Kitabı oku: «A Sunny Little Lass», sayfa 4
Down he dropped in the inner point of the triangular floor and almost before his head had made itself a pillow of his arm he was sound asleep. Billy flung himself beside his mate and, also, slept; and though Glory intended to keep her eyes wide open “till grandpa comes,” she placed herself near them and rested her own tired head on Billy’s shoulder, and, presently, followed their example.
Half an hour later, the Lane policeman sauntered by, glanced into the dim interior, and saw the group of indistinct forms huddled together in dreamless slumber on their bed of bare boards. Then he softly closed the door upon them, murmuring in pity, “Poor little chummies! Life’s goin’ to be as hard for ’em as the floor they lie on. But the Lane’d seem darker ’n ’tis if they wasn’t in it.”
CHAPTER VII
A Guardian Angel
City newsboys are early astir, and the shadows had but begun to lift themselves from Elbow Lane when Billy punched Nick in the ribs to rouse him and, with finger on lip, pointed to Glory still asleep.
The very poor pity the poor, and with a chivalric kindness which would have done credit to better reared lads, these two waifs of the streets stole softly from the littlest house without waking its small mistress.
When they were out upon the sidewalk, Billy shook his head and whispered, as if even there he might disturb her, “Poor little kid! He ain’t never comin’ back, sure! An’ me an’ you ’s got the job o’ lookin’ after her, same ’s he’d a liked. He was good to me, the cap’n was. An’ I’m thinkin’ Meg-Laundress’s ’ll be the best place to stow her. Hey?”
“Meg can’t. She’s chuck full. They ain’t a corner o’ her room but what’s slep’ in, an’ you know it,” responded Nick, hitching his buttonless knickers a trifle higher beneath the string-waistband which kept them in place.
“Where then, pard?”
Nick hesitated. On the day before he had developed a generosity which had surprised himself quite as much as it had Glory; but, if allowed room, generosity is a plant of rapid growth, so that now the once niggardly boy was ready with a plan that was even more astonishing. His thin face flushed and he pretended to pick a sliver from his foot as he answered:
“Let’s me an’ you hire the littles’ house an’ pay the rent ourselves an’ Goober Glory do our cookin’ an’ sewin’ an’–an’–quit yer foolin’, Billy Buttons! This ain’t no make-b’lieve, this ain’t. I plumb mean it.”
For, the instant of its suggestion, this wild scheme had sent the partner of Nick Dodd’s fortunes to turning somersaults which would have befitted an acrobat. To put his head where his feet should be was Billy’s only way of relieving his emotion and he brought his gymnastics to an end, some distance down the Lane, by assuming a military uprightness and bowing profoundly to Nick, who joined him.
“That’s the ticket, pard! We’ll do it! We’ll do it! Wish to goodness I’d been the one to hatch it out, but does ye proud, parson. An’ how ’bout it? S’pose we two could sleep in his hammick?” asked Billy, his eagerness already outstripping Nick’s, as his liberality had always been greater.
Nick shook his head. Launched upon a course of reckless extravagance, he now hesitated at nothing.
“Nope. Nothin’. What’s the matter buyin’ ’nother? An’, say, we can sling ’em one top th’ other, like them berths in a sleepin’ car, an’ take turns which ’d be upper, which lower. ’Fore winter we’d get in a blanket an’ piller, though wouldn’t care much for ’em, in such a snug place, an’ – ”
“An’,” interrupted Billy, “we’d go snooks on the grub. Glory’d do her part chuckin’ in, ’sides the housekeep. My! ’Twould be a home, a reg’lar home, ’at I hain’t never had! Cracky! I–I ’most hope he never does come now, though fer Take-a-Stitch–maybe – ”
“He won’t never. Don’t ye scare on it, never. Say! Let’s hurry through our sellin’ an’ get it fixed. An’ we’re late, a’ready.”
