[Illustration: "SUCH WAS THE PICTURE THAT PRESENTED ITSELF TO MY VIEW. "--_Page_ 10. ]

UNCLE RUTHERFORD'S NIECES

A STORY FOR GIRLS

By

JOANNA H. MATHEWS

_Author of "The Bessie Books, " "Uncle Rutherford's Attic, ""Breakfast for Two, " etc. _

 "For ruling wisely I should have small skill, Were I not lord of simple Dara still. "

WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS

NEW YORKFREDERICK A. STOKES & BROTHER1888

Copyright, 1888, By FREDERICK A. STOKES & BROTHER. 

DEDICATED TO

HERBERT HUNT, WITH LOVING AND BEST WISHES FOR HIS FUTURE YEARS, ON HIS BIRTHDAY, AUGUST 6, 1888. 

CONTENTS. 

 PAGE

CHAPTER I. AN ARITHMETICAL PUZZLE 7

CHAPTER II. A CABLEGRAM 27

CHAPTER III. AN ARRIVAL 47

CHAPTER IV. "FOOD FOR THE GODS" 71

CHAPTER V. THE "MORNING BUGLE" 89

CHAPTER VI. UNCLE RUTHERFORD'S PRIZE 107

CHAPTER VII. TWO PEANUT-VENDERS 129

CHAPTER VIII. NOT ON THE PROGRAMME 151

CHAPTER IX. MATTY 173

CHAPTER X. A COLD BATH 195

CHAPTER XI. FIVE DOLLARS 219

CHAPTER XII. CAUGHT IN THE ACT 241

CHAPTER XIII. MATTY IS PROVIDED FOR 261

CHAPTER XIV. JIM'S CONFESSION 285

UNCLE RUTHERFORD'S NIECES

CHAPTER I. 

AN ARITHMETICAL PUZZLE. 

A sunny and a dark head, both bent over a much-befigured, much-besmearedslate, the small brows beneath the curls puckered, --the one inperplexity, the other with sympathy; opposite these two a third headwhose carrotty hue betrayed it to be Jim's, although the faceappertaining thereto was hidden from my view, as its owner, upon hishands and knees, also peered with interest at the slate. Wanderer, familiarly known as "Wand, "--the household dog, and the inseparablecompanion of my little sisters, --lay at their feet, as they sat upon alow rustic seat, manufactured for their special behoof by the devotedJim; its chief characteristic being a tendency to upset, unless theoccupant or occupants maintained the most exact balance, a seat not tobe depended upon by the unwary or uninitiated, under penalty of adisagreeable surprise. To Allie and Daisy, however, it was a work ofart, and left nothing to be desired, they having become accustomed toits vagaries. 

Such was the picture which presented itself to my view as I came out onthe piazza of our summer-home by the sea, and from that point ofvantage looked down upon the little group on the lawn below. 

But the problem upon which all three were intent had evidently provedtoo much for the juvenile arithmeticians; and, as I looked, Alliepushed the slate impatiently from her, saying, --

"I can't make it out, Jim: it's too hard. You are too mixed up. "

"Now, Miss Allie! an' you with lessons every day, " said Jimreproachfully. "Should think you might make it out. "

"I'm not so very grown up, Jim, " answered the little girl; "and I'venot gone so very far in the 'rithmetic; and I'm sure this kind of a summust be in the very back part of the book. "

"Here comes Bill, " said Jim, as a boy of his own age and socialstanding appeared around the corner of the house, a tin pail in onehand, a shrimp-net in the other. "Maybe he'll know. Mr. Edward's taughthim lots of figgerin'. Come on, Bill, an' help me an' Miss Allie makeout this sum. You ought to know it, bein' a Wall-street man. "

Allie said nothing; but I saw a slight elevation of her little head anda pursing of her rosy lips, which told me that she did not altogetherrelish the idea that a servant-boy might possess superior knowledge toherself, although he might be nearly double her age. Allie's sense ofclass distinctions was strong. 

Having faith in his own attainments, however, the "Wall-streetman"--this was the liberal interpretation put by Jim upon his positionas office-boy to brother Edward--deposited his pail and net upon theground, and himself in a like humble position beside his fellow-servantand chum. He might be learned, but he was not proud by reason thereof. 

"Now le's see, Miss Allie, " he said; "what is it you're tryin' tofigger out?"

"It's Jim's sum; and I can't see a bit of sense in it, even when it'sdown on the slate, " answered Allie, still in a somewhat aggrieved tone. "He's as mixed up as a--as a--any thing, " she concluded hastily, at aloss for a simile of sufficient force. 

"As a Rhode-Island clam-bake when they puts fish an' clams an'sweet-potatoes an' corn all in to once, " said Jim. 

"_At_ once, not _to_ once; and they _put_, not they _puts_, " correctedAllie, who, remarkably choice herself in the matter of language, neverlost sight of a slip in grammar on the part of our _protégés_. 

"Seems funny, Miss Allie, that you, that's so clever in the right waysof talkin', can't do a sum, " said Jim. 

Allie's self-complacency was somewhat restored by the compliment; butshe still answered, rather resentfully, --

"Well, I can, a decent sum! I had five lines yesterday, and added itall right, too; but a sum like that--I b'lieve even brother Nedcouldn't do it!"

That which brother Ned could not do was not to be compassed by man, inthe opinion of the children. And, as if this settled the matter, Allierose from her seat, forgetting for the moment the necessity for keepingan exact equilibrium, and that both its occupants must risesimultaneously, unless dire results were to follow to the one leftbehind. The usual catastrophe took place: the vacant end went up, andDaisy was thrown upon the ground, the seat fortunately being so lowthat her fall was from no great height; but the rickety contrivanceturned over upon the child, and she received quite a severe blow uponher head. This called for soothing and ministration from an oldersource, and, for the time, put all thought of arithmetical puzzles toflight; but after I had quieted her, and she rested, with littlearnica-bound head against my shoulder, Jim returned to the charge. 

"Miss Amy, " he said, a little doubtfully, as not being quite sure of mypowers, "bein' almost growed up, you're good at doin' up sums, Is'pose. "

Now, arithmetic was not altogether my strong point, nevertheless Ibelieved myself quite equal to any problem of that nature which Jim waslikely to propound; and I answered vain-gloriously, and with a view todivert the attention of the still-sobbing Daisy from her own woes, --

"Of course, Jim. What do you want to know? No, " declining the soiledslate which he proffered for my use, "I'll just do it in my head. "

"You're awful smart then, Miss Amy, " said Bill, admiringly. 

But the question set before me by Jim proved so inextricably involved, so hopelessly "mixed up, " as poor little Allie had said, that, evenwith the aid of the rejected slate, it would, I believe, have lainbeyond the powers of the most accomplished arithmetician to solve. Nowonder that it had puzzled Allie's infantile brains. To recall and setit down here, at this length of time, would be quite impossible; norwould the reader care to have it inflicted upon him. Days, weeks, andyears, peanuts, pence, and dollars, were involved in the statement hemade, or attempted to make, for me to work out the solution thereof;but it was hopeless to try to tell what the boy would be at; and, indeed, his own ideas on the subject were more than hazy, and, to hisgreat disappointment, I was obliged to own myself vanquished. 

"What are you at, Jim?" I asked. "What object have you in allthis"--rigmarole, I was about to say, but regard for his feelingschanged it into "troublesome sum?"

Jim looked sheepish. 

"Now, Miss Amy, " broke in Bill, "he's got peanuts on his mind; how muchhe could make on settin' up some one in the peanut-business, an'gettin' his own profits off it. But now, Miss, did you ever hear of apeanut-man gettin' to be President of the United States, an' settin' inthe White House?"

"I believe I never heard of any peanut-man coming to that, Bill, " Ianswered, laughing; "but I have heard of men whose early occupationswere quite as lowly, becoming President in their later years. "

"An' I ain't goin' to be any peanut-man, " said Jim. "I'm just goin' tostick to this place, an' Miss Milly an' her folks, till I geteddication enough to be a lawyer. I find it's mostly lawyers or sojersthat gets to be Presidents; lawyers like Mr. Edward. Miss Amy, " with asudden air of apprehension, "you don't think Mr. Edward would try tocut me out, do you? He might, you know; an', bein' older an' with morelearnin', he would have the start of me. "

"I do not think that Mr. Edward has any ambition to be President, Jim, "I answered, reassuringly. "You need have no fear of him. "

For to no less a height than this did Jim's ambition soar, and he hadfull faith that he should in time attain thereto. In his opinion, theday would surely come when, --

 "The Father of his country's shoes No feet would fit but his'n. "

And it was with a single eye to this that his rules of life wereconformed. The reforms which he intended to institute, mostly in theinterest of boys of his own age and social standing, when he shouldhave attained to that dignity, were marvellous and startling. Noautocrat of all the Russias, no sultan, was ever endowed with theirresponsible powers which Jim believed to appertain to the position hecoveted; but, to his credit be it said, these were to be exercised byhim more for the benefit of others than for himself. 

But he repudiated, now, the idea that the peanut venture upon which hismind was dwelling had any thing to do with his future honors. 

"Brother Edward would not be so mean to you, Jim, " quoth Allie, who wasstanding by my knee. "You spoke first to be President, and he wouldnever do such a thing as to take it from you. "

"And Jim is not thinking about that when he tries to find out thatsum, " said Daisy, raising her little bandaged head from my shoulder;"he is quite nice and pious, sister Amy, and wants to do a very rightthing. "

"'Tain't for pious, neither, Miss Daisy, " said Jim, who rather resentedthe imputation of being influenced by motives of that nature. "'Tain'tnone of your doin' good to folks, nor any of that kind of thing; it'son'y to animals, cause I'm sorry for 'em. "

"O Jim, what grammar!" sighed Allie. For Jim, when excited or speciallyinterested, was apt to lapse into the vernacular against which he andhis friends were striving; Allie in particular setting her face againstit, and constituting herself his instructress and monitress in grammarand style. 

"Can't help it, Miss Allie, " said Jim. "Can't keep grammar an''rithmetic into my head both to once; leastways, not when the'rithmetic's such a hard one as this. "

The excuse was accepted as valid; and Jim and the matter which was nowagitating his mind, both being at present in high favor and held ingreat interest, any further lapses were suffered to pass withoutcorrection or remark. 

Jim's love for and sympathy with all animals, especially such as werefeeble or disabled in any way, was a well-known trait. A maimed orotherwise afflicted dog, horse, cat, or bird was sure to meet with morefavor in his eyes than the most beautiful and perfect of its kind; andhe had a horror of shooting birds or other game, which was quiteremarkable in a boy of his antecedents. He even questioned the rightand expediency of killing animals for food, although he never objectedto partaking thereof when it was set before him. Fish, only, seemed tohim legitimate prey in the way of sport; and for all noxious insects, snakes, or vermin of any description, he had a perfect hatred, settingat naught the principles of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty, and really taking a most reprehensible delight in tormenting them, altogether at variance with his feeling for other creatures. 

"Bill, " I said, turning to that youth as the most practical andclear-headed of the group, "tell me if you know what it is that Jimdesires to find out, and the rest of you keep silence, and do notinterrupt. "

"Well, Miss Amy, " answered Bill, "it's just this. Jim was readin' inthe newspaper about a' old lady, how she left all her money--an' she'dworked hard for it too, makin' a show of herself on account of bein' sofat--to keep a hospital for all sorts of hurt an' sick animals an'birds; an' Jim, he's just about as much took up with animals an' naturan' things of that kind as she must ha' been, even if he ain't so fat;an' he's got it on his mind to set up his own hospital, an' let TonyBlair an' his sister Matty keep it an' take care of the animals. Tony'slame, you know, and Matty's hunchbacked, an' can't work; so it's kindof beginnin' on the two-legged animals--at least, Tony's only onelegged, but he has a right to be two, an' it's a help to them, too. "

Poor Tony Blair, with his deformed sister, had formerly been associatesand chums of Bill and Jim, in the days when these last had themselvesbeen young vagabonds, waifs, and strays, buffetting with a hard world;and that sentiment in Jim, which was "took up with animals an' natur, "had led him to befriend the helpless creatures, and to do them suchkind turns as fell in his way. Overwhelming modesty, or a desire tohide his light under a bushel, were not distinguishing characteristicsof Jim; but Bill also had borne ample testimony to the fact, that manya time in the old days Jim had deprived himself of a meal--Milly comeby, it might be--to give it to the little cripples, poorly provided forby a drunken father and ill-tempered mother to whom they were naughtbut a burden. Many a faded and limp bouquet, discarded by some happierchild of fortune, did Jim rescue from the ash-heap and bring to Matty, who had a passionate love for flowers; and not seldom during the springand summer months would he take a long trudge into the suburbs, andgather wild blossoms to gratify the craving of the little hunchback. Onone of these occasions he stole a little, fluffy chicken, which hadwandered from its mother's guardianship beyond the garden palings of asmall cottage, and, hastily buttoning it beneath his worn jacket, madeoff as fast as his feet would carry him to bestow his prize upon Matty, who had expressed a longing desire for a bird. But the stolen giftbrought naught but distress to Matty's tender heart; for, when theragged jacket was unbuttoned, the little yellow ball fell lifeless intoJim's hand. 

"I'm sure I thought he'd got lots of air to breathe, " said Jim, wofullygazing at his victim, while Matty's tears bedewed it; "there's holesenough in my jacket to make it as ventilatin' as a' ash-sifter, an' itwas awful mean in him to up an' die on me that way. An', Matty, I wishI hadn't brought him, for him to go an' disappint you like this. Nevermind, some day I'll buy you a parrot an' a monkey. "

Tearful Matty declined the monkey, but the parrot had long sincegladdened her weary hours; for a gorgeous specimen, given to muchscreaming, even more than is the usual manner of his kind, had beenpurchased by Jim for her behoof out of his little savings, soon afterhe and Bill had fallen into good hands, namely, those of my sisterMillicent and brother Edward. 

This occurred not long after the chicken episode. Milly had becomeinterested in the boys, whom she had encountered at one of the Moodyand Sankey meetings, whither they had come, not for purposes ofedification to themselves or others, but drawn, partly by their love ofmusic, and partly by the desire to make themselves obnoxious to moredecently disposed worshippers. But Milly, by her gentle tact, haddisarmed them, --they being our near neighbors at the service, --and, profiting by this love of sweet sounds, had brought them within herinfluence; nor ceased her missionary efforts on their behalf until, with the aid of brother Edward, and the consent and co-operation of ourparents, she had established them both as servants in the family, wherethey had opportunity and encouragement to fit themselves for decent anduseful lives. 

But their rise in life had not caused Bill and Jim to forget their lessfortunate little friends and _protégés_, --for Bill, too, had in his waybeen good to Tony and Matty, though he was not nearly so generous andself-sacrificing as Jim, --and they made them sharers in their improvedcircumstances so far as they were able. Jim had proposed that they alsoshould be taken into our household, and nursed and cared for; but, asfather and mother objected to having the house turned into a wholesalereformatory and hospital, his modest plan was not carried out. Somehelp, however, had been extended to the two cripples, who could havebeen provided with good homes in some beneficent institution, could thewretched mother have been induced to give them up; but, thinkingprobably that they excited sympathy by which she could profit, sherefused to do so. 

Ever since Jim had fallen upon happier times, it seemed that the boy'swhole nature had expanded, and he was constantly on the lookout, to usehis own language, "for a chance to do a make-up for all the good doneto me an' Bill. " A certain ambitious and not unpraiseworthy pride, too, and a strong sense of gratitude and obligation to those who werebefriending and helping them, particularly strong in Jim, were causingboth boys to make the most of the opportunities offered to them. 

And now, it would seem, Jim was actuated by schemes of wholesalebenevolence for one, two, and four legged animals. 

He had proved himself quite a hero during the last summer; had, throughthe force of circumstances and appearances, fallen under unjustsuspicion, but had been absolutely and triumphantly cleared (the storyof which may be found in "Uncle Rutherford's Attic"); and had madehimself an object of considerable interest, not only to the members ofour own family, to whom he had shown great loyalty and fidelity undersevere temptation and trial, but also to outsiders who had known of thestory of his adventures. Hence, he had been made the recipient ofvarious tokens of this interest and appreciation, mostly of a pecuniarynature, and he now felt himself to be quite a moneyed man. 

With the generosity which was one of his characteristics, --perhaps themost distinguishing one, --he scouted the idea of retaining the whole ofhis small fortune for his own benefit, pressing a share of it uponBill, presenting our children and his fellow-servants with tokens ofhis regard, mostly of a tawdry, seaside-bazaar nature, but beautiful intheir eyes and his own; conveying, with an eye to the future, anotherportion to the care of brother Edward, to be used for "'lectionexpenses" when the time should come for him to run for that dignity towhich he aspired; and now it appeared that he had other ends, of aphilanthropic nature, in view. 

Old Captain Yorke, a veteran sailor, now retired from active service, was our purveyor-general, going each morning in boat or wagon to thenearest town, whence he brought for us and other families such suppliesas we ordered; the Point affording no facilities for marketing or dailyhousehold needs. He was a great friend and crony of our two youngservant-lads, and to him as well as to Bill had Jim confided his plans;but the three heads had proved unequal to the settlement of thearithmetical difficulties which presented themselves, and Jim hadapplied to Allie, as being possessed of greater educational advantages. This had not proved equal to the situation, however, as has been seen;the knowledge of eight years not being able to cope with thismathematical problem. 

Divested of Jim's complications, Bill's discursive remarks upon othersubjects, and put into rather more choice English than that in whichthe latter delivered it, the plan amounted to this:--

Captain Yorke, heartily admiring, and willingly co-operating, was tobring from the town a large quantity of peanuts, which Mrs. Yorke, alsofull of sympathy, had promised to roast. The amount of peanutspurchased was to be determined by the price per bag, but Jim's ideaswere of a wholesale nature; for my young brothers Norman and Douglas, who both had a weakness for this vegetable, had also greatly encouragedhim in his undertaking, giving him not only hopes of great results fromthe home-market, but promises that they would interest "the otherfellows, " and induce them also to become customers. He was not to besalesman himself, of course, his daily avocations not permitting ofthis; but, for the rest of our stay at the seashore, he purposedobtaining the services of an acquaintance who belonged in the place, and who was in the habit of peddling about papers, periodicals, anassortment of very inferior confectionery, and other small wares. Theproceeds of these sales made here at the seaside, deducting acommission for the boy-vender, Jim hoped would suffice to start hislarger and more ambitious enterprise when we should return to the city. This was to set up Tony and Matty Blair in business. 

So far all was plain sailing, in anticipation; but now came the morecomplicated part of the arrangement. 

A stand was to be secured, a roaster, a fresh supply of peanuts, andother necessary appliances purchased; and "our ladies, " to wit, mother, Milly, and myself, asked to provide the crippled young merchants withwarm clothing sufficient to protect them against exposure to theelements. 

There were so many "shares" to be provided for, shares of diversproportions, and Jim's arithmetic was of such a very elementary nature, that he soon found himself lost in a hopeless labyrinth ofcalculations. With peanuts at so much by the wholesale, and so much atretail, running-expenses, and so forth, on the one hand; what would bethe various amounts to be allowed from the proceeds, on the other, fora "share" for Tony and Matty, another for return profits to Jim's ownpocket, and the third and larger for the establishment of the hospitalfor crippled animals, the main object of the undertaking?

Now, if peanuts were so much per bag, and other needful appurtenancesso much more, how much profit might be realized, and what would be therespective shares? Hardly had I solved this complicated problem toJim's satisfaction, and my own relief, --for, as I have said, numberswere a weariness to my flesh, and the rule of three a burden to myspirit, --when the boy remembered other claimants upon the fund. 

"Miss Amy, " he said, "didn't I forget. There's Rosie ought to have ashare for savin' me out the Smuggler's Hole; she _must_ have a share, for sure; an' there's Captain Yorke, he ought to have some, too. Pleasedo it all over again, Miss Amy, takin' out their shares. "

This was too much, however, and despite Jim's reproachful appeals to mysuperior learning, I flatly refused to "do up" any more sums on hisbehalf. 

And now, happily, a diversion in my favor was effected, by theappearance upon the scene of old Captain Yorke himself, who was seencoming up the carriage-way, guiding before him a donkey-cart filledwith fish, while upon his arm he bore a basket of fruit, vegetables, and so forth. 

He was a character, this old, retired sea-captain, --a firm friend andally to all pertaining to the names of Livingstone, or Rutherford, orto any belonging to those families, our factotum and standby; and, moreover, an endless source of amusement to the mature part of thehousehold, and of unbounded admiration to the more juvenile portion. Inthe eyes of our little girls, and indeed in those of my two youngerbrothers, Norman and Douglas, and above all, in those of Jim and Bill, he was a veritable hero, for his had been a hard and venturesome life, full of thrilling adventure and hairbreadth escapes; and the childrennever tired of listening to the narration of them. Nor, I am bound tobelieve, did the old man depart from the ways of truth, or draw uponhis imagination, in narrating them. But I will let the garrulous oldveteran speak for himself, a thing which he was never loth to do. 

CHAPTER II. 

A CABLEGRAM. 

"Mornin', boys; mornin', little ones; mornin', Miss Amy, " said thecaptain, regardless alike of my seniority to the rest of the group, andof any claims of social position over the servants. "Where's pa?" Thisto me. 

"Mr. Livingstone is out driving, " I answered, with what I intended tobe crushing dignity; for, much as I liked Captain Yorke, it alwaysvexed me to have my father and mother spoken of thus familiarly. 

"Ma in, then?" he asked, quite unabashed; and indeed, quite unconsciousof any reproof. 

"No; Mrs. Livingstone is with Mr. Livingstone, " I answered again. 

"Wal, " drawled the captain, "that's likely enough. If ye see one on 'emdrivin' or walkin' roun', you're like enough to see t'other, forthey're lover-like yet, if they has got a big fam'ly part grown up. Ideclar', yer pa an' ma is as like me an' Mis' Yorke as two peas is liketwo more peas, allus kind of hankerin' to be together, jes' as if wewas all young folks yet, an' doin' our courtin'. Not that pa an' ma issech old folks as me an' Mis' Yorke, but they'll get to it bimeby ifthey lives long enough. "

I passed over the compliment to my parents without comment, merelyasking, --

"Can you leave your message with me, captain?"

"'Twill keep, " he answered; "an' I've got a bit of business with Jimhere. Yer projeck ain't no secret, be it, Jim?"

"No, " replied Jim. "I was just tellin' Miss Amy, an' askin' her to doup the sums about it; but"--lowering his voice, and ignorant of thelaws of acoustics, by virtue of which I heard every word from myposition--"she ain't none too smart at sums if she has had such a lotof schoolin', an' she didn't make it out real nice and clear like. Butyou can speak out. She knows, an' is agreeble, an' says she'll help. She's awful generous, like the rest of 'em, Miss Amy is. "

With this little salve to the wounds which my filial pride and personalvanity had received, he raised his voice once more, quiteunnecessarily, and continued, --

"Miss Amy, Captain Yorke's got somethin' to say' bout what we was justtalkin' of. Go on, captain; Miss Amy don't mind. "

"I was jes' goin' to tell you what I been an' done, " drawled the oldman, raising his hat with one hand, and rubbing up his grizzled lockswith the other, as was his wont when he was talking at length, --hegenerally did talk at length when he talked at all. "You've jes' aboutmade up yer mind to do that undertakin', haven't yeou? Thatpeanut-undertakin', I mean. "

Jim gave a prompt and decided assent. 

"All right. So far so good, an' better too, " said the captain, ratherillogically; "for if you hadn't, maybe I'd a been a little _too_forehanded, as it were; but it was my opinions you'd made up yer mindfor it, so I acted accordin' an' brought 'em along. "

"Brought _who_ along?" asked Jim impatiently. 

"I'm jes' goin' to tell ye, " continued the old man. "Don't yeou be intoo great a hurry. Things takes time to tell when there's any thin' in'em worth tellin'; not that I'm no great hand on a long story, for Iallers was a man of few words; an' Mis' Yorke she can allers tell astory more to the pint than me, or than any one I know on--bless herheart. "--Certainly the old man's loyalty to, and affection for, hisdear motherly wife was beautiful to see and hear. --"But she ain't hereto tell, an', what's more, she don't know nothin' 'bout it to tell. Sheain't the kind to go on talkin', talkin' 'bout things she don't knownothin' 'bout; or, s'pose she does know somethin' 'bout 'em, to goyarnin', yarnin' on forever an' a day, an' never gettin' to the pint, like to Mis' Clay, --ye've seen Mis' Clay, ain't ye? She's Mis' Yorke'scousin, comes over from Millville now an' then, an' the powerfullesthan' to talk, an' never comin' to the pint, an' never givin' anybodyelse the chance. "

Mrs. Clay was the captain's pet grievance, and almost the only personof whom we ever heard him speak disparagingly; his objection to herprobably being founded on the ground that she never gave him "achance. "

"_Such_ a tongue, " rambled on the captain, "an' so fast an' confusedlike she's wuss than the Tower of Babel itself, an' jes' as like toscatter the folks what's livin' around her. But if ye've got a thing totell that's got a pint, folks mostly likes to hear the ins an' outs ofit, 'thout the trouble of askin' no questions, an' I'd as lieve tell'em to 'em. So I'll tell ye all about it, Jim, an' all of ye. "

"Well, if it's any thin' about my business, would you mind havin' itout right quick, Cap?" said Jim. 

"An' ain't I a doin' it?" responded the captain. "Don't be in sech ahurry, boy. I got to get my breath to talk, after walkin' up the hillfor to rest Sanky Pansy a bit, for the cart was powerful full thismornin', an' he did have a load, an' he's gettin' old an' has to beeased off a bit like myself, an' I felt kind of blowed an' puffy-like. Soon's I can talk good, I will. Young folks is allers got to beimpatient. There's my darter, Matildy Jane, she ain't none too patient, you know--leastways, not onless it's with you, Jim, "--here a wink ofthe eye at Jim made evident the playful irony of the exception, for Jimwas Matilda's _bête noir_, and a chronic warfare waged between thetwo, --"an' she says to me this mornin', says she, 'Pa, ' says she, --an'ye might think I hadn't never learned her the Ten Comman'ments, leastways the one about honorin' her father an' mother; but young folksis different behaved from what they was in my day--at least them's myopinions. I was jest a tellin' her an' Mis' Yorke how Peter Slade gothis boat capsized last night; an' 'Pa, ' says she, 'it's time my breadwas took out of the oven, an' if you've got any thin' to say'--Ideclar', Miss Amy, if she didn't give me a message about yer clothes;how when the wind riz up last night, some of 'em was carried off thelines into the sand, an' she had 'em to wash over again, an' wouldn'thave 'em home jes' up to time. Now, where was I, Jim?"

"Out on the sands, an' upset in Slade's boat, an' talkin' to MatildaJane; an' where you're goin' to is more than me or any one else cantell, Cap, " answered Jim, saucily. "You started to tell us somethingabout my peanut-business, I believe; but you've got considerable offthe line. "

"To-o be sure, to-o be sure, " said the old man, no whit offended ordispleased by the boy's pertness; for the spirit of _bon camaraderie_which existed between them was not easily disturbed. "Well, now, I'mjes' comin' to it right spang off. Well, ye see, I been over toMillville this mornin' in the boat, accordin' to custom, when the waterain't too rough, an' bein' off extry early, too, for I'd more 'n commonto market for, --Mis' Douglas she told me to bring her cowcumbers forpicklin'; an' Mis' Stewart she wanted some chany dishes an' someglasses outer the crockery store, --an' that's considerable way from thedock, you know; an' Mis' Yorke she gimme some bit of flannen she wantedmatched, --an' such like arrands takes time. So I says, says I, I'lljes' run over to the station an' see what's doin' there, more by token, as it was near time for the express, an' it kind of livens ye up a bitto see them express-trains come in, --they're nice an' bustlin' like, with a sort of go in 'em; an' after she come in, there was afreight-train come, an' there was lots of freight put off, an'--guesswhat I see, Jim, among it. "

"Peanuts, I suppose, " answered Jim, "an' I guess I'll get at the wholestory jest as quick by guessing it out myself, as by waitin' for you, Cap. "

The captain gave Jim a friendly nod, still no whit disturbed by thefreedom of his criticisms, and rambled on again, --

"Yes, peanuts, bags of 'em, half a dozen or more, I reckon, though Ididn't take the trouble to count 'em; an' the way I foun' out--how doye s'pose I knew what was in them bags?"

"Smelled 'em, " said Jim; "Sampled 'em, " said Bill, in a breath. 

"How was I to sample 'em when they was--I mean, if they was fastened upin the bags?" continued the captain; "nor it wasn't no smell, either. There ain't much smell outer peanuts 'thout they're cookin'. Mis'Yorke, she's a master hand to roast peanuts, does 'em jes' to a turn, an' then ye can smell 'em clear down to the beach, an' fustrate it is, too. I'd rather smell 'em than all the fine parfumery things they putsup in bottles. "

"What about the peanuts?" urged Jim. "Then how _did_ you know, an' whatdid you do? Hurry up. "

"There was a feller--one of the freight-hands--a pitchin' of the thingsouter the cars; an' one of them bags hit against a barrow stood there, an' got cut right through, the bag did, --an' what do you s'pose come apourin' outer that bag, Jim?"

"Think I can guess that riddle. Peanuts, " answered Jim. 

"Yes, peanuts, " said the captain; "an' it was a lucky thing for SamBates, to who they was consigned, that there wasn't a raft ofyoungsters roun' that freight-house as there is most times of the day. There's a Sunday-school clam-bake comin' off up to the Pint to-day, an'I reckon most of the Millville boys was gettin' ready for to go tothat, so they wasn't on hand. Sam himself was there, though, an' itbeat all, the takin' he was in over them peanuts; an', to be sure, itwas enough to make any creetur' mad, to see them good peanuts gorollin' an' hoppin' over the platform, an' Sam he in a' awful hurry toload up an' go home, for he's a darter gettin' married this arternoon. Ye didn't never hear about Sam Bates' darter, an' her city young man, did ye? Well, ye see, Sam Bates' darter, her that is called----"

"But the peanuts; tell us what became of the peanuts first, Cap, "interrupted Jim, determined to check the old sailor's wanderings, andkeep him to the "_pint_. "

"Why, ye see, " meandered on the captain, "when I see them peanutsa-rollin' round, an' Sam in that takin', I says to myself, Sam ain'tgot no time to lose a-pickin' up of them peanuts, an' maybe he'd beglad to get rid of 'em for what he give for 'em an' no profits, an' letJim have the profits, an' no freight to pay on 'em but me to get 'empicked up. 'Sam, ' says I, as he was fussin' round, 'the Scriptur'says, '--Sam's a deacon in the church, an' I thought mebbe a littleScriptur' would fetch him, and keep the price down, --'the Scriptur'says, Whatever a man can get, therewith let him be content; an' I takeit the moral of that is, make the best of a bad bargain. An' there'sanother teks that says, Don't ye fret over spilt milk; an', bein' apillar of the church, I reckon you'd like to practise 'em, an' let yourlight shine afore men. ' Now if there's one thing more'n another thatSam prides himself on, its bein' a deacon, an' livin' up to it; an' myspeakin' Scriptur' to him was jest a word in season, for he quiets downan' falls to reckonin'. 'Give 'em to me for what you give by the lot, an' throw in the freight, ' says I, seein' he meant to make on 'em, 'an'I'll take 'em an' see to the pickin' 'em up, an' you can load up thecart an' start off home. ' He jes' took to it at once, for, with the lothe had, one bag didn't make so much differ out half a dozen--he buys'em that way mostly, for ye know he keeps a' eatin' house; temperancestrict it is, up to Stony Beach, where there's lots of clambakes an'picnics holdin' all the time, an' the folks eats heaps of peanuts. SoSam came to my terms, an' I made thirty cents on the bag of nuts, an'the freight throwed in for ye, Jim; an' me an' Taylor an' Shepherdpicked up all the nuts, an' I brought 'em along in a basket Taylor lentme. "

Jim turned expectant eyes towards the donkey-cart. 

"No, " said Captain Yorke, seeing the direction of his glance, "theybean't here in the cart, nor nowheres here; they're down into thelighthouse. Perry was comin' over in his boat 'thout no load; an', as Iwas pretty well filled up, he brought 'em over, an' he's took 'em tohis own landin'. Soon's I'm rid of my load I'll go after 'em. Hello!"as a blue-coated, brass-buttoned boy from the chief hotel of the placecame running into our grounds, and up to the house. "Hello, here's atelegraph for some on ye! Hope 'tain't no bad news. I don't like themtelegraphs; ill news comes fast enough of its own accord, an' good newsis jes' as good for a little keepin', an' ain't goin' to spile. Mis'Yorke she says----"

But Mrs. Yorke's sayings, valuable though they might be, were lost uponme as I took the yellow-covered message from the hand of the messenger. Telegrams were matters of such almost daily occurrence in our familythat the sight of one rarely excited any apprehension; and, as all ofour immediate household were at present here at our seaside home, Iknew that the message could bring no ill news of any one of them. Butmy heart sank as I saw that this was a cablegram, for a dearly loveduncle and aunt were over the sea, and my fears were at once excited forthem. 

But fear was quickly changed to joy when, opening the cablegram in theabsence of my parents, to whom it was addressed, I read these words, --

"We take 'Scythia' to-morrow for home, direct to you at the Point. Allwell. "

As we had not expected the dear absentees for at least six weeks orperhaps two months, this news was not only a relief, but a joyfulsurprise, and I gave a little shriek of delight, which called fortheager inquiries from the children, while Captain Yorke and Bill and Jimwere alert to catch my answer. 

"Uncle Rutherford and aunt Emily are coming home, now, right away; theywill be here in a week or so, and they are coming to us, here to thishouse!" I exclaimed, waving aloft the paper, in the exuberance of myjoy. 

Daisy forgot her downfall, and her bandaged head, as she and Allieseized one another by the hands, and went capering up and down thepiazza in an improvised dance; and Captain Yorke's face beamed, as hesaid, --

"That's the best news I've heered this summer, leastways next tohearin' Jim was likely to get well that time, for the Pint ain't thePint when the Governor and the Madam ain't on to it. But, Miss Amy, Iwouldn't be for turnin' your folks out afore ye'd go to the cityanyhow; for, take ye for all in all, ye're a pretty likely set, an' I'dmiss Jim an' Bill a heap. "

There was no fear of that: we were tenants for the season in the dearold seaside homestead, where we had been guests for more or less ofevery previous summer; and the beloved uncle and aunt whose home-comingfrom a European trip we were now rejoicing over, would, in their turn, be now our much prized and welcome visitors. It would not be for long, however; for, to the great regret of the whole household, our summersojourn by the sea would in a few weeks come to a close. I said thewhole household; but there was one exception, for father had privatelysighed all summer for our own country home, where he had his fancyfarm, extensive and beautifully cultivated grounds, and superb oldtrees in which his soul delighted. We told him that a branch of one ofthese last was, in his eyes, worth the whole broad ocean, in which hisfamily so revelled; and he did not deny the soft impeachment. But hispatience was not to be much longer tried, for we were to spend a coupleof months at Oaklands after leaving the seashore, and before we settleddown for the winter in our city home. Nevertheless, absence from hisbeloved Oaklands had been more than compensated for by the roses whichthe invigorating sea-breezes had brought to the cheeks of the twoyoungest of the household, Allie and Daisy, who had been brought herepale, feeble, and drooping, from the effects of the scarlet-fever, butwho were now more robust than they had been before the dreadful scourgehad laid its hand upon them. 

Nor had the summer been one of unmixed enjoyment, even to those membersof the family who gloried in the sea and the seashore; forcircumstances had arisen which had been productive, not only of greatanxiety and trouble to us all, but which had involved bodily injury, and all but fatal consequences, to poor Jim. And although his name andcharacter had come out scatheless from the trying ordeal of doubt andsuspicion which had fallen upon them at that time, it had beenotherwise with those of one who had been received as no other than afavored friend and guest in our household; and a young girl whoseadvantages had outweighed a thousand-fold those of the once neglectedwaif rescued by our Milly from a life of evil, had gone forth fromamong us with a record of shame and wrong-doing which had forfeited, not only her own good name, but also the respect and liking of all whohad become cognizant of the shameful tale. 

To those who have read "Uncle Rutherford's Attic, " these circumstanceswill be familiar; to those who have not, a few words will suffice forexplanation. 

