T here," said Mrs. Granby, holding Willie Richards at arm's length from her, and gazing at him with pride and admiration,—"there, I'd like to see the fellow, be he man, woman, or child, that will dare to say my boy is not fit to stand beside any gentleman's son in the land." Certainly Mrs. Granby had no need to be ashamed of the object of her affectionate care. His shoes, though well worn and patched, had been blacked and polished till they looked quite respectable; the suit made from his father's old uniform was still neat and whole, for Willie's present quiet life was a great saving to his clothes, if that were any comfort; his white collar was turned back and neatly "Thank you, dear Auntie Granby. I know I am nice when you fix me up. Pretty soon I shall see how nice you make me look." "Come now, Jennie, bring along that mop of yours," said Mrs. Granby, brandishing a comb at Jennie, and, half laughing, half shrinking, the little girl submitted to put her head into Mrs. Granby's hands. But, as had "I don't care," said Jennie, when Mrs. Granby pretended to be very angry at the rebellious hair,—"I don't care if it won't be smoothed; it is just like father's, mother says so; and anything like him is good enough for me." "Well, I won't say no to that," said Mrs. Granby, putting down the brush and throwing Jennie's dress over her head. "The more you're like him in all ways, the better you'll be, Jennie Richards, you mind that." "I do mind it," said Jennie. "I know he's the best father ever lived. Isn't he, Willie?" "S'pose that's what all young ones says of their fathers and mothers," answered Mrs. Granby, "even s'posin' the fathers and mothers "And good reason, too," chimed in Mrs. Richards. "He's as true and noble a gentleman as ever walked, and a good friend to us." "That's so," answered Mrs. Granby, "I'll not gainsay you there neither. And that's come all along of your man just speaking a kind word or two to that stray lamb of his. And if I'd a mind to contradick you, which I haint, there's Sergeant Richards himself to back your words. The bairns is 'most ready, sergeant; and me and Mary was just sayin' how strange it seemed that such a friend as Mr. Bradford was raised up for you just along of a bit of pettin' you give that lost child. It's as the gentleman says,—'bread cast upon the waters;' but who'd ha' thought to see it come back the way it does? It beats all how things do come around." "Under God's guidance," said the policeman, softly. "The Lord's ways are past finding out." "I'll agree to that too," answered Mrs. Granby, "bein' in an accommodatin' humor this afternoon. There, now, Jennie, you're ready. Mind your manners now, and behave pretty, and don't let Willie go to falling down them long stairs at Mrs. Bradford's. There, kiss your mother, both of you, and go away with your father. I s'pose he ain't got no time to spare. I'll go over after them in an hour or so, Sergeant Richards." Here Tommy began very eagerly with his confused jargon which no one pretended to understand but Jennie. "What does he say, Jennie?" asked the father. "He says, 'Nice little girl, come some more. Bring her doggie,'" said Jennie; then turning to her mother, she asked, "Mother, do you b'lieve you can understand Tommy till I come back?" "I'll try," said her mother, smiling; "if I cannot, Tommy and I must be patient. Run now, father is waiting." Mrs. Granby followed them to the door, and even to the gate, where she stood and watched them till they were out of sight, for, as she told Mrs. Richards, "it did her a heap of good to see the poor things goin' off for a bit of a holiday." The policeman and his children kept steadily on till they reached the park near which Mr. Bradford lived, where they turned in. "How nice it is!" said Willie as the fresh, sweet air blew across his face, bringing the scent of the new grass and budding trees. "It seems a little like the country here. Don't you wish we lived in the country, father?" "I would like it, Willie, more for your sake than for anything else, and I wish from my heart I could send you and mother off to the country this summer, my boy. But you see it can't be managed. But I guess somehow "And then I shall see; sha'n't I, father? I hear the birds. Are they hopping about like they used to, over the trees, so tame and nice?" "Yes," answered his father, "and here we are by the water, where's a whole heap of 'em come down for a drink." In his new hope, Willie took a fresh interest in all about him. "Oh, I hear 'em!" said Willie, eagerly, "and soon I'll see 'em. Will it be next