“All right!” and with visions of a delightful importance, that made them feel as if they were grown men, the little fellows scampered away through the morning twilight to obtain their day’s supply of newspapers, still damp from the press, for they had long ago learned that ’tis the early newsboy who catches the nickels and of these they must now have many. Neither realized that a property owner, even of a “littlest house,” would not be apt to trust it to a pair of youngsters like themselves, though to their credit it was that had their dream become reality, they would have done their utmost to follow the example of the former tenant to “pay as you go.”
They had long been shrilling themselves hoarse with their cries of “Sun’ ’Eral’Jour’Wor–rul’! Pape’s!” before Glory woke and found herself alone. By the light in the room and the hunger she felt, she knew that it must again be very late; and a feeling that her grandfather would be displeased with her indolence sent her to her feet with such speed that she awoke Bo’sn, till then slumbering soundly.
Bo’sn was no longer young and, stiff from an all day’s tramp–for he had faithfully followed the little girl’s tireless search of yesterday–he rose slowly and stretched himself painfully, with a growl at his own aching joints. Then he sniffed suspiciously at the floor where the newsboys had slept and, nosing his master’s hammock, howled dismally.
Having slept without undressing, Glory’s toilet was soon made and though a dash of cold water banished drowsiness from her eyes it made them see more clearly how empty and desolate the “littlest house” had now become, so desolate that she could not stay in it and running to Meg-Laundress’s crowded apartment, she burst in, demanding, “Has he come? Has anybody in the Lane seen my grandpa?”
Meg desisted from spanking the “baddest o’ them twins” and set the small miscreant upon the sudsy floor before she answered, cheerfully, “Not yet, honey. ’Tain’t scurce time to be lookin’ fer him, I reckon. When them old sailors gets swappin’ yarns needn’t – ”
“But, Meg dear, he ain’t at any one of their houses. I’ve been to the hull lot–two er three times to each one, a-yest’day–an’ he wasn’t. An’ they think–I dastn’t think what they think! An’ I thought maybe–he always liked you, Meg-Laundress, an’ said you done his shirts to beat. Oh, Meg, Meg, what shall I do? Whatever shall I do?”
The warm-hearted washerwoman thrilled with pity for the forsaken child yet she put on her most brilliant surface-smile and answered promptly:
“Do? Why, do jest what Jane an’ me laid out to have ye do. An’ that is, eat a grand breakfast. We ain’t such old friends o’ the cap’n’s an’ yet go let his folks starve. Me an’ Jane, we done it together, an’ the grocer-man threw in the rolls. There’s a cunnin’ little piece o’ porterhouse’s ever ye see, an’ ’taties–biled to the queen’s taste with their brown jackets on. Two of ’em, an’ no scantin’, nuther. No, you small rapscallions, ye clear out! ’Tain’t none your breakfasts, ye hear? It’s Goober Glory’s an’–you all, the half-dozen on ye, best clear out way beyant th’ Elbow an’ watch out fer the banan’ man! If he comes to the Lane, ma’s got a good wash on hand, an’–who knows?”
Away scampered Meg’s brood of children, assorted sizes, yet one and all with a longing for “banan’ cheap!” and sure that no amount of coaxing would give them a share in the savory breakfast which the two toiling women had provided for Glory.
Left comfortably free from crowding, Meg bustled about, removing from the small oven the belated “steak an’ ’taties” which had long been drying there. In this removal, she clumsily tilted the boiler in which her “wash” was bubbling and flavored the meal with a dash of soapsuds, but Glory was more hungry than critical, and far more grateful than either. Smiles and tears both came as she caught Meg’s wet hand and kissed it ecstatically, which action brought a suspicious moisture to Meg’s own eyes and caused her to exclaim, with playful reproof:
“If you ain’t the beatin’est one fer huggin’ an’ kissin’! Well, then, set to; an’ hear me tell: this is what me an’ Jane has settled, how the very minute the cap’n heaves in sight down the Lane, on I claps the very pattron o’ that same stuff ye’re eatin’ for him, an’ calls it breakfast, dinner, er supper, as the case is. When folks have been off visitin’, like he has, they can’t ’spect to find things ready to hand to their own houses, same’s if they’d been round all the time. Now, eat, an’ ‘let your victuals stop yer mouth’!”
