for her, and then went on more slowly. + +When they reached the wharf, he led the way to a quiet corner where +the girl dropped down with a sigh of relief and weariness, while he +leaned against a post and looked down at her. Presently he remarked, + +"What's yer name?" + +"Nan Hastings," replied the girl. + +"How'd she get hold o' ye?" pursued the boy, with a backward jerk of +his thumb that Nan rightly concluded was meant to indicate the Leary +woman. + +She answered slowly, "It was when mother died. We had a nice home. We +were not poor folks. My father was an engineer, and he was killed in +an accident before Little Brother was born, and that almost broke +mother's heart. After the baby came she was sick all the time and she +couldn't work much, and so we used up all the money we had, and mother +got sicker and at last she told me she was going to die." The girl's +voice trembled and she was silent for a moment; then she went on, "She +made me kneel down by the bed and promise her that I would always take +care of Little Brother and bring him up to be a _good_ man as +father was. I promised, and I am going to do it." + +The girl spoke earnestly with the light of a solemn purpose in her +dark eyes. + +Tode began to be interested. "And she died?" he prompted. + +"Yes, she died. She wrote to some of her relatives before she died +asking them to help Little Brother and me, but there was no answer to +the letter, and after she died all our furniture was sold to pay the +doctor and the funeral bills. The doctor wanted to send us to an +orphan asylum, but Mary Leary had worked for us, and she told me that +if we went to an asylum they would take Little Brother away from me +and I'd never see him any more, and she said if I'd go home with her +she'd find me a place to work and I could keep the baby. So I went +home with her. It was a horrid place"--Nan shuddered--"and I found out +pretty soon that she drank whiskey, but I hadn't any other place to +go, so I had to stay there, but lately she's been taking the baby out +every day and he's been growing so pale and sick-looking, and +yesterday I caught her giving him whiskey, and then I knew she did it +to make him look sick so that she would get more money when she went +out begging with him." + +"An' so you cut an' run?" put in Tode, as the girl paused. + +[Illustration: "He's awakin' up, I guess."] + +"Yes--and I'll _never_ go back to her, but--I don't know what I +_can_ do. Do you know any place where I can stay and work for +Little Brother?" + +The dark eyes looked up into the boy's face with a wistful, pleading +glance, as the girl spoke. + +"I'd know no place," replied Tode, shrugging his shoulders +carelessly. He did not feel called upon to help this girl. Tode +considered girls entirely unnecessary evils. + +Nan looked disappointed, but she said no more. + +"He's wakin' up, I guess," remarked Tode, glancing at the baby. + +The little thing stirred uneasily, and then the heavy, blue-veined +lids were lifted slowly, and a pair of big innocent blue eyes looked +straight into Tode's. A long, steadfast, unchildlike look it was, a +look that somehow held the boy's eyes in spite of himself, and then a +faint, tremulous smile quivered over the pale lips, and the baby hands +were lifted to the boy. + +That look and smile had a strange, a wonderful effect on +Tode. Something seemed to spring into life in his heart in that +instant. Up to this hour he had never known what love was, for he had +never loved any human being, but as he gazed into the pure depths of +those blue eyes and saw the baby fingers flutter feebly toward him, +his heart went out in love to the child, and he held out his arms to +take him. + +Nan hesitated, with a quick glance at Tode's dirty hands and garments, +but he cried imperiously, + +"Give him here. He wants to come to me," and she allowed him to take +the child from her arms. As he felt himself lifted in that strong +grasp, Little Brother smiled again, and nestled with a long breath of +content against Tode's dirty jacket. + +"See--he likes me!" cried the boy, his face all aglow with the +strange, sweet delight that possessed him. He sat still holding the +child, afraid to move lest he disturb his charge, but in a few minutes +the baby began to fret. + +"What's he want?" questioned Tode, anxiously. + +Nan looked distressed. "I'm afraid he's hungry," she replied. "Oh +dear, what _shall_ I do!" + +She seemed ready to cry herself, but Tode sprang up. + +"You come along," he exclaimed, briefly, and he started off with the +child still in his arms, and Nan followed wonderingly. She shrank back +as he pushed open the door of a restaurant, but Tode went in and after +a moment's hesitation, she followed. + +"What'll he take--some beef?" inquired the boy. + +"Oh no!" cried Nan, hastily, "some bread and milk will be best for +him." + +"All right. Here you--bring us a quart o' milk an' a loaf o' bread," +called Tode, sharply, to a waiter. + +When these were brought he added, "Now fetch on a steak an' a oyster +stew." + +Then he turned with a puzzled look to Nan. "How does he take it? D'ye +pour it down his throat?" he asked. + +"No, no!" cried Nan, hastily, as he seized the bowl of milk. "You must +feed it to him with a spoon." + +"All right!" and utterly regardless of the grinning waiters Tode began +to feed the baby, depositing quite as much in his neck as in his +mouth, while Nan looked on, longing to take the matter into her own +hands, but afraid to interfere. Suddenly Tode glanced at her. + +"Why don't ye eat?" he said, with a gesture toward the food on the +table. The girl coloured and drew back. + +"Oh I can't," she exclaimed, hastily, "I ain't--I don't want +anything." + +"Ain't ye hungry?" demanded Tode in a masterful tone. + +"N--not much," stammered Nan, but the boy saw a hungry gleam in her +eyes as she glanced at the food. + +"Y'are, too! Now you jest put that out o' sight in a hurry!" + +But Nan shook her head. "I'm no beggar," she said, proudly, "and some +time I'm going to pay you for that," and she pointed to the bowl of +bread and milk. + +"Shucks!" exclaimed the boy. "See here! I've ordered that stuff an' +I'll have it to pay for anyhow, so you might's well eat it. _I_ +don't want it," and he devoted himself again to the child. + +Nan turned her head resolutely away, but she was so hungry and the +food did smell so good that she could not resist it. She tasted the +oysters and in three minutes the bowl was empty, and a good bit of the +steak had disappeared before she pushed aside her plate. + +"Thank you," she said, gratefully. "It did taste _so_ good!" + +"Huh!" grunted Tode. This was the first time in his life that anybody +had said "thank you" to him. + +He handed the baby over to Nan and, though he had said he was not +hungry, finished the steak and a big piece of pie in addition and then +the three left the restaurant. + + + +II. NAN'S NEW HOME + + +As they went out, Nan looked anxiously from side to side, fearing to +see or be seen by the Leary woman. Tode noticed her troubled look and +remarked, + +"Ye needn't ter fret. _I_ wouldn't let her touch ye. We might's +well go back to the wharf," he added. + +So they returned to the corner they had left, and in a little while +the baby dropped into a refreshing sleep in his sister's lap, while +Tode sometimes roamed about the wharf, and sometimes lounged against a +post and talked with Nan. + +"What is _your_ name?" she asked him, suddenly. + +"Tode Bryan." + +"Tode? That's a queer name." + +"'Spect that ain't all of it. There's some more, but I've forgot what +'tis," the boy replied, carelessly. + +"And where's your home, Tode?" + +"Home? Ain't got none. Never had none--no folks neither." + +"But where do you live?" + +"Oh, anywheres. When I'm flush, I sleeps at the Newsboys' Home, an' +when I ain't, I takes the softest corner I can find in a alley or on a +doorstep," was the indifferent reply. + +Nan looked troubled. + +"But I can't do that," she said. "I can't sleep in the street with +Little Brother." + +"Why not?" questioned Tode, wonderingly. + +"Oh because--girls can't do like that." + +"Lots o' girls do." + +"But--not nice girls, Tode," said Nan, wistfully. + +"Well no, I don't 'spect they're nice girls. I don't know any girls 't +amount to much," replied Tode, disdainfully. + +Nan flushed at his tone, as she answered, + +"But what _can_ I do? Where can I go? Seems as if there ought to +be some place where girls like me could stay." + +"That's so, for a fact," assented Tode, then he added, thoughtfully, +"The's one feller--mebbe you could stay where he lives. He's got a +mother, I know." + +"Oh if I only could, Tode! I'd work _ever_ so hard," said Nan, +earnestly. + +"You stay here an' I'll see 'f I can find him," said the boy. Then he +turned back to add suspiciously, "Now don't ye clear out while I'm +gone." + +Nan looked at him wonderingly. + +"Where would I go?" she questioned, and Tode answered with a laugh, + +"That a fact--ye ain't got no place to go, have ye?" + +Then he disappeared and Nan waited anxiously for his return. He came +back within an hour bringing with him a freckle-faced boy a year or so +older than himself. + +"This's the gal!" he remarked, briefly. + +The newcomer looked doubtfully at Nan. + +"See the little feller," cried Tode, eagerly. "Ain't he a daisy? See +him laugh," and he chucked the baby clumsily under the chin. + +The child's heavy eyes brightened and he smiled back into the +friendly, dirty face of the boy. + +The other boy looked at Tode wonderingly. "Didn't know 't you liked +_kids,_" he said, scornfully. + +"So I don't--but this one's diff'runt," replied Tode, promptly. "You +ain't no common kid, be ye, Little Brother?" + +"What's his name?" questioned the boy. + +"His name is David, but mother always called him Little Brother, and +so I do," answered the girl, in a low tone. "Have you a mother?" she +added, with an earnest look at the boy. + +"Got the best mother in this town," was the prompt reply. + +"Oh, won't you take me to her, then? Maybe she can tell me what to +do," Nan pleaded. + +"Well, come along, then," responded the boy, rather grudgingly. + +"You come too, Tode," said Nan. "'Cause you know we might meet Mary +Leary." + +"All right. I'll settle her. Don't you worry," and Tode, with a very +warlike air marched along at Nan's right hand. + +"What's your mother's name?" questioned Nan, shyly, of the newcomer as +the three walked on together. + +"Hunt. I'm Dick Hunt," was the brief reply. Then Dick turned away +from the girl and talked to Tode. + +It was not very far to Dick's home. It was in one of the better class +of tenement houses. The Hunts had three rooms and they were clean and +comfortably furnished. Tode looked around admiringly as Dick threw +open the door and led the way in. Tode had never been in rooms like +these before. Nan--after one quick glance about the place--looked +earnestly and longingly into Mrs. Hunt's kind motherly face. Dick +wasted no words. + +"Mother," he said, "this girl wants to stay here." + +Mrs. Hunt was making paper bags. Her busy fingers did not stop for a +moment, but she cast a quick, keen glance at Nan and Tode. + +"What do you mean, Dick?" she said. + +"Oh, Mrs. Hunt, if you only would let us stay here till I can find a +place to work, I'd be so thankful. We'll have to stay in the street +tonight--Little Brother and I--if you don't," urged Nan, eagerly. + +Mrs. Hunt's kind heart was touched by the girl's pleading tone. She +had girls of her own and she thought, "What if my Nellie had to spend +the night in the street," but she said only: + +"Sit down, my dear, and tell me all about it." + +The kind tone and those two words "my dear," were almost too much for +poor anxious Nan. Her eyes filled with tears and her voice was not +quite steady as she told again her sorrowful little story, and when it +was ended the mother's eyes too were dim. + +"Give me that baby," she exclaimed, forgetting her work for the +moment, and she took the little fellow tenderly in her arms. "You poor +child," she added, to Nan, "of course you can stay here to-night. It's +a poor enough place an' we're as pinched as we can be, but we'll +manage somehow to squeeze out a bite and a corner for you for a day or +two anyway." + +Tode's face expressed his satisfaction as he turned to depart. Dick +too looked pleased. + +"Didn't I tell ye I'd got the best mother in this town?" he said, +proudly, as he followed Tode down the stairs. + +"Yes you did, an' 'twarn't no lie neither," assented Tode, +emphatically; "but, see here, you can tell your mother that _I'm_ +agoin' to pay for that little feller's bread an' milk." + +Dick looked at him curiously. + +"You goin' to work again?" he questioned. + +"'Course I am." + +"Somebody's got your beat." + +"Who?" Tode stopped short in angry surprise as he asked the question. + +"That big red-headed feller that they call Carrots." + +"Well--Carrots'll find himself knocked out o' business," declared +Tode, fiercely. + +When the newsboys assembled at the newspaper office a little later, +Dick speedily reported Tode's remark, and soon all eyes were on the +alert to see what would happen. Tode was greeted rather coldly and +indifferently, but that did not trouble him. He bought his papers and +set off for his usual beat. Scenting a fight a good many of the boys +followed. As Dick had said, Tode found the big fellow on the ground, +lustily crying his papers. Tode marched straight up to him. + +"See here, Carrots, this's my beat. You clear out--d'ye hear?" he +shouted. + +The big fellow leered at him scornfully, and without a word in +response, went on calling his papers. + +Down on the ground went Tode's stock in trade, and he fell upon +Carrots like a small cyclone fighting with teeth, nails, fists and +heels, striking in recklessly with never a thought of fear. + +Forgetful of possible customers, the boys quickly formed a ring, and +yelled and hooted at the antagonists, cheering first one and then the +other. But the contest was an unequal one. The red-headed boy was the +bigger and stronger of the two and plucky as Tode was, he would have +been severely treated had not the affair been ended by the appearance +of a policeman who speedily separated the combatants. + +"What's all this row about?" he demanded, sharply, as he looked from +Tode's bleeding face to the big fellow's bruised eye. + +"He took my beat. I've sold papers here for three years," cried Tode, +angrily. + +"What _you_ got to say?" The policeman turned to the other. + +"He give it up. He ain't sold a paper here for a week past," growled +Carrots. + +"Whose beat is it?" The man turned to the other boys as he asked the +question. + +"Reckon it's Tode's." + +"He's o'ny been layin' off fer a spell." + +"It's Tode's sure 'nough." + +So they answered, and the officer turned again to Carrots. + +"You're a bigger feller 'n he is. You let him alone an' go find a new +beat for yourself, an' see 't I don't catch either of ye fightin' in +the streets again, or I'll put ye where ye'll get another kind of a +beat if ye don't walk straight. Now scatter--all of ye!" + +The "fun" was over and the boys needed no second bidding. They +scattered in all directions and the next moment, Tode's shrill voice +rang out triumphantly, while his rival stalked gloomily off, +meditating dire vengeance in the near future. + +Meantime, after Tode and Dick had departed, Nan had spoken a few +grateful words to Mrs. Hunt, and then laying the baby on the lounge, +she said, earnestly, + +"Please show me just how you make those bags. I'm sure I can do it." + +It was simple work and it did not take her many minutes to master the +details. Her quick eyes and deft fingers soon enabled her to do the +work fully as well and as rapidly as Mrs. Hunt could do it. + +"Well, I never! You certainly are a quick one," exclaimed the good +woman as she gave up her seat to the girl. "Now if you can finish that +job for me, I can get a little sewing done before dark." + +"Oh yes, I can finish this easily," exclaimed Nan, delighted that +there was something that she could do in return for the kindness shown +her. + +By and by, Jimmy, Nellie, and the younger children came in from +school, staring in amazement at the two strangers who seemed so much +at home there. Nan made friends with them at once, but she dreaded the +arrival of the father. + +"What if he shouldn't want us to stay?" she thought, anxiously, as she +heard a heavy step on the stairs, and Nellie called out, + +"Here comes father!" + +There was a general rush of the children as he opened the door and he +came into the room with boys and girls swarming over him. Nan's fears +departed at the first sight of his honest, kindly face, and his cheery +greeting to her. + +"Wal' now, this is nice," he said, heartily, after hearing his wife's +brief explanation. "Never can have too many little gals 'round to +suit me, an' as fer this young man," he lifted Little Brother gently +as he spoke, "he fits into this fam'ly jest like a book. Ted here's +gettin' most too much of a man to be our baby any longer." + +Ted's round face had lengthened as his father took up the baby, but it +brightened at these words, and he straightened himself and slipped his +hands into the pockets of the very short trousers he was wearing. + +"I'll be a big man pretty soon," he remarked, and his father patted +his head tenderly as he answered, + +"So you will, sonny, so you will, an' the more you help other folks +the faster you'll grow." + +That was a happy evening for Nan. As she sat at the supper-table at +"father's" right hand the only shadow on her satisfaction was the fear +that she might not be allowed to remain in this friendly +household. But somehow, even that thought could not cast a very dark +shadow on her heart when she looked up into the sunshine of Father +Hunt's plain face, or met the motherly smile of his good wife. She +lent a helping hand whenever she saw an opportunity to do so, and the +table was cleared, and the dishes washed so quickly that Mr. Hunt +remarked to his wife, + +"Look here, now, mother, why can't you an' me go somewheres this +evening? You ain't been out with me for more'n a year, an' I feel's if +I'd like a bit of an outin' to-night." + +Mrs. Hunt looked up doubtfully, but Nan spoke up quickly, + +"Do go, Mrs. Hunt. I'll take care of the children and be glad to." + +"That's right! That's right!" exclaimed Mr. Hunt. "'Course ye will, +an' I 'spect you'll make 'em have such a fine time that they'll be +sorry when we get back." + +Ted put his finger in his mouth and gloom gathered on his round face +at this suggestion, but it vanished as Nan said, + +"Teddy, I can cut fine soldiers out of paper, and animals too. After +your father and mother go I'll cut some for you." + +Teddy's face brightened at this promise, and he saw the door close +behind his mother without shedding a single tear. + +Nan put Little Brother to bed and then all the children gathered about +the table and Nan drew men and animals on brown paper and cut them +out, to the great delight of the children. Teddy especially was so +interested that once Nellie remarked, "You needn't get quite into +Nan's mouth, Ted." + +Nan laughed. "If he only won't get his fingers cut instead of the +paper," she said. + +"There! I've got a whole fun'ral of horses," remarked Ted, in a tone +of great satisfaction, as he ranged a long string of the figures two +and two on the table. + +"Look out, Ted, you'll knock over the lamp!" cried Jimmy, hastily. + +The warning came too late. Even as the words were uttered, the chair +on which Ted was standing slipped from under him, and as he struck out +wildly to save himself from falling he hit the lamp and knocked it +over on the table. The chimney rolled to the floor with a crash, and +the burning oil spread over the table licking up Ted's horses and the +scattered bits of paper as it went. Then a piece of the burning paper +blew against Nellie's apron and the next instant that was blazing, and +Nellie screaming with fright, while the other children ran crying into +the inner room--all but Ted. He--petrified with terror--stood still +with mouth and eyes wide open, gazing at the fiery stream rolling over +the table. + +It all happened in two or three seconds, but Nan did not lose her +head. She jerked off Nellie's apron without regard to fastenings, and +crammed it into the coalhod, then snatching up her old shawl which was +lying on the lounge, she threw it over the burning lamp and gathered +it closely over lamp, paper and all, so smothering the flames. In two +minutes the danger was over, Nan had lighted another lamp that Nellie +brought her, and the frightened children came creeping slowly back to +the table. + +Teddy did not care for paper men or animals any more that night. He +was ready to go to bed, and Nellie undressed him and put him there, +but the others sat up until the father and mother came home, all eager +to tell the story of their danger and of Nan's bravery. The mother's +eyes filled with tears as she put her arms about as many of the +children as she could gather into them and looked at Nan in silent +gratitude, while the father laid his hand kindly on the girl's brown +hair as he said, gravely, + +"Child, you've earned your place in this home. As long as I'm able to +work you're just as welcome here as the rest--you and the baby too." + +Nan's eyes were shining happily. + +"'Twas nothing much to do," she answered, "and I'll find some way to +pay for Little Brother and me if only we can stay here." + +Dick had come in soon after his parents, and had listened in gloomy +silence to the story of the children. + +"Humph!" he said to himself. "Twasn't so awful much to put out that +fire. I'd a done it in no time if I'd a been here." + +It seemed to Dick that his father and mother were making altogether +too much of this strange girl, and the evil spirit of jealousy reared +its ugly head in his heart. He wished he had not brought those two +home with him, anyhow. + +When, the next day, Tode met him on the street and inquired about Nan +and Little Brother, Dick replied, gruffly, + +"Oh, they're all right 'nough." + +"But are they goin' ter stay't your place?" questioned Tode. + +"'Spect so." Dick's voice was gruffer than before. + +"I'm agoin' 'round there to see 'em to-day," remarked Tode. + +Dick made no reply. + +Tode repeated, "Don't ye hear? I say I'm agoin' ter see 'em to-day." + +"I heard what ye said. S'pose I'm deaf?" and Dick turned his back and +marched off. + +Tode looked after him angrily. "Like ter punch his head fer him," he +said, under his breath. "Would, too, if his folks hadn't let Little +Brother stay on there." + +Nothing daunted by Dick's unfriendly manner, Tode presented himself +that afternoon at Mrs. Hunt's door. He found that good woman and Nan +both busy over the paper bags. All the children except Dick were at +school, and Little Brother was lying on the old shawl at his sister's +feet. Tode gave an awkward nod by way of greeting and dropped down on +the floor beside the child. + +"Hello, little chap!" he said. + +There certainly was a mutual attraction between the two, for the baby +again responded to his greeting with a smile, and held out his scrawny +little hands. + +Tode was delighted. He lifted the child in his arms and sat down with +him in an old rocking-chair. + +Nan cast a quick, disturbed glance at the two. She had dressed the +baby in some clothes that Mrs. Hunt had found for her--a few that had +survived Ted's rough usage. They were old but clean, and it was trying +to Nan to see Little Brother's pure, sweet face and fresh garments +held by Tode's dirty hands against his dirtier jacket. But the baby +did not mind. He looked as contented as Tode did, and when the boy's +grimy fingers touched his thin cheek, Little Brother laughed a soft, +happy, gurgling laugh that was music in Tode's ears. But suddenly the +boy's glance took in the contrast between his soiled hand and the +little face against which it rested. For a moment he hesitated, then +he arose hastily, placed the child gently on the old shawl again and +said to Mrs. Hunt, + +"Ye ain't got a bit o' soap you could lend me, have ye?" + +Mrs. Hunt looked at him inquiringly, then she answered a little +unwillingly, for even soap costs money, "You can take that bit on the +shelf there." + +Tode seized it and vanished. Few things escaped his quick eyes, and he +had noticed a sink and a faucet in the hall outside the door. There he +rubbed and scrubbed his hands for full five minutes vastly to their +improvement, though even then he looked at them doubtfully. + +"Can't do no better," he muttered, as he wiped them--well, he had only +one place to wipe them, and he did the best he could. When he went +back he glanced somewhat sheepishly at Mrs. Hunt as he put the +remains of the soap back on the shelf, and again took up the baby. Nan +smiled at him but she made no remark, and tried not to look at his +jacket. + +After he had gone Mrs. Hunt asked, thoughtfully, "How long have you +known that boy, Nan?" + +"I never saw him until yesterday," answered the girl. "He was good to +me then." + +"Yes, I know, an' of course you don't want to forget that, but, Nan, +I'm afraid he's a bad boy. Dick says he is. He says he lies and +steals and swears. I guess you don't want to have much to do with +him." + +Nan looked troubled. She answered, slowly, + +"I guess he hasn't had much of a chance, Mrs. Hunt. He can't remember +anything about his father and mother, and he says he's never had any +home except the street. Do you s'pose 'twill hurt for him to come here +sometimes to see Little Brother? 'Seems as if it might help him to be +a better boy. He likes Little Brother." + +For a moment Mrs. Hunt was silent. She was thinking how hard she tried +to bring up her children to be good boys and girls, and yet they were +not always good. She wondered what kind of a boy her Dick would have +been if he, like Tode, had had no home and no one to keep him from +evil ways. + +"If that's so, there's some excuse for him," she said, in response to +Nan's plea for Tode. + +"P'raps 'twill help him somehow if he gets to carin' for that innocent +baby, an' I don't mind his comin' here sometimes, only be careful that +you don't learn any evil from him, my dear," and she leaned over and +kissed the girl's cheek. + +"Oh, Mrs. Hunt, I _must_ be good always, you know, for Little +Brother's sake. I can't ever forget or break my promise to mother," +Nan answered, earnestly. And Mrs. Hunt, as she saw the solemn look in +the dark eyes uplifted to her own, felt that she need not worry about +Nan and Tode. + + + +III. AN ACCIDENT + + +Tode Bryan was sauntering down the street, his hands in his pockets, +as usual, when he was not selling papers. He was whistling a lively +tune, but he was on the lookout for anything interesting that might +happen. As he passed a fruit stand kept by an old woman, he slyly +snatched a handful of peanuts which he ate as he went on. He had sold +out his papers more quickly than usual, for it was still early in the +evening, and the streets were full of business-men on their way to +their homes. + +Suddenly the boy stopped short and listened, and the next moment there +was a general rush into doorways and side streets as a fire-engine +came dashing around the corner, while the police rushed from side to +side clearing the way through the narrow street. + +As the engine passed, Tode, like every other boy within sight or +hearing, raced madly after it, shouting and yelling "fire" with all +the power of his healthy lungs. Hearing somebody say where the fire +was, he slipped through a narrow cross street and an alley, so coming +out ahead of the engine which the next moment swung around the nearest +corner. + +An old man was just crossing the street, and as he heard the clang of +the gong and the clatter of the engine, he looked about in a dazed, +frightened way, and, instead of hurrying across, hesitated a moment +and then turned uncertainly back. The driver did his best to avoid +him but when the engine had passed the old man lay motionless upon the +ground. + +Instantly a crowd gathered about him and Tode pressed forward to the +front rank. One policeman was raising the old man's head and another +was asking if anybody knew who the injured man was. + +It was Tode, who, peering curiously at the pale face, remarked, + +"I know him. He buys papers o' me." + +"What's his name? Where does he live?" questioned the officer. + +"Do' know. He keeps a bookstand down on School street." + +"Well, we'll have to send him to the hospital. Ring up the ambulance, +Dick," said the officer to his companion. + +Tode was just dashing off after the engine when one of the policemen +collared him. + +"Here you!" he exclaimed. "None o' your cuttin' off! If you know this +man you've got to go to the hospital an' 'dentify him." + +Tode looked uncomfortable and tried to squirm out of the man's +grasp--a fruitless effort, for his strength availed nothing against +that iron grip. The boy had no idea what "'dentify" might mean but he +had his reasons for preferring to keep at a distance from the +guardians of the law. There was no help for it, however, so with many +inward misgivings, he submitted and waited for the ambulance. When it +appeared the still insensible old man was lifted in and Tode was +ordered to the front seat where he rode securely between the driver +and the policeman. The boy had never before been in a hospital and he +felt very ill at ease when he found himself inside the building with +its big rooms and long bare halls. He was left alone with the +policeman for a while, and then both of them were called into another +room and questioned in regard to the accident. Finally Tode was +dismissed with strict orders to return the next day. + +"He'll be here. I know him, an' if he don't show up, you jest send me +word an' I'll find him for ye," the officer said to the doctor, with a +threatening glance at the boy. + +Tode said nothing, but in his heart he was determined not to return +the next day. The officer, however, kept his eye on him, and the next +afternoon pounced upon him and put him on a street car with strict +orders to the conductor not to let him off until he reached the +hospital. So finding himself thus under watch and ward, Tode concluded +that he might as well obey orders, and he rang the bell at the +hospital door. He was met by the doctor whom he had seen the night +before, and taken at once to the ward where the injured man was lying. + +As Tode gazed around the long room with its rows of white beds, a +feeling of awe stole over him. He wanted to get away, for he did not +know what to do or say. + +The old man was lying as if asleep, but when the doctor spoke to him +he looked up and his dim eyes brightened at sight of the familiar face +of the boy. + +"Oh, bishop, it's you is it? Got a paper for me?" he said with a +feeble smile. + +Tode wriggled uneasily as he answered gruffly, "Guess ye don't want +none to-day, do ye?" + +"No, I don't believe I do. You can bring me one to-morrow, bishop," +and as he spoke the old man closed his eyes again, and turned his face +away with a weary sigh. + +"Come away now," said the doctor, and once outside the door he added, +"He hasn't said as much as that before. Seeing some one he knew +aroused him as I hoped it would. Why does he call you bishop?" + +"I do' know," replied Tode, indifferently. + +"Well, you must come again to-morrow. Here's a car ticket and a +quarter. I'll give you the same when you come to-morrow. Be here about +this time, will you?" + +"All right--I'll come," answered the boy to whom the quarter was an +inducement. + +The old man remained at the hospital for several weeks and Tode +continued to visit him there at first for the sake of the money and +because he dared not disobey the doctor's orders, but after a while he +became rather proud of the old man's evident liking for him, and he +would often sit and talk with him for half an hour at a time. + +One day Tode inquired curiously, "What d' ye call me bishop for? +'Tain't my name." + +And the old man answered dreamily, "You remind me of a boy I knew when +I was about your age. He used to say that he was going to be a bishop +when he grew up and so we boys always called him 'bishop.'" + +"An' did he?" questioned Tode. + +"Become a bishop? No, he entered the army and died in his first +battle." + +"W'at's a bishop, anyhow?" asked Tode, after a moment's silence. + +"You know what a minister is, Tode?" + +"A preacher, ye mean?" + +"Yes, a minister is a preacher. A bishop is a sort of head +preacher--ranking higher, you know." + +Tode nodded. "I'd rather be a soldier like that feller you knew," he +remarked. + +A day came when the old man was pronounced well enough to leave the +hospital and the doctor ordered Tode to be on hand to take him home. +The boy did not object. He was rather curious to see the little place +in the rear of the bookstand where the old man lived alone. Since the +accident the stand had been closed and Tode helped to open and air the +room and then made a fire in the stove. When this was done the old man +gave him money to buy materials for supper which of course the boy +shared. + +After this he came daily to the place to run errands or do anything +that was wanted, and by degrees the old man came to depend more and +more upon him until the business of the little stand fell almost +wholly into the boy's hands, for the owner's head still troubled him +and he could not think clearly. It was a great relief to him to have +some one to look after everything for him. Tode liked it and the +business prospered in his hands. If he lacked experience, he was +quicker and sharper than the old man. The two took their meals +together, and at night Tode slept on a blanket on the floor, and was +more comfortable and prosperous than he had ever been in his life +before. He had money to spend too, for old Mr. Carey never asked for +any account of the sums that passed through the boy's hands. So he +himself was undisturbed by troublesome questions and figures, the old +man was content now, and each day found him a little weaker and +feebler. Tode noticed this but he gave no thought to the matter. Why +borrow trouble when things were so much to his mind? Tode lived in the +present. + +He still sold the evening papers, considering it wise to keep +possession of his route against future need, and never a week passed +that he did not see Little Brother at least twice. He would have liked +to see the child every day, but he knew instinctively that he was not +a favorite with the Hunts, and that knowledge made him ill at ease +with them. But it could not keep him away altogether. He found too +much satisfaction in Little Brother's love for him. + +More than once Mrs. Hunt had remarked to Nan that she didn't "see what +in the world made the baby so fond of that rough, dirty boy." Nan +herself wondered at it though she kept always a grateful remembrance +of Tode's kindness when she first met him. + +Tode often brought little gifts to the child, and would have given him +much more, but Nan would not allow it. The two had a long argument +over the matter one day. It was a bright, sunny morning and Mrs. Hunt +had said that the baby ought to be out in the fresh air, so Nan had +taken him to the Common, and sat there keeping ever a watchful eye for +their enemy, Mary Leary. Tode going down Beacon street espied the two +and forgetting all about the errand on which he was bound, promptly +joined them. + +"He's gettin' fat--he is," the boy remarked, poking his finger at the +dimple in the baby's cheek, then drawing it quickly away again with an +uncomfortable expression. Tode never cared how dirty his hands were +except when he saw them in contrast with Little Brother's pure face. + +"Yes, he's getting well and strong," assented Nan, with a happy smile. + +"I say, Nan, w'at's the reason you won't let me pay for his milk?" +asked Tode, after a little. + +Then it was Nan's turn to look uncomfortable, and the color rose in +her cheeks as she answered, "I can pay now for all he needs. You know +Mrs. Hunt gets a double quantity of bags and I work on them every +day." + +But this answer did not satisfy Tode. "That don't make no diff'runce," +he growled. "Don't see why you won't let me do nothin' for him," and +he cast a gloomy glance at the baby, but Little Brother laughed up at +him and the gloom speedily melted away. After a moment's silence he +added, slowly, "It's comin' cold weather. He'll want a jacket or +somethin', won't he?" + +"He'll have to have some warm clothes," replied Nan, thoughtfully, +"but I can get them--I guess." + +Tode turned upon her fiercely. "I s'pose you'd let him freeze to death +'fore you'd let me buy him any clothes," he burst out, angrily. "I +sh'd like ter know w'at's the matter with ye, anyhow. Has that measly +Dick Hunt ben stuffin' ye 'bout me?" + +Nan coloured again and dropped her eyes. + +"Say--has he? I'll give it ter him next time I catch him out!" and +Tode ground his heel suggestively into the gravel walk. + +"Oh, Tode, don't! Please don't fight Dick," pleaded Nan. "How can you +when his mother's so good to Little Brother?" + +"Don't care 'f she is. _He_ ain't," was Tode's surly reply. "He +don't want you'n him to stay there." + +Nan's eyes were full of uneasiness. + +"Did he say so?" she questioned, for she had noticed Dick's coldness +and been vaguely disturbed by it. + +The boy nodded. "Yes," he said, "he tol' me so. Said there's 'nough +fer his father ter feed 'thout you'n him," and he pointed to the baby. + +"But I work," pleaded Nan. "I pay for all we eat." + +"But ye don't pay fer the rent an' the fire, an'--an' everything," +Tode replied, with a note of triumph in his voice, "so now, ye better +let me pay fer Little Brother an' then you c'n pay the rest." + +Nan hesitated and her face was troubled. Finally she lifted her dark +eyes to his and said bravely, "Tode, I guess I ought to tell you just +why I couldn't anyway let you do for Little Brother as you want +to. It's because--because you don't get your money the right way." + +"Who says I don't? Did that Dick Hunt say so? I'll"--began Tode, +fiercely, but Nan laid her hand on his arm and looked steadily into +his face. + +"Tode," she said, earnestly, "if you will look straight into Little +Brother's eyes and tell me that you never steal--I'll believe you." + +"I never"--began the boy, boldly; then he met a grave, sweet glance +from the baby's big blue eyes, and he hesitated. The lying words died +on his tongue, and turning his eyes away from the little face that he +loved, he said gloomily, "What's that got to do with it anyhow? +S'posin' I do hook a han'ful of peanuts sometimes. That ain't +nothin'." + +"Tode, do you want Little Brother to hook a handful of peanuts +sometimes when he gets big?" asked Nan, quietly. + +The boy turned his eyes again to the baby face and the hot blood +burned in his own as he answered, quickly, "'Course I don't. He won't +be that sort." + +"No, he won't, if I can help it," replied Nan, gravely. + +Tode dug his toe into the dirt in silence. Nan added, "Tode, by and +by, when he gets bigger, would you want him to know that you were a +thief?" + +When Tode looked up there was a strange gravity in his eyes, and his +lips were set in an expression of stern resolve. + +"I've got ter quit it," he said, solemnly, "an' I will. Say, Nan," he +added, wistfully, "if I quit now, ye wont ever let him know I used ter +be--what you said, will ye?" + +"No, Tode, never," answered Nan, quickly and earnestly. "And Tode, if +you'll stick to it, and not steal or lie or swear, I shan't mind your +helping me get things for Little Brother." + +The boy's face brightened, and he drew himself up proudly. "It's a +bargain, then," he said. + +Nan looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't believe you know how hard it +will be, Tode. I find it's awful hard to break myself of bad habits, +and I don't s'pose you've ever tried to before, have you?" + +Tode considered the question. "Guess not," he said, slowly, after a +pause. + +"Then I'm afraid you'll find you can't stop doing those bad things all +at once. But you'll keep on trying, Tode. You won't give up 'cause +it's hard work," Nan pleaded, anxiously. + +"Nope," answered the boy, briefly, with a glance at the soft little +fingers that were clasped about one of his. + +When Nan went home he went with her to the door, loth to lose sight of +the only creature in the world for whom he cared. As the door closed +behind the two, he walked on thinking over what Nan had said. Much of +it seemed to him "girls' stuff an' nonsense." "As if a fella couldn't +stop swipin' things if he wanted to!" he said to himself. + +As he went on he passed a fruit stand where a man was buying some +bananas. In putting his change into his pocket he dropped a nickel, +which rolled toward Tode who promptly set his foot on it, and then +pretending to pull a rag off his torn trousers, he picked up the coin +and went on chuckling over his "luck." But suddenly he stopped short +and the hot color rose in his cheeks as he exclaimed with an oath, + +"Done it again!" + +He looked around for the man, but he had disappeared, and with an +angry grunt Tode flung the nickel into the gutter and went on, +beginning so soon to realise that evil habits are not overcome by +simply resolving to conquer them. Tode never had made any such +attempt before, and the discovery had rather a depressing effect on +him. It made him cross, too, but to his credit be it said, the thought +of giving up the struggle never once occurred to him. + +He found old Mr. Carey asleep in his chair, and he awoke him roughly. + +"See here!" he exclaimed, sharply. "Is this the way you 'tend to +business when I'm gone? Some cove might a stole every book an' paper +on the stand, and cleaned out the cash, too." He pulled open the +drawer as he spoke. "No thanks to you that 'tain't empty," he +grumbled. He had never spoken so sharply before, and the old man was +vaguely disturbed by it. He got up and walked feebly across the room, +rubbing his trembling fingers through his grey hair in a troubled +fashion, as he answered slowly, + +"Yes, yes, bishop--you're right. It was very careless of me to go to +sleep so. I don't see how I came to do it. I'm afraid I'm breaking +down, my boy--breaking down," he added, sadly. + +As Tode looked at the old man's dim eyes and shaking hands a feeling +of sympathy and compassion stole into his heart, and his voice +softened as he said, "Oh, well, it's all right this time. Reckon I'll +have to run the business altogether till you get better." + +"I'm afraid you will, bishop. I'm not much good anyhow, nowadays," and +the old man dropped again into his chair with a heavy sigh. + +The weeks that followed were the most miserable weeks of Tode Byran's +short life. He found out some things about himself that he had never +before suspected. It was wholesome knowledge, but it was not pleasant +to find that in spite of his strongest resolutions, those nimble +fingers of his _would_ pick up nuts and apples from street stands +and his quick tongue would rattle off lies and evil words before he +could remember to stop it. The other boys found him a most unpleasant +companion in these days, for his continual failures made him cross and +moody. He would speedily have given up the struggle but for Little +Brother. Several times he did give it up for a week or two, but then +he staid away from the Hunts' rooms until he grew so hungry for a +sight of the baby face that he could stay away no longer. Nan came to +understand what these absences meant, and always when he reappeared +she would speak a word of encouragement and faith in his final +victory. Tode had not cared at all for Nan at first, but in these days +of struggle and failure he began to value her steadfast faith in him, +and again and again he renewed his vow to make himself "fit to help +bring up Little Brother," as he expressed it. + +It was one day toward the close of winter that Tode noticed that +Mr. Carey seemed more than usually dull and listless, dropping into a +doze even while the boy was speaking to him, and he went to bed +directly after supper. When the boy awoke the next morning the old man +lay just as he had fallen asleep. He did not answer when Tode spoke to +him, and his hands were cold as ice to the boy's touch. + +Tode did not know what to do, but he finally hunted up the policeman, +who knew him, and the two went back together and found the old man +dead. As no relatives appeared, the city authorities took charge of +the funeral, the books and the few pieces of furniture were sold to +pay the expenses, and Tode found himself once more a homeless waif. He +had not minded it before, but his brief experience of even this poor +home had unfitted him for living and sleeping in the streets. He found +it unpleasant too, to have no money except the little he could earn +selling papers. He set himself to face his future in earnest, and came +to the conclusion that it was time for him to get into some better +paying business. After thinking over the matter for several days he +went to Nan. + +"You know them doughnuts you made th' other day?" he began. + +"Yes," replied Nan, wonderingly. Mrs. Hunt had taught her to make +various simple dishes, and as Tode had happened in the day she made +her first doughnuts, she had given him a couple, which he had +pronounced "prime!" + +Now he went on, "I don't want to sleep 'round the streets any +more. I'm sick of it, but I can't make money 'nough off papers to do +anything else. I'm thinkin' of settin' up a stand." + +"A bookstand, Tode?" questioned Nan, interestedly. + +"No--a eatin' stand--fer the fellers ye know--newsboys an' such. 