week, father?" and he clasped tightly the hand he held. "I don't know about next week, sonny. I believe your eyes have to be bandaged for a while, lest the light would be too bright for them, while they're still weak, but you will have patience for that; won't you, Willie?" Willie promised, for it seemed to him that he could have patience and courage for anything now. "Oh!" said Jennie, as they reached Mr. Bradford's house, and went up the steps, "don't I wish I lived in a house like this!" "Don't be wishing that," said her father. "You'll see a good many things here such as you never saw before, but you mustn't go to wishing for them or fretting after the same. We've too much to be thankful for, my lassie, to be hankering for things which are not likely ever to be ours." "'Tis no harm to wish for them; is it, father?" asked Jennie, as they waited for the door to be opened. "It's not best even to wish for what's beyond our reach," said her father, "lest we should get to covet our neighbors' goods, or to be discontented with our own lot; and certainly we have no call to do that." Richards asked for Mrs. Bradford, and she presently came down, bringing Maggie and Willie was not asked to look at anything. The little sisters had thought of what he had said the day they went to see him, and agreed that Bessie was to take care of him while Maggie entertained Jennie. He asked after Flossy, and the dog was called, and behaved quite as well as he had done when he saw Willie before, lying quiet in his arms as long as the blind boy chose to hold him, and putting his cold nose against his face in an affectionate way which delighted Willie highly. There was no difficulty in amusing Jennie, Maggie and Bessie had just taken him and his sister into the nursery to visit the baby, the canary bird, and other wonders there, when there came sweet sounds from below. Willie instantly turned to the door and stood listening. "Who's making that music?" he asked presently in a whisper, as if he were afraid to lose a note. "Mamma and Aunt Bessie," said Maggie. "Would you and Jennie like to go down to the parlor and hear it?" asked Bessie. Willie said "Yes," very eagerly, but Jennie did not care to go where the grown ladies were, and said she would rather stay up-stairs if Maggie did not mind. Maggie consented, and Bessie went off, leading the blind boy by the hand. It was both amusing and touching to see the watch she kept over this child who was twice her own size, guiding his steps with a motherly sort of care, looking up at him with wistful pity and tenderness, and speaking to him in a soft, coaxing voice such as one would use to an infant. They were going down-stairs when they met Aunt Patty coming up. She passed them at the landing, then suddenly turning, said, in the short, quick way to which Bessie was by this time somewhat accustomed, "Children! Bessie! This is very dangerous! You should not be leading that poor boy down-stairs. Where are your nurses, that they do not see after you? Take care, take care! Look where you are going now! Carefully, carefully!" Now if Aunt Patty had considered the matter, she would have known she was taking the very way to bring about the thing she However, they both reached the lower hall in safety, where Bessie led her charge to the parlor-door. "Mamma," she said, "Willie likes music very much. I suppose you would just as lief he would listen to you and Aunt Bessie." "Certainly," said mamma. "Bring him in." But before they went in, Willie paused and turned to Bessie. "Who was that on the stairs?" he asked in a whisper. "Oh! that was only Aunt Patty," answered the little girl. "You need not be afraid of "No," said Willie, slowly, as if he were trying to recollect something, "I am not afraid; but then I thought I had heard that voice before." "Oh, I guess not," said Bessie; and then she took him in and seated him in her own little arm-chair, close to the piano. No one who had noticed the way in which the blind boy listened to the music, or seen the look of perfect enjoyment on his pale, patient face, could have doubted his love for the sweet sounds. While Mrs. Bradford and Miss Rush played or sang, he sat motionless, not moving a finger, hardly seeming to breathe, lest he should lose one note. "So you are very fond of music; are you, Willie?" said Mrs. Bradford, when at length they paused. "Yes, ma'am, very," said he, modestly; "but I never heard music like that before. It seems 'most as if it was alive." "So it does," said Bessie, while the ladies smiled at the boy's innocent admiration. "I think there's