This was luxurious food for one accustomed to an oatmeal diet and Glory heartily enjoyed it, although she wished she could have given it to her grandfather instead, but she wasn’t one to borrow trouble and relied upon Meg’s word that a similar repast should be forthcoming when the seaman required it. She did not know that the very odor of the food set the washerwoman’s own mouth to watering and that she had to swallow fast and often, to convince herself that her own breakfast of warmed-over coffee and second-hand rolls was wholly sufficient. In any case, both she and Posy Jane had delighted in their self-sacrifice for the little “Queen of the Lane,” in their hearts believing that the child was now orphaned, indeed.
It is amazing how, when one is extremely hungry, even two whole potatoes will disappear, and very speedily Glory found that the cracked plate from which she had eaten was entirely empty, but, also, that the uncomfortable hunger had disappeared with its vanished contents. She sprang up, ran to the spigot, washed and wiped the plate, and restored it to its place on Meg’s scanty cupboard, then announced:
“I shall tell my grandpa how good all you dear, dear folks has been to me while he–he was off a-visitin’. An’ he’ll do somethin’ nice for you, too, he will. My grandfather says ‘giff-gaff makes good friends,’ an’ ‘one kind turn ’serves another.’ He knows a lot, grandpa does; an’ me an’ him both thanks you, Meg-Laundress–you darlin’!”
Away around the big neck of the woman at the tub went Glory’s slender arms, and when the patient toiler released herself from this inconvenient embrace, there was something besides soapsuds glistening on her hot cheek.
“Bless ye an’ save ye, honey sweetness, an’ may yer guardian angel keep ye in close sight, the hull endurin’ time!” cried the laundress, wiping her eyes with a wet towel to disguise that other moisture which had gathered in them. “An’ now, be off with ye to the little Eyetalian with the high-soundin’ name. Sure, ’twas Nick, the parson, hisself, what seen them fifty-five centses was in the right hands, an’ not scattered by that power o’ young ones as was hangin’ round when the lady give ’em.”
“Did he take them? Oh, I’m so glad an’ it’s queer he should ha’ forgot to tell me last night. Never mind, though. I ain’t goin’ to peddle to-day. I shan’t peddle no more till I find grandpa. I couldn’t. I couldn’t holler even, worth listenin’. An’ who’d buy off a girl what can’t holler?”
“Hmm. I don’ know. Hollerin’s the life o’ your trade, same’s rub-a-dub-dubbin’ ’s the life o’ mine, er puttin’ the freshest flower to the front the bunch is o’ Jane’s. But, land, ‘Queenie,’ you best not wait fer the cap’n. Best keep a doin’, an’ onct you’re at it again, the holler’ll come all right. Like myself–jest let me stan’ up afore this here tub an’ the wash begins to do itself, unbeknownst like. Don’t you idle. Keep peddlin’ er patchin’, though peddlin’s the least lonesome, an’ the time’ll fly like lightnin’. It’s them ’at don’t do nothin’ ’at don’t know what to do. Ain’t many them sort in the Lane, though, thank the dear Lord. Hey? What?”
For Glory still lingered in the doorway and her face showed that she had no intention of following the laundress’s most sensible advice. So when that loquacious woman paused so long that the little girl “could get a word in edgewise,” she firmly stated:
“No Meg, dear Meg, I shan’t peddle a single goober till I’ve found my grandpa. Every minute of every hour I’m awake I shall keep a-lookin’. He hain’t got nobody but me left an’ I hain’t got nobody but him. What belongs, I mean. ’Course, they’s all you dear Lane folks an’ I love you, every one. But me an’ him–I–I must, must find him. I’m goin’ to start right away now, an’–thank you, thank you an’ dear Posy Jane–an’–good-bye!”