'F +you'll make doughnuts an' gingerbread an' san'wiches fer me, I bet all +the fellers'll come fer 'em." + +"Now that ain't a bad idea, Tode," said Mrs. Hunt, looking up from +her work. "Of course the boys would buy good homemade food instead of +the trash they get from the cheap eatin' houses, an' Nan, I shouldn't +wonder if you could earn more that way than by workin' at these bags." + +Nan considered the matter thoughtfully, and finally agreed to give it +a trial, and Tode went off highly pleased. + +It took him two weeks to save enough to start his stand even in the +simplest fashion, but when he did open it, he at first did a +flourishing business. In the beginning the boys patronised him partly +from curiosity and partly from good fellowship, but Nan's cookery +found favour with them at once, and "Tode's Corner" soon became the +favorite lunch counter for the city newsboys, and Tode's pockets were +better filled than they had been since Mr. Carey's death. + +For several weeks all went well, and the boy began to consider himself +on the high road to fortune, but then came a setback. + +One day his stand was surrounded by a crowd of boys all clamoring to +be served at once, when the big fellow who had taken possession of +Tode's newspaper route, months before, came along. He had never +forgotten or forgiven the boy for getting the better of him on that +occasion, and now he thought he saw a chance for revenge. + +Creeping up behind the group of hungry boys, he suddenly hit one of +them a stinging blow on the face, and as this one turned and struck +back angrily at him, the big fellow flung him back with all his +strength against Tode's stand. The stand was an old one and +rickety--Tode had bought it secondhand--and it went down with a crash, +carrying cookies, doughnuts, gingerbread, coffee, sandwiches, cups, +plates and boys in one promiscuous mixture. Before the boys could +struggle to their feet, Carrots, with his hands full of gingerbread, +had disappeared around the nearest corner. There was a wild rush and +a scramble, and when two minutes later, Tode stood gazing mournfully +at the wreck, not an eatable bit remained. The boys had considered the +wreckage as their lawful spoils, and every one of them had snatched as +much as he could. + +Later, however, their sense of justice led some of them to express, +after their rough fashion, sympathy for Tode, and disapproval of his +enemy's revengeful act. Besides, a few of them had enough conscience +to acknowledge to themselves that they had not been entirely +blameless. The result was that half a dozen of them went to Tode the +next day and offered to "chip in" and set him up again. + +Tode appreciated the spirit that prompted the offer, but he was also +shrewd enough to foresee that should he accept it, these boys would +expect favours in the way of prices and quantities when they dealt +with him in the future, and so he declined. + +"Reckin I can stan' on my own feet, boys," he answered. "I've been +a-tinkerin' up the ol' stand, an' I'm a-goin' to start in again +to-morrow. You fellers come here an' get yer breakfast, an' that's +all the help I'll ask, 'cept that ev'ry last one o' ye'll give that +Carrots a kick fer me." + +"We will that!" shouted the boys. "We'll make him sorry fer himself!" + +And the next day their sympathy took the practical form that Tode had +suggested, for every one of them that had any money to spend, spent it +at "Tode's Corner," so that his stand was cleared again, but in a very +satisfactory fashion--a fashion that filled his pockets with dimes and +nickels. + + + +IV. TODE MEETS THE BISHOP + + +Sundays were Tode's dreariest days. He found that it did not pay to +keep his stand open later than ten o'clock, and then after he had +spent an hour with Little Brother and Nan, the time hung heavy on his +hands. Sometimes he pored over a newspaper for a while, sometimes over +something even more objectionable than the Sunday newspaper, and for +the rest, he loafed around street corners and wharves with other +homeless boys like himself. + +One Sunday morning he was listlessly reading over some play-bills +pasted on a fence, when the word "bishop" caught his eye, and he +spelled out the announcement that a well-known bishop was to speak in +St. Mark's Church, that afternoon. + +"Cracky! I'd like to see a live bishop. B'lieve I'll go," he said to +himself. Then looking down at his ragged trousers and dirty jacket, he +added with a grin, "'Spect some o' them nobs'll most have a fit to see +me there." + +Nevertheless he determined to go. Old Mr. Carey had never called him +anything but "bishop," and now the boy had a queer feeling as he read +that word on the bill--a feeling that this bishop whom he had never +seen had yet in some way something to do with him--though in what way +he could not imagine. + +He thought over the matter through the hours that followed, sometimes +deciding that he would go, and again that he wouldn't, but he found +out where St. Mark's Church was, and at three o'clock he was there. + +He gave a little start and a shadow fell upon his face as he saw the +pillared porch and the stone stairway. He seemed to see himself +running up those stairs and stuffing that stolen pocketbook into the +pastor's box that he remembered so clearly. These thoughts were not +pleasant ones to him now, and Tode stopped hesitatingly, undecided +whether to go on or to go in. It was early yet and no one was entering +though the doors stood invitingly open. + +While he hesitated, the sexton came out to the steps. Tode remembered +him too, and looked at him with a grin that exasperated the man. "Get +out o' this!" he exclaimed, roughly. "We don't want any o' your sort +'round here." + +Of course that settled the matter for Tode. He was determined to go +in now anyhow, but he knew better than to attempt it just then. + +"Who wants to go int' yer ol' church," he muttered as he turned +away. The man growled a surly response but Tode did not look back. + +On the corner he stopped, wondering how he could best elude the +unfriendly sexton and slip into the building, without his +knowledge. He dropped down on the curbstone and sat there thinking for +some time. At last a voice above him said quietly, + +"Well, my boy, aren't you coming to church?" + +Tode looked up, up a long way it seemed to him, into such a face as he +had never before looked into. Instinctively he arose and stepped back +that he might see more plainly those clear blue eyes and that strong, +tender mouth. The boy gazed and gazed, forgetting utterly to answer. + +"You are coming into church with me, aren't you?" + +So the question was repeated, and Tode, still lookingly earnestly up +into the man's face, nodded silently. + +"That's right, my son--come," and a large, kindly hand was laid gently +upon the boy's shoulder. + +Without a word he walked on beside the stranger. + +The sexton was standing in the vestibule as the two approached. A look +of blank amazement swept across his face at sight of the boy in such +company. He said no word, however, only stepped aside with a bow, but +his eyes followed the two as they passed into the church together, and +he muttered a few angry words under his breath. + +As for Tode, some strange influence seemed to have taken possession of +him, for he forgot to exult over the surly sexton. He passed him +without a thought indeed, feeling nothing but a strange, happy wonder +at the companionship in which he found himself. + +The stranger led him up the aisle to one of the best pews, and +motioned him in. Silently the boy obeyed. Then the man looking down +with his rare, beautiful smile into the uplifted face, gently raised +Tode's ragged cap from his rough hair, and laid it on the cushioned +seat beside him. Then he went away, and Tode felt as if the sunlight +had been suddenly darkened. His eyes followed the tall, strong figure +longingly until it disappeared--then he looked about him, at the +beautiful interior of the church. The boy had never been in such a +place before, and he gazed wonderingly at the frescoes, the rich +colours in the windows, the dark carved woodwork and the wide chancel +and pulpit. + +"Wat's it all for, I wonder," he said, half aloud, and then started +and flushed as his own voice broke the beautiful, solemn silence. + +People were beginning to come in and filling the seats about him, and +many curious and astonished glances fell upon the boy, but he did not +notice them. Presently a soft, low strain of music stole out upon the +stillness. Surely a master hand touched the keys that day, for the +street boy sat like a statue listening eagerly to the sweet sounds, +and suddenly he found his cheeks wet. He dashed his hand impatiently +across them wondering what was the matter with him, for tears were +strangers to Tode's eyes, but in spite of himself they filled again, +till he almost wished the music would cease--almost but not quite, for +that strange happiness thrilled his heart as he listened. + +Then far-off voices began to sing, coming nerrer and nearer, until a +long line of white-robed men and boys appeared, singing as they +walked, and last of all came the kingly stranger who had brought Tode +into the church, and he went to the lectern and began to read. + +"The--bishop!" Tode breathed the words softly, in a mixture of wonder +and delight, as he suddenly realised who this man must be. + +He sat through the remainder of the service in a dreamy state of +strange enjoyment. He did not understand why the people around him +stood or knelt at intervals. He did not care. When the bishop prayed, +Tode looked around, wondering whom he was calling "Lord." He concluded +that it must be the one who made the music. + +He listened eagerly, breathlessly, to the sermon, understanding almost +nothing of what was said, but simply drinking in the words spoken by +that rich, sweet voice, that touched something within him, something +that only Little Brother had ever touched before. Yet this was +different from the feeling that the baby had awakened in the boy's +heart. He loved the baby dearly, but to this great, grand man, who +stood there above him wearing the strange dress that he had never +before seen a man wear--to him the boy's whole heart seemed to go out +in reverent admiration and desire. He knew that he would do anything +that this man might ask of him. He could refuse him nothing. + +"Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price." + +These words, repeated again and again, fixed themselves in Tode's +memory with no effort of his own. Buying and selling were matters +quite in his line now, but he did not understand this. He puzzled +over it awhile, then put it aside to be thought out at another time. + +When the service was over, Tode watched the long line of choir boys +pass slowly out, and his eyes followed the tall figure of the bishop +till it disappeared from his wistful gaze. Then he looked about upon +the kneeling congregation, wondering if the people were going to stay +there all day. The bishop was gone, the music had ceased, and Tode did +not want to stay any longer. He slipped silently out of the pew and +left the church. + +That evening he wandered off by himself, avoiding the Sunday +gathering-places of the boys, and thinking over the new experiences of +the afternoon. The words the bishop had repeated so often sung +themselves over and over in his ears. + +"Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price." + +"Don't mean me, anyhow," he thought, "'cause I b'long ter myself, sure +'nough. Nobody ever bought me 't ever I heard of. Wonder who that Jesus +is, he talked about so much. I wish--I wish he'd talk ter me--that +bishop." + +All the strange happiness that had filled his heart during the service +in the church, was gone now. He did not feel happy at all. On the +contrary, he felt wretched and utterly miserable. He had begun to have +a distinct pride and satisfaction in himself lately, since he had +stopped lying and stealing, and had set up in business for himself, +and especially since Mrs. Hunt had begun to look upon him with more +favour, as he knew she had--but somehow now all this seemed worthless. +Although he had not understood the bishop's sermon, it seemed to have +unsettled Tode's mind, and awakened a vague miserable dissatisfaction +with himself. He was not used to such feelings. He didn't like them, +and he grew cross and ugly when he found himself unable to shake them +off. + +He had wandered to the quiet corner of the wharf, where he and Nan and +Little Brother had spent the first hours of their acquaintance, and he +stood leaning against that same post, looking gloomily down into the +water, when a lean, rough dog crept slowly toward him, wagging his +stumpy tail and looking into the boy's face with eyes that pleaded for +a friendly word. Generally Tode would have responded to the mute +appeal, but now he felt so miserable himself, that he longed to make +somebody or something else miserable too, so instead of a pat, he gave +the dog a kick that sent it limping off with a yelp of pain and +remonstrance. He had made another creature as miserable as himself, +but somehow it didn't seem to lessen his own wretchedness. Indeed, he +couldn't help feeling that he had done a mean, cowardly thing, and +Tode never liked to feel himself a coward. He looked after the dog. +It had crawled into a corner and was licking the injured paw. Tode +walked toward the poor creature that looked at him suspiciously, yet +with a faint little wag of its tail, as showing its readiness to +forgive and forget, while at the same time ready to run if more abuse +threatened. + +Tode stooped and called, "Come here, sir!" and, after a moment's +hesitation, the dog crept slowly toward him with a low whine, still +keeping his bright eyes fastened on the boy's. + +"Poor old fellow," Tode said, gently, patting the dog's rough +head. "Is it hurt? Let me see." He felt of the leg, the dog standing +quietly beside him. + +"'Tain't broken. It'll be all right pretty soon. What's your name?" +Tode said, and the dog rubbed his head against the boy's knee and +tried to say with his eloquent eyes what his dumb lips could not +utter. + +"Got none--ye mean? You're a street dog--like me," the boy +added. "Well, guess I'll go home an' get some supper," and he walked +slowly away and presently forgot all about the dog. + +He had lately hired a tiny garret room where he slept, and kept his +supplies when his stand was closed. He went there now and ate his +lonely supper. It had never before seemed lonely to him, but somehow +to-night it did. He hurried down the food and started to go out +again. As he opened his door, he heard a faint sound, and something +moved on the dark landing. + +"Who's there?" he called, sharply. + +A low whine answered him, and from out the gloom two eyes gleamed and +glittered. Tode peered into the shadow, then he laughed. + +"So it's you, is it? You must have tagged me home. Come in here then +if you want to," and he flung his door wide open and stepped back into +the room. + +Then out of the shadows of the dark landing the dog came slowly and +warily, ready to turn and slink off if he met no welcome, but Tode was +in the mood when even a strange dog was better than his own +company. He fed the half-starved creature with some stale sandwiches, +and then talked to him and tried to teach him some tricks until to his +own surprise he heard the city clocks striking nine, and the long, +lonely evening he had dreaded was gone. + +"Well now, you're a heap o' company," he said to the dog. "I've a good +mind ter keep ye. Say, d'ye wan' ter stay, ol' feller?" + +The dog wagged his abbreviated tail, licked Tode's fingers, and rubbed +his head against the ragged trousers of his new friend. + +"Ye do, hey! Well, I'll keep ye ter-night, anyhow. Le' see, what'll I +call ye? You've got ter have a name. S'posin' I call ye Tag. That +do--hey, Tag?" + +The dog gave a quick, short bark and limped gaily about the boy's +feet. + +"All right--we'll call ye Tag then. Now then, there's yer bed," and he +threw into a corner an old piece of carpet that he had picked up on a +vacant lot. The dog understood and settled himself with a long, +contented sigh, as if he would have said: + +"At last I've found a master and a home." + +In a day or two Tag's lameness disappeared, and his devotion to his +new master was unbounded. Tode found him useful, too, for he kept +vigilant watch when the boy was busy at his stand, and suffered no +thievish fingers to snatch anything when Tode's eyes and fingers were +too busy for him to be on the lookout. The dog was such a loving, +intelligent little creature, that he quickly won his way into Nan's +heart, and he evidently considered himself the guardian of Little +Brother from the first day that he saw Tode and the child +together. Some dogs have a way of reading hearts, and Tag knew within +two minutes that Tode loved every lock on Little Brother's sunny head. + +A few days after that Sabbath that the boy was never to forget, he +went to see Nan and the baby, and in the course of his visit, +remarked, + +"Nan, I seen the bishop last Sunday." + +"What bishop?" inquired Nan. + +"The one that talked at the big, stone church--St. Mark's, they call +it." + +"I wonder 't they let you in, if you wore them ragged duds," remarked +Mrs. Hunt. + +"The bishop asked me to go in an' he took me in himself," retorted +Tode, defiantly. + +"For the land's sake," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt. "He must be a queer kind +of a bishop!" + +"A splendid kind of a bishop, I should think," put in Nan, and the boy +responded quickly, + +"He is so! I never see a man like him." + +"Never see a man like him? What d'ye mean, Tode?" questioned +Mrs. Hunt. + +Tode looked at her as he answered slowly, "He's a great big man--looks +like a king--an' his eyes look right through a feller, but they don't +hurt. They ain't sharp. They're soft, an'--an'--I guess they look like +a mother's eyes would. I d'know much 'bout mothers, 'cause I never had +one, but I should think they'd look like his do. I tell ye," Tode +faced Mrs. Hunt and spoke earnestly, "a feller'd do 'most anything that +that bishop asked him to--couldn't help it." + +Mrs. Hunt stared in amazement at the boy. His eyes were glowing and +in his voice there was a ring of deep feeling that she had never +before heard in it. It made her vaguely uncomfortable. Her Dick had +never spoken so about any bishop, nor indeed, about anybody else, and +here was this rough street boy whom she considered quite unfit to +associate with Dick--and the bishop himself had taken him into church. + +Mrs. Hunt spoke somewhat sharply. "Well, I must say you were a +queer-lookin' one to set in a pew in a church like St. Mark's." + +Nan looked distressed, and Tode glanced uneasily at his garments. They +certainly were about as bad as they could be. Even pins and twine +could not hold them together much longer. + +"Tode," Mrs. Hunt went on, "I think it's high time you got yourself +some better clothes. Dear knows, you need 'em if ever a boy did, an' +certainly you must have money 'nough now." + +"'Spect I have. I never thought about it," replied Tode. + +"Well, you'd better think about it, an' 'tend to it right away. 'F +you're goin' to church with bishops you'd ought to look respectable, +anyhow." + +Something in the tone and emphasis with which Mrs. Hunt spoke brought +the colour into Tode's brown cheeks, while Nan looked at the good +woman in surprise and dismay. She did not know how troubled was the +mother's heart over her own boy lately, as she saw him growing rough +and careless, and that it seemed to her hard that this waif of the +streets should be going up while her Dick went down. + +Tode thought over what had been said, and the result was that the next +time he appeared he was so changed that the good woman looked twice +before she recognised him. His clothes had been purchased at a +secondhand store, and they might have fitted better than they did, but +they were a vast improvement on what he had worn before. He had +scrubbed his face as well as his hands this time, and had combed his +rough hair as well as he could with the broken bit of comb which was +all he possessed in the way of toilet appliances. It is no easy matter +for a boy to keep himself well washed and brushed with no face cloth +or towel or brush, and no wash basin save the public sink. Tode had +done his best however, and Nan looked at him in pleased surprise. + +"You do look nice, Tode," she said, and the boy's face brightened with +satisfaction. + +All through that week Tode told himself that he would not go to the +church again, yet day by day the longing grew to see the bishop's face +once more and to hear his voice. + +"W'at's the use! O'ny makes a feller feel meaner 'n dirt," he said to +himself again and again, yet the next Sabbath afternoon found him +hanging about St. Mark's hoping that the bishop would ask him in +again. But the minutes passed and the bishop did not appear. + +"Maybe he's gone in aready," the boy thought, peering cautiously +through the pillars of the entrance. There was no one in sight, and +Tode crept quietly across the porch through the wide vestibule to the +church door. Only the sexton was there, and his back was toward the +boy as he stood looking out of the opposite door. + +"Now's my time," thought Tode, and he ran swiftly and silently up the +aisle to the pew where the bishop had placed him. There he hesitated. +He was not sure which of several pews was the one, but with a quick +glance at the sexton's back, he slipped into the nearest, and hearing +the man's footsteps approaching, dropped to the floor and crawled +under the seat. + +The sexton came slowly down the aisle, stopping here and there to +arrange books or brush off a dusty spot. He even entered the pew where +Tode was, and moved the books in the rack in front, but the boy lay +motionless in the shadow, and the man passed on without discovering +him. + +Then the people began to come in, and Tode was just about to get up +and sit on the seat, when a lady and a little girl entered the pew. + +The boy groaned inwardly. "They'll screech if I get up now," he +thought. "Nothin' for it but to lay here till it's over. Wal', I c'n +hear _him_ anyhow." + +"Him," in Tode's thought was the bishop, and he waited patiently +through the early part of the service, longing to hear again that +rich, strong, thrilling voice. But alas for Tode! It was not the +bishop who preached that day. It was a stranger, whose low monotonous +voice reached the boy so indistinctly, that he soon gave up all +attempts to listen, and before the sermon was half over he was sound +asleep. Fortunately he was used to hard resting-places, and he slept +so quietly that the occupants of the pew did not discover his presence +at all. + +The music of the choir and of the organ mingled with the boy's dreams, +but did not arouse him, and when the people departed and the sexton +closed the church and went home, Tode still slept on in darkness and +solitude. + +Usually there was an evening service, but on this occasion it was +omitted, the rector being ill, so when Tode at last opened his eyes, +it was to find all dark and silent about him. As he started up his +head struck the bottom of the seat with a force that made him cry out +and drop back again. Then as he lay there he put out his hands, and +feeling the cushioned seat over his head, he knew where he was and +guessed what had happened. + +"Wal! I was a chump to go to sleep here!" he muttered, slowly, rising +with hands outstretched. "'Spect I'll have ter get out of the +window." + +The street lights shining through the stained glass made a faint +twilight in the church, but there was something weird and strange +about being there alone at that hour that set the boy's heart to +beating faster than usual. + +He went to one of the windows and felt about for the fastenings, but +he could not reach them. They were too high. He tried them all, but +none were within his reach. Then he sat down in one of the pews and +wondered what he should do next. He was wide awake now. It seemed to +him that he could not close his eyes again that night, and indeed it +was long after midnight before he did. He felt strangely lonely as he +sat there through those endless hours, dimly hearing the voices and +footsteps in the street without grow fewer and fainter, till all was +silent save the clocks that rang out the creeping hours to his weary +ears. At last his tired eyes closed and he slipped down on the +cushioned seat and slept for a few hours, but he awoke again before +daylight. + +It was broad daylight outside before it was light enough in the church +for the boy to see clearly, and then he looked hopelessly at the high +window fastenings. He had tried every door but all were securely +locked. + +"Nothin' t' do but wait till that ol' cove comes back," he said to +himself. + +Then a thought flashed across his mind--a thought that made his heart +stand still with dread. "S'posin' he don't come till next Sunday?" + +Tode knew nothing about midweek or daily services. But he put this +terrible thought away from him. + +"I'll get out somehow if I have ter smash some o' them pictures," he +said aloud, as he looked up at the beautiful windows. + +The minutes seemed endless while the boy walked restlessly up and down +the aisles thinking of his stand, and of the customers who would seek +breakfast there in vain that morning. At last he heard approaching +footsteps, then a key rattled in the lock, and Tode instinctively +rolled under the nearest pew and lay still, listening to the heavy +footsteps of the sexton as he passed slowly about opening doors and +windows. The boy waited with what patience he could until the man +passed on to the further side of the church, then he slid and crawled +along the carpeted aisle until he reached the door, when springing to +his feet he made a dash for the street. He heard the sexton shouting +angrily after him, but he paid no heed. On and on he ran until he +reached his room where Tag gave him a wildly delighted welcome, and in +a very short time thereafter the stand at "Tode's Corner" was doing a +brisk business. + + + +V. IN THE BISHOP'S HOUSE + + +Tode's patrons were mostly newsboys of his acquaintance, who came +pretty regularly to his stand for breakfast, and generally for a +midday meal, lunch or dinner as it might be. Where they took their +supper he did not know, but he usually closed his place of business +after one o'clock, and spent a couple of hours roaming about the +streets doing any odd job that came in his way, if he happened to feel +like it, or to be in need of money. + +After his meeting with the bishop he often wandered up into the +neighbourhood of St. Mark's with a vague hope that he might see again +the man who seemed to his boyish imagination a very king among men. It +had long been Tode's secret ambition to grow into a big, strong man +himself--bigger and stronger than the common run of men. Now, whenever +he thought about it, he said to himself, "Just like the bishop." + +But he never met the bishop, and having found out that he did not +preach regularly at St. Mark's, Tode never went there after the second +time. + +One afternoon in late September, the boy was lounging along with Tag +at his heels in the neighbourhood of the church, when he heard a great +rattling of wheels and clattering of hoofs, and around the corner came +a pair of horses dragging a carriage that swung wildly from side to +side, as the horses came tearing down the street. There was no one in +the carriage, but the driver was puffing along a little way behind, +yelling frantically, "Stop 'em! Stop 'em! Why don't ye stop the +brutes!" + +There were not many people on the street, and the few men within sight +seemed not at all anxious to risk life or limb in an attempt to stop +horses going at such a reckless pace. + +Now Tode was only a little fellow not yet fourteen, but he was strong +and lithe as a young Indian, and as to fear--he did not know what it +was. As he saw the horses dashing toward him he leaped into the middle +of the street and stood there, eyes alert and limbs ready, directly in +their pathway. They swerved aside as they approached him, but with a +quick upward spring he grabbed the bit of the one nearest him, and +hung there with all his weight. This frightened and maddened the +horse, and he plunged and reared and flung his head from side to side, +until he succeeded in throwing the boy off. The delay however, slight +as it was, had given the driver time to come up, and he speedily +regained control of his team while a crowd quickly gathered. + +Tode had been flung off sidewise, his head striking the curbstone, and +there he lay motionless, while faithful Tag crouched beside him, now +and then licking the boy's fingers, and whining pitifully as he looked +from face to face, as if he would have said, + +"_Won't_ some of you help him? I can't." + +The crowd pressed about the unconscious boy with a sort of morbid +curiosity, one proposing one thing and one another until a policeman +came along and promptly sent a summons for an ambulance; but before it +appeared, a tall grey-haired man came up the street and stopped to see +what was the matter. He was so tall that he could look over the heads +of most of the men, and as he saw the white face of the boy lying +there in the street, he hastily pushed aside the onlookers as if they +had been men of straw, and stooping, lifted the boy in his strong +arms. + +"Stand back," he cried, his voice ringing out like a trumpet, "would +you let the child die in the street?" + +They fell back before him, a whisper passing from lip to lip. "It's +the bishop!" they said, and some ran before him to open the gate and +some to ring the bell of the great house before which the accident had +occurred. + +Mechanically the bishop thanked them, but he looked at none of +them. His eyes were fixed upon the face that lay against his shoulder, +the blood dripping slowly from a cut on one side of the head. + +The servant who opened the door stared for an instant wonderingly, at +his master with the child in his arms, and at the throng pressing +curiously after them, but the next moment he recovered from his +amazement and, admitting the bishop, politely but firmly shut out the +eager throng that would have entered with him. A lank, rough-haired +dog attempted to slink in at the bishop's heels, but the servant gave +him a kick that made him draw back with a yelp of pain, and he took +refuge under the steps where he remained all night, restless and +miserable, his quick ears yet ever on the alert for a voice or a step +that he knew. + +As the door closed behind the bishop, he exclaimed, + +"Call Mrs. Martin, Brown, and then send for the doctor. This boy was +hurt at our very door." + +Brown promptly obeyed both orders, and Mrs. Martin, the housekeeper, +hastily prepared a room for the unexpected guest. The doctor soon +responded to the summons, but all his efforts failed to restore the +boy to consciousness that day. The bishop watched the child as +anxiously as if it had been one of his own flesh and blood. He had +neither wife nor child, but perhaps all the more for that, his great +heart held love enough and to spare for every child that came in his +way. + +It was near the close of the following day when Tode's eyes slowly +opened and he came back to consciousness, but his eyes wandered about +the strange room and he still lay silent and motionless. The doctor +and the bishop were both beside him at the moment and he glanced from +one face to the other in a vague, doubtful fashion. He asked no +question, however, and soon his eyes again closed wearily, but this +time in sleep, healthful and refreshing, instead of the stupor that +had preceded it, and the doctor turned away with an expression of +satisfaction. + +"He'll pull through now," he said in a low tone. "He's young and full +of vitality--he'll soon be all right." + +The bishop rubbed his hands with satisfaction. "That's well! That's +well!" he exclaimed, heartily. + +The doctor looked at him curiously. "Did you ever see the lad before +you picked him up yesterday?" he asked. + +"No, never," answered the bishop, who naturally had not recognised in +Tode the boy whom he had taken into church that Sunday, weeks before. + +The doctor shook his head as he drove off and muttered to himself, + +"Whoever saw such a man! Who but our bishop would ever think of taking +a little street urchin like that right into his home and treating him +as if he were his own flesh and blood! Well, well, he himself gets +taken in often no doubt in another fashion, but all the same the world +would be the better if there were more like him!" + +And if the doctor's pronouns were a little mixed he himself understood +what he meant, and nobody else had anything to do with the matter. + +The next morning Tode awoke again and this time to a full and lively +consciousness of his surroundings. It was still early and the nurse +was dozing in an easy-chair beside the bed. The boy looked at her +curiously, then he raised himself on his elbow and gazed about him, +but as he did so he became conscious of a dull throbbing pain in one +side of his head and a sick faintness swept over him. It was his first +experience of weakness, and it startled him into a faint groan as his +head fell back on the pillow. + +The sound awoke the nurse, who held a spoonful of medicine to his +lips, saying, + +"Lie still. The doctor says you must not talk at all until he comes." + +"So," thought the boy. "I've got a doctor. Wonder where I am an' what +ails me, anyhow." + +But that strange weakness made it easy to obey orders and lie still +while the nurse bathed his face and hands and freshened up the bed and +the room. Then she brought him a bowl of chicken broth with which she +fed him. It tasted delicious, and he swallowed it hungrily and wished +there had been more. Then as he lay back on the pillows he remembered +all that had happened--the horses running down the street, his attempt +to stop them, and the awful blow on his head as it struck the +curbstone. + +"Wonder where I am? Tain't a hospital, anyhow," he thought. "My! But I +feel nice an' clean an' so--so light, somehow! If only my head wasn't +so sore!" + +No wonder he felt "nice and clean and light somehow," when, for the +first time in his life his body and garments as well as his bed, were +as sweet and fresh as hands could make them. Tode never had minded +dirt. Why should he, when he had been born in it and had grown up +knowing nothing better? Yet, none the less, was this new experience +most delightful to him--so delightful that he didn't care to talk. It +was happiness enough for him, just then, to lie still and enjoy these +new conditions, and so presently he floated off again into sleep--a +sleep full of beautiful dreams from which the low murmur of voices +aroused him, and he opened his eyes to see the nurse and the doctor +looking down at him. + +"Well, my boy," said the doctor, with his fingers on the wrist near +him, "you look better. Feel better too, don't you?" + +Tode gazed at him, wondering who he was and paying no attention to his +question. + +"Doctor," exclaimed the nurse, suddenly, "he hasn't spoken a single +word. Do you suppose he can be deaf and dumb?" + +The bishop entered the room just in time to catch the last words. + +"Deaf and dumb!" he repeated, in a tone of dismay. "Dear me! If the +poor child is deaf and dumb, I shall certainly keep him here until I +can find a better home for him." + +As his eyes rested on the bishop Tode started and uttered a little +inarticulate cry of joy; then, as he understood what the bishop was +saying, a singular expression passed over his face. The doctor, +watching him closely could make nothing of it. + +"He looks as if he knew you, bishop," the doctor said. + +The bishop had taken the boy's rough little hand in his own large, +kindly grasp. + +"No, doctor," he answered, "I don't think I've ever seen him before +yesterday, but we're friends all the same, aren't we, my lad?" and he +smiled down into the grey eyes looking up to him so earnestly and +happily. + +Tode opened his lips to speak, then suddenly remembering, slightly +shook his head while the colour mounted in his pale cheeks. + +"He acts like a deaf mute, certainly," muttered the doctor, and +stepping to the head of the bed he pulled out his watch and held it +first to one and then the other of Tode's ears, but out of his sight. + +Tode's ears were as sharp as a ferret's and his brain was as quick as +his ears. He knew well enough what the doctor was doing but he made no +sign. Were not the bishop's words ringing in his ears? "If the poor +child is deaf and dumb I shall certainly keep him here until I can +find a better home for him." + +There were few things at which the boy would have hesitated to ensure +his staying there. He understood now that he was in the house of the +bishop--"my bishop" he called him in his thought. + +So, naturally enough, it was taken for granted that the boy was deaf +and dumb, for no one imagined the possibility of his pretending to be +so. Tode thought it would be easy to keep up the deception, but at +first he found it very hard. As his strength returned there were so +many questions that he wanted to ask, but he fully believed that if it +were known that he could hear and speak he would be sent away, and +more and more as the days went by he longed to remain where he was. + +As he grew stronger and able to sit up, books and games and pictures +were provided for his amusement, yet still the hours sometimes dragged +somewhat heavily, but it was better when he was well enough to walk +about the house. + +Mrs. Martin, the housekeeper, had first admired the boy's bravery, +then pitied him for his suffering, and had ended by loving him, +because she, too, had a big, kindly heart that was ready to love +anybody who needed her love and service. So, it was with great +satisfaction that she obeyed the bishop's orders, and bought for the +boy a good, serviceable outfit as soon as he was able to walk about +his room. + +She combed out and trimmed his rough, thick hair, and then helped him +dress himself in one of his new suits. As she tied his necktie for him +she looked at him with the greatest satisfaction, saying to herself, + +"Whoever would believe that it was the same boy? If only he could hear +and speak now like other boys, I'd have nothing more to ask for him." + +Then she stooped and kissed him. Tode wriggled uneasily under the +unwonted caress, not quite certain whether or not he liked it--from a +woman. The housekeeper took his hand and led him down the stairs to +the bishop's study. It was a long room containing many books and +easy-chairs and two large desks. At one of these the bishop sat +writing, and over the other bent a short, dark-faced man who wore +glasses. + +"Come in, Mrs. Martin, come in," called the bishop, as he saw her +standing at the open door. "And who is this?" he added, holding out +his hand to the boy. + +"You don't recognize him?" Mrs. Martin asked smiling down on Tode's +smooth head. + +The bishop looked keenly at the boy, then he smiled contentedly and +drew the little fellow to his side. + +"Well, well!" he said, "the clothes we wear do make a great +difference, don't they, Mrs. Martin? He's a fine looking lad. Gibson, +this is the boy I was telling you about." + +The little dark man turned and looked at Tode as the bishop spoke. It +was not a friendly look, and Tode felt it. + +"Ah," replied Mr. Gibson, slowly. "So this is the boy, is it? He was +fortunate to fall into your hands;" and with a sharp, sidelong glance +over his shoulder, Mr. Gibson turned again to his work. + +The bishop drew a great armchair close to his table and gently pushed +Tode into it. Then he brought a big book full of pictures and put it +into the boy's hands. + +"Let him stay here for a while, Mrs. Martin," he said. "I always work +better when there is a child near me--if it's the right sort of a +child," he added, with a smile. + +Mrs. Martin went out, and Tode, with a long, happy breath, leaned back +in the big chair and looked about him at the many books, at the dark +head bent over the desk in the alcove, finally at the noble face of +the bishop intent on his writing. + +This was the beginning of many happy hours for Tode. Perhaps it was +the weakness and languor resulting from his accident that made him +willing to sit quietly a whole morning or afternoon in the study +beside the bishop's table, when, before this, to sit still for half an +hour would have been an almost unendurable penance to him; but there +was another and a far stronger reason in the deep reverential love for +the bishop, that day by day was growing and strengthening into a +passion in his young heart. The boy's heart was like a garden-spot in +which the rich, strong soil lay ready to receive any seed that might +fall upon it. Better seed could not be than that which all +unconsciously this man of God--the bishop--was sowing therein, as day +after day he gave his Master's message to the sick and sinful and +sorrowful souls that came to him for help and comfort. + +It goes without saying that the bishop had small leisure, for many and +heavy were the demands upon his time and thought, but nevertheless he +kept two hours a day sacredly free from all other claims, that he +might give them to any of God's poor or troubled ones who desired to +see him, and believing that Tode could hear nothing that was said, he +often kept the boy with him during these hours. + +Strange and wonderful lessons were those that the little street boy +learned from the consecrated lips of the good bishop--lessons of God's +love to man, and of the loving service that man owes not only to his +God, but to his brother man. Strange, sad lessons too, of sin and +sorrow, and their far-reaching influence on human lives. Tode had not +lived in the streets for nearly fourteen years without learning a +great deal about the sin that is in the world, but never until now, +had he understood and realised the evil of it and the cure for +it. Many a time he longed to ask the bishop some of the questions that +filled his mind, but that he dared not do. + +Among these visitors there came one morning to the study a plainly +dressed lady with a face that Tode liked at the first glance. As she +talked with the bishop, the boy kept his eyes on the book open in his +lap, but he heard all that was said--heard it at first with a startled +surprise that changed into a sick feeling of shame and misery--for the +story to which he listened was this: + +The lady was a Mrs. Russell. The bishop had formerly been her pastor +and she still came to him for help and counsel. She had been much +interested in a boy of sixteen who had been in her class in the +mission school, a boy who was entirely alone in the world. He had +picked up a living in the streets, much as Tode himself had done, and +finally had fallen into bad company and into trouble. + +Mrs. Russell had interested herself in his behalf, and upon her +promise to be responsible for him, he had been delivered over to her +instead of being sent to a reform school. She went to a number of the +smaller dry goods stores and secured promises of employment for the +boy as parcel deliverer. To do this work he must have a tricycle, and +the energetic little lady having found a secondhand one that could be +had for thirty dollars, set