In the early part of the summer, my aunt, Mrs. Rutherford, had sent tome a pair of very valuable diamond earrings, old family jewels, and anheirloom. They came to me by virtue of my baptismal name, AmyRutherford, which I had inherited from several successive grandmotherson my mother's side; the young cousin to whom they would havedescended, the only daughter of aunt and uncle Rutherford, having diedsome years since, when a very little girl. She was exactly of my ownage; and this, with the fact that she too was an Amy, had caused me tobe regarded by my uncle and aunt, especially the latter, with apeculiar tenderness; and they seemed to feel that to me, the onlyliving representative of the family name once borne by their lostdarling, belonged all the rights and privileges which would have fallento their own Amy Rutherford. It may be imagined how I had prized a giftprecious, not only for its own intrinsic value, but for the manyassociations which clustered about it. 

Scarcely, however, had the earrings become my personal property, thanthere followed in their train such a course of sin, sorrow, andtribulation, that my pleasure in them was quite destroyed; and, for along time, the very sight of them became hateful to me. 

Ella Raymond, a ward of my father's, and a girl somewhat older thanmyself, had come to make us a visit just about the time that thebeautiful jewels came into my hands. Incited by vanity, and aninordinate love of dress, this unhappy girl had recklessly allowedherself to become heavily involved in debt, --debt from which she saw nomeans of escape, and which she was resolved not to confess to herguardians. The sight of my diamonds aroused within her the desire topossess herself of them, not for her own personal adornment, but thatshe might dispose of the jewels, replacing them with counterfeitstones, and so obtaining the means to satisfy her creditors. 

Unrestrained by principle, honor, or the laws of hospitality, the wishbecame but the precursor to the actual carrying-out of the evilthought. Thanks to my heedlessness, and the careless way in which I hadguarded the earrings, she obtained them with little trouble; and afteran amount of duplicity and deceit, terrible and shameful to contemplatein a woman so young, had contrived to carry out her purpose, to havethe stones changed, and then to convey the earrings back to mypossession, without drawing suspicion upon herself. 

Nor, was this the worst; for when, by a most unfortunate series ofevents, suspicion was forcibly directed toward Jim, she failed toexonerate him by acknowledging her own guilt; and but for the merestaccident, which brought about the proverbial "Murder will out" andfixed the crime without a shadow of doubt upon her, would have sufferedthe innocent boy to bear all the penalties and disgrace which by rightbelonged to her. 

So it will be seen that the summer, spite of its many pleasures andmuch happiness, had not been without a large share of care andperplexity. 

That all this was over, and that our fears for Jim's moral and physicalwell-being had come to an end, we were most thankful; and the most ofus still clung lovingly to the grand old ocean, and our summer-home onits shore. 

But autumn gales would, ere many weeks, be sweeping over this exposedcoast; and already the summer-guests were flitting from the largehotels, although the cottagers would probably hold their ground forsome little time longer. But what would it matter to us if we should beleft the very last of the summer-residents upon the Point, so long asdear aunt and uncle Rutherford were to be with us? They were a host inthemselves, especially the latter, who always seemed to pervade thewhole house with his jovial, hearty presence, and who was the first offavorites with all the young people of the family. 

There would be much for them to hear, too: all the sad story relatedabove in brief, to be told, with all its minor particulars; for it hadbeen kept from them hitherto, as I had been very sensitive on thesubject, my own carelessness having been partially in fault, and I hadpreferred that they should hear nothing of it until their return. AuntEmily would not have been severe with me, I knew; but I had wished thatthe face and the voice, which she always associated with her own lostAmy, should speak and plead for my shortcomings in the matter, when itshould come to her knowledge. And oh! was I not thankful beyondmeasure, for her sake, even more than for my own, that the jewels hadbeen recovered, and were once more safe in my own possession, beforeshe learned of the perils they had passed through. If I felt somewhatshamefaced and repentant, as it was, what would it have been if theyhad been lost beyond recovery!

The joy at the unexpected return of the absentees was not confined totheir own family or circle, for the "Governor"--uncle Rutherford hadyears since held that dignity in the State, and was still "theGovernor" to all the denizens of the Point--was greatly beloved by allwho knew him well; and the old residents of the place, which had for somany years been his summer-home, considered themselves to be hisintimate acquaintances. He was an authority and a law to each one amongthem. What "the Governor" did, was invariably right in their eyes; fromwhat "the Governor" said, there was no appeal. He would, indeed, havebeen a daring man who should question the right or wisdom of uncleRutherford's words or deeds in the presence of any of these stanchadherents. 

And dear aunt Emily was not less beloved in her way, for the simplepeople of the Point all but adored her, --true, wise friend that she hadproved to them; and among them none were more ardent in their devotionand admiration than Captain and Mrs. Yorke. 

So it was no wonder that the captain's face beamed with delight, northat, being somewhat after the manner of the Athenians of old, whodelighted in some new thing to tell or to hear, he should now be inhaste to despatch his daily business, and take his departure to spreadthe news about the Point. Indeed, he would scarcely wait until I--whoregained my senses before it was too late--furnished him with the listfor the next day's supplies, which mother had confided to my keeping. In fact, in the midst of the excitement and pleasant anticipationswhich uncle Rutherford's cablegram had called forth, Jim's"peanut-undertakin'" was for the present entirely lost sight of, unlessit was by the lad himself and his faithful chum and ally, Bill. 

No need to give here the reasons which had influenced uncleRutherford's unexpected return; they were purely of a business nature, and would interest no one else. 

CHAPTER III. 

AN ARRIVAL. 

I had made my confession, --for a confession I had felt itwas, --involving for my own share no small amount of carelessness, andsome little pride and self-will; all of which "little foxes" had openedthe way to the commission of actual crime in another. 

It was the day after that on which my uncle and aunt had arrived at thePoint, --mild, soft, and sunny; only the September haze upon sea and skyto tell that the lingering summer was near its end. 

We sat upon the piazza, --these two dear newcomers, my sister Milly, andI. Father off upon some business; mother in the house attending toNorman, who had come home with a sprained wrist; the children at playupon the beach with Mammy, and their faithful pages, Bill and Jim, inattendance. I had stipulated, with a fanciful idea that I was makingsome righteous atonement, that I should be the one to relate the sadstory of my diamond earrings; and hence no one had until now mentionedthe subject in the hearing of my uncle and aunt. 

The opportunity was propitious, the audience lenient and sympathetic;and seated on the piazza-step, with my head resting against auntEmily's knee, and, as the tale proceeded, her dear hand tenderlystroking my hair and cheek, I had told the story to its minutestparticular, taking, as the sober sight of after days has shown me, morethan the necessary amount of blame upon myself. 

So my uncle and aunt now said; and, while inexpressibly shocked at suchheartless wickedness in one so young as the guilty girl, they would notallow that their "own Amy" was at all blameworthy in the matter, andonly congratulated themselves and me upon the recovery of the earrings. My name, and the likeness I bore to the Amy Rutherford in heaven, wouldhave pleaded for and won me absolution in a far worse case than this;and they at once set themselves to work to demolish my almost morbidfancies in connection with the theft of the jewels. The very fact thatI had now told them all was a relief, and my elastic spirits at oncebegan to rise from the weight which had burdened them during the lastfew weeks. 

"So that is the hero of your tale?" said uncle Rutherford, lookingthoughtfully down upon the beach where the little ones were enjoyingthemselves to the utmost, and having matters all their own way, asusual. Jim was lying prone upon the beach, while Allie and Daisy wereindustriously covering him with sand; Bill assisting by filling theirpails for them. This was a daily amusement, and never palled. 

"So that is your hero?" he repeated. "And what do you mean to do withhim, Milly?" he asked, turning to my sister. "Such a fellow should havea chance in life. "

"He thinks he has it since he has been here, " answered Milly; "since hehas been among respectable people and surroundings, provided and caredfor, and taught. He and Bill both talk as if they needed no greateradvantages than those they possess already. As to what I mean to dowith him, dear uncle, --well, it is less what I mean to do with him, than what he means to do with himself. His own ambitions are soaring, and quite beyond any plans that I could form for him; his aim being thehead of the government of our country, with the powers of an autocrat, and no responsibility to any one. Nor is his mind disturbed with anydoubts that he will be able to achieve this dignity, provided that hecontinues to 'have his chance. ' At present he is content with learninghis duties as a house and table servant, believing those to be butstepping-stones towards his goal. "

"To say nothing of his ambitious views regarding Milly herself, " Iinterrupted. But my remark was ignored as unworthy of the gravity ofthe subject. 

"But he should have some schooling, a boy such as he is, --do not youthink so?" asked uncle Rutherford; adding, "Whatever his aims andambitions may be, he can achieve nothing without some education. "

Milly hesitated for a moment, unwilling to make mention of all that shewas doing for Jim and his _confrère_; and I spoke for her. 

"Milly is spending a goodly portion of her worldly substance in thatway, " I said. "The boys go to a teacher for two hours every evening, and are both making quite remarkable progress in the three R's; andBill had singing-lessons all last winter, and I believe Milly intendsthat he shall continue them when we go back to the city. "

"H'm'm, " said uncle Rutherford. "Very good, so far as it goes; but Imean something more thorough and far-reaching than this. " And Milly'seyes lighted, for she knew that uncle was already planning some meansof substantial advancement for her _protégé_. 

"If you are going to give him any further 'chance, '" I said, "Columbiaitself will not bound his ambition. He, too, will sigh because there isbut one world for him to conquer. "

"H'm'm, " said uncle Rutherford again, with his eyes still fixedthoughtfully upon the incipient candidate for presidential honors, who, having shaken himself free from the sand, and risen to his feet, wasnow tumbling rapidly over in a series of "cart-wheels;" anotherperformance in which the souls of our children delighted, and in whichhe was an expert. But he--uncle Rutherford--said nothing more atpresent; and we were all left in ignorance as to what benevolent plantending Jim-wise he might be pondering. 

For a man otherwise so charming and considerate, uncle Rutherford hadthe most exasperating way of exciting one's curiosity and interest tothe verge of distraction, and then calmly ignoring them. 

But now I suddenly bethought myself of Jim's "peanut plan, " which, truth to tell, had passed entirely from my mind since the day I hadfirst heard of it; and, with an eye to further prepossessing uncleRutherford in the boy's favor, I forthwith unfolded his scheme for thebenefit of the helpless young Blairs. My uncle was amused, but, as Icould see, was pleased, too, with Jim's gratitude and appreciation ofthe good which had fallen to his own lot. 

"Amy, " said uncle Rutherford presently, --_apropos_ of some furtherallusion which was made to my tale, and to Captain Yorke's share init, --"Amy, I am going to invite Captain and Mrs. Yorke to visit NewYork this winter, and, " with a twinkle in his eye, "shall depend uponyou and Milly to escort them hither and thither to see the city lions. "

"Invite them to your house?" I inquired, in not altogether approvingsurprise, for the idea of Captain and Mrs. Yorke as visitors in uncleRutherford's house was somewhat incongruous; while the vision of Millyand myself escorting them about was not attractive in my eyes, fondthough I was, in a certain way, of the old man and his dear motherlywife. 

"Not to my own house, no, " answered uncle Rutherford, with anassumption of gravity which by no means imposed upon me, "for I do notexpect to have any house of my own this coming winter, --or, I shouldsay, not to occupy my own house; for, Amy, as my boys will pass thewinter abroad, and your aunt and I would feel lonely without them, wehave been persuaded by some kind friends, with a whole houseful oftroublesome young people, to make our home with them, and help to keeptheir flock in order. So Captain Yorke and----"

But he was interrupted, as I fell upon him in an ecstasy ofdelight, --worthy of Allie or Daisy, --enchanted to learn that we were tohave the inexpressible pleasure of having him and aunt Emily to spendthe winter with us; a pleasure which I would willingly have earned byany amount of ciceroneship to the old sailor and his wife. The subjecthad not been mooted before the younger portion of the family, but hadbeen discussed and settled in private conclave among our elders; so itwas a most agreeable surprise to each one and all of us. 

"But about Captain and Mrs. Yorke?" I said, at length, when mytransports had somewhat subsided, and calmness was once more restored. "You do not really mean that you are going to bring them to the city, and--to _our_ house?"

And all manner of domestic and social complications presentedthemselves to my mind's eye, in view of such an arrangement. For uncleRutherford, in his far-reaching desire to benefit and make othershappy, was given to ways and plans which, at times, were too much evenfor his ever-charitable, generous wife; and which now and then wouldsorely try the souls of those less interested, but who, _nolensvolens_, became the victims of his benevolent schemes. 

No one was better aware of uncle Rutherford's proclivities in this way, or more in dread of them, than my young brother Norman, who had justjoined our circle, fresh from mother's surgery, and with his arm in asling. For Norman's bump of benevolence was not as large as that ofsome other members of the family, and he was inclined to look askanceupon uncle Rutherford's demands upon his heart and his purse. These, totell the truth, were not infrequent; for our uncle, believing thatyoung people should be led to the exercise of active and unselfishcharity, and seeing that Norman was inclined to shirk such claims, wasconstantly presenting them to the boy, with a view to training him inthe way he should go in such matters. 

"Uncle Rutherford gives with one hand, and takes away with the other, "Norman had said, grumblingly, only this same morning, in my hearing. 

"You had better say he takes with one hand, and gives seven-fold withthe other, " said Douglas, resentfully; for he inherited, to the fullestextent, the family generosity. "Nor, I saw the skins of your flintshanging out to dry this morning. "

Whereupon Douglas dodged a book aimed at his head, and left his shot towork what execution it might. 

Norman had caught my last words, and taken in their meaning, and hisdelight at the prospect of a visit from Captain Yorke was almost asgreat as Milly's and mine in view of the stay of our uncle and aunt atour home; being incited, probably, by the thought of the "jolly fun"which he and Douglas could extract from the old man while piloting himabout the city. 

"I certainly do not intend to bring the old people to your house, Amy, "said uncle Rutherford; "but your aunt is anxious that Mrs. Yorke shouldsee some good physician, who may be able to relieve her from herlameness before she is entirely crippled; and we shall thereforepropose that they come to the city after we are fairly settled there, when we will provide comfortable quarters for them, and put Mrs. Yorkeunder proper treatment. There is a fitness to all things, my child; andCaptain and Mrs. Yorke would probably feel as much embarrassed as yourguests, as we should be in having them with us. "

"I was only thinking----" I began, then stopped. 

"You were only thinking that your quixotic old uncle was about toinflict a somewhat trying experience upon you, " said uncle Rutherford, in answer to the unspoken thought. "But he has a _modicum_ of senseleft yet, Amy. "

Truth would not allow me to enter a disclaimer, for this had been myvery thought. Any slight embarrassment which I might have felt, however, was relieved by a little diversion in my favor, as uncleRutherford said, --

"Here is Fred Winston coming over from the hotel. "

"Yes, he is generally coming over, and never going back, " said Norman, with what I chose to consider a saucy glance in my direction; but Iignored both speech and glance, as I welcomed the new-comer. 

Now be it understood, that this young man was neither a gossip nornews-monger; but, being at present a resident of the largest hotel inthe place, he was, from the force of circumstances, apt to be thehearer of various items of interest, and these, for reasons whichseemed good to himself, he usually considered it necessary to bringover to the homestead as soon as possible after they came to hisknowledge. Indeed, our boys basely slandered him, by crediting him withthe invention of sundry small fictions as an excuse for coming over toour house. Nevertheless, he was always a welcome guest with each oneand all of the family, and with none more than with these saucy boys. 

"Mr. Rutherford, " he said now, when he had settled himself in suchcomfort as he might upon the next lowest step to that on which I wasseated, and addressing himself to my uncle, who, by virtue of hisinterest in, and proprietorship of, a great portion of the Point, wasregarded by most people as a sort of lord of the manor, --"Mr. Rutherford, have you heard what has befallen Captain Yorke?"

"I have heard nothing, " answered uncle Rutherford. "No misfortune, Ihope. "

Mr. Winston slightly raised his eyebrows, as he answered, laughingly, "I do not know whether he considers it in the light of a misfortune ora blessing; but I know very well how I should feel had such anaffliction fallen to my lot, --that it was an unmitigated calamity;while Miss Milly, again, would probably consider it as the choicest ofblessings. It seems that the old man had a reprobate son, who, manyyears since, went off to parts unknown; and his parents have heardnothing of him since, --that is, until to-day, when a woman, claiming tobe his widow, appeared with five children. She had his "marriagelines, " as she called them, a letter from the prodigal himself to hisfather, and other papers, which appear to substantiate her claim; andthe old couple have admitted it, and received the whole crowd. 'MatildyJane' is sceptical, derisive, and _not_ amiable. Nor can one be surprisedthat she is not pleased at this addition to her household cares andlabors, for I have not told the worst. The woman is apparently in thelast stages of consumption; one of the children is blind; another haship-disease; and a third looks as if it would go the way its mother isgoing. There is a sturdy boy of fourteen or so, the eldest of thefamily, and another chubby, healthy rogue, in the lot; but they reallylooked like a hospital turned loose. Brayton and I had gone down forbait, and were talking to the captain, when they arrived. "

"Don't, don't, Mr. Winston!" exclaimed Norman. "Milly will adopt thecrowd, and have them here amongst us. That is her way, you know. "

"And what did the captain say?" I asked, fully agreeing with Mr. Winston, that this must be, for the old seaman, an appallingmisfortune. "Imagine, if the thing is true, and these people dependentupon him, the utter up-turning of the even tenor of his way, --of alltheir ways. I sympathize with 'Matildy Jane. ' What did the captainsay?"

"He asked me to read his son's letter to him, --for he is not apt, itwould appear, in deciphering writing; and, indeed, it was more or lesshieroglyphical, --then gazed for a few moments at the dilapidatedcrew, --dilapidated as to health, I mean; for they are clean and decent, and fairly respectable looking, --and said, 'Well, ye do all seem to beenj'yin' a powerful lot of poor health among ye. ' Then he turned intothe house, saying that he must 'see what mother said, ' giving neitherword of welcome nor refusal to admit the claim of the strangers; andpresently Mrs. Yorke appeared, in a state of overwhelming excitement, and, nothing doubting, straightway fell upon the new arrivals with anattempt to take the whole quintette into her ample embrace. No need ofproofs for her; and, seeing this, the captain's doubts were dispersed, and he began a vigorous hand-shaking with each and every one of thosepresent, including Brayton and myself, and repeating the process, untilBrayton and I, feeling ourselves to be intruders in the midst of thisfamily scene, made good our escape. Not, however, before 'Matildy Jane'had appeared, with tone, look, and manner, which you who know 'MatildyJane' do not need to have described, denouncing the woman and childrenas 'ampostors, ' and bidding them begone. "

"And you do not think that the woman is a fraud?" asked aunt Emily. 

"I do not, Mrs. Rutherford; and neither did Brayton, " answered FredWinston. "And, besides the letter and marriage certificate which werein her possession, making good her pretensions, she had an honest face, and appeared respectable, --far too much so for the wife of such ascallywag as old Yorke's son is said to have been. "

"If the Yorkes allow her claim, and take in this numerous family, itwill interfere with your plans for Mrs. Yorke, uncle, " I said. 

"Not at all, " said uncle Rutherford, who, when he had once made up hismind to a thing, would move heaven and earth to carry it out, and whooften insisted upon benefiting people against their will. "Not at all. The new family can be left here to keep Matilda Jane company while herfather and mother are away. There is all the more reason now that Mrs. Yorke should be cured of her lameness; and I believe that it can bedone. "

Blessed with the most sanguine of dispositions, as well as with thekindest and most generous of hearts, he always believed, until it wasproved otherwise, that the thing he wished could be done. 

"Milly, " said aunt Emily, suddenly turning to my sister, "will you comedown to the Yorkes' with me?"

Milly assented readily; and the two kindred spirits set forth together. 

"The blessed creatures!" said Fred Winston. "What unlimitedpossibilities the arrival of this infirmary opens up to them. I knewthat they would be off at once to inquire into the condition of thesick and wounded. "

"And to find out how many candidates there may be for the hospitalcottage and other refuges, " I added. 

But the two good Samaritans, as they afterwards reported, were not soappalled by the state of things at the Yorkes' cottage, as Mr. Winston's tale had prepared them to be. Perhaps matters had improvedsince he had left two hours since, or the stricken family had at onceaccommodated themselves to the change in their circumstances. Certainit is that aunt Emily and Milly found peace and serenity reigning: Mrs. Yorke with the little cripple in her capacious lap, coddling andpetting her as the good soul well knew how to do; the captain pilotingthe blind child about the house and garden, familiarizing him withdifferent objects, by which he might learn his own way about by hisacute sense of touch; the youngest--a teething, not consumptive, baby--fast asleep; and even the recalcitrant "Matildy Jane" tolerablypleasant and good-natured beneath the fascinations of a handsome, sturdy urchin four years old, who, undaunted by her hard face andsnappish voice, insisted upon following her around, and "helping" herin her manifold occupations. He was a boy who did not know how to besnubbed, and had fairly won his way with his ungracious aunt, by sheerpersistence in his unwelcome attentions. To all her hospitableintimations that he and his family had brought an immense addition toher cares and labors, --which certainly was true, --he opposed smiles andcaresses, and assurances that so long as he was there he would shareand lighten all these; appearing to think that she complained andscolded only to draw forth his sympathy and aid. 

Who could stand out against such a fellow? Not even "Matildy Jane. " Andshe had succumbed; at least, so far as he was concerned. 

The mother of the helpless group, pale, feeble, and careworn though shewas, had already shown herself eager to lessen, so far as possible, theburden she had brought upon the family of her husband, and sat peelingpotatoes from a huge basket on the one side, while a pan of apples, duly pared and quartered, stood awaiting the oven upon the other. Plainly Matilda Jane had had no scruples of delicacy in availingherself of the services of her newly arrived sister-in-law. 

"What _are_ you going to do with them all, Captain Yorke?" asked Milly, pityingly, as she stood beside the old sailor in the porch, while auntEmily interviewed Mrs. Yorke and the widow. "This is such a care foryou. "

"Do with 'em?" repeated the veteran, apparently quite undismayed by theprospect before him. "Waal, I reckon we've got to be eyes an' backs an'lungs to 'em, for they've run mighty short of them conveniences. Letalone Theodore, an' that feller over there, "--nodding towards thekitchen-door, within which Matilda Jane was to be seen mixing biscuit, with the boy beside her, his round, fat arms up to the elbows in thedough, with which he was bedaubing himself and every thing about him, unrestrained by his subdued aunt, --"let alone that feller over there, there ain't the makin' of a hull one among 'em. I guess they've got tobe took care of; an', if the Almighty hadn't a meant us to do it, hewouldn't a sent 'em here. Them's my opinions, an' me an' Mis' Yorke weain't the ones to throw back his orderin's an' purposin's in his face. They do seem a bit like a hospital full, though, don't they?" he added, unconsciously expressing Mr. Winston's view of the situation. "Me an'Mis' Yorke, we foun' out the truth of the Scriptur' sayin', how sharperthan an achin' tooth it is to have a thankless child, an' Tom, --I don'tmin' sayin' it to you, --he _was_ thankless enough, though he's dead an'gone, an' his old father ain't the one to cast stones at him now. Butme an' Mis' Yorke, we don't want to make out the truth of that otherScriptur', that the sins of the father shall be visited on thechildren, --leastways, not Tom's children; they ain't to blame for hisshort-comin's; an', meanin' no disrespec' nor onbelief, _that_ Scriptur'do always seem to me a little hard on the children. Maybe--whoknows--them youngsters will ha' brought a blessin' with 'em; an' myopinions is they has, when I see Mis' Yorke a cuddlin' an' croonin'over that little hunchback. Now she's awful contented an' easy-mindedlike to have somethin' to pet, for she's allers a hankerin' afterbabies an' them sort of critters. We was kinder took aback, for sartain, when Maria, --her name's Maria, Tom's widder's is, --when she come rightin with the hull crowd followin', an' John Waters' wagon, what theycome from the station in, standin' at the gate, an' all the luggage init; an' them gentlemen was here gettin' bait an' askin' about thefishin', an' Matildy Jane she kinder flew out, an' one of the littleones was hollerin', --an' it was all kinder Bedlamy. But it's all comeright now; an' Maria, she's a willin' soul, an' if Jabez, " the oldman's son-in-law, and a power in the household, "if Jabez an' Charlottedon't be grumpy over it, we'll all get along as pretty as a psalm-book. Jabez, he an' Charlotte has gone to Millville for the day, an' all thisis unbeknownst to them. "

Clearly, the captain was somewhat in dread of Jabez and Jabez'sopinions; but Milly had no fear that the strangers would be sent adriftin deference to these. 

But something must be done to help the old people with the burden whichhad so suddenly fallen upon them. The gray-haired seaman wascomparatively vigorous still, but his sea-faring days were over; andwhile he had put by a sum sufficient to keep him, his good wife, and"Matildy Jane" in comfort, this unlooked for addition to the family, helpless and crippled as the grandchildren were, would be too great adrain upon his little fund. As this had been placed in father's handsfor investment, we knew to a fraction what he had to depend upon, andthat it was not enough to provide for all. The sturdy independence ofthe captain would no doubt revolt against the idea of receiving anyactual pecuniary assistance, as would that of his wife; but some waymust be contrived of lessening their responsibilities and cares. JabezStrong and his wife must share these, although he might and probablywould be "grumpy;" but even then it would be hard to meet all demands, without depriving the old couple of their accustomed comforts. Thecheerful, it-will-all-come-right spirit in which they had received theintruders, --_I_ could not look upon them in any other light, --made usall the more anxious to do this; and, before night, Milly and I wereexercising our brains with all manner of expedients for accomplishingit without hurting their pride and their feelings. 

Meanwhile, our elders, with less of enthusiasm perhaps, but in a morepractical spirit, were considering the same matter; and the littleones, our Allie and Daisy, having also heard of the influx of childrenat the Yorkes' cottage, had laden themselves with toys andpicture-books, and persuaded mammy to escort them thither. Our littlesisters had so burdened themselves, that they needed assistance totransport all these gifts to Captain Yorke's house; and they could notlook for any great amount of this from mammy, who had all she could doto convey her own portly person, and the enormous umbrella withoutwhich she never stirred, as a possibly needed protection against sun orrain, as the case might be. So they begged that Bill and Jim might actas carriers, coaxing Thomas to spare them from pantry duty, --a matternot attended with much difficulty, as the old butler was only toowilling to indulge them on all occasions, even to the length of takingdouble work on his own shoulders. 

They all set forth on their errand of charity in high glee; but Jimreturned from the expedition with a face and air of such portentousgravity, so different from his usual happy-go-lucky bearing, that Millywas moved to ask if any thing unpleasant had occurred. 

"Captain Yorke nor his folks didn't do nothin', Miss Milly, " answeredJim. 

"Who, then?" asked Milly. 

"Well, no _one_, Miss Milly, " he replied. "I was on'y thinkin' what alot of 'em there was, an' it bothers me. "

"So many Yorkes, do you mean?" queried Milly, rather wondering at hisevident perturbation. 

"Such a many blind an' hunchback an' sick folks, " he said; "an' how arethey all goin' to be done for. The more you try to do for some of 'em, the more of 'em seem to come up. There's Matty and Tony Blair, who mean Bill has took into our keepin' soon as we get to the city; an' nowhere comes a Yorke hunchback, an' a Yorke blind, an' a Yorke sick baby, all sudden like; an' I say that's pretty hard on the ole captain. Ilike the captain firstrate, I do, Miss Milly; an' I don't like to seehim put upon that way. Some of us ought to see to 'em for him, but youcan't do for all. "

"No, Jim, " Milly said, soothingly, to the young philanthropist, "wecannot do for all who need; but, if each one does his or her mite, wecan among us greatly lighten the load of human suffering; and that iswhat we must all try to do, without making ourselves unhappy over thatwhich is beyond our reach or means. "

"_You_ did a mighty big mite, when you did for Bill an' me, Miss Milly, "said her pupil and _protégé_, looking gratefully at her. "There ain'tno halfway 'bout you, Miss Milly. But I would like to help CaptainYorke, if I could; an' I was thinkin', could I do up them sums again'bout the peanuts, an' get out a share for the Yorkes. "

Milly laughed, for she had heard of Jim's plans, and of the variousobjects which were to be benefited by the "peanut-undertaking;" and, asfrequent new claims and claimants appeared to share in the profits, sheargued that the proportion of each would be small. 

"Jim, " she said, "I think I would not undertake to help the Yorkes aswell as all the other people you have upon your list. They shall not beallowed to suffer, you may be sure; Mr. Rutherford and Mr. Livingstonewill see to that. "

"Miss Milly, " he answered, reproachfully, "I on'y didn't reckon upCaptain Yorke an' his folks before, 'cause they hadn't need of it. Nowthey will, with all that raft of broke-up children on 'em; an' do youthink I'd go to passin' 'em over when they was so good to me? No, thatI wouldn't; I ain't never goin' to forget how Mis' Yorke nussed me, an'made much of me, when I was sick there in her house; an' they were goodto me, too, when I was a little chap, an' got shipwrecked on to theshore. Miss Milly, do you know, "--hesitatingly, --"I'd liever take someout of the 'lection expenses share, than to pass over the Yorkes. Iwould, really, Miss Milly. "

Truly, our Milly was reaping a rich fruit of generosity, loyalty, andearnest endeavor, from the seed of self-sacrifice and charity which sheherself had shown in faith and hope. And this, too, in ground which theon-lookers had judged to be so hardened and stony that no harvest wasto be gathered therefrom. Oh, my Milly, sweet soul, "Great feelings hath she of her own, Which lesser souls may never know. "

CHAPTER IV. 

"FOOD FOR THE GODS. "

Behold our household now settled in our city home, --our summer by thesea, with all its many pleasures, and its measure of perplexities andanxieties, a thing of the past; our stay at Oaklands, where papa hadenjoyed himself to his heart's content, all the more for his enforcedabsence of the previous months, also over; and the different members ofthe family, according to his or her individual taste, occupied withdivers plans and projects for the winter's duties and diversions. 

In view of certain contingencies which were likely to arise in thefuture, --father and mother said in the _far_ future; and, indeed, although it was pleasant to contemplate them from a distant standpoint, I was in no haste to leave my dearly beloved home, --in view of these, and with the comfort and well-being of a certain young man before myeyes, to say nothing of my own pride in my housekeeping capabilities, Ihad chosen to enlist myself as a member of a "cooking-class. " Saidcooking-class was to meet once a week, in the afternoon, at the houseof each member, in turn, when we were to try our maiden hands on thecomposition of any such dishes as we might choose; after which, certainmartyrs--namely, the aforesaid young man, and sundry of his friends andassociates--were to be allowed to join us, and, in case they were nottoo fearful of consequences, to test the results of our efforts. Milly, who had a regular engagement for the afternoon appointed, was not ableto aid in the culinary efforts, but pleaded, that, as she contributed asister, she might be allowed to join the later entertainment of theevening. And the plea was considered all sufficient, for who would notchoose Milly when she might be had? So said Bessie Sandford, ourinseparable friend and intimate; and there was no dissenting voiceamong the gay circle of girls. 

She did not intend, however, to be without her share in the flesh-potswhich were to furnish the more substantial part of the entertainment;and having a natural gift for cooking, --a faculty in which I wasaltogether wanting, --she promised to prepare some dainty dishbeforehand, and send it as her share in the feast. 

My last essay in that line had been in the shape of some gingerbread, of which article of diet father was very fond, and I had exerted myenergies on his behalf. When it was presented at the Sunday-eveningtea-table, the family, excepting papa, contented themselves withviewing it respectfully from a distance; even old Thomas, as he passedthe plate, regarding it doubtfully and askance. 

Father heroically endeavored to taste it; but mother, whose regard forhis physical well-being outweighed even her consideration for myfeelings, protested; and, with an air of relief, he obeyed thesuggestion. 

"What did you say it is? Ginger _bricks_?" asked Douglas. 

I took no notice of this, but later bade Thomas take all thegingerbread down-stairs. 

"Yes, Miss, " he answered, with an "I wouldn't care if I were you" sortof an air; and the gingerbread disappeared. The next morning, however, as I went to the store-room to execute some small order for mother, ourold cook confronted me. 

"Miss Amy, " she said, "whatever will I do with that gingerbread? Thereisn't one in the kitchen will touch it, not even them b'ys; an' all'smostly grist that comes to their mills. "

"Oh, give it away to any one that comes, " I answered indifferently, andconcealing, as I best might, my chagrin at this added mortification. 

But later in the day, Allie and Daisy, returning from their walk withmammy, rushed into the house in a state of frantic indignation. 

"Amy, Amy, " they cried; "Mary Jane gave your gingerbread to a tramp, and he looked at it and smelled it and tasted it, and then just laid iton the area steps and ran away. And Jim saw him; and he picked up thegingerbread, and broke it by throwing it on the sidewalk, and thenthrew the pieces at the tramp; and one hit him, and it was so hard itseemed to hurt him, but he just ran all the faster. "

From that time, more than a year since, I had forsworn all manner ofcooking, but now it seemed to me that the exigencies of the caserequired me to turn my thoughts to the matter; hence, when it wasproposed, I had been only too ready to join the cooking-class. 

The lady who had, from pure love of her kind, and a special interest inyoung girls, undertaken to superintend and direct our efforts, was anold friend of my mother and aunt Emily; the dearest, the sweetest, themost guileless, of maiden ladies, with a simplicity and lack of worldlyknowledge which were almost childlike, but very talented, and with amind intelligent and cultivated to an unusual degree. 

She was also famous among us for all kinds of handiwork, --for thedelicious cakes, soups, and all manner of dishes which she couldconcoct; for her painting and drawing, and her exquisite and originalfancy-work. Simple, although delicate, in her tastes, her personalwants were but few; and being possessed of a small income, which placedher beyond the need of employing her varied talents on her own behalf, she delighted in turning them to account for others. She stoodsingularly alone, with no direct family ties or responsibilities; andprobably no human being but herself ever knew the amount of workaccomplished by those slender, high-bred looking hands for the benefitand delight of others. The beautiful paintings and embroideries whichshe sent to the various societies for art work, and which were alwaysaccepted without demur, meeting as they did with an ever ready sale, brought their profits, not to her, but to others less gifted and moreneedy than herself. And many a dainty trifle wrought by her graced somesick-room, or home of straitened means, where there was neither timenor talent to be given for such adornment. 

Careless as to the prevailing mode, although exceedingly neat about herown personal attire, she was somewhat quaint and old-fashioned inappearance; at least, she had been until a short time since, when Millyand I, with Bessie Sandford, who was also a distant relation of MissCraven's, had taken her in hand, and by dint of a little teasing, andmuch persistence and coaxing, had induced her to submit herself to ourdictation in the matter of dress. But she could not, quite yet, reconcile herself to our requirements; at least, not without a littleflutter and protest against such innovations as we insistedupon, --against tied-back skirts, hair a little more in the fashion thanshe had been accustomed to wear hers, and collars and fichus of a moremodern date:

Hearing, the dear soul, that certain of our circle of girls wereanxious to attain some practical knowledge of cooking, and to attach tothe acquisition of that knowledge such "fun" as we might, she hadoffered, when applied to for certain of her receipts, to instruct theclass which we were desirous of forming. The offer was eagerly seizedupon, and so it came to pass that she had been installed as teacher anddirector of the mysteries in which we were about to dabble. 

Miss Craven, --"cousin Serena, " as we always called her--had been one ofthe warmest advocates of Milly's cause, when that young woman wasintent on taking upon herself the charge of Bill and Jim; and, hadMilly not been allowed to do so, I think that she would have undertakenit herself. She was continually making little gifts to these boys, notalways, it is true, just adapted to their needs or to their fancies;but they had the grace, rough as their antecedents had been, toappreciate the kindness which prompted them; and their room in thestable was decked with many a little bit of ornamentation bestowed byher. For one of her pet theories was, that one could educate the massesto a refining love of art, if one only kept such elevating influencesconstantly before them. 

The first meeting of the cooking-class was held at our house. Most ofthe girls were content to try their hands on this occasion on somesimple dish; but I--more ambitious, and also for excellent reasons ofmy own--had determined to provide a certain delicate and highlyflavored cream. In order that there might be no failure in this, andthat I might, by an unqualified success, retrieve my reputation, Isurreptitiously sought in advance two or three private lessons fromMiss Craven. These she was only too ready to give; and after practisingat home, closely following her directions, and assisted by old Thomas, who was almost as anxious for my triumph as I was myself, I succeededin turning out my cream, pure, rich, white, just the right consistency, and deliciously flavored. It was but a small quantity, however; just atrial sample, not enough for family distribution; and, calling Allieand Daisy to the secret session which Thomas and I were holding in thebutler's pantry, I divided the luscious morsel between them, exacting, first, the most solemn promise of secrecy. Allie demurred to this atfirst, having conscientious scruples about keeping any thing frommother; but she was finally persuaded to look upon it as a preparationfor an agreeable surprise, as I assured her that this was only theprelude to a more extensive treat to the whole family, as well as theclass. Moreover, the sight of the dainty, and Daisy's enjoyment of it, were too much for her, she having rather a leaning towards theflesh-pots. 