This time it was Meg who caught the other in her arms and under pretense of smoothing tumbled curls, hugged the child in motherly yearning over her; then she gave her a very clean-smelling, sudsy kiss and pushed her toward the door, crying rather huskily:
“Well, run away now, any gate. If to peddlin’ ’twould be best; if to s’archin’ fer one old blind man in this big Ne’ York what’s full of ’em as haymows o’ needles, so be it, an’ good luck to ye. But what am I to be preachin’ work an’ practicin’ play? Off with ye an’ hender me no more!”
So to the tune of a vigorous rub-a-dub-dub, Glory vanished from her good friend’s sight, though the hearts of both would have ached could they have foreseen how long delayed would be their next meeting.
Comforted and now wholly hopeful that her determined search would have a speedy, happy ending, Take-a-Stitch hurried back to the littlest house whose narrow door stood open to its widest, yet she paused on the threshold, amazed, incredulous, not daring to enter and scarcely daring to breathe, lest she disturb the wonderful vision which confronted her.
For the desolate home was no longer desolate. There was one within who seemed to fill its dim interior with a radiance and beauty beyond anything the child of the Lane had ever dreamed. Meg’s words and wish returned to her and, clasping her hands, she cried in rapture, “Oh! it’s come! My Guardian Angel!”
CHAPTER VIII
With Bonny as Guide
Glory was truthful and loving, and her grandfather had taught her to be clean, honest, and industrious, but, beyond this, she had had little training. She knew that Meg-Laundress and Posy Jane both firmly believed in “Guardian Angels” who hovered about human beings to protect and prosper them. She had inferred that these “Angels” were very beautiful but had never asked if they were ever visible or, if so, what form they took.
Glory felt now that she would never need to ask about the “Angels” for the small creature before her answered all these unspoken inquiries; a mite of a thing, in silken white, with glistening golden curls and the roundest, loveliest of big blue eyes, who sat on the floor smiling and gurgling in an unknown language, yet gravely regarding Bo’sn who, firm upon his haunches, as gravely regarded this astonishing intruder. The tiny visitor was so unlike any crony captain or ragged newsboy that the dog was perplexed, yet as evidently pleased, for his eyes were shining, his mouth “laughing” and his stump of a tail doing its utmost to wag. As Glory appeared in the doorway, he cast one welcoming glance over his shoulder, then with the same intensity, returned to his contemplation of the child.
After all, it was not an “Angel” from a spiritual world, but a wonderfully fair and winning little human being. From whence she had come and why, she was too young to explain and Glory was too delighted to care. Here she was, gay, shining, and wholly undisturbed, and, as the little goober girl appeared, the baby lifted her face, laughing, and lisping: “Bonny come!”
“Angels” could use human speech then; and now her awe of the visitant vanished and down went Take-a-Stitch beside Bo’sn and clasped the little one close and kissed and caressed it to her heart’s content, which meant much to Glory, because even grandpa had objected to overmuch caressing, though this newcomer appeared to take kissing as a matter of course and to like it.
“Oh! you darlin’, darlin’, sweetest ‘Angel’! Have you truly come to live with me?”
“Bonny come!” answered the other, thrusting her tiny hands into Glory’s own curls and pressing her dewy lips to Glory’s cheek.
“Oh, you precious, precious, sweetest, darlin’est one. Oh, won’t grandpa be pleased! An’ you’ll help–that’s what you come for, ain’t it?–you’ll help to find him. Why, if you’re a truly ‘Angel,’ you know this minute ’t ever is just where to search, an’ so ’twon’t be more’n a bit of a while ’fore me an’ you an’ him is all back here together in this splendid littlest house, a ’livin’ in peace an’ dyin’ in grease an’ bein’ buried under a pot o’ taller,’ like Nick’s stories end; only I guess we’ll do without the grease an’ taller, ’cause I hate dirt an’ ‘Angels’ do, ’course. Oh, let’s start right away! Why–why–we might be home again, lickety-cut, if we did. Shall we go to find grandpa, ‘Angel’?”