herself to secure this sum from several of +her friends. This she had done, and was on her way to buy the tricycle +when she lost her pocketbook. The owner of the tricycle, being anxious +to sell, and having another offer, would not hold it for her, but sold +it to the other customer. The boy, bitterly disappointed, lost hope +and heart, and that night left the place where Mrs. Russell had put +him. Since then she had sought in vain for him, and now, unwilling to +give him up, she had come to ask the bishop's help in the search. + +To all this Tode listened with flushed cheeks and fast-beating heart, +while before his mind flashed a picture of himself, wet, dirty and +ragged, gliding under the feet of the horses on the muddy street, the +missing pocketbook clutched tightly in his hand. Then a second picture +rose before him, and he saw himself crowding the emptied book into +that box on the chapel door of St. Mark's. + +The bishop pulled open a drawer in his desk and took from it a +pocketbook, broken and stained with mud. He handed it to Mrs. Russell, +who looked at him in silent wonder as she saw her own name on the +inside. + +"_How_ did it get into your hands?" she questioned, at last. + +"You would never guess how," the bishop answered. "It was found in the +pastor's box at St. Mark's, and the rector came to me to inquire if I +knew any one of that name. I had not your present address, but have +been intending to look you up as soon as I could find time." + +"I cannot understand it," said Mrs. Russell, carefully examining each +compartment of the book. "Why in the world should the thief have put +the empty pocketbook there, of all places?" + +"Of course he would want to get rid of it," the bishop replied, +thoughtfully, "but that certainly was a strange place in which to put +it." + +"If the thief could know how the loss of that money drove that poor +foolish boy back into sin and misery, he surely would wish he had +never touched it--if he has any conscience left," said Mrs. Russell. +"There is good stuff in that poor boy of mine, and I can't bear to +give him up and leave him to go to ruin." + +The bishop looked at her with a grave smile as he answered: + +"Mrs. Russell, I never yet knew you willing to give up one of your +straying lambs. Like the Master Himself, your big heart always yearns +over the wanderers from the fold. I wonder," he added, "if we couldn't +get one or two newsboys to help in this search. Many of them are very +keen, sharp little fellows, and they'd be as likely as anybody to know +Jack, and to know his whereabouts if he is still in the city. Let me +see--his name is Jack Finney, and he is about fifteen or sixteen now, +isn't he?" + +"Yes, nearly sixteen." + +"Suppose you give me a description of him, Mrs. Russell. I ought to +remember how he looks, but I see so many, you know," the bishop added, +apologetically. + +"Of course you cannot remember all the boys who were in our mission +school," replied Mrs. Russell. "Jack is tall and large, for +fifteen. His hair is sandy, his eyes blue, and, well--his mouth +_is_ rather large. Jack isn't a beauty, and he is rough and rude, +and I'm afraid he often does things that he ought not to do, but only +think what a hard time he has had in the world thus far." + +"Yes," replied the bishop with a sigh, "he _has_ had a hard time, +and it is not to be wondered at that he has gone wrong. Many a boy +does that who has every help toward right living. Well now, +Mrs. Russell, I'll see what I can do to help you in this matter. Your +faith in the boy ought to go far toward keeping him straight if we can +find him." + +The bishop walked to the hall with his visitor. When he came back +Tode sat with his eyes fastened on the open book in his lap, though he +saw it not. + +He did not look up with his usual bright smile when the bishop sat +down beside him. That night he could not eat, and when he went to bed +he could not sleep. + +"Thief! Thief! You're a thief! You're a thief!" + +Over and over and over again these words sounded in Tode's ears. He +had known of course that he was a thief, but he had never +_realised_ it until this day. As he had sat there and listened to +Mrs. Russell's story, he seemed to see clearly how his soul had been +soiled with sin as surely as his body had been with dirt, and even as +now the thought of going back to his former surroundings sickened him, +so the remembrance of the evil that he had known and done, now seemed +horrible to him. It was as if he looked at himself and his past life +through the pure eyes of the bishop--and he hated it all. Dimly he +began to see that there was something that he must do, but what that +something was, he could not as yet determine. He was not willing in +fact to do what his newly awakened conscience told him that he ought +to do. + +In the morning he showed so plainly the effects of his wakeful night, +and of his first moral battle, that the bishop was much concerned. + +He had begun to teach the boy to write that he might communicate with +him in that fashion, but as yet Tode had not progressed far enough to +make communication with him easy, though he was beginning to read +quite readily the bold, clear handwriting of the bishop. + +This morning, the bishop, noting the boy's pale cheeks and heavy eyes, +proposed a walk instead of the writing lesson. Tode was delighted to +go, and the two set off together. Now the boy had an opportunity to +see yet farther into the heart and life of this good, great man. They +went on and on, away from the wide streets and handsome houses, into +the tenement house district, and finally into an old building, where +many families found shelter--such as it was. Up one flight after +another of rickety stairs the bishop led the boy. At last he stopped +and knocked at a door on a dark landing. + +The door was opened by a woman whose eyes looked as if she had +forgotten how to smile, but a light flashed into them at sight of her +visitor. She hurriedly dusted a chair with her apron, and as the +bishop took it he lifted to his knee one of the little ones clinging +to the mother's skirts. There were four little children, but one lay, +pale and motionless on a bed in one corner of the room. + +"She is sick?" inquired the bishop, his voice full of sympathy, as he +looked at the small, wan face. + +The woman's eyes filled with tears. + +"Yes," she answered, "I doubt I'm goin' to lose her, an' I feel I +ought to be glad for her sake--but I can't." She bent over the little +form and kissed the heavy eyelids. + +"Tell me all about it, my daughter," the bishop said, and the woman +poured out her story--the old story of a husband who provided for his +family after a fashion, when he was sober, but left them to starve +when the drink demon possessed him. He had been away now for three +weeks, and there was no money for medicine for the sick child, or food +for the others. + +Before the story was told the bishop's hand was in his pocket and he +held out some money to the woman, saying, + +"Go out and buy what you need. It will be better for you to get it, +than for me to. The breath of air will do you good, and I will see to +the children until you come back." + +She hesitated for a moment, then with a word of thanks, threw a shawl +over her head and was gone. + +The bishop gathered the three older children about him, one on each +knee and the third held close to his side, and told them stories that +held them spellbound until the sick baby began to stir and moan +feebly. Then the bishop arose, and taking the little creature tenderly +in his strong arms, walked back and forth in the small room until the +moaning cry ceased and the child slept. He had just laid it again on +the bed when the mother came back with her arms full of packages. The +look of dull despair was gone from her worn face, and there was a +gleam of hope in her eyes as she hastily prepared the medicine for the +baby, while the bishop eagerly tore open one of the packages, and put +bread into the hands of the other children. + +"God bless you, sir,--an' He will!" the woman said, earnestly, as the +bishop was departing with a promise to come soon again. + +Tode, from his seat in a corner had looked on and listened to all, and +now followed the bishop down to the street, and on until they came to +a big building. The boy did not know then what place it was. Afterward +he learned that it was the poorhouse. + +Among the human driftwood gathered here there was one old man who had +been a cobbler, working at his trade as long as he had strength to do +so. The bishop had known him for a long time before he gave up his +work, and now it was the one delight of the old man's life to have a +visit from the bishop, and knowing this, the latter never failed to +come several times each year. The old cobbler lived on the memory of +these visits through the lonely weeks that followed them, looking +forward to them as the only bright spots in his sorrowful life. + +"You'll pray with me before ye go?" he pleaded on this day when his +visitor arose to leave. + +"Surely," was the quick reply, and the bishop, falling on his knees, +drew Tode down beside him, and the old cobbler, the child and the man +of God, bowed their heads together. + +A great wonder fell upon Tode first, as he listened to that prayer, +and then his heart seemed to melt within him. When he rose from his +knees, he had learned Who and What God is, and what it is to pray, and +though he could not understand how it was, or why--he knew that +henceforth his own life must be wholly different. Something in him +was changed and he was full of a strange happiness as he walked +homeward beside his friend. + +But all in a moment his new joy departed, banished by the remembrance +of that pocketbook. + +"I found it. I picked it up," he argued to himself, but then arose +before him the memory of other things that he had stolen--of many an +evil thing that he had done, and gloried in the doing. Now the +remembrance of these things made him wretched. + +The bishop was to deliver an address that evening, and Tode was alone, +for he did not feel like going to the housekeeper's room. + +He was free to go where he chose about the house, so he wandered from +room to room, and finally to the study. It was dark there, but he felt +his way to his seat beside the bishop's desk, and sitting there in the +dark the boy faced his past and his future; faced, too, a duty that +lay before him--a duty so hard that it seemed to him he never could +perform it, yet he knew he must. It was to tell the bishop how he had +been deceiving him all these weeks. + +Tears were strangers to Tode's eyes, but they flowed down his cheeks +as he sat there in the dark and thought of the happy days he had spent +there, and that now he must go away from it all--away from the +bishop--back to the wretched and miserable life which was all he had +known before. + +"Oh, how _can_ I tell him! How can I tell him!" he sobbed aloud, +with his head on the desk. + +The next moment a strong, wiry hand seized his right ear with a grip +that made him wince, while a voice with a thrill of evil satisfaction +in it, exclaimed in a low, guarded tone, + +"So! I've caught you, you young cheat. I've suspected for some time +that you were pulling the wool over the bishop's eyes, but you were so +plaguy cunning that I couldn't nab you before. You're a fine +specimen, aren't you? What do you think the bishop will say to all +this?" + +Tode had recognised the voice of Mr. Gibson, the secretary. He knew +that the secretary had a way of going about as soft-footed as a +cat. He tried to jerk his ear free, but at that Mr. Gibson gave it +such a tweak that Tode could hardly keep from crying out with the +pain. He did keep from it, however, and the next moment the secretary +let him go, and, striking a match, lit the gas, and then softly closed +the door. + +"Now," he said, coming back to the desk, "what have you to say for +yourself?" + +"Nothing--to you," replied Tode, looking full into the dark face and +cruel eyes of the man. "I'll tell the bishop myself what there is to +tell." + +"Oh, you will, will you?" answered the man, with a sneer. "I reckon +before you get through with your telling you'll wish you'd never been +born. The bishop's the gentlest of men--until he finds that some one +has been trying to deceive him. And you--you whom he picked up out of +the street, you whom he has treated as if you were his own son--I tell +you, boy, you'll think you've been struck by lightning when the bishop +orders you out of his sight. He never forgives deceit like yours." + +Tode's face paled and his lips trembled as he listened, but he would +not give way before his tormentor. + +His silence angered the secretary yet more. "Why don't you speak?" he +exclaimed, sharply. + +"I'll speak to the bishop--not to you," replied the boy, steadily. + +His defiant tone and undaunted look made the secretary furious. He +sprang toward the boy, but Tode was on the watch now, and slipped out +of his chair and round to the other side of the desk, where he stopped +and again faced his enemy, for he knew now that this man was his +enemy, though he could not guess the reason of his enmity. The +secretary took a step forward, but at that Tode sped across the room +out of the door, and up to his own room, the door of which he locked. + +Then he sat down and thought over what had happened, and the more he +thought of it the more certain he felt that what the secretary had +said was true. + +A long, long time the boy sat there, thinking sad and bitter +thoughts. At last, with a heavy sigh, he lifted his head and looked +about the bright, pretty room, as if he would fix it all in his mind +so that he never could forget it, and as he looked at the soft, rich +carpet, the little white bed with its fresh, clean linen, the wide, +roomy washstand and bureau, he seemed at the same time to see the +bare, dirty, cheerless little closet-like room to which he must +return, and his heart ached again. + +At last he started up, searched in his pockets for a piece of paper +and a pencil, and began to write. His paper was a much-crumpled piece +that he had found that morning in the wastebasket, and as yet his +writing and spelling were poor enough, but he knew what he wanted to +express, and this is what he wrote: + + +DEAR BISHOP: + +I hav ben mene and bad i am not def and dum but i acted like i was +caus I thot you wood not kepe me if yu knu I am sory now so i am going +away but i am going to kepe strate and not bee bad any more ever. I +thank you and i lov you deer. + +TODE BRYAN. + + +It took the boy a long time to write this and there were many smudges +and erasures where he had rubbed out and rewritten words. He looked at +it with dissatisfied eyes when it was done, mentally contrasting it +with the neat, beautifully written letters he had so often seen on the +bishop's desk. + +"Can't help it. I can't do no better," he said to himself, with a +sigh. Then he stood for several minutes holding the paper thoughtfully +in his hand. + +"I know," he exclaimed at last, and ran softly down to the study. It +was dark again there and he knew that Mr. Gibson had gone. + +Going to the desk, he found the Bible which the bishop always kept +there. As Tode lifted it the leaves fell apart at one of the bishop's +best-loved chapters, and there the boy laid his letter and closed the +book. He hesitated a moment, and then kneeling down beside the desk, +he laid his face on the cover of the Bible and whispered solemnly, + +"I _will_ keep straight--I will." + +It was nearly nine o'clock when Tode returned to what had been his +room; what would be so no longer. He undressed slowly, and as he took +off each garment he looked at it and touched it lingeringly before he +laid it aside. + +"I b'lieve he'd want me to keep these clothes," he thought, "but I +don't know. Maybe he wouldn't when he finds out how I've been cheatin' +him. Mrs. Martin's burnt up my old ones, an' I've got to have some to +wear, but I'll only take what I must have." + +So, with a sigh, he laid aside his white shirt with its glossy collar +and cuffs, his pretty necktie and handkerchief. He hesitated over the +shoes and stockings, but finally with a shake of the head, those, too, +were laid aside, leaving nothing but one under garment and his jacket, +trousers and cap. + +Then he put out the gas and crept into bed. A little later he heard +Mrs. Martin go up to her room, stopping for a moment to glance into +his and see that he was in bed. Later still, he heard the bishop come +in and go to his room, and soon after the lights were out and all the +house was still. + +Tode lay with wide open eyes until the big hall clock struck +twelve. Then he arose, slipped on his few garments and turned to leave +the room, but suddenly went back and took up a little Testament. + +"He told me to keep it always an' read a bit in it ev'ry day," the boy +thought, as with the little book in his hand he crept silently down +the stairs. They creaked under the light tread of his bare feet as +they never had creaked in the daytime. He crossed the wide hall, +unfastened the door, and passed out into the night. + + + +VI. TODE'S NEW START + + +A chill seemed to strike to Tode's heart as he stood on the stone +steps and looked up to the windows of the room where the bishop was +sleeping, and his eyes were wet as he passed slowly and sorrowfully +out of the gate and turned down the street. Suddenly there was a swift +rush, a quick, joyful bark, and there was Tag, dancing about him, +jumping up to lick his fingers, and altogether almost out of his wits +with joy. + +Tode sat down on the curbstone and hugged his rough, faithful friend, +and if he whispered into the dog's ear some of the grief that made the +hour such a bitter one--Tag was true and trusty: he never told +it. Neither did he tell how, night after night, he had watched beside +the big house into which he had seen his master carried, nor how many +times he had been driven away in the morning by the servants. But +Tag's troubles were over now. He had found his master. + +[Illustration: Adrift Again.] + +"Well, ol' fellow, we can't stay here all night. We must go on," Tode +said at last, and the two walked on together to the house where the +boy had slept before his accident. The outer door was ajar as usual, +and Tode and the dog went up the stairs together. + +Tode tried the door of his room. It was locked on the inside. + +"They've let somebody else have it," he said to himself. "Well, Tag, +we'll have to find some other place. Come on!" + +Once the boy would not have minded sleeping on a grating, or a +doorstep, but now it seemed hard and dreary enough to him. He shivered +with the cold and shrank from going to any of his old haunts where he +would be likely to find some of his acquaintances, homeless street +Arabs, like himself. Finally he found an empty packing box in an +alley, and into this he crept, glad to put his bare feet against Tag's +warm body. But it was a dreary night to him, and weary as he was, he +slept but little. As he lay there looking up at the stars, he thought +much of the new life that he was to live henceforth. He knew very well +that it would be no easy thing for him to live such a life, but +obstacles in his way never deterred Tode from doing, or at least +attempting to do, what he had made up his mind to. He thought much, +too, of the bishop, and these thoughts gave him such a heartache that +he would almost have banished them had he been able to do so--almost, +but not quite, for even with the heartache it was a joy to him to +recall every look of that noble face--every tone of that voice that +seemed to thrill his heart even in the remembrance. + +Then came thoughts of Nan and Little Brother, and these brought +comfort to Tode's sorrowful heart. He had not forgotten Little Brother +during the past weeks. There had never been a day when he had not +thought of the child with a longing desire to see him, though even for +his sake he could hardly have brought himself to lose a day with the +bishop. Now, however, that he had shut himself out forever from what +seemed to him the Paradise of the bishop's home, his thoughts turned +again lovingly toward the little one, and he could hardly wait for +morning, so eager was he to go to him. + +Fortunately for his impatience, he knew that the Hunts and Nan would +be early astir, and at the first possible moment he went in search of +them. He ran up the stairs with Tag at his heels, and almost trembling +with eagerness, knocked at the Hunts' door. Mrs. Hunt herself opened +it, and stared at the boy for a moment before she realised who it was. + +"For the land's sake, if it isn't Tode! Where in the world have you +been all this time?" she cried, holding the door open for him to +enter, while the children gazed wonderingly at him. "I've been +sick--got hurt," replied Tode, his eyes searching eagerly about the +room. "I don't see Nan or Little Brother," he added, uneasily. + +"They don't live here no more," piped up little Ned. + +Tode turned a startled glance upon Mrs. Hunt. + +"Don't live here!" he stammered. "Where do they live?" + +"Not far off; just cross the entry," replied Mrs. Hunt, +quickly. "Nan's taken a room herself." + +"Oh!" cried Tode, in a tone of relief, "I'll go'n see her;" and +waiting for no further words, he went. + +"Well," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt, "he might 'a' told us how he got hurt an' +all, 'fore he rushed off, I should think." + +"Jus' like that Tode Bryan. He don't know nothin'!" remarked Dick, +scornfully. + +His mother gave him a searching glance. "There's worse boys than Tode +Bryan, I'm afraid," she said. + +"There ye go agin, always a flingin' at me," retorted Dick, +rudely. "How's a feller to git on in the world when his own mother's +always down on him?" + +"You know I'm not down on you, Dick," replied his mother, tearfully. + +"You're always a hintin' nowdays, anyhow," muttered Dick, as he +reached over and helped himself to the biggest sausage in the dish. + +Mrs. Hunt sighed but made no answer, and the breakfast was eaten +mostly in silence. + +Meantime, Tode running across the entry, had knocked on the door with +fingers fairly trembling with eagerness and excitement. Nan opening +it, gave a glad cry at sight of him, but the boy, with a nod, pushed +by her, and snatched up Little Brother who was lying on the bed. + +The baby stared at him for an instant and then as Tode hugged him more +roughly than he realised, the little lips trembled and the baby began +to sob. That almost broke Tode's heart. He put the child down, crying +out bitterly, + +"Oh Little Brother, _you_ ain't goin' to turn against me, sure?" + +As he spoke he held out his hands wistfully, and the baby, now getting +a good look at him, recognised his favorite, and with his old smile +held out his arms to the boy, who caught him up again but more gently +this time, and sat down with him on his knee. + +It was some minutes before Tode paid any attention to Nan's questions, +so absorbed was he with the child, but at length he turned to her and +told her where he had been and what had happened to him. She listened +to his story with an eager interest that pleased him. + +"Wasn't it strange," she said, when he paused, "wasn't it strange, and +lovely too, that you should have been taken into the bishop's +house--and kept there all this time? Did you like him just as much in +his home as in the church, Tode?" + +"He's--he's"--began Tode with shining eyes, then as the bishop's face +rose before him, he choked and was silent for a moment. "I don't +b'lieve there's any other man like him in _this_ world," he said, +finally. + +Nan looked at him thoughtfully, at his face that seemed to have been +changed and refined by his sickness and his new associations, at the +neat clothes he wore, then at his bare feet. + +"I shouldn't think, if he's so good, that he would have let you come +away--so," she said, slowly. + +Tode flushed as he tried to hide his feet under his chair. + +"'Twasn't his fault," he answered, quickly. He too was silent for a +moment, then suddenly he sat upright with a look of stern resolve in +his grey eyes, as he added, "Nan, I'll tell you all there is about it, +'cause things are goin' to be diff'runt after this. I'm goin' to live +straight every way, I am; I've--promised." + +Then he told her frankly the whole story; how he had deceived the +bishop, pretending to be deaf and dumb; how Mr. Gibson had come upon +him in the study, and what he had said, and how, finally, he himself +had come away in the night. + +Nan listened to it all with the keenest interest. + +"And you had to sleep out of doors," she said; "I'm so sorry, but, if +the bishop is so good, why didn't you stay and tell him all about it, +Tode? Don't you think that that would have been better than coming +away so without thanking him for all he had done--or anything?" + +Tode shook his head emphatically. "You don't know him, Nan," he +replied. "He's good, oh better than anybody else in the world, I +b'lieve, but don't you see, just 'cause _he's_ so good, he hates +cheatin' an' lyin', just _hates_ 'em; an', oh I _couldn't_ +tell him I'd been cheatin' him all this time, an' he so good to me." + +"I know, 'twould have been awful hard to tell him, Tode, but seems to +me 'twould have been best," the girl insisted. + +"I _couldn't_, Nan," Tode repeated, sadly, then impatiently +thrusting aside his sorrow and remorse, he added, + +"Come now, I want to know what you've been doin' while I've been +gone. I used to think an' think 'bout you'n him," glancing at the +baby, "an' wonder what you'd be doin'." + +"Oh, we've got on all right," answered Nan, "I was worried enough when +you didn't come, 'specially when one of the Hunt boys went down and +found that your stand had not been opened. I was sure something had +happened to you, 'cause I knew you never would stay away from us so, +unless something was the matter." + +"Right you are!" put in Tode, emphatically. + +Nan went on, "I was sure there was something wrong, too, when Tag came +here the next day. Poor fellow, I was so sorry for him. One of his +legs was all swollen and he limped dreadfully, and hungry--why, Tode, +he acted as if he were starving. But just as soon as I had fed him he +went off again, and didn't come back till the next morning, and he's +done that way ever since." + +Tag had kept his bright eyes fastened on Nan's face while she talked, +and he gave a little contented whine as Tode stooped and patted his +head. + +"But tell me what you've ben doin', Nan. How'd you get money enough +to hire this room an' fix it up so dandy?" Tode inquired, looking +about admiringly. + +While Nan talked she had been passing busily from table to stove, and +now she said, "Breakfast is ready, Tode. Bring your chair up here and +give me Little Brother." + +Tode reluctantly gave up the baby, and took his seat opposite Nan at +the little table. + +"You've got things fine," he remarked, glancing at the clean towel +that served for a tablecloth, and the neat white dishes and +well-cooked food. He was hungry enough to do full justice to Nan's +cooking, and the girl watched him with much satisfaction, eating +little herself, but feeding the baby, as she went on with her story. + +"When you didn't come back, I knew I must find some way to sell my +cookies and gingerbread and so I made some fresh and went to every +family in this house and asked 'em if they would buy their bread and +all of me instead of at the bakeshops. I told 'em I'd sell at the same +price as the shops and give them better things. Some wouldn't, but +most of them had sense enough to see that it would be a good thing for +them, and after they'd tried it once or twice they were ready enough +to keep on. Now I supply this house and the next one. It keeps me +cooking all day, but I don't mind that. I'm only too glad that I can +earn our living--Little Brother's and mine. Of course, I couldn't be +cooking all day on Mrs. Hunt's stove, and besides they have no room to +spare and we crowded 'em, and so, as soon as I got money enough, I +hired this room. I'm paying for the furniture as fast as I can. It was +all secondhand, of course." + +Tode looked admiringly at the girl, as she ceased speaking. + +"You've got a head," he remarked. "But now about cooking for my +stand. Will you have time to do that too?" + +"Yes indeed," replied Nan, promptly. "I'll find time somehow." + +Tode hesitated, moved uneasily in his chair and finally said, "'Spect +you'll have to trust me for the first lot, Nan. I ain't got no money, +ye know." + +"Why, Tode, have you forgotten that ten dollars you asked me to keep +for you?" + +"No--'course I ain't forgot it, but I thought maybe you'd had to use +it. Twould 'a' been all right if you had, you know." + +"Oh no, I didn't have to use that. Here it is," and Nan brought it out +from some hidden pocket about her dress. + +"Then I'm all right," exclaimed the boy, in a tone of +satisfaction. "I've got to get some clothes first an' then I'll be +ready for business." + +"What's the matter with those clothes?" questioned Nan. + +"Oh, I've got to send these back to the bishop." Tode's face was grave +as he spoke. + +"But--I don't see why. He won't want em," Nan remonstrated. + +"It's this way, Nan." Tode spoke very earnestly. "If I'd been what he +thought I was, I know I could have kept all he gave me, but, you see, +if he'd known I was cheatin' an' lyin' to him all the time he wouldn't +'a' given me a single thing, so don't ye see, I ain't no business to +keep 'em, an' I ain't goin' to keep 'em a minute longer'n I have to." + +Nan shook her head, for Tode's reasoning had not convinced her, but +seeing how strong was his feeling in the matter she said no more, and +in a few minutes the boy went out, his face radiant with satisfaction, +because Little Brother cried after him. + +He invested half his ten dollars in some second-hand clothes, +including shoes and stockings. They were not very satisfactory after +the garments he had been wearing of late, but he said to himself, +"They'll have to do till I can get better ones an' sometime I'm agoin' +to have some shirts an' have 'em washed every week, too." + +Tode's trade, that day, was not very heavy, for it was not yet known +among his regular customers that he had reopened his stand, but he +took care to advertise the fact through those whom he met and he did +not fear but that his business would soon be prospering again. + +That afternoon he succeeded in securing a tiny room in the house with +Nan. It was a dismal little closet, lighted only from the hall, but it +was the best he could do, and Tode considered himself fortunate to +have his dark corner to himself, even though a broken chair and a +canvas cot without bedding of any sort were all the furniture he could +put into it then. Nan shook her head doubtfully when he showed her the +room. + +"Dark and dirty," she said, with a sniff of disgust, as the boy threw +open the door. "You must get somebody to scrub it for you, Tode, and +then whitewash the walls. That will make it sweeter and lighter." + +"So it will," responded the boy, promptly, "but I'll have to do the +scrubbin' an' white-washin' both, myself." + +Nan looked at him doubtfully. "I wonder if you'd get it clean," she +said. "Scrubbing's hard work." + +"You'll see. What'll I scrub it with--a broom?" + +"You ought to have a scrub-brush, but I haven't any. You'll have to do +it with an old broom and a cloth. I can let you have the broom and I +guess we can get a cloth of Mrs. Hunt. You going to do it now?" she +added, as Tode began to pull off his coat. + +"Right now," he answered. "You see, Nan, I've got loads of things to +do, an' I can't be wastin' time." + +"What things?" questioned Nan, curiously. + +"Oh--I'll tell you about them after awhile," replied the boy. "The +broom in your room?" + +"Yes, I'll bring it to you," and Nan hurried off. + +She came back with an old pail full of hot water, a piece of soap, a +broom and a cloth, and then she proceeded to show Tode how to clean +the woodwork and floor, thoroughly, with special attention to the dark +corners which looked, indeed, as if they had never been visited by a +broom. Nan was a thorough little housewife, and she longed to do the +whole work herself, but Tode would not allow that, so she could only +stand and look on, wondering inwardly how a boy could handle a broom +so awkwardly. But if he was slow and awkward about it, Tode was in +earnest, and he looked with much satisfaction at the result of his +labor when it was completed. + +"You'll have to wash the floor again after you've whitewashed the +walls," Nan said, "but it needed two scrubbings, anyhow." + +Tode looked at it ruefully. "Oh, did it?" he said. "I think one such +scrubbing as that ought to last it a year." + +Nan laughed. "If you'll carry out my bread and things to-morrow, I'll +do your whitewashing for you," she said. + +But Tode shook his head. "I'll carry out your stuff all right," he +answered, "but I ain't a-goin' to have a girl doin' my work for me." + +He bought the lime and paid also for the use of a pail and brush, and +the next day he put a white coat on his walls, and when this was done, +he was much better satisfied with his quarters. Nan offered to lend +him her shawl in place of a blanket, but he guessed that she needed it +herself and refused her offer. + + + +VII. AFTER TODE'S DEPARTURE + + +In the bishop's household, Mrs. Martin was always one of the earliest +to rise in the morning, and just as Tode sat down to breakfast with +Nan and Little Brother, the housekeeper was going downstairs. Tode's +door stood open and she saw that he was not in the room. Her quick +eyes noted also the pile of neatly folded garments on a chair beside +the bed. She stepped into the room and looked around. Then she hurried +to the study, knowing that the boy loved to stay there, but the study +was unoccupied. + +By the time breakfast was ready she knew that the boy had left the +house, but the bishop refused to believe it, nor would he be convinced +until the house had been searched from attic to cellar. When +Mr. Gibson made his appearance, a gleam of satisfaction shone in his +narrow eyes as he learned of Tode's disappearance. + +"I was afraid something like this would happen," he remarked, +gravely. "It's a hopeless kind of business, trying to make anything +out of such material. I've had my suspicions of that boy for some +time." + +"Don't be too quick to condemn him, Mr. Gibson," exclaimed the +bishop, hastily. "He may have had some good reason for going away +so. I've no doubt he thought he had, but I had grown to love the lad +and I shall miss him sadly." + +"Did you never suspect that he was not deaf and dumb, as he pretended +to be?" the secretary asked. + +The bishop looked up quickly. "Why, no, indeed, I never had such an +idea," he answered. An unpleasant smile flickered over the +secretary's thin lips as he went on, "I heard the boy talking to +himself, here in this room, last evening. He can hear and speak as +well as you or I." + +"Oh, I am sorry! I am sorry!" said the bishop, sadly, and then he +turned to his desk, and sitting down, hid his face in his hands, and +was silent. The secretary cast more than one swift, sidewise glance at +him, but dared say no more then. + +After a while the bishop drew his Bible toward him. It opened at the +fourteenth chapter of John, and there lay Tode's poor little soiled +and blotted note. The bishop read it with tear-dimmed eyes, read it +again and again, and finally slipped it into an envelope, and replaced +it between the leaves of his Bible. He said nothing about it to his +secretary, and presently he went to his own room, where for a long +time he walked back and forth, thinking about the boy, and how he +might find him again. + +Then Brown came to him with a telegram summoning him to the sickbed of +his only sister, and within an hour he left the city, and was absent +two weeks. + +Meantime Tode, the morning after his scrubbing and whitewashing +operations, had carefully folded the clothes he had worn when he left +the bishop's house and tied them up in an old newspaper. Into one of +the pockets of the jacket he had put a note which ran thus: + + +DEAR MRS. MARTIN: + +Pleas giv thes cloes to the bishop and tell him i wud not have took +them away if i had had any others. I did not take shoes or stockins. +I keep the littel testament and i read in it evry day. Tell him i am +trying to be good and when i get good enuf I shall go and see him. You +was good to me but he was so good that he made me hate myself and +evrything bad. I can never be bad again while i remember him. + +TODE BRYAN. + + +He hired a boy whom he knew, to carry the bundle to the bishop's +house, and from behind a tree-box further down the street, he watched +and saw it taken in by Brown. The boy's heart was beating hard and +fast, as he stood there longing, yet dreading, to see the bishop +himself come out of the house. But the bishop was far away, and Tode +walked sadly homeward, casting many a wistful, lingering glance +backward, as he went. + +Brown carried the package gingerly to Mrs. Martin, for the boy who +had delivered it was not over clean, and Mrs. Martin opened it with +some suspicion, but when she saw the clothes she recognised them +instantly, and finding the note in the pocket read it with wet eyes. + +"I knew that wasn't a bad boy," she said to herself, "and this proves +it. He's as honest as the day, or he wouldn't have sent back these +clothes--the poor little fellow. Well, well! I hope the bishop can +find him when he gets back, and as to the boy's pretending to be deaf +and dumb, I'm sure there was something underneath that if we only knew +it. Anyhow, I do hope I'll see the little fellow again sometime." + +When the bishop returned the accumulated work of his weeks of absence +so pressed upon him that for a while he had no time for anything else, +and when at last he was free to search for Tode, he could find no +trace of him. + +As for Tode, he had never once thought of the possibility of the +bishop's searching for him. He looked forward to seeing his friend +again sometime, but that time he put far away when he himself should +be "more fit," as he said to himself. + +One evening soon after his return, Nan had a long talk with him, a +talk that left her wondering greatly at the change in his thoughts and +purposes, and which made her regard him with quite a new feeling of +respect. + +"Nan," he began, "I told you I'd got loads of things to do now." + +"Yes?" The girl looked at him inquiringly. + +Tode was silent for a little. It was harder for him to speak than he +had thought it would be. + +"You see," he went on, slowly, "I've been mean as dirt all my +life. You don't know what mean things I've done, an' I ain't goin' to +tell ye, only that I know now I've got to turn straight around an' not +do 'em any more. I've got to make a man of myself," he drew himself up +as he spoke, "a real man--the kind that helps other folks up. I can't +say just what I mean, but I feel it myself," he added, with a +half-appealing glance at Nan. + +She had listened attentively with her eyes fastened on his earnest +face. Now she said softly, "You mean--you want to be the kind of man +the bishop is, don't you?" + +"Oh, I couldn't ever be _really_ like him," protested the boy, +quickly, "but, well, I'm goin' to try to be a sort of shadow of him. I +mean I'm goin' to try to amount to something myself, an' do what I can +to help other poor fellers up instead of down. I'm goin' to lend a +hand 'mongst the folks 'round here, just a little you know, as he does +'mongst the poor people he goes to see. But I've got some other +things to do too. I've got some money to pay back, an' I've got to +find a feller that I helped to pull down." + +And thereupon, Tode told the story of Mrs. Russell's pocketbook and +her search for Jack Finney. He told it all quite frankly, not trying +in the least to excuse or lessen his own guilt in the matter. + +"It will take you a long time to save up so much money, Tode," Nan +said when he paused. + +"Yes, unless I can find some way to earn more, but I can't help +that. I'll do the best I can, an' I've got some notions in my head." + +He talked over with her some of his plans and projects, and as she +listened, she thought to herself, "He's getting 'way ahead of me, but +I'm afraid he'll get into trouble at first." + +And she was not mistaken. Tode was now so thoroughly in earnest +himself that he forgot to take into consideration the fact that those +whom he meant to help up might prefer to be left to go down in their +own fashion. His old associates speedily discovered that a great +change had come over Tode Bryan, and the change did not meet with +their approval. They called it "mighty cheeky" of him to be "pokin' +his nose" into their affairs, and they would show him that he'd better +stop it. So Tode soon found himself exceedingly unpopular, and, what +was worse, in a way, under a boycott that threatened to ruin his +business. + +He fell into the way of carrying his trials and perplexities to Nan, +and talking them over with her. She had plenty of that common sense, +which is not very common after all, and she often made him see the +reason of his failures, while at the same time he was sure of her +sympathy. + +One evening Tode appeared in her room with his little Testament in his +hand. There was a perplexed expression in his eyes as he said, "Nan, +'bout readin' this, you know--I've been peggin' away at the first +part, an' I can't make nothin' of it. It's just a string of funny +words, names, I s'pose. _I_ don't see no sense to it." + +Nan glanced at the page to which he had opened. It was the first +chapter of Matthew. + +"Oh, that's all it is, just a lot of names. You can skip all that, +Tode," she answered, easily. + +"No I can't, neither," replied the boy, decidedly. "If I begin to +skip, no knowin' where I'll stop. If it's readin' this book that makes +folks good, I've got to know all 'bout it. Say, can't you read this +with me an' tell me how to call all these jawbreakers?" + +Nan looked rather shocked at the boy's free and easy reference to the +Book, but seeing from his grave face and serious manner that he was +very much in earnest, she sat down with him, and the two young heads +bent over the page together. + +"I remember reading this chapter with mother," Nan said, gently, "and +she told me how to pronounce these names, but I can't remember all of +them now. I'll do the best I can, though," and she read slowly the +first seventeen verses, Tode repeating each name after her. + +"Whew!" he exclaimed, in a tone of intense relief, when the task was +ended, "that's 'bout the toughest job ever I tackled." + +"Well, you see, you needn't read all that again. The rest of the +chapter is different. It's all about Jesus," Nan said. + +Tode read the remaining verses slowly by himself, but he shook his +head in a dissatisfied way as he closed the book. "That's easier than +the names to read, but I don't seem to get much out of it. Guess I'm +too thick-headed," he said, in a discouraged tone. + +"Tode," exclaimed Nan, suddenly, "you ought to go to some +Sunday-school. Then you'd learn all about the Bible and the things you +want to know." + +"Might be a good scheme, that's a fact," he answered, +thoughtfully. "Reckon I'll try it on anyhow, an' see how it works." + +"Yes, do. I always used to go before mother was sick. If you have a +good teacher you'll like it, I'm sure." + +"There's a mission school down near my stand. I'll have a try at it +next Sunday an' see what it's like," Tode said. + +So the very next day he went to the mission chapel, and, from the +notice on the door, found out the hours of service, and the following +Sunday he was on hand in due season. As he went somewhat doubtfully up +the steps, he saw in the vestibule a young man, who stepped forward +and held out his hand, saying cordially, + +"Glad to see you here. Are you a stranger?" + +Tode wasn't quite sure what a stranger might be, but he muttered, "I +ain't never been here before." + +"Then I'm glad I happened to meet you. Will you come into my class?" + +Tode nodded and followed the young man into the chapel, which was +already nearly full of boys and girls. + +"My name is Scott. What is yours?" inquired the stranger, as he led +the way to his own corner of the room. + +Tode gave his name, and Mr. Scott introduced him to half a dozen boys +who had already taken their places in his class. One of these boys was +Dick Hunt. He gave Tode a careless nod by way of greeting, as the +latter dropped