I was quite uplifted in my own estimation for the next twenty-fourhours or so, and pleased myself mightily with the thought of out-doingall the other girls with my dainty, luscious dish. Allie and Daisycould be trusted "not to tell, " when they had once given their promise;but they went about with a portentous aspect of having a secret, whichalmost made me regret that I had taken them into my confidence. 

It being leap-year, and our advantages, or possibly disadvantages, inconnection with that period being about to come to an end with theclose of the year, we had determined upon making the most of them. Hence our guests, when they should arrive, were to submit to be waitedupon, and to receive such attentions as they were accustomed to bestowupon us. 

The day and the hour had arrived, and the members of the class, eachone with an enormous protecting apron over her pretty dress, hadassembled in our front basement, which, being convenient to the kitchenand store-room, had been chosen as the workshop for the occasion. Eachwas intent on her own dish, and each in her turn was superintended andoverlooked by cousin Serena; but merry talk and laughter held theirown, in spite of business. 

"What are you making, Amy?" asked Mollie Morgan. "How delicious andcreamy that looks, and how readily you go to work about it. Why, Ithought you were no cook at all; but one would think you had been doingthat all your life. What is it?" she repeated, as I cast a guilty, deprecating look at Miss Craven. But cousin Serena had no thought ofbetraying me, and, although she must have heard, paid no attention toMollie's remarks. 

"It's food for the gods, " I answered carelessly, as I tossed theluscious compound about with a spoon. 

"Do you mean that is the name, or that it is your opinion that it isworthy to be food for the gods?" asked Bessie Sanford, who paused at myelbow, bearing in her hands a tray of delicate sponge-cakes. 

"Both, " I answered. 

"Amy is ambitious; see what she is making, girls, " said Mollie; andseveral, gathering round, peered at the diet of the gods with, as Iimagined, envy and admiration. 

"There!" I said, triumphantly, and as though I were a _cordon bleu_, accustomed to turn off feasts for an emperor--"There, now it is readyto go into the moulds. Oh, no, I have forgotten the flavoring. Jim, "for the boy was there to wait upon us, and to run upon errands--"Jim, go and ask Mary Jane for a bottle of vanilla flavoring. "

Now, I might have known better than to send Jim on this errand, forbetween him and Mary Jane there was a state of warfare, due, I mustsay, to her ill-temper and prejudice. Formerly it had been productiveof much annoyance and discomfort to the household, and had at lastreached such a climax, that father, who never interfered in domesticdetails, had unexpectedly taken the matter in hand, and given the oldwoman such a warning, that she had not since that time dared to giveopen vent to her dislike. But the fires, though smouldering, still werealive; and Jim never cared to ask her for any thing, or to carry amessage to her. 

However, now he ran into the kitchen, and presently returned with abottle which he handed to me. Glancing at it, I saw that it wasproperly labelled, and I flavored with the contents according todirections; and, nothing doubting, then called upon cousin Serena tostamp it with her approbation, which she did. After which I poured themixture into the moulds, and set it away. 

Fairly well satisfied with the results of our afternoon's work, weremoved such traces of it as had left their impress, took a short rest, and were ready in due time to receive our leap-year guests. 

We were to have a high tea; the rest of our family, with cousin Serena, dining at an earlier hour than usual to accommodate us, and takingtheir later repast in the library. 

There was naturally much fun and jollity over the reversal of the usualorder of things, and we carried out our programme to the farthest;while our gentlemen displayed a degree of inefficiency and helplessnesswhich would have disgraced a six-year-old girl with a moderate amountof sense. 

All went well during the earlier part of the feast. Dish after dish waspartaken of, and commended; and there was a universal chorus ofapproval for the fair cooks. 

"It is going to pass off without a failure, " I said to myself, recalling triumphantly the scepticism as to our capabilities, whichsome of our friends had testified. 

And now appeared, in its turn, my own dish, --the "food for thegods, "--brought by Thomas and his assistants, with a little extraflourish as the work of their own young lady. 

We were in groups of four, at little tables placed about the room; andthe gentlemen, as had been arranged, were helped first to each course. Happening to raise my eyes to address the youth upon my right hand, Isaw his countenance suddenly distorted by a contortion expressive ofany thing but pleasure. Turning involuntarily to my left-hand neighbor, who happened to be Mr. Winston, I saw a grimace, almost similar, passover his face, followed by a look of blank astonishment at me. 

Then came the voice of my brother Edward from an adjoining table, as hesat with uplifted spoon, gazing down upon the contents of his plate. 

"Amy, " he said, "what under the heavens is this?"

"Food for the gods, " I answered, startled and dismayed; for I could nothelp seeing that something must be very wrong to betray Edward intosuch a breach of etiquette. 

"Then we will not deprive the gods of it, " said my brother; "and maythe celestial--or was it for the infernal deities that it wascompounded?--forgive you for inflicting this upon them. Winston, spareyourself, my dear fellow; the utmost stretch of politeness could notdemand such a sacrifice of you. "

For Fred Winston, true gentleman and loyal knight that he was, wasmaking the most heroic efforts to swallow a little more of myhandiwork. 

And this from Edward, usually the most chivalrous of brothers!

I glanced around the room, and saw a similar state of affairs on everyside. All those who had been unfortunate enough to taste the "food forthe gods" wore a more or less distressed expression. I plunged my ownspoon into my plate, and carried it to my mouth. 

Pah! Any thing more nauseous I had seldom tasted. The gods were indeedto be pitied!

I covered my face with my hands as a laugh pealed around the room; andNorman came dashing into it, and up to me. 

"Amy, " he said, in a loud whisper which could be heard by all, "mothersays don't let any one touch that stuff of yours. It's awful!"

"Awful" indeed! But it was too late; enough tasting had been done tocover me, as I felt, with everlasting disgrace. 

"Amy was so awfully cock-a-hoop about her new dish, too, " began Norman;"and now----"

But his brotherly remarks were cut short by my left-hand neighbor, withan intimation, that, if he had any regard for his physical or mentalwell-being, he would at least postpone them. 

Overcome with mortification and chagrin, I would fain have left theroom, not only to hide my diminished head, but also to consult cousinSerena on the possible cause of this mishap, when Jim came up to me, and said, in an aside even louder than Norman's, --

"Miss Amy, it wouldn't poison none of 'em, would it?"

When Jim had any thing on his mind it must come out, regardless of timeor place; and there was that in the boy's tone and manner whichinstantly convinced me that he knew more than appeared on the surface, and I turned hastily to him:--

"Poison any one? Why should it?" I asked. 

"It's the liniment, Miss Amy, " he answered nervously; "an', if they waspoisoned, me or you might be took up. We'd best have a doctor, maybe. "

Matters were growing serious; and springing from my seat, withoutapology to my guests, I bade the boy come into Thomas's pantry. ThitherI was followed by Fred and Edward, who heard the confession of thefrightened lad. 

"It's the liniment, Miss Amy, " he repeated. "Mary Jane's liniment forher rheumatics; but I think it ought to be her to be took up more thanyou an' me. "

"Speak out, boy, and tell us what you mean, " said Edward, imperatively;for he felt, that, if there was any reason for Jim's alarm, there wasno time to be lost. 

Thus pressed, Jim said that when I had sent him for the flavoring, hehad caught up a bottle which he supposed to be the right one, and ranback without consulting the old cook. 

Nothing doubting, I had made use of the contents; and he had possessedhis soul in peace until a few minutes since, when Thomas had sent himon an errand to the kitchen, and he had heard Mary Jane bewailing theloss of her bottle of "rheumatiz liniment. " She at once charged himwith hiding it to torment her, but, before he could defend himself, oneof the other servants asked what kind of a bottle it was; to which shereplied, that it was a vanilla-bottle into which she had emptied theliniment, as that in which the lotion belonged had been cracked, andthat she had stood it "just there. "

A horrible conviction rushed upon Jim: "just there" was the place fromwhich he had taken the bottle he brought to me. He dashed into thefront basement, found there the bottle in question, and speedilyverified his own fears; then hurried up-stairs to prevent Thomas fromtaking in the "food for the gods. " Alas! it was too late: the dish wasalready dispensed, a due portion having also been sent in to thetea-table in the library; and my disgrace was an accomplished fact. 

Dread of the after consequences now took possession of Jim, and thisimpelled him to an immediate disclosure of the mistake. Indeed, none ofus were without our misgivings; and Edward, sending for the bottle, went with it at once to our family physician, who lived but a few doorsfrom us. 

Dr. Graham laughed heartily when he heard of the mishap, and toldEdward that there was no cause for alarm; as, although he would notadvise unlimited indulgence in the lotion as a beverage, such harmfulqualities as its ingredients possessed would be reduced to a minimumwhen mixed in the proportion Edward mentioned with the other articlesof which the "food for the gods" was compounded. 

So the matter became a joke to every one but me and the old cook, whoreceived a severe reprimand for her carelessness in putting theliniment in an improper receptacle, and then leaving it in an improperplace. 

Thus ended my attempt at culinary distinction; a regard for thewell-being of my friends and even for their lives, inducing me to quitthe field without further trial of my powers. 

What a long tale about a foolish mistake, it may be said; but, as"great events from little causes spring, " the results of that mistakewere vast and far-reaching, and we had not yet heard the last of the"food for the gods. "

CHAPTER V. 

THE "MORNING BUGLE. "

"Look at this disconsolate pair; melancholy has evidently marked themfor her own, " said Bessie Sanford, as she and I crossed the corner ofthe square, bound for an afternoon walk; aimless, except in the searchfor fresh air and exercise. 

The "disconsolate pair" were my little sisters, Allie and Daisy, whonow approached, trundling their dolls' perambulators in front of them, and followed by mammy, who came limping after, also wearing a mostlugubrious expression; but whereas their distress was plainly mental, her's was physical, drawn forth by pain. 

"Old mammy has an attack of her pet bunion, " I said, "and I supposethat the children are, in consequence, debarred from their walk, andthey have but just come out. Poor little things! What do you say, Bessie, to taking them with us? They would be enchanted. "

"So should I. By all means let us take them, " answered Bessie, who hada love for children and their company, only second to my own. 

"O, sister Amy!" cried both the little ones, dropping theperambulators, and rushing up to us as soon as their eyes fell upon us, "Mammy's bunion hurts so, she can't take us to walk, and it's such alovely day, and we want to go Jim's peanut-stand. "

And the ever ready tears rushed to the eyes of Allie, who was prone toweep upon slight provocation; and even Daisy, who was morephilosophical, though younger, looked heart-broken. 

Sunshine speedily succeeded the showers, however, for my proposal thatthey should accompany us was received with rapture; and, taking theirdolls into their arms, they abandoned the perambulators to the care ofmammy, who hobbled towards home with them. This bunion was mammy'schoice grievance, and she doubtless suffered much from it; but it wasan article of the family faith, that, when for any reason she wasdisinclined to take her walks abroad with the children, the bunionsympathized with this reluctance, and crippled her to an unusualextent. 

"And where do you want to go?" I asked of the beaming pair, who werenow hanging, the one on Bessie's arm, the other on mine. "Bessie and Ido not much care which way we go. "

"Oh, " said Daisy, ecstatically, "if you would only take us to Jim'speanut-stand! Mother said we might go, and then mammy couldn't takeus. "

"It's not fash'nable, but it's very respectable, Amy, " said Allie, impressively. 

"But we cannot go to a peanut-stand, even though it belongs to Jim, " Iexpostulated. 

"But it's not in the street; it's--you know Johnny, the flower-man, sister?" said Allie. 

"Johnny the flower-man" was a German florist on a small scale, who hada little glass-enclosed stand on the corner of the avenue next to thaton which we lived, and who was extensively patronized by our family andmany of our neighbors. His box of a place, cosey, warm, and fragrant, was a favorite resort of our children; and much of their pocket-moneywent to the purchase of the potted plants and cut flowers which he soldto them at a wonderfully reasonable rate. But what had the littleGerman to do with Jim and his peanut-stand? Allie soon enlightened us. 

"Jim was going to have the stand on that corner, " she said, "and he hadleave to do it; but mamma and aunt Emily said it would not do for Tonyand Matty to sit out of doors in the cold weather; it would kill Matty, they said. And Jim was so disappointed, and he didn't know what to do;and one day when sister Milly sent him to Johnny's, he told him aboutit, and about Tony and Matty; and that lovely old Johnny, --Daisy and Iask God to bless him every night when we've done our own people, --hetold Jim he could have a little corner of his store where it was allglass, and the stand could be seen from the street; and then Mattycould sit there, and people would come in and buy her peanuts. Wasn'tit good in him? We love Johnny, if he does squint, and smell oftobacco, and can't talk very plain. "

"And then, " said Daisy, taking up the tale in her turn, as Allie pausedfor breath, "and then there wasn't room there for the roaster, 'causeit's pretty squeezed up in Matty's corner, and in Johnny's store, too, wif the stand there; so Johnny's wife, who lives just a little bit of away off, lets Tony have the roaster up in her room, and roast thepeanuts, and then he runs very quick wif 'em over to Matty, or, if it'sa nice, pleasant day, he has it put outside the door. But the smell ofthe peanuts gets mixed up wif the smell of the flowers, and that isn'tso very nice. "

"But Jim is making lots of money, he says, " continued Allie; "'causemost always when people come in to buy flowers, Johnny tells 'em they'dbetter buy peanuts, too; and Jim printed a sign in German about peanutsinside, and put the meaning in English beneath, and he says he thinkshe is doing a better business than if Matty sat outside. Norman andDouglas buy lots, but, " with a little sigh, "mother don't like Daisyand me to eat peanuts. It would be a good way to do charity if shewould let us; but sometimes we buy some, and give them to theservants. "

Jim and his "peanut undertakin', " as Captain Yorke had called it, had, in the press of other and greater interests, almost passed from mymind, and I had made no inquiries about it lately; but, as visions ofnumerous peanut-shells in the most unheard of places returned to myrecollection, I could not doubt the truth of Allie's assertion inregard to my brothers. 

While the children had been talking, we had been gradually walking ontowards the desired haven, --the corner where the German florist had histiny store; and presently we came to it. The little glass enclosure wasone mass of vivid green, and brilliant, glowing color; for Johnny wasremarkably successful in the treatment of his plants, and they alwayswore a thrifty, healthy aspect, delightful to behold. 

Without, just at the side of the door of entrance, hung the signdescribed by Allie; and Daisy at once drew our attention to it. 

The "German" legend ran thus:--

 "Goot rost benuts ish incite, nein sents a quoort. Shtep in unt py. "

The English translation followed:--

 "Good roost peanuts is inside, nine cents a quart. Step in and by. "

Bessie and I were inwardly amused, but did not let it appear to theadmiring children. Allie, however, had her own misgivings as to theabsolute correctness of the sign, and said, doubtfully, --

"I suppose the German must be all right, because Jim says that is theway Johnny talks; but the English is not spelled quite right, is it, sister Amy?"

"Not altogether, " I answered; "but perhaps it attracts more attentionthan it would do if it were quite correct, Allie, and that, you know, is the object of a sign or notice. "

"Yees, " said Allie, doubtfully, lingering behind a moment to scan thesign as I opened the door, and still inclined to criticise; "ye-es, butsomebody might laugh if it is not spelled quite right. "

"That is of no consequence so long as it does not hurt business, " Isaid, shamelessly indifferent to the orthographical merits of the case. "Come in, Allie, we must not keep the door open too long. "

At the farthest end of the crowded little cubby-hole, --all the morecrowded, of course, for the accommodation which the good-hearted Germanhad afforded to Jim's beneficiaries, --sat the little deformed Matty, behind her stand, on which were displayed a tempting pile of freshlyroasted peanuts, and various bright, new measures. Outside, on thestreet, could be seen Tony, grinding away at his revolving roaster; forthe day was so exceptionally lovely, that there could be nothing in theair to injure him, and he doubtless preferred its freshness, and thebrilliant sunshine, to the presumably dark and stuffy quarters of Mrs. Johnny. 

[Illustration: "AT THE FARTHEST END SAT THE LITTLE DEFORMED MATTY. " _Page_ 96. ]

Poor, poor Matty! Deformed, shrunken, and wizened, she was a painfulcontrast to all the beauty and brightness surrounding her in the littleconservatory. Beyond the sympathy unavoidably drawn forth by herhelpless and crippled condition, there was absolutely nothing toattract one toward her. She looked peevish and fretful, too, so far asthere was any expression in the dull, heavy face. Was it to be wonderedat? There had been but little of brightness in her young life; and as Ilooked from her to my little sisters, our petted household darlings, carefully guarded and shielded, so full of life and joyousness, so freefrom all pain or care, my heart swelled with thankfulness, that to themhad been allotted no such fate, and with the desire to brighten the lotof this little unfortunate. 

It was not so with her brother Tony: he was the jolliest, most activelittle cripple that ever hobbled round on one leg and a crutch. Thecelerity of his movements was something surprising; his voice was merryand cheery; and his ugly young face, despite the many hardships of hislot, generally wore a smile. 

Now and then he would be seen with his face pressed against the glass, with a nod of good-fellowship to his sister or Johnny, or staring atsuch customers as happened to be within; and, if these proved to beMatty's patrons, he would watch the progress of the sale with greatinterest. Then he would turn to his roaster, and work it violently fora few moments, then be off to the curbstone or crossing, exchangingsome, probably not very choice, joke with some other street-gamin, orthe conductor or driver of a passing street-car. 

The children, Allie and Daisy, made their investments while I wastaking these observations, and Bessie was purchasing cut-flowers fromthe old German. She was a good German scholar, and delighted the heartof the old man with the familiar language of the fatherland, whichflowed glibly from her tongue. The consequence was, that that politicyoung woman left the florist's with three times the amount of flowersthat I had, although I had spent just twice as much money. But, then, Icould not speak German. 

"I am going to take my flowers to cousin Serena, " I said, after we hadleft the florist's, and exchanged a word or two with jolly little Tonyas we passed. "Will you come and see her, Bessie?"

Bessie assented, and the two little ones were only too glad toaccompany us. A visit to cousin Serena was always a treat to them. 

"And we will give her the peanuts we bought; she likes peanuts, " saidDaisy, who, as well as Allie, had maintained a silence, quite unusualwith them, during several minutes. 

"But we'd like her and all our people to understand, " said Allie, loftily, "that we buy peanuts because of Jim, and not at all because ofMatty. She's the most unchristianest child we ever saw; and I think hersoul is hunchback, too, just as well as herself. "

I had seen that Matty had repelled the advances of the children, whohad wished to show her their dolls, and to be kind to her; and Iendeavored to soothe them, and excuse her, by telling them how much shehad to suffer, and how her disposition might have been spoiled by allthat she had undergone. 

But my words made no impression; the children were not to be mollified. Allie still wore an air of outraged and offended dignity; and Daisy notonly maintained that solemn silence, but she looked grieved and hurt. Our little ones were not accustomed to be snubbed, and took it hardwhen such an experience did befall them; but there was a preternaturalgravity about them now, which excited my wonder. 

"Why, Daisy, " exclaimed Bessie, suddenly, "what is the matter with yourcheek? It is all red and scratched. What have you been doing toyourself?"

"She didn't do it to herself, " said Allie, indignantly, and beforeDaisy could speak. "We didn't want to tell tales; but, sister Amy andcousin Bessie, I think you are not very _noticeable_, not to seeDaisy's cheek before this. We are very much disappointed in you. "

We apologized humbly, saying that Daisy's broad felt hat had preventedus from seeing the state of her cheek before this, and inquired moreminutely into the cause thereof. 

With some reluctance the children told, that, while Bessie and I hadbeen making our purchases of flowers, they had, after buying theirpeanuts, tried to make themselves agreeable to Matty; but she hadproved far from responsive, and would not even look at the beautifuldolls which they proffered for her admiration. Believing that shynessalone was the cause of this ungraciousness, and filled with pity forher condition, Daisy had at last raised Matty's arm and placed her dollwithin it, when the cripple suddenly turned upon her, and drew thenails of the disengaged hand viciously down poor little Daisy's softcheek, while, with the other, she threw the doll from her. Fortunately, the doll was not hurt; but the insult to her cherished darling hadgrieved Daisy more deeply than did the injury to herself. She hadheroically refrained from crying out, or making any complaint, lestJohnny should be moved to espouse her cause, and avenge it on Matty;but it had gone to her heart, and to Allie's as well, that, after suchforbearance, neither Bessie nor I should have noticed her plight. However, we made up for it now by an outburst of indignation andresentment, especially violent on my part; whereupon, the sage Allieturned my own moral lecture, so lately delivered, upon myself, recalling my exhortations to the effect that we should be patient andforgiving with one so sorely afflicted as Matty Blair. 

When we reached cousin Serena's, a little arnica and some Frenchbonbons healed Daisy's wounds, both mental and physical; but whenhappiness and peace were once more restored, and she was seated uponMiss Craven's lap, with Allie beside her, and the box of chocolatesbetween them, cousin Serena herself was discovered to be in a state ofno small flutter and excitement. 

"My dears, " she said, "have you seen the 'Morning Bugle' of to-day?"

"No, " I said, emphatically. "Father would not allow that paper to comeinto our house. "

"Nor would my father, " said Bessie. 

"He says it is a scandalous sheet, " I added. "He would not have it ifthere were not another newspaper in the city. "

"Nor would I in my own house, " said Miss Craven; "but, " apologetically, "when one is in a boarding-house, my loves, you know one cannot controlother people. "

"I should think not, " said Bessie. "It would be hard, indeed, if youwere held responsible for the morals, or the literary tastes, of Mrs. Dutton's other boarders. "

"But you dearest of Serenas, " I said, "you know you need not read the'Morning Bugle' because some of the other people in the house take it. O Serena, Serena, " reproachfully, "I thought better things of you! That_you_ should allow your mind and morals to be poisoned in that way!"

"My dear Amy! My dear children!" exclaimed the dear, matter-of-fact oldlady, who never knew when she was being teased, which made it all themore delightful to tease her. "My dear loves, you do not think I readthat scandalous sheet! Why, this morning I should have said thatnothing would induce me to touch it; but when Mrs. Dutton came up withthe paper in her hand, and said, 'Is not this meant for your friends?'what could I do? I had to take it, and read the paragraph; and, mydears, here it is. Oh, I have been so unhappy all day about it! Whatwill your father and brother do? Mrs. Dutton let me cut this out, whenshe saw how I felt about it. "

I took the scrap of paper which she handed to me; and the blood rushedto my heart, as I read an item with the following heading:--

"A MADISON-SQUARE SENSATION. "

It was a garbled and scurrilous account of the late little incident atour house, implying, indeed openly asserting, that there had been awholesale attempt at poisoning. Names were not given, not even theinitials under which the reporters of such gossip often pretend todisguise publicity, and in a measure avoid responsibility; but, to theinitiated, there could be no doubt that the paragraph referred to myunlucky cookery. Further particulars, it was said, would be given at alater date, although it was difficult to obtain information, as theparties concerned had endeavored to hush up the matter; and "money is apower in this community. "

I turned faint and giddy as I read; while Bessie, who looked over myshoulder, burst into a tempest of indignant exclamation. 

"Dear child! Don't turn so white, Amy, my dear; I am so sorry I showedit to you, " cried Miss Craven, aghast at my alarm and agitation. "It isoutrageous, scandalous; but it cannot hurt you: you see no names aregiven. But I shall never forgive myself, for I told Mrs. Dutton aboutthe 'food for the gods'. She was interested, you know, when you werehere with me learning to make it, and asked me how it turned out. Butshe is discretion itself; she would not say a word, nor let any oneknow--Oh! my dear child, what shall I do? What shall we all do?"

But the vivid imagination with which I was credited by my friends, andwhich not unseldom did cause me many a needless foreboding, was rampantnow; and visions arose before me of disgrace to the family, if thosedreadful newspaper people did, as they threatened, "give furtherparticulars, " and perhaps go to greater lengths, and even print my namein their horrible sheet. Should I ever be able to hold up my headagain? I sat in dumb, terrified astonishment. 

But here, Bessie, with her practical common sense, came to the front, and brought me back to reason. 

"So that is the way you meant to make such a success of your 'food forthe gods, ' is it, you fraud?" she said, putting her hands on myshoulders, and playfully shaking me, "coming here and practising withcousin Serena, forsooth; and the rest of us experimenting with ourfirst efforts. O Amy, Amy, I would not have believed it of you. And thegods themselves turned against you. Their mills did grind exceedingsure that time, and not so slowly, either; vengeance followed, swiftand sure. You deserve this. Cheating play never prospers, Amy; and'honesty is the best policy, ' and all that. "

Meanwhile, the children were gazing from one to another of theirelders, not knowing what to make of all this, --Allie uncertain whetheror no she had better call upon her ever ready tears, Daisy bewildered, and at a loss to know upon whom to bestow her sympathy, cousin Serenaor me; for I had not yet put my miserable imaginings into words, and mystartled looks alone appealed to her; while Miss Craven was in ahalf-frantic state of excitement; and, as for Bessie, she had at firstappeared furiously angry, and now, with a sudden change, was turningthe whole thing into a laugh. What could it all be about? wonderedthese innocents. 

"Oh, " I gasped at last, "what shall we do? What will papa say? Whatwill uncle Rutherford say? What will Edward say? What will----"

"Yes, my dear, what will Fred say?" Bessie completed my unfinishedsentence, as I paused, overwhelmed. "They will each and every man ofthem settle this matter, to the anguish of that editor, if I know them, and without one word of trouble or publicity to you, or any one of thefamily. You dear goose, you, to make such a personal matter of it. Whynot, Jim; why not still more, Mary Jane?"

"I must go home, " I said, feeling a burning desire to find at once mynatural protectors, and to place the matter in their hands; and go Iwould and did, cousin Serena accompanying me, with Bessie and thechildren. We paused by the way, to knock at Mrs. Dutton's door, and toask her if she had called the attention of any of the other boarders tothat shameful paragraph. 

Mrs. Dutton, motherly, gentle, refined, a lady in birth, education, andmanner, and with a warm corner in her heart for the girls, big andlittle, who ran in and out on their visits to Miss Craven, assured usthat she had not done so; and, in answer to my anxious inquiries, said, also, that she had never mentioned the incident of the "food for thegods" to any one. 

It is not necessary to state, that my mankind were incensed when theysaw the objectionable paragraph, although they did make light before meof my terrors and apprehensions; and it remained a fact, that Edwardwent at once to a friend and brother lawyer, to request him to takesteps to prevent any further annoyance or developments in the matter. It so happened, said this gentleman, that he had a hold upon the editorof the "Morning Bugle, " which that personage would be very sorry tohave him use to his disadvantage; and he assured Edward that he wouldsettle the affair in such a way that none of us need fear any futuretrouble or publicity. 

How the thing had become known so as to afford matter for newspapergossip, we could not tell, and did not much care to know; probably, through the talk of the servants, who had, of course, been acquaintedwith all the particulars of the unfortunate incident. Exaggeration, anda wilful desire to falsify a trifle to the discredit of those concernedhad done the rest; but our lawyer friend's remedy proved effectual, andthe "Morning Bugle" was silenced. 

CHAPTER VI. 

UNCLE RUTHERFORD'S PRIZE. 

Uncle Rutherford, the most generous, the most benevolent, of men, had, nevertheless, the most exasperating way of carrying out his kindnesses. He would suggest or hint at something delightful, and which just metthe views or desires of his hearers, dwell upon it for a time, then, after leading one to the very height of expectation, would apparentlyput the matter entirely from his thoughts, and for days, weeks, ormonths, nothing further would be heard of it. 

To urge its fulfilment, or to endeavor to discover what his intentionsmight be, was never productive of any good; on the contrary, hisintimates believed that this still further deferred the wished-forresult. Even aunt Emily, his much beloved and trusted wife, had learnedto possess her soul in patience, when he was supposed to be revolvingany thing of this nature in his mind. 

The question of Jim's future had never been alluded to by him sincethat day last September, when it had been discussed at our seaside-home;and now it was nearly Christmas, and Milly was on tenter-hooks to knowif there was any thing favorable in store for her _protégé_. She knewbetter, as I have said, than to hurry matters, or to ask any questions. That uncle Rutherford had not forgotten it, however, was evident fromthe way in which he watched, and apparently studied, the boy's ways andcharacter; Jim all the while quite unconscious of such scrutiny. 

"Milly, " he said, on the evening of the day following that of theepisode of the "Morning Bugle, "--"Milly, I see that boy Jim has atemper which needs some curbing. "

Now, "a temper" was uncle Rutherford's _bête noir_, albeit his own wasnot of the most placid type, and that it was liable to be roused towhat he called "just indignation, " on that which to others appearedsmall provocation. The flash was always momentary, but it was severewhile it lasted; and it had ever been a cross and a stumbling-block tohim, spite of the polite name by which he called its manifestations. Itwas probably the recollection of the trouble it had brought to him, andof the struggles which even now it cost him, an elderly man, which madehim so intolerant of its existence in others, especially the young. Itis not necessary for the reader to quote the oft-repeated proverb aboutdwellers in glass houses, for uncle Rutherford was perfectly consciousof the exceeding fragility of his own panes; and his only wish was towarn and help those who were cursed with a fiery, impetuous spirit likehis own. 

That Jim was a victim to this, no one could deny, and Milly did notattempt to dispute it now; she merely assented meekly, and acknowledgedthat Thomas and Bill were constantly rescuing him from street-fights, and other escapades of that nature. And there were times when, in someof his rages with his fellow-servants, the raised tones of his furiousvoice had penetrated to the upper regions, and called for interferencefrom the higher powers; but these occasions were becoming more and morerare. His devotion and loyalty to Milly and the other members of thefamily who had befriended him were not infrequently the occasion ofthese outbursts; for, at the smallest real or fancied injury or slightto any one among us, he was up in arms, and his tongue and his fistswere only too ready to avenge us. He was very impatient, too, of anyallusion by others to his own origin, or to the state of degradationfrom which Milly had rescued him and Bill, although he would discuss itmore or less freely with her, and with his boon companion and chum. 

"What has Jim been doing now, uncle?" asked Milly; her hopes for theadvancement of the boy through uncle Rutherford's means falling, as shewondered if he were noticing only to find out the flaws in a by nomeans faultless character. 

"Just that; been in a street-fight, or what would have proved astreet-fight, if I had not come upon the scene just in time to call himto his senses, and to order him into the house instanter, " said ouruncle; "and, from what I could learn, he attacked a boy much largerthan himself, on very small provocation, --merely, that the boy disputedhis claim to the name of Livingstone, by which it appears he chooses todub himself. "

"He does not know his own name, " said Milly, apologetically. 

"That is no reason that he should call himself by yours, " rejoineduncle Rutherford. 

"It is something of the old feeling of feudal times, or that which usedto make our Southern slaves adopt the surnames of their masters, Ithink, " said Edward. "Jim thinks that 'them as belongs to Livingstonesought to be called Livingstone. '"

"Captain Yorke proposed to him to take his, " said I, "but Jim declined, on the ground that Yorke was not so nice a name as Livingstone for the'President of these States. ' He has it in his heart, too, to conferhonor upon our family name by the reflected glories of the position towhich he aspires. "

"The boy's spirit of gratitude and appreciation, at least, are worthyof all credit, " said aunt Emily. 

"And, whatever he may owe to Milly and the family, he has alreadyrepaid the debt with interest, " said mother; her thoughts, doubtless, recurring to Jim's heroic rescue of the youngling of her flock--herbaby Daisy--from a frightful death; to say nothing of his sturdyfidelity to the welfare of our household and property undercircumstances of great temptation and fear during the last summer. 

"I had thought, " said uncle Rutherford, slowly, and Milly's facelighted up; was it coming at last? "I had thought, if you judged wellof it, " turning to mother, "of having him go to the publicgrammar-school for this year, and there to test his capabilities, notonly in the way of learning, but even more in his power and desire tocontrol this temper of his. If he gives satisfaction, and proveshimself worthy of it, let him continue at school until he is fitted forit, when I will give him a scholarship which I own in the School ofMines. At present it is filled, but will fall vacant about the timethat Jim will be ready to take it. There is another boy on whom I havemy eye, who has the same bent for a calling that Jim has, and whom Iwish to befriend and help; but he, too, has faults which I hope to seehim correct, --faults in some respects more serious than Jim's, --and theprize will lie between these two. Whoever proves himself most worthyand capable, the most steady, reliable, and best master of himself, shall take the scholarship. But, if Jim goes regularly to school, hewill, of course, have to resign, in a great measure, his duties as ahousehold servant. Are you willing to have him do this? For I do notwish or intend to inconvenience you. What is your opinion of the wholematter?"

"Ask Milly, " said mother, "she is the arbitress of his fate. "

And uncle Rutherford looked to that young damsel. 

"What say you, Milly?"

There was little need of words. Milly's sparkling eyes and flushedcheeks spoke for her. This was so much beyond any thing she had hopedfor on behalf of the boy, that at first it seemed to her almost toogood to be true. And, yet, there were lions in the way. And, after amoment's consideration, she answered, somewhat hesitatingly, --

"I hardly know what to say, sir. "

We all looked in astonishment. Most of the family thought that Milly'shopes and ideas for the future of her _protégés_ were rather quixoticand unreasonable, aiming at taking them out of their proper sphere. Buthere her clear judgment and good sense saw some objections to uncleRutherford's plan. 

"You are very kind, more than kind, uncle, " she continued. "Such anoffer is, indeed, a 'chance' for Jim such as I had never dreamed of, and there could be no question between this, and his training as ahousehold servant; but I fear for the effect of the emulation upon him. If he is to gain this prize by outstripping or defeating another, thespirit of victory for victory's sake will take possession of him, andhe will make every thing give way to it. "

"Then he will not prove himself worthy of the prize, " said uncleRutherford, who had a fancy for inciting young people to efforts ofthis nature, and who was always holding out some prize to be strivenfor. 

"I don't know, " said Milly, a little wistfully; "he is so impulsive, soeager, so almost passionate, in the pursuit of any object on which hehas set his mind, that I am afraid too much of the spirit of rivalrywill enter into his efforts to win this. "

"And, " put in Norman, "he will be so cock-a-hoop if he is set to studyfor a scholarship, that there will be no bearing him, and----"

But Norman was brought to an abrupt silence, by a quick reprimand fromfather; while uncle Rutherford took no notice of the interruption, butcontinued to urge upon Milly the acceptance of his project. Itundoubtedly presented so many advantages for Jim, that these finallyoutweighed her scruples, and she agreed thereto with earnest thanks. 

"Who is the other fellow, uncle?" asked Norman the irrepressible, "anyone whom we know?"

"Yorke's eldest grandson, " said uncle Rutherford. 

"That sneak!" ejaculated Norman. 

"So that is your opinion of him, " said uncle, turning towards Norman. "Well, I have not myself much confidence in the boy. There is somethingabout him which I do not like; he is not frank and outspoken. He is abright lad, however, ambitious, and disposed to make the most of anyopportunities which fall in his way; and, for old Yorke's sake, I wouldlike to help him. Yorke pinched and saved and denied himself, to givethat boy's father an education, and illy he was repaid by the gracelessscoundrel, who dissipated his father's hard-earned savings, and halfbroke his heart, and that of his poor mother. The captain is buildingon this boy's future, now; and, if he does not show himself fit for acollege course, he may, at least, when he has had sufficient schooling, be taught a trade, and share the burden of the family support. We shallsee which will win the prize, Jim or Theodore. "

Douglas began to laugh in his quiet way, but Norman spoke out again. 

"Won't there be jolly rows, when those two come to be pitted againstone another, " he said. "Either one will do his best to keep the otherfrom winning it, even if he don't care for it himself. "

There was too much reason to believe that Norman's prophecy would provetrue. From the time that Theodore Yorke had appeared at hisgrandfather's, a pronounced state of antagonism had declared itselfbetween the two boys; and this had continued up to the time of ourleaving the Point. Jim, who was a great favorite with the old captainand his wife, seemed to look upon Theodore as an interloper, andtrespasser upon his preserves; and the latter at once resented thefamiliar footing on which he found Jim established in his grandfather'shouse, although he himself had never been there before, and hadhitherto been a stranger to all of his father's family. 