The stranger toddled to her feet, Bo’sn watching the operation with keenest interest, but once upon them, there ensued delay, for, whoever this unknown might be, Glory herself was a very human little girl. She could not keep her fingers from feeling and examining the exquisite garments which clothed her visitor’s form, and at each fresh discovery of daintiness, from the silken coat to the snowy shoes, her exclamations of wonder and admiration grew more intense. Before she had finished, she felt a reflex grandeur from her richly attired guest and unconsciously gave her own scanty skirt an airy flirt, as if it had suddenly become of proper length and color.
Giving the “Angel” a fresh embrace, she clasped its pink fingers and started to follow wherever it might lead, with Bo’sn close behind.
So intent was she upon her small “Guardian,” that she did not observe a man entering the lane from the further end, else she would have recognized him for the owner of the littlest house, come in person to inspect his property and to learn if his rent would be forthcoming when due; also, to prepare the captain for possible removal, in case a certain deal, then in progress, should transfer the three-cornered building to other hands and purposes.
But the gentleman saw Glory and wondered how she had come to have in charge, in such a neighborhood, a little child so unsuited to it. By just the one minute’s time which would have brought him to the littlest house ere Glory left it, she missed some further enlightenment on the subject of “Guardian Angels,” and the sad news that she had not only lost grandparent but home as well; for, seeing the place open, at the mercy of any Elbow tramp who might enter and despoil it, the landlord at once decided that, sale or no sale, he would get rid of so careless a tenant. Crossing to the basement of Meg-Laundress, he made some inquiries concerning the Becks and was told all which that talkative woman knew or suspected.
“An’ none of us in the Lane ever looks to see him back, sir, an’ that’s the fact. But whatever’s to become o’ his little girl, when she finds out, land knows,” she concluded.
“Oh, plenty of institutions to take in just such as she and she’d be a deal better off than living from hand to mouth as she has always done. The captain must have been a fine man once and so far–so far–has had his rent money ready when it was due; but I made it too small, a great deal too small. I was a fool for sympathy and let my heart run away with my head.
“Know anybody would take in the old man’s few traps and take care of them till something develops?” continued the landlord. “He is dead, of course. Must have been him was run over that time; but they might sell for a trifle for the child’s benefit. I wouldn’t mind having that time-keeping arrangement of bells myself. Was really quite ingenious. I might as well take it, I reckon, on account of loss of occupancy. Yes, I will take it. And if he should return–but he won’t–you tell him, my good woman, how it was and he can look to me to settle. Know anybody has room for his things?”
“No, I don’t. An’ if I did, I wouldn’t tell ye,” answered Meg, testily, and as a relief to her indignation cuffed her youngest born in lieu of him upon whom she wished she dared bestow the correction.
But the corner grocery-man was more obliging and better supplied with accommodations for Captain Beck’s belongings. In truth, seeing that the landlord was determined, whether or no, to remove them from the littlest house, he felt that he must take them in and preserve them from harm against their owner’s claiming them. He thought, with Meg, that harm had certainly befallen the blind seaman and that they would see him no more, but he also felt that Glory’s rights should be protected to the utmost. With this idea in mind, he stoutly objected to parting with the bell-timepiece, and even offered to make up any arrears of rent which the other could rightly claim.
“Oh! that’s all right,” said the landlord, huffishly. “That can rest, but I wish you’d call a cart and get the traps out now, while I’m here to superintend.”
“I’m with you!” cried the grocer, with equal spirit; and so fully fell in with the other’s wishes that, before Glory had been an hour absent from the only home she could remember, it had been emptied of its few, but well loved, furnishings and the key had been turned upon its solitude. Thus ended, too, Nick’s brief brilliant dream of household proprietorship.
However, all this fresh trouble was unknown. Whither her “Angel” led, she was to follow; and this proved to be in wholly a different direction from that dark end of the Lane toward the bridge.
For a time the small, unconscious guide toddled along, making slow progress toward the sound of a hand-organ which her ear had caught yet which was still out of sight. Arrived, they joined the group of children gathered about the grinder and his monkey, and created a profound sensation among the gutter audience.
“Where’d you get her? Whose she belongs?” demanded one big girl who knew Glory and found this white-clad stranger more interesting than even a monkey.