into the seat next him. + +To Tode's great satisfaction the lesson chanced to be on the birth of +the Lord Jesus, and Mr. Scott told the boys the whole story so clearly +and vividly, that Tode at least was intensely interested. It was all +new and fresh to him, and he was listening eagerly to every word, when +suddenly Dick Hunt ran a long pin deep into his leg. The pain made +him start and almost cry out, but he suppressed the cry as he turned +and gave Dick a savage pinch that made him writhe, as he exclaimed in +a threatening tone, "You stop that!" + +Mr. Scott turned grave, inquiring eyes on the two, as he asked: + +"What's the matter, Dick?" + +"He's a pinchin' me--Tode Bryan is. He give me an awful tweak when you +wasn't a lookin'." + +"Is that so?" Mr. Scott asked, and Tode, with a scornfully defiant +glance at Dick, answered promptly, "Yes." + +"I am sorry, Tode," said Mr. Scott; "you can sit here on the other +side." + +Tode's face flushed a little as he changed his seat, but now another +of the boys, having a grudge against Dick, cried out, + +"Hunt stuck a pin in him first; I seen him do it." + +"You hush up!" muttered Dick, with a scowl. + +Just then the superintendent's bell sounded and the lesson time was +over. + +When the school was dismissed, Mr. Scott detained Tode. + +"Why didn't you tell me that Dick had stuck a pin into you first," the +teacher asked, rapidly turning the leaves of his Bible as he spoke. + +"I ain't a sneak like he is," answered Tode, briefly. + +Mr. Scott found the place that he wanted, and keeping his finger +between the leaves, looked thoughtfully at the boy before him. + +"You told me that your name is Tode. That is what the boys call +you. It isn't your real name, is it?" he asked, with a friendly look. + +Tode puckered his forehead into a puzzled frown at the question. + +"N-no," he answered, slowly. "There's some more to it, but I can't +think what 'tis. Wish't I could." + +"You've no father or mother?" + +"No--never had none since I's big enough to know anything," was the +careless reply. + +Mr. Scott laid his hand kindly on the lad's shoulder. + +"My boy," he said, slowly and earnestly, "I believe yours is a very +beautiful name. It must be Theodore." + +"That's it! That's it!" exclaimed Tode, excitedly. "I 'member +somebody told it to me once, an' I know that's it. How'd you know it +so quick?" He looked up wonderingly into his teacher's face as he +asked the question. + +"I once knew another Theodore who was nicknamed Tode; but, my boy, do +you know what your name means?" + +Tode shook his head. "Didn't know names meant anything," he answered. + +"But they do. Theodore means the gift of God. A boy with such a name +as that ought to count for something in the world." + +"I mean to." The boy uttered the words slowly and emphatically. + +Mr. Scott's face brightened. "Do you mean that you love and serve the +Lord Jesus, Theodore?" he asked, softly. + +The boy shook his head half sadly, half perplexedly. + +"I don't know nothin' much 'bout Him," he answered, with a gentleness +most strange and unusual in him, "but I've promised to do the right +thing every time now--an' I'm a-goin' to do it." + +"You have promised--whom, Theodore?" + +"Promised myself--but I don't know nothin' much 'bout what is the +right thing," he added, in a discouraged tone. + +"You'll soon learn if you're in earnest, my boy. This Book will tell +you all you need to know. Can you read?" + +"Some." + +"Then read this verse for me, will you?" Mr. Scott held out his Bible +and pointed to the verse. + +Slowly and stumblingly the boy read, "Dearly beloved, avenge not +yourselves," and again, + +"Recompense to no man evil for evil." + +Seeing that Tode did not understand the meaning of what he had read, +Mr. Scott explained the passages to him. The boy listened attentively, +then he exclaimed in a tone of dismay, + +"But does it mean that a feller can't never strike back?" + +"That's what it says." + +Tode pondered this unpalatable statement with a clouded face. + +"But what ye goin' to do when some other feller cuts up rough with +ye?" + +"Find some other way to get even with him." + +"But I don't see--what other way is there 'cept hittin' him a harder +one'n he gives you?" + +Mr. Scott opened his Bible again and pointed to the last two verses of +the twelfth chapter of Romans. + +Tode went home that day with his mind in a tumult. These new ideas did +not suit him at all. A "word and a blow," and the blow first had been +his method of settling such questions heretofore, and it seemed to him +far the better way. + +He took a roundabout route home, for he did not want to see Nan until +he had thought out this matter to his own satisfaction. To help people +poorer or weaker than himself, or to "keep straight" himself, and help +others to do likewise--this was one thing. To meekly submit to ill +treatment and "take a blow" from a fellow whom he "could whip with his +little finger"--this was quite another and, to one of Tode's +temperament, a far more distasteful thing. + +The boy had reached no conclusion when he finally went home to +supper. He was silent and thoughtful all the evening, but it was not +until the following day that he spoke of the matter to Nan. + +Nan listened in perplexed silence to what he had to say. She had been +well taught while her mother lived, but she had never given these +subjects any real, deep thought, as Tode was doing now. She began to +feel that this rough, untaught street boy was likely to get far ahead +of her if he should keep on pondering over questions like this. Even +now she could give him but little help. + +Seeing this, Tode took up his Testament again, and read on and on +until he had finished the book of Matthew, and gained a pretty clear +idea of the life and death of Jesus the Christ. There was much, of +course, that he did not understand at all. Many of the words and +expressions conveyed no meaning to him, but yet he gathered enough to +understand, in a measure, what that Life was, and he began dimly to +realise why the bishop gave so much of his time and thought to God's +poor. The boy pondered these things in his heart, and a new world +seemed to open before him. + +"Nan," he said at last, "I've found out what my real name is. It's +Theodore." + +"Theodore," repeated the girl. "Well, I'm glad to know it, for I never +did like to call you Tode. How did you find out?" + +"Mr. Scott said it to me, and I knew as soon as I heard it that that +was it." + +"Then I won't ever call you Tode again. I shall call you Theo. I like +that." + +The boy liked it too. It gave him a strange thrill of pleasure every +time he thought of what Mr. Scott had said about the meaning of his +name. + + + +VIII. THEO'S SHADOW WORK + + +The days that followed were very busy ones for both Nan and Theo. The +girl spent most of her time over the stove or the moulding board, and +the boy, delivering the supplies to many of the families in the two +big tenement houses, attending to his stand, and selling evening +papers, found the days hardly long enough for all that he wanted to +do. + +As he went from room to room with Nan's bread and soup and +gingerbread, he soon learned much about the different families and +found plenty of opportunities to serve as the "bishop's shadow," in +these poor homes. Money he had not to give, for every penny that he +could possibly spare was laid aside for a special purpose now, but he +found countless ways to carry help and sunshine to sad and sore +hearts, without money. + +One morning he left Nan's room with a basket piled with bread--brown +and white--in one hand, and a big tin pail full of boiled hominy in +the other. He went first to the top floor, stopping at one door after +another, where dirty, frowzy women and children opened at the sound of +his cheery whistle. He handed in the loaves, or the measures of hominy +with a gay word or a joke that more than once banished a frown from a +woman's worn face, or checked the tears of a tired, hungry +child. Children were getting to be fond of the boy now, and he liked +it. + +In one room there were two families and half a dozen children. In one +corner, on a rickety couch was a crippled boy, who had lain there day +after day, through long, weary months. He was listening intently for +that whistle outside the door, and when he heard it, his dull eyes +brightened, and he called out eagerly, + +"Oh, tell him to come in a minute--_just_ a minute!" + +The woman who opened the door, said indifferently, "Tommy wants you to +come in a minute." + +Theo stepped over to the tumbled couch, and smiled down into the +wistful eyes of the sick boy. + +"Hello, old man!" he said, cheerily. "I've brought you something," and +out of his pocket he pulled a golden chrysanthemum that he had picked +up in the street the day before, and had kept all night in water. It +was not very fresh now, but Tommy snatched it hungrily, and gazed at +it with a happy smile. + +"Oh, how pretty--how pretty it is!" he cried, softly smoothing the +golden petals with his little bony forefinger. "Can I keep it, truly?" + +[Illustration: "Oh, how pretty,--how pretty it is!"] + +"'Course. I brought it for you," Theo answered, his round, freckled +face reflecting the boy's delight. "But I must scoot. Folks'll be +rowin' me if their bread's late." + +He ran off leaving the sick boy with the flower held lovingly against +his thin white cheek, while his eyes followed wistfully Theo's strong, +active figure as he hurried away. + +On the next floor, an old woman, bent and stiffened by rheumatism, sat +alone all day, while her children were away at work. She could not get +out of her chair, or help herself in any way. Her breakfast would be +a penny's worth of Nan's hominy, but on this morning her children had +gone off without even setting out a dish, or a cup of water for her. + +Tode brought her a saucer and spoon, filled a cup with fresh water +from the faucet, and pulled up the curtain so that the sunlight would +shine in upon her. + +"There, old lady," he said, brightly, when this was done, "now you're +all right, an' I'll be in again an' fix your dinner for ye." + +The old woman's dim eyes looked after him, and she muttered a word of +thanks as she turned slowly to her breakfast. + +The boy wasted no minutes, for he had none to spare, but even when he +did not step inside a door at all, he always had a smile or a bright +word ready for each customer, and in lives where sin or grinding +poverty has destroyed all hope, and life has become simply dull, +dogged endurance of suffering, a cheerful word or smile has a +wonderful power. These wretched women and forlorn little children had +already begun to look forward to the coming of the "bread boy," as the +little ones called him, as a bright spot in their days. In almost +every room he managed to leave a hint of cheer behind him, or at least +to lighten a little the cloudy atmosphere. + +His pail and basket empty, he ran back to Nan's room for his own +supplies, and having opened his stand he served his customers, taking +his own breakfast between whiles, as he had opportunity. He sold the +morning papers, too, at his stand, and between twelve and one o'clock +he was as busy as a boy could well be. After that hour few customers +appeared, and then, having made his midday meal from whatever he had +left, he closed his stand and went home. + +Then was his time for a little more of what Nan called his "shadow +work," when he refilled with fresh water the cup of the rheumatic old +woman, or carried her a cup of tea that Nan had made for her, adding +to it, perhaps, a cooky or a sandwich that remained from his stock. Or +he glanced into a room where two or three children were locked in all +day while the mothers were away at work--and attended to the fire for +them. Often he found time for a five minutes' chat with crippled +Tommy, and now and then he walked awhile with a sick baby in his arms +as he had seen the bishop do that day long before. They were all +little things that the boy did, but as he kept on doing them day after +day, he found in this service for others such happiness as he never +had known before. + +Tommy's delight in the half-withered chrysanthemum set Theo to +thinking, and the result of his thinking was that he began to frequent +the flower stalls and pick up the broken blossoms that were +occasionally thrown aside there. + +One day a woman who was selling flowers, said to him, "Say, boy, what +do you do with the flowers you pick up? I've seen you 'round here +after 'em lots o' times lately." + +"Give 'em to sick folks an' poor ones that can't get out anywheres," +replied the boy, promptly. + +The woman searched his face to see if he were deceiving her, but there +was nothing sly or underhanded in the clear eyes that returned her +gaze so frankly. + +"Hm-m," she murmured, thoughtfully. "What do you do Saturday nights, +boy?" + +"Nothin' much, after I've sold out my papers." + +"Well, Saturday night's our busy time here; one of our busy times, +that is, an' if you want to come 'round an' help for an hour or two, +I'll pay you in the flowers that are left over." + +Theo's eyes brightened, but he was shrewd, and was not going to bind +himself to an agreement that might not be satisfactory. + +"I'll come next Sat'day an' try it," he said. + +"All right," and the woman turned to a customer. + +Theo was on hand promptly the next Saturday evening. He found that the +flower woman wanted him to carry home pots of growing plants for lady +purchasers. He was kept busy until nine o'clock, and received in +payment a good-sized basket full of violets, roses, heliotrope and +carnations. Some had short stems, and some were a little wilted, but +the boy was well content with his pay. + +"Most of them will freshen up and look bright as ever if you put them +to-night in a pail of water where they'll have plenty of room," the +woman said; "and here--this is for good luck," and she handed him a +little pot of geranium with a cluster of pink blossoms. + +That brought a smile of genuine delight to the boy's face. + +"Oh!" he cried, "that's dandy! I'll give it to Nan." + +"And who's Nan--your sister?" questioned the woman. + +"N--no, not quite. Guess she's as good's my sister, though. Shall I +come next Sat'day, ma'am?" replied the boy. + +"Yes, come next Saturday, an' right along, if you keep on doing as +well's you've done to-night." + +Theo almost ran home, so eager was he to show Nan his treasures. He +had never cared very much for flowers himself, but he was beginning +now to realise their value to others, and he was sure that Nan would +be delighted with the geranium. + +He was not disappointed. The girl's eyes sparkled at sight of the +delicate pink blossoms and she thanked him so heartily that he could +only mutter, "Oh, shucks! 'Tain't nothin' much." + +Then he showed her his basket of cut flowers, and she exclaimed +delightedly over them as she lifted them out as tenderly as if they +had been alive, and placed them carefully in a pail of fresh water in +which she had sprinkled a little salt. + +"Mother used to put salt in the water to keep flowers fresh," she +said, "and oh, won't it be _lovely_ to carry these around to the +shut-ins, tomorrow, Theo! I think Mrs. Hunt would like some," she +added. + +"All right. Pick out what you like an' take 'em in to her now." + +Nan selected some of the freshest blossoms and went across with them +to her neighbour, leaving Theo with the baby, who was asleep. She was +gone some time, and when she returned her face was grave. + +"What's the matter? Didn't she like 'em?" asked the boy. + +"Yes, indeed, she was ever so pleased with them, and told me to thank +you for sending them to her--but, Theo, she's worrying so over Dick. +She thinks he's going all wrong." + +"So he is," answered Theo, soberly. + +"And can't you do anything about it?" + +"Don't see's I can. He's in with a mean lot o' fellers, 'n he's no +good anyhow, nowadays." + +"But there must be some good in him. His father and mother are so +good," pleaded Nan. + +"Mrs. Hunt was crying when I went in. She says Dick often stays out +till midnight or after now, and she's afraid he'll be locked up." + +"Serve him right if he was," muttered Theo, under his breath. + +"He's lost the place his father got for him," added Nan. + +"'Course. Nobody'd keep such a feller long." + +Nan shook her head sorrowfully, thinking of Dick's mother. Theo said +no more, and soon left the room. Nan thought he had gone to bed, but +instead, he went out and walked slowly and somewhat doubtfully toward +a saloon which he had seen Dick enter more than once of late. Theo, +himself, used to go there, but he had not been near the place for many +a week. He did not want to go in now, and he waited about outside, +wishing that Dick would come out, and yet uncertain what to do if he +did come. Finally he pushed open the door and went up the stairs. A +dozen or so boys were there, many of whom he knew, and among them was +Dick. The proprietor of the place gave the boy a warm welcome, and +some of the boys greeted him gaily, but Dick scowled as Theo sat down +beside him. + +He waited until the loud talk began again, then he said in a low tone, +"Dick, I came after you. Will you go home with me now? Your mother's +frettin'." + +Dick's face darkened angrily. + +"Who made you boss over me?" he shouted, springing from his seat with +a threatening gesture. "You mind your own business, will you?" + +Theo's cheeks flushed as every face in the room was turned toward him. + +"What's the row?" + +"What's he doin'?" + +"What does he want?" + +"Put him out! Put him out!" + +These shouts and others mingled with oaths as all crowded about the +two boys. + +"There's no row, an' nothin' to get mad about," said Theo, trying to +speak quietly. "Dick's mother's frettin', an' I asked him to go home +with me. That's all there is about it." + +"An' enough it is too," exclaimed one of the boys. "Dick's big enough +to know when to go home, ain't he?" + +"What's he got to do with me or my mother?" growled Dick, "I'll go +home when I get good an' ready, an' not before." + +"An' it's time for _you_ to go home now!" exclaimed the +proprietor of the place, elbowing his way to the front of the group, +and addressing Theo. "We don't want none o' your sort around here. Now +clear out--d'ye hear?" + +Seeing that it was useless to stay longer, Theo departed, followed by +taunting cries and yells, from all in the room. + +He went gloomily homeward, telling himself that he had been a fool to +try to do anything for Dick Hunt. Dick was "no good anyhow." But, as +he passed her door, Mrs. Hunt opened it and peered anxiously out. Her +eyes were red and swollen, and she turned back with a disappointed air +as she saw Theo. The next moment however, she stepped out into the +hall, pushing the door to behind her. + +"Tode," she whispered, "do you know where my Dick is?" + +The boy answered reluctantly, "He's down at Todd's." + +Mrs. Hunt put her apron to her eyes and sobbed softly. "Oh, dear," she +moaned, "his father's gone to look for him, an' if he finds him there +he'll most kill him--he's that mad with the boy for the way he's been +goin' on lately." + +Theo stood silent, not knowing what to say, and then Mrs. Hunt turned +back into the room while he went up another flight to his. He had just +reached his own door when he heard loud, angry voices accompanied by +scuffling sounds on the stairs below, and he knew that Mr. Hunt had +found Dick, and was bringing him home. + +After Theodore had gone out, Nan had put all the flowers into two big +dishes with plenty of water, and the next morning she was up early and +separated them, putting together two or three pinks or a rose with its +buds and a bit of foliage, or a cluster of geranium blossoms and green +leaves. + +When Theo came for them she laid the small clusters carefully in a +basket, and sprinkled them with fresh water, then as she stooped and +buried her face among the fragrant, beautiful things she exclaimed, + +"Oh Theo, I wish I had time to go with you, and see how happy you make +them all with these beautiful, lovely flowers." + +"I'll begin with you," laughed the boy. "Pick out the ones you like +best." + +But Nan put her hands resolutely behind her and shook her head. + +"No, I'm not sick and I've had the pleasure of seeing them all, and +fixing them, beside my pot of geranium. That's plenty for me." + +Theodore looked critically at her, then at the blossoms; then he +picked out three delicate pink carnations. + +"No, no! Please don't, Theo," began the girl, but with a laughing +glance at her, Theodore laid the blossoms in Little Brother's small +white fingers, and hurried away. + +He went first to Tommy O'Brien's room. The sick boy's weary face +brightened at sight of him, but it fairly beamed when Theodore held up +the basket saying, "Choose any one of 'em Tommy--the very prettiest of +all." + +"O-oh!" cried Tommy. "I never saw so many. Oh, Theo, where did you get +'em all?" + +Theo told him while the woman and the children crowded about the +basket to see and exclaim over the contents. + +Tommy chose a spray of lily of the valley and Theo added a pink rose +and bud. Then he gave a blossom to each of the children and to their +mothers as well, and went away leaving softened faces and smiles in +place of frowns and sullen words. + +The old woman whose breakfast was so often forgotten was not alone +to-day. Her daughters were at home, but they were not paying much +attention to her. At first she peered stupidly with her half-blind +eyes into Theo's basket, then suddenly she cried out, + +"Oh, I smell 'em! I smell vi'lets. Where be they? Where be they?" + +There was one little bunch of violets in the basket. Theo snatched it +up and laid it in the wrinkled, trembling hands. The old woman held +the blossoms against her withered cheek, then she pressed them to her +lips, and two big tears rolled slowly down her face. + +"La! Ma's cryin' over them vi'lets. Here Tode, gi' me some o' them +bright ones. Gi' me a rose!" cried one of the young women, and Theo +handed each of them a rose and went away in silence. He glanced back +as he left the room. The old woman was still holding the violets to +her cheek and it was plain, even to the boy, that her thoughts were +far away. + +So, from room to room he went and nowhere did he fail of a glad +welcome, because of the gifts he offered. In the dirtiest rooms, the +most hardened of the women, the roughest and rudest of the children, +seemed to become momentarily gentle and tender when the flowers were +laid in their hands. + +When all had been given away except one rose, Theodore paused and +considered. There were several rooms that he had not visited. To +which of these should he carry this last rose? + +Not to Old Man Schneider surely. He was standing at the moment outside +Old Man Schneider's door. The old man was the terror of all the +children in the house, so ugly and profane was he, and so hideous to +look at. Fearless as Theodore was--the sight of Old Man Schneider +always made him shudder, and the boy had never yet spoken to him. + +While he stood there trying to decide who should have the rose, he +heard a deep, hollow groan, and surely it came from the room of Old +Man Schneider. Theodore stood still and listened. There came another +groan and another, and then he knocked on the door. There was no +response and he opened it and went in. He had been in many dirty, +dismal rooms, but never in one so dirty and so dismal as this. It +looked as if it never had been clean. The only furniture was a +tumble-down bed in one corner, a chair and a broken stove. On the bed, +the old man was lying, covered with rags. He fixed his sunken eyes on +the boy and roughly demanded what he wanted, but even as he spoke he +groaned again. + +"You are sick--can't I do something for you?" asked the boy. + +The old man gazed at him for a moment, then he broke into a torrent of +angry words, ending with, + +"Get out o' my sight. I hate boys. I hate everybody an' everything." + +Theodore stood still. The rose in his hand looked strangely out of +place in that squalid room--but--beautifully out of place, for it +seemed to shed light and color as well as perfume through the close, +unhealthy atmosphere. + +"Clear out, I say. Why don't ye go?" The old man tried to shake a +threatening fist, but his arm dropped weakly, and in spite of himself +he moaned with pain. + +"Can't I bring a doctor or somebody to help you?" the boy asked +gently. + +"Ain't nobody ter help me. Don't I tell ye I hate everybody?" was the +fierce reply. + +Theodore gazed about him. There seemed nothing that he could do. He +hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and laid the beautiful +rose against the dark, knotted fingers on the ragged bed-covering, and +then he went away, closing the door behind him. Stopping only to put +his basket into his room and lock the door, he hurried off to the +dispensary and asked that a doctor be sent to Old Man Schneider as +soon as possible. He waited until the doctor was at liberty and then +returned with him. There was no response to their knock, and again +Theodore opened the door and went in, the doctor following. + +The old man did not move or look up even when the doctor spoke to +him. He lay as Theo had last seen him only that his fingers were +closed tightly over the stem of the rose, and one crimson petal lay on +the pillow close to the sunken cheek. The old man was dead--but who +could tell what thoughts of other days--of sinless days long past, +perhaps--may have been awakened in his heart by that fragrant, +beautiful bit of God's handiwork? + +As Theodore went quietly up the stairs, he was glad that he had not +passed by Old Man Schneider's door. + + + +IX. THEO IN TROUBLE + + +Theo went regularly now to the mission school on Sunday afternoons, +and Mr. Scott had become much interested in him. + +One day Mr. Scott pleased Theo immensely by going to the boy's stand +and getting his lunch there, and not long after he went one evening to +the boy's room. He found the place dark and the door locked, but as he +was turning away, Theo came running up the stairs. + +"Oh!" he cried out, in a tone of pleased surprise, as he saw his +teacher. "Wait a minute an' I'll get a light." + +Having lighted his lamp, the boy sat down on the cot, giving the +broken stool to his visitor. Mr. Scott's heart was full of sympathy +as he glanced around the forlorn little room and remembered that it +was all the home that the boy had. + +"Theodore," he said, after talking a while, "what do you do evenings?" + +"Oh, sometimes I stay in Nan's room, an' sometimes I drop in an' talk +to Tommy O'Brien or some of the other sick ones in the house, an' +sometimes I go somewheres outside. Saturday nights I help at a flower +stand." + +"Why don't you go to an evening school? I think that would be the best +place for you to spend your evenings," said Mr. Scott. + +This was a new idea to the boy. He thought it over in silence. + +Mr. Scott went on, "It's not your fault, Theodore, that you have had +no schooling, thus far, but now, you can go to an evening school and +it will be your fault if you grow up ignorant. You will be able to do +far more and better work in the world, with an education, than without +one. The more you know yourself the better you can help others, you +see." + +"Yes," sighed the boy. "I guess that's so, but I 'spect I'll find it +tough work learning." + +"I'm not so sure of that. It will be rather hard at first, because +you're not used to studying; but I think you are bright enough to go +ahead pretty fast when you once get a good start. Now who is this +girl, that I've heard you mention several times--Nan is her name?" + +"Oh, yes, Nan. Come on, I want you to see her an' our baby," replied +the boy, eagerly. + +Somewhat uncertain as to what kind of a girl this might be, yet +anxious to know as much as possible about Theo's associates and +surroundings, Mr. Scott followed the boy down the stairs. + +"Nan, here's my teacher, Mr. Scott, come to see the baby," Theodore +exclaimed, as he unceremoniously pushed open the door and ushered in +the visitor. + +Mr. Scott was more taken aback than was Nan, at this abrupt +introduction. The girl coloured a little, but quietly arose and shook +hands with the gentleman, while Theo exclaimed: + +"Good! Little Brother ain't asleep yet. This is our baby, +Mr. Scott. Ain't he a daisy? Take him." + +Now, Mr. Scott was a young man and totally unused to "taking" babies, +but the boy had lifted the little one from the bed and was holding him +out to his teacher with such a happy face that the young man felt that +it would never do to disappoint him. So he received the baby gingerly +in both hands and set him on his knee, but he did not know what to say +or do to amuse the child, and it was an immense relief to him when +Little Brother held out his hands to Theo, and the boy took him again +saying, + +"Ye don't know him yet, do ye, Little Brother? You will though, by +'n' by," wherein Theo was more of a prophet than he imagined. + +Relieved of the child, Mr. Scott turned to Nan and the colour rose in +his face as he saw a gleam of amusement in the girl's dark eyes, but +Theo's ready tongue filled up the momentary pause, and soon all three +were chatting like old friends, and when Mr. Scott took his departure, +it was with the conviction that his new scholar was fortunate in +having Nan for a friend. At the same time he realised that this great +tenement with its mixed community was a most unsuitable place for a +girl like Nan, and determined that she should be gotten into better +surroundings as soon as it could be accomplished. + +His interest in Theodore was deepened by this visit to his room and +friends. He felt that there was something unusual in the boy, and +determined to keep watch of him and give him any needed help. + +It was November now and the night was chilly. As Mr. Scott left the +tenement house he buttoned his thick overcoat about him, and shivered +as he thought of Theodore's bare cot, with not a pillow or a blanket +even. + +"Not a single bit of bedding," he said, to himself, "and no fire! That +will never do, in weather like this." + +The next day he mentioned the case to the aunt with whom he lived, +with the result that a couple of pillows and a warm comforter were +sent before night to Nan's room, addressed to Theodore Bryan, and for +the remainder of the winter the boy at least did not suffer from cold +at night. + +Theodore grew to like his teacher much as the weeks passed, and often +after Sunday-school the two walked home together. Some of the boys +that had been longer in the class rather resented this friendship, the +more so as Theo was by no means popular among them just at this time. + +"He's gettin' too good, Tode Bryan is," one of them said, one +Sunday. "He walked home with teacher last week, an' now he's a doin' +it again." He glanced gloomily after the two, as he spoke. + +"I'd like ter punch his head; that's what I'd like to do," put in +another. "He pitched inter me for swearin' t'other day." + +"He's a fine one to talk 'bout swearin'," added a third. "I've heard +him goin' it hot an' heavy many a time." + +"Oh yes, but he's settin' up fer a saint now, ye know," said Dick +Hunt, scornfully. "I owe him a lickin,' an' he'll get it too 'fore +he's many days older." + +"What for, Dicky?" questioned another. + +"What for? For blabbin' to my daddy an' sendin' him to Todd's after +me, the night he come sneakin' in there himself," cried Dick. "I've +been layin' for him ever since, an' I'll give it to him good, first +chance I get." + +"He goes to night school now," remarked one. + +"Oh, yes, he's puttin' on airs all 'round," returned Dick. "I'll night +school him!" he added, vengefully. + +It was not long before Dick found an opportunity to execute his +threats of vengeance. He was loafing on a street corner, with Carrots +and two other boys, one night, when Theodore passed them on his way +home from school. He nodded to them as he went by, but did not +stop. Dick's eyes followed him with a threatening glance until he saw +him turn through a narrow street. Then Dick held a brief conference +with Carrots and the other two, and all four set off hastily in the +direction that Theodore had taken. + +He, meantime, went on whistling cheerily and thinking pleasant +thoughts, for he was beginning to get on at the school, and better +yet, he had in his pocket at that moment, a five-dollar bill that +meant a great deal to him. + +Ever since his return from the bishop's house, he had been working as +he never had worked before, neglecting no opportunity to earn even a +nickel, and every penny that he could possibly spare he had given to +Nan to keep for him. He had been perfectly frank with her, and she +knew that as soon as he had saved up thirty-seven dollars he meant to +carry it to the bishop for Mrs. Russell, and tell him the whole +story. First, to stop all his wrongdoing and then as far as possible, +to make up to those he had wronged--these were Theodore's firm +purposes now, but he felt that he could never bear to face the bishop +again until he could take with him the proof of his genuine +repentance. + +Many and many a time in these past weeks, had the boy planned with Nan +how he would go to the house and what he would say to the bishop, and +what he hoped the bishop would say to him, and Nan had rejoiced almost +as much as the boy himself as, week by week, the sum in her hands grew +toward the desired amount. Even Nan did not know all the hard work +and stern self-denial that had made it possible for Theodore to put by +that money out of his small earnings. + +The five in his pocket on this evening would complete the entire sum +and the very next day he meant to carry it to the bishop. The mere +thought of seeing again the face that was to him like no other face in +all the world--filled the boy's heart with a deep, sweet delight. He +was thinking of it as he hurried along through a short, dark alley, +where were only two or three stables and one empty house. + +Quick, stealthy footsteps followed him, but he paid no heed to them +until a heavy blow on the back of his head made him suddenly turn and +face four dark figures that were close at his heels. + +"Who are you? What ye hittin' me for?" he demanded, angrily. + +There was no response, but Dick struck at him again. This time, +however, Theodore was on his guard, and he caught Dick's arm and gave +it a twist that made its owner cry out. + +"Oh ho, it's you, Dick Hunt. I might a' known nobody else would sneak +up on a feller this way. Well, now, what are ye after?" + +"I'm after givin' you the worst lickin' ever you had," muttered Dick, +trying in vain to free his arm from Theo's strong grip. + +"What for?" demanded Theodore. + +"For sneakin' into Todd's and then runnin' to tell my father where I +was. That's one thing, but there's plenty more't I'm goin' to settle +with you for, to-night," shouted Dick, as he pounded with his left +hand, and kicked viciously at the other's shins. + +"I never spoke to your father that night," Theo declared, but Dick +responded, scornfully, + +"Tell that to a greenhorn! Pitch into him, boys. He won't let go o' +me." + +Seeing the others start toward him, Theo flung Dick's arm aside, and +bracing himself against a vacant house just behind him, faced them all +in dogged silence. They hesitated for a moment, but Dick cried out +again, + +"Come on, boys!" and the four flung themselves upon Theo, striking, +pounding and kicking all together. He defended himself as best he +could, but the odds were too great. It was only when the boy slipped +to the ground in a limp, motionless heap, that his assailants drew +off, and looked uneasily at one another in the darkness. + +"What'll we do now?" whispered Carrots. + +"Cut it--somebody's comin'!" cried Dick, in a low tone, and thereupon +they took to their heels, leaving Theo as he had fallen on the ground. + +The boys stopped running as soon as they reached a lighted street +where the passers-by might notice them; but they walked on rapidly and +discussed the affair in low, guarded tones. + +"You don't think he's done for, do ye, Dick?" questioned Carrots, +uneasily. + +Dick tried to laugh carelessly, but the effort was a failure. He was +beginning to be anxious as to the result, though he was not ready to +admit it. + +"Done for? Not much!" he answered, promptly. "More like he was +shammin', an' wasn't hurt half so much as he'd ought ter be." + +"But if 'tain't so-if he's hurt bad, he may have us up for 'sault an' +batt'ry," remarked another. + +"Dick's the only one he could go for, 'cause 'twas so dark, he +couldn't spot the rest of us," put in Carrots, hastily. + +"Ye needn't try to sneak out o' it that way," cried Dick, sharply. "If +I get took up, you'll be, too." + +"D'ye mean't you'd give us away after gettin' us into it, jest ter +help you out?" demanded the other, in a threatening tone. + +"If he does, we'll make it hot fer _him_" put in another, as Dick +answered, doubtfully, + +"Wal if he should make a fuss 'bout it, I can't take all the blame, +can I? I didn't do all the whackin'." + +"Well, I say, boys, he's a nice one, Dick Hunt is! After gettin' us to +help him lick a feller 'cause he darsent do it alone, he talks of +gettin' us took up for it," exclaimed the last speaker; "but see here, +you," he added to Dick, "Bryan knew you an' he didn't know any the +rest of us, an' I tell ye what--if you get inter trouble 'bout this +job, you lug us into it 'f ye dare! I'll swear 't Carrots an' Jo here +were down t' my place with me, 'n' they'll swear to it too; hey, +boys?" + +"We will so!" + +"We'll do that ev'ry time!" they answered in one voice; and then with +a few cutting words the three turned off together, leaving Dick to +pursue his way alone. + +And miserable enough Dick was as he walked on alone. He was not in the +least sorry for what had been done to Theodore, but he was afraid of +the consequences. He turned sick with dread as he remembered how the +boy's body had slipped in a limp heap to the ground and lain there +motionless. + +Suppose they had killed him? It would be murder. Somebody would have +to answer for it and that somebody would be he--Dick Hunt. The cold +perspiration started on his forehead and his heart throbbed heavily at +the thought, and he felt a wild desire to run on and on till he had +left that dark heap in the dark alley, miles and miles behind him. + +Then came a flash of hope. Perhaps after all Tode was not so badly +hurt. Perhaps he had been shamming just to scare them. At this +thought, Dick's quick pace slackened and he had half a mind to go back +and see if the body still lay there, but he could not bring himself to +do that. He shivered and hurried on aimlessly, through the brightly +lighted streets. He was afraid to go home, lest he be met there by the +news that he dreaded. He was afraid to stay in the streets, for every +moment he expected to feel the heavy hand of a policeman on his +shoulder. He said to himself that Carrots and the others might inform +against him just to save themselves. + +So, as wretched as a boy well could be, he wandered about for an hour +or two, stopping sometimes in dark corners and then hastening on +again, stealing suspicious glances over his shoulders, and listening +for pursuing footsteps. At last, he turned homeward, longing, yet +dreading, to see his mother. + +It was nearly midnight when he crept softly up the stairs, but his +mother had been unable to sleep, and as his hand touched the door in +the darkness, she threw it open with a sigh of relief that her weary +waiting was over for that night. She did not find fault with him. It +seemed to her utterly useless now to complain or entreat. + +Dick longed to ask if she knew anything about Tode, but his tongue +refused to utter the words and he tumbled into bed in gloomy silence. + +There had been no shamming when Theo fell under the brutal blows of +the four boys who had set upon him. They were all strong, well-grown +lads, and striking blindly and viciously in the dark, had perhaps hit +harder than they realised. At any rate Theo had felt his strength +failing even before a last blow on his head made him unconscious of +what followed. + +The "somebody," whom the boys had heard, came slouching along through +the dark alley and stumbled over the prostrate body. + +"Hello! What's this?" he exclaimed, his nimble fingers running rapidly +over the boy's face and figure. "Somebody's been up to something +here. Let's see if--no! Well, that's queer!" + +These disconnected remarks were the accompaniment to a rapid and +skillful search through the boy's pockets, and the last emphatic +expression was drawn forth by the discovery that there had been no +robbery; whereupon the newcomer promptly proceeded to complete the job +by emptying the said pockets in a manner that proved him no novice at +such business. Then he stole noiselessly away, leaving the boy again +alone in the darkness, and now there was no good bishop at hand to +take him in. + +Meantime, at home, Nan was wondering why Theo did not come in as usual +to tell her what he had been doing at the night school, and to get +Tag, who always staid with her when Theo was at the school. Tag was +troubled and uneasy too. When it was time for the boy to come Tag sat +watching the door, his ears alert for a footstep outside. Now and then +he whined, and finally he showed so plainly his desire to go out that +Nan opened the door, saying, + +"Go find him, Tag." + +She stood in her doorway listening, and heard the dog scamper up to +Theo's door. There he listened and nosed about for a moment, then down +he came again, and with a short, anxious bark, dashed down the stairs +to the street. Nan waited a long time but the dog did not return, and +at last she put out her light and went to bed with a troubled heart. + +But Tag could not sleep. He seemed to know that there was something +wrong and something for him to attend to. He raced first to his +master's stand, then to the mission school and to the night school, +and finding all these places now dark and silent, he pattered through +the streets, his nose close to the ground, his anxious, loving eyes +watching everything that moved. So at last he came to that dark heap +in the dark alley, and first he was wild with joy, but when his +frantic delight failed to awaken his master and make him come away +home, Tag was sure that something was very wrong indeed and he began +to run backward and forward between the motionless body and the +corner, until he attracted the attention of a policeman who followed +him around into the dark alley, and in a few minutes Theodore was on +his way to the Emergency Hospital with Tag following after the +ambulance at the top of his speed. But once again Tag found himself +rudely repulsed when he tried to slip in after his master. This time +he felt that he really could not bear it, and so he stood on the +hospital steps and lifting up his voice howled his protest until +somebody came and drove him away. But he couldn't stay away, so he +crawled into a dark corner up against the wall, and curling himself +into the smallest possible space, lay there watchful and wretched +until morning, when, after eyeing wistfully those who came out and +went in past him, he trotted slowly home to Nan, and did his poor best +to tell her what had happened and where Theo was. + +Nan had passed an anxious night, for she was sure that there was +something wrong, and since Theo's return from the bishop's, he had +been so changed, that she had grown very fond of him. Being a year or +two his senior, she felt a kind of elder sisterly responsibility in +regard to him, knowing as she did, that he was even more alone in the +world than she, for she had Little Brother, and Theo had nobody at +all. + +So she was at Mrs. Hunt's door, talking the matter over with her, when +Tag, with drooping head and tail, came slowly up the stairs. He wagged +his tail faintly at sight of Nan, and rubbed his head affectionately +against her, and then stood looking up at her, as if waiting to be +questioned. + +"He's been gone all night," Nan was saying to Mrs. Hunt, and referring +to the dog, "but I don't believe he found Theo. He doesn't act as if +he had. Oh, Mrs. Hunt, where _do_ you suppose he is?" + +Mrs. Hunt shook her head. "The dear knows," she said, "but something +must 'a' happened to him, sure. He's been steady as clockwork since +ever he took that room upstairs, I'll say that for him." She sighed as +she spoke, thinking of her Dick. + +"But what can I do, Mrs. Hunt?" cried Nan, her eyes full of tears. "It +seems dreadful to keep right on, just as if he were here, as +usual. Isn't there any way to find out where he is?" + +"Look here, Nan," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt. + +"Do you know where his teacher--that Mr. Scott--lives?