It had required the exercise of the strictest authority to maintain anything like a semblance of peace during the remainder of our stay at theseaside; and there were occasional outbreaks, which tended to any thingbut comfort to Captain Yorke's household. Our house and grounds wereforbidden to Theodore Yorke, in consequence of this feud; but Jim'sduties called him, at times, to the home of the old sailor, whence hewas accustomed to bring the daily supply of milk for the consumption ofthe family, and where he had been wont to linger as long as he daredwhen sent on this errand. More than once had he returned with a blackeye, cut lip, or other adornment of a warlike nature; and severalmilk-pails had been degraded from things of usefulness, by reason ofbeing used as weapons of offence and defence. 

And, although he knew all this, here was uncle Rutherford actuallysetting up these two already belligerent lads as rivals in the race forlearning and character, with such a prize in the future to the winner. His object would defeat itself. Was it to be supposed that temperswould be controlled, that any little tendency to take advantage of anenemy would be smothered, under these circumstances?

"Dear uncle, " said Milly, whose face had fallen when she heard who wasto be the rival candidate, "Jim is my charge; and you will not think meungracious, if I say that I cannot consent to let him enter the listsagainst Theodore Yorke. I know only too well that it would arouse allhis bad passions. As I said before, rivalry in any case would not bebest for him, but, against Theodore, it would be simply ruinous; and Iwould rather see him remain under Thomas's tuition, learning to be athorough and efficient servant, and to control his temper because rightis right, than to have him take the first honors in any college in theworld, if these are to be purchased by the fostering of an envy andjealousy which I am sure would be the result of your plan. "

"Saint Millicent is right, as usual, when her brands snatched from theburning are concerned, " said father, putting his arm over her shoulder. "I quite agree with her, Rutherford. We shall always see that boththose boys, Jim and Bill, are well provided for; and neither of themshall lack for such an amount of education as may fit him to make hisway in some respectable calling. To Jim we owe a debt which faroutbalances the benefit he has received at our hands. " And papa's eyeturned, with lingering tenderness, to the far corner of the room, whereAllie and Daisy, unconscious of the weighty matters which were beingdiscussed among their elders, were absorbed in happy play with dollsand dog. "When he is old enough and steady enough, we will set him upin some line of business which he may choose--eh, Milly?--that is, ifhe shows any aptitude for a mercantile life; and he may work his waythence to the Chief Magistracy, if he find the path which he imagineslies open to him. As for Bill, he runs Wall Street, you know; and hisvoice, and talent for music, would make _his_ way in the world. Thereis something that must be cultivated. "

"Do you mean, Millicent, that you are actually going to refuse my offerfor Jim?" said uncle Rutherford, in a tone of deep displeasure; for hedid not like to be circumvented when he had set his mind upon a thing, especially if it chanced to be one of his philanthropic schemes. Andthat same quick temper, which he had found his own bane, showed itselfnow, in the flush which mounted to his brow, and the sudden flash whichshot from his eyes. "Then, my dear, all I have to say is----"

_That_ was all he had to say; and Milly escaped something which wouldhave hurt her feelings, and which uncle Rutherford himself would haveregretted when another moment should have passed, for aunt Emily laidher hand upon his arm, half-whispering, as a noted imperial wife wasonce wont to do to her impetuous and fiery lord, "Nicholas, Nicholas!"and with a like, calming effect, for further words were arrested on hislips. 

There was a little awkward silence for a moment; then, as if by asudden inspiration, uncle Rutherford said pleasantly, --

"How absurd we all are! What need for either boy to know that he is arival to the other? Put the reward before each one, and tell him thatthe winning of it depends upon himself, and then we shall see. "

So, then, was it settled, to the satisfaction of all; uncle Rutherford, it is true, a little disappointed that the stimulus of emulation wasnot to enter into the contest; and the discussion was here brought to aclose by the appearance of Bill with a box of flowers "for Miss Amy. "

But there was a factor in the case, upon which we had not counted. 

In the privacy of their room over the stable, Bill and Jim heldconverse that night; and this was the substance of their communing, divested of unnecessary adornments of speech, with which those younggentlemen were wont to garnish their conversation when removed from therestraints of polite society. 

"There's a big thing up for you, Jim, " said Bill. "You'll hear of ityourself soon, I guess, from Miss Milly or Mr. Rutherford; but I gotfirst word of it. "

"What is it?" asked Jim. 

"You're goin' to school; you and Theodore Yorke, " said Bill. 

"I ain't goin' to no school with Theodore Yorke, " interrupted Jim. "There ain't no school would hold me an' him. "

"Yes, you are, if you know what's good for yourself, " said Bill; "andthere's some kind of a big prize for whichever comes out best man. "

"Then I'll go, if Miss Milly lets me; an' beat him, too, if it was justfor the sake of beatin', " said Jim, verifying the prophecy of his youngmistress. "But how do you know so much, an' what do you mean, Bill?"

"I didn't hear all they was sayin', and I s'pose I wasn't meant to hearnone of it, " answered Bill. "It was all the fam'ly folks, 'cept thechildren, was talkin'. Mr. Brady sent me to open the front-door whenthe bell rang, and it was some flowers for Miss Amy; and, when I wentto the door with 'em, they was all talkin' so busy they didn't hear meknock. I couldn't make out just what it all was; but you're to getschoolin', you and Theodore, and whichever does the best is to get moreschoolin', and some prize at the end when the schoolin's done; but MissMilly, she didn't want you nor him to know you was fightin' for it, 'cause she didn't think 'twould be good for _you_. She thought you'd betoo set on it, maybe, just to spite Theodore. She knows him and you, you see. "

"Yes, she might ha' knowed I wouldn't let _him_ get the best of me, "said Jim, viciously. "And you say I wasn't to be let know I was set onto beat him. "

"No, them was Miss Milly's orders; and I take it Mr. Rutherford didn'tlike it too much, " answered Bill. "He wanted you to know, and be set onyer mettle. But Miss Milly, she's boss of _us_, you know, and she gother own way. So, as I say, they ain't goin' to tell you nothin' aboutTheodore. "

"Then, maybe you oughtn't to ha' told me, " said Jim, musingly. "I don'tbelieve you ought. "

"I don't see the harm, " said Bill. "I wasn't told not to tell; theydidn't know I heard. "

"All the same, " said Jim, "you oughtn't to ha' told, when Miss Millydidn't want me to know. I am glad I do know, so as I can set out tobeat Theodore; and, Bill, this is goin' to give me a first-rate chance. You see if I don't get to be President, now. An', when I do, you'll seewhat'll be done to Theodore Yorke. "

"What?" asked Bill. 

"I don' know, I've got to think, " answered Jim; "but jus' you wait tillI get to be top man of these States. Won't Theodore get it!"

"Miss Milly didn't want you to know, 'cause she thought you'd be so setagainst him, and she thought you was bad enough that way a'ready, " saidBill. 

"I feel kinder sneaky to know it when she didn't want me to, " said Jim. "I guess, after all, I'm sorry you tole me, Bill; you hadn't a rightto, I guess. You come by it yourself kinder listenin'. "

Here the question of conscience and honor was broken in upon by thecoachman, who slept in an adjoining room, and who bade the boys ceasetheir chattering, as they disturbed him. 

Uncle Rutherford had left to Milly the telling of his plans for Jim'sfuture; and the following morning she called the boy to her, and setthem forth before him. 

He was to go to school this winter, beginning as soon as the Christmasholidays were over. With many earnest warnings, she pressed upon himthe necessity for self-control, as well as attention to his studies;telling him of the prize to be won if his course should provesatisfactory to Mr. Rutherford, but making no mention, of course, ofthe other candidate. He promised over and over again, that he would dohis very best to prove a credit to her, and to make her "awful proud"of him in the future, and that she should have no cause for complaint, either with his temper, or his lack of diligence. 

That he was enchanted with the opportunity thus offered to him, therecould be no doubt, but he did not appear as much surprised as Millyimagined that he would be; and there was something in his manner, which, at the time, struck Milly as rather strange, --a somethingrepressed, as it were, but excited; and, all the while, there was agleam of mischief in his eye. In the light of later developments, thecause of this was made plain; but now it was a mystery. 

"And now, Jim, " continued his young mistress, when she had told him ofall that lay within his grasp, and had added a gentle and persuasivemodicum of moral suasion, --"now that you are going out into the worldto make a way, it may be a name, for yourself, you must choose whatthat name shall be. You remember, " soothingly, for this was a sorepoint with the boy, --"you remember that we know you only as Jim. "

"It's Livin'stone, Jim--no, I mean James Rutherford Livin'stone, " saidthe boy, decidedly. "I'm goin' to put in the Rutherford on account ofMr. Rutherford bein' so good to me, Miss Milly; an' won't you an' himbe set up when you see Rutherford Livin'stone names onto a President ofthese States? I ain't never goin' to disgrace them names, that Iain't. "

But Milly, mindful of the prejudices of her relatives, and of theobjections which she foresaw from both sides of the family, found itneedful to decline the compliment. In order to avoid hurting the boy'spride, however, she went about it most diplomatically. 

"Do you not think, Jim, " she said, "that it would be a good thing foryou to call yourself by the name of Washington, the first and greatestof our Presidents?"

"Jim George Washington, Miss Milly?" answered the lad. "Well, thatwould sound nice; but, you see, I wanted to put the compliment on_you_, an' to show what lots of gratitude I've got for you an' yourfolks, Miss Milly. "

"The best compliment you could pay to me, and to my care for you, Jim, would be to show yourself in any way worthy of bearing the name of thatgreat and good man, " said Milly, non-plussed how to carry her point, and still not to wound her charge. "And, " she continued, "that namemight always prove a reminder to you of the truth and uprightness, thebravery and self-control, which distinguished him. "

"Miss Milly, " Jim broke forth, irrelevantly, it would seem, "you knowBill gets time for lots of readin' an' studyin' down at the office. When Mr. Edward don't have any thin' for him to do, an' he might bejust loafin' round, he's doin' his 'rithmetic, or his jography orspellin', an', if he wants a bit of help, Mr. Edward gives it to him, if he ain't _too_ busy just then; so Bill, he's comin' on with hislearnin' heaps faster than me; he's gettin' splendid at figgers, an' hereads the paper, too, on'y Mr. Edward, he don't like him to read themurders an' the hangin's, and them _very_ interestin' things; but Billread the other day in the paper how a man said George Washington had abig temper, an' could get as mad--as mad as any thin'. But Bill, hesaid he'd heard Mr. Edward an' some other gentleman talkin' 'bout howfolks was always tryin' now to be upsettin' of hist'ry; an' Bill sayshe reckons that 'bout George Washington was just another upsettin', an'him an' me ain't goin' to believe it. "

"That's right, Jim, keep your faith in Washington, and show that you doso by adopting his name, " said Milly. 

Do not let it be thought that Milly slighted the Father of her country, by thus turning over to him the "compliment" she declined for herselfand her family; for, in the multitude of namesakes who have helped toperpetuate that illustrious memory, poor Jim could reflect but aninfinitesimal share of credit or discredit. 

Jim pondered. The advantages of the world-renowned historic cognomenwere, doubtless, great. But the "compliment" to his friends! could hedefraud them of that?

Suddenly his face lighted; a brilliant idea had struck him. He couldcombine both. 

"Miss Milly, " he said, "I'll tell you. Now, I'll be named JamesRutherford Livin'stone Washin'ton, an' stick to that till I get interPresident polyticks; then I'll put the Livin'stone last, JamesRutherford Washin'ton Livin'stone, so folks'll be sure I belong to you. Bill says folks can change their names, if they has a mind to, whenthey come twenty-one. Bill's learned lots of law down to Wall Street, Miss Milly; he's up in it, I can tell you. "

"Very well, that will be best, " said Milly, content to defer to thedoubtful future the risk of having the family names appear in"President polyticks;" and so it was arranged, and her charge preparedto face the world as James Washington. 

CHAPTER VII. 

TWO PEANUT-VENDERS. 

Allie stood before the glorious wood fire, around which we were allgathered awaiting the summons to dinner, gazing intently into itsglowing depths, and evidently sunk in such deep meditation as to beoblivious, for the moment, of her surroundings, and of what she wasdoing; for her doll, a new and much prized Christmas-gift from uncleRutherford, and a beauty, hung disregarded, head downwards, in the handwhich had sunk unconsciously by her side, while, with the forefinger ofthe other pressed upon her rosy little lips, she seemed to be ponderingsome weighty matter. 

Daisy lay stretched with her doll upon the tiger-skin, and presently, looking up, roused Allie from her distraction. 

"Why, Allie, " she exclaimed, "what you finking about so much? SerenaVictoria is most upside down. Just look at her!"

Allie reversed her doll to its proper position; and, as she settled itscostume, gave Daisy her answer, by putting into words the thought whichwas vexing the minds of some of her elders, but addressed herself tome, as a kindred spirit. 

"Amy, do you b'lieve Mrs. Yorke will be very fit-to-be-seen to take outwalking or driving on the avenue, or in the park?"

"Why, Allie, " I said, weakly evading the question, and also answeringby another, "do you not think your friend Mrs. Yorke is always fit tobe seen?"

Still, Allie replied by a fresh query. 

"Amy, have you seen Mrs. Yorke's best bonnet? her 'sabbath bonnet, ' shecalls it. " And she turned upon me large eyes, full of solemn meaning. 

Yes, I had, indeed, seen Mrs. Yorke's "sabbath bonnet;" and it was therecollection of that appalling article of attire which at the presentmoment was weighing on my own spirits. 

Here Daisy piped up, also giving voice to the sentiments of hersisters. 

"Mrs. Yorke is very nice, " she said, "and we love her lots, but in herSunday clothes she don't seem like Mrs. Yorke. "

It was even so. Mrs. Yorke in her every-day costume, and Mrs. Yorke ingorgeous Sunday array, were two--and "oh the difference to me!"

"How do you know, " said uncle Rutherford, "but that Santa Claus himselfmay have taken the matter in hand? Mrs. Yorke's Sunday bonnet may nothave been to his taste, and he may have provided her with another. "

"I hope, then, " answered Allie, sceptically, "that he hasn't broughther a brown felt with red feathers and a terra-cotta bow. "

"That would not have improved matters much, would it?" asked uncleRutherford, with a twinkle in his eye. "No; I think his taste would runto black, perhaps. What do you say, aunt Emily?"

"I should say his fancy would lie in a black felt, with black velvettrimmings and feathers, " answered aunt Emily. "How would that do, Allie?"

"Very well, " said Allie, "if he brought her a black dress, too, 'steadof a' old plaid. "

"And a new cloak, too, " put in Daisy. "Her's isn't very pretty; I sawit once; but I'd just as lieve have Mrs. Yorke anyhow she was. "

The grammar might be childishly faulty, but the feeling of the speechwas without a flaw, and from the heart Daisy would have accepted Mrs. Yorke as she was, and thought it no shame or embarrassment to escorther anywhere; but bonny Allie was a lady of high degree, with an eyefor appearances and the proprieties, and Mrs. Yorke's antiquated andincongruous gala costume would sorely have tried her soul, although shewould doubtless have borne her company with a good grace, and with nooutward show of the pangs she might be enduring. How greatly she wasrelieved now could be judged by the laughing light which sparkled inher eyes, the dimples which showed themselves at the corners of hermouth, and the ecstatic way in which she hugged the long-sufferingdoll. 

"She'll be lovely and fit-to-be-seen now!" she exclaimed. "Won't she, Daisy? She'll look just like mammy. "

"But, " said Daisy, doubtfully, unconscious of the knowing gaze whichher older little sister had fixed upon uncle Rutherford's face, a gazewhich he returned with interest--"but _did_ Santa Claus bring Mrs. Yorke all those things, Allie?"

"Yes, he did; _a_ Santa Claus did; I'm perfectly sure he did, " saidAllie. "But they didn't come in her stocking, or grow on aChristmas-tree, either, _I_ know. "

"I fink he was real mean if he brought her all those, and didn't bringher a muff and some gloves and a' umbulla, too, " said Daisy. 

Before the laugh, which followed, had subsided, Thomas appeared at oneentrance to announce dinner, and mammy at the other to carry off hercharges. Full of the news they had to impart to her, of Santa Claus'ssupposed benefactions to Mrs. Yorke, they went more willingly thanusual. 

Yes, Christmas had come and gone, --Christmas with all its sacred, hallowed associations, its pastimes and pleasures, its lovingremembrances and family gatherings; and never had a dearer and happierone been passed beneath our roof. No, nor one more productive of choiceand beautiful gifts from each one to each; and the little ones hadoutdone themselves for the blessed and beloved holiday. 

And it was an article of the family creed, both on the Livingstone andRutherford sides, that the good things which had been so bountifullyshowered upon our pathway in life should be shared with others, especially at this season of peace and good-will. So it was nosurprise, although it was a great relief to some of us, to learn thatMrs. Yorke had been made presentable for the visit to the city, whichwould involve some attentions on our part that might have provedembarrassing had she appeared in her wonted holiday costume. Mother andaunt Emily had been the two good fairies who had wrought thetransformation through the medium of a Christmas-box, which hadcontained bountiful gifts for the whole Yorke family. 

And now Captain and Mrs. Yorke were to come to the city on the verynext day, accompanied by the--to Jim, at least--objectionable Theodore. Mrs. Yorke, whose crippled condition sadly interfered with her comfortand usefulness in life, was to be placed immediately under the care ofour own family physician, who had become interested in her case duringa visit paid to us at the seashore during the previous summer; and auntEmily had secured a comfortable abiding-place for her, not very farfrom our own home, where the children, whom she adored, and mammy couldoften run in to see her, and where the elder members of the familycould now and then pay her a visit. The captain was to remain with her, or not, as his inclination might prompt; but uncle Rutherford thought, that, the novelty of city sights and sounds once exhausted, the old manwould prefer to return to his accustomed haunts by the sea. Theodorewas to board with his grandparents, and to begin school with the NewYear; at the same time, and--alas! for the inexpediency of uncleRutherford's arrangements--in the same school, with Jim. 

Such were the plans which had been made for the Yorkes, and the juniorportion of our household were in a state of eager expectation overtheir approaching arrival; the desire to witness the old seaman's firstimpressions of a city life, and his own conduct therein, being strongwithin us. 

"We'll give him a good time, and get lots of fun out of it forourselves, " said Norman and Douglas, who proposed to be his pioneers. 

As for Bill and Jim, there was no telling what manner of projects theymight have formed for his edification, and their own amusement and his;and father considered it necessary to bid Milly give them a word ofwarning not to practise on the credulity of the old sailor, as they hadat times been wont to do while we were at the seashore. 

"And what about the mercantile enterprise of that youth, with so manyirons in the fire?" asked uncle Rutherford, when dinner was over, andthe door closed behind the retreating servants, while we still lingeredaround the table; the little girls having been allowed to come down todessert. "How does the peanut-business flourish, Milly? You are posted, I suppose. "

"Not so thoroughly as Allie and Daisy, " answered Milly. "I understandthat it is flourishing; but, if you wish for minute particulars, youmust apply to them. "

Allie, hearing what was passing, forthwith dived into the depths of hersmall pocket, and produced from thence a miniature account-book, sayingtriumphantly as she did so, --

"Jim's sold the first bag of peanuts, and bought another, and then soldthat; and now he's bought _two_ at once, and"--opening the book, andporing over it, --"and he's made--see, uncle Rutherford, here it is, "and she pointed out a row of crooked, childish, illegible figures; tobe understood, doubtless, by the initiated, but Greek to uncleRutherford. 

"How does the boy manage to keep account of his business?" asked uncleRutherford, returning the book to Allie, as wise as when she handed itto him, but not confessing his ignorance. 

"By preparing himself for a dyspeptic existence, " said Milly. "Heswallows his meals in haste, Thomas says, and rushes from the table, and around to the Fourth Avenue to receive Tony's report, and be backin time for his work. Nor is he always quite in time, I imagine; butThomas is indulgent and patient, and Bill helps him. I understand thatthe little cripples are really making fair sales, and Jim is reapingquite a harvest. "

"Yes, uncle Rutherford knows that by my 'count-book, " said unsuspiciousAllie. "Read it aloud, please, uncle, so they can all hear. "

"Hm--hm, yes, my dear; but I do not like to read aloud after dinner, "said uncle Rutherford, still forbearing to enlighten her innocence. 

"It isn't so _much_ reading, " murmured Allie, rather hurt, for shewas an over-sensitive child, prone to imagine slights, and, as we know, given to ready tears. "I'll tell you, people;" and she proceeded togive the amount made by Jim since he had established the peanut-stand, with its various divisions for the separate objects of his benevolenceand ambition. The latter figured under the head of "For to bePresident;" and if her accounts, or, rather, Jim's as set down by her, were to be trusted, he had really done very well in the stand business. 

"We know two deforms, " quoth Daisy, solemnly, as Allie closed; "onedeform is very nice and good, and the ofer is horrid and scratching. One is Captain Yorke's, and the ofer is Jim's peanut-stand girl. But wehave to be good to the cross deform, 'cause God made her that way. Allie and I are going to try and make her nice and pleasant, too. "

"She thinks we're proud, and only like to go to see her, and show herour nice dolls and things, to make her feel sorry, " said Allie; "Tonysaid so. And she turns her hump at us, and makes faces at us, and_won't_ think we want to be good to her. She thinks we're proud at her, 'cause she has to sell peanuts. "

"You go and sell peanuts, then, and show her you're not too proud to doit, " said Douglas, carelessly, and certainly with no thought that thesuggestion would ever be acted upon. 

"We needn't to have been afraid about Mrs. Yorke's fit-to-be-seenedness, "said Allie, hopping delightedly around on one foot, the day after thearrival of the Yorkes, and on her return from her first visit to them. "Why, she does look so nice; just as nice as mammy in her Sundayclothes. She looks almost lady. "

"Yes, she does, and it don't make any dif'ence, if she _behaves_ lady, "said Daisy; "and I fink she always behaves _very_ lady. Mamma, " with asudden and startling change of subject, "if somebody told you you coulddo somefing to help somebody, oughtn't you to do it?"

"Yes, my darling, if you can, " answered mother, rather oblivious, totell the truth, of the child's earnestness in putting the question; forshe was at the moment writing an answer to a note which had been justbrought in. 

"And it's very nice to do the kind fing, and not speak about it, isn'tit?" questioned Daisy. 

"Very, dear, " answered mother, still only half hearing the little one, and far from thinking that she was supposed to be giving her sanctionto a most unheard of proceeding. 

Mrs. Yorke's attire and general appearance proved satisfactory even tofastidious Miss Allie and myself; indeed, she would have passed musteramong any hundred elderly women of the respectable middle class; andthere was nothing whatever about her to attract special attention, unless one turned again for a second look at the kind, motherly oldface. There was a sort of natural refinement about her, too, which madeher adapt herself with some ease to her unaccustomed surroundings. 

As for the captain, he was a hopeless subject for those who had an eyeto fashion or the commonplace. No amount of attempts at smoothing ortrimming him down, no efforts at personal adornment in his case, couldmake of him any thing but what he was, here in the great city, as wellas at his seaside home, the typical old sea-faring man, rough, hearty, simple, and good-natured, garrulous to excess, as we had often proved, and not to be polished, or made what he called "cityfied. "

"'Tain't no sort of use whitewashin' the old hulk, " he asserted; "an' Iguess my Sunday clo's, as is good enough for the Lord's meetin'-houseup to the Pint, is got to be good enough for these messed-up citystreets; an' ye can't make no bricky-bracky outer me. "

To the boys he was a source of unmixed delight, both to our own youngbrothers, and to the two servant-lads; and no care for the eyes orcomments of the world troubled any one of them when he happened to beunder their escort. And little Daisy was equally independent, orperhaps too innocent to take any heed of such matters. 

A feverish, influenza cold confined both Allie and mammy to the housefor a day or two soon after the arrival of the Yorkes in the city, andDaisy was consequently obliged to be confided to the care of otherswhen she took her walks. 

She had been out driving one afternoon with mother and aunt Emily; andthey, having an engagement for "a tea, " to which they could not takeher, brought her home. At the foot of our front-steps stood CaptainYorke, complacently basking in the almost April sunshine, and amusinghimself by gazing up and down the street, and across the park, on whichour house fronted. It was an exceptionally beautiful day for the timeof year, soft, balmy, and springlike. 

"Ye won't git another like it to-morrer; two sich don't come togetherthis time o' year, " said the captain, as mother, greeting him, remarkedon the loveliness of the weather. "Ye kin look out for a gale to closeout the year with, I reckon. There's mischief brewin' over yonder, "pointing to where a bank of clouds lay low upon the southwesternhorizon. "Ye'd best take yer fill of bein' out doors to-day. "

"Yes, " said Daisy, pleadingly, "it's so nice and pleasant. Mamma, couldn't some of the servants take me out a little more? I don't wantto go in yet. "

"Leave her along of me, Mis' Livin'stone, " said the old man. "Me an'her'll take care of one another. "

Daisy beamed at the proposition; and mother had not the heart to refuseher, or the old sailor. 

"Well, " she said, "you may stay out a while with the captain; but onlyon condition that you both promise not to go far from the house, butremain either on the Square, or on this block. You see, captain, " shecontinued, "Daisy is too little to pilot you about, and you are toomuch of a stranger in the city to be a guide for her beyond theneighborhood of home. If you want to leave her, or she tires, just takeher to the door, and ring the bell for her. Or perhaps you will go inyourself, and see Allie and mammy. --They cannot go astray or get intoany trouble so near home, " she said to aunt Emily, when she had givenher orders, and the carriage moved on, leaving Daisy and the captainstanding side by side on the pavement, the little one with her tinyhand clasped in the toil-worn palm of the veteran. 

"Impossible!" said aunt Emily; "and the captain is as good as anynurse, you know. I would quite as soon trust her with him as withmammy. "

But aunt Emily, and mother too, had forgotten to take into account thecaptain's deficiency of a sense of the fitness of things, --at least, ofmatters appertaining to a city-life. 

He and Daisy rambled contentedly up and down the block, from one cornerto another, for some time, she prattling away to him, and enlighteninghis ignorance so far as she was able, until, at last, theyunfortunately touched upon Jim's affairs. 

"Let's go round an' buy some peanuts outer Jim's stand, " said thecaptain. "'Tain't far, ye know. "

"No, " answered obedient Daisy, "not far; but mamma said we mustn't goway from sight of our house, fear we would be lost, and we'd be wayfrom sight of it if we went to Jim's peanut-stand. But, Captain Yorke, Matty is cross wif Allie and me, 'cause she finks we're proud 'cause wedon't sell peanuts; and Douglas says I ought to sell peanuts, so she'llknow I'm not proud. Do you fink we could sell a few peanuts now? I knowwhere Jim keeps 'em. "

"Wal, I reckon ye kin sell peanuts, my pretty, if ye have 'em to sell, "answered the old man, seeing no reason why Daisy should not have herown way, and perhaps scenting a little diversion for himself in theproject; "but if ye can't go round to t'other street, how are ye goin'to get 'em?"

"Oh, Jim keeps 'em--his bags of peanuts--out in a pantry under ourback-stoop, " said Daisy; "and ev'y morning Tony comes for some to sell. We'll go in, and ask some of the servants to give us some, and thenwe'll sell 'em. "

If "some of the servants" had been found, this unprecedented plan wouldhave met with due interference; but it so happened, that they were allscattered at their various avocations in different parts of the house, and none were in the kitchen save old Mary Jane, to whom Daisy knewbetter than to appeal on behalf of any interests of Jim's. She was busygrinding coffee; and the noise of the mill prevented her from hearingthe footsteps of the invaders of her domain, who passed through thebasement-hall, and out of the back-door, where, although they found noone to help them, Daisy, to her great delight, discovered the key ofthe closet in the lock. To open the door, bid the captain take down anempty basket, which hung on a hook, and to fill this with peanuts froman open bag, was but the work of a few moments; the captain's hugehands scooping up the nuts in quantities, and soon accomplishing thetask. Then, arming themselves with a tin cup, which they also foundnear at hand, by way of a measure, the two conspirators once more stolepast the unconscious Mary Jane, and out into the street, the captainbearing the basket. 

[Illustration: "TWO RATHER UNUSUAL FIGURES TO BE ENGAGED IN SUCH AN OCCUPATION. "--_Page_ 145. ]

"Shall we sell 'em on our stoop?" asked Daisy, all this time quiteguiltless of any intention of wrong-doing. 

"I reckon ye'd best go down to the corner there, where the two streetscomes together, " answered the captain, pointing to where amuch-frequented cross-street intersected our avenue. "Them's myopinions, for I see lots more folks walkin' that way than this. "

Unfortunately, Daisy saw the force of his reasoning; and the twoinnocents had presently established themselves, quite to their ownsatisfaction, on this public corner. 

It was not long before they attracted sufficient attention, for theywere two rather unusual looking figures to be engaged in such anoccupation, to say nothing of the contrast between them; theweather-beaten, rugged, by no means handsome old sailor standing guard, as it were, over the daintily dressed little child with her beautiful, beaming face, and winning ways. 

Custom flowed in without delay, the captain not hesitating to hail thepassers-by, and to direct their attention to the tiny saleswoman beforehim; while she, with her sweet voice, pleading, "Please buy somepeanuts to help some poor children;" and her attractive air andappearance was irresistible. 

Fortunately for the pecuniary interests of the firm, or, rather, of thecapitalist whom they represented, Daisy knew from the boys the pricethat the peanuts should be; and the captain, who, spite of hissimplicity, had a keen eye to business, and who was accustomed topeddling about "the Point" during the summer season, constitutedhimself cash-taker, and saw that she received her dues. 

But public curiosity was naturally excited by the unusual situation, and presently both Daisy and Captain Yorke were besieged withquestions, which the latter resented as implying a distrust of hisability to care for the child. Truly, it might well be doubted. Butthis was no check upon custom, and the stock in the basket at Daisy'sfeet speedily dwindled down. The bottom had nearly been reached, when apoliceman sauntered by on the other side of the street; and, beingattracted by the gathering on the corner, --for those who came to buy, in many cases remained to admire, --he crossed over to ascertain thecause. Great was his astonishment, and small his approbation, when hediscovered the state of things; for he knew our children by sight, andcould not but be aware that such doings as these could not be with theapprobation of Daisy's family. 

"Why, that is--isn't that Mr. Livingstone's little girl?" he asked ofthe captain. 

The captain nodded; he was too busily engaged in keeping an eye on themoney Daisy received, to do more. 

"Well, if ever I saw a thing like this!" ejaculated the guardian of thepeace. "To see a little lady like that--my dear, do your pa and ma knowwhat you're a doing?"

"No, not yet, " answered Daisy; who looked with cordial eye upon allpolicemen, as being, according to her code, the defenders of the right, and avengers of the wrong. --"No, not yet; I'll tell them by and by, andthey'll be glad, 'cause they like me to do a kindness, and not speakabout it. "

"_Will_ they?" said the policeman, with a clearer insight into thefitness of things, than was possessed by Daisy or the old sailor. "Now, my little lady, you've got to go straight home; I know what your pa andma will say. You come right along home, like a good child. "

"Now, you let her alone, " interposed Captain Yorke. "'Tain't no casefor the law, 'sposin' her folks don't like it; an' I'll wager they do. "

"You old lunatic, " said the policeman, "what are you encouragin' of herfor? Who ever saw a little lady like that sellin' peanuts in thestreets! I ain't goin' to allow it nohow; it's drawin' a crowd; and, asto the law, she nor you ain't any right to be sellin' 'em here withouta license. --Come along home, little Miss. "

But here a new actor appeared upon the scene, and prevented any furtheropposition on the part of the captain. This was Jim, who was returningfrom an errand; and, seeing Captain Yorke's tall figure standing by thelamp-post with an unmistakably belligerent expression in every line, heelbowed his way through the fast increasing crowd, and stood astonishedand dismayed before Daisy. 

"Miss Daisy, whatever do you mean by this? You sellin' peanuts here inthe street!"

"Matty Blair does, " faltered Daisy, beginning, by virtue of all thesevarious protests, to see that perhaps she might have strayed from theway in which she should go. 

"Matty Blair!" ejaculated Jim, again. "Well, Miss Daisy, I guess MattyBlair's one, an' you're another. Won't your pa an' ma, an' all of 'em, be mad, though!"

"So I was sayin', " said the policeman, who was quite well acquaintedwith Jim; "and now, youngster, the best thing you can do is to take thelittle lady home, and tell her folks to look out for her better than toput her under the care of this old know-nothing. "

This entirely met Jim's views; and, snatching up the almost emptybasket, he seized the hand of the now frightened Daisy, and hurried herhomeward, leaving the policeman and the captain exchanging complimentsuntil such time as the latter saw fit to retire from the field, andhasten to our house to deliver up the results of poor Daisy's sale. 

It may be imagined what consternation reigned in the Livingstonehousehold, when this escapade of its youngest member came to light;while the grief and bewilderment of that little damsel herself, whohad, in all good faith, believed that she had mother's sanction for hercourse, were pitiable to witness. As for Jim, not even the gratifyingpecuniary results could nullify his mortification at the disgrace whichhe believed to have fallen upon the family, especially his beloved MissDaisy; and he found it hard to forgive the captain, who had encouragedand abetted her. 

"Philanthropy has certainly seized upon this family to an alarmingextent, " said Bessie Sandford, when she heard the story, "but I_wish_ that I had been there to see pet Daisy at her post actingpeanut-vender. "

How far Daisy's effort to prove to Matty that she "was not proud"affected that young cripple, could not be told; but she did not fail tohear of the thing from Jim. 

As for Captain Yorke, he received his full share of reprimand, andcaution for the future, from his wife, who, all unaccustomed as she, too, was to city ways, had far more natural sense of what was fittingand advisable. 

"If I could but go round with him to keep him up to the mark, Mrs. Livingstone, " she said, when apologizing to mother for the captain'sshare in the late escapade; "but, bless you, dear lady, he's more of achild than little Daisy herself, when he's out of his usual bearings. Ithink he's best off at home, with Jabez and Matildy Jane to look afterhim, when I can't. "

And she sighed heavily, as if the responsibility were too much for her. 

But the captain could not be brought to this view of the case. He wasenjoying himself in his own way among the city sights and sounds. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

NOT ON THE PROGRAMME. 

Uncle Rutherford stood at the far end of the great schoolroom, awaitingthe admission of his two candidates for its privileges andopportunities. It was the opening-day after the conclusion of theChristmas holidays; and half a dozen boys, besides Theodore Yorke andJim, had presented themselves as new scholars, and they now stoodbefore the principal, --Theodore at one end of the line, and Jim at theother. 

"What is your name?" asked the principal of Theodore; to which the boyresponded simply, "Theodore Yorke, " and then answered in like mannerthe few more questions put to him relative to age and so forth; and thegentleman passed down the line till he came to Jim. 

"What is your name?"

To uncle Rutherford's consternation, Jim, straightening himself up, answered in a loud, confident tone, "Jim, "--he had meant to say"James, " but the more familiar appellation escaped him, --"Jim GrantGarfield Rutherford Livingstone Washington;" and then glanced down theline as if to say, "Beat that if you can!"

A titter ran around the room, speedily checked by the stern eye of theprincipal, and one or two of the new boys giggled outright; but Jim, with head erect, and fearless eyes fixed upon the master, was unmoved, perhaps did not even guess that the merriment was caused by himself. 

The principal found it necessary to caress his whiskers a little, thensaid, --

"Good names, my boy, every one of them. Try to prove worthy to bearthem. Your age?"

This and the other needful preliminaries being settled, the new boyswere turned over to the examiners, to have their classes and positionin the school defined; and uncle Rutherford made his exit, only toothankful that the irrepressible Jim had not added to his list ofhigh-sounding appellations, "President that is to be of these UnitedStates. "

School discipline, of course, had, for the time, restrained the gibesand sneers, the open laugh, which would have greeted Jim's announcementof his adopted name or names; but the time was only deferred. The jokewas, to the schoolboy mind, too good to be lost; and when the recesscame, and the boys were for a while at liberty, Jim became the targetfor many sorry witticisms, and "Jim Grant Garfield RutherfordLivingstone Washington" was called from all sides of the playground inalmost as many tones of mockery as there were boys; and Jim speedilyfound that he had taken too much upon himself for his own comfort. The"Grant Garfield" had been an after-thought, and he had been promptedthereto by hearing another boy give his name--to which he was probablyjustly entitled--as "George William Winfield Scott Jones. " Jim was notgoing to be outdone, or to be satisfied with four names, when here wasa fellow with five; hence the "Grant Garfield" on the spur of themoment. 