“Belongs to me. She’s mine; she was sent,” returned Take-a-Stitch, with an inimitable gesture of pride.
“Huh! Talk’s cheap. Nobody sent silk-dressed young ones to the Lane to be took care of, Glory Beck. I don’t care, though. Keep her, if ye want to,” returned the offended questioner.
“Sure I shall,” laughed Glory, gaily. “But needn’t get mad, Nancy Smith. Maybe you can get one, too. She’s my ‘Guardian Angel’ an’ her name’s ‘Bonny’; she said so. She don’t talk much, only that ‘Bonny come.’ Did you know ‘Angels’ was so perfeckly lovely, Nancy?”
Clasping her hands, this proud proprietor of an “Angel” smiled beatifically on all around. Even the organ-grinder came in for a portion of that smile, though hitherto, Glory had rather disliked him because she fancied him unkind to Jocko.
This organ-grinder was Luigi Salvatore, brother to Tonio, and as well known in that locality. His amazement at seeing the child in the goober seller’s care caused him to stop grinding; whereupon the music also stopped and the monkey left off holding his cap to the children, begging their pennies, to hop upon his master’s shoulder. From thence he grinned so maliciously that the “Angel” was frightened and hid her face in Glory’s skirt, whereupon that proud girl realized that “Angels,” if young, were exactly like human young things and needed comforting. Many an Elbow baby had learned to flee for help to Glory’s arms, and now this stranger was lifted in them and clasped closer than any other had ever been.
“Oh, you sweetest, dearest Bonny Angel! Don’t you be afraid. Glory’ll take care of ye. Don’t they have monkeys where you lived, honey? S’pose not, less you’d ha’ knowed they wouldn’t hurt. Well, now, on we go. Which way is to grandpa, Bonny Angel?”
The tiny face burrowing under Glory’s chin was partially turned and the babyish hand pointed outward in a very imperative way. Glory construed that she must travel in the direction indicated and, also, that even “Angels” liked their commands to be immediately obeyed. For when she lingered a moment to exchange compliments with Nancy, on the subject of “stuck-up-ness” and general “top-loftiness,” Miss Bonny brought these amenities to a sudden close by a smart slap on Glory’s lips and a lusty kick in the direction she wished to be carried.
Fortunately, Take-a-Stitch had never thought how “Angels” should behave, else she might have been disappointed. As it was, the child at once became dearer and more her girlish proprietor’s “very own” because in just this manner might Meg’s youngest have kicked and slapped.
“Huh! Call that a ‘Angel’ do ye, Glory Beck? ’Tis no such thing. It’s only somebody’s baby what’s got lost. Angels are folks what live in heaven, an’ they never kick ner scratch ner ask to be carried. They don’t need. All they have to do is to set still an’ sing an’ flap their wings. Huh! I know.”
Nancy spoke with the conviction of an eyewitness, and for a time her playmate was silenced. Then, as Bonny had now grown quiet and gave her an opportunity, Glory demanded:
“How can you know? You hain’t never been there. Nobody hasn’t. An’ you go ask Meg-Laundress. Good-bye. Don’t be mad. I’ll be home bime-by, an’ Bonny Angel with me. She’s come to stay. She belongs, same’s all of us. She’s a reg’lar Elbower, ’now an’ forevermore,’ like we say in the ring-game; an’ some time, maybe, if she wants, I’ll let her ‘Guardian’ you somewhere. Now we’re off to grandpa, but we’ll be back after a while. Good-bye. Maybe Toni’ll let you peddle goobers in my place the rest the day. Good-bye.”
Bonny Angel, as she was from that time to be called by her new friend, was again gurgling and smiling and gaily radiant; and for some distance Glory sped along, equally radiant and wholly engrossed in watching the little face so near her own. It was, indeed, perfect in its infantile beauty and more than one passer-by paused to take a second glance at this odd pair, so unlike, and yet so well content.