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, why don't you send word to him? He seems to think a lot of Tode +an' Dick. I guess he does of all his scholars. He would know what to +do, an' where to look for the boy--don't you think so?" + +Nan's face had brightened as her friend spoke. + +"I'm sure that's a good idea," she replied. "He's always been so nice +and kind to Theo. I most know he'll help find him." + +"That's right now, child, stop fretting, for I'll warrant he'll set +things straight in no time. I'll let Dick or Jimmy go around to +Mr. Scott's as soon as they've had their breakfast." + +Relieved by this promise, and trying hard to be hopeful and not to +worry, Nan ran back to her room, while Mrs. Hunt called the boys. + +Dick pretended to be very sound asleep, and it required more than one +call and shake to arouse him, but in reality, he too had passed a most +miserable night, and he had listened, with heart beating fast and +hard, to his mother's colloquy with Nan; and as he listened, ever +before his mind's eye was that dark, motionless heap on the ground. In +imagination, he saw Theo's dead body on a slab in the morgue, and +himself in a prison cell, condemned for murder. Dick's worst enemy +could not have wished him to be any more wretched than he was in that +hour, as he cowered in his bed, and strained his ears to catch every +word that was uttered. But when his mother shook him, he rubbed his +eyes, and pretended to be still half asleep, and flatly refused to go +to Mr. Scott's. + +"Let Jim go, 'f anybody's got to," he growled, as he began to pull on +his clothes. "Here you, Jim, turn out lively now!" he added, yanking +the bedclothes off his brother to emphasise his words. + +"He's always a-puttin' off on me--Dick is," snarled Jim, as he joined +his mother in the other room a few minutes later, but when he learned +why he was to go to Mr. Scott's he made no further objections, but +swallowed his breakfast hastily, and went off on the run. Jim did not +share his brother's enmity toward the missing boy. Jim liked Theo. He +liked Nan too, and was always ready to do an errand for her, if she +wanted him. + +Mr. Scott was just sitting down to breakfast when Jim appeared, and he +left his coffee to cool while he listened with keen interest to what +the boy had to tell him. His face was very grave as he said, + +"Tell Miss Nan that I will be around there within an hour. See here, +though, Jim,--have you had your breakfast?" + +"Ye--yes, sir," Jim answered, with a quick glance at the hot cakes and +chops that had such an appetising odour. Jim didn't have chops and hot +cakes for breakfast. + +"Aunt Mary, can you put another plate here for Jim?" Mr. Scott asked, +and his aunt, with a smile, set another chair at the table, and piled +a plate with eatables, of which the boy disposed as easily and +speedily as if that had been his first meal that day. + +Mr. Scott likewise made a hasty breakfast, and then he sent Jim back +to Nan, while he himself went to his place of business to arrange for +his absence that morning. + +Within the hour, as he had said, he knocked at Nan's door. She +welcomed him with a feeling of glad relief, assured that at least he +would be able to find out where Theo was. He waited only to get what +little information she could give him, and then set forth, but before +he had reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs, Nan ran after +him. + +"Mr. Scott," she called. "Wouldn't it be a good plan to take +Tag--Theo's dog--with you?" + +Mr. Scott thought it would, but now an unexpected obstacle was +encountered. Tag refused to go with him. He crept under Nan's dress, +and crouched there, looking quietly out at the gentleman, but making +no movement toward him, though he called and whistled as persuasively +as he could. + +"Oh, Tag, do go," pleaded Nan, almost ready to cry at the dog's +unexpected obstinacy. + +Tag twisted his head and looked up at her, and it almost seemed as if +he were moved by her pleading tone, for, after a moment's hesitation, +he crept slowly out from his refuge, and followed Mr. Scott down the +stairs. Once outside the house he stopped and gazed with keen, +questioning eyes at the gentleman, standing, meanwhile, ready to dart +off, should any attempt be made to capture him, but Mr. Scott stopped +too, and said quietly, + +"Go find him, Tag. Find Theo." + +That was enough for the intelligent little creature. With a quick, +sharp yelp of satisfaction, Tag set off at such a pace that Mr. Scott +had hard work to keep him in sight. In fact, as soon as they turned +into a thronged business street, he lost sight of his four-footed +guide entirely, but the direction Tag had taken was a sufficient clue. +The young man was so certain that the Emergency Hospital was the place +to which the dog was leading him, that he boarded a car and went +directly there, and sure enough on the steps sat Tag, his short ears +erect, and his eager eyes watching impatiently for a chance to slip +inside the doors. + +He seemed to know that his chance had come when he saw Mr. Scott +running up the steps, for he frisked about and showed his delight in +every conceivable fashion. Dogs were not allowed in the hospital, but +when Mr. Scott picked Tag up in his arms and promised to keep him +there, the attendant finally consented that he should do so. And so +they went first to the waiting-room and then up the stairs and through +the long corridors. + + + +X. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT + + +Theodore was still unconscious when he was lifted into the ambulance +the night before, but on the way to the hospital he opened his eyes, +wondering much to find himself flat on his back and being driven +rapidly through the streets. In a few minutes he remembered what had +happened, and guessed that he must have been stunned by a blow or a +fall. As he reached this conclusion, the vehicle stopped, and he was +lifted out and carried into the hospital in spite of his protests. He +had a dread of entering a hospital as a patient, and he wanted to go +home. + +But the doctors would not allow him to go home. They told him that if +he would be quiet and do as they said, he would probably be able to go +home the next morning, and with this promise he was obliged to be +content, and allow himself to be undressed and put to bed. He was +badly bruised and his right shoulder was very lame, but there was no +serious injury, and it seemed to the boy very trying to be compelled +to spend the night where he was. He did not sleep much, partly because +of his strange surroundings, and partly because of his aching head and +shoulder, and as he lay there in the dimly-lighted ward, his thoughts +were busy. + +A hot anger burned in his heart as he recalled the cowardly attack in +the dark alley. He saw that it had been deliberately planned by Dick +Hunt, and that the four boys must have followed him from the corner +where he saw them. + +"I'll pay that Dick Hunt for this," he muttered under his breath, "an' +Carrots, too. I know the chap that hit so hard was Carrots. I'll make +'em suffer for it!" + +He lay there, his eyes flashing and his cheeks burning, as he thought +over various schemes of vengeance. Then suddenly he thought of Mr. +Scott, and that brought something else to his remembrance. He seemed +to see his teacher holding out his little Bible and making +him--Theodore--read aloud those two verses: + +"Dearly beloved avenge not yourselves." + +And "Recompense to no man evil for evil." + +As he repeated these words to himself, the fire died slowly out of the +boy's eyes and the angry colour faded from his cheeks. He turned +restlessly in his bed and tried to banish these thoughts and bring +back his schemes of vengeance, but he could not do it. He knew what +was the right--what he ought to do--but he was not willing to do it. +Hour after hour he argued the matter with himself, finding all sorts +of reasons why, in this case, he might take vengeance into his own +hands and "learn that Dick Hunt a lesson," yet feeling and knowing in +the depths of his heart that whatever the old Tode Bryan might have +done, Theodore Bryan, who was trying to be the bishop's shadow, +certainly had no right to do evil to somebody else simply because that +somebody had done evil to him. + +It was nearly morning before the long battle with himself was over, +but it ended at last, and it was Theodore, and not Tode who was +victorious, and it was the memory of the bishop's face, and of the +bishop's prayer that day in the poorhouse, that finally settled the +matter. + +"He'd fight for somebody else, the bishop would, but he wouldn't ever +fight for himself, an' I mustn't neither," the boy murmured, softly, +and then with a long breath he turned his face to the wall and fell +asleep, and he had but just awakened from that sleep when Mr. Scott, +with Tag under his arm, came through the long corridor to the ward +where Theodore was lying in the very last cot, next the wall. + +Mr. Scott had promised not to let the dog out of his arms, but if he +had been better acquainted with Tag he would never have made such a +rash promise. As the gentleman followed the nurse into the ward, the +dog's eyes flashed a swift glance over the long line of cots, and the +next instant something dark went flying down the room and up on to +that last cot in the row, and there was Tag licking his master's face +and hands, and wagging his tail, and barking like mad. + +"Dear me!" exclaimed the nurse, running toward the corner. "This will +never do. He'll drive the patients into fits! Why didn't you keep hold +of him?" + +She threw the question back in a reproachful tone to Mr. Scott. + +He laughed a little as he answered, "If you will try to pick him up +now and hold him, you will understand why." + +Even as he spoke, the nurse was making an attempt to capture and +silence the noisy little fellow. She might as well have tried to pick +up a ball of quicksilver. Tag slipped through her fingers like an eel, +scurrying from one end of the cot to the other, and barking excitedly +all the time. + +"Can't you stop him, Theodore?" exclaimed Mr. Scott, as he reached the +corner where the boy lay. + +"Here, Tag, lie down and be still," cried the boy, and with one last +defiant yap at the nurse, Tag nosed aside the bedclothes and snuggled +down beside his master with a sigh of glad content. + +"Well, if ever I let a dog into _my_ ward again!" exclaimed the +nurse, in a tone of stern determination. + +"I'm sorry he made such a noise, ma'am. It was only because he was so +glad to find me," said Theodore, quickly. + +The nurse turned away in offended silence, and Mr. Scott sat down by +the bed and began to talk with the boy. + +He listened with a grave face to Theo's story. When it was ended, he +asked, "Did you recognise either of the boys?" + +"Yes, sir; one, certainly, and I think I know one of the others." + +"Well?" said the teacher, inquiringly. + +Theodore hesitated a moment, then answered in a low tone, "You 'member +them verses you showed me that first Sunday, Mr. Scott?" + +The gentleman smiled down into the sober, boyish face. "I remember," +he replied, "but, Theo, this is a grave matter. To beat a boy until he +is unconscious, and then leave him to live or die, is a crime. Such +boys ought not to be shielded." + +"Mr. Scott, I had an awful time over that last night," answered the +boy, earnestly. "I wanted to pay them fellers for this job--you better +b'lieve I did, but," he shook his head slowly, "I can't do it. You +see, sir, I ain't Tode no more--I'm Theodore, now." + +There was a look on the homely, boyish face that forbade further +discussion of the matter, and, after a moment's silence, Mr. Scott +said in a different tone, "Well, my boy, when are you going home? Nan +and the baby want to see you." + +Theo glanced impatiently about the long room. + +"She said I'd got to stay in bed till the doctor had seen me," he +replied, "'n the doctor'll be here 'bout nine o'clock." + +"She" was the nurse. + +"It's nearly nine now. I'll wait until the doctor comes, then," +Mr. Scott said. + +The doctor pronounced the boy quite fit to leave the hospital, and his +clothes being brought to him, the curtains were drawn around his cot +and he dressed himself hastily. But as he pushed aside the curtains, +Mr. Scott saw a troubled look on his face, and asked: + +"What's the matter, Theodore?" + +Without answering the boy crossed the room to the nurse. + +"Where's the money that was in my pocket?" he asked, anxiously. + +The nurse looked at him sharply. "If there was any money in your +pockets when you were brought here it would be in them now," she +answered, shortly. "You can go to the office and ask any questions you +like." + +Theodore turned toward his teacher a very sorrowful face. + +"I've been robbed, too," he said. + +"Oh, I'm sorry, Theodore. How much have you lost?" + +"Five dollars. She says to ask at the office, but 'twon't do no good, +I s'pose." + +"No, nothing would have been taken from your pockets here, but we will +stop at the office and see if we can learn anything," Mr. Scott said. + +Tag had kept close to his master's heels, and now at his teacher's +suggestion Theodore picked up the dog, who went forth quietly enough +in that fashion. + +Inquiries at the office convinced the boy that he had been robbed +before he was brought there, and naturally enough he came to the +conclusion that his money had gone into the pockets of Dick Hunt and +his companions. + +At the door of the tenement house Mr. Scott left Theo, who hurried +eagerly up the stairs. On the landing he met Jimmy Hunt, who called +out: + +"Hi--o, Tode, where ye been all night? Say, what was the matter? Did +Mr. Scott find ye?" + +"Yes," was Theo's only response, as he pushed open Nan's door, to be +greeted with such a warm welcome that he hardly knew what to say and +had to hide his embarrassment by poking the baby's ribs to make him +laugh. Jimmy Hunt had followed him into the room and listened with +open mouth as well as ears to the brief story that the boy told in +reply to Nan's questions. + +"Oh, 'twasn't much. I got knocked down an' carried to the hospital, +an' they wouldn't let me come away till morning--that's all." + +"An' wasn't ye hurt?" cried Jimmy, in a disappointed tone. It seemed +to him altogether too tame an affair if nobody was hurt. + +"My shoulder's sprained, an' my head was hurt a little," Theo +answered. "Say, Jim, where's Dick?" + +"I d'know. Out somewheres," replied Dick's brother, indifferently. + +"Why ain't you in school, Jimmy?" was Theo's next question. + +"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Jimmy, in a tone of deep +disgust. "Ain't I been a-racin' all over town for you this mornin', +a-gettin' Mr. Scott to hunt ye up, an' goin' ter see 'f your stand's +open, an' carryin' things 'round fer Nan, too? How could I do all +that an' be in school, I'd like to know?" + +"'Deed, you couldn't, Jimmy," replied Nan, soothingly. "I don't know +what I should have done this morning without him, Theo. He was my +right hand man." + +Jimmy coloured with satisfaction at this high praise, and his delight +was complete when Theodore added, + +"That so? Well now, Jimmy boy, I ain't goin' to forget this." + +"Huh! Twarn't nothin'. I liked to do it," replied Jimmy, and then +overcome by a sudden and unaccountable fit of bashfulness he ran +hastily out of the room. + +Then Theodore told Nan the details of his adventure, but not even to +her would he tell the name of his enemy, and Nan did not guess, for +she would never have imagined that Mrs. Hunt's Dick could have served +Theo so. + +Dick had gone out as usual after breakfast and did not come home even +to get his supper, but of late his habits had been so irregular that +nothing was said at home about his absence. + +After supper Jimmy was sent out on an errand and Dick met him and +questioned him in regard to Theo's return, and what he had to say. +Jimmy waxed indignant over the story which he filled in from his own +imagination with many vivid details. + +"Some fellers pitched into him an' knocked him down an' beat him an' +left him for dead an' they took him t' the hospital an' kep' him there +all night. Guess them fellers'll suffer for it! They robbed him, +too. Took five dollars out o' his pockets." + +"They didn't neither!" exclaimed Dick, hastily, thrown off his guard +by this unexpected statement. + +"Come now, Dick Hunt, mebbe you know more'n I do about it," retorted +Jimmy, with withering sarcasm, little suspecting how much more his +brother _did_ know. "Mebbe you heard what Nan said to ma 'bout +it." + +"No, no! 'Course I d'know nothin' 'bout it. How would I know?" +replied Dick, quickly and uneasily. "Say, Jimmy, is he--is Tode goin' +to have them fellers took up?" + +"'Spect he is--I would," answered Jimmy; then remembering his errand, +he ran off, leaving Dick looking after him with a haggard, miserable +face. + +"Robbed," Dick said to himself, as he walked moodily and aimlessly +on. "We didn't do that anyhow. Somebody must 'a' gone through his +pockets after we cleared out. Nice box I'm in now!" + +Dick did not go home at all that night. He was afraid that he might be +arrested if he did. + +"He knows 'twas me did it, an' he's keepin' dark 'bout it till they +can nab me," he thought. + +He hunted up the three boys who had been so ready to help him the +night before, but he found them now firmly banded together against +him. Moreover, they had spread such reports of him among their +companions, that Dick found himself shunned by them all. He dared not +go home, so he wandered about the streets, eating in out-of-the-way +places, and sleeping where he could. One day Carrots told him that +Tode Bryan was huntin' everywhere for him. Then Dick, in desperation, +made up his mind to go to sea--he could stand the strain no longer. He +dared not go home, even to bid his mother goodbye. Dick was selfish +and cruel, but he had even yet a little lingering tenderness for his +mother. It was not enough to make him behave himself and do what he +knew would please her, but it did make him wish that he could see her +just for a moment before going away. It was enough to make him creep +cautiously to the house after dark, and stand in the shadow, looking +up at her window, while he pictured to himself the neat, pleasant +room, where at that hour, she would be preparing supper. While he +stood there, Theo came out of the house, with Tag, as usual, at his +heels. Tag ran over to the dark corner and investigated Dick, but +cautiously, for there was no friendship between him and this member of +the Hunt family. Dick stood silent and motionless afraid that the dog +might bark and draw Theo over there, but he stood ready for flight +until Theo whistled and Tag ran back to him, and presently followed +him off in another direction. Then, with a breath of relief, Dick +stole off into the darkness, and the next day he left the city on a +vessel bound for South America, rejoicing that at last he was beyond +reach of Tode Bryan. + +Dick was not mistaken in thinking that Theo had been searching for +him, but he was greatly mistaken as to the boy's purpose in +it. Theodore was entirely ready now to obey that command that +Mr. Scott had shown him and to do his best to "overcome evil with +good." He took it for granted that Dick and the others had robbed as +well as beaten him, but all the same, he felt that he was bound to +forget all that and find some way to show them a kindness. But though +Theo was always on the lookout for him, Dick managed to keep out of +his sight while he remained in the city. After Dick had sailed, some +boy told Jimmy where his brother had gone, and so at last the news +reached Theodore. + +Since his return from the bishop's, Theo had had few idle moments, but +after losing the five dollars he worked early and late to make up the +loss. He grew more silent and thoughtful, and when alone his thoughts +dwelt almost continually on that happy day when he should look once +more into the bishop's kind face. + +"I'll tell him all about it," he would say to himself, "how I saw that +Mrs. Russell drop the pocketbook, an' how I slipped under the wagon +an' snatched it up out o' the mud, an' used the money. I'll tell it +all, an' ev'rything else bad that I can 'member, so he'll know jest +what a bad lot I've been, an' then I'll tell him how sorry I am, an' +how I'm a-huntin' ev'rywhere for that Jack Finney, an' how I'll keep +a-huntin' till I find him." + +All this and much more Theodore planned to tell the bishop, and, as he +thought about it, it seemed as if he could not wait another hour, so +intense was his longing to look once more into that face that was like +no other earthly face to him, to listen again to the voice that +thrilled his heart, and hear it say, "My boy, I forgive you." Many a +time he dreamt of this and started up from sleep with those words +ringing in his ears, "My boy, I forgive you," and then finding himself +alone in his dark, dismal little room, he would bury his wet cheeks in +the pillow and try to stifle the longing in his lonely, boyish heart. + +Even Nan, who knew him better than did any one else, never guessed how +his heart hungered to hear those words from the lips of the bishop. + +But little by little--in nickels and dimes and quarters--Theodore laid +by another five dollars. He knew to a penny how much there was, but +when he brought the last dime, he and Nan counted it all to make +sure. There was no mistake. It amounted to thirty-seven dollars and +twenty-five cents, and the boy drew a long, glad breath as he looked +up at Nan with shining eyes and flushed cheeks, saying, + +"To-morrow, Nan, I can see--_him!_" + +"Don't look so--so awfully glad, Theo. I'm afraid something will +happen," said Nan, with a troubled expression in her eyes as she +looked at him. + +"Don't you worry. I ain't a-goin' to be robbed again--you better +believe I ain't!" cried the boy. Then he glanced at his worn suit and +tried to pull down his jacket sleeves, as he added, wistfully, "D'you +think I look well enough to go there, Nan? I wanted to buy a collar +an' necktie, but, I just _couldn't_ wait any longer." + +Nan's private opinion was, that if the bishop could only see Theo's +face at that moment, the garments he wore would be a matter of small +importance. She answered, quickly, + +"You look plenty well enough, Theo. Don't worry about that." + +She gathered up the money and put it back into the box in which it had +been kept, and the boy went across the room to the bed where the baby +lay asleep. + +"Seems to me he looks kind o' peaked--don't he, Nan?" he remarked, +uneasily. + +Nan cast an anxious glance at the little, thin face, and shook her +head. "He doesn't get strong as I hoped he would," she answered, +sadly. + +"Oh well, he will, when it comes warmer, so he can get out doors +oftener," the boy said, as he went away to his room. + +He hurried through his work the next day, closing his stand at the +earliest possible moment, and rushing home to get ready for his +visit. He always, now, kept his face and hands scrupulously clean. His +hair might have been in better condition if he had had money to buy a +comb or a brush, but those were among the luxuries that he felt he +must deny himself until he had made all the restitution in his power. + +To-day, however, when he went to Nan's room for his money, she offered +him the use of her comb, and helped him reduce his rough, thick hair +to some kind of order. Even then he looked at himself somewhat +doubtfully. His suit was so shabby in spite of Nan's careful mending, +and his shoes were worse than his suit, but they were polished to the +last degree. He had exchanged a sandwich and two doughnuts for that +"shine." + +"You look well enough, Theo," Nan said, "plenty well enough. Now go +on, and oh, I do _hope_ it will be all right." + +"I know 'twill," cried the boy, joyously, as he tucked the money +carefully into an inside pocket. "Oh, Nan!" + +He looked at her with such a happy face that her own beamed a bright +response. Then he ran off and Nan stood in the doorway watching him as +he went down the stairs, closely followed by his inseparable +companion, Tag. + +"The dear boy! He is fairly pale," said Nan, to herself, as she turned +back into her room. "It is strange how he loves that bishop--and what +a different boy he is, too, since he came home. I don't see how the +bishop can help loving him. Oh, I do hope nothing will happen to +spoil his visit. He has looked forward to it so long." + +The boy felt as if he were walking on air as he went rapidly through +the crowded streets, seeing nothing about him, so completely were his +thoughts occupied with the happiness before him. As he got farther up +town the crowd lessened, and when he turned into the street on which +the bishop lived, the passers-by were few. + +At last he could see the house. In a few minutes he would reach +it. Then his joyous anticipations suddenly vanished and he began to be +troubled. + +What if Brown wouldn't let him in, he thought, or--what if the bishop +should refuse to see him or to listen to his story? + +As these thoughts came to him his eager pace slackened and for a +moment he was tempted to turn back. Only for a moment, however. He +_knew_ that the bishop would not refuse to see him, and as for +Brown, if Brown refused to admit him, he would go to the servants' +door and ask for Mrs. Martin. + +So thinking, he pushed open the iron gate and went slowly up the walk. + +"Stay here, Tag. Lie down, sir!" he ordered, and the dog obediently +dropped down on the steps, keeping his bright eyes fastened on his +master, as the boy rang the bell. Theo could almost hear his heart +beat as he waited. Suddenly the door swung open and there was Brown +gazing severely at him. + +"Well--what do _you_ want?" questioned the man, brusquely. + +"I want--Don't you know me, Brown? I want to see--Mrs. Martin." + +The boy's voice was thick and husky, and somehow he could not utter +the bishop's name to Brown standing there with that cold frown on his +face. + +"Oh--you want to see Mrs. Martin, do you? Well, I think you've got +cheek to come here at all after leaving the way you did," Brown +growled. He held the door so that the boy could not enter, and seemed +more than half inclined to shut it in his face. + +"Oh, please, Brown, _do_ let me in," pleaded the boy, with such a +heart-broken tone in his voice, that Brown relented--he wasn't half so +gruff as he pretended to be--and answered, grudgingly, + +"Well, come in, if you must, an' I'll find out if Mrs. Martin will see +you." + +With a sudden gleam of joy in his eyes, Theodore slipped in. + +"Come along!" Brown called over his shoulder, and the boy followed to +the housekeeper's sitting-room. The door of the room stood open, and +Mrs. Martin sat by the window with a newspaper in her hand. She +glanced up over her spectacles as Brown's tall figure appeared at the +door. + +"Mrs. Martin, this boy says he wants to see you," he announced, and +then sauntered indifferently away to his own quarters. + +Mrs. Martin took off her glasses as she called, "Come in, boy, and +tell me what you want." + +Theo walked slowly toward her hoping that she would recognise him, but +she did not. Indeed it was a wonder that Brown had recognised him, so +different was his appearance in his rough worn clothes, from that of +the handsomely dressed lad, whose sudden departure had so grieved the +kindhearted housekeeper. + +"Don't you know me, Mrs. Martin?" the boy faltered, sorrowfully, as he +paused beside her chair. + +"No, I'm sure I--why! You don't mean to say that you are our deaf and +dumb boy!" exclaimed the good woman, as she peered earnestly into the +grey eyes looking down so wistfully into hers. + +"Yes, I'm the bad boy you were so good to, but I've been keepin' +straight ever since I was here, Mrs. Martin," he answered, +earnestly. "I have, truly." + +"Bless your dear heart, child," cried the good woman, springing up +hastily and seizing the boy's hands. "I'm sure you have. I guess +_I_ know a bad face when I see one, and it don't look like +yours. Sit down, dear, and tell me all about it." + +In the fewest possible words Theo told his story, making no attempt to +excuse anything. The housekeeper listened with keen interest, asking +a question now and then, and reading in his face the confirmation of +all he said. He did not say very much about the bishop, but the few +words that he did say and the look in his eyes as he said them, showed +her what a hold upon the boy's heart her master had so unconsciously +gained, and her own interest in the friendless lad grew deeper. + +When his story was told, she wiped her eyes as she said, slowly, "And +to think that you've been working all these weeks to save up that +money! Well, well, how glad the dear bishop will be! He's said all the +time that you were a good boy." + +"Oh, has he?" cried Theo, his face all alight with sudden joy. "I was +afraid he'd think I was all bad when he found out how I'd cheated +him." + +"No, no!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin. "He was grieved over your going off +so, and he has tried his best to find you, but you see he didn't know +where to look for you." + +"Did he try to find me, Mrs. Martin? Oh, I'm so glad! And can I see +him now, please?" + +The boy's voice trembled with eagerness as he spoke. + +The housekeeper's kind face was full of pity and sympathy as she +exclaimed, "Why, my boy, didn't you know? The bishop is in California. +He went a week ago to stay three months." + +All the glad brightness faded from the boy's face as he heard this. He +did not speak, but he turned aside, and brushed his sleeve hastily +across his eyes. Mrs. Martin laid her hand gently on his shoulder. + +"I'm so sorry," she said, "and he will be too, when he knows of your +coming. I will write him all about it." + +Still the boy stood silent. It seemed to him that he could not bear +it. It had not once occurred to him that the bishop might be away, and +now there was no possibility of seeing him for three long months. It +seemed an eternity to the boy. And to think that he was there--at +home--a week ago! + +"If they hadn't stole that five dollars from me, I might 'a' seen him +last week," the boy said to himself, bitter thoughts of Dick Hunt +rising in his heart. At last he turned again to the housekeeper and at +the change in his face her eyes filled with quick tears. + +He took from his pocket the little roll of money and held it out, +saying in a low unsteady voice, "You send it to him--an' tell +him--won't you?" + +"I'll write him all about it," the housekeeper repeated, "and don't +you be discouraged, dear. He'll want to see you just as soon as he +gets home, I know he will. Tell me where you live, so I can send you +word when he comes." + +In a dull, listless voice the boy gave the street and number, and she +wrote the address on a slip of paper. + +"Remember, Theodore, I shall write the bishop all you have told me, +and how you are trying to find the Finney boy and to help others just +as he does," said the good woman, knowing instinctively that this +would comfort the boy in his bitter disappointment. + +He brightened a little at her words but he only said, briefly, + +"Yes--tell him that," and then he went sorrowfully away. + +Mrs. Martin stood at the window and looked after him as he went slowly +down the street, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground, +while Tag, well aware that something was wrong, trotted beside him +with drooping ears and tail. + +"Tell me that that's a bad boy!" the good woman said to herself. "I +know better! I don't care what that Mr. Gibson said. I never took much +stock in Mr. Gibson myself, anyhow. He always had something to say +against anybody that the bishop took an interest in. There--I wish I'd +told Theodore that he was here only as a substitute, and had to leave +when the regular secretary was well enough to come back. I declare my +heart aches when I think of that poor little fellow's face when I told +him that the bishop was gone. Ah well, this is a world of +disappointment!" and with a sigh she turned away from the window. + +Nan sat in a rocking-chair with Little Brother in her arms, when +Theodore opened her door. + +"Oh Theo--what is it? What is the matter?" she cried, as she saw his +face. + +He dropped wearily into a seat and told her in a few words the result +of his visit. + +"Oh, I am so sorry!" she exclaimed. "And it seems so hard to think +that you would have seen the bishop if you hadn't lost that five +dollars!" + +The boy sighed, but made no reply. He could not talk about it then, +and presently he got up and went out. + + + +XI. THEO'S NEW BUSINESS + + +Theodore went slowly down the stairs, but stopped on the outside steps +and stood there with his hands in his pockets looking listlessly up +and down the street. There was another big tenement house opposite, +and on its steps sat a girl of ten or eleven with a baby in her +lap. The baby kept up a low wailing cry, but the girl paid no +attention to it. She sat with her head leaning against the house, and +seemed to notice nothing about her. + +Theodore glanced at her indifferently. His thoughts were still +dwelling on his great disappointment--the sorrowful ending of the +hopes and longings of so many weeks. It seemed to him that he had now +nothing to which to look forward; nothing that was worth working for. +Then suddenly there flashed into his mind the words he had heard the +bishop speak to a man who came to him one day in great sorrow. + +"My life is spoiled," the man had said. "All my hopes and plans are +destroyed. What shall I do?" + +And the bishop had answered, "My son, you must forget yourself, and +your broken hopes and plans, and think of others. Do something for +somebody else--and keep on doing." + +"That's what he would say to me, I s'pose," thought the boy. "I wonder +what I can do. There's Tommy O'Brien, I 'spect he'd be glad 'nough to +see most anybody." + +He turned and went slowly and reluctantly back up the stairs. He +didn't want to see Tommy O'Brien. He didn't want to see anybody just +then, but still he went on to Tommy's door. As he approached it, he +heard loud, angry voices mingled with the crying of a baby. He +knocked, but the noise within continued, and after a moment's pause he +pushed open the door and went in. + +The three women who lived in the room were all standing with red, +angry faces, each trying to outscold the others. Three or four little +children, with frightened eyes, were huddled together in one corner, +while a baby cried unheeded on the floor, its mother being too much +occupied with the quarrel to pay any attention to her child. The +women glanced indifferently at Theodore as he entered, and kept on +with their loud talk. Theo crossed over to Tommy's cot. The sick boy +had pulled his pillow over his head and was pressing it close to his +ears to shut out the racket. + +"Le'me 'lone!" he exclaimed, as Theodore tried to lift the pillow. His +face was drawn with pain and there were dark hollows beneath his heavy +eyes. Such a weary, suffering face it was that a great flood of pity +surged over Theodore's heart at sight of it. Then Tommy opened his +eyes and as he saw who had pulled aside his pillow a faint smile crept +around his pale lips. + +"Oh!" he cried. "It's you. I thought 'twas some o' them a-pullin' off +my piller. Can't you make 'em stop, Tode? They've been a-fightin' off +an' on all day." He glanced at the noisy women as he spoke. + +"What's the row about?" asked Theo. + +"'Cause Mis' Carey said Mis' Green's baby was cross-eyed. Mis' Green +got so mad at that that she's been scoldin' 'bout it ever since an' +leavin' the baby to yell there by itself on the floor--poor little +beggar! Seem's if my head'll split open with all the noise," sighed +Tommy, wearily, then he brightened up as he inquired, "What d' you +come for, Tode?" + +"Just to talk to you a little," replied Theo. "S'pose you get awful +tired layin' here all the time, don't ye, Tommy?" + +The unexpected sympathy in the voice and look touched the lonely heart +of the little cripple. His eyes filled with tears, and he reached up +one skinny little hand and laid it on the rough, strong one of his +visitor as he answered, + +"Oh, you don't know--you don't know anything about it, Tode. I don't +b'lieve dyin' can be half so bad's livin' this way. She wishes I'd +die. She's said so lots o' times," he nodded toward his aunt, who was +one of the women in the room, "an' I wish so too, 'f I've got to be +this way always." + +"Ain't ye never had no doctor, Tommy?" asked Theo, with a quick catch +in his breath as he realised dimly what it would be to have such a +life to look forward to. + +"No--she says she ain't got no money for doctors," replied the boy, +soberly. + +"I'll"--began Theodore, then wisely concluding to raise no hopes that +might not be realised, he changed his sentence to, "I'll find out if +there's a doctor that will come for nothin'. I believe there is +one. Can ye read, Tommy?" + +The sick boy shook his head. "How could I?" he answered. "Ain't nobody +ter show me nothin'." + +"Wonder 'f I couldn't," said Theo, thoughtfully. "I c'n tell ye the +letters anyhow, an' that'll be better'n nothin'." + +A bit of torn newspaper lay on the floor beside the bed. He picked it +up and pointed out A, O and S, to Tommy. By the time the little +cripple had thoroughly mastered those three letters so that he could +pick them out every time, the women had given up their quarrel. +Mrs. Green had taken up her baby and was feeding it, and the other +women, with sullen faces, had resumed their neglected duties. + +"Oh dear! Must you go?" Tommy exclaimed as Theo got off the cot on +which he had been sitting. "But you was real good to come, +anyhow. When'll ye come again an' tell me some more letters?" + +"I'll show ye one ev'ry day if I can get time. Then in three weeks +you'll know all the big ones an' some o' the little ones that are just +like the big ones. Now don't ye forget them three." + +"You bet I won't. I shall say 'em a hundred times 'fore to-morrow," +rejoined the little fellow, and his eyes followed his new friend +eagerly until the door closed behind him. + +As for Theodore himself, half the weight seemed to have been lifted +from his own heart as he went down the stairs again. + +"I'll run outside a minute 'fore I go to supper," he said to +himself. "The air was awful thick in that room. Reckon that's one +thing makes Tommy feel so bad." + +He walked briskly around two or three squares, and as he came back to +the house he noticed that the girl and the baby still sat where he had +seen them an hour before. The baby's cry had ceased, but it began +again as Theo was passing the two. He stopped and looked at them. The +girl's eyes rested on his face with a dull, indifferent glance. + +"What makes it cry? Is it sick?" the boy asked, nodding toward the +baby. + +The girl shook her head. + +"What ails it then?" + +"Starvin'." + +The girl uttered the word in a lifeless tone as if it were a matter of +no interest to her. + +"Where's yer mother?" pursued the boy. + +"Dead." + +"An' yer father?" + +"Drunk." + +"Ain't there nobody to look out for ye?" + +Again the girl shook her head. + +"Ain't ye had anything to eat to-day?" + +"No." + +"What d'ye have yesterday?" + +"Some crusts I found in the street. Do go off an' le'me 'lone. We're +most dead, an' I'm glad of it," moaned the girl, drearily. + +"You gi' me that baby an' come along. I'll get ye somethin' to eat," +cried Theo, and as the girl looked up at him half doubtfully and half +joyfully, he seized the bundle of shawl and baby and hurried with it +up to Nan's room, the girl dragging herself slowly along behind him. + +Nan cast a doubtful and half dismayed glance at the two strangers as +Theodore ushered them in, but the boy exclaimed, + +"They're half starved, Nan. We _must_ give 'em somethin' to eat," +and when she saw the baby's little pinched face she hesitated no +longer, but quickly warmed some milk and fed it to the little one +while the girl devoured the bread and milk and meat set before her +with a ravenous haste that confirmed what she had said. + +Then, refreshed by the food, she told her pitiful story, the old story +of a father who spent his earnings in the saloon, leaving his +motherless children to live or die as might be. Nan's heart ached as +she listened, and Theodore's face was very grave. When the girl had +gone away with the baby in her arms, Theo said, earnestly, + +"Nan, I've got to earn more money." + +"How can you?" Nan asked. "You work so hard now, Theo." + +"I must work harder, Nan. I can't stand it to see folks starvin' an' +not help 'em. I'll pay you for what these two had you know." + +Nan looked at him reproachfully. "Don't you think I want to help too?" +she returned. "Do you think I've forgotten that meal you gave Little +Brother an' me?" + +"That was nothin'. Anyhow you've done lots more for me than ever I did +for you," the boy answered, earnestly, "but, Nan, how _can_ rich +folks keep their money for themselves when there are people--babies, +Nan--starvin' right here in this city?" + +"I suppose the rich folks don't know about them," replied the girl, +thoughtfully, as she set the table for supper. + +"I've got to talk it over with Mr. Scott," Theo said, as he drew his +chair up to the table. + +"You talk everything over with Mr. Scott now, don't you, Theo?" + +"'Most everything. He's fine as silk, Mr. Scott is. He rings true +every time, but he ain't"-- + +He left his sentence unfinished, but Nan knew of whom he was thinking. + +The next afternoon Theodore walked slowly through the business +streets, with eyes and ears alert, for some opening of which he might +take advantage to increase his income. Past block after block he +wandered till he was tired and discouraged. Finally he sat down on +some high stone steps to rest a bit, and while he sat there a coloured +boy came out of the building. He had a tin box and some rags in his +hands, and he began in an idle fashion to clean the brass railing to +the steps. Theodore fell into conversation with him, carelessly and +indifferently at first, but after a little with a sudden, keen +interest as the boy began to grumble about his work. + +"I ain't a-goin' ter clean these yer ol' railin's many more times," he +said. "It's too much work. I c'n git a place easy where the' ain't no +brasses to clean, an' I'm a-goin' ter, too. All the office boys hates +ter clean brasses." + +"What do ye clean 'em with?" Theodore inquired. + +The boy held out the tin box. "This stuff an' soft rags. Say--you want +ter try it?" + +He grinned as he spoke, but to his surprise his offer was +accepted. "Gi' me your rags," cried Theo, and he proceeded to rub and +polish energetically, until one side of the railings glittered like +gold. + +"Yer a gay ol' cleaner!" exclaimed the black boy, as he lolled in +blissful idleness on the top step. "Now go ahead with the other rail." + +But Theodore threw down the rags. + +"Not much," he answered. "I've done half your work an' you can do the +other half." + +"Oh, come now, finish up the job," remonstrated the other. "'Tain't +fair not to, for you've made that one shine so. I'll have ter put an +extry polish on the other to match it." + +But Theodore only laughed and walked off saying to himself, + +"Rather think this'll work first-rate." + +He went straight to a store, and asked for "the stuff for shining up +brass," and bought a box of it. Then he wondered where he could get +some clean rags. + +"Per'aps Mrs. Hunt'll have some," he thought, "an' anyhow I want to +see Jim." + +So home he hastened as fast as his feet would carry him. + +Good Mrs. Hunt was still a little cool to Theodore, though she could +see for herself how steady and industrious he was now, and how much he +had improved in every way; but she had never gotten over her first +impression of him, founded not only on his appearance and manners when +she first knew him, but also on Dick's evil reports in regard to +him. Now that Dick himself had gone so far wrong, his mother went +about with a heartache all the time, and found it hard sometimes to +rejoice as she knew she ought to do in the vast change for the better +in this other boy. + +"Is Jim here?" Theodore asked when Mrs. Hunt opened