Milly had feared that even the "Rutherford Livingstone Washington"would excite derisive comment; and when she heard uncle Rutherford'sreport of Jim's further adoption of great names, she groaned in spirit, and awaited with sundry apprehensions his return from school, fearingthat his excitable temper might have been provoked into somemanifestation, which would not only affect his creditable entrance intothe school, but also his standing with uncle Rutherford. 

But Jim had a check upon himself whereof Milly wot not; namely, that heknew of the prize to be secured in case he gained the approbation ofuncle Rutherford, --a prize which, as we know, he was more anxious towin for the sake of defeating Theodore Yorke than for the attainment ofthe scholarship itself. 

So, although he had to put a strong restraint upon himself, and wasinwardly boiling with wrath and indignation, he bore the gibes andsneers with the utmost self-command, and apparently unfailinggood-nature, till Theodore Yorke, who had made himself at home amonghis new surroundings as readily as Jim had done, joined in the"chaffing" with a vim and bitterness which could have their source onlyin a feeling of personal spite and hatred. 

"Jim Grant Garfield Rutherford Livingstone Washington, " he repeated;"and he hasn't a right to _one_ of the names, unless it's Jim. Hehasn't got any name; nobody knows what his name is, or who he is, orwhere he came from. He hasn't got any folks, either. "

This was wounding poor Jim in the tenderest point, as the amiableTheodore well knew; and it was more than his victim could well stand. 

"And I'd rather have no folks at all than have such as yours, " heshouted, almost beside himself with rage at this exposure of that whichhe considered to be his disgrace. Then suddenly recalled to a sense ofhis regard for this boy's grandparents, Captain and Mrs. Yorke, and ofall the kindness he had received from them, --for a hearty gratitude forfavors received was one of the strongest features of Jim'scharacter, --he hastened to set matters in their true light; "at least, such a father as they tell yours was. If I had a gran'father orgran'mother like yours, there couldn't be none better; but if I had afather was such a scallywag as yours, I say a good sight better havenone. And you ain't a bit like the old folks, neither; you're anothersuch a one as your father. _I_ wouldn't own such a one!"

This tirade was interspersed with other expressions more forcible thanchoice, and which are better omitted; and, as may be supposed, it didnot tend to mend matters. Recrimination followed recrimination; insultsfrom one to another went from bad to worse, Theodore being even more ofan adept in such language than Jim, who had always been considered aproficient; and one of the teachers came upon the playground just intime to see Jim deal a furious blow at his opponent, who caught sightof the master before he had returned it, which he would otherwisedoubtless have done; and who immediately assumed an air of innocent, injured virtue, too lofty-minded and forgiving to return the blow. 

As the rules against fighting within school bounds were particularlysevere, Jim's was a heinous offence. He was sternly called to order andreprimanded with severity; and although, in consideration of his beinga new boy, he was let off with this, he began his school careersomewhat under a cloud; while Theodore posed as a martyr, and a boywith a regard for school discipline, --to his teachers, --but the otherboys knew better, and with few exceptions espoused Jim's cause, and atonce pronounced Theodore the "sneak" and "bully" that he was. But thatwas small comfort to Jim, who, on coming home, had to report, as hetruthfully did, that he had failed to keep his temper on this the veryfirst day of his entrance into the school. 

Milly consoled and encouraged him as best she might, bidding him totake heart and to struggle even harder for the future, and being verysparing of blame for his share in the quarrel. 

Fate, as short-sighted and with as dull an eye to expediency as uncleRutherford, had decreed not only that the two boys, Jim and Theodore, should be in the same school, but, their attainments being of about thesame range, that they should be put into the same class, an arrangementwhich did not tend to the maintenance of the peace so much to bedesired. 

But, in spite of his unlucky beginning, Jim speedily became a favoritein the school, both with masters and schoolmates. His frank, merryways, obliging disposition, ready wit, and quickness at repartee, soongained him a host of friends on the playground; while his evidentdesire to make progress in his studies, --wherein he had a stimulusunsuspected by any one but Bill, --his sturdy truthfulness, and generalobedience to rules and regulations, won him golden opinions from thosein authority. Ambition, whether for greater or lesser aims, was Jim'sruling passion, and now he had so many spurs to urge him on; for, addedto his own personal aspirations and the determination to prove himselfa credit to his benefactors, was the overwhelming desire to outstripTheodore, and wrest from him the prize. 

Milly noticed, whenever he reported progress to her, that there was acertain sort of repressed excitability about him, a wistful nervousnessvery foreign to his assured independence and self-confidence, and heseveral times seemed as if he were going to make some disclosure toher; all of which made his young mistress think that he had somethingon his mind which he was half inclined to impart to her, although hecould not quite resolve to do so. She bided her time, however, beingsure that it would come sooner or later, and only now and then tried toopen the way by asking him if he had any thing further to tell her. 

But the only result of this would be a shame-faced embarrassment and asheepish denial, followed by an evident desire to cut short theinterview. 

When Jim had been at school about a month, making, according to thereports of his teachers, who were closely questioned by uncleRutherford, fair progress with his studies, and showing a self-commandand control over his temper which had not been expected from him afterthe fiery outburst of the first day, an incident occurred which wouldhave afforded him an opportunity for mortifying Theodore, had he notbeen restrained by a motive which was stronger than his antagonism tohis rival. 

The vagaries and peculiarities of Captain Yorke, with his ignorance andindifference to city ways and manners, had more than once drawn publicnotice upon him; the episode of Daisy as a peanut-vender, with the oldsailor as her aider and abetter, being but a trifling circumstancecompared to some others; and Mrs. Yorke was in constant terror lest heshould in some way make himself more notorious than would proveagreeable. 

About this time, a celebrated actor was performing in the city in thefarce of "Dundreary Married, " wherein Lord Dundreary having, as thetitle indicates, taken to himself a wife, falls beneath the tyranny ofa domineering mother-in-law, to whom he submits till submission becomesintolerable, when he turns upon her, asserts himself, and proclaimshimself master in his own house. 

Our boys, Norman and Douglas, having seen the farce in company with therest of the family, and having been greatly amused by it, conceived theidea of treating the captain to a sight of the same; and, havingobtained father's permission to do so, they invited the old man to anevening's entertainment. 

"Wa'al, " he drawled with his usual deliberation when considering anymatter, "I don' care if I do. When I was a youngster, I was brung up tothink play-actin' was a sin, an' I'd about as soon a thought of shakin'han's with the evil one hisself, as of goin' to the theayter; buteither I've gotten wiser as I've gotten older, or else maybe theplay-actin' folks has gotten better behaved; but times is changedsomehow, an' I seen some play-actin' in the hotel down to the P'int, an' they was real ladies an' gentlemen did it, too. I was a peepin' inat the winders more'n once; an' the hotel-keepers, Mr. Loydd an' Mr. Field, if they didn't come, one one time, an' t'other another, an'bring me into the hall an' near to the doors where I could seefust-rate. An' I didn't see no harm onto it. The play-actors was verypretty behaved, an' I didn't see no breakin' of comman'ments. I nevercould see what folks wanted to purtend they was other folks for, andsometimes to go a-talkin' as if they was come out of by-gone days. Butif you're for takin' me to the theayter, I reckon I won't come to noharm by it. Enyhow, I know ye've got to come to city ways when ye're tothe city; folks kinder look daggers at ye ef ye don't. There's thelandlady to the house where me and Mis' Yorke puts up; she's the best, an allers doin' for Mis' Yorke, an' come an' sit with her an' talk--mytalk by the hour she will, straight on, like as she'd been woun' up;an' she come yesterday, all kin' of fussy like, an' her face red, an'she says, says she, 'Captain Yorke, ' says she, 'ef ye wouldn't mind measkin' a little favor of ye?'"

"'Sartinly not, ma'am, ' says I; an' I was reckonin' she was wantin' toborrer money. But what do ye s'pose it was, Norman? She goes and shesays, says she, kinder hesitatin' like yet, 'Would ye mind, capt'in, a-eatin' with yer fork, 'stead of yer knife? Miss Jarvis, what sitsnext ye at the table, she's kinder narvous, an' she says it sets herteeth on edge, an' she says she can't stan' it; an' she's my bestpayin' boarder, bein' she has the second-story front an' back; an' itwould obleege me, ef ye don't min'. '

"'Jes' as lief eat off ten forks, ma'am, ' says I, 'ef it suits ye an'Mis' Jarvis. I been a-noticin' she was kinder pernikity like an' fussy, an' kinder offish with me; but if it's the difference of knives orforks, the best payin' boarder ain't goin' to be hurt by me. ' But, boys! I didn't know by a long shot what I was a-promisin'. I tell ye, the knife would keep goin' up the nateral way as it was used to; an'yesterday I didn't get no kind of a dinner, nor a breakfast thismornin', thinkin' of that pesky fork. So to-day I was boun' I'd get mydinner; so I cuts it up an' spoon-victuals it, for fear of hurtin' thefeelin's of the best payin' boarder. City ways is uncommon troublesome, when ye ain't let eat the way is most handy. But I don't care if I goto the theayter with ye. I never see the inside of one of them places. "

"Oh, a real theatre is nothing like the dining-rooms of the hotels, where you saw the amateur theatricals, " said the posted Norman; "andfather wouldn't let us go if it were any harm. He said we could takeyou, captain. "

"No; an' I reckon the governor wouldn't be for goin' to no place heshouldn't go, " said the captain reflectively. "An' he was along of yout'other night, wasn't he?"

Norman and Douglas, anxious to overcome any scruples the old man mighthave, assured him that uncle Rutherford went quite often to the"theayter, " and thus quieted any remaining qualms of conscience whichhe might have; for Captain Yorke pinned his faith on uncle Rutherford, and all that the governor did was right in his eyes. So the expeditionto the theatre was arranged to the satisfaction of my brothers, whoanticipated much amusement in watching the impression the play wouldmake upon the unsophisticated old veteran. 

But a shock was in store for them which they had not foreseen; for theamount of observation which the captain saw fit to draw upon the partywas almost too much for even their well-seasoned boyish nerves. 

For the sake of obtaining an uninterrupted view of the stage, the boyshad secured seats which the event proved to be too conspicuous fortheir comfort. No sooner were they all seated than the captain beganwith his comments and criticisms, his "them's my opinions, " in a mannerand tone which they vainly strove to moderate. Fortunately they were inthe main complimentary and approving; and the old seaman's quaintappearance, his evidently childlike ignorance and inexperience, diverted those of the audience who were within hearing, and led them tobe indulgent to his rather obtrusive reflections upon men and things. 

"Wal, " he said, gazing around and above him, up at the lofty frescoedceiling, the sparkling crystal chandelier, the rich curtains, and otheradornments of the house, --"wal, it does beat all! It goes ahead of anymeetin'-house I ever see; an', I say, 'tain't fair on the Almighty tobe makin' a better place for to be pleasurin' in, than what we makesfor him to be praised in. Yes, sir; an' them's my opinions, an' Istands by 'em. What's them folks up in them little cubby-holes fur?"pointing to the boxes. "Oh, " as Douglas explained, "they's high an'mighty, be they? can't set along of the multitude? Wal, every man, an'woman too, to her own likin'; I'd as lief be here. Seems kinderconspicuous like, settin' up thar, an' whiles I ain't ashamed to showmy face afore no man, I don't hanker after settin' up to be stared at. "

Happily the occupants of the boxes were beyond the reach of his voice, or at least of the tenor of his remarks; but the boys were ontenterhooks lest their garrulous companion should give offence. Butfrom the moment that the curtain went up, and the mimic scene presenteditself to his gaze, he sat spell-bound and silent, perfectly absorbedin the vivid portrayal of the chief character in the drama. 

The great actor appeared first in the rôle of a celebrated man of hisown profession, an actor of bygone days, whose name will always befamous; and from the moment that he stepped upon the stage, it was allreality to Captain Yorke. There was no "pretendin' he was other folks, "to him, as it had been when he had witnessed the amateur theatricalsand tableaux at the Point; and with a hand upon either knee, he leanedeagerly forward, his eyes fixed upon the scene before him, andabsolutely speechless in his breathless interest. But when the curtaincame down after the first act, he broke forth again to the edificationand delight of those within hearing. Ladies listened and smiled at thesimple-hearted old man; and gentlemen, who were near enough, encouragedhim to ramble on, evidently considering him a novel species ofentertainment, second only to that which was passing upon the stage. Hewas a character as good as any there. 

Norman, enchanted with the sensation his charge was making, would putno check upon him; but the more shrinking Douglas was not so wellpleased. Still, seeing that no offence was given, but rather thecontrary, he possessed his soul in patience, devoutly wishing, however, that it was time for the close of the performance, which, under thesecircumstances, afforded him no pleasure. And as the captain'sexcitement grew with each succeeding act, and the encouragement ofthose about him, and he grew more and more superior to considerationsof time and place, Douglas would fain have quitted his seat and thetheatre; and was only restrained from doing so, because he thought itwould be mean to leave Norman in the lurch. 

At length came the farce "Dundreary Married;" and the captain, who, itafterwards appeared, had in former years suffered divers things at thehand of an obnoxious mother-in-law, grew more excited than ever, andbecame furiously indignant, not only at the all-assuming lady, but alsoat the supine Dundreary, who allowed himself to be thus imposed upon. He grumbled and muttered, and really seemed as if he would make for thestage, as he said, "to give the old creetur a piece of his mind. " EvenNorman was now uneasy lest he should make more demonstration than wasmeet, while Douglas did his best to induce both his companions to comeout; but the captain was immovable, and not to be persuaded. Indeed, hescarcely seemed to heed Douglas's arguments, so intent was he on thefortunes of the persecuted husband. His delight when that hero showedsymptoms of some spirit was unbounded; and when at last he rousedhimself altogether from the _laisser aller_ which had suffered so longand patiently, and fairly bade the lady leave his house and his wife tohis own authority and protection, the old man sprang to his feet, and, waving his hat in the air, exclaimed in a voice which rang instentorian tones through the house, --

"Pitch into her, my lad! Give it to her! That's right. Pitch into themother-in-law!"

The effect, as may be imagined, was electric. There was a moment'spause, then a laugh; then, as Norman and Douglas fairly dragged andhustled the captain into his seat, the inimitable actor bowed and wavedhis hand to the old man, who had, as it were, paid such an involuntarytribute to his powers; and the next moment a storm of applause brokeforth, in compliment to both, it would appear, --to the gratified actor, who had thrown his spell over the guileless old sailor to such anextent as to render him insensible to aught else, and to the innocentspectator who had been thus impressed by his matchless impersonations. As the performance came to a close, and the audience were leaving thehouse, the captain the centre of all eyes around him, an usher made hisway to him, bearing a request from the star that he would step behindthe scenes and shake hands with him. 

Nothing loath, the captain readily consented, inviting the boys to gowith him; but this Douglas, much disturbed by the notoriety of theevening, flatly refused, while bold Norman, who had no fear of manbefore his eyes, agreed to accompany him. Indeed, it was not safe tolose sight of him; there was no knowing of what vagaries the captainmight be guilty if he were left entirely to his own devices. Normanfelt that he was capable of any thing, and that he must keep a securehold upon him. Moreover, the old man was not at all familiar with thecity streets, and he must be guided safely to his boarding-house. 

When they arrived behind the scenes, the great actor shook handsheartily with the old seaman, thanking him for the tribute which he hadpaid him. But here the captain's enthusiasm fell flat. Meeting theobject of his sympathy face to face, and as man to man, and findingthat the interesting scenes he had just witnessed were but aninimitable mimicry, was a great disappointment; and he seemed to feelwronged and defrauded in some way. 

"There warn't nothin' real about it, " he said indignantly and in a hurttone to the boys, as they took their way homeward. "There warn'tnothin' true at all. There bean't no mother-in-law, nor wife, nornothin'; there warn't even any chap with the long whiskers, for itwarn't hisself at all, though he said it was--that t'other one shookhan's with me, and said I'd give him a big compliment. 'Twas allpurtendin' an' makin' b'lieve. It's a shame an' a sin for to go makin'out so life-like ye are what ye ain't, an' takin' folks in so. It'skinder cheatin' play, _I_ think; an' Mis' Yorke, she wurn't jes' soeasy in her min' 'bout me goin' to the theayter, an' I reckon I've cometo her way of thinkin'; an' thank ye kindly, boys, but there'll be nomore theayter-goin' fur me. The Scriptur says, 'A fool an' his money issoon parted, ' an'--meanin' no ungratefulness to you, boys--I've faithto b'lieve it; for it's not good manners, neither good deeds, to makeout that way, an' take folks in. An' them's my opinions, an' I'll stan'by 'em!"

The last thing the boys heard, as the door of his temporary home closedupon him, was, "No more theayters for me; they're clean agin'Scriptur. "

This, of course, was great fun for our frolicsome Norman, always readyfor a joke or a good story; and although Douglas had not takenunalloyed pleasure in the events of the evening, he, too, could see thedroll side of them now that they were over. They were rehearsed withgreat glee at the breakfast-table the next morning; and it occurred tome that here, if he chose to use it, was the opportunity for Jim torevenge himself for some of the sneers cast upon him by Theodore Yorke. I was wicked enough, however, not to suggest the idea to any one else, lest a word of warning or counsel should restrain him; and in thesequel Jim proved himself far the better Christian of the two, in spiteof the superior advantages which had always been mine. 

This happened to be Friday, when he brought home from school his weeklyreport, which he always took at once to Milly. The record for this weekproved an unusually favorable one; but he had more to add to this. 

"Miss Milly, " he said, after she had expressed her pleasure at theprogress he was making and at his standing in "conduct, "--"Miss Milly, I was real forgivin' an' like livin' up to the mark you sot us fordoin' unto others, in school to-day. But it does come awful hard, whenyou get the chance to pay off a feller, to let it slip; an' I don'tknow as I could have done it if it hadn't been for thinkin' of the oldcaptain himself, an' how good he'd been to me, an' that I wouldn't liketo go back on _him_. "

Light flashed upon Milly. The boy had been tempted to make use of theoccurrences of the preceding evening to revenge himself upon TheodoreYorke for his previous slights and insults; and had refrained, chieflyfrom loyalty to his old friend, it is true, but, perhaps, partlyprompted by the wish to do right. 

It had so happened, that two boys in the class had been at the theatrealso, and had been witnesses of the captain's antics, but withoutknowing who he was, or of his connection with Theodore. In recess theytold the story, doubtless with more or less of exaggeration, of the oldcountryman who had made himself so conspicuous and--according to theirshowing--so ridiculous at last night's entertainment. 

Of course Jim at once recognized the hero of the tale; but not soTheodore, his grandfather having, for a wonder, preserved a discreetsilence on the subject, being totally unaware that he had exhibitedhimself in an unusual way on the occasion. Perhaps the poor captain hadfelt a little mortified that he had been so carried away by that whichwas, after all, "on'y pretendin', " and did not care to rehearse hisexperience. 

However that may be, Theodore had heard nothing of it, and laughed andjeered with the other boys at the more than graphic relation of his twoschoolmates. 

Strong was the temptation to Jim to expose him, and to draw upon hisenemy the laugh which must follow; but, to his credit be it said, herefrained, except in so far as to give him a knowing look whichconveyed to that amiable youth the conviction that it was no other thanhis grandfather who was furnishing food for merriment to half theschool, and that Jim was aware of it and held this rod over him. Theknowledge that this was so was not calculated to soften Theodore'sanimosity toward Jim. Disposed as he was to raise a laugh or a sneer atthe expense of another, he could not endure them himself; and to feelthat he was thus in the power of the boy whom he hated, was intolerableto him. From this time, however, it gave him a wholesome awe of Jim, and proved a check upon him; and "Jim Grant Garfield RutherfordLivingstone Washington" rang less often over the playground, now thathe ceased to lead in the cry upon the claimant of so many names. 

CHAPTER IX. 

MATTY. 

"Amy, what are you pondering?"

"Men and things in general and their iniquities in particular; my ownnot being included, they being nothing worth speaking of, " I answered, rather evasively, not being disposed at present to make public thenature of my cogitations, which really had to do with my ownshortcomings. 

"We will pass over the modesty of the remark, " said Bessie Sanford, "but we insist upon knowing--do we not, Milly?--the tenor of themeditations which have actually kept you quiet for--let me see--I thinkit must be full two minutes by the clock. "

"That inquisitive spirit of yours needs repression, Elizabeth, " I said:"therefore I shall not yield to your demands. "

"Then bid farewell to peace, " was the rejoinder. And knowing ElizabethSanford well, I meditated a precipitate flight; but she divined myintention, and, seizing upon me, held me prisoner, and made good herthreat until I succumbed, first freeing my mind of my opinion as to theconduct of my captor. 

"Never mind. We will leave the results of that case to the future, " shesaid; "the present question has only to do with yourself, and theunburdening of your secrets. Your inward communings are of such rareoccurrence, that when you do indulge in them, your friends are entitledto benefit by them. --Is it not so, Milly?"

"Reap what benefit you may, then, " I answered. "I was thinking how Iwas going to waste. "

"H'm'm, " said Bessie, releasing her grasp upon my shoulders, and gazingwith an air of deep meditation out of the window near which we sat. "Fred Winston would doubtless feel complimented by that sageconclusion; but if you feel so decidedly that you are throwing yourselfaway, it is not yet too late for you to draw back, and----"

"Your remarks are too frivolous to bear the consideration of awell-balanced mind, Elizabeth, " I interrupted, "and therefore I declineto notice them further than to say that you are entirely wide of themark. Perhaps I did not express myself in language as choice as I mighthave used; but what I meant to say was--to quote the copy-books--that'opportunities imply obligations, ' and that, while my opportunities aremany, the obligations arising therefrom have _not_ been fulfilled. "

I had spoken jokingly, almost mockingly, nevertheless I really meantwhat I said; but any thing like a sober reflection or solemn view oflife's duties was so new from me, that for a moment my sister andfriend were struck dumb with astonishment. 

Then Bessie gave vent to a smothered groan. 

"Listen to the words of wisdom!" she ejaculated. "The depth of her! Andwhence and since when, may I inquire, arises thus suddenly so solemn aview of your responsibilities? They are not wont to weigh upon yourmind. "

"That is just it, " I said. "I am in earnest, not in joke, whatever youmay think. It has, rather suddenly I allow, dawned upon me, that I am aperfectly useless member of society; or rather, the conviction has beenforced upon me by the words of Allie, whom I overheard informing Daisythat I was very nice and lovely, but the _uselessest_ person in thehouse. Loyal Daisy was indignant, and questioned the justice of theremark; but it opened up a field of reflection to me, and I am obligedto admit its truth. Since I left school last spring, what have I donebut amuse myself, and attend readings and lectures, which amounts tothe same thing, as the motive is purely selfish?"

"You have made 'food for the gods, '" said Bessie demurely. 

I turned upon her. 

"For that remark you shall have cause to regret that you ever wereborn, " I retorted, "and I would not have believed it of you, Bessie. But seriously, girls, I am longing for an object in life on which I canexpend some of the capabilities of which I feel myself possessed. "

"I thought you had been supplied with one since the 15th of lastNovember, " said Bessie, "but----"

"Will you leave that subject out of the question?" I again interrupted. "If not, there will be trouble between the houses of Sanford andLivingstone. "

"Why can't you two be what Daisy calls 'common-sensible, ' and tell whatis at the bottom of all this?" said Milly, joining for the first timein the conversation. 

"I am sure that I am showing an unusual amount of common-sense, " Irejoined, "for I have in all seriousness just awakened to a sense of myshortcomings towards humanity in general, and am longing for an objecton which to expend my superfluous energies. You, Milly, have yourcharges, Bill and Jim, whom you have rescued from lives of shame andcrime, and who are standing monuments of the efficacy of your zeal, self-sacrifice, and good sense in their behalf (no, you need notcourtesy); and Bessie has her old ladies to whom she so religiouslydevotes one afternoon in every week, no matter what temptations assailher in other directions, and who simply adore her, and for whom shedoes many a little kind office at divers other times. But who, outsideof our family, to whose happiness I add, of course, because I am theirown Amy; and--and Fred; yes, and you, dear Bessie, " as a soft littlereminding hand was laid upon my arm, --"who except these is any thebetter or happier for my existence?"

"Lots of friends and relations, you foolish child, " said Bessie, whileMilly dropped a re-assuring kiss upon my forehead. "What nonsense, Amy!I do not know any one who is a more general favorite. "

"Well, allowing that it is so, " I said, "is it not only because I ammerry and full of life, and make things a little cheerful around me?Point to one thing useful or of real lasting benefit that I have everdone, and I will thank you. I have loved Aunt Emily's hospital cottageby the sea, for her sake and for dear little Amy's, and have worked alittle for that; but it has been a real pleasure and enjoyment to me, and has never involved one moment's self-sacrifice. "

Modesty will not allow me to put down here all that Milly and Bessie intheir partial affection said to persuade me that I was not altogether auseless member of society at large. Delightful as it was to hear, itdid not succeed in quieting my newly awakened conscience or sense ofresponsibility; and perhaps Milly on her part did not intend that itshould do so. 

"She evidently must be furnished with an _object_, " said Bessie;"nothing else will satisfy her; and as she seems to have something ofthe feeling of the monks and nuns of old, that the more disagreeablethe duty the greater the credit, let us satisfy her by finding her amost unpleasant one. Oh, charming! I have thought of just thething. --Why not adopt as your particular charge, Amy, that mostunattractive young cripple, Matty Blair? She will probably satisfy allyour longings for self-sacrifice, in a way which can leave nothing tobe desired. "

"The very thing, " I answered, delighted to have found so soon an"object" on which to expend the benevolent yearnings with which I hadbeen seized, --not so suddenly as Milly and Bessie believed; for, forsome time past, I had had a secret and rather unwelcome consciousnessthat I was not doing my share toward mitigating the general load ofhuman misery and ignorance, --a consciousness which Allie's words hadonly quickened into more active life. "But, girls, I assure you that Iam not at all moved by the ascetic notion of taking up the mostdisagreeable work I can find, as a penance for former shortcomings. Iwish from my heart that Matty Blair was pretty and straight and sweet, a typical little story-book pauper, whom it would be a pleasure tobefriend, and who would respond amicably to my advances. Matty, fromwhat I know of her, will be far from being all that; nevertheless Ishall take her up, and see what can be done for her. "

"Consult mother first, dear, " said Milly. "She may see objections: theysay that Matty's parents are dreadful people, and they may choose tomake trouble for you. There are cases, you know, where people expectyou to _pay_ for being allowed to confer benefits upon them. "

"I wish that we could remove the child, or both the children, entirelyfrom the father and mother, " I said. 

"They will never allow that while the poor little things continue to beprofitable to them, " said Milly. 

"You have taken up something of a task, truly, " said Bessie. "First youwill have those wretched parents to win over, and then thatunattractive little creature. And, Amy, although I would not wish tothrow cold water upon your enthusiasm, I feel sure that your father andmother will never let you go to such a place as the home of the childmust be. Milly's mission came to her, as it were, heaven-sent, it seemsto me, " she added in a reverent tone; "but you must seek this out to doMatty any good, and face those dreadful relations of hers. Your fatherand mother will never listen to it, and they will be right. Do not tryto run a tilt against windmills, dear. "

"No, neither will I make mountains out of mole-hills, " I answeredlightly, although I did feel the force, yes, and the truth too, ofBessie's reasoning, and had my own doubts; "and certainly I shall nothave more unpromising material to deal with than Milly had when sheundertook to bring up her charges in the way they should go. Moreover, I shall not attempt to beard the lions in their den; but I suppose Ihave to win my way into Matty's affections or confidence, or whateverit may be that proves assailable, and if I find any way to help her, Ishall ask cousin Serena to go into partnership with me. She will beprotection enough anywhere, for no one could think of troubling orannoying her in any way. "

"Well, I'm not so sure of that, either, " said Bessie; "but I'm notgoing to discourage you further, and time will show. But how do youmean to set to work, Amy?"

"I do not know yet; how can I?" I answered. "I have only just thoughtof this, and of course I have not had time to make any plans or tothink of what I shall do. I shall firstly go this very afternoon tocousin Serena; and if she thinks me, as she doubtless will, a prodigyof benevolence, self-sacrifice, and generosity, and agrees to all I askof her, I shall attack father and mother to-night. I mean to act whilethe frenzy is on me, lest my ardor cool, and I see the many lions inthe way which you bad girls are trying to conjure up. "

Knowing myself in this respect pretty well, I was really afraid that ifI gave myself too much time for consideration of my new scheme, I mightbecome appalled by the difficulty and disagreeableness which wereprophesied; and I was determined to place myself in a positionwhere--unless a higher authority interfered--I could not in pride orconscience draw back. 

Milly had taken almost no part in the little discussion between Bessieand me, generally speaking only when she was appealed to; and I knew bythis that she did not altogether approve. But I was a littleself-willed, a state of mind not altogether of rare occurrence with me, I am afraid; and I chose to ignore the disapprobation which was impliedby this silence, and asked her no questions. 

And now for cousin Serena, to whom I bent my steps at once, accompaniedby Bessie, who volunteered to go with me; though, to tell the truth, Icould have dispensed with her society for this occasion, being afraidof the discouraging objections and criticisms she might raise. But sheventured none; on the contrary, she seemed rather inclined to aid andabet me when I broached the subject to cousin Serena, in whom I was notdisappointed. She proved herself--the blessed soul--the most willingco-adjutor, even more so than I desired; for, running to a closet whereshe kept a bountiful provision of such articles, she began to bringforth flannel, calico, and stout muslin suitable to make clothes forpoor people; whereupon my spirit shrank appalled, for, if there was oneoccupation which I hated more than another, it was plain sewing, especially upon coarse material. 

"O cousin Serena!" I said, "I am not going to sew and make clothes forMatty. It is so much easier and more convenient to buy themready-made. "

This speech, I was sorry to see, damped cousin Serena's ardor; for thisworking by proxy, as it were, did not at all coincide with herold-fashioned notions; and "ready-made garments" were to her a delusionand a snare, giving opportunity to Satan to find mischief for idlehands to do. I hated to disappoint her when she was so enthusiasticallypreparing to cut put work for both Bessie and me; but I hated stillmore to sew, and held my ground, being borne out by Bessie, who was notany more partial to such work than I was. Cousin Serena shook her head, and sighed over the degeneracy of the age which could content itselfwith other than such exquisite "hand-sewing" as she did herself. 

Having gained my point, and made her promise all that I wished, Iinsisted that she should go home with us to dinner, taking the littlebower of Dutch Johnny, the florist, by the way for a glimpse of Matty. Cousin Serena had never seen her; but I was not afraid to have her doso, unpromising object for one's charitable sympathies though shecertainly was, for, the more helpless and repulsive-looking, the morewould cousin Serena's tender heart warm toward her. 

Our errand to Johnny's was nominally to purchase flowers, and, ofcourse, we did invest therein, and came out bearing some of hischoicest blossoms; but cousin Serena made use of the opportunity totake a close observation of Matty as she sat at her little peanut-standin the corner, sullen and lowering, the picture of discontent andmisery, as usual. 

But cousin Serena did more than this; for, with the tact which shealways showed in dealing with people of this class, she succeeded inarousing a slight feeling of interest in the sullen, disagreeablelittle cripple. 

The one gift which had been granted to Matty was a profusion ofbeautiful hair, which, however, was never seen to perfection, as it wasalways braided tightly and wound in a close coil about her head, givingto the wizened, shrunken face an even older look than was natural toit. If she had any pride in any thing, it must have been in thishair, --indeed, she had little else to be proud of, --for it was alwaysfairly tidy. Johnny, it seemed, always exacted a certain amount ofcleanliness and decency as the price of her admission into his shop;not, perhaps, that he had any inherent love for this virtue, as such, or that his own comfort and happiness depended upon them, but becausehe feared that his trade might be injured if his customers found theresuch a dirty, ragged little object as Matty had formerly been. Cleanhands and faces, well-brushed hair, and as much patching of raggedclothes as the neglected, worse than motherless creatures couldcompass, were required from Matty and Tony. His good-natured wifesometimes befriended them in this way, and put in a few stitches forthem; the result being profitable in more ways than one. It was she, and not the miserable, intemperate mother, who plaited Matty's glossylocks in the heavy braid which she then wound round her head. 

Cousin Serena went up to the peanut-stand, invested in Matty's wares, the child serving her in the dull, mechanical way usual with her, andsmiled kindly down at her, eliciting, however, no response. 

"What pretty hair you have, Matty!" was Miss Craven's next advance;and, as she spoke, she lightly touched with her gloved finger theshining coil which many a society belle might have envied. 

A gleam lighted up the dull, heavy eyes, and Matty raised them to thedear old lady's face. 

"It is almost a pity to wear it so closely bound up, " continued cousinSerena; while Bessie and I, apparently making an inspection of Johnny'sstock while he was engaged with another customer, lent attentive earsto what passed, I feeling rather that my intended mission work had beentaken up by other hands; "it would show so nicely if you wore it looseand flowing as most little girls do now. I would like to see it when itis down. "

With a motion marvellously quick in one so crippled, the child raisedher hands, unbound the coil from about her head, and drawing herfingers through the plait, let the rippling, waving masses fall flowingover her poor, twisted, mis-shapen shoulders. 

"Amy and Bessie, " said cousin Serena, pursuing her advantage of playingupon the only vanity in poor Matty's nature, "Amy and Bessie, come hereand see what beautiful hair this child has. It is a good deal likeyours, Amy, both in color and quantity. "

With another sudden motion, Matty drew the shining waves in front ofher, glanced at them lovingly, and then raising her eyes to me with thefirst appearance of any thing like interest in them which I had everseen, scanned my locks, and said with something of malicious triumph inher tone and look, --

"It's prettier nor her'n. "

"So it is, Matty, " I said, ignoring what Daisy would have called the"discompliment" to myself, and determined to strike while the iron washot, or at least approaching an unusual degree of warmth, --"so it is;you have the very prettiest hair I ever saw. "

Matty did not smile, --I never but once saw the light of a smile on herface, --but she gave a low chuckle. Evidently we had touched a chordthat would respond; an ignoble one it might be, but it was something tohave gained even this. 

Having dismissed his customer, Johnny now came to the front. 

"'Tis goot, " he said, pointing to the beautiful locks; "'tis goot. Minewife she say 'tis pest cut off dat head; bud Maddy she so moosh lofedat head, an' 'tis so goot, I say, leaf her keep her head. So minewife, she say, 'yes, 'tis too pad to cut dat nice head, ' an' she leafsit on her, an' mine wife she comb an' prush it for Maddy. But I tellsMaddy she shall sell dat head for so moosh as fife tollars if sheschuse. "

"Don't ye be after tellin' me mother that, " said Matty, with a suddenlook of angry alarm, which was really pathetic, as one gathered from itthat the child felt she would no longer be allowed to keep her onecherished possession, if any idea of its pecuniary value were suggestedto her mother. 

"Nein, nein, " answered Johnny, shaking his head and speaking withemphasis, as if to say that this was a secret he would carefully guardfrom the unnatural parent. "Nein, nein, " he repeated. "If I tells datmutter any tings, 'tis as dat head is so pad as is not vort notings. "

"But you would not say what is not true, even to save Matty's hair, would you?" said Miss Craven, unable to allow this more than doubtfulmorality to pass. 

Again Johnny wagged his head, this time as one quite convinced that hewas in the right, and answered: "If I tells shust one nice, leetle pitof a lie" (Johnny did not mince matters, even to his own conscience), "'tis for to keep away a great pig wrong; for if I tells dat mutter deshild's head is vort so moosh, she put dat head in de scissors de negstminit. "

The kindly old Dutchman was plainly convinced that the end justifiedthe means, and cousin Serena felt that any further discussion of thequestion was useless, and that it would not tend to improve Matty'smoral views or those of her brother Tony, who had just come in, as bothwere sure to side with their friend and benefactor. 

"We will hope that no one will ever touch Matty's pretty hair, " shesaid; and I, seized with a sudden inspiration, and still appealing toMatty's vanity, said, --

"I would like to see Matty's hair flowing over a dark-blue dress. Howit would set it off! Would you like a blue dress, Matty? Your hair willlook so pretty over it if you wear it down. "

Matty looked rather askance at me. She evidently regarded me as a rivalin the matter of hair, and was not inclined to accept any advances onmy part; but friendly, jolly little Tony answered for her; while shehesitated, evidently meditating some ungracious answer. 