After a short while, the aching of her arms made Glory realize that even infant “Angels” may become intolerably heavy, when clothed in healthy human form and carried indefinitely, so she set the little one down on its own small feet, though they seemed too dainty to rest upon the smirched stones of the pavement which just there was even more begrimed than that of the Lane itself.
Then she saw that they had halted beside a coal-yard in an unfamiliar part of the city, but there were throngs of people hurrying past them toward some point beyond, and though many observed, none paused to address the children. Bonny was now rested and active and merrily started in the same direction, across the gangplank to the floor of a crowded ferry-boat. The ferry-men supposed them to belong to some older passengers and let them pass unchallenged; nor did Bonny Angel cease her resolute urging forward till they had come to the very edge of the further deck and stood looking down into the river.
Almost at once, the boat began to move and Glory was as delighted as Bonny by the rush of the wind on her face and by the novel sights of the water. After all, this search for grandpa was proving the pleasantest of outings, for, though the goober-seller had often peddled her nuts at the landings of other ferries, she had never before crossed any. She gave the baby a fresh deluge of kisses, exclaiming, “Oh, you dear knowin’ darlin’! He has gone this way an’ you’re leadin’ me!”
“Bonny come!” cried the “Angel,” with a seraphic smile.
Glory smiled back, all anxiety at rest. She was going to grandpa, with this tiny “Guardian” an unerring guide. Why should one fear aught while the sun shone so brightly, and over on the further shore she could see trees waving and green terraces rising one above the other? Surely, grandpa had done well to leave the dingy Lane for such a beautiful place, and she was glad, yes, certainly she was glad that she had come.
But the boat trip came to an end all too soon, and, because they were so near the landing side, they were crowded off the broad deck before Glory was quite ready and, in the onrush of hurrying passengers, Bonny Angel’s hand was wrested from her grasp.
“Oh, take care there, my Angel! I mustn’t lose her!” cried Take-a-Stitch, distraught at seeing her treasure swept off her tiny feet in the crush.
“In course you mustn’t, sissy!” cried a hearty, kindly voice, as a timely deck-hand caught up the child and restored her to Glory’s arms. “’Course not; though there’s many a one would snap at such a beauty, if you give ’em a chance. Tight-hold her, sissy, for such posies as her don’t grow on every bush!”
With that, the man in blue shirt and overalls not only gave Bonny a besmirching pat on her snowy shoulder, but safely handed Glory herself across the swaying plank to the quay beyond.
There Bonny Angel composedly seated herself upon a pile of dirty ropes and, rather than cross her desires, Glory also sat down. Both were much interested in the scene about them, though “Angel” soon forgot all else save Bo’sn who had followed, and who lay at her feet to rest his nose on his tired paws while he steadfastly gazed at this new charge. Already he seemed to have decided in his canine mind that she was to be guided and guarded as he had guided and guarded his lost master, and with an equal faithfulness.
Soon the rush and bustle of the boat’s return trip gave way to a corresponding quiet, and Goober Glory dreamily watched the wide deck, where she had stood, slip back and back between the water-worn piles out upon the murky river. The space between them widened and widened, continually, till the boat lessened in size to a mere point and, finally, became lost in the crowding craft of the Hudson’s mouth. As she saw it disappear, a sudden homesickness seized her and, springing to her feet, she stretched her arms longingly toward that further side which held all that she had ever known and loved, and cried aloud:
“Oh, I want to go back! It’s there I belong, and he isn’t here–I know he isn’t here!”
Then she felt a small hand clutch her skirt and turned about to see Bonny Angel’s face clouding with grief and her dainty under lip beginning to quiver piteously. A world of reproach seemed to dwell in her pleading, “Bonny come!” and Glory’s own cheerfulness instantly returned. Lifting the child again, she poised her on her own shoulder and started valiantly forward across the ferry-slip and past the various stands of the small merchants which lined the waiting-room walls. Thus elevated, Bonny Angel was just upon a level with one tempting display of cakes and candies, and the sight of them reminded her that it was time to eat. She took her arm from Glory’s neck, to which she had clung, made an unexpected dash for a heap of red confections, lost her balance, and fell head long in the midst.