the door in +response to his knock. + +"Yes--what's wanted, Tode?" Jimmy answered for himself before his +mother could reply. + +"Can you stay out o' school to-morrow?" Theo questioned. + +"No, he can't, an' you needn't be temptin' him," broke in the mother, +quickly. + +"Oh, come now, ma, wait till ye hear what he wants," remonstrated +Jimmy, in whose eyes Theo was just about right. + +"I wanted him to run my stand to-morrow," said Theodore. "I've got +somethin' else to 'tend to. There's plenty o' fellers that would like +to run it for me, but ye see I can't trust 'em an' I _can_ trust +Jim every time." + +Jimmy drew himself up proudly. "Oh, ma, do let me stay out an' do it," +he cried, eagerly. + +"It's Friday, an' we don't have much to do Fridays anyhow, in our +school." + +"We-ell, I s'pose then you might stay out just this once," Mrs. Hunt +said, slowly, being fully alive to the advantages to Jimmy of such a +friendly feeling on Theo's part. She recognized Theodore's business +ability, and would have been only too glad to see her own boy develop +something of the same kind. She was haunted with a dread that he might +become idle and vicious as Dick had done. + +"All right, then," Theodore responded, promptly. "You be ready to go +down with me at seven o'clock, Jim, an' I'll see you started all right +before I leave you. Oh, Mrs. Hunt, there's one more thing I want. Have +you any clean old rags?" + +"For what?" + +"Any kind o' soft white cotton stuff or old flannel will do," replied +the boy, purposely leaving her question unanswered. "I'll pay you for +'em, of course, if you let me have 'em." + +"Well, I guess I ain't so stingy as all that comes to," exclaimed +Mrs. Hunt, sharply. "D'ye want 'em now?" + +"I'll come for 'em after supper," answered the boy, thinking that it +was best to make sure of them, lest he be delayed for want of them in +the morning. + +When later that evening, he knocked at her door, Mrs. Hunt had the +pieces ready for him, and the next morning, Jimmy was waiting in the +hall when Theo came from Nan's room with his big basket, and the two +boys went down the street carrying the basket between them. As soon as +its contents had been arranged as attractively as possible on the +clean white marbled oilcloth with which the stand was covered, and the +coffee made and ready to serve, Theo handed Jimmy two dollars in +dimes, nickels and pennies, to make change, and set off with the box +of paste in his pocket, and the roll of rags under his arm. + +Jimmy watched him out of sight, and then with a proud sense of +responsibility awaited the appearance of his customers. + +Theodore walked rapidly on till he reached the business streets where +most of the handsome stores and offices were. Then he slackened his +pace and went on slowly, glancing keenly at each building until he +came to one that had half a dozen brass signs on the front. + +"Here's a good place to make a try," he said to himself, and going +into the first office on the ground floor he asked as politely as he +knew how, + +"Can I shine up your brass signs for you?" + +There were several young men in the outer office. One of them answered +carelessly, "Yes indeed, shine 'em up, boy, and see 't you make a good +job of it." + +"I will that, sir," responded Theodore, blithely, and set to work with +a will. + +There had been much wet weather and the signs were badly +discoloured. It took hard, steady rubbing for nearly an hour to get +them into good shining order, but Theodore worked away vigourously +until they gleamed and glittered in the morning sunlight. Then he went +again into the office. + +"I've finished 'em, sir," he said to the young man to whom he had +spoken before, "an' I think I've made a good job of it. Will you step +out an' see what you think?" + +"Not at all necessary. If you're satisfied, I am," replied the man, +bending over his desk and writing rapidly. + +Theodore waited in silence. The young man wrote on. Finally he glanced +up and remarked in a tone of surprise, + +"Oh, you here yet? Thought you'd finished your job." + +"I have done my part. I'm waitin' for you to do yours," replied the +boy. + +"Mine? What's my part, I'd like to know?" demanded the young man, +sharply. + +"To pay me for my work." replied Theo, promptly, but with a shadow +falling on his face. + +"Pay you? Well, if this isn't cheeky! I didn't agree to pay you +anything." + +"But you knew that I expected to be paid for my work," persisted the +boy, the angry colour rising in his cheeks. + +"You expected--pshaw! Young man, you've had a lesson that is well +worth the time and labour you've expended," remarked the clerk in a +tone of great dignity. "Hereafter you will know better than to take +anything for granted in business transactions. Good-morning," and he +turned his back on the boy and began to write again. + +Theodore glanced around the room to see if there was any one on his +side, but two of the other clerks were grinning at his discomfiture, +and the others pretended not to know anything about the affair. He saw +now that he had been foolish to undertake the work as he had done, but +he realised that it would not help his case to make a fuss about +it. All the same he was unwilling to submit without a protest. + +"Next time I'll take care to make my bargain with a gentleman," he +said, quietly. + +He saw a singular change in the expression of the clerk's face at +these words, and as he turned sharply about to leave the office he +almost ran into a tall, grey-haired man who had just entered. + +"Stop a bit, my boy. I don't understand that remark of yours. What +bargain are you going to make with a gentleman?" + +The tone of authority, together with the disturbed face of one clerk +and the quite evident amusement of the others, suddenly enlightened +Theodore. He knew instinctively that this man was master here and in a +few quick sentences he told what had happened. + +The gentleman listened in silence, but his keen, dark eyes took note +of the flushed face of one clerk and the amused smiles of his +companions. + +"Is this boy's story true, Mr. Hammond?" he asked, sternly. + +Mr. Hammond could not deny it "It was only a joke, sir," he said, +uneasily. + +"A joke, was it?" responded his employer. "I am not fond of such +jokes." Then he turned again to the boy and inquired, "How much is due +you for cleaning the signs?" + +"I don't know. I'm just starting in in this business, an' I'm not sure +what I ought to charge. Can you tell me, sir?" + +The gentleman smiled down into the young face lifted so frankly to +his. + +"Why, no," he answered, gravely, but with a twinkle in his eyes. "I +believe our janitor usually attends to the signs." + +"Guess he don't attend to 'em very well, for they were awful dirty," +remarked the boy. "Took 'me 'most an hour to shine 'em up. Did you +notice 'em, sir, as you came in?" + +"No, I did not. I'll look at them now," and Theodore followed the +gentleman out to the steps. + +"Well, you have made a good job of it, certainly," the gentleman +said. "The signs haven't shone like that since they were first put +there. Quite a contrast to the others on the building. Come back +into the office a moment." + +He went back to Mr. Hammond's desk and again Theodore followed. + +"Mr. Hammond," said the gentleman, quietly, "you are willing of course +to pay for your joke. The boy has done his work extremely well. I +think he ought to have half a dollar for it." + +With anything but a happy expression, Mr. Hammond drew from his +pocket a half dollar and handed it to Theodore, who said, not to the +clerk, but to the gentleman, "Thank you, sir," and left the office. + +But he did not leave the building. He went to the owner of every brass +sign in or on the building and asked to be allowed to make every other +sign look as well as those of T.S. Harris, which he had just polished. + +Now, T.S. Harris was the owner of the building and the occupants of +the other offices considered that it would be wise to follow his +example in this matter, so the result was that Theodore spent all the +morning over the signs on that one building, and Mr. Harris having set +the price, he received twenty-five cents for each sign. He was just +putting a finishing rub on the last one when the janitor discovered +what had been going on. He came at the boy in a great rage for he +wanted no one to have anything to do with the care of the building +except those whom he chose to hire. + +"You take your traps an' clear out o' this now, an' don't you ever +dare to show your face here again," he shouted, angrily. "If I catch +ye here again I'll kick ye down the stairs!" + +"P'raps Mr. Harris will have a word to say about that," replied +Theodore, coolly, for in one and another of the offices he had picked +up enough to convince him that the word of Mr. Harris was law in that +building. Then he added, in a much more friendly tone, + +"Now, look here, mister. You're too busy a man to be cleaning +signs--'course you are. You've got to hire somebody t' do it an' the' +won't anybody do it better or fer less money 'n I will. I'm a-goin' to +make a reg'lar business of cleanin' brasses all 'round this +neighbourhood, an' if you'll stan' by me an' help me fix it all right +with the other bosses 'bout here--I'll see 't you don't lose anythin' +by it." + +The janitor's fierce frown had slowly faded as the boy spoke. Nothing +pleased him so much as to be considered a person of influence, and had +Theodore been ever so shrewd he could have adopted no other line of +argument that would so quickly and effectually have changed an enemy +into a friend as did this that he hit upon merely by chance. The man +stepped down to the sidewalk and looked up at the signs with a +critical air. + +"Wai'," he answered, slowly, "I ain't a-goin' to deny that you've done +your work well--yes a sight better'n any of the lazy rascals I've been +hiring, an' if you could be depended on now, I d'know but what I +might's well give the work to you as to anybody else. Of course, as +you say, 'tain't my place to do servant's work like brass cleanin'." + +"Of course not," assented Theo, promptly. + +"But then," the man went on, "if I should speak for ye t' the janitors +of the other buildings 'long here, 'n' get ye a big line o' custom, +'course I sh'ld have a right t' expect a--er--a sort o' commission on +the profits, so to speak?" + +"Oh!" replied Theodore, rather blankly. "What _is_ a commission, +anyhow?" + +The man explained. + +"And how much of a commission would you expect?" questioned the boy. + +The janitor made a mental calculation. Here on this one building, the +boy had cleaned seven signs. That made a dollar and seventy-five cents +that he had earned in one morning. Of course he would not often get so +much out of one building, but the man saw that there were good +possibilities in this line of work. + +"S'pose we say ten per cent.--ten cents out of every dollar?" he +ventured, with a keen glance at the boy. + +"You mean ten per cent, on all the work that I get through you?" Theo +replied. + +"Oh no--on _all_ the work of this sort that you do. That's no +more'n fair since you'll owe your start to me." + +"Not much! I owe my start to myself, an' I'll make no such bargain as +that," answered Theo, decidedly. "I'm willin' to give you ten per +cent. on all that I get through you, but not a cent more. You see I'm +bound to put this thing through whether you help me or not," he added, +quietly. + +The janitor saw that he had been too grasping and hastened to modify +his demands lest he lose his commissions altogether. + +"Well, well," he said, soothingly, "we won't quarrel over a little +difference like that. Let it be as you say, ten per cent. on all the +jobs I get for ye, an' there's the janitor of the Laramie Building on +the steps this minute. Come along with me an' I'll give ye a start +over there--or, first--ain't there a little matter to attend to," he +added, with an insinuating smile. "You'll settle your bills fast as +they come due, of course, an' you've got a snug little sum out of my +building here." + +"Yes, but no thanks to you for that," replied Theo, but as the man's +face darkened again, he added, "but never mind, I'll give you the +commission on this work since it's in your building," and he handed +eighteen cents to the janitor, who slipped it into his pocket with an +abstracted air as if unconscious of what he was doing. + +The result of the man's recommendation to his brother janitor was that +Theodore secured the promise of all the brass cleaning in the Laramie +Building also, and that with one or two small jobs kept him busy until +dark when he went home with a light heart and with the sum of three +dollars and fourteen cents in his pocket. To be sure he had worked +hard all day to earn it, but Theodore never had been lazy and he was +willing enough to work hard now. + +He carried home some oranges as a special treat that night, for now he +took his supper regularly with Nan who was glad to make a return in +this fashion for the help he was continually giving her in carrying +out her food supplies, as well as many other ways. + +As they arose from the supper-table, Theodore said, "I'll go across +an' see how Jimmy got on to-day, at the stand," but even as he spoke +there came a low knock at the door and there stood Jimmy--no longer +proud and happy as he had been in the morning, but with red eyes and a +face full of trouble. + +"Why, Jimmy, what's the matter?" cried Nan and Theo, in one voice. + +"Come in," added Nan, kindly pulling him in and gently pushing him +toward a chair. + +Jimmy dropped into it with an appealing glance at Theo. + +"I'm--I'm awful sorry, Tode," he began. "But I--I couldn't help it, +truly I couldn't." He rubbed his sleeve hastily across his eyes as he +spoke. + +"But what is it, Jimmy? I'm sure you did the best you could whatever +is wrong, but do tell us what it is," exclaimed Theodore, half +laughing and half impatient at the uncertainty. + +"'Twas that mean ol' Carrots," began Jimmy, indignantly. "I was +sellin' things off in fine style, Tode, an' Carrots, he came along an' +he said he wanted three san'wiches in a paper. I put 'em up fer him, +an' then he asked fer six doughnuts an' some gingerbread, an' a cup o' +coffee--an' he wanted 'em all in a paper." + +"Not the coffee, Jimmy," said Nan, laughingly, as the boy stopped to +take breath. + +"No, 'course not the coffee. He swallered that an' put in a extry +spoonful o' sugar too, but he wanted all the rest o' the things in a +paper bag, an' I did 'em up good for him, an' then he asked me to tie +a string 'round 'em, an' I got down under the stand for a piece of +string, an' when I found it, an' looked up--don't you think Tode--that +rascal was streakin' it down the street as fast's he could go, an' I +couldn't leave the stand to run after him, an' 'course the' wasn't any +p'lice 'round, an' so I had to let him go. I'm awful sorry, Theo, but +I couldn't help it." + +"'Course you couldn't, Jimmy. And is that all the trouble?" + +"Yes, that's 'nough, ain't it?" answered Jimmy, mournfully. "He got +off with more'n forty cents worth o' stuff--the old pig! I'll fix him +yet!" + +"Well, don't worry any more over it, Jimmy. Losin' th' forty cents +won't break me, I guess," said Theo, kindly. + +Jimmy brightened up a little, but the shadow again darkened his face +as he said, anxiously, "I s'pose you won't never trust me to run the +stand again?" + +"Trust you, Jimmy? Well, I guess I will. No danger of _your_ +trusting Carrots again, I'm sure." + +"Not if I know myself," responded Jimmy, promptly, and Theo went on, + +"I s'pose your mother wouldn't want you to stay out of school mornin's +for a week or two?" + +Jimmy looked at him with sparkling eyes. + +"Do you mean"--he began, breathlessly, and then paused. + +"I mean that I may want you to run the stand for me all next week, as +well as to-morrow," Theo answered. + +"Oh--ee! That's most too good to b'lieve," cried the little +fellow. "Say! I think you're--you're prime, Tode. I must go an' tell +ma," and he dashed out of the door, his face fairly beaming with +delight. + +"It's worth while to make anybody so happy, isn't it, Theo?" Nan said, +then she added, thoughtfully, "Do you think the brass-cleaning will +take all your time, so you can't be at the stand any more?" + +"Just at first it will. Maybe I shall fix it differently after a +while," he answered. + +On his way to the business district the next morning, he stopped and +bought a blank book and a pencil, and wherever he cleaned a sign or a +railing that day, he tried to make a regular engagement to keep the +brasses in good condition. If he secured a promise of the work by the +month he made a reduction on his price, and every business man--or +janitor who regularly engaged him, was asked to write his own name in +the new blank book. Not on the first page of the book, however. That +the boy kept blank until about the time when Mr. Harris had come to +his office the day before. At that hour, Theodore was waiting near the +office door, and there Mr. Harris found him as he came up the steps. + +"Good-morning, sir," said Theo, pulling off his cap with a smile +lighting up his plain face. + +"Good-morning," returned the gentleman. "Have you found something +else to polish up here to-day?" + +"No, sir, but I wanted to ask you if you would sign your name here in +my book," the boy replied. + +Mr. Harris looked amused. "Come into my office," he said, "and tell me +what it is that you want." + +Theodore followed him across the outer office to the private room +beyond. The clerks cast curious glances after the two, and Hammond +scowled as he bent over his desk. + +"Now let me see your book," said Mr. Harris, as the door of the office +swung silently behind them. + +Theo laid his rags and paste box on the carpet, and then put the blank +book on the desk as he said, earnestly, + +"You see, sir, I'm trying to work up a reg'lar business, an' so I want +the business men I work for to engage me by the month to take care of +their brass work--an' I guess I did learn a lesson here yesterday, for +to-day I've asked every gentleman who has engaged me to sign his name +in this book--See?" + +He turned over the leaves and showed three names on the second page. + +"And you want my name there, too? But I haven't engaged you. I only +gave you a job yesterday." + +"But your janitor has engaged me," answered Theodore, quickly. + +"Well, then, isn't it the janitor's name that you want?" + +"Oh, no, sir," cried the boy, earnestly. "Nobody knows the janitor, +but I guess lots o' folks know you, an' your name would make others +sign--don't you see?" + +Mr. Harris laughed. "I see that you seem to have a shrewd business +head. You'll make a man one of these days if you keep on. And you want +my name on this first page?" he added, dipping his pen into the +inkstand. + +"Yes, because you was my first friend in this business," replied +Theodore. + +Mr. Harris glanced at him with that amused twinkle in his eye, but he +signed his name on the first page. + +Then he said, "I wish you success in your undertaking, and here's a +trifle for a send-off." He held out a silver dollar as he spoke, but +Theodore did not take it. + +"Thank ye, sir," he said, gratefully; "you've been real good to me, +but I can't take any money now, 'cept what I earn. I c'n earn all I +need." + +"So?" replied Mr. Harris, "you're independent. Well, I like that, but +I'll keep this dollar for you, and if you ever get in a tight place +you can come to me for it." + +"Thank you, Mr. Harris," said the boy again. "I won't forget, but I +hope I won't need it," and then he picked up his belongings and left +the office. As he passed Mr. Hammond's desk, he said, "Good-morning, +sir," but the clerk pretended not to hear. + +All through the next week and for weeks after, Theodore spent his time +from nine to five o'clock, cleaning brasses and making contracts for +the regular care of them, until he had secured as much work as he +could attend to himself. + +Meantime, Jimmy Hunt had taken entire charge of the stand and was +doing well with it. Theo gave him four-fifths of the profits and he +was perfectly satisfied, and so was his mother, who found his earnings +a welcome addition to the slim family income, and it was so near the +end of the school term that she concluded it did not matter if Jimmy +did stay out the few remaining weeks. + +But busy as Theodore was, he still found time to carry out what Nan +cooked for the people in the two houses, as well as to drop in on one +and another of his many neighbours every evening--for by this time the +night school had closed for the season. His Saturday evenings were +still spent at the flower stand, and now that blossoms were more +plentiful, he received more and better ones in payment for his work, +and his Sunday morning visits to the different rooms were looked +forward to all the week by many of those to whom he went, and hardly +less so by himself, for the boy was learning by glad experience the +wonderful joy that comes from giving happiness to others. When he saw +how the flowers he carried to stuffy, dirty, crowded rooms, were kept +and cherished and cared for even until they were withered and dead--he +was sure that his little flower mission was a real blessing. + +Before the hot weather came, Tommy O'Brien was carried away out of the +noisy, crowded room to the Hospital for Incurables. Theo had brought +one of the dispensary doctors to see the boy, and through the doctor's +efforts and those of Mr. Scott, Tommy had been received into the +hospital. He had never been so comfortable in his brief life as he was +there, but at first he was lonely, and so Theodore went once or twice +a week to see him, and he never failed to save out some flowers to +carry to Tommy on Sunday. + +But, however full Theodore's time might be, and however busy his +hands, he never forgot the search for Jack Finney. His eyes were +always watching for a blue-eyed, sandy-haired boy of sixteen, and he +made inquiries for him everywhere. Three times he heard of a boy +named Finney, and sought him out only to be disappointed, for the +first Jack Finney he found was a little chap of ten or eleven, and the +next was a boy of sixteen, but with hair and eyes as black as a +Jew's--and besides, it turned out that his name wasn't Finney at all, +but Findlay; and the third time, the boy he found was living at home +with his parents, so Theo knew that no one of the three was the boy of +whom he was in search and although he did not in the least give up the +matter, he came to the conclusion at last that his Jack Finney must +have left the city. + +Mr. Scott interested himself in the search because of his great +interest in Theodore, and he went to the reform school and the prison, +but the name he sought was on neither record. + +Although Theodore said nothing to any one about it, he was also on the +lookout for another boy, and that boy was Carrots. Ever since Carrots +had stolen the food from the stand, Theo had wanted to find him. More +than once he had caught a glimpse in the streets of the lank figure +and the frowzy red head, but Carrots had no desire to meet Theo and he +took good care to keep out of his way. + + + +XII. NAN FINDS FRIENDS + + +So the spring days slipped away until March and April were gone and +the middle of May had come. Theodore was counting the days now, for it +was in May that the bishop was to return--so Mrs. Martin had told +him--and the boy began to watch eagerly for the word that the +housekeeper had promised to send him. So full of this were his +thoughts and so busy was he with his work for himself and for others, +that he spent much less time than usual with Nan and Little Brother. + +About this time there was a week of extremely hot weather. One day +toward the close of this week as Theodore was passing Mrs. Hunt's +door, she called him in. + +"You'd better come here for your supper to-night," she said. + +Theodore looked at her with a quick, startled glance. + +"Why--where's Nan?" he inquired. + +"Nan's in her room, but she can't get you any supper to-night. She's +sick. I've seen for weeks past that Nan was overworkin' with all that +cooking she's been doin', and to-day she just gave out--an' she's flat +on her back now." + +Theodore was silent in blank dismay. Until that moment he had not +realised how much he had come to depend upon Nan. + +"Has she had a doctor, or anything?" he asked, in such a troubled +voice that Mrs. Hunt could not but be sorry for him. + +"No, I offered to send Jimmy for a doctor, but she said she only +wanted to rest, but I tell you what, Theo, she ain't goin' to get much +rest in that room, hot's an oven with the constant cooking, an' what's +more that baby can't stand it neither." + +"I'll go an' see her," replied the boy, slowly, "an'--I guess I don't +want any supper to-night, Mrs. Hunt." + +"Yes, you do want supper, too, Theodore. You come back here in half +an hour an' get it, an' look here--Don't worry Nan, talkin' 'bout her +being sick," Mrs. Hunt called after him in a low voice, as he turned +toward the girl's door. + +It seemed strange enough to Theodore to see bright, energetic Nan +lying with pale face and idle hands on the bed. She smiled up at the +boy as he stood silent beside the bed finding no words to say. + +"I'm only tired, Theo," she said, gently. "It has been so hot to-day, +and Little Brother fretted so that I couldn't get through my work so +well as usual." + +"He's sick too," answered Theodore, gravely. + +Nan turned her head to look at the little white face on the pillow +beside her. + +"Yes, he's sick. Oh Theo"--and then the girl covered her face with her +hands, and Theodore saw the tears trickling through her fingers. + +"Don't Nan, don't!" he cried, in a choked voice, and then he turned +and ran out of the room and out of the house. Straight to his teacher +he went, sure of finding there sympathy, and if possible, help. + +He was not disappointed. Mr. Scott listened to what he had to say, and +wrote a note to a friend of his own who was a physician, asking him to +see Nan and the baby at his earliest convenience. Then having +comforted Theodore, and compelled him to take some supper, Mr. Scott +sent him away greatly refreshed, and proceeded to talk the matter over +with his aunt, Mrs. Rawson. + +"Those two children ought to be sent away into the country, Aunt +Mary," he began. + +"Nan and Theodore, do you mean?" + +"No, no! Theodore's all right. He's well and strong. I mean Nan and +her little brother. Aunt Mary, it would make your heart ache to see +such a girl as that working as she has worked, and living among such +people. I wish you would go and see the child." + +"I'll try to go to-morrow, Allan. I've been intending to ever since +you told me about her, but the days do slip away so fast!" answered +the lady. + +But she found time to go the next day, and the first sight of Nan's +sweet face was enough to make her as deeply interested in the two as +her nephew had long been. + +"But what an uncomfortable place for a sick girl!" Mrs. Rawson +thought, as she glanced at the shutterless windows through which the +sun was pouring, making the small room almost unbearably hot, although +there was no fire in the stove. She noticed that the place was +daintily clean and neat, though bare as it well could be, but noisy +children were racing up and down the stairways and shouting through +the halls, making quiet rest impossible. Mrs. Rawson's kind heart +ached as she looked from the room to the pure face of the girl lying +there with the little child beside her. + +"She must be a very unusual girl to look like that after living for +months in this place," she thought to herself. + +While she was there the doctor came, and when he went away, +Mrs. Rawson went with him that she might tell him what she knew about +the girl's life and learn what he thought of the case. + +"It is a plain case of overwork," he said. "From what you tell me the +girl has been doing twice as much as she was able to do, and living in +that little oven of a room with nothing like the fresh air and +exercise she should have had, and very likely not half enough to +eat. The baby seems extremely delicate. Probably it won't live through +the summer, and a good thing too if there's no one but the girl to +provide for them. What they need is--to go straight away into the +country and stay there all summer, or better yet, for a year or two, +but I suppose that is out of the question." + +"I must see what can be done, doctor. Such a girl as that surely ought +not to be left to struggle along unfriended." + +"No, but there are so many such cases. Well, I hope something can be +done for her. I'll call and see her again to-morrow, but medicine is +of little use in a case like this," the doctor replied. + +Mrs. Rawson was not one to "let the grass grow under her feet," when +she had anything to do, and she felt that she had something to do in +this case. She thought it over as she went home, and before night she +had written to a relative in the country--a woman who had a big farm +and a big heart--to ask if she would board Nan and her little brother +for the summer. She described the two, and told how bravely the girl +had battled with poverty and misfortune until her strength had +failed. The letter went straight from the warm heart of the writer to +that of her friend and the response was prompt. + +"Send those two children right to me, and if rest and pure air and +plenty of wholesome food are what they need, please God, they shall +soon be strong and well. They are surely His little ones, and you know +I am always ready and glad to do His work." + +Such was the message that Mrs. Rawson read to her nephew two days +after her visit to Nan, and his face was full of satisfaction as he +listened to it. + +"Nothing could be better," he said. "It will be a splendid place for +those children, and it will be a good thing too for Mrs. Hyde to have +them there." + +"Yes, I think so," replied Mrs. Rawson, "but now the question is--will +Nan consent to go? From what little I have seen of her I judge that +she will not be at all willing to accept help from strangers." + +"She will shrink from it, perhaps, for herself, but for the sake of +that little brother I think she will consent to go. Theo tells me that +she has been exceedingly anxious about the child for weeks past," +answered Mr. Scott. + +"Well, I'll go to-morrow and see if I can prevail upon her to accept +this offer, but Allan, one thing you must do, if Nan does consent to +go--and that is, you must break it to Theodore. It's going to be a +blow to him, to have those two go away from the city. He'll be left +entirely alone." + +"So he will. I hadn't thought of that. I must think it over and see +what can be done for him. He certainly must not stay there, with no +place but that dark little closet in which he sleeps," replied the +gentleman. + +Mrs. Rawson's kindly sympathy and gentle manners had quickly won Nan's +confidence and the girl welcomed her warmly when she appeared in the +little room the next morning. She found Nan sitting by the open +window, with her pale little brother in her arms. + +"Oh, I'm ever so much better," she said, in reply to Mrs. Rawson's +inquiries. "The doctor's medicine helped me right away, but I don't +feel very strong yet--not quite well enough to begin my cooking +again. I'm going to begin it to-morrow," she added. + +"Indeed, you'll not do any cooking to-morrow, Nan," said the lady, +decidedly. "You're not fit to stand over the stove or the mixing +board, and besides, it would make the room too hot for the baby." + +Nan glanced anxiously at the little face on her arm. + +"I can carry him in to Mrs. Hunt's. He's no trouble, and she's always +willing to keep him," she answered. + +"Now, my child, I want you to listen to me," Mrs. Rawson began, and +went on to tell the girl about the plans she had made for her and her +little brother. + +Nan listened, with the colour coming and going in her face. + +"It is so good--so kind of you to think of this," she exclaimed, +earnestly, "and I'd _love_ to go. Mrs. Rawson, you don't know how +I hate living in a place like this," she shuddered, as she spoke, "and +it would be like heaven to get away into the sweet clean country, with +good people--but I can't go unless there is something I can do +there. I _couldn't_ go and live on charity, you know." + +"It wouldn't be charity, Nan; it would be love," answered Mrs. Rawson, +gently. "Mrs. Hyde keeps one room in her house always ready for any +guest whom the Lord may send her and I think He is sending you there +now. Remember, my child, you have this dear sick baby to think of, as +well as yourself. Nan, the doctor thinks Little Brother will not live +through the summer unless he is taken away from the city." + +Nan gave a quick, gasping breath, as she drew the baby closer and bent +her face over his. When she looked up again her eyes were wet, and +she said, in a low tone, + +"If that is so, I can't refuse this kind offer, and I will try to find +some way to make it right." + +"There's nothing to make right, dear; you've only to go and be just as +happy and contented as you can be. I know you will be happy there. +You can't help loving Mrs. Hyde. And now, my child, there's another +matter." She paused and added, in a low tone, "I had a little girl +once, but God took her away from my home. She would have been about +your age now if she had staid with me. For her sake, Nan, I want you +to let me get a few things that you and the baby will need. Will you, +dear?" + +Nan was proud. She had never gotten accustomed to poverty and its +painful consequences, and she would have preferred to do without, any +time, rather than accept a gift from those on whom she had no claim; +but she realised that she could not go among strangers with only the +few poor garments that she now had, so, after a moment's silence, she +answered, in a voice that was not quite steady, + +"You are very, very good to me, Mrs. Rawson. I'll try to be good too, +only, please don't get a single thing that I can do without." + +"Nan, if you had plenty of money and you found a girl who had been +left all alone in the world, with no one to do anything for her--would +you think it was any wonderful kindness in you to spend a few dollars +for her?" + +"N--no, of course not. I'd just _love_ to do it," replied Nan, +"but"-- + +"That's enough, then, and now there's only one more thing I have to +speak about. I know some girls, who have formed themselves into a band +called a 'King's Daughter Circle,' and they meet once a week to sew +for somebody who is not able to do her own sewing. I've told these +girls a little about you and they want very much to do some sewing for +Little Brother and you. Now, would you be willing to let them come +here to-morrow afternoon? Would it trouble you?" + +The colour rose in Nan's cheeks and her lips trembled, and for a +moment she seemed to shrink into herself as she thought what a +contrast her poor surroundings would be to these other girls, who +lived such different lives from hers, but she saw that Mrs. Rawson was +really desirous that they should come, and she was not willing to +disappoint one who was doing so much for her; so after a moment's +silence she answered, + +"Of course they can come, if you think they won't mind too much." She +glanced about the room as she spoke. + +Mrs. Rawson leaned over and kissed her. "Child," she said, "they know +nothing about the trials that come into other lives--like yours. I +want them to know you. Don't worry one bit over their coming. They are +dear girls and I'm sure you will like them--as sure as I am that they +will all love you--and Nan, one thing more, leave Mr. Scott to tell +Theodore about your going." + +Then she went away, leaving Nan with many things to think about. She +could not help worrying somewhat over the coming of those girls. As +she recalled her own old home, she realised how terribly bare and poor +her one room would look to these strangers and she shrank nervously +from the thought of meeting them. More than once, she was tempted to +ask Theo to go to Mrs. Rawson and tell her that the girls could not +come there. + +Mrs. Rawson went straight from Nan's room to the shopping district, +where she purchased simple but complete outfits for Nan and the +baby. The under garments and the baby's dresses she bought ready-made +and also a neat wool suit for the girl and hats and wraps for both, +but she bought enough pretty lawn and gingham to make as many wash +dresses as Nan would require, and these she carried home and cut out +the next morning. That evening too she sent notes to the members of +the circle telling them to meet at her house before one o'clock the +next day, which was Saturday. + +They came promptly, eleven girls between fifteen and seventeen, each +with her sewing implements. Bright, happy girls they were, as Nan +might have been, had her life been peaceful and sheltered like theirs, +Mrs. Rawson thought, as she welcomed them. + +"Sit down, girls," she said, "I want to tell you more about my poor +little Nan before you see her." + +She told the story in such fashion that the warm, girlish hearts were +filled with a sweet and tender sympathy for this other girl, and they +were eager to do all that they could for her. + +Not one of them had ever before been in a tenement house like the one +to which Mrs. Rawson led them, and they shrank from the rude children +and coarse women whom they encountered in the halls and on the stairs, +and pressed closer together, grasping each other's hands. + +Nan's face whitened and her thin hands were clasped tightly together +as she heard them coming along the hall. She knew it was they, so +different were their quiet footsteps from most that passed her door. + +Nan opened the door in response to Mrs. Rawson's knock and the girls +flocked in, looking so dainty and pretty in their fresh shirt-waists +and dimities, and their gay ribbons. As Nan looked at them she was +painfully conscious of her own faded calico and worn shoes, and her +cheeks flushed, but the girls gave her no time to think of these +things. They crowded about her, introducing each other with merry +laughter and gay little jokes, seeming to take Nan right in among them +as one of themselves, and taking prompt possession of the baby, who +wasn't a bit shy, and appeared to like to be passed from one to +another, and kissed, and called sweet names. + +Nan had borrowed all Mrs. Hunt's chairs, but still there were not +enough, and three or four girls gleefully settled themselves on the +bed. Every one of them had come with her hands full of flowers, and +seeing these, Mrs. Rawson had brought along a big glass rose bowl, +which the girls speedily filled and set in the middle of the table. + +A tap at the door announced the arrival of a boy with a box and a bag +for Mrs. Rawson, and out of the box she lifted a baby sewing machine, +which she fastened to the table. Then from the bag she took the lawn +and gingham as she said, + +"Now, girls, your tongues can run just as fast as your fingers sew, +but remember this tiny machine works very rapidly and you've got to +keep it supplied. I'll hem this skirt first." + +In an instant every girl had on her thimble, and they all set to work +with right good will. + +"Can't I do some, too?" said Nan. "I don't want to be the only idle +one." + +"You can gather some ruffles in a few minutes--as soon as I have +hemmed them," answered Mrs. Rawson, smiling to herself, as she saw how +bright and interested Nan looked already. + +All that long, bright afternoon tongues and needles were about equally +busy. Fortunately it was cooler, else the girls would have been +uncomfortable in the small room, but as it was, not even Nan gave more +than a passing thought to the bare room and its lack of +comfort. Indeed, after the first few moments, Nan forgot all about +herself and just gave herself up to the delight of being once more a +girl among girls. She thought them lovely, every one, and indeed they +were lovely to her in every way, for her sweet face and gentle manners +had won them all at first sight. How they did chatter! Never before +had that room--or indeed any room in that dreary building, held such a +company as gathered there that day. + +At half-past five there came another rap on the door, and Mrs. Rawson +exclaimed, "Put up your sewing, girls. We've business of another sort +to attend to now." + +The girls looked at her inquiringly as Nan opened the door again. + +"Bring them in," called Mrs. Rawson, and a man edged his way gingerly +among the girls and set two big baskets and an ice cream freezer +beside the table. + +"A house picnic! Mrs. Rawson, you're a darling!" called one and +another of the girls. + +Mrs. Rawson nodded a laughing acknowledgment of the compliment, as she +said, "Open the baskets, girls. The dishes are in the round one. I +thought Nan might not be prepared for quite such a family party." + +With quick, deft fingers the girls swept aside the sewing, unscrewed +the little machine, spread a fine damask cloth over the pine table, +and on it arranged the pretty green and gold dishes and glasses, +putting the big bowl of roses in the centre. + +Then from the other basket they took tiny buttered biscuits, +three-cornered sandwiches, tied with narrow green ribbons, a dish of +chicken salad, and a big loaf of nut cake. All these quite covered the +table so that the cream had to be left in the freezer until it was +wanted. + +How Nan did enjoy that feast! How her eyes shone with quiet happiness +as she watched the bright faces and listened to the merry talk; not +all merry either, for more than once it touched upon the deep things +of life, showing that the girls had thought much, even if their lives +had been happy, sheltered ones. + +When the feast was ended, the dishes repacked in the basket, and the +unfinished work put away, the girls gathered about Nan to say +"good-bye," and she wondered how she could have dreaded their +coming,--for now it seemed as if she could not let them go. She felt +as if all the joyous brightness would vanish with them. The quick +young eyes read something of this feeling in her face, and more than +one girl left a kiss with her cordial farewell. + +The room seemed very still and lonely to Nan when the last flutter of +light dresses was gone and the last faint echo of girlish voices and +footsteps had died on her eagerly listening ears. She dropped into the +rocking-chair and looked about the room, trying to repeople it with +those fair, young, friendly faces. She could almost have imagined it +all a dream but for the cake and sandwiches and ice cream on the +table. + +The sight of the fast melting cream suggested another thought to +her. Hastily filling a plate with portions of everything on the table, +she set it away for Theodore and then went across to Mrs. Hunt's rooms +to tell her to come with the children and take all that was left. + +The eyes of the children gleamed with delight at sight of the +unexpected treat, and they speedily emptied the dishes which their +mother then carried home to wash, while the children took back the +borrowed chairs. + +By this time Nan began to feel very weary, and she threw herself down +on the bed with the baby, but she kept in her hand some little scrips +of the pretty lawns and ginghams that she had found on the floor. It +seemed hardly possible to her that she could be going to have such +dresses. Why--one of the scrips was exactly like a waist that one of +those girls had worn. Nan gazed at it with a smile on her lips, a +smile that lingered there until it was chased away by the remembrance +of Theo's loneliness when she and Little Brother should be far away. + + + +XIII. NAN'S DEPARTURE + + +Theo was feeling that he needed sympathy about that time, for it +seemed to him as if every one that he cared for was to be taken away +from him. + +Mr. Scott had invited the boy to go with him for a row on the river +and then to go home with him to supper. The river was beautiful in the +afternoon sunlight, and Theodore enjoyed the row and the friendly talk +with his teacher, but he felt a little shy with Mrs. Rawson and was +not sorry to find her absent from the supper-table. + +When the meal was over Mr. Scott took the boy up to his own room to +see some of his curiosities. Theo's quick eyes took silent note of +everything, and he mentally decided that some day he would have just +such a room as that. He was thinking thus, when Mr. Scott said, + +"Theo, you haven't asked me what Dr. Reed thinks about Nan and her +little brother." + +"She's