"Oh, wouldn't she though, miss! I guess she would like it, an' her hairwould look awful pooty on it, an' when we goes to the Sunday-schoolfestival, --when it's Easter, ye know, --Matty'll wear the blue dress, an' her hair down on it, an' she'll look as good as any of the girlsthere, an' better, 'cause there isn't one of 'em has hair likeMatty's. --An' I'll tell ye, Matty, if the lady, --she's one of Jim'syoung ladies, --if she gives ye the blue dress, we'll keep it to Mrs. Petersen's if she'll let us, so ma can't get it for the drink. --Are yegoin' to give it to her, miss?"

"Indeed I am, " I answered to the eager question. "Come now, Matty, stand up, and we'll measure you for the dress. Perhaps I can find oneready-made, and you shall have it to-morrow. --Johnny, can you lend me ayard-measure?"

Johnny produced one; and Matty, still half doubtful whether or no to begracious, and eying me with a gaze which had some lingering viciousnessin it, rose half reluctantly to her feet. Standing so, her deformitywas even more visible than it was when she was seated; and it took allmy nerve and power of will to take the measure of the mis-shapenshoulders without shrinking from the touch. And then I saw theimprobability, I might say the impossibility, of finding in anyready-made-clothing store, a dress which would fit the twisted form. One must be made on purpose; one which would set at defiance all rulesof symmetry; and how to have it completed to-morrow, even late in theday to-morrow? Where should I go to have such an order filled by thetime I desired it? And I believed from what I had seen of Matty thatthe non-fulfilment or postponement of my hasty, ill-considered promisewould be enough to excite all her enmity again. However, I said nothinguntil we were out of the little shop, when I exclaimed at my own wantof fore-thought, and asked where I could go to have my order fulfilledwithout delay. 

"You can't do it, " said Bessie. "Even at the stores where they professto furnish costumes at twenty-four hours' notice, they would not agreeto give you, in so short a time, a dress for which they can use noordinary pattern. Amy, "--with what seemed to be a most irrelevantchange of subject, --"is any one coming to your house to dinnerto-night?"

"Cousin Serena, and yourself if you will, " I answered. 

"Yes, I intended to suggest that you should invite me, " answeredBessie, "and, had you proved obdurate, should have appealed to Milly oryour mother. Well, there will be four of us: yourself, cousin Serena, Milly, and myself; and we will press the mother and Mrs. Rutherfordinto the service. Let us go to Arnold's, buy some suitablematerial, --and we all know what cousin Serena is with scissors andthimble, --coax her to cut out a dress for Matty, and we will all devotethe evening, perhaps the whole night, to it. By our united exertions, Ithink that we can surely accomplish it in time for you to take it toher to-morrow, and your credit will be saved. "

"If we were not in the street, I should fall upon you with kisses andtears of gratitude, " I answered ecstatically; "as it is, consideryourself embraced. --Cousin Serena, will you help us?"

There was no question of that: cousin Serena was only too glad to giveus her services; and although, as I have said, she needed to be guidedand tyrannized over in the matter of style and fashion where her owndress was concerned, she was an expert in fashioning garments for thepoor. 

Bessie's idea was acted upon forthwith. We took our way down toArnold's, purchased the necessary material, and, lest it should not besent home in time, bid pride hide its head, and carried the parcelsourselves. 

Jim beamed upon us when he gathered, from the conversation around thedinner-table, to what the evening was to be devoted, and became quitean overpowering nuisance with his pressing attentions to the youngladies. 

The dress was so nearly completed that night that Milly and I had butlittle difficulty in finishing it for the next afternoon. 

Father and mother gave consent to my pursuing my benevolent intentionswith regard to Matty, so far as I could do it without venturing intothe abode of her wretched parents, but positively forbade my goingthere even under the guidance and protection of cousin Serena. Indeed, the fear of them which Tony and Matty showed augured little good orencouragement for those who would benefit these children, unless someprofit therefrom, was to accrue to the elder Blairs themselves. 

The dress was ready in good time, and supplemented by the addition of awarm sack of the same color from mother and a little cloth cap fromaunt Emily. A hood had been in the thoughts of the latter, as warmerand more suitable; but I had begged for the cap as affording betteropportunity for the display of Matty's hair. "Poor little object!" Ipleaded: "why not allow her the gratification of this small vanity?"and aunt Emily yielded, as she was sure to do when any one's smallwhims and fancies were to be satisfied. 

Maria made the garments into a neat parcel for me; and I, thinking togive Jim a pleasure, summoned him on his return from school to be thebearer thereof, and to accompany me to Johnny's. That Jim was pleased, was an assured fact; and his tongue wagged incessantly thoughrespectfully all the way until we arrived at our destination. Thenwhile I opened the parcel, and presented Matty with the dress and otherarticles, he stood by in delighted contemplation, looking from me toMatty as if he would say to her, "This is my young mistress;" to me, "This is my _protégée_. "

As for Matty, she appeared, so far as she showed any feeling at all, toconsider that the gifts were altogether due to him; and she vouchsafedno word of thanks to me. Not that I cared for expressions of gratitude;but I felt a little hopeless as I saw how entirely I had failed to makeany impression on her. 

Tony, however, who was present again, was profuse in his thanks, andreally seemed to feel all that he said. 

The shining hair fell like a shielding veil over Matty's deformityagain to-day; and after this it became her practice to wear it so whenshe was away from home. There she wore it tightly bound up, and kept itas much out of sight as possible; fearing, poor little creature, thatshe might be bereft of it, should any idea of its pecuniary value enterher mother's mind. 

CHAPTER X. 

A COLD BATH. 

"Well, Jim, " I said, as I returned home in the fast-gathering twilight, with my escort trotting beside me, "how are you getting on now atschool? I have not heard lately. "

"I'm havin' an awful hard time just now, Miss Amy, " he answered, comingnearer, --"an awful hard time. "

"How is that?" I asked. "Are they pressing you too much? Have theygiven you too many lessons, or are those you had before becomingharder?"

"Neither, miss, " he answered. "'Tain't the lessons; I don't mind them. Lessons ain't nothin'--I mean lessons ain't anything"--Jim was growingmore choice in language, and taking infinite pains with his parts ofspeech--"when a feller has such good help as Miss Milly or Mr. Edward. If they're too hard for me, one of 'em always helps me an' makes 'emplain, an' I keep along good enough in the classes. But it's thekeepin' cool, an' not flyin' out when I get provoked, 'specially withthat Theodore Yorke. Miss Amy, you never saw the like of him. He's justthe meanest chap ever breathed; and the way he finds out things youdon't want him to know, an' keeps bringin' 'em up an' naggin' about'em, is the worst. "

"All the more credit to you, then, Jim, if you keep your temper undersuch provocation, " I answered soothingly, "and you show yourself by farthe better man of the two. You know the Bible says, 'Greater is he thatruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city. '"

"Well, Miss Amy, " he said, "I guess it ain't no such rememberin' norBible texes that keeps me cool. It's lots of other things. First, I dowant awful bad to do credit to Miss Milly; then I don't want to fightTheodore, nor have a real sharp fallin' out, on account of the captainan' Mrs. Yorke; then I'm thinkin', if I don't learn to hold my tempernow, how will it be if I come to be President of these States? I s'posethere's lots of things that'll be provokin', an' hard to stand, whenyou're President; and if Congress don't want to mind you right spangoff when you tell 'em to do a thing, an' goes to foolin' round aboutit, I s'pose it don't do to be flyin' out, 'cause then folks wouldthink you wasn't fit to be President. Besides, when one's mad he can'tthink about the best way to do things, an' I might make foolish lawsthey wouldn't like. But most of all it will be a great deal better wayto get even with Theodore if I come out first with Mr. ----"

Here he suddenly checked himself, and even in the dim twilight I couldsee the color mounting to the roots of his carroty hair. He hadevidently been on the verge of some disclosure which he would haveregretted, and no questions succeeded in drawing forth any thingfurther from him. 

He had been sufficiently candid, however, in admitting that he was notinfluenced, in the struggle with himself, by any abstract notions ofright and wrong, or by any special desire to please a higher power. Butthat he had some motive still undeclared, and of greater weight withhim than any of those he had mentioned, I was convinced; and why shouldhe wish to keep it back?

However, my cogitations on the subject, and Jim's confidences, were nowcut short by the appearance at the corner, of another escort, who tookcharge of me at once with a very decided remonstrance against myremaining out till this hour "with only the protection of that boy. "

This was a slight which would have wounded Jim to the quick had heheard it, which he fortunately did not, as it was spoken in anundertone; and he was evidently pleased to be freed from an attendancewhich had become embarrassing to him by his own indiscretion. 

"What do you suppose he could have meant?" I asked of Milly that night, after I had rehearsed to her, in the privacy of our own room, myconversation with Jim. 

"I am sure I do not know, " said my sister. "If it were possible, Ishould think he meant uncle Rutherford's prize; but as he does not andcan not know of that, of course it cannot be. And while we must allwish that he were acting from a higher motive than any of these, stillit is a great point gained, that he is so learning to control himself;the habit will be formed, and he will learn to be his own master. But Ifear that Theodore Yorke is not a truthful or upright boy. Even our ownboys, who see so little of him, call him a sneak; and although he has abold, self-assertive manner, it has none of Jim's frankness. Oh, uncleRutherford, I wish that you could have seen things differently!"

But as uncle Rutherford had not only seen things in his own light, buthad acted thereon, there was nothing for us to do beyond giving Jimwhat help we could. There was little, however, a lady could do to helpa boy in a public school in his struggle with adverse circumstances, save by advice and encouragement; and Milly did not fail him in these. 

Taking a hint from what I had seen of Jim's influence over Matty, I nowbased my plans for her benefit and regeneration upon that, in additionto the play upon her vanity by means of that wonderful and much-prizedhair. Jim, too, I knew would paint me and all my doings in glowingcolors, making much of any little kindness I might do for her. 

The blue dress and other decent clothes were kept at kind Mrs. Petersen's "for fear of the drink, " and Matty donned them there whenshe found occasion to wear them; and this led me to carry out the ideaof rescuing the children, Matty and Tony, entirely from the intemperatewretches who dishonored the names of father and mother, and placingthem under the care of Mrs. Petersen. So long as the two littlecripples brought home such portion of their weekly earnings as Jim hadagreed should be allowed to Blair and his wife, the latter cared littlewhere or how the neglected children spent their time, especially asthey were now provided with their dinner as a part of the price oftheir services at the peanut-stand. 

The disapprobation in Milly's manner, which I had noticed and wonderedat, when my new enterprise was under consideration, had altogethervanished after that first afternoon; and she had not only helped withall her might in the making of the blue dress, but she had ever sincebeen interested and full of thoughtful suggestion. 

"Milly, " I said to her one day soon after, "why did you seem sounwilling to have me undertake to care for that little cripple? Yousurely had formed a precedent for such things in our family. I nevercould understand your objections; for, that you had objections, I couldnot help seeing. "

Milly laughed. 

"I find that such objections as I entertained were not well founded, "she answered. 

"Perhaps so, but that does not tell me what they were, " I insisted. 

"Well, " she said, "I was a little afraid that Jim might feel that youwere trespassing on his preserves; and your field for charity is solarge, and his so small, that I did not wish him to imagine that he wasinterfered with. "

"Well, that is disposed of, for he is delighted with my co-operation, "I said. "Now, what else was it?"

Milly was reluctant to say; but I persisted, and at last sheanswered, --

"I feared that it was only--that you would soon tire of it, Amy, andthat the experiment would then prove good neither for you nor forMatty; but in that too I hope I was wrong. "

After events left no room to prove whether or no I should have beenlong steadfast to my purpose of caring for poor Matty; that was takenout of my hands. 

Jim's report from school had been one of unbroken credit for weeksnow, --in conduct, that is; and to those who knew the boy's fiery, impulsive, and, until he fell under Milly's care, untrained, nature, the record was a remarkable one. In his classes, he was doing fairlywell, and making progress of which he had no need to be ashamed, buthis lessons were by no means always perfect; and, happily, it was notso much to them that we looked, as the chief means for his gaininguncle Rutherford's prize, for Theodore's standing in this respect wasgenerally a better one than his own. 

I had noticed, and Milly at length came to do so, that if the recordwas an unusually good one, and he received an extra amount of praise, he still always appeared sheepish and ill at ease, and as though he hadsomething on his mind which he was half-inclined to make known. But henever came to the point of doing so, and Milly had ceased to ask him. 

We were kept pretty well informed, too, of the progress and standing ofTheodore Yorke; partly by uncle Rutherford's interest in the matter andthe inquiries he made of the teachers every week, and also by thecaptain's pride in his grandson, whom he considered a prodigy oflearning. The boy was certainly bright and clever, as was Jim; and thetwo kept fairly even in their record, both for lessons and conduct. 

But while Jim continued to grow in popularity with both teachers andscholars, it was not so with Theodore, and there was a strong prejudiceagainst him, especially among the boys. There seemed to be noparticular cause of offence or instance of wrong-doing to be broughtagainst him, but there it was; and neither masters nor schoolmatesseemed to place any confidence in him. 

As far as trade went, Jim was certainly making a good thing out of theschool; for, owing to his persuasions, to say nothing of that leaningtoward peanuts which is a marked feature of every boyish mind, thecalls at Matty's stand on the way to and from the school were veryfrequent; and while pennies and nickels flowed in upon the smallvender, peanut-shells were scattered all over the building andplayground, until at last they called forth a remonstrance from thejanitor. Finding this of no avail, he threatened an appeal to thehigher authorities; but, as he was a good-natured old soul, hehesitated to draw reproof upon the boys, when about this time anincident occurred which made complaint unnecessary, as peanuts becameprohibited altogether within school bounds. 

"Jim, " said a boy, coming to him one morning before the school-bellrang, "do you see the lot of peanuts Theodore Yorke has?"

"I don't pay much heed to Theodore Yorke or his havin's, " answered Jimscornfully. "It's no odds to me if he has bushels of peanuts or nary aone. "

"But maybe it is odds to you, " answered the other boy. "I ain't atelltale; but Theodore Yorke's always buyin' peanuts off of your stand, an' you can bet he comes away from that stand with a lot more peanutsfor two cents or five cents than any one of the rest of us does. "

Jim turned sharply upon him. 

"You don't mean Matty gives him over measure, Rob?" he said. 

"She don't _give_ him over measure, but he gets over measure, " repliedRob; "an' I tell you 'cause I think it's a shame to be cheatin' you an'the girl. "

"What is it, then? Out with it!" exclaimed Jim. "I can see how she cancheat him givin' him short measure if she likes, but I can't see how hecan cheat her gettin' _over_ measure. "

"S'pose when she's measurin' out what he's asked for, he puts his handinto the big basket on her other side, maybe more than once, too;how'll that do for helping himself to long measure, hey?" said Robert. 

"How do you know?" asked Jim, trying to control his rising fury untilhe had all the facts. 

"I've seen him do it more than once, an' more than twice, " replied Rob. "You know we live in the same house, and mostly come on to schooltogether, an' both him an' me is apt to stop for peanuts. And the firsttime I saw him do that, taking out a handful extra for himself, was onemorning when I hadn't any money to buy; but he stopped in, and I staidout, 'cause it was too kind of tantalizing to go in and smell 'em allfreshly roasted, and not get any; and I was looking in between theposies and plants in the shop, and when Matty was filling up hermeasure for him--only the two-center one--I saw him do that mean trick;on a girl, too, and she a hunchback! He slipped his hand into thebasket, and carried it full to his dinner-basket. So after that Iwatched, whether I went in or staid out; and he never lets a time go bythat he don't hook a handful, maybe two, if he gets the chance. Yousee, that girl's got such a lot of thick hair hanging round her, it'smost like a thick veil, and would keep her from seeing what goes onbehind or by the side of her. I tell you, Jim, I guess with one timeand another he must have bagged two or three quarts of peanuts off ofyou and the hunchback, and I couldn't let it go on any longer. Thisvery morning he bought two cents worth, and hooked as much as five. "

Jim's indignation had grown higher and fiercer with every succeedingword of this story; and, unfortunately, at this moment Theodore camearound a corner of the school-building upon the playground, and, as acombination of ill luck would have it, he was eating peanuts, which heextracted from a pocket whose bulging proportions showed that the stockfrom which he was drawing was a large one. 

The sight inflamed Jim's passion beyond all bounds; and he immediatelyadvanced upon Theodore in a manner and with a look which left no doubtas to his purpose. The culprit dodged the first blow aimed at him; butin another instant Jim's hand was upon his collar, while, with languagewhich was neither choice nor mild, he struck him several times, andwould have continued the blows had he not in his turn been seized uponby one of the masters, who had seen the whole thing, to whom itappeared to be the most unprovoked attack. 

Jim's fury had so passed beyond restraint, that for a moment neitherthe sight of the teacher nor his stern voice calling him to order hadthe effect of bringing him to his senses; and he even turned upon thegentleman himself, probably believing for the moment that it was one ofthe other boys. His crestfallen, mortified look when he was recalled tohimself did not help him in the estimation of the teacher, who took itas a sign of guilt; while Theodore, once freed from his assailant, stood by as the martyr and peaceable boy who would not strike a blow, even in self-defence. Rob, meanwhile, frightened by the consequences ofhis disclosures to Jim, slunk off without waiting to bear testimony tothe provocation which Jim believed himself to have received. 

Jim was "reported, " of course, and punished; and the knowledge thatthis must come to the ears of Miss Milly and Mr. Rutherford did nottend to soothe his anger, nor did he feel that his desire for vengeancewas yet satisfied. As he had been deprived of his recess, however, hehad no immediate opportunity of gratifying it; and when school wasover, the principal, who was a just though strict man, and who wasparticularly interested in uncle Rutherford's scheme and the two rivalsfor his prize, called both Jim and Theodore before him, and inquiredinto the cause of the disturbance. 

Now, Theodore was perfectly well aware of this, for Jim had not failedto make use of his tongue as well as his fists, and he knew that insome way his petty and oft-repeated thefts had come to light; but hewas not going to confess his own iniquities, and Jim was what RobStevens, with less reason, had asserted himself to be, --"no telltale. "

He rather sulkily replied, to the questions of the principal, that"Theodore knew, and could tell if he liked;" but Theodore doggedlydeclared that he had given and knew of no cause of offence, and thatthe attack had been entirely without reason. 

As Jim could not be persuaded to bring any accusation other than thescornful, ferocious looks with which he regarded Theodore; whileTheodore himself was evidently uneasy and fearful lest his antagonistshould speak the truth, --Mr. Rollins was convinced that the latter wasreally, in some way, to blame. But of course he could not punish himwithout reason; while Jim had been caught red-handed, and must, atleast, be reprimanded and warned. The gentleman told him that heforfeited his recess for a week, and that, if he trespassed again inthis manner, he would be degraded to a lower class. 

Jim received his sentence in silence; but when Mr. Rollins spoke of thepenalty to follow future offending, his ruddy face blanched. _That_meant not only disgrace in the school, but, what was far worse to him, before Miss Milly and Mr. Rutherford, and the lessening of his "chance"with the latter, and Theodore's preferment above him. 

As the boys were dismissed from the tribunal of justice, and turnedaway, Mr. Rollins caught a glance of gratified malice which Theodorecast at the other boy; and he was more than ever persuaded that therewas something behind all this, and that Theodore was, perhaps, the onewho was the most to blame. 

They had reached the door, when Jim turned, and, coming back to thedesk of the principal, said in a low tone, "Thank you, sir, for notputtin' any thing more on me than the recess. I don't mind that somuch, an' I'll try hard not to break rules again; but _you_ can't tellhow hard it is not to get mad when the mad lies so near the top, an'you're gettin'"--"cheated" would have been the next word, but Jimchecked himself ere it was spoken. 

"Do I not, my boy?" answered the gentleman: then seeing that Theodorewas lingering at the door as if anxious to hear what passed, he said tohim, with something of sternness in his voice, born of the doubt as towhich of the two boys was the greater culprit, "Go on, sir, you have noneed to wait;" adding to himself, "That boy has a guilty conscience. "Then, when Theodore had closed the door behind him, he turned again toJim, and continued, "You are mistaken, Jim, if you think I do not knowwhat it is to struggle with a quick temper. "

"You, sir?" said Jim. 

"Yes, I, " answered Mr. Rollins; and then he followed with the story ofhis own struggles with a passionate temper, and the final victory overhimself, with much good advice and encouragement to Jim. Encouraged theboy certainly did feel, as he left the presence of the master, fortified with new resolutions for the future. 

But master Theodore was not to escape without his share of punishment. 

As his own ill luck would have it, --perhaps it would be better to say, as a righteous retribution would have it, --as he was on his way homefrom school, and was crossing the park on which our house fronted, hefell in with three or four of his classmates, among them Rob Stevens, the witness of his thefts. 

"What have you done with Jim?" asked one of the boys. 

"He's getting it from the commander-in-chief, " said Theodoreexultantly. "He's lost his recess for a week, and is to be put down toclass four if he gets into another of his rages, as he's sure to do;and now he's taking no end of a blowing-up. The commander sent me outso I wouldn't hear it. Good enough for him. I hope he'll get it hot andheavy. "

"What did _you_ get?" asked Rob. 

"What did I get? Nothing; why should I?" responded Theodore, who hadnot the slightest idea of the way by which Jim had learned of histhefts, or that here was his accuser. 

"Didn't you tell why Jim pitched into you when you saw he was gettin'held up for it?" asked Rob. 

"No!" roared Theodore, partly in fear, partly in anger, for he nowcould not fail to see that Rob knew _something_, but how much he couldnot tell. "I hadn't any thing to tell, and hadn't done any thing toJim, --to his high-mightiness Jim Grant Garfield Rutherford LivingstoneWashington, the fellow with a whole dictionary-full of names, and not aright to one of them but the Jim. I just wish he would get into a dozentantrums, till he gets expelled from the school. "

"Nothin' mean about you, is there?" said one of the other boysindignantly, although he was still ignorant of the cause of Jim'sprovocation. 

But this was too much for Rob. 

The boys had neared the fountain in the centre of the park. At thisseason, it was never or seldom playing; but some repairs had been foundnecessary, and the workmen had had the jet in action for some hours, and the large basin around it was full of water. The boys stoppedbeside it, not noticing a tall figure which sat upon one of the parkbenches near. 

"Nothing mean about _him_!" repeated Rob in a loud voice, which mighteasily be heard on the other side of the fountain, "nothing mean aboutTheodore Yorke! He's the meanest sneak in our school, or out of it, either! I'll tell you why Jim pitched into him. He's been stealingpeanuts off of Jim's stand when the little hunchback's head was turned. I saw him, more than once, and I wasn't going to have it any longer; soI told Jim, and I'd just told him of it when Theodore came on eatingpeanuts, the very ones, for all I know, that I saw him steal thismorning; and no wonder Jim's spirit was up, and he pitched into him. Iwish he'd had it out with him, too, before Mr. Leeds came up. If he wasgoing to be punished, he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. And Jim's never said a word, I s'pose, or let on what he did it for;and you let him take all the blame. Bah! I wouldn't be you, for acart-load of peanuts!"

"You didn't see me, either. I don't know what you're talking about!"stammered Theodore, so taken aback by the damaging testimony of thisunexpected witness of his sin, that he lost all self-possession, andhis looks proclaimed him guilty of the offence with which he wascharged. 

Uprose from the bench beyond the group the figure sitting there, and, striding towards the still unobservant boys, laid one hand uponTheodore's collar, the other on that of Rob; and the startled Theodorelooked up into the stern, set face of his grandfather. 

"Have I heerd aright?" said the old man in his righteous wrath. "Have Iheerd my gran'son called a thief, an' a sneak, what let a boy like Jimbe blamed for doin' what he had a right to do, if what this 'ere fellersays is true?--Kin ye prove it?" turning to Rob, while he still kept atight hold on either boy. 

"Yes, I can, " said Rob, maintaining his ground, although he was alittle frightened by the captain's looks and tones; and once more herehearsed the story in all its details. 

By this time several persons, attracted by the somewhat unusualspectacle of an old man holding two boys by their collars, had stoppedto hear what was going on; and there were symptoms of a crowd. Seeingthis from afar, a policeman bore down upon the scene, --the very one whohad had the dispute with the captain as to the propriety of Daisyplaying peanut-vender on the street-corner. 

As he came near, Captain Yorke released his hold upon Rob's collar;then tightening that upon Theodore's, the still stalwart old seamanlifted the boy from his feet, and, stepping close to the basin of thefountain, plunged him over his head in the icy water. The day had beena mild one, sunny and bright, for spring was in the air; but the waterwas still sufficiently cold to make such a sudden plunge any thing butpleasant, and this summary method of punishment, well deserved thoughmost of the spectators knew it to be, was not to be tolerated in such apublic place. So thought the policeman who now came running up, as thecaptain, having given his grandson three good dips, lifted him drippingand shivering from the basin, and placed him upon his feet. 

[Illustration: "PLUNGED HIM OVER HIS HEAD IN THE ICY WATER. "--_Page_ 214. ]

"What's this?" asked the officer, who had long since made his peacewith the old man, who was wont to hang about the park, and in thevicinity of our house, and who amused him vastly with his comments uponmen and things in the city. "What are you up to now, captain?"

"Givin' this boy a duckin'; an' if I told ye what for, I donno but ye'dbe for takin' of him up, " answered the captain, disregarding allconsiderations of parental or family pride. "If ye fin' me a meaner onenor he is in this big town, I'll duck him, too, an' keep him under tillhe begs an' swears he'll mend his ways. --Now, git along home, sir, " tothe shaking Theodore. "I'd willin' pay for two suits of clo's to havethe satisfaction of givin' ye yer desarvins, though I don't know asye've got 'em yet. Git!"

Theodore, only too glad to obey, sped away like the wind; while thecaptain, as the policeman was about to interfere further, turned to theofficer, and, taking him by the arm, as if he were going to arrest_him_, repeated in a friendly tone, "He's had no more than hisdesarvin's, --young scamp; an' them's my opinions. I'll tell ye. "

"But what are you about, ducking that boy in a public fountain?" askedthe officer, doubtful what course to pursue with the old original. "Don't you know such a thing is a breach of the public peace?"

"I don't know nothin' about your breaches, " said the old veteran, nowhit disturbed; "but I knows I got a right to duck that boy where'erI've a min' to. He's my gran'son, --more shame to me, --an' a littlewater ain't goin' to hurt him. His fam'ly's used to water, --good saltwater, too, " with a contemptuous look at the fluid in the fountainbasin, "an' if I could wash the meanness outer him, I'd duck him adozen times a day. Come along. "

And still with his hand upon the policeman's arm, the captain turnedaway with him, soon satisfying the guardian of the peace that this wasno case for arrest. Barney agreed that he had the right to take the lawinto his own hands, although this was hardly the place for him to doso. 

Of course Theodore's thefts, and the story of the grandfather's summarypunishment, went the rounds of the school the next morning, and it soonreached the ears of the teachers and principal; and Theodore was calledup again before the latter, this time to receive a far sternerreprimand than had been bestowed upon Jim. As the offence had beencommitted out of school bounds and school hours, the punishment for itdid not lie within the jurisdiction of Mr. Rollins; but, in addition tothat which he had received from his grandfather, it was meted out tohim on the school premises. From that time he acquired the _sobriquet_of "Peanuts, "--a name which, short as it was, attracted far morederision and notice than that of Jim Grant Garfield RutherfordLivingstone Washington. 

And Jim, for his silence before the principal, his heroic determinationto "tell no tales, " was more of a favorite than ever. 

Whether this tended to lessen Theodore's animosity toward him, or tosoften the standing feud between them, may be judged. 

The contempt and dislike which the school generally entertained forTheodore were brought to their height, when the edict was promulgatedthat peanuts should be no longer brought within bounds. Being aforbidden fruit, they at once acquired a value and desirableness evenbeyond that which they had possessed before. By some unexplainedprocess of reasoning, the authorities had arrived at the conclusionthat they were the cause of the late disturbance; and so they weretabooed, much to the displeasure of the boys, who, beside thedeprivation to themselves, considered Jim a victim, as the order, ofnecessity, in a measure lessened his sales. 

CHAPTER XI. 

FIVE DOLLARS. 

Dear old Mrs. Yorke had improved rapidly under the care of thespecialist who was treating her case; but she was ill at ease in hercity quarters, partly because she was unaccustomed to her surroundings, partly because she was never certain, when the captain was away fromher, that he was not doing some unheard-of thing which might bring himinto a serious predicament. And now here was this trouble between Jim, of whom she and the captain were so proud and so fond, and hergrandson, and the disgrace of the latter; so that just now her bed wasnot one of roses, and she longed for the quiet and peace of her simpleseaside home. 

"If Adam would but go home, and take the boy with him, " she sighed toMammy one day, "I could be easy in my mind, for I know that Jabez andMatilda Jane and Mary would look after him well, and he would be out ofharm's way; but now I wouldn't be a bit surprised if some day he turnedup in the police-court, just for doin' something he thought was noharm, but that is against city rules. His ways and city folks' waysain't alike. An' there's the boy, an' what he's done; all the schoollearnin' in the world ain't goin' to pay for such a shame. No, youneedn't say it was on'y a boyish trick; you on'y say that to make memore easy like; an' with thanks all the same to Governor Rutherford, I'd a sight rather he'd left Theodore down to the Point, an' out of theway of such temptations as he gets here. An' when they once begin thatway as boys, you never know where they'll end. No, no; I wish Adam andthe boy were home. "

Poor Mrs. Yorke! She had, indeed, too much reason to dread the afterresults of "once beginning that way;" for Theodore seemed likely tofollow in the footsteps of his good-for-nothing father. 

Uncle Rutherford, of course, heard of the peanut episode, and expresseda fitting censure on Theodore's conduct, both to our family and to theboy himself; but we said among ourselves, that he not only appeared toendorse, but to enjoy, Jim's swift, passionate punishment of Theodore, and he escaped with a very slight reproof, if, indeed, the few words hesaid to him concerning the matter could be called reproof; and Millyfelt no fear that he had lost ground with uncle Rutherford. 

Fortunately the captain, knowing little or nothing of the streets, wasgiven, when by himself, to haunting our neighborhood and the parkopposite; so that he came much under the notice and patronage of thefriendly policeman, whose daily beat was in that quarter, and who kepthim on many an occasion from going astray, or making a spectacle ofhimself. 

The captain had sought out Rob Stevens, insisted that he should tellhim just how many times he had seen Theodore steal peanuts from Matty, and, so far as he could judge, to what amount each time; then countingup what he supposed them to be worth, which he put at an enormouslyhigh valuation--the honest old man!--that he might be sure to err onthe right side, he forced Theodore to go with him to the stand, and payMatty for the stolen fruit. He endeavored, too, to make him apologizeto Jim, both for the theft of his property, and also for hiscontemptible meanness in keeping silent on the occasion of Jim's attackon the playground. But here he was powerless: Theodore absolutely anddoggedly refused to do it; and his grandfather was obliged to contenthimself with relieving his own feelings, and further expressing hissentiments on the boy's conduct, by giving him a severe flogging. 

Spring was upon us now; an early, mild, and beautiful spring. Day afterday of sunny delicious weather succeeded one another; the children camehome from their walks or drives in the Central Park, in ecstasies overthe robins, blue-birds, and squirrels they had seen. In the woods atOaklands, --whither father went once or twice a week to have an eye uponhis improvements and preparations for the summer, --spring-beauties, hepaticas, and anemones, and even a few early violets, were showingtheir lovely faces; and all young things--ah, and the older onestoo--were rejoicing that the "winter was past and gone. "

With the advent of the mild weather, Matty's stand had been removed outof doors and beneath the shelter of Johnny Petersen's shop; and thissituation proved more profitable than it had been within, as many acharitable passer-by, seeing the pitiful figure and pinched face of thepoor child, would stop to purchase. During the hours of the day whenthe sun was warm and bright, her surroundings were not much lessattractive than they had been within; for the glass sashes of thelittle flower-store were generally wide open behind her, while Johnnyfrequently brought forth some of his plants for an airing upon thesidewalk. 

As his custom increased with the warm weather, and people came forpotted plants and so forth for their gardens and windows, Johnnyoccasionally found it necessary to be away for a few hours buying newstock at the larger greenhouses and markets; and when Mrs. Petersen didnot find it convenient to take his place in the shop, he depended uponTony to keep watch, and make small sales for him. The lame boy wasbright and apt; and Johnny had drilled him well as to prices and soforth, and found him a tolerably satisfactory substitute during his owntimes of absence. 

One would have thought that Theodore Yorke would have avoided theneighborhood of the peanut-stand after his exposure and disgrace; butit was not so. His grandfather had cut short the small amount ofpocket-money which he had occasionally given him, and he was now leftpenniless, and so no more visited the place as a customer; but heseemed to take a delight in hanging around it, and annoying Matty andTony, who were now on their guard, and watched him unceasingly. Tonyand he frequently exchanged sundry compliments not suited to earspolite; and Johnny, if he saw him, would come out and drive him away. The shop was absolutely forbidden ground to him; within it he was notsuffered to set a foot. 

One bright afternoon when Johnny Petersen happened to be away, and Tonywas in charge, Theodore came sauntering up to the stand, to the greatdissatisfaction of the children. Matty was in her usual seat behind hertable; Tony seated on the low door-step of the store, his crutcheslying on the ground beside him and within reach of his hand. 

Theodore came up, glanced into the store, and, seeing that the masterwas absent, addressed himself to the amiable amusement of teasing andworrying those who were too helpless to defend themselves. 

"Me an' Matty's lookin' out for ye, an' ye needn't come roun' to bestealin' no more peanuts, " said Tony at length, "an' I'll call the M. P. If you comes too close to the stand. We ain't goin' to stan' nofoolin', we ain't; an' Jim told us you don't have a cent of money now, so you ain't come to buy with one hand an' help yourself with t'other. It'd be helpin' yourself with both; so clear out!"

"I ain't comin' near your old peanuts, " said Theodore; "an' they ain'tyours, anyway. "

This style of converse continued for some minutes, growing more andmore personal each instant; till at last Theodore said to Matty, who, according to her usual custom, had remained perfectly silent, --

"If I had such a cushion on my back as yours, I wouldn't make it biggerpiling such a heap of hair on it. You look like a barber's-shop showfigger. I wonder you don't sell yourself for a show figger. You'd lookso pretty an' smart. "

Matty only gave him one of her most vicious looks, and clinched hersmall claw-like hands as though they longed to be at him; but Tonyanswered for her. 

"They don't get no such hair to the barbers' shops without payin' lotsfor it, " he shouted; "an' she ain't no need to make a figger ofherself. She can sell it for a heap of money, --five dollars, if shechooses, --Mr. Petersen says so, an' Jim says so, too. But she ain'ta-goin' to have it cut off; she likes it too much, an' the ladies likesit, Jim's ladies do, an' they telled her to leave it hang down, an' oneon 'em give her a blue dress to make it look purtier on it; an' she'sgive her lots of things more. An' they've give me lots of things, too;the ole un she give me a whole suit for Easter, an' me an' Matty lookedas good as any of 'em. An' Jim says--now you keep off, " as Theodoredrew nearer, "you keep off, or I'll call the M. P. He ain't so fur. "

"Oh, you will, will you?" said Theodore; "you've got to catch himfirst, and me, too, old Hippity-hop, " and with a kick he sent bothcrutches far beyond the reach of the lame boy, then, with a derisivelaugh, ran off. And there Tony sat, helpless and unable to pursue, tilla compassionate passer-by brought him the crutches; for Matty could notstoop for them. Had the old captain seen this cowardly, contemptibledeed, he would probably have thought that all the waters of all theoceans could not "wash the meanness" from the soul of his grandson. 

For the rest of that day and for the next, and for two or threesucceeding ones, Theodore's thoughts dwelt much upon this lastinterview with the two cripples; but do not let it be thought, with anydisquieting reproaches from his conscience, or any feeling of remorse. To him, all that had passed was a mere nothing, not worth a secondthought, save for the one idea which had made a deep impression on him. 

That hair of Matty's, that mass of beautiful, shining hair, which evenhis boyish, unpractised eye could see was something uncommon, --worthfive dollars; it was impossible! And yet could it be? If "Jim's ladies"thought it so beautiful, it might be that it was worth a good deal ofmoney. What fools, then, were Matty and Tony, the one for keeping itupon her head, the other for not persuading her to part with it, andtaking a share of the money for himself! In all his life Theodore hadnever had so much money; and his mean, selfish soul at once set itselfto devise means by which one--he did not yet, even to his own thoughts, say himself--could gain possession of the girl's hair. 

He had heard of girls being robbed, in the street, of their hair; butthat would never do here with Matty, no, not even though he had anaccomplice to help him. And he knew of no one to whom he could evensuggest such a thing; for he had no acquaintances in the city save theboys in his school; and to no one of them could he or would he dare topropose it, although he knew that there were among them some who werenone too scrupulous to do a shabby thing if they thought they couldgain any advantage by it. 