better to-day--Nan is," exclaimed the boy, quickly. + +"Yes, I suppose the medicine has toned her up a little, but the doctor +says that she must have a long rest. She has been working too hard." + +"Well, she can. I'm earnin' enough now to take care of 'em," +interposed the boy. + +"Nan would never be content to let you do that, I think, but, Theo, +that isn't all." + +Theo said nothing, but his anxious eyes asked the question that his +lips refused to utter. + +Mr. Scott went on, "The doctor says that the baby must go away into +the country or--he will die." + +Theodore walked quickly to the window, and stood there looking out in +silence. After a moment, his teacher crossed the room and laid his arm +affectionately over the boy's shoulders. + +"Sit down, Theodore," he said, gently, "I want to tell you what we +have planned for Nan and the little one." + +Then in few words he told of Mrs. Rawson's letter and the reply, +describing the beautiful country home to which Nan and the baby were +to go. + +"You will be glad to think of them in such a place during the hot +summer days," he went on, "even though their going leaves you very +lonely, as I know it will, Theodore." + +"I ought to be glad, Mr. Scott," replied the boy, slowly, as his +teacher paused, "an' I am, but ye see you don't know how hard 'tis for +a feller to keep straight when he ain't got no home an' nobody to talk +to after his work's done at night. Nan--well _you_ know she ain't +like the rest o' the folks down our way. She never scolds nor nags at +me, but somehow I can't ever look her straight in the eye if I've been +doin' anything mean." + +"Nan has been a good friend to you, I'm sure, and I think you have +been a good friend to her and the baby, Theodore. I know that she will +miss you sadly at first, and if she thinks you are to be very lonely +without them, I'm afraid she will worry about it and not get as much +good from the change as she might otherwise," Mr. Scott added. + +The boy drew a long breath. "I won't let her know 't I care much 'bout +their goin'," he said, bravely. + +"Nan will guess quite enough," answered the gentleman, "but, Theodore, +how would you like to come here? Mrs. Rawson has a little room over +the L that she seldom uses, and she says that you can sleep there if +you like, and pay for it the same that you pay for the dark room that +you now have." + +The boy's eyes were full of surprise and pleasure as he answered, +gratefully, "I'd like that fine!" + +"Come on, then, and we'll take a look at the place. It has been used +as a storeroom and will, of course, need some fixing up." + +As Mr. Scott threw open the door of the L room Theodore stepped in and +looked about him with shining eyes. It was a long, low room with +windows on three sides. The floor was covered with matting and the +walls with a light, cheerful paper. + +"This for me!" exclaimed the boy. "Why, Mr. Scott, it's--it's too fine +for a chap like me." + +"Not a bit, my boy, but I think you can be very comfortable here, and +you will know that you have friends close at hand. And now, Theodore, +I suppose you will want to get home, for we hope to get Nan away next +week." + +"So soon!" cried the boy, a shadow falling on the face, a moment +before so bright. + +"Yes, the sooner the better for the little one's sake," replied +Mr. Scott, gravely. + +"You've been mighty good to me--an' to Nan," said the boy, simply, and +then he went away. + +He walked rapidly through the streets, taking no note of what was +passing around him, his thoughts were so full of this new trouble, for +a great and sore trouble it seemed to him to lose Nan and Little +Brother out of his life even for a few weeks. His way led him across +the Common, but he hurried along with unseeing eyes until suddenly +something bright attracted his attention, and he became aware that it +was a shock of rough red hair under a ragged old cap. It was surely +Carrots sitting on one of the benches, his eyes gazing moodily across +the greensward to the street beyond. He did not notice Theo's +approach, but started up quickly, as the latter stopped in front of +him. + +"Hold on, Carrots--don't clear out. I want to tell you something," +cried Theo, hastily, laying a detaining hand on one ragged sleeve. + +Carrots looked at him suspiciously. "D'know what yer got ter say ter +me," he growled. + +"Sit down here, an' I'll tell ye." + +Theodore sat down on the bench as he spoke, and after a moment's +hesitation the other boy dropped down beside him, but he kept a wary +glance on his companion, and was plainly ready to "cut and run" at a +moment's notice. + +"You look's if you were down on your luck," began Theo, with a glance +at the ragged garments, and dilapidated shoes of the other. + +"'Course--I'm always down on my luck," responded Carrots, in a tone +that implied, "what business is that of yours?" + +"Sellin' papers now?" + +"Yes, but a feller can't make a livin' out o' that. There's too many +kids in the business, an' folks'll buy o' the kids ev'ry time, 'n' +give us big fellers the go-by," Carrots said, in a gloomy tone. + +"That's so. The little chaps always sell most," assented +Theodore. "Why don't you get into some other business, Carrots?" + +"Can't--'cause my money's all tied up in railroad stock," retorted +Carrots, with bitter sarcasm. + +"Carrots, what made ye play such a mean trick on Jim Hunt the other +day?" asked Theodore, suddenly. + +Carrots grinned. "Hunt's a fool," he answered, "else he wouldn't 'a' +give me a chance ter work him so slick." + +"Well, I don't think you'll play it on him again. I think you were the +fool, Carrots, for you know well enough you can't get such good stuff +anywhere else for your money, an' now ye can't go to my stand." + +"Got it 'thout money that time," chuckled Carrots, impudently, but +still keeping a sharp eye on his companion. + +Theo flushed, and his fingers itched to pitch into the boy and give +him a good drubbing, but he controlled himself, and said, quietly, +"What's the trouble with you, Carrots? Are you too lazy to work, or +what?" + +The boy's eyes flashed angrily, as he replied, "See here, Tode +Bryan--what ye pokin' yer nose int' my business for, anyhow?" + +"'Cause I can put you in the way of earnin' honest money if you're +willin' to do honest work." + +"What sort o' work?" Carrots inquired, suspiciously. + +"I'll tell ye 'bout it when I'm sure you're ready to take hold of it, +an' not before. See here, Carrots, I've seen you lately loafin' 'round +with some o' the meanest fellers in this town, an' if you don't keep +away from them you'll find yourself where some of 'em have been +a'ready--behind the bars. I mean well by ye, an' if you make up your +mind to be a man instead of a tramp an' a loafer, you can come to me, +an' I'll give ye a start. Jim Hunt'll tell ye where to find me." + +The night shadows were falling now and the street lamps were already +lighted, and seeing this, Theodore started up, adding, "It's later'n I +thought. I must be off," and he hurried away, leaving Carrots looking +after him in a much bewildered state of mind. + +Theodore found Nan sitting by the window in the dark. She had rocked +the baby to sleep, and was thinking over the happy afternoon that +seemed now so like a beautiful dream. She lighted her lamp when +Theodore came in, and brought out the food that she had put aside for +him, and while he ate she told him of all that had happened. He did +not eat much and he was very silent, so silent that at last she paused +and said, anxiously, + +"You aren't sick, are you, Theo?" + +"No," he replied, gravely, "an' Nan, I'm real glad you're goin' to +such a nice place." But though he spoke earnestly, there was in his +voice a ring of pain that Nan detected instantly, and guessed its +cause. + +"I'm going to miss you dreadfully, Theo," she said, quickly, "and I +don't know what Little Brother will do without you. That's the one +thing about it that I don't like--to think of you all alone here with +no place to stay evenings." + +"Mr. Scott says I can have a room where he lives--at Mrs. Rawson's," +answered Theodore. "It's a fine room--bigger'n this, an' it's got +checked straw carpet an' three windows." + +"Oh, Theo, how glad I am!" cried the girl, delightedly. "That's just +splendid. Don't you like it?" she added, as the boy still sat with +serious eyes fixed on the floor. + +"Like it? The room you mean? Oh yes, it's a grand room, but I don't +think I'll go there," he answered, slowly. + +The gladness died out of Nan's face. "Oh, Theo, why not?" she +exclaimed, in a disappointed tone. + +He answered again, slowly, "I think I shall stay here an' take this +room o' yours 'stead o' my little one." + +"This is ever so much better than yours, of course, an' if you do that +you can keep my furniture, and I s'pose you'd be comfortable, but +'twould be lonesome all the same, and I shouldn't think you'd like it +half so well as being with Mr. Scott." + +"'Course I wouldn't like it half nor quarter so well, Nan, but this is +what I've been thinkin'. You know there's a good many boys in these +two houses that don't have no place to stay evenin's, 'cept the +streets, an' I was thinkin' as I came home to-night, how fine 'twould +be if there was a room where they could come an' read an' play games +an' talk, kind of a boys' club room, don't ye know, like the one +Mr. Scott was tellin' 'bout they're havin' in some places. I think +he'll help me get some books an' papers an' games, an' maybe he'll +come an' give us a talk sometimes. It would be grand for fellers like +Jimmy Hunt that ain't bad yet, but will be if they stay in the streets +every evenin'." + +"Theo, I think it's a splendid idea, only there ought to be just such +a room for the girls. They need it even more than the boys do." Nan +hesitated a moment, then added, earnestly, "Theo, I'm proud of you." + +Theodore's face was the picture of utter amazement as he gazed at +her. "Proud--of me?" he gasped. "I'd like to know what for." + +"Well, never mind what for, but I want to say, Theo, what I've thought +ever so many times lately. When I first knew you, you were good to +Little Brother and me, so good that I can never forget it, but you +weren't"-- + +"I was meaner'n dirt," interposed the boy, sorrowfully. + +"No, but you'd never had any chance with nobody to teach you or help +you, and I used to hate to have you touch Little Brother, because I +thought you were not good." + +"I wasn't," put in Theodore, sadly. + +"But since you came back from the bishop's you've been so different, +and it seems to me you're always trying to help somebody now. +Theo--if Little Brother lives, I hope he'll be like you." + +Theodore stared at her in incredulous silence. "Like me. Little +Brother like me," he whispered, softly, to himself, the colour +mounting in his cheeks. Then he arose and walked over to the bed where +the child lay, with one small hand thrown out across the +bedclothes. The soft, golden hair lay in pretty rings on the moist +forehead, but the little face looked waxen white. + +Theodore stood for a moment looking down at the baby, then suddenly he +stooped and kissed the outstretched hand, and then without another +word he went away. + +Nan's eyes were full of tears as she looked after him. + +"How he does love Little Brother," she thought. "He's going to miss +him awfully." + +Monday was a busy day for Mrs. Rawson. She had engaged a seamstress +to finish off Nan's dresses, and having seen the woman settled to her +work, she set off herself for the tenement house, a boy going with her +to carry a small valise. + +She found Nan busy baking bread. The place was very warm and the girl +looked flushed and tired. Mrs. Hunt had carried the baby off to her +cooler rooms. + +"Nan, child, you've not taken up the cooking again?" exclaimed +Mrs. Rawson. + +"I had to do some--not very much," replied the girl, gently. + +"But, my dear, I thought you understood that we didn't want you to do +this any more." + +Nan only smiled as she set the last loaf in the oven. + +The lady went on, "Nan--we want you to go away to-morrow." + +Nan looked up with startled eyes. "So soon!" she exclaimed as +Theodore had done. + +"Why should there be any delay about it? Every day that you stay here +is so much actual loss to you and to the baby, too," added Mrs. +Rawson. + +With a bewildered air Nan dropped into a chair, saying, hesitatingly, + +"But how can I get ready to go to-morrow?" + +"Easily enough, if you let the cooking go. I was wondering as I came +along what you would do with your furniture." + +To Mrs. Rawson's eyes the few poor bits of furniture looked worthless +enough, but she realised that it would seem quite otherwise to the +girl who had bought them with her own hard earnings. + +But now Nan looked up with shining eyes and in eager words told of +Theodore's plan and the lady's face brightened as she listened. + +"It's a fine plan," she replied, heartily, "and it means a deal for +such a boy as Theodore to have thought of it." + +"And when he might have gone to your house, too," added Nan, +softly. "Mrs. Rawson, he'll be very lonely when Little Brother is +gone." + +"Yes, he'll miss you both sadly, but Nan, you mustn't worry about +Theodore. Mr. Scott loves the boy and will look out for him, you may +be sure of that. But now we must talk about your journey. I've brought +the things that I thought you would need on the way, and I'd like you +to try on this dress." + +She lifted the pretty wool suit from the valise as she spoke, and Nan +began to take off her faded calico. The colour rose in her face as she +did so, for she hated to have Mrs. Rawson see her poor under garments, +but the lady seemed not to notice, as she chatted away about the +dress. + +"Fits you beautifully. I was sure it would, for I had all the +measurements. I don't believe you will need to carry many of the +things you have, for there are plenty of the new ones," she said. "I +put into this little valise everything that will be needed for the +journey, and the other things can go with mine." + +Nan looked up quickly, crying out joyfully, "Oh, Mrs. Rawson, are you +going with us?" + +"To be sure. Did you suppose I meant for you to travel alone with a +sick baby? I'm going to stay a week." + +"That's lovely!" exclaimed the girl, with a sigh of relief. "I did +dread to go among entire strangers alone." + +"Mrs. Hyde won't be a stranger two minutes after you meet her. You +couldn't help loving her if you should try. Now then, let me see. You +are to be ready at half past nine to-morrow. The train goes at +10:15. I'll stop here for you. Now, child, don't work any more +to-day. Just rest so that you can enjoy the journey. Oh, there's one +thing I came near forgetting--shoes. Those will have to be +fitted. Can you come with me now and get them?" + +"Yes, if Mrs. Hunt can see to my baking," Nan replied. + +Mrs. Hunt was very ready to do so, and Nan and her new friend were +soon in a car on their way to the shoe store. + +When she returned to her room alone, the girl took out the pretty +serviceable garments from the valise and examined them all with +mingled pain and pleasure. It was a delight to her to have once more +such clothing as other girls wore, but to receive them from strangers, +even such kind strangers as Mrs. Rawson and the girls, hurt Nan more +than a little. But she did not feel quite the same about the dainty +garments for her little brother. Over those her eyes shone with +satisfaction. She could not resist the desire to see how he would look +in them, and when he was dressed she carried him in for Mrs. Hunt to +admire, and the two praised and petted the little fellow to their +hearts' content. + +Theodore had looked forward to a quiet evening with Nan and the +baby--that last evening that they were to spend together for so +long--but it proved to be anything but a quiet one. It had leaked out +that Nan was going away, and all through the evening the women and +girls in the house were coming to say "good-bye." Nan had not +expected this, for she had never had much to do with any of them, and +it touched her deeply when in their rough fashion they wished her a +pleasant summer and hoped that the baby would come back well and +strong. + +Theodore sat silent in a corner through all these leave-takings, and +some of the women, as they went back to their own rooms, spoke of the +loneliness the boy would feel without the baby that they all knew he +loved so dearly. + +When the last caller had departed, Theodore stood up and held out a +little purse to Nan. + +"Ain't much in it, but I want ye to use it for anything _he_ +wants," the boy said, with a gesture toward the child. + +Nan hesitated. She would not have taken it for herself, but she knew +that it would hurt Theo sadly, if she refused his gift, so she took +it, saying, "You've been so good to him always, Theo. I shan't let him +forget you ever." + +"No--don't," muttered the boy, and unable to trust himself to say +more, he turned away in silence, and went to his own room. The little +purse he had given Nan contained five dollars. + +"The dear boy! How good he is to us," Nan murmured, as she put the +bill back into it, "but I hope I shall not need to use this." + +Theodore ran in the next morning for a hasty good-bye before he went +out to his work. He had waited purposely until the last moment, so +that his leave-taking might be a brief one, and he said so little, and +said that little so coldly that a stranger might have thought him +careless and indifferent, but Nan knew better. Now that the time of +departure was so close at hand, she shrank nervously from it and +almost wished she had refused to go, but still she dressed Little +Brother and herself in good season, and was all ready when at nine +thirty, promptly, Mrs. Rawson appeared. The lady gave a satisfied +glance at the two, and then insisted upon carrying the baby downstairs +herself, while one of the Hunt children followed with Nan's valise. A +cab was waiting at the door, and cabs being rarities in that locality, +a crowd of curious children stood gaping at it, and waiting to see Nan +and the baby depart in it. + +"It is going to be a warm day. I shall be glad when we are fairly +off," Mrs. Rawson said, with an anxious glance at the baby's face, as +the cab rattled over the rough stones. + +As the little party entered the station, there was a flutter of light +raiment and bright ribbons, and Nan found herself fairly surrounded by +the eleven King's Daughters. They took possession of the baby, who +brightened up wonderfully at the sight of them, and they seized the +valise and Mrs. Rawson's handbag, and they trooped altogether through +the great station to the waiting train, and instead of saying, "Can't +go through yet, ladies--not till the train's made up," the gatekeeper +smiled in genial fashion into their bright faces and promptly unlocked +the gate for them. That was because one of them was the daughter of a +railroad official, but Nan didn't know that. + +The train was not all ready, but two of the parlor cars were there, +and into one of these the girls climbed, and then they found the seats +belonging to Mrs. Rawson and Nan, and put the extra wraps up in the +rack for them and pushed up the window, and did everything else that +they could think of for the comfort of the travellers. + +Then one of them pinned a great bunch of deliciously fragrant violets +to Nan's dress, and another fastened a tiny silver cross above the +violets, as she whispered, + +"We've made you a member of our circle, Nan, dear, and this is our +badge." + +And then Nan noticed that every one of the girls wore the tiny, silver +cross somewhere about her dress. She wondered what it meant and +determined to ask Mrs. Rawson later, but she could not talk much just +then--she was too happy with all those dear girls about her, +chattering to her and counting her in with themselves. + +At last there was a rumble and a jar, and people began to fill up the +seats in the car and one of the girls looked at her watch and +exclaimed, + +"We must say 'good-bye' girls, or we shall be carried off." + +"Wouldn't it be fun if we could all go too, and stay for the week with +Mrs. Rawson?" cried another. + +"Yes, indeed. If it weren't for school we might have done it." + +"Now remember, Nan, we're all going to write to you because you belong +to our circle," whispered another, and then, some with a kiss, and +some with a warm handshake, they said, "good-bye," and hastened out of +the car and stood on the platform outside the car windows, calling out +more farewells and last words, and waving hands and handkerchiefs, +until the train drew out of the station. + +Then Nan settled back in her comfortable seat with a happy light in +her dark eyes. + +"I didn't suppose there were any such girls in all the world, +Mrs. Rawson," she said; "girls who would be so dearly kind to a +stranger like me." + +"They certainly are dear girls. I think myself that there are not many +like them," Mrs. Rawson answered. "Some of them have been in my +Sunday-school class ever since they were nine years old." + +"Perhaps that accounts for it," Nan answered, shyly, with one of her +quick, bright smiles. Then she turned to look out of the window and +her face changed, for there on a fence, close beside the track, stood +Theodore, eagerly scanning the windows as the train went by. Nan +snatched up Little Brother and held him to the window, and a smile +broke over the boy's face as he waved his hat in response. Then the +train gathered speed and flew on, and the boy went slowly back to his +work. + +It was nearly sunset when the station where the travellers were to +stop, was reached. Nan's heart began to beat fast and she glanced +around somewhat anxiously as she stepped on to the platform, but the +next moment she found herself looking into Mrs. Hyde's face, and from +that instant all her fears and anxieties vanished. + +Mrs. Hyde had no children of her own, but the very spirit of +motherliness seemed to look out of her eyes, and she took the two +strangers into her heart at sight. The baby, wearied with the long +journey had been fretting for the last hour, but no sooner did he find +himself in Mrs. Hyde's arms, than he settled down comfortably and went +to sleep and slept soundly through the three mile drive from the +station. + +Mrs. Hyde did not say much to Nan during the drive, only by an +occasional word or smile, showing her that she was not forgotten, +while the two ladies talked together, but at last she laid her firm, +strong hand lightly on the girl's fingers, saying, + +"Look, dear--you are almost home." + +And Nan looked with happy eyes at a big, rambling, white house, shaded +by tall elms, and with wide piazzas on three sides. An old-fashioned +flower garden, with high box-bordered beds was at the back, and broad, +rolling acres, spread out on every side but one, where there was a +grove of grand old trees. + +The late afternoon sunlight was throwing long, level beams across the +green lawn, touching everything with a golden light as they drove up +to the side door, and Nan said to herself, + +"I don't see how anybody could help being well and happy here." + + + +XIV. THEODORE GIVES CARROTS A CHANCE + + +Theodore dreaded to go home that night. After his work was done he +went to a restaurant for supper and then strolled on to the Common. +It was cool and pleasant there under the wide-spreading trees, and he +sat down on one of the benches and wondered what Nan was doing then +and how Little Brother had borne the long hours of travel. + +When it was quite dark he went slowly homeward. Mrs. Hunt's door +stood open and he stopped to get the key which Nan was to leave there +for him. Jimmy sprang up and brought it to him, and Mrs. Hunt gave him +a kind word or two and asked him to come in and sit awhile, but he +said he was tired, and taking the key, he crossed the hall and +unlocked Nan's door. As he closed it behind him he gave a little +start, for he saw something move over by the window. The next instant +he realised that it was only Nan's chair which had rocked a little +from the jar of the closing door. The room was unlighted except for +the faint glimmer near the open windows. + +As Theo sat down in the rocking-chair, a wave of loneliness and +homesickness swept over him. Nan and Little Brother had made all the +home feeling he had ever known, and never before had he felt so +absolutely alone and friendless as he did to-night. + +Tag seemed to share the feeling too. He went sniffing about the room, +evidently searching for the two who were gone, and finally, with a +long breath like a sigh, he dropped down beside the rocking-chair and +rubbed his head against his master's hand with a low, troubled whine. +Theodore patted the rough head as he said, + +"Pretty lonesome, ain't it, old fellow?" and Tag rapped the floor with +his tail and whined again. + +For a long time the boy sat there gravely thinking. At last, with a +sigh, he said to himself, "Might's well go to bed. Don't feel like +doin' anything to-night." + +He was used to undressing in the dark and he did not light the lamp, +but as he was about to get into bed his hand touched something smooth +and stiff that was lying on the pillow. + +"It's a letter," he exclaimed, wonderingly, and he hastened to light +the lamp. + +"Oh!" he cried, breathlessly, as he saw the bold, firm +handwriting. "It's from the bishop." + +His cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining and his fingers fairly +shaking with excitement as he held the letter carefully in his hands, +reading and rereading the address. + +"THEODORE BRYAN, +Care of MRS. MARTIN." + +He thought how many times he had sat beside the bishop's desk and +watched the pen travelling so rapidly across the paper. Theodore would +have known _that_ writing anywhere. + +For a long time he did not open the letter. It was happiness enough to +know that it was there in his hands, the first letter he had ever +received. And to think that the bishop should have written it--to +him, Theodore Bryan! It was a pity that the bishop could not have seen +the boy's face as he stood looking with glowing eyes at the envelope. + +At last he opened it and began to read the letter. It was a long one, +and as the boy read on and on, his breath came quicker and his eyes +grew dim, and when he had finished it his cheeks were wet, but he did +not know it. He was not thinking of himself. There were many who would +have given much for a letter from the bishop, but surely none could +have appreciated one more than did the lonely boy who stood there that +night in the dimly-lighted room poring over those closely written +pages. Again and again he read the whole letter, and many times he +read over one passage until the words were written in letters of light +on his heart. When at last he went to bed it was to lie awake for +hours with the letter held tightly in his hand, while he repeated to +himself those words that he was to remember as long as he lived. + +"Mrs. Martin writes me that you are anxious to be assured of my +forgiveness. My dear boy, if you have ever wronged me I forgive you as +freely and fully as I hope for forgiveness myself; but, Theodore, had +you wronged me ever so deeply, it would all be blotted out by the joy +it gives me to know that you are a soldier of the Cross. I know that +you will be a faithful soldier--loyal even unto death--and may the +great Captain whom we both serve, have you ever in His holy keeping." + +Over and over the boy repeated these words as he lay sleepless, but +full of deep happiness and peace. "Whom we both serve." The wise and +holy bishop and he, a poor ignorant street boy, were soldiers now +under the one great Captain. Faithful and loyal even unto death? Ah +yes, Theodore pledged himself anew to such service in the watches of +that night. + +Nevertheless, the letter had brought to the boy a fresh +disappointment, for it informed him that the bishop had been ill ever +since he left the city, and that it had been decided that he should +remain away until October. + +"Five months longer before I can see him," Theodore thought +sorrowfully, yet he could not grieve as he had done before. It almost +seemed as if he could feel the bishop's hand actually resting upon his +head, and see the kind eyes looking down into his. The boy had not +been so happy since he left the bishop's house as he was on this night +when he had expected to be so lonely and miserable. + +"Oh if Nan only knew, how glad she would be," he thought more than +once. + +He slept at last with the letter clutched tightly in his hand, and his +fingers had not loosed their hold when he awoke the next morning, nor +had the joy died out of his heart. His thoughts were very busy as he +dressed, and suddenly he stopped short, with one shoe on and the other +in his hand. + +"That's it!" he cried aloud. "That's what the bishop meant that +Sunday! 'Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price.' The great +Captain's bought me for one of His soldiers, an' I've got to do what +He says. I never knew before just what that meant, but I do now." Then +he added, softly, "But I want to do what He says, anyhow." + +Going forth in this spirit to his work, Theodore could hardly fail to +find something to do for his Captain. + +Mrs. Hunt had decided to take up the work that Nan had been doing, and +to furnish supplies for the stand. She had the big basket all ready +when Theodore came from his room, and he and Jimmy set off with it for +the stand where both the boys now took their breakfasts. + +Theodore was unusually quiet and thoughtful, and there was something +in his face that silenced Jimmy's lively tongue that morning. The two +boys had just gotten their stand ready for business, when Theodore +exclaimed, eagerly, + +"There he is now!" and darted off. + +Jimmy looked after him in wonder that turned to indignation, as he saw +Theo lay a detaining hand on the ragged jacket of Carrots, who was +slouching aimlessly along the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, +and, after a little talk with him, bring him back to the stand. + +"Well now, I like that!" muttered Jimmy under his breath. He glowered +darkly at Carrots as Theo drew him up to the stand, but Theodore +looked into Jimmy's face with a strange light in his eyes, as he +filled a plate for Carrots and poured him out a cup of coffee. + +"Sh'ld think you'd better wait till he'd paid for what he jagged here +that last time," Jimmy muttered, with a scowling glance at the +culprit. + +Carrots, overhearing the remark, grinned, and then winked impudently +at Jimmy, while he disposed with all speed of the contents of the +plate that Theodore had set before him. Once or twice he cast a +puzzled glance at the latter as if trying to discover some hidden +motive. + +"Had 'nough?" Theo questioned, when plate and cup were empty. + +"'Spect I might get outside of one or two o' them doughnuts," Carrots +answered, with another wink at Jimmy's clouded face. + +When the doughnuts also had disappeared, Theo said, "Come along a bit +with me, Carrots," and the two walked off together, leaving Jimmy for +the first time savagely angry with his friend Theodore. + +Carrots slouched along at Theo's side, with his narrow eyes roving +suspiciously from side to side in search of a possible policeman, into +whose hands he suspected that his companion might be scheming to +deliver him. He could not conceive the possibility of anybody's +failing to avenge a wrong if he had the chance. + +"Carrots," began Theodore, "where do you sleep?" + +"Can't catch me that way," thought Carrots to himself, as he answered +carelessly, "Oh anywheres 't I happen ter find myself when I'm +sleepy." + +"No reg'lar place--no home?" questioned Theo. + +"Nope." + +"Well, I've paid rent up to the end of the month for the room I've +been sleepin' in, an' I shan't use it any more. You can sleep there +for nothin' for the next week if you like." + +Carrots stopped short and gazed at his companion with his tongue in +his cheek. + +"Think I'm a fool?" he asked, shortly. + +"I do' know whether ye are or not. 'Seems to me you will be 'f ye say +'no' to my offer," and Theo looked straight into the shifty eyes of +his companion. + +That straightforward look puzzled Carrots. It was more convincing than +any words. He studied Theo's face for a moment, then he burst out, +"What's your game, anyhow, Tode Bryan?" + +"Carrots," exclaimed Theo, earnestly, "there's no game at all about +it. I've got the room, an' I don't need it, 'cause I've taken another +one. You're welcome to use this till the month's up. Now, what d'ye +say? Will ye take it or leave it?" + +"I'll--take--it," rejoined Carrots, slowly. + +"All right." Theo gave him the number, adding, "Come to my room +anytime 'fore ten for the key." + +Then he hurried on, leaving Carrots in a maze of wonder, doubt and +indecision, for he could not yet believe that Theo meant honestly by +him. + +As for Theo, he whistled cheerily as he hastened on, for he felt that +he had been doing a bit of his Captain's business. He was not in the +least deceived. He knew that Carrots was a "bad lot," as he expressed +it, but he said to himself, "I was a bad lot, too, not so very long +ago, an' I'll see if I can't do something for Carrots while I'm +a-huntin' for that Jack Finney." + +Jimmy Hunt was on the lookout for Theodore that evening, and pounced +upon him the moment he appeared. Jimmy's face was still clouded, and +he made no response to his friend's cheery greeting. "I say, Theo," he +began, "I'd like to know what you meant by it, anyhow." + +"What's the trouble, Jimmy? What do you mean?" + +"What _d'you_ mean by luggin' that thievin', sarcy Carrots over +t' the stand this mornin' an' stuffin' him with grub, an' never askin' +him for a red cent?" Jimmy spoke in a deeply aggrieved tone. + +"You won't lose anything by it, Jim. That comes out o' my share of the +profits," Theo answered, quickly. + +"'Tain't that," responded Jimmy, hastily. "I wouldn't 'a' minded if it +had been any other feller but him. Say, Theo, what did make ye do it +anyhow? Think ye might tell me that." + +Theodore looked down into the face lifted to his, half curiously, half +impatiently. "Jimmy," he said, gravely, "wouldn't you be glad if +somebody would lend a hand to Dick and help him make a man of +himself?" + +Jimmy flushed. He was ashamed of his brother and mortified by Dick's +evil reputation. + +"'Course," he answered, shortly, dropping his eyes. + +"Well, Jimmy, I'd help Dick if I could, an' there's another feller +I've been huntin' for ever so long. 'Seem's if I can't find him +anywheres, an' so till I _do_ find him, I'm a-goin' to try to +pull Carrots up 'stead of him." + +"Pull Carrots up!" echoed Jimmy, scornfully. "Tode, you must be soft +if you expect to make anything out o' such a bad lot as Carrots." + +"There's a good spot in most chaps, I b'lieve, Jimmy, an' I guess +there's one in Carrots, if I can only find it. Anyhow, I'm a-goin' to +try for a while." + +"Huh!" growled Jimmy. He said no more, but after this he watched Theo +and Carrots closely, and did a deal of earnest thinking on the +subject. + +Carrots slept in Theodore's room for the next week--slipping softly up +and down the stairs, with furtive, suspicious glances into every dark +corner in the halls at night, and departing in the same fashion before +Theo was up in the morning. He uttered no word of gratitude, but Theo +knew better than to expect anything of that sort. + +One night when he came in, Theodore sat with his door wide open, and +called out pleasantly, + +"Come in a minute, Carrots." + +The boy paused on the threshold until he had satisfied himself that +there was no one else in the room, then he sidled in and dropped +heavily on a chair. + +"Wal', what's wanted?" he inquired, gruffly. + +"Like to earn a little extra money to-morrow?" Theodore began. + +"That depends." + +"Depends on what?" + +"On the kind o' work." + +"Well, I should think you'd be ready for any kind of work," Theodore +remarked, with a quick glance at the ragged garments of the other. + +Carrots grinned, carelessly. "Oh I ain't a swell like you," he +replied, casting, what he meant for a scornful look at the other boy's +clean outing shirt and decent suit. Theodore had reached the point now +where he had at least one clean shirt a week. + +He ignored the remark and went on, "There's plenty of fellers that +would be glad of this job, but I want to give you the first chance at +it. Jimmy Hunt's goin' on an excursion to-morrow, an' can't run the +stand. You can run it if you want to." + +Carrots gazed at him with mouth and eyes wide open. + +"Me?" he exclaimed, incredulously. "You mean't you'll let me run +it--alone--'thout you bossin' the job?" + +Theo nodded. + +Carrots' mouth slowly stretched into a grin of mingled satisfaction +and derision, as he exclaimed, "All right. I'm your man!" + +"Then be ready to go with me at half past six," replied Theo. Then he +added, "Look here--what's your real name? Tain't Carrots I know. If +you'll tell me what 'tis I'll call you by it." + +"Do' want none o' yer callin'! Carrots's good 'nough for me, an' if +I'm suited, other folks needn't ter interfere," growled the boy, with +renewed suspicion. + +"No need to get huffy 'bout it," rejoined Theodore. "It put me up a +peg when folks begun to call me Theodore 'stead of Tode or Toady, an' +so I thought you'd feel the same way. 'Course, if you like to be +Carrots, nobody cares." + +"Humph!" grunted Carrots, and departed without further discussion of +the matter. + +He was waiting in the hall when Theodore opened his door the next +morning and assisted handily enough about carrying the big basket and +arranging the stand. He did not, however, believe that Theo meant to +leave him actually in charge, until he found himself established +behind the neat counter with fifty cents in nickels and pennies in his +pocket, to make change. + +"Wal', I'm blest!" he exclaimed, and then he grinned and chuckled and +slapped his sides with glee, while Theodore went off, thinking to +himself, + +"It's a risk, but I had to give him his chance." + +Many times during that morning he thought of Carrots and wondered how +he was getting on. It was a hot day and an unusually tiresome one for +Theodore, and it was later than usual when he returned to his +room. Before he had closed the door Jimmy Hunt ran across the hall +calling out, + +"Say, Theo, where's the baskets an' things?" + +Theodore's heart sank, but he answered quietly, "Haven't they been +brought back?" + +"No. Who'd you get to run the stand, Theo?" + +"Carrots." + +"Theodore Bryan--you _didn't_!" exclaimed Jimmy, in such a tragic +tone, that Theo almost laughed outright. His amusement was the last +straw to Jimmy. He burst into a storm of scornful blame in the midst +of which Theo quietly stepped into his room and shut the door, leaving +Jimmy to fume and storm as much as he chose. That brought the boy to +himself. He began to cool down and to remember, that after all, the +stand belonged to Theodore, and he had a right to do as he pleased +with it. So after standing in the hall, kicking at the banisters for a +while, to relieve his feelings, Jimmy knocked at the closed door and +in response to Theo's "come in," he went in, in a somewhat calmer +state of mind. + +"What you goin' to do in the mornin', Theo?" he began, in a subdued +tone. + +"Have you been to the stand, Jim?" + +"Yes, an' that scamp after he'd sold all the stuff went to work an' +auctioned off the dishes an' coffee-urn an' everything. Just skinned +the place out slick," Jimmy burst out, indignantly. "I went 'round to +see where the baskets was, an' some fellers told me all about it. They +said 'twas a red-headed chap done it, but I _couldn't_ b'lieve +you'd be green 'nough to trust that Carrots. Say, Theo, did you +re'ely think he'd do the square thing, by you?" + +"Not much. I hoped he would an' I had to give him a chance, Jimmy?" + +"Why'd you have to?" asked Jimmy, curiously. + +"Where would I be now if somebody hadn't given me a chance, Jimmy?" + +"Oh, you--you ain't Carrots. You're another sort." + +"Yes, I'm another sort now, but I was bad as Carrots before I met Nan +an' Little Brother," answered Theo, earnestly. Then he added, "Don't +you worry 'bout the stand. I'll go out presently an' buy what's +wanted." + +"An' ain't ye going to do nothin' ter that Carrots for this, neither?" +inquired Jimmy, anxiously. + +"No, nothing. But, Jimmy, don't fret yourself about him. If he keeps +on as he's been doin', he'll soon find himself locked up." + +"'N' he'd oughter be too," muttered Jimmy, as he went away, leaving +Theodore to think over the failure of his attempt. He was not much +surprised, though he had not expected quite such a clean sweep on +Carrots' part, and the loss was not heavy enough to embarrass him at +all. At Mr. Scott's suggestion, Theo had begun to deposit his extra +earnings in a savings bank and he had enough on hand to easily replace +the dishes and utensils lost, but he was disappointed and +disheartened. It seemed so useless to try to help one who would not +try to help himself. And yet he could not be quite discouraged since +he always remembered what he himself had once been. + +He went out and bought what was needed and when he came back he found +Mr. Scott just turning away from his door. He hastened to unlock it +and the gentleman turned back, saying, + +"I'm glad you came before I had got away, Theodore, for I want to talk +over that boys' club plan with you." + +"I thought you'd forgot all about it," replied the boy, his face +brightening. + +He had spoken to his teacher about this plan, and Mr. Scott had +answered, "Yes, something of the sort may be done, but if I were in +your place I wouldn't be in a hurry about it," and so the matter had +been left. + +Now Mr. Scott looked thoughtfully about the room, saying, "You must +find this far more comfortable than the room you had before. Don't +you sleep better here, Theo?" + +"Oh, yes, I don't feel so tired in the morning." + +"No, because you have the windows here and can have better air; but, +Theo, do you realise how it would be if you should use this for a +club-room? Some of the boys would be here every evening, and you'd +have to have lights burning, and by the time you were ready to go to +bed, the room would be very hot and stuffy--full of bad air. Besides +you would have to be here all the time. You couldn't trust such boys +in your room alone." + +Theodore thought of Carrots, and his face was grave and disturbed as +he answered, slowly, "'Spect you're right, Mr. Scott, but I do hate to +give up the plan." + +"Perhaps we won't give it up, only change it a little. Have you ever +been in the large front room, upstairs?" + +Theodore shook his head, with a look of surprise, that his teacher +should know anything about the rooms upstairs. + +Mr. Scott added, "Well then, suppose you come up with me now, and take +a look at it. I have the key." + +Wondering much, the boy followed his teacher up the stairs to a large +room with two windows on each side. + +"How would this do for your clubroom, Theodore?" Mr. Scott inquired. + +"This? Oh, this would be fine--but Mr. Scott, it would cost a pile +for this." + +"Rather more than for yours, of course, but now this is the way of it, +Theodore. I liked your plan about the club, but I didn't like the idea +of your giving up your own room to it, so I spoke to several gentlemen +of my acquaintance about the matter, and they all wanted to have a +hand in it. So they each gave me a sum of money, and then I +interviewed your landlord and rented this room. He is going to have it +whitewashed, and then we shall have the floor thoroughly scrubbed and +outside blinds put on these sunny windows. Then we shall put in some +tables and chairs and some plain pine shelves for the books and papers +that we are going to collect from our friends, and if you like, some +of us will give the boys a talk on current events once a week or so." + +"What's current events?" interposed Theo, quickly. + +"You'll soon find out. Now then, Theo, we must have somebody to take +charge of this room. Can you do it?" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"You know that means that you must be here every evening in the week, +from half past seven to ten o'clock. You'll want to be away sometimes, +Theodore." + +"Yes, I s'pose I will, but I'm ready to stay here all the same until +night school begins again." + +"Very well, then we'll let it be so, and we'll try to have the room +ready for our opening in a week or two--as soon as we have enough +books and papers to begin with." Mr. Scott locked the door as he +spoke, and the two went downstairs. + +Theodore's face was full of satisfaction over the promised +reading-room, but it clouded a little as his teacher said, + +"You mustn't be disappointed, Theodore, if very few boys spend their +evenings in this room for a while. Most of the boys in this +neighbourhood are so used to loafing about the streets, that they like +that best, especially in hot weather, and, of course, few of them care +much for reading. They will have to be educated up to it." + +"S'pose that's so," replied the boy, thoughtfully, "but they'll like +it next winter when it's cold an' stormy outside," he added. + +"Yes," assented the gentleman, adding, as he turned to depart, "Theo, +Mrs. Rawson will be home to-morrow. Don't you want to come and take +supper with us, and hear what she has to say about Nan, and the little +one?" + +"Oh, yes, thank you, sir," cried Theodore, with a happy smile. + +"All right, then, we shall expect you," and with a pleasant +"Good-night," Mr. Scott went away. + +Theodore rather dreaded the supper with Mrs. Rawson, but he forgot to +be shy or ill at ease when she began to tell him about the delightful +old farmhouse, and the happy times that Nan and the baby were having +there. She told him everything she could think of that would be of +interest to him, and he listened to it all with an eager face, and a +glad heart. If Little Brother must be far away from him, Theodore was +happy in the assurance that the child was in such a beautiful place, +and that already he had begun to grow stronger and brighter. + + + +XV. A STRIKE + + +"No cars a-runnin'! What's up?" exclaimed Jimmy, the next morning, as +he and Theodore passed down Tremont street. + +"There's a strike on. Didn't you hear 'bout it yesterday?" replied +Theo. + +"No. My! But there'll be a time if all the cars stop." + +"A pretty bad time--'specially for the folks that live outside the +city," Theodore answered, soberly. + +When, after taking his breakfast at the stand, he went back through +Tremont street, groups of men and boys were standing about in every +corner, and everywhere the strike was the one topic of conversation. +There were groups of motormen and conductors here and there, some +looking grave and anxious, and some careless and indifferent. + +As the morning advanced the throngs in the streets increased. Belated +business men hurried along, and clerks and saleswomen with flushed +faces and anxious eyes, tried impatiently to force their way through +the crowds to get to their places of business. + +Theodore noticed the large number of rough-looking men and boys on the +streets, and that most of them seemed full of suppressed excitement. +Now and then as he passed some of these, he caught a low-spoken +threat, or an exultant prophecy of lively times to come. It all made +him vaguely uneasy, and he had to force himself to go about his work +instead of lingering outside to see what would happen. + +In one office, while he was busy over the brasses, three gentlemen +were discussing the situation, and the boy, as he rubbed and polished, +listened intently to what was said. + +"What do the fellows want? What's their grievance, anyhow?" inquired +one man, impatiently, as he flicked the ashes from his cigar. + +"Shorter hours and better pay," replied a second. + +"Of course. That's what strikers always want," put in a third. "They +seem to think they're the only ones to be considered." + +"Well, I must confess that I rather sympathise with the men this +time," said the second speaker. "I hold that they ought to have +shorter hours." + +"There are plenty that will be glad enough to take their places, +though." + +"I suppose so, but all the same I maintain that these companies that +are amply able to treat their men better, ought to do so. I believe in +fair play. It pays best in the end to say nothing of the right and +wrong of it." + +"Think the company will give in?" questioned one. + +"Guess not. I hear that the superintendent has telegraphed to New York +and Chicago for men." + +"There'll be trouble if they come!" exclaimed the first speaker. + +"I believe," said another man, joining the group, "I believe that +Sanders is responsible for all this trouble--or the most of it, +anyhow. He's a disagreeable, overbearing fellow who--even when he +grants a favor, which is seldom enough--does it in a mean, +exasperating fashion that takes all the pleasure out of it. I had some +dealings with him once, and I never want anything more to do with +him. If he'd been half-way decent to the men there would never have +been any strike, in my opinion." + +Sanders was the superintendent of the road where the trouble was. + +"You're right about Sanders," said another. "I always have wondered +how he could keep his position. These strikes though, never seem to me +to do any real good to the cause of the strikers, and a great many of +the men realise that too, but these walking delegate fellows get +'round 'em and persuade 'em that a strike is going to end all their +troubles--and so it goes. I saw that little sneak--Tom Steel--buttonholing +the motormen, and cramming them with his lies, as I came along just +now. There's always mischief where Tom Steel is." + +By this time Theodore had finished his work, and he left the office, +his head full of strikes, superintendents, and walking delegates, and +wherever he went that day, the strike was the only subject discussed. + +He stopped work earlier than usual, finding himself infected with the +prevailing unrest and excitement. He found the sidewalks of the +principal business streets thronged with men, women and boys, all +pressing in one direction. + +"Come along, Tode!" cried a shrill voice at his elbow, and he turned +to find Jimmy Hunt, his round face all alight with anticipation of +exciting episodes to follow. Jimmy began talking rapidly. + +"They've been smashin' cars, Tode, an' haulin' off the motormen an' +conductors that want to keep on workin'. There's three cars all +smashed up near the sheds, an' the strikers say they'll wreck every +one that's run out to-day." + +"It's a shame!" declared Theo, indignantly; yet boy-like, if there was +to be a mob fight, he wanted to be on hand and see it all, and he took +care not to let Jimmy get far ahead of him. + +As they went on, the crowd continually increased until it became so +dense that the boys had to worm their way through it inch by inch. +They pressed on, however, and when further progress was impossible, +they found standing room on the very front close to the car-track. + +It had been a noisy, blustering crowd as it surged along the street, +but now that it had come to a standstill, a sudden breathless silence +fell upon it, and all eyes turned in one direction, gazing eagerly, +intently up the track. Suddenly, a low, hoarse cry broke from a +hundred throats. + +"It's comin'! It's comin'!" and far up the street a car appeared. + +The faces of the men grew more hard and determined. Those of the +women became pale and terrified. The two boys peered eagerly forward, +their hearts beating quickly, with dread mingled with a sort of wild +excitement. + +"Look, Theo--Look!" whispered Jimmy, pointing to some men who were +hastily digging up cobble-stones from the street. "There's Carrots, +too," he added. + +"Wonder who that little chap is--the one that seems to have so much to +say to the car men," Theo replied, thoughtfully. + +"That's Tom Steel. You've heard of him, hain't ye?" A man at Theo's +elbow was speaking. "He's responsible for this strike, I think, an' I +hope he'll get his pay for it too," he added, grimly. + +Theodore glanced up into the grave face of the speaker and recognised +him as a motorman. Evidently, he was more bitter against the strikers +than against the company. + +The car was now close at hand, and all at once as with a single +impulse, there was a surging forward, and the crowd closed in blocking +the track with a solid mass of human beings. The motorman set his +teeth hard, and rang the gong loudly, insistently. The conductor +hastened through the car and stood beside him. The only passenger was +a policeman, who stood on the rear platform calmly gazing at the sea +of angry, excited faces on either side. + +"This car's got to stop!" shouted a big, brawny fellow, springing onto +the step and giving the motorman a threatening glance. + +"This car ain't a-goin' to stop!" retorted the motorman, grimly, as he +released the brake. + +"We'll see about that," and with the words the big fellow seized the +man's arms and wrenched his hand off the lever. + +The conductor sprang to the assistance of his comrade while the +policeman ran forward and pushed the man roughly off the car. + +In the same instant, Theo saw Carrots snatch a box from a bootblack +near him and with a wild yell of defiance, hurl it through one of the +car windows. The shrill, taunting cry of the boy, mingled with the +crash of the breaking glass, and the sight of the policeman's upraised +club, aroused the mob to sudden fury. At once there arose a wild +hubbub of shouts, yells and cries, followed by a shower of +cobble-stones, and a fierce rush upon the three men on the car, and in +two minutes the car was a shattered wreck; the motorman and conductor +were being hustled through the crowd with threats and warnings, while +the policeman's club had been wrenched from his grasp. He drew his +pistol, but with a howl of fury it was knocked from his hand, and the +next moment he lay senseless upon the ground, felled by a savage blow +from his own club. + +The taste of conflict, the sight of blood, had roused to a fierce +flame the smouldering spirit of lawlessness and insurrection in the +mob. A savage rage seemed to have taken possession of the men as, with +frantic haste and mad delight, they tore up cobble-stones and built a +huge barricade across the track. When it was completed, Carrots darted +up on top of it and waved a red handkerchief above his head. A hoarse +roar of approval broke from the mob, but Steel sternly ordered the boy +down and hissed in his ear, + +"You fool! You might have spoiled everything by that! Don't ye show +that again till I give the signal--d'ye hear?" + +Carrots nodded with an evil gleam in his narrow eyes, that made Theo +shiver. + +"Come on, now. We've done enough for once," Steel added, and keeping +his hand on the arm of the boy the two disappeared in the throng that +was slowly melting away. + +Then, with a long breath, Jimmy turned to Theodore. + +"My!" he exclaimed, in a tone of shuddering satisfaction. "It's awful, +ain't it, Theo! S'pose he's dead?" He gazed with half fearful interest +toward the policeman who had been clubbed and about whom a group had +gathered. + +"Looks like it. There comes some more p'lice. They'll take care of +him. Come on, Jimmy, le's go home." + +"Oh, no, Theo, don't go home, yet. Le's go an' see what's goin' on +over there," and Jimmy turned into a cross street through which the +greater portion of the crowd was pressing. + +"There's something the matter over at the depot," said Theodore, as he +followed, half willingly and half reluctantly, in Jimmy's eager +footsteps. + +About the depot there was usually a constant stream of cars coming and +going, but to-day the streets looked bare and deserted. + +When the boys reached the square only two cars were in sight and these +two were approaching, one behind the other, on the same track. As they +drew near, they were seen to contain each six or eight policemen, +fully armed and with stern, resolute faces. The mob again howled and +hooted at the motormen and conductors, and showered them with dirt and +small stones, but made no attempt to stop the cars. + +No cars were run after dark that evening, and the next day they were +run only at intervals of an hour and each one carried a heavily armed +guard. The strikers and their lawless sympathisers continued to throng +the streets and to threaten all car-men who remained on duty. Now and +then a car window was broken or an obstruction placed on the tracks, +but there was no serious outbreak, and it was rumoured that a +compromise between the company and the strikers was under +consideration and that the trouble would soon be at an end. + +So a week slipped away. One morning Theodore was on his way from one +office to another when he heard the sound of drum and fife and saw a +body of the strikers marching up Washington street. Every boy within +sight or hearing at once turned in after the procession, and Theodore +followed with the rest. + +It was about ten o'clock in the morning and the streets were full of +shoppers, many of them ladies who had been afraid to venture out +during the past week. + +As if they had risen out of the ground, scores of rough-looking men +and street boys began to push and jostle the shoppers on the narrow +sidewalks until many of the frightened women took refuge in the +stores, and the shopkeepers, fearful of what might follow, began +hastily putting up their shutters and making ready to close their +stores, if necessary. These signs of apprehension gave great delight +to the rougher element in the streets, and they yelled and hooted +uproariously at the cautious shopkeepers, but they did not +stop. Steadily, swiftly they followed that body of men marching with +dark, determined faces to the sound of the fife and the drum. + +"Where are they going?" Theo asked of a man at his side and the reply +was, + +"To the car-house, I reckon. They're ripe for mischief now." + +"What's stirred 'em up again--anything new?" the boy questioned. + +"Many of the strikers have been discharged and new men brought +on--five hundred of them--from New York and Chicago. I'm afraid we +haven't seen the worst of the troubles yet." + +"Look! Look!" cried a boy, close beside Theodore, and the latter +looking ahead, saw a squad of mounted officers coming through a cross +street. Without stopping to parley they charged into the marching +strikers and dispersed them, silencing the fife and drum, and when the +furious mob of followers and sympathisers yelled threats and defiance +at the officers, the latter charged into the mob riding up to the +pavement and forcing the people back into the stores and dwellings +behind them. + +This was as fuel to the fire of anger and insurrection. Deep and dire +threats passed from lip to lip, and evil purpose hardened into grim +determination as the mob slowly surged in the direction of the +car-house, after the officers had passed on. The throng was far more +quiet now, and far more dangerous. Again and again, Theodore caught +glimpses of Tom Steel's insignificant face, and like a long, dark +shadow, Carrots followed ever at his heels. + +No cars were running now, but the boy heard low-spoken references to +new men and "scabs," and "the will of the people," as, almost without +effort of his own, he was borne onward with the throng. + +At a little distance from the car-house the strikers again drew +together and stood mostly in gloomy silence, their eyes ever turning +toward the closed doors of the great building before them. The vast +crowd waited, too, in a silence that seemed to throb and pulse with +intense and bitter feeling. The strikers had stopped in the middle of +the street, and around them on every side, except toward the +car-house, the crowd pressed and surged like a vast human sea. There +were not many women in the number gathered there, and the few who were +there were of the lowest sort, but men and boys--largely tramps, +roughs and street boys--were there in countless numbers, mingled with +not a few of the better class. + +Slowly the minutes passed, until an hour had gone by, and it began to +be whispered about that the company dared not run any cars. Still the +men waited, and the crowd waited too. But at last some grew weary of +inaction, and when Steel proposed that they spend the time barricading +the tracks, his suggestion met with a quick response. + +From a neighbouring street the men brought Belgian blocks and piled +them on the track. They pulled down tree boxes and broke off branches +of trees, and when an ice wagon came along they took possession of the +huge blocks of ice and capped their barricade with these. + +Suddenly the doors of the car-house were thrown open, and a car rolled +slowly out. + +There was an instant of breathless silence, followed by a roar like +that of a thousand savage beasts, as the strikers saw that new men +were running the car, and that it carried half a score of policemen, +armed to the teeth. + +As it approached the barricade some of the officers sprang off and +began to throw down the obstructions, the others standing ready to +fire upon the mob if necessary. The crowd showered bitter words and +taunts upon the officers, but did not venture to molest them. The +motorman stood with his hand on the lever, ready to start the car the +moment the track should be clear. Carrots, with a pack of street Arabs +at his heels, jeered at the new motorman, climbing up on the car and +taunting him, until, at last, his patience was exhausted, and he +suddenly lifted his foot and kicked one of the boys off the car. The +boy fell heavily to the ground, and instantly the shrill voice of +Carrots was uplifted, crying frantically, + +"He's killed Billy Green! He's killed Billy Green! Pitch in to him, +boys! Pitch into him!" + +Billy Green was already picking himself up, with no worse injury than +a cut in his cheek, but the mob took up the cry, and, + +"Pitch into him! Pitch into him! Kill him! Kill him!" was shouted by +hundreds of savage voices as the crowd pressed about the car. They +tried to drag the motorman off, in spite of the guards, they smashed +the car windows, they tore out the cushions, they beat the policemen, +and wrenched their clubs out of their hands. Finally several of the +officers drew their pistols and fired into the air. + +At this the crowd fell back for a second, and the turmoil of shouts +and cries that had been deafening a moment before, died away in sudden +silence--a threatening, dangerous silence as of a wild beast about to +spring. + +Into this instant of silence broke a new cry from the outskirts of the +crowd. + +"It's the mayor. Make way for the mayor!" + +"No, it's the bishop. Make way for the bishop! Stand back! Stand +back!" + +At this cry, Theodore turned like a flash and gazed in the direction +in which all eyes were turning. There was no mistake. The bishop was +surely one of the occupants of a carriage that was slowly forcing its +way through the throng. + +With his heart beating with a wild joy; his eyes glowing; the colour +coming and going in his cheeks, Theodore stood still until the +carriage stopped. Then sliding through the smallest spaces, darting +between feet, this way and that, the boy managed somehow to reach the +side of the carriage, where he stood with his hand on one of the +wheels, his eager, burning gaze fastened on the face he loved so +well. Instinctively he pulled off his cap, but he made no attempt to +attract the attention of the bishop. He uttered no word or sound. He +only stood with all his loving heart in his eyes, and looked. + +The bishop's expression was very grave, as he gazed over that vast sea +of faces. He turned to speak to the gentleman who sat beside him, and +as he did so, his eyes fell on Theodore's eloquent upturned +countenance. A quick, bright smile flashed across his face, and +reaching down, he laid his hand for a moment gently upon the boy's +bared head. + +Before he could speak the silence was again broken by a cry from many +lips--a cry of warning now, rather than a threat, though again the +words were, + +"Stop the car! Stop the car! The bishop! The bishop!" + +The bishop's carriage had come to a standstill directly across the +track, the crowd being here so dense that it was impossible for the +driver to go even a yard farther. + +The policemen had cleared the barricade from the track, and then +sprung hastily on the car again. Evidently they had not noticed the +dangerous position of the carriage, and now the motorman started the +car forward. The man was a stranger in the city. He knew nothing about +the bishop--cared nothing about him. He was there to run that car, and +he meant to do it or die in the attempt, so when the crowd shouted, + +"The bishop! The bishop!" he yelled in reply, + +"Get out of the way then if you don't want him hurt. This car's +a-going through, bishop or no bishop!" + +The car was already in motion. The crowd pushed and struggled and +tried to fall back and let the carriage pass over the track, but it +was impossible, so closely were the people packed together there. + +[Illustration: "Stop the car!"] + +On the car came, while for an instant the crowd waited with tense +breath for what should follow. + +"Loyal unto death." The words rang through Theodore's brain, as in +that instant he sprang swiftly forward and flung himself across the +track directly in front of the slowly moving car. A cry of horror +broke from the throng and a score of hands were stretched forth to +draw the boy from his dangerous position, but he clung to the fender +and would not be removed. + +"Stop the car!" he pleaded. "Oh stop the car or the bishop will be +killed!" + +Never a thought of his own danger had the boy,--for he would have +given his young life freely and joyfully for his bishop, but the +sacrifice was not needed. The police, now seeing the danger, forced +the furious motorman to stop the car until the crowd had had time to +fall back and the carriage had safely crossed the track. Then the car +passed on followed by threatening glances and menacing words from the +angry throng. + +But now the bishop arose in the carriage, and as he stood in the +majesty of his great height with the light of a pure heart and a holy +life illumining his face--once again a hush fell upon that vast +gathering, and when the rich voice rolled out upon the still air, +uttering its message of heavenly love, and strong, sweet counsels of +peace and justice, the hearts of the people were melted within +them. Hard, brutal men and rude street boys listened, feeling a +strange power that they could not understand, thrilling their souls, +and compelling them, in spite of their own wills, to follow the +counsels of this servant of God. + +No other man in that great city was honoured and loved by rich and +poor alike, as was the bishop. To no other would such a crowd in such +a mood have hearkened, but they stood in silence and listened +breathlessly as if they feared to lose a single word. They listened as +if they knew that never again would such a message come to them from +those lips. Stern, bitter faces softened, and hard eyes dimmed with +tears as the burning, melting words fell on the listening ears. Women +wept, and men forgot their hatreds and their grievances. Only here and +there an evil face grew more evil as the bishop's words worked upon +the hearts and consciences of that vast throng. + +Tom Steel dropped his mask of careless indifference, as he tried to +stem the tide by whispering sneers and taunts to one and another, but +they would have none of his counsels now, and after a while he slunk +away with a black scowl on his face and evil words on his lips, and +still beside him slouched the gaunt, ragged figure with its crown of +rough red hair; and no one bade them stay; no one listened to their +wicked whispers, for the bishop's words were filling every ear and +every heart. + +At last, the bishop stretched forth his hands and pronounced a tender +blessing upon them all, and then he drove slowly away, and when he was +gone rough men looked into each other's faces, half wondering, half +ashamed, as they moved away. They had no desire now for rioting and +lawlessness--for deeds of blood and violence. The Spirit of God had +touched their hearts. The atmosphere in which the bishop lived and +moved and had his being had for the time enveloped even these. No +wonder then, that it had wrought such a transformation in the heart +and life of one little street boy. + +That same night two hundred of the city clergymen united in an appeal +to the company to submit the troubles to arbitration, and to this both +the company and the strikers agreed. The result was that although all +that the men asked was not granted, yet their hours were shortened, +and an increase of pay promised at the beginning of the year. + + + +XVI. CALLED TO GO UP HIGHER + + +As for Theodore--when the bishop's carriage had driven away he went +home in a state of joyous expectation. He thought how he would go, on +the morrow, to the bishop's house, and of the long talk they two would +have together, when he would tell his friend all that he had so often +longed to tell him. He knew well how interested the bishop would be in +all that he--Theodore--was trying to do for the Great Captain, and he +longed to talk over his work and his plans with one so wise and so +experienced. + +On his way home he stopped and bought some linen collars and cuffs and +a neat necktie. + +"'Cause I want to look as well's I can when he sees me," he said to +himself. + +All that evening he thought of that visit which he would make the next +day. He realty _could_ not wait any longer, but he found it hard +to decide what would be the best hour for him to go. He knew that the +bishop was very often away in the evening, or if at home he was almost +sure to have guests with him. In the afternoon, too, he seldom had a +leisure moment. Indeed he never had any leisure moments, but Theodore +decided at last that the best time to see him would be between twelve +and one o'clock. + +All night, in his dreams, he saw himself making his way to the house +and once he awoke in great distress, imagining that Brown had sternly +refused him admittance. + +He could not work that next morning, but he wanted somebody else to +share his happiness, and so to all the sick and shut-in ones in the +two houses, he carried some little gift. It was his thank-offering, +though he did not know it. Small gifts they were, all--a flower to +one, a newspaper to another, some oranges to a sick woman, an extra +loaf to a hard-working mother--little things all, but given in the +name of the Great Captain though His Name was not once mentioned. + +So, many kindly thoughts followed the boy when, at noon, he went once +more through the streets toward the bishop's house. + +Theodore's face had little of beauty, but the glance of his grey eyes +was honest and true. He was able now to possess two suits and he wore +his best one with the clean linen and the new tie. Many a mother might +have been proud that day to call this boy of the streets, her son. + +The remembrance of his dreams sent a shiver over Theodore as he rang +the bell at the bishop's door, but Brown did not refuse him +admittance. On the contrary he smiled faintly and held open the door +as he said, in a low tone, "Come to Mrs. Martin's room," and once +again Theodore followed him across the wide hall. + +Mrs. Martin gave him a cordial welcome, but a great dread fell upon +the boy as he noted her red eyes and subdued manner, and when she +said, + +"He talked about you last evening, Theodore, and told us what you did +for him. You've come to ask how he is, haven't you?" the boy's heart +sank and he dropped into the nearest chair with his eyes fixed +entreatingly on the housekeeper's face. His throat felt dry and stiff, +and he dared not trust himself to speak. Mrs. Martin too, sat down and +wiped her eyes as she went on, + +"He ought not to have gone out to speak to those strikers +yesterday. He wasn't well enough, and I told the gentlemen so when +they came for him, but as soon as he heard what they wanted he said he +would go. He came home all tired out, and he was taken sick in the +night." + +Theodore tried in vain to frame a question with his trembling +lips. The housekeeper guessed what he would have asked and answered as +if he had spoken. + +"It's some heart trouble and the doctors say he cannot live." + +At these words, Theodore's head went down on the table and he sat as +if stunned. His trouble seemed to him too great even for belief. Eight +months before it had seemed terrible to him to know that the width of +the continent separated him from his friend. Now, what a joy it would +have been to him to know that the bishop was alive and well in +California. + +At last he lifted his head and asked in a low voice, + +"How long?" + +Mrs. Martin understood. She answered, sadly, "A few days--possibly +only a few hours. He lies as if he were asleep, but it is not sleep. I +think," she added, with a glance at the boy's heart-broken face, "I +think you can see him for a moment if you would like to." + +Theodore nodded and the housekeeper added, "Come then," and led the +way to an upper room. + +The boy followed with such an aching heart as he had never imagined +that a boy could have. + +The sick room was darkened and a nurse sat by the bedside. Theodore +stood for a moment looking down on the face so dear to him, and so +changed even in the few hours since last he saw it. He longed to press +his lips to the hand that lay outstretched on the white coverlet, but +he did not dare, and after a moment he turned and left the room in +silence. + +Mrs. Martin followed him down the stairs. At the door he stopped and +looked at her, tried to speak but could not, and so went away without +a word. He knew that never again should he see his friend alive, and +he did not. Before the next night, the bishop had been called to go up +higher. + +When the announcement of his death appeared in the papers there was a +request that no flowers be sent. Theodore did not notice this item, +and so on the day of the funeral he carried to the house some of the +roses that he knew the bishop had loved most, and Mrs. Martin herself +placed them in the cold hand that a few days before, had been laid +upon Theodore's head. All the gold of the earth, had it been offered +to the boy, could not have purchased from him the sweet memory of that +last look and touch. + +On the day of the funeral, the church where the service was held was +crowded, and the streets without were filled with a throng as vast as +that to which so short a time before, the bishop had spoken, but what +a difference was there in look and manner between the two great +gatherings! Here, every face was softened, every heart tender with +grief. They called him "our bishop," and they felt that they had lost +one who loved them--one who was indeed their friend. + +But not one, whether within or without the church, not one grieved +more deeply for the grand, beautiful life so suddenly cut off than did +the lad who stood without and listened to the solemn tones of the +great organ, and watched with eyes dim with tears as the black-draped +coffin was borne out to its burial. The boy stood there until the last +of the long line of carriages had passed him; then he stepped forward +and, alone and on foot, he followed to the cemetery. + +When all was over, he went sorrowfully homeward, feeling as if there +was a great blank in his life--a blank that could never be filled; +that the world could never again seem bright to him; but that evening +Mr. Scott came, and his affectionate sympathy comforted the boy's sore +heart. His teacher made him feel that now, more than ever, he must be +"the bishop's shadow." To Theodore, his small ministries to the +forlorn and suffering ones about him, seemed, indeed, as nothing when +he recalled the wide-reaching labours of the bishop, but as the days +went on these small ministries grew to be the joy of his life. + +Mr. Scott, watching him closely, saw how week by week he became more +unselfish and thoughtful for others; more eager to help any who needed +his help. It was a grief to the boy that one whom he most longed to +help seemed for a time beyond his reach, and this was Carrots. + +Four of the ringleaders in the riotous proceedings of the strike had +been arrested, tried and sentenced to two years in the penitentiary. +Of this number were Tom Steel, and Carrots, whose red banner had more +than once caught the eye of the police. + +Jimmy Hunt openly rejoiced, feeling that Carrots had got his deserts +at last, but Theodore was troubled and disheartened over the +matter. He went to see the boy in prison, and found him as gruff and +surly as ever, yet he was sure that, when he came away, the eyes of +Carrots followed him wistfully. He did not go again to the prison but, +though he was no more fond of letter-writing than are most boys of +fourteen, yet, during those two years of Carrots' imprisonment, never +a month passed in which he did not receive a long, cheery letter from +Theodore. He never replied to any of these letters, but as Theodore +expected no replies, that made no difference. + + + +XVII. FINAL GLIMPSES + + +As the evenings lengthened, the club grew in favour among the boys of +the neighbourhood, and often Mr. Scott wondered to see how Theodore +succeeded in maintaining good order and in keeping up the interest of +the boys, without setting them against him. He was full of ingenious +ideas for interesting them in something helpful, and, as he expressed +it, "lifting 'em up a peg." He grew to be exceedingly popular in the +neighbourhood that winter, but he never discovered the fact. He was +too busy thinking of and for others, to think much about himself. + +After a while he gave up all interest in his stand to Jimmy Hunt and +devoted himself wholly to his brass-polishing business. It outgrew his +own time and strength before the New Year, and then he hired boys to +work for him, and he spent his time superintending their work and +extending his list of employers. He paid the boys as liberally as he +could, but he would tolerate no loafing or careless work, so that at +first he had some trouble in getting satisfactory assistants, but once +secured, they seldom left his employ. The time came when he had a +long list of such employees, and when a large part of the brass work +in the city was under his care--but this was later. + +Nan and Little Brother did not come back to the city in the +fall. Mr. Scott had never intended that they should if he could +prevent it. + +Long before the summer was over, Nan had taken a daughter's place in +Mrs. Hyde's childless home and Little Brother had become the cherished +pet of the household. So warm and deep was the love given to them both +that even Nan's sensitive pride could not object to remaining there +where she knew that she could give as much as she received in love and +service, and with a glad and grateful heart she abandoned all thought +of returning to the city, and knew that she had at last found a real +home. + +But she did not forget her older friend, Theodore, and she told her +new friends so much about him that they desired to see and know him +also. So it came about that one of her letters to him contained a +cordial invitation from Mrs. Hyde for him to spend Thanksgiving week +at her home. + +Mr. Scott gladly agreed to attend to the club-room and to keep an eye +on the polishing business as far as he could, so Theodore accepted the +invitation and began to look forward with delight to seeing Little +Brother and Nan again. + +He could hardly realise that it was he himself--poor Theodore +Bryan--who, one bright November morning, sat in the swift-flying car +and looked out on the autumn landscape on his way to spend +Thanksgiving as Mrs. Hyde's guest, and to see again the two whom he +loved to call his "folks." + +[Illustration: Thanksgiving reunion.] + +As the train drew near the station at which he was to stop, Theo +wondered who would meet him. He hoped Nan would. Indeed, he felt sure +that she would, for, of course, Mrs. Hyde would not know him any more +than he would know her. + +So, as the cars ran along by the platform, he gazed eagerly out of the +car window, and he felt a little chill of disappointment because Nan +was nowhere in sight. There was a comfortable carriage in waiting for +somebody. He thought that it might be Mrs. Hyde's--but no, that could +not be, either, for a big, rosy-cheeked laddie, with mischievous blue +eyes, sat on the seat, flourishing a whip in true boyish fashion. That +didn't look much like heavy-eyed, white-lipped Little Brother, and +there was not a girl anywhere in sight, except a tall, handsome one in +a beautiful grey suit, trimmed with fur. This girl stood near the +carriage and seemed to be watching for some one. + +"I do wish Nan had come to meet me," Theo thought, as he stepped off +the train, and then the tall girl in the grey suit was looking eagerly +into his face, with both hands outstretched, crying, + +"Oh, Theo! How glad I am to see you!" and he was seated in the +carriage with that rosy-cheeked, merry-faced little laddie, between +him and Nan, before he fairly realised that this was Little Brother, +grown well and strong, as even Nan had not dared hope he would do in +so few months. + +And he had not forgotten his old friend either--Little Brother had +not,--or, if he had, he renewed the friendship very speedily, and +during Theo's stay the two were as inseparable as of old. + +It was a happy week for Nan, for she could see how Theodore had been +growing in the best ways during the months of their separation, and +she was not a bit disappointed in him, but proud to have her new +friends know him. And, as for the boy, it was a glimpse into a new +life for him--that week in a lovely Christian home. He made up his +mind that, sometime, he would have just such a home of his own, and he +went back to the city well content to leave these two in such tender +hands and amid such delightful surroundings. + +Through all the winter that followed, Theodore was busy and +happy. When the night-school began, he coaxed Mr. Hunt to take charge +of the clubroom, for Theodore wanted to learn and fit himself for +better work by and by, and with such a purpose he made rapid progress +in his studies. + +But, busy as he was, he still found time for his Saturday evening work +for the florist, that he might continue his Sunday flower mission, for +he knew that those few blossoms were all of brightness and beauty that +ever entered into some of those shut-in, poverty-pinched lives about +him. + +Then, at Christmas time, Mr. Scott and Mrs. Rawson and the King's +Daughters Circle helped him prepare a Christmas tree in the clubroom; +a tree that bore a gift for every child and woman in the two +houses. The children almost went wild over that, the first Christmas +tree that many of them had ever seen; and then the eleven girls in +their pretty winter dresses served all the company with cake and +cream. + +Theodore was too happy and busy to eat his share, but that was all +right, for Teddy Hunt had no trouble at all in disposing of two +portions. + +When the last candle had ceased to glimmer among the green branches, +and the last bit of cake and spoonful of cream had disappeared, the +company slowly and lingeringly departed, already looking forward to +just such another Christmas three hundred and sixty-five days +later. Then with many a "Merry Christmas" to Theodore, the girls and +Mrs. Rawson took their departure, and Mr. Scott followed them, only +stopping a moment, to say, + +"We left your Christmas gift in your room, my boy. I hope you will +like it." + +Wondering what his gift might be, the boy put out the lights and +locked the clubroom door and hurried down to his room, remembering +then that his teacher had asked for his key earlier in the evening. + +The key was in the door now, and there was a light in the +room. Theodore pushed open the door and then stopped short with a cry +of delighted surprise, for he never would have recognised this as the +bare little room he had left. + +A neat rug covered the floor, fresh shades hung at the windows; a +white iron bedstead with fluffy mattress and fresh white bedding stood +where the old bedstead had been, and in place of the pine table and +chairs were a neat oak bureau, and a washstand with toilet set and +towels, three good, comfortable chairs and a desk that made Theo's +eyes shine with delight. But best of all was a picture that hung on +the wall facing the door--a picture of the bishop with that tender +look in the eyes that the boy remembered so well. + +On a card, slipped in the corner of the frame, was written, + +"From Nan and Little Brother," and Theodore, as he looked and looked, +felt that there was nothing left for him to desire. + +He was still standing in the middle of the floor, gazing at the +picture, when there was a knock at the door and as he opened it in +flocked the eleven girls with Mrs. Rawson and Mr. Scott behind them. + +"Do you like it, Theodore?" + +"We _couldn't_ go home till we saw you here," they exclaimed, and +laughed and chattered joyously when they saw that the boy was too +pleased and delighted for any words, and then they went away with +their own hearts full of the joy of giving, to write a circular letter +to Nan telling her all about it. + +After this the winter passed quietly to Theodore. He was well and +strong, and he was busy day and evening, and he was as happy a boy as +could be found in all that city. + +And the weeks and months slipped away until two years had gone by, and +it was time for Carrots to be released. + +Theodore ascertained the day and hour when he would leave the +penitentiary and met him at the very gate with a warm and friendly +greeting, and took him at once to his own room. + +He searched the pale face of the boy, wondering whether there really +was in it a change for the better, or not. It seemed to him less +sullen and more thoughtful than it had been two years before, but he +was not sure. Certainly, Carrots was very quiet. It seemed almost as +if he had forgotten how to talk. He looked about Theo's neat, +comfortable room, evidently noting the changes there, but he made no +comment. + +Theodore had set out a table with a good supper for the two, and +Carrots ate as if he enjoyed the food. When the meal was ended, he +leaned back in his chair, and as he looked straight into Theodore's +eyes, said slowly, + +"What made ye do it, Tode?" + +"Do what--bring you here to supper?" + +"Yes, an' write all them letters to me, an'--an' everything?" + +"Why, Carrots, it's this way. I served another fellow an' awful mean +trick once, and I've been trying mighty hard to find him, and make it +up to him, but I haven't found him yet, and so I've tried to do a +little for you instead of him--don't you see?" + +Carrots nodded, and Theo fancied that he looked a little disappointed. + +"Then 'twasn't really me you wanted to help?" he said, gravely. + +"Yes, 'twas, too," answered Theo, quickly. "I'd have done what I +could for you, anyhow, Carrots, but I do _wish_ I could find +him," he added, sorrowfully. + +"What's his name?" inquired Carrots. + +"Jack Finney." + +"What?" exclaimed the boy, staring at Theodore as if he could not +believe his ears. + +"Jack Finney," repeated Theo, wonderingly. + +"Well, I never! Tode--_I'm_ Jack Finney." + +"You?" cried Theodore, starting up excitedly. "You Mrs. Russell's +Jack Finney?" + +The boy nodded again. "I guess so. I was in her class in the mission +school." + +Theo's face was all alight as he exclaimed, "Oh, Carrots--no, Jack, +I'll never call you Carrots again--Jack, I'm too glad for anything! +And now look here, Jack Finney, you've _got_ to be the right kind +of a chap from this on. I won't let you go wrong. I _can't_ let +you go wrong, Jack. It--it seems as if it'll be all my fault if you +do." + +And Jack, looking again straight into Theodore's eyes, answered +slowly, "I guess I've had 'bout enough o' crooked doin's. If you'll +stand by me, I'll make a try on the other line, anyhow." + +"I'll stand by you every time, Jack," cried Theodore, earnestly. + +And he did, through months of alternate hope and discouragement, for +Jack did not find the upward road an easy one. There were the bad +habits of years always pulling him down, and there were old companions +in evil ever ready to coax him back to their company, and more than +once they succeeded for a while; but Theodore would not give him up, +and in the end, the boy had his reward, for Jack Finney became his +fellow-soldier under the Great Captain, and his faithful helper in his +loving ministry among Christ's little ones. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE BISHOP'S SHADOW *** + +This file should be named thbsh10.txt or thbsh10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, thbsh11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, thbsh10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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