All this time I had vainly, as I thought, tried to gain any influenceover Matty. She took my gifts, it is true, and wore or otherwise madeuse of them; but she never showed the slightest token of pleasure inthem, or uttered one word of acknowledgment, and she was still entirelyunresponsive to any other advances on my part. It was Tony, bright, jolly little Tony, who thanked me with real Irish effusion, alwaysgreeted me with the broadest of smiles, and testified his gratitude andappreciation of my efforts for Matty's welfare by various smallofferings, till I really wished I had chosen him to befriend instead ofthat hopeless subject, his sister. It became quite a little familyjoke, as almost every evening when he and Matty came to deliver theday's earnings to Jim--for it was not considered safe for them to carrythe money to their own home--he brought also some small token for"Jim's second young lady, " whereby I was understood; now a couple ofdaisies, a rose, or two or three violets, or a few sprigs ofmignonnette, begged from Dutch Johnny; now a bird's nest, manufacturedby himself out of twine and a few twigs; and once a huge turnip whichhe had seen fall from a market-cart as it passed on its way down theavenue, and picking it up, after vainly trying to make the carter hear, had laid it aside as a suitable gift for me; and another time hebrought for my acceptance a hideous, miserable, half-starved kitten, which, as I was known by the servants to have a horror of cats, wasdeclined for me both by Jim and Thomas, greatly to Tony's mortificationand disappointment. 

At the Easter festival, when he and Matty had "looked as good asanybody, " to his mind, each child in the Sunday school had beenpresented with a small pot of pansies; and Tony, instead of taking hishome, had come from the church to our house, and, asking for me by hisusual title of "Jim's second young lady, " had shyly presented hisEaster token. 

Yes, I would fain have made an exchange, and taken Tony as my charge;but pride, and the recollection of Milly's fear that I would notpersevere with Matty, forbade. 

I had thought over all manner of plans for removing both children fromthe influence of their wretched home and drunken parents; but most ofthese were pronounced by the more experienced to be visionary and notfeasible. So they still continued to return to them at night, although, "weather fair or weather foul, weather wet or weather dry, " they neverfailed to be present at their post as early as possible in the morning. 

Miss Craven and I had taken from Jim the charge of providing thecripples' dinner; and for a trifling sum Mrs. Petersen, who had nochildren of her own, gave them that meal and their supper in her room, so that in many respects they were far better off than they had been. 

But still there seemed no loop-hole where I could insert a wedge forMatty's moral regeneration; she appeared to remain hard, impenetrable, and suspicious. 

The story of the "ducking" had, of course, been graphically rehearsedby those of the schoolboys who had witnessed it, to those who had not;and there were but few, if any, who did not enjoy the recital ofTheodore's punishment and disgrace. And from that time Captain Yorkehad become a marked figure with the boys. Before this, he had not beenknown to many of them; but now he was pointed out by the few who hadbeen present at the scene at the fountain, as the Spartan grandfatherwho had not hesitated to deal out punishment to his own flesh andblood, when it seemed to him that justice demanded it. He was often tobe seen now in the park, the centre of an admiring and appreciativegroup, to whom he related thrilling adventures which were his ownexperience as a sailor and a surfman, holding his audience spell-bound, not only by their interest in the subject, but also by his quaint andsimple manner of telling. 

Among this audience one day, were the two boys who had been present atthe theatre on the night when the captain had made such an exhibitionof himself; and they recognized him at once. Of course, it was soonspread about that he was the hero of that adventure; and the nextmorning at school, Jim was asked if he had not known it. Acknowledgingthis, it was then inquired _why_ he had not "got even with Theodore, "by turning the laugh on him, and telling that it was his grandfatherwho had made himself a laughingstock. 

"'Cause I wasn't goin' back on the old captain, " answered sturdy, loyalJim. "He's stood up for me, an' been a good friend; an' I ain't goin'to point him out for to be laughed at, not if he is Theodore'sgrandfather. "

He expected to be laughed at in his turn, and stood with defiance and"laugh if you choose" in his air. 

But no one laughed or jeered: somehow his steadfastness struck a chordin most of those boyish hearts; and Rob Stevens, clapping him on theshoulder, exclaimed, --

"And 'tain't the first time he's held his tongue, either, is it, Peanuts? We'll all vote for the feller that stan's by his friends an'don't go back on 'em. Three cheers for President Jim Washington!"

And if a voice there was silent, save Theodore Yorke's, it was notnoticed in the number which responded. 

School-life having by this time rubbed off some of his _freshness_, Jimhad learned that it would be to his own advantage to discard severalfrom the string of names which he had seen fit to adopt on hisentrance; and he now contented himself with signing his name James R. L. Washington, which appeared upon all his books and any thing else towhich he could lay claim. 

After the manner of those who have fixed their minds upon that to whichthey have no right, the more the unprincipled Theodore thought of themint of money, as he called it, upon Matty's head, the more he wishedthat he could find the means to possess himself of the material to beso easily turned into that money; and he finally arranged a plan whichhe thought both practicable and safe. 

"Matildy Jane, " whose theory it was that there were no articles of dietin New York "fit for plain folks to eat, " and who believed that herfather and mother would return home only to die victims to indigestionbrought on by high living, had sent, by the hands of a friend who cameto the city, a large basket of apple turnovers and ginger cookies, inorder that her parents might have "a taste of home cookin'. "

Slyly possessing himself of two of these turnovers and sundry cookies, Theodore thought to make his peace with Tony and Matty by bestowingthem upon them, as an equivalent for the stolen peanuts; and havingascertained when Dutch Johnny was off on another purchasing expedition, and Tony left in charge, he hurried home, and came back to theflorist's shop with these delectable viands. 

No sooner did Tony see him than he warned him off, threatening to callthe police if Theodore came any nearer; but the latter hastened topropitiate him by holding up the turnovers and saying, --

"Oh, I came to make up. Don't make a row. "

Now, if there was any thing in which the soul of Tony delighted, it wasan apple pasty of any shape or dimensions; and the tempter hadunwittingly chosen his bait well. 

Tony's threats and denunciations ceased, and he sat staring at theproffered treat; while Theodore, seeing it was taking effect, drew afew steps nearer. 

"Don't you want 'em?" he said. "I've got one for you, and one forMatty; and I've got some ginger-cakes, too. "

Warned by past experience, Tony grasped his crutches, and, stillexpecting some trick, sat dubious, with his eyes fixed as if fascinatedupon the coveted dainties, but still more than half inclined to call tothe policeman, whom he saw upon the upper corner. 

"Oh, come now!" repeated Theodore; "make up. Don't you want 'em?They're first-rate. "

The temptation proved irresistible; and, rising to his feet, Tony wenttoward his whilom antagonist in order to prevent him from coming toonear the stand, accepted one of the turnovers, looked at it on allsides, smelled of it, and finally set his teeth deliberately but withcaution into it; then turned, and looked inquiringly at Matty. 

"Pisen!" uttered that little sceptic, still unconvinced that treacherydid not lurk behind these demonstrations of friendship. 

Ay, poison indeed! but not in the sense poor Matty meant. Nor would sheaccept the other turnover or the ginger-cakes, or look at or speak toTheodore; but sat gazing afar off as if into vacancy, her faceperfectly expressionless, although Tony, now completely won over, sateating his with the utmost gusto. 

Meanwhile Theodore, having turned over the whole contents of hispockets, talked in a friendly way, leading gradually up to the matterin his mind; although he was afraid to linger long, lest Johnny shouldreturn, or some one come by who would wonder at seeing amicablerelations established between himself and Tony. 

"Been makin' good sales to-day?" he asked at length; but this put Tonyon his guard again at once. 

"Now you let peanuts alone; they ain't none of your business, " he said, his mouth full of ginger-cake. 

"I ain't goin' to touch your peanuts, " said the older boy. "I justasked. Jim's makin' an uncommon good thing out of this peanut-standwith you and Matty to run it for him, an' I hear you're doin'first-rate. But--don't I know something about Jim!"

"So do I, lots, " answered Tony, as well as he could speak. 

"You don't know what I know; and Jim wouldn't want you to, " said thebad boy. "It's his secret, and a monstrous one, too; but I know it, andI'm goin' to tell it, too. "

"I sha'n't listen to it, " said Tony. 

"Ho! I don't want you to. It's not you I mean to tell, " said Theodore. "It's the police. "

"Jim ain't done nothin' for the perlice, " said Tony furiously. "Theperlice likes him, an' wouldn't do nothin' to him. "

"Ha! You wait and see, " said Theodore; "they've got to when I tell 'em. It's a secret on Jim an' one of his young ladies, Miss Amy there, thatgives Matty her clo's an' things. He'll feel awful to have himself an'Miss Amy told on, and the police will go for 'em when they know it; butnothin' ain't goin' to put me off talkin' without I was paid for it, asmuch as five dollars, too. "

"What they done?" asked Tony, curiosity and alarm for his friendsgetting the better of his aversion to discuss the subject withTheodore. 

Theodore came nearer, and making Tony promise with the most solemnasseverations that he would not repeat, and would not suffer Matty torepeat, to any one, what he told him, said, --

"They had some poisoning done, round to Mr. Livingstone's, an' Jim andMiss Amy was mixed up in it. They did the poisoning; but 'twas foundout in time, an' their folks hushed it up. But _I_ know it, an' I'mgoin' to set the police on them unless some one would make it worth mywhile not to. Five dollars would buy me off; but there's no one I knowof, would give me five dollars, so I'm goin' to tell. "

Street Arab though he was, with his wits sharpened into preternaturalacuteness in some respects, in others Tony was guileless and easilyimposed upon; and for a moment he stared at Theodore in dismay, butpresently doubt and suspicion again obtained the upper hand. 

"I don't take no stock in that, " he said; "it's a lie, I know. I'll askJim himself. "

"If you let on to him what I've told you, I'll tell the police forcertain, whether or no, " said Theodore; "but if anybody was to saythey'd give me five dollars, an' you don't tell Jim, I'll never say aword. "

And he walked away, leaving his words to take what effect they might. That they had already taken effect, he saw, as Matty, who had notspoken a word all this time, drew the beautiful, shining tresses infront of her, and passed her skinny little hands lovingly over them. Tony stood staring stupidly after him for a moment, then burst out athim with a torrent of abuse and threats which Theodore did not deign toanswer. 

That evening about dusk, when Tony and Matty came to our house torender up the day's account to Jim, after they had settled business, Tony asked in a mysterious whisper, and half as if he feared to put thequestion, --

"Jim, tell us; has you got a secret you don't want any one to know?"

By the light of the gas-jet, beneath which they stood, in the basementhall, Tony saw the color rush in a flood to Jim's face, and an angrylight came into his eye, as he answered roughly, --

"'Tain't none of your business if I have; you let my secrets alone. "

Tony was a little frightened, but he persisted, --

"But tell us; did you and yer young lady, her what's good to us, didyou once get mixed up wid pisenin' some folks, an' it was kept darkso's the----"

"Now you shut up an' clear out quick, you little rascal!" shouted Jimfuriously. "If you come Paul Pryin' round here, a-tryin' to find out mysecrets, me an' you will fall out, an' you'll get no more help fromMiss Amy nor me. Clear!"

But Tony, alas! was answered; and the crestfallen little crippleshuffled out from the presence of the offended head of the peanut firmas fast as possible; Jim putting his head out of the door, and shoutingafter them, still in the most irate tones, --

"Now you let me an' Miss Amy an' all my folks alone, or there'll betrouble, sure!" then slammed the door after them. 

In silence they went up the street, but not immediately home: they hadother business to attend to first. 

CHAPTER XII. 

CAUGHT IN THE ACT. 

Johnny Petersen looked in surprise, consternation, and wrath when thetwo little cripples entered his shop the next morning, shamefaced andsheepish, as if they expected to be called to account for something. 

And he did not lose time in making known the cause of his displeasure, could they, indeed, have had any doubt on that question. 

Matty's hair was gone, cut close to her head, almost shaved off; andthe loss of it gave the poor little face a more wizened, pinched, andunnatural expression than ever. The effect was perfectly startling, andrepulsive in the extreme; and after staring at the child for a moment, and all but dropping the flower-pot he held in his hands, he brokeforth into a torrent of words, mingling German and broken English in amanner which made them all but incomprehensible to the poor littleones. But they knew well enough what brought them forth, and they hadno explanation to offer. It was their secret, and must remain a secret, so they thought, if the sacrifice were to be worth any thing. 

Naturally, Johnny laid the blame of the transformation on the debasedparents, whom he knew to be capable of any deed, no matter how shamefulor cruel, if thereby they could obtain the means to procure liquor. Tony and Matty gathered, from the jargon which he sputtered forth, thatthis was his idea; and they were quite satisfied to have it so, for nosentiments of filial affection moved them to enlighten him. 

And it was not only the loss of that wealth of hair which made Mattylook far worse than she had ever done before. She had not on the decentgarments she had worn for some time past, but was in the ragged andsoiled clothes which she had of late worn only when she went home atnight, discarding them in the morning when she stopped at Mrs. Petersen's and put on the better ones which had been given to her. Toall Petersen's questions she opposed a sullen silence; although shehung her head, and appeared embarrassed, which she was not apt to be. 

But Tony, with his jolly little face clouded over, appeared reallydistressed, and looked from his sister to the florist and back again ina distraught, helpless sort of way, which quite touched the heart ofthe kind old Dutchman; but neither from him could Johnny's ratherincoherent questions draw forth any satisfaction, and the children bothwere glad when the entrance of a customer drew Johnny's attention forthe time from themselves. 

But the situation did not improve for the two little unfortunates whenMrs. Petersen, uneasy that they had not appeared at her rooms for theusual change of clothing, came bustling up to know if her husband couldtell her any thing of them; and, not a little astonished to find Mattyat her post and Tony also at his, plied them anew with questions inEnglish rather better than her husband's, and to which it was moredifficult to avoid giving straightforward replies. But she gained aslittle as he had done, and she, too, took it for granted that eitherthe father or mother had deprived the little hunchback of her hair. 

The truth was, that the children had not cared to face her with thechange in Matty's appearance, and hence had concluded to come to theday's business in their old clothes. 

But Mrs. Petersen, energetic and stirring, was not going to let thematter rest thus, but was determined to probe it to the bottom ifpossible, and declared that she was going at once to see the mother, and call her to account. Whether she had some vague idea of bringingthe supposed offenders to justice, or of restoring the lost locks toMatty, I cannot tell; but just as she was leaving, Milly, Bessie, andI, bound for an early trip to spend the day with a friend in thecountry, whose birthday it was, came into the shop to purchase someflowers. 

The morning was damp and chilly, although there was the promise of afair day later on; and Matty's stand was placed inside when we enteredthe shop, and the first thing our eyes rested upon was Matty's shornhead. We all three leaped at once to the same conclusion with thePetersens. But whether it was that I was more forcibly struck than theothers with the cruelty of the thing, from having something of afellow-feeling for Matty in the possession of a profuse quantity ofhair somewhat like her own, although, as she had said, hers had been"purtier" than mine, despite the lack of the care which mine had alwaysreceived, or that I had less self-control over my emotions; certain itis that I burst into a passion of tears and sobs, which astonished notonly the good florist and his wife, but also my own sister and friend. I was ashamed of them, but could not control them; and perhaps it wasas well that I could not do so immediately, for those tears made theirway where all else had failed to effect an entrance; and, to my greatastonishment, Matty seized with both her hands upon mine, which in mygreat pity and sympathy I had laid upon her shoulder, and, carrying itto her face, laid her cheek upon it. The next instant she dropped it, and sat looking down with the same stolid expression that sheordinarily wore. Indeed, it had hardly changed even at the moment ofthat most unusual demonstration, for no trace of any emotion had beenvisible on the worn, old little face. 

Tony was delighted, as pleased as though his sister had given evidenceof some wonderful talent, or performed some heroic action. 

"She likes ye, miss, " he exclaimed, "an' I allus knowed she did, thoughshe wouldn't let on. She likes ye fust rate, though she wor kinderback'ard 'bout lettin' on. Now don't ye like the lady, Matty? If shehadn't liked ye lots, miss, she wouldn't er----" Here he checkedhimself with a frightened, embarrassed look, and rushing out of thelittle store, applied himself vigorously to the turning of his empty, tireless peanut-roaster. 

But not a word, and not another token of any thing like feeling, was tobe drawn from Matty. The rock had hardened again, and to allappearances no softening influences could be brought to bear upon it. It was not until Mrs. Petersen again expressed her positive intentionof going to call the elder Blairs to account, and was about to startoff for that purpose, that the child roused herself again, and turned, with something of apprehension in her expression, to look for Tony, who, having discovered that he was working aimlessly, was making readyto kindle his charcoal and fill his roaster. 

"I go to dat mutter an' fader; I gif dem some pieces of my mi-int, "said Mrs. Petersen, as she turned toward the door; but Milly stoppedher. 

"Do not, please, Mrs. Petersen, " she said, in a tone too low to reachMatty's ear. "It will only make trouble for yourself and us. We cannotgive poor Matty back her beautiful hair; and if you vex those dreadfulpeople, it will only put fresh difficulties in the way of persuadingthem to give up the children. "

"I tell dem my mi-int, " persisted Mrs. Petersen; but finally she waspersuaded to listen to reason and to satisfy herself with relieving her"mi-int. "

My idea had been to induce Mrs. Petersen and Johnny--or Mrs. Petersenrather, for Johnny was sure to follow her lead, to take Matty and Tonyunder their care, and give them a home. Cousin Serena had offered tofurnish the means for Tony's support, and I to do the same for Matty. But the florist and his wife had been unwilling to undertake thecharge, even if the parents could be bribed to give up the children, lest they should be exposed to trouble in the future; therefore theBlairs had not yet been approached on the subject. I was for takinghigh-handed measures, and having the children separated from them onthe ground of neglect and cruelty; but wiser and less impulsive headsthan mine had decided that there was hardly sufficient reason for this, and I had been obliged to restrain my impatience and content myselfwith such alleviations of their lot as I could compass at present. I amnot patient by nature, and could not bear to have any delay orhinderances put in the way of my schemes for the benefit of thosechildren, and in secret I chafed a little over this. 

It will readily be surmised what had become of Matty's hair. 

Doubting the truth of Theodore's story, and yet fearing that theremight be some foundation for it, Tony had confided to his sister thathe meant to ask Jim about it, notwithstanding Theodore's warning tobeware how he did so. Jim's anger at the questions he had put, especially at that regarding the "poisoning, " had been enough toconvince him that it was all true. Jim _had_ a secret which he wasafraid to have known; and that secret could be nothing more nor lessthan the alleged poisoning, which he plainly could not or would notdeny; and which, according to ignorant little Tony's ideas, he wasafraid to have come to the ears of the police. Theodore had learned ofthat unfortunate occurrence--as we heard later when all this came tolight--through the medium of a stray copy of the objectionable papercontaining the paragraph before referred to. This he had happened toread to his grandfather and grandmother, who, proud of his ability todo this far better than they could do it for themselves--for readingwith Captain and Mrs. Yorke was a work of time and difficulty, involving more pains-taking than pleasure--often set him to amuse themin this way in the evening. 

"Madison Avenue" to Captain Yorke was comprised in the block on whichour house was situated; and the curiosity of the old man beinginsatiable, he had never rested until he had located the house. By dintof questioning Thomas and the other servants, he soon learned all therewas to know, and was greatly excited and very wrathy when he heard thetruth. He repeated this to his wife and grandson, bidding them never tosay a word about it, as the family had been much annoyed anddispleased. Theodore, however, had once ventured to ask Jim about thematter, and had been met by such a burst of fury that he had neverventured to speak of it again to him. Not for fear of offending Jim, however, but because he dreaded the anger of his grandfather, shouldJim complain, as he threatened to do, to the old man; for Jim wouldhave told in this case on my account. 

But it answered Theodore's purpose when he set himself to work todevise means to obtain the five dollars he coveted. He had aroused thefears of these ignorant children for those who had been kind to them, and having been convinced by Jim's behavior that it was all true, Tonyhad proposed what indeed had been in Matty's mind before, that sheshould sell her hair, and so buy Theodore's silence. Matty had agreed;and that morning, before they had made their appearance at theflorist's, they had gone to a barber's, and, with small worldly wisdom, Tony had demanded if he would give five dollars for Matty's hair. 

Gazing with astonishment and delight at the mine of wealth displayedfor his approbation, the barber drew the long silky tresses through hisfingers, and closed the bargain at once, as well he might, supposinghim to be possessed of neither heart nor conscience. Matty's head wasexpeditiously shorn, and the proceeds of the unrighteous sale were putinto Tony's hands; for he had appeared as the speaking partnerthroughout the transaction, Matty maintaining the usual impassive, sullen silence, so seldom broken save for her brother and thePetersens. 

The next thing to do was to see Theodore and to hand him the money; andbeing in haste to do this before he should have time to give thedreaded information to the police, Tony went to the boarding-placewhich was his home at present, Matty waiting for her brother on theneighboring corner, and asked for Theodore. 

Now, this proceeding, as it proved, brought swift detection andpunishment upon the young blackmailer. 

Theodore had not remembered to guard against the children coming to thehouse; indeed, he had not thought of his rascally scheme bearing fruitat all so soon. 

Happily for the frustration of that scheme, Theodore was out, havingbeen sent on an errand by his grandfather; and the old captain himself, who was lounging on the front steps, was the one who first met the lameboy. Tony, who was not able to read numbers, had not been quite sure ofhis ground in the row of houses all so much alike; but he had nofurther doubt when he saw Captain Yorke. 

At first he drew back, uncertain whether to make it known that hisbusiness was with Theodore; but his fear that his tormentor would "tellthe perlice" before he had the opportunity to quiet him was too strongfor his caution, and he asked the captain if Theodore was "to home. "

"No, he ain't; an' what ye want with Theodore, sonny?" asked thecaptain. 

Tony hesitated and fidgeted; and the old man asked sharply and quickly, "He ain't been hookin' your peanuts agin?"

"No--o, " stammered Tony; and the captain, coming down the steps towhere the boy stood, laid his hand upon his shoulder, and saidsternly, --although the sternness was not for the cripple, --

"Ef he's touched another peanut, or been a-wrongin' of ye any way, tellme, --tell me right off. What is it?"

But Tony dared not tell; and the honest old seaman, whose confidence inhis grandson had never been fully restored, was convinced that he hadbeen about some of his evil ways again. He could do nothing with Tony, however; no persuasions could avail to draw any explanation from him;and he presently made his escape, hobbling down the street with themarvellous celerity with which he used his crutches, leaving thecaptain a prey to disquietude and apprehension. 

Nor had he hope of obtaining any thing like the truth from Theodorehimself: so he asked him no questions when he returned, nor did he tellhim that Tony had come to ask for him, but, after taking counsel withhimself, resolved to see Johnny Petersen, and tell him to be on thewatch; and soon after we had left the florist's, he appeared there. 

Tony saw the old Brutus coming down the street, stern and determined ofaspect, trouble in every line of his weather-beaten countenance, andsupposed himself to be his objective point. Dreading further catechism, and not being willing to encounter it, he dropped the crank of thepeanut-roaster, and was off again before the captain was near enough tospeak. Johnny could tell nothing, he thought, save that Matty's hairwas gone, which the old man could not fail to see for himself; and hissister, he well knew, would not speak. For a moment he thought he wouldseize his opportunity, and hasten back to the house while Captain Yorkewas away, and hand Theodore the five dollars; but he recollected thatthe oppressor would be at school, and so this would be useless. From asafe distance he watched for the captain's departure, and did notventure near his post till he saw him come out and walk away. 

As he had foreseen, not a word could either Captain Yorke or theflorist draw from Matty, when the former had made known the purpose ofhis coming; and they both questioned her closely. One might havethought that she was utterly deaf and dumb as she sat opposing thatstolid, determined silence to all they said. Johnny knew nothing whichcould throw any light on the subject; and after telling him of Tony'sembarrassment, and bidding him be on the watch, the heavy-hearted oldman left the little shop. 

Johnny did keep on the watch, but refrained from asking Tony anyquestions, keeping his eye upon him, however; but no furtherdevelopments appeared until later in the day, when he saw Theodorecoming down the other side of the avenue, and observed that Tony raiseda warning finger to him as if to bid him keep his distance. Theodorepaused on the opposite corner, and Tony went over to meet him. 

Considerations of delicacy did not withhold Johnny from intruding uponwhat was evidently meant to be a private interview; and when, after amoment's converse, Tony put his hand in his pocket, and drew forthsomething which he gave to Theodore, the florist darted from his shop, and rushed across the street with an agility which was hardly to beexpected from one of his years and girth. 

Theodore saw him coming, and his guilty conscience leaped to the truth;Johnny suspected something wrong, and was coming to accuse him. 

Closing his hand tightly on the prize which he had just received fromhis victim, he turned, and started to run. But an avenging Nemesis, inthe shape of a piece of orange-peel, was behind him; his foot slippedupon it, and he came heavily to the ground. Before he could rise, theflorist precipitated himself upon him with so much momentum, that hetoo lost his balance, and fell flat upon the boy. Not one whitdisturbed was Johnny, however, by the fear that he might have injuredhis prisoner, although he had half knocked the breath from the boy'sbody; on the contrary, he would, I think, have been quite pleased toknow that Theodore was seriously bruised. 

Rising with some difficulty, and not without assistance from apasser-by who had seen the catastrophe, puffing and panting, but stillretaining the hold he had taken of Theodore's collar, he hauled the boyto his feet, and, regardless of the punishment he had alreadyinflicted, gave him a hard cuff upon the ear, saying, --

"You runs away from me, will you? I learns you, my poy, you shtays venI vants to shpeak mit you. "

Supposing from this authoritative address that he was the father of theboy who had been guilty of some wrong, the man who had helped himpassed on his way, leaving him to deal with the culprit as he saw fit. And Johnny saw fit to handle him with any thing but gentleness, pushinghim before him across the street, and into the shop, giving him now andthen a vicious shake, diversifying this with an occasional punch in theback with the fist of the disengaged hand. Had they had any distance togo, they would probably have drawn a crowd after them; as it was, theyreached Johnny's quarters without attracting any special attention. 

"Now, " said the breathless florist when he had his captive safelywithin the shelter of the shop, "now, vat is your pusiness mit Tony?Tony is my scharge, an' I don' let him talks mit poys what shteals whatdon' pelongs to dem. Vat you got here?"

And he seized the tightly closed hand containing the five dollars, which Theodore had not yet found opportunity to conceal in a saferplace. Theodore resisted; but he was no match for Petersen, who trippedhim up again without compunction, and, regardless of consequences tothe surrounding plants, --which happily came to no harm in thestruggle, --sat upon him, and opened his hand with both his own. 

Five dollars!

Johnny was not a particularly brilliant Dutchman, and his mind wasgenerally slow in arriving at any conclusion; but the two and two whichwere to be put together here were not difficult to compute; and as helooked from the five-dollar bill to Matty's shorn head, and back again, he was not long in deciding that they made four. Matty for once showedsome sign of emotion as she sat rubbing her hand over her poor littlehead in a nervous manner; although beyond this, and the stare withwhich she regarded the combatants, she showed no trace of interest inthe affair, never once opening her lips. 

"So!" said the florist, holding out the bill at arm's length, --"so! Howis dis? You put Matty's head to de schissors, an' take him all off, undyou shteal den her monish. De peanuts is a pad pisness; but dis is somuch vorse as it goes to de prison. Tell me, Tony, how is dis?"

"I didn't steal it, he gave it to me; and I didn't touch Matty's hair, "panted the prostrate Theodore. "He--he--he wanted me to do somethingfor him, and he said he would give me that if I did it. Oh! let me up!"

"Hole your mout, and shpeak ven you is shpoken mit, " said Johnny. "Tony, shpeak an' tell me. How vas it? You is cut off Matty's head; youis got de monish, five tollars, vat I tells you he is vort; now tell mewhat for you gifs dis five tollars to dis pad poy, a poy so vorse as Ido not know. I _vill_ haf you tell me; if no, I calls de police. "

There was no escape; on all hands Tony saw visions of the police, whowould soon ferret out the whole matter, away back to Miss Amy and Jim(so Tony thought); and he found it best to throw himself and allconcerned on the mercy of his old friend, and make a full confession. 

As he told the shameful story of how Theodore had threatened to tellJim's "secret, " and to let the police know of the "poisoning" unlesssomebody paid him five dollars to keep it quiet; of the confirmation hehad himself received from Jim's manner and words when he asked himabout it; of how he and Matty had resolved to save their friends by thesacrifice of the hair which Johnny himself had often told them wasworth so much money; of how they had gone to the barber's, and sold thehair; and lastly, how he, seeing Theodore on the opposite side of thestreet, had hurried over to bribe him with the five dollars to hold hispeace, and how Theodore had accepted the price, --the kind-heartedflorist waxed more and more angry; and when he rose, and once morehauled the boy to his feet, it was only to seize a cane, and administersuch a chastisement as the culprit had seldom or never received. 

Theodore made little or no outcry, however, for he was afraid ofattracting attention from without, and perhaps himself falling into thehands of the law; for he did not know, if his deeds were once madepublic, how far he might be under the ban of that authority. 

"Now you go, " said Johnny, when at last he paused, breathless from allhis exertions, and with one final shake released his captive; "go undtell de gran'fader I fin' vat is de matter out, und I gifs de vorstvips as I could gif to de vorst poy in all de down, und so I safes himsome droubles. But if he dinks to gif you some more of de same veesic, I dink it not too moosh. For dat gran'fader, I says notings to depolice for dis time; bud if you says one leetle more vord apout deyoung lady or dat goot poy Jim, or makes afrait any more deseschillens, den you see some dings to make you shtare. Go, go!"

And Theodore stood not upon the order of his going. 

The pleasure of the day with our friends had been much marred for me bythe recollection of the shorn head of my forlorn little _protégée_ andthe repulsive appearance she now presented; and I was more than everanxious to remove her from the father and mother, who, I thought, hadtreated her so unjustly and cruelly; and I could not reconcile myselfto the idea that this afforded no grounds for my taking them away. 

But that difficulty was presently to be solved in the most satisfactoryway to those who had at heart the welfare of the crippled children. 

Mother had occasion to send Jim upon an errand shortly after his returnfrom school that afternoon; and he found it convenient, according tohis usual custom, to return by a roundabout way, and stop at thepeanut-stand. The excitement in Johnny's small establishment had hardlysubsided when he made his appearance, and it was little wonder that hetarried long on his errand; so long, indeed, that mother rather lostpatience, and said that she should forbid his stopping at his favoritehaunt, except by express permission, if this occurred again. But hiswant of punctuality was quite forgiven when he came in with the tidingswhich he bore. 

As usual, however, when any question arose of Theodore's want ofprinciple, or any instance of it was shown, there was something inJim's manner which excited the attention of those of the householdunder whose immediate observation he most came; and again Milly wassurprised to see how wistful, uneasy, and absolutely nervous he was, appearing, as he often had before, as if there were something on hismind which he wished to tell her, but which he could not muster courageto confess. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

MATTY IS PROVIDED FOR. 

"Of course, " said Uncle Rutherford, that evening in family conclave, "this business settles the question of that scholarship for TheodoreYorke. He has proved himself more utterly without principle or commonhonesty, than I could have believed possible; and while, for poor oldYorke's sake, I should be glad to give him another chance of redeeminghis character, I do not feel that the boy himself is worthy of it. Heis radically bad and vicious, with a natural leaning toward deceit anddishonesty, and a capacity for crime that is absolutely startling, orhe never could have arranged so deliberate a plan to obtain money fromthese poor little cripples. It was absolute blackmailing; and theYorkes, I fear, have sad trouble in store for them with the boy. Allthe better for your _protégé_, Milly, if he continues to do as well ashe has done lately. That fellow is in earnest, whatever may be the aimsand influences which control him. "

"I think, " said aunt Emily, "that Mrs. Yorke is right, and that itwould be best both for the captain and for Theodore to go home. The oldman keeps her in a constant worry, by his very innocence andsimplicity, which are so easily imposed upon; and it will be far betterfor that boy to be where he is not surrounded by so many temptations. Do you not think so, Nicholas? Better for him to be in his quiet, out-of-the-way home, than here, where there are so many inducements toevil for a boy without principle, such as has certainly provedhimself. "

Before Uncle Rutherford had time either to agree or dissent, Thomasannounced that Captain Yorke wished to see Mr. Rutherford and Mr. Livingstone, and was told to show the old man into the adjoininglibrary, whither papa and Uncle Rutherford adjourned to see him. 

But through the half-drawn portières, the rest of us heard all thatpassed; and, indeed, the captain was not reticent, --it was not in hisnature to be, --and he would have been quite as garrulous in thepresence of an audience of any size, provided he knew all his hearersto be friends. And not even the gravity of his errand, or the subjecton which he held forth, could restrain him from the various deviationsand wanderings to which he was prone when talking. It will not benecessary to repeat all these here. 

The old man had gone back to Johnny Petersen's just as the florist wasclosing his shop for the night, timing his second visit after the hourat which he knew the cripples would have left, and asked Johnny if hehad any further information for him. Johnny was not inclined to talk, he found, and tried to evade his questions; but he was obliged to allowthat Theodore had appeared again; and finally, so determined was thecaptain, that he asked him to come with him to his home, where he wouldtell him all. 

Seated in Mrs. Petersen's cosey room, the poor old seaman heard thestory in all its details, half bewildered by the good Dutchman's brokenEnglish, but fully able to extract from it all the painful and shamefulparticulars of his grandson's rascality. Once launched into hisnarration, Johnny spared nothing, and, at the end, rather glorifiedhimself for having taken matters into his own hands, and administeredcondign punishment to the culprit upon the spot; nor did he deem itnecessary to apologize to the grandfather for having done so, neitherdid Captain Yorke seem to expect this, or to think that he was notperfectly justified in all that he had done. 

Theodore had gone home, after his encounter with Johnny, evidentlysuffering and much crestfallen; but when his grandfather had questionedhim, he had added to his sins, and accounted for this, by saying thathe had had a fight in school; he being quite unaware of the captain'ssuspicions, and of his interviews with Tony and the florist in themorning. His grandfather had not yet confronted him with the discoveryof his sin; for he had come directly from the Petersens to our house, deeming it best to take counsel with those whom he considered wiser andless interested than himself. 

"I thought I had done with all sich work when I heered Tom was took, "said the old man pathetically; "but here it's broke out agin, an' mean' Mis' Yorke not so young as we was by a long shot, an' can't stan'it so well. The Scriptur says, 'Like father, like son;' an' I've faithto b'lieve it, seein' I'm provin' it in my own fam'ly. "

"No, no, captain, " said uncle Rutherford, holding out his hand kindlyto the veteran, "you must not say that, for if Tom had been like _his_father, he would have been a man in whom all who knew him placedconfidence. And"--contradicting his own words spoken some timesince--"we will not despair of your grandson yet. He is young, andunder good influences now. "

"It's all the wus, Gov'nor, " said the captain, shaking his head, "allthe wus to see him so young and so wicked. The Scriptur' says, 'Theways of transgressors is hard;' but I b'lieve the ways of them what hasto do with the transgressors, an' foller them up, is harder, an' them'smy opinions. "

Father and uncle Rutherford each offered a few words of sympathy, andendeavored to comfort him; but he was not yet to be consoled, and couldsee no hope for the future. He was terribly distressed over thenecessity of telling Mrs. Yorke, and said that he meant to "sleep overit, " and think of the best way of breaking it to her. But we all knewhow much probability there was of that. No sooner would he see hiswife, than his full heart would overleap all restraint he might haveintended to put upon it, and she would be put in possession of all thefacts, down to the smallest details. 

In the midst of his own perplexities, however, the captain did notforget a piece of news he had brought with him, and which especiallyinterested me, and speedily drew me into the library. 

While he was still with the Petersens, but on the point of taking hisleave, the sound of crutches had been heard on the stairs; and Johnny, turning to listen, said, --

"Dems is Tony mit his crushes. Vat is upper now?" and opened the doorto admit not only Tony, but also his sister. Tony was flustered andfrightened, with eyes half starting from his head; but Matty wasimpassive as usual, and showed neither terror nor excitement. 

"They've gone!" exclaimed the lame boy. 

"Who are gone? Vat is de madder?" asked Johnny; then added, before Tonycould answer, "Poor leetle poy, he is all upside down mit dis day. Shpeak, Tony. "

"They've gone, " repeated Tony; "an' what is wus, the furnitur' is gonetoo, an' there ain't no beds nor nuthin'. "

"Vat is gone?" asked Mrs. Petersen in her turn; then, jumping at herown conclusions, added, "De vater an' de mutter?"

"Yes, and good riddance, too; on'y we ain't got any place to sleep, "said Tony; which filial sentiment found an echo in the hearts of allpresent. 

It was all true, as Johnny found on investigation. When Tony and Mattyhad gone home that evening, they found the wretched room on the topfloor of a tenement-house, which they had inhabited with their fatherand mother, empty and tenantless; the few articles of worthlessfurniture (if furniture it could be called) which it had formerly held, taken away. But if there was no one there to welcome them, neither didthere await them the abusive language and hard blows they toofrequently encountered. They were not in the slightest degree troubledby the loss; their only feeling seemed to be, as Tony expressed it, that it was a "good riddance, " save that they had no otherresting-place for the night. A pitying neighbor had given them theirsupper; and they were told that their mother had gone out early in themorning, soon after they had gone to business, and, re-appearing with acarter, had had her few possessions carried away, leaving no wordwhither she was bound, or message for the helpless children. Themystery was solved in a degree, when two police-officers appeared a fewhours later, saying that Blair was "wanted" for a grave offence againstthe law; but the bird had flown, and so far left no trace. 

I was delighted, and could almost have thanked Blair for committing acrime which rendered flight necessary, and seemed to leave the way openfor a decent provision for the destitute children. 

Captain Yorke told us that Mrs. Petersen was going to keep them for thenight, and that they were already quite at home and comfortable, andTony excitedly happy, --happiness and Matty could not beassociated, --with the motherly German woman and her husband. 

But our two gentlemen and Captain Yorke had not yet come to anyconclusion as to what was to be done with Theodore; and it was anembarrassing question to decide. To take the boy, a boy who was makingfair progress in his studies, and who was pains-taking and ambitious, from school, and bury him in the quiet sea-side home, where, save forthree or four months of the year, he would be almost altogether cut offfrom association with any but the few still primitive inhabitants ofthe Point, and where he would be entirely deprived of any advantages ofeducation, seemed almost too much punishment even for the graveoffences which those three honorable, high-minded men found it hard tocondone. But, again, it was not to be thought of, that, devoid ofconscience and right feeling as he was, he should be left alone exposedto the temptations of the great city. For Captain and Mrs. Yorke mustshortly return home, Mrs. Yorke's physician having pronounced hersufficiently cured to be allowed to do so in the course of a few weeks;and, even as it was, the nominal protection of Theodore's grandparentshad formed no safeguard against evil. The evil was in his own heart, but he might be placed where there would be fewer opportunities for itsdevelopment. 

It was a grave matter for consideration, and could not be hastilydecided. 

"Of course, " said uncle Rutherford, as he bid the captain good-night, "of course it is out of the question for Theodore to remain in the cityafter you and Mrs. Yorke leave, even under the care of the kind womanwith whom you now board; he would not recognize her authority, andwould consider himself free to go any lengths. No, that is not to bethought of; but we may devise some other plan by which he may have someschooling and be kept in proper restraint; and he may yet in time provea help and comfort to you, Yorke. For your sake I would do much to sethim in the right way; and his teachers think that he has the making ofa clever man in him, if we can but instil something like principle intohis character. Take heart, man. "

But the captain went out sadly and hopelessly shaking his gray head, over which twenty years seemed to have passed since the morning of thatday. 

It was not, perhaps, that his affection for his grandson had been sodeeply grieved; for the boy had, until less than a year since, beenquite a stranger to his grandparents, and Theodore was not anattractive boy even to his own family; and, had the choice been givento the captain, he would undoubtedly have much preferred to claim Jimas his own, his open, sunny, joyous nature responding much more readilyto the old man's than did that of the far less amiable Theodore. But hefelt ashamed and disgraced, and as if he could not bear to look any oneof the name of Rutherford or Livingstone in the face, while he stillfelt that to our family alone could he turn for help and advice in thissad business. 

"Ye see, you and Mr. Livingstone knows a heap more 'bout wicked waysan' doin's than me an' Miss Yorke does, Gov'nor, " he said to uncleRutherford, altogether innocent of any uncomplimentary inference whichmight be drawn, "an' so ye'd know the best ways out of 'em. Yes, I saysto myself, says I, if there's enny one knows the ways out of a badscrape, it'll be them city born and bred gentlemen; so I come along totell ye afore I tole Miss Yorke or nothin'. Mebbe ye could tell me howto make it a little lighter for her, " he added wistfully. 

Alas! beyond the promise to think the matter over, and to consider whatwas best to be done, his two friends could give him little consolationto convey to the poor grandmother, who had built so much on theopportunities offered to the boy who she had hoped and believed wouldprove a credit and support to the declining years of herself and herhusband. 

The next morning, directly after breakfast, I announced my intention ofgoing immediately round to see cousin Serena, and asking her to go withme to Mrs. Petersen's, to ascertain if there were any hope that shewould take Tony and Matty, now that their father and mother hadapparently deserted them. I would provide for Matty, and cousin Serenawished to do the same for the boy. I was very eager now to carry out myplans, believing that the lions in the way were entirely removed, andthat no one could have any further objection to my doing so. 

But, to my great disgust, again there were dissenting voices; forfather and mother, aunt Emily, yes, and even impulsive, push-a-thing-ahead uncle Rutherford, said that it would not do to takeit for granted that the elder Blairs would not return and claim thechildren. It was not probable, they agreed, but it was more thanpossible; and all my elders were quite positive that the Petersenswould not undertake the care of Tony and Matty until they felt assuredthat the parents were not likely to meddle with them, or to maketrouble for those who had them in charge. 

"But I want to go and see, " I said, determined, if possible, to carrymy point at once, "if the Petersens _will_ do it--and they may. Thereis no use in leaving Matty unprovided for. What will she and Tony do ifMrs. Petersen will not keep them while it is uncertain whether that manand woman return or not?"

I spoke in rather an aggrieved tone, feeling somewhat inclined to thinkmy relatives hard-hearted. 

"Interview Mrs. Petersen, if you choose, my daughter, " said papa; "onlybe prepared for disappointment. "

"I only want to see Matty provided for, papa, " I answered, a littleashamed of my former pettishness. 

"And Matty, and Tony also, shall not be allowed to suffer, Amy, " saiduncle Rutherford sympathetically; mindful, perhaps, of his ownpropensity for forcing things to a wished-for conclusion at once. 

"I'll see cousin Serena, and take her views, anyway, " I said, my goodhumor restored; and I lost little time in carrying out my purpose. 

Miss Craven herself was so eager and earnest when in pursuit of anyplan, especially when it was for the benefit or pleasure of others, that I built much on her co-operation in the work of persuading thePetersens to take the cripples under their protection at once; and Iwas proportionately crestfallen when I found that she took the sameview of the case as my own family, saying also that she did not believethat Johnny and his wife would agree to my proposal, and that she didnot think it advisable that they should. However, she willinglyconsented to go with me to the Petersens. 

And, lo! I returned triumphant; for Mrs. Petersen, moved probably moreby the utter desolation of the children than by any arguments orpersuasions of mine, had consented without difficulty to take them forthe present, and to retain them so long as the parent Blairs did notreturn or claim them. 

And whatever his wife decided, that was sure to be the best in Johnny'seyes; so, her consent being gained, there was no fear of a dissentingvoice from him. Moreover, recollections of his own youth inclinedJohnny's heart to be merciful. 

"Und why for no, " he said, when appealed to on behalf of the desertedchildren, "why for no? Sometime ven mine fader und mutter die mit me, und dere vas nopody to gif leetle Johnny notings, vat should he do, ifdid not come some goot peoples vat take und eat him und sleep him? Idon' forget; und how I vas done py, I do mit der oders. Mine wife shevas so goot as a mutter for dem. "

The arrangement was concluded to the mutual satisfaction of thePetersens and myself, to say nothing of that of Tony, --Matty, as usual, showing no sign either of pleasure or the contrary. There was no timelost in settling the cripples in their new quarters, so superior in allrespects to any they had ever enjoyed before. There was nothing to bemoved from those they had occupied with their father and mother; not asplinter, not a shred, beyond the clothes they had on and those kept atMrs. Petersen's, was left to them; indeed, had there been, we nevershould have allowed them to claim it, nor would Mrs. Petersen haveallowed it to come into her tidy apartments. 

My day was occupied in a fever of energy, running from one place toanother, providing beds and clothing and other articles, --many ofwhich, had I not been checked by wiser counsels, would have beenunnecessary and unfit, --dragging cousin Serena with me; begging frommother, aunt Emily, and Mrs. Sanford, and drawing somewhat heavily onmy own resources. At last every thing was ready, to the serene contentof Mrs. Petersen, who now seemed to feel as if she had really adoptedthe children; and when evening came, I rested in the happyconsciousness that Matty was at last well provided for, as I would haveher, and that I had carried my point with comparatively little trouble. 

Jim beamed upon me every time he came near me, and he appeared to havea sense of partnership which was not a little amusing. 

Amy had "taken it awfully hard, " my brothers, Norman and Douglas, saidas they ran me on my new burst of philanthropy; but I was toocomplacent and well satisfied to be at all disturbed by their comments. 

Little did I dream, while dwelling on the future I had planned for thelittle hunchback, that a higher hand than mine was so soon to take allprovision for her into its own keeping. 

On the afternoon of the next day, as Milly and I, just dressed for avery different scene from that to which we were suddenly called, werepassing down the stairs to the carriage which was awaiting us, Jim camerushing up in a state of terrible excitement, with distressed, frightened eyes looking out of a deadly white face. 

"Miss Milly! Miss Milly!" he gasped, all out of breath as he was withrapid running, and addressing first the one to whom he was accustomedto turn in all emergencies or need for help, "Miss Milly, oh, comequick! No, no--it's Miss Amy I mean. Miss Amy, come quick; she wantsyou!"

"Who wants me? what is the matter?" asked both Milly and I in onebreath, and very much alarmed as we saw that there was really someserious trouble. 

"Matty! She'll be gone, miss. Oh, come quick!" he answered, still inthe same breathless manner. 

Visions of the drunken mother returning for the child, and striving totake her away against her will, at once presented themselves to myimagination; and now, indeed, my boasted interest in Matty was tried. Was I expected to face this worthless, angry woman, and rescue my poorlittle _protégée_? I could not do it; this was my first thought. Then, again, was I to abandon the poor child without one struggle, withoutone effort to prevail on the woman to leave the helpless child in thebetter hands into which she had fallen? Like a flash of lightning allthis passed through my brain; then I said to Jim faintly and with afaltering heart, --

"Is there any one there to help?"

"Yes, miss, " answered Jim; "there's Johnny, an' Mrs. Petersen, an' thepoliceman brought her in, an' the doctor. But, O Miss Amy, do makehaste! she wants you so bad, an' the doctor said to bring you quick. "

The doctor? Then was Matty ill, in danger?

"What is it, Jim? Do speak, " said Milly. "What _is_ the trouble? IsMatty ill? do you mean she is dying?"

"The doctor said so, Miss Milly. 'Twas the fire-engine. But _do_ bequick!"

A sickening horror came over me, and Milly turned as white as a sheet;but no more time was lost. We hurried into the carriage, bade Jim mountbeside the coachman, and, not even knowing whither we were bound, leftthe directions to him. 

But the drive to our unknown destination was not a long one; and in twominutes we drew up at Dutch Johnny's little flower-store, around whicha crowd had gathered, through which we had to push our way; or ratherthe policeman, who stood by the door, opened a way for us. 

Stretched upon the floor, in the midst of all the delicate verdure andbrilliant color in the florist's small store, lay Matty, her littleshorn head supported upon the breast of Mrs. Petersen, who was bendingover her with the tears running down her cheeks. At Mrs. Petersen'sside was Tony, leaning his head against her other shoulder, his face amixture of terror, grief, and bewilderment, both his hands claspingthose of Matty; around were grouped Johnny, a doctor, and a secondofficer. 

Matty's eyes were fixed upon the door; and as we entered, a suddengleam of intelligence and pleasure lighted them. She drew one of herhands from Tony's clasp, and stretched it out to me. 

Regardless of my light spring costume as it came in contact with thedamp floor of the greenhouse, I knelt in front of Mrs. Petersen, andbent over the poor little creature. Only once in my life had I seendeath; and then neither my affections nor my sympathies had beenenlisted, and my sensations, from the nature of the circumstances, hadbeen only those of horror and repulsion, and I had fled from the sight, while now the recollection of it was as some dreadful dream. Neverbefore had I seen a soul pass from the one life to the other; butcountless experiences could not have told me the truth more forciblythan did the look upon the face so small, so pitifully old andcare-worn. The hand of God's angel had already written it too plainlythere. 

A merciful angel, blotting out the traces of suffering and wearinessand oppression such as, happily, few of God's little ones are calledupon to bear; and imprinting in their place rest and peace unspeakable. 

For Matty was passing away without pain; the injuries she had receivedhad dulled sensation, while they were destroying life. 

She motioned for me to bend down, for she was almost past speech; thenraising both hands she tried to push back my hat. I flung it aside, andshe passed her hands over my hair again and again, and drew her thinfingers, from whose touch I did not shrink now, through the curlingrings about my forehead and temples; then her lips moved, and Tonystooped to listen. 

"She says hers 'more purtier, '" said the poor little brother, halfchoking. 

"Yes, Matty, " I said, "much prettier. You had the prettiest hair I eversaw. " Then, as a sudden inspiration flashed upon me, "I am going tothat barber to buy back your hair, Matty; and Tony shall have it forhis own to keep all his life. "

Her face brightened, and a smile, the first, the only smile I ever sawupon it, lightened it and almost transfigured it; then she turned hereyes from me, and looked around the little store till they rested upona beautiful pink azalea which stood at a little distance, --beautiful initself, but not for the purpose for which Matty wanted it. 

Taking one hand from my hair, while the fingers of the other stilllingered among my curls, she pointed to the plant, and looked wistfullyat Johnny. The good German was not usually quick of comprehension; buthe understood the mute appeal now, and he asked in a voice even morehusky than his usual guttural tones, --

"Vat you vants, Maddy? Some dem vlowers?"

She nodded assent, and the florist hastily cut a cluster, and put it inher hand. With fast-failing strength she tried to place it in my hair;but the effort was too much; and Milly, who stood behind me, assistedher to arrange the blossoms as she would have them. A look of intensesatisfaction passed over the pallid face, as though to her untutoredtaste this glaring adornment was all that could be desired; then thehands fell, and the lips moved. 

Both Tony and I tried to hear; but the only word I could hear was, "suffer. "

"Do you suffer so, poor little Matty?" I asked, for the doctor hadassured us that she did not. 

She shook her head feebly, and I heard the word "children. "

"What children? Do you mean you want to see my little sisters, Matty?"I asked. 

"No, miss, " interposed Tony. "I knows what she means. It is a teks washung up in the Sunday-school room right forninst where she sat, an' sheused to sit starin' at it like she hadn't nothin' else to think on; an'the lady what run the class teached it to her one day, 'cause it wasthe Golden Teks for that day, an' she's made me be a-hearin' ov it amany times since. She did set sich a heap by that teks as I niver saw, an' I'm thinkin' she wants yer to be a-repeatin' of it to her, miss. --Does yer, Matty?"

Again she nodded; and I said as well as my sobs would let me, "Sufferlittle children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such isthe kingdom of heaven. "

"More, more, " she whispered faintly; and I repeated over and over againthe sweet, gracious invitation which has lasted and shall last throughall time, gathering into those loving arms the little ones of everydegree, the beautiful and the uncouth, the happy and the oppressed;until to the echo of that golden text poor Matty's soul floated awaypeacefully and quietly. 

Unsightly, unhappy, and unloved, save for the faithful young brother towhom she was all in all, --to her, little had been given; and we maysurely believe that from her little would be required. 

So was Matty provided for, and the care of her taken from my hands andthose of generous Jim, who really seemed to mourn for her as though shehad been his own sister. 

The particulars of the circumstances which led to her death, as relatedby Johnny Petersen, Tony, and the policeman who had witnessed theaccident, --for accident it was, --were these. 

Matty had had the most unbounded terror of the fire-engines, --perhapsowing to the fact, stated by Tony, that her deformity had beenoccasioned by her being thrown from a window during a fire when she wasa very young child; and she probably associated the engines with allthe misery, both mental and physical, which she had ever sincesuffered. However that may be, the sight or sound of them wassufficient to rouse her from the state of dull apathy usual to her, into a paroxysm of alarm and nervousness; and if Tony were anywherewithin reach she always sought his side with some fancied idea ofprotection, until the terror was beyond her vision and hearing. 

Tony had been sent by Johnny on some errand, and was returning, and hadnearly reached the opposite corner of the avenue, when the sound of thegalloping hoofs and rattling wheels of a fire-engine were heard. 

Matty at her stand without the florist's shop was out of harm's way;but no sooner did the clatter of the approaching steamer strike herear, than she hastily rose from her seat, and started to meet Tony, who, pausing with boyish interest to watch the engine as it came up thecross street, did not see or heed his sister until it was too late. Johnny saw from within the shop, and started to hold back the child:but fear lent wings to Matty's usually slow and faltering footsteps;she heeded not or heard not his calls; and, before he could reach her, the engine swung around the corner into the avenue, and the already sosadly disfigured little form lay among the trampling hoofs and crushingwheels. 

Johnny himself had raised her, and carried her tenderly into his littlebower, where he laid her down among the flowers to breathe away the fewshort moments of her waning life. Seeming to be conscious at once ofwhat was before her, she had made Tony understand by signs and one ortwo faintly gasped words that she wanted me; and Jim, who had as usualstopped in on his way from school, had hastened to bring me. 

Sobered and sadly impressed, and yet with a feeling that Matty'srelease was a blessing beyond all expression, Milly and I returnedhome, with no heart, as may be supposed, for the entertainment forwhich we had been bound when we were called to her. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

JIM'S CONFESSION. 

Two days had passed, and poor little Matty had been laid to the restwhich knows no breaking; and all about Mrs. Petersen's rooms and thelittle flower-shop had settled to its usual routine, save that Tonystill abode with the kind Germans, and that he tended alone both thepeanut-stand and his roaster. His parents had not yet returned, norhave we to this day obtained, or indeed sought, any trace of them; allconcerned being only too glad that they have made no claim upon thelittle lame boy. Tony, now no longer a peanut-vender, has been promotedto the post of assistant and errand-boy to Johnny Petersen, who, withhis wife, treat the lad as if he were their own son, instead of alittle deserted waif cast by a merciful Providence into their kindhands. 

I had, happily, --or rather Edward had for me, --been able to rescueMatty's beautiful tresses from the hands of the conscienceless barber, who, when approached on the subject, demanded the most exorbitant pricefor them; but finding that the circumstances of the first sale wereknown to the gentleman, and being confronted with Tony, whom my brotherhad taken with him and left outside till he should ascertain whatadvance in price would be asked, he came down in his demands, andparted with them at exactly three times the sum he had paid for them, and which probably, in righteousness, he should have given to Matty. 

They were at once given to Tony, whose pride in them had been only lessthan that of his sister, and who, with a show of tender sentimentscarcely to be expected from one of his surroundings and antecedents, received them as a gift from the dead. Cheery, jolly little Tony! butfor this and other similar tokens of an affectionate heart, it mighthave been thought that he was wanting in feeling, so easily did hiselastic, joyous spirit throw off trouble; so completely did he extractall the sweet, and throw aside all the bitter, offered to him by a lotin life which most of us would not have envied. 

In the trouble and excitement over the sudden fate of the little"deform, " as Allie and Daisy had called her, we had for the moment putaside the question of what was to be done with Theodore Yorke; but nowit was to be decided. 

That the boy could be touched; that he was not lost to all trace ofhuman or decent feeling, --was shown by the trouble, and, hisgrandparents thought, remorse, which he testified on hearing of Matty'stragical death; and he would even have tried to make some amends toTony, had not the lame boy absolutely refused to let him come near him;while the florist, seeing him from within the shop, rushed out uponhim, and threatened him with some more of the same "veesic" as he hadadministered before, seeming inclined to do so whether or no; andTheodore, plainly thinking discretion the better part of valor, hadlost no time in putting a safe distance between himself and thepugilistic old German. 

Not wishing to discuss the subject in the presence of the culprit orhis distressed and anxious grandmother, uncle Rutherford had toldCaptain Yorke to come again to our house in the evening of the day onwhich Matty was buried; having first taken counsel with father andmother and aunt Emily as to the best course to be pursued for allinterested. The captain seemed quite to have lost his usualindependence and courage, and had put himself and his family into thehands of those who he knew were good friends to him and his. 

"I didn't let on to the boy, Gov'nor an' Mr. Livingstone, " he said, rubbing up his grizzled locks as was his wont when talking, "I didn'tlet on to the boy as we was thinkin' he was to be took from school; butI'm glad to say he was consid'able cut up along of that poor littlehunchback, an' his bein' so mean to her jes' afore she was took; an'I'm thinkin' he has some kind of feelin's in respecks of her, all themore mebbe as he thinks he's goin' to get off 'thout any morepunishment than what he got; an' I don't bear no grudge agin that Dutchflower-man for what he done to him, --an' isn't he a Dutchy though!'Pears like he ain't never studied no grammar nor good English, nornothin', an' them's my opinions. He do talk the funniest, an' mos'times I don't hardly make no sense of it. But, " with a heavy, long-drawn sigh, "what was yer both of ye thinkin' it was bes' to do?"

"We have thought, captain, " answered uncle Rutherford, to whom fatherleft all explanations, "we have thought it would be best and wisest, ifyou and his grandmother and mother agree, to send Theodore to aboarding-school on Long Island, where he will be kept under very strictdiscipline and supervision. "

"Supervision! an' what may that be, Gov'nor, askin' yer pardon?" saidthe old man, as uncle Rutherford paused for a moment to see how hewould take his proposal. 

Uncle Rutherford explained, and, seeing that he must confine himself tosimple words, went on, --

"We know the gentleman in charge, and believe that he will have anespecial eye to Theodore if we ask him to do so; and he is an excellentteacher, and will bring him on in his studies. If Theodore does wellthere for a year or two, and shows himself fit to be trusted, we maythen remove him to a different and higher school, where he may stillfit himself to be a man, and a help and comfort to you. He has hisfuture in his own hands; let him do well, and Mr. Livingstone and Iwill see that he is provided for till he is fitted to take care ofhimself; but an opportunity which might have been his"--O, dear uncleRutherford, why need you have told this?--"must pass to another who hasbetter deserved it. Do you feel that you can part with the boy, and lethim go to boarding-school?"

"I reckon I ain't goin' to have much feelin's agin it, " answered thecaptain, whose face had assumed an expression of intense relief asuncle Rutherford unfolded his plans. "I don't set such a heap by theboy as to set my face against his goin' to the boardin'-school, if itdo be stric'; it'll do him good; an' he ain't got roun' me so's theother gran'children have, an' I'd a sight rather we had Jim for agran'boy than this one, if he is my own flesh an' blood, as they say. Iain't never took no stock in him sence the first day he come, when Isee him take his little sister's bigger cake unbeknownst to the littleone, an' put his'n what was not so big in its place. "

There were no family secrets or shortcomings which would not come tolight when the captain was on the high-road to such disclosures; for awise and discreet reticence was not his distinguishing characteristic, as we know. 

"I hope he'll do well, an' turn out a credit to ye, Gov'nor an' Mr. Livingstone, " he continued, as though washing his hands of the boy, though all the while the trouble dwelt upon his weather-beaten oldface; "but _I_ bet on Jim, an' I wish it was him had the chance yespeak of. Mebbe it is, now; an' if it was, it'd be 'most a set-off aginthe other not havin' it. I set a lot on Jim!"

And the old man looked inquiringly at uncle Rutherford, who was not, however, _quite_ so indiscreet as his interlocutor, and kept his owncounsel so far as this. 

So it was settled, then. Theodore was to be removed from the school hewas attending at present, and sent to the boarding-school, where hewould be under far closer restraint than he could be in the city, oreven at home with his grandparents; and there could be no question thatthe old man felt that a great responsibility was taken from hisshoulders. 

"I wish it was time to go home. I mean, I wish Miss Yorke was cured upso's we could go home, " he said. "I reckon I've seen about all there isto see in this town; an' it's my opinions I might 'bout as well bethinkin' of the seines an' poles, an' lobster-pots, an' so on. Coursethey wants lookin' arter 'cordin' to custom this time o' year; an'Jabez he's took so to carpenterin' an' what he calls cabiny-makin', he's goin' to let 'em slip, Jabez is; an' come time for settin' 'emthey ain't goin' to be ready, an' I reckon I oughter to be there; butthe doctor, he says four weeks more for Miss Yorke, an' he'll let hergo cured. She's pretty first-rate now, an' she don't walk no more witha cane, on'y comin' up an' down the stairs. I never did see such folksto have long ladders of stairs as York folks is; when I fust come, Iused to think I wouldn't never get to the top of 'em; an' even the poorfolks here has to go a-pilin' theirselves up atop of stairs as high asa mast, one lot atop of another. Ye get up near the sky there; not thatfolks is so good an' heavenly; no, no; there's on'y a few of 'em thatway;" with an approving nod at father and uncle Rutherford, and acomprehensive wave of his hand, as if to say that he excepted from hisadverse criticism both of his present companions, and all who belongedto them; "on'y a few; but they're pintin' straight for the NewJerusylem, "--another nod pointed the compliment. "Where was I? Oh, themstairs. Wa'l, as I was a-sayin', I reckon I've had 'bout enuf of 'em, an' I'd like to be home where I can be down onto the flat groun' an'not like to what's his name's coffin, what I heerd the boys speakin'about, what got hitched half way up to heaven an' stuck there. He's afable feller, ov course; Mahomet, that's his name; there ain't neverbeen no such doin's sence miracle days 'cept in the theayters an' themplaces. An' t'other night Miss Dodge, she asked me would I go to theopery, an' I says 'yes. ' I was boun' to see all there was to see, an'we went; an' such a goin' up stairs as there was there, up an' up an'up, an' when we got there I thought we might ha' stopped sooner; fordown below there was lots of folks sittin' an' standin', an' I askedMiss Dodge why she didn't stop onto some of them floors, three or fourof 'em below, an' she kinder smirked, an' says it costs lots to go inthere. Wa'l, I couldn't make out what they was at on the platform, --theplay actors; it wasn't half so nice as the mother-in-law actin'; theydid all their talkin' to singin', an' they died singin', an' all sortsof things; an' there was a old man got young an' fell spooney on agirl; an' they all got foolisher an' foolisher, an' the devil wasthere, an' such a mix-up; an' bimeby the girl, she died in a prison, an' angel actin' folks come down an' took her up, --leastways was takin'her up to heaven, --an' there come a hitch, an' there they stuck, halfup, half down. Miss Dodge said there must ha' been somethin' wrong withthe machinery what h'isted 'em; an' it made me think of that feller'scoffin, so I sung out, 'Mahomet's coffin!' an' the folks, some larfed, they was mostly boys an' young fellers, an' some few below looked up;an' Miss Dodge, she was awful affronted, an' she says she was gladenough we wasn't below, she would ha' been too mortified. W'al, thatain't nothin' to do with Miss Yorke, for she wasn't along; she couldn'tha' clumb so high; an' I never was a man of many words, so I'll get tomy p'int. As I was a-sayin', Miss Yorke, she can't go home yet, an' shecan't be left alone, so I've got to stay on. "

Here mamma went to the rescue; for, as before, the rest of the familywere gathered in the next room, and heard all that had passed. The twogentlemen had allowed the captain to ramble on, partly because heamused them and us, partly because they knew it was of little use totry to stop him after he had once started to expound his views on menand things. 

"Captain, " said mamma, joining the two in the library, "Mrs. Rutherfordand I thought you were growing weary of the city, and wanted to go backhome; so we have arranged a little plan which may suit you both, andwill certainly suit me well. I have a great deal of sewing to be donenow, which I should like to have done in the house, and Mrs. Yorke issuch a beautiful seamstress that I should be glad of her assistance. Suppose that she comes here. I can give her accommodation on thebasement floor, so that she need not go up and down stairs; and Mammyand my own seamstress will gladly do all that is needful for her. Thenyou can go home as soon as you choose. Will you ask her?"

The captain gazed for a minute into mother's face, then looked from herto father, from him to uncle Rutherford, and drew a long breath. 

"Wa'l!" he ejaculated, "when you folks gets histed to heaven, I reckonthere ain't goin' to be no hitch in the histin'. An' them's myopinions. "

Having delivered himself of these "opinions, " he rose, shook hands withmother, father, and uncle Rutherford, a long hard shake, expressive ofhis feelings; came into the room where the rest of us were gathered, and went through the same ceremony all round; returned to the libraryand repeated it, then once more back to the drawing-room for a secondpumping of each arm, and finally managed to convey himself away; thelast words which father heard as he closed the door behind him being, "No hitch in _that_ histin'. "

Two days after, Mrs. Yorke was comfortably settled in our basement, andindustriously plying her needle; the captain was on his way home bywater, where he would not be apt to go astray; while at a very fewhours' notice Theodore had been removed from the one school, and sentto the other. 

"Miss Milly, " said Jim, meeting my sister in the hall on the afternoonof the day on which he had learned that his rival had been taken fromthe school they had both attended, and speaking in evident butrepressed excitement, "Miss Milly, they say Theodore Yorke has leftschool for good. Has he, Miss Milly?"

"He has left your school, and been sent to another, Jim, where you willnot be likely to meet him soon again, " answered Milly. 

"And they say it's an awful strict school, Miss Milly, a kind of abad-boy school, where a feller don't get half so much chance as he doesin ours. "

"I think the discipline is very strict, Jim, " replied his youngmistress. 

"And, " wistfully, "he was sent there because of what he done--I mean, did--to Matty?"

Even in the midst of excitement, Jim was becoming careful to correcthimself when he lapsed inadvertently into any inaccuracies of speech. 

Milly hesitated for a moment, but she thought that the lesson mightpossibly point a moral, and she answered, --

"Yes, for that especially, Jim. It was his crowning offence; butTheodore is not a good, upright boy, and it was thought better toremove him to another and a stricter school. "

"Thank you'm, " said the lad as he walked away with a crestfallen airwhich much surprised Milly. Was he going to take so much to heart theabsence of the boy between whom and himself there had waged a constantstate of warfare ever since they had first met? Amy must be right, thought Milly, and there must be something behind these singular moodsof Jim's. Was it possible that he, too, had fallen into temptation andsin, and, seeing with what consequences these had been fraught forTheodore, was now trembling for himself? She could hardly believe this, Jim had proved himself so frank and upright; but there must besomething which he was hiding, and this was the only solution at whichshe could arrive. 

But she was not kept much longer in doubt. 

Jim slept over the matter upon his mind and conscience, and the nextmorning, which happened to be Saturday, and therefore a holiday, cameto her, and requested a private interview. 

The request was readily granted; and, taking him aside, Milly waitedwith more anxiety than can well be appreciated by those who did notknow her interest in the boy. 

"Miss Milly, " he said, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, and twisting his hands nervously together as he stood before her, "MissMilly, I've got something I ought to tell you. "

"Well, Jim?" said Milly encouragingly. 

"I don' know what you're goin' to think of me, miss, " he answered witha very shamed face. 

"If you have done wrong, Jim, and are ready to confess it now, I shallnot be very severe with you, --you know that, Jim, " said Milly. "Youare in some trouble. I have seen for a long time that you had somethingon your mind; if you tell me, I may be able to help you out of it. "

"I ain't in no scrape, Miss Milly, if that's what you mean, " said theboy; "only--only--it's a mean kind of a thing, an' I've got to tell. 'Tain't fair for me to keep it to myself any longer. Bill's the onlyother feller knows. It's going to take my chance, for sure; but all thesame, I've got to tell. I ain't so afraid of you as of--some others. "He paused again, and again Milly had to re-assure and encourage him, bidding him remember that others as well as herself had his good andinterest at heart, and that he had already tested these and not foundthem wanting. 

"I know, Miss Milly, " he answered, "but I can't bear for you or none ofthe family to think me a sneak, an' that's what I feel I've been now. 'Twasn't fair, an' now I know it. I did know it all along, on'y Iwouldn't let on. "

"Well, come, Jim, " said Milly, determined to bring him to the pointwithout any more of this shilly-shallying which was exceedingly unlikeJim; "you must tell me at once if you wish to do so, for I have anengagement, and shall have to leave you very soon. "

"Well, miss, " he replied, thus urged, "I found out--don't you beashamed of me, Miss Milly--I found out about how Mr. Rutherford wasgoin' to give a big thing, some kind of a thing in the way of eddication, to me or Theodore Yorke, whichever turned out best this year at school, an' how he thought Theodore was a sneak, an' me too hot-tempered, an'always ready for a fight, --an' how he was goin' to see which did thebest, not on'y in his learnin', but in his conduck, quite without usknowin' about what was afore us, an' then give that one this big thing. And, Miss Milly, you an' Mr. Rutherford, an' the rest of the fam'ly, maybe, thought me doin' well, an' takin' care of my temper. An' maybeso I was; but it was 'cause I was _bound_ to beat Theodore, an' not lethim get that prize. I felt awful mean all along; but now Theodore's cutup so, an' got sent off, an' he never knew nothin' about it, or maybehe'd done better, an' I don't feel it's fair in me. I knew, an' hedidn't. I stood a lot from Theodore, an' didn't fly out at him on'yonce or twice that you know about; but I wouldn't ha' stood it, an'there's many a time I would ha' fought him an' the other boys, too, on'y for thinkin' of that. So, you see, I did get more chance at thebeginning than him, an' 'tain't fair in me. An' I thought to myself, Ifyou're goin' to do a mean thing like this to get a hitch in life, howyou goin' to get fit to be President? If you see somebody doin' asneaky or dishonest thing, you can't have the face to pull him up an'send him to prison, "--as may be seen, Jim's ideas of the Presidentialauthority were that it was unlimited and autocratic, --"when you knowyou got there yourself on the sly; an' I wouldn't feel fit for it. Sothere wasn't no comfort in it one way or another; an' I made up my mindI'd tell you, an' you can tell Mr. Rutherford; an' anyhow I'll come outfair an' even chances with Theodore. Mr. Rutherford will maybe thinkthis is worse than fightin' an' blowin' out?" interrogatively andwistfully. 

Milly had let him go on without interruption when she had once succeededin starting him, and had asked no questions; now she said, --

"I think, Jim, that Mr. Rutherford will be pleased that you had so farthe mastery over yourself that you would not take what you consideredan unfair advantage over Theodore. I am glad, truly glad that you havesucceeded in learning to control your temper; but still more glad thatyour sense of honor and right led you to tell of this. But how did youlearn of Mr. Rutherford's plan?"

Jim related how Bill, overhearing the conversation, or at least a partof it, on the evening on which the matter had been discussed by thefamily, had been the medium of communication, and how they had bothresolutely guarded their knowledge of it until now; when Jim had toldhis comrade that he _must_ make confession, and put himself, as hethought, on equal ground with his antagonist and unconscious rival. 

"I didn't do it for no good feelin' to Theodore, Miss Milly, " he added, "for I b'lieve I just _hate_ Theodore. I didn't feel none too good tohim ever since first I seen him, an' the more I saw him the worse I gotto like him; but all the same, I'd got to be fair to him when itcome--came--to his chance bein' lost. If I couldn't take care of myselfthat way, I ain't goin' to be fit to take care of these United States. Miss Milly, you'll tell Mr. Rutherford? I could tell you, but Icouldn't tell him. "

Milly answered him that she would be the bearer of his confession; andleft him, much relieved herself to find that he had been guilty ofnothing more serious, and thankful from her very heart to see that herteachings and his newly-awakened sense of justice would not allow himto take unfair advantage of another, even though that other might beone whom he considered an enemy. She lost no time in seeking uncleRutherford, and telling him all, so that the boy might not be insuspense longer than was necessary; for she well knew that he wouldfind a lenient judge in our uncle. 

Nor was she wrong. Uncle Rutherford sent for Jim, and taking the boy'shand, shook it heartily, as he said, "My boy, you have gained themastery over yourself, and no man can achieve a greater victory. Icould wish that you had tried to keep control over your temper from abetter and higher motive than the wish to outstrip Theodore; but we maytrust that you will set that before yourself now. Go on as you havebegun, and the scholarship is yours in good time. My best wishes gowith you, and I sincerely trust that you may win the prize. "