a many nice things in this house," continued Willie, who, in his very helplessness and unconsciousness of the many new objects which surrounded him, was more at his ease than his sister. "And mamma is the nicest of all," said Bessie. "You can't think how precious she is, Willie!" Mrs. Bradford laughed as she put back her little daughter's curls, and kissed her forehead. "I guess she must be, when she is your mother," said Willie. "You must all be very kind and good people here; and I wish, oh, I wish it was you and your sister who gave the money for Dr. Dawson. But never mind; I thank you and love you all the same as if you had done it, only I would like to Here Willie started, and turned his sightless eyes towards the open door, through which was again heard Mrs. Lawrence's voice, as she gave directions to Patrick respecting a parcel she was about to send home. "What is the matter, Willie?" asked Mrs. Bradford. "Nothing, ma'am;" answered the child, as a flush came into his pale cheeks, and rising from his chair, he stood with his head bent forward, listening intently, till the sound of Aunt Patty's voice ceased, and the opening and closing of the front-door showed that she had gone out, when he sat down again with a puzzled expression on his face. "Does anything trouble you?" asked Mrs. Bradford. "No, ma'am; but—but—I know I've heard it before." "Heard what?" "That voice, ma'am; Miss Bessie said it was her aunt's." "But you couldn't have heard it, you know, Willie," said Bessie, "'cause you never came to this house before, and Aunt Patty never went to yours." These last words brought it all back to the blind boy. He knew now. "But she did," he said, eagerly,—"she did come to our house. That's the one; that's the voice that scolded mother and Auntie Granby and Jennie, and that put the money into the Bible when we didn't know it!" Mrs. Bradford and Miss Rush looked at one another with quick, surprised glances; but Bessie said, "Oh! you must be mistaken, Willie. It's quite unpossible. Aunt Patty does not know you or your house, and she never went there. Besides, she does not"—"Does not like you to have the money," she was about to say, when she thought that this would be neither kind nor polite, and checked herself. But Willie was quite as positive as she was, and with a little shake of his head, he said, "No, Willie, I did not send her," answered the lady, with another look at Miss Rush, "nor did any one in this house." But in spite of this, and all Bessie's persuasions and assurances that the thing was quite impossible, Willie was not to be convinced that the voice he had twice heard was not that of the old lady who had left the money in the Bible; and he did not cease regretting that Jennie had not seen her. But to have Jennie or Mrs. Granby see her was just what Mrs. Lawrence did not choose, and to avoid this, she had gone out, not being able to shut herself up in her own room, which was undergoing a sweeping and dusting. She had not been afraid of the sightless eyes of the little boy when she met him on "What woman?" asked Maggie. "The old woman who brought the money to our house. I know it is her." "Oh, no, it is not," said Maggie; "that's Aunt Patty, and she's an old lady, not an old woman, and she wouldn't do it if she could. She is real mean, Jennie, and I think that person who took you the money was real good and kind, even if we did feel a little bad about "But she does talk just like the lady who came to our house," persisted Jennie. "You can see her if you have a mind to," said Maggie, "and then you'll know it is not her. Come and look over the balusters, but don't let her see you, or else she'll say, 'What are you staring at, child?'" They both ran to the head of the stairs, where Jennie peeped over the balusters. "It is her!" she whispered to Maggie. "I am just as sure, as sure. She is all dressed up nice to-day, and the other day she had on an old water-proof cloak, and a great big umbrella, and she didn't look so nice. But she's the very same." "Let's go down and tell mamma, and see what she says," said Maggie, as the front-door closed after Aunt Patty. Away they both rushed to the parlor; but when Jennie saw the ladies, she was rather abashed and hung back a little, while Maggie broke forth with, "Mamma, I have the greatest piece of astonishment to tell you, you ever heard. Jennie says she is quite sure Aunt Patty is the woman who put the money in the Bible and paid Dr. Dawson. But, mamma, it can't be; can it? Aunt Patty is quite too dog-in-the-mangery; is she not?" "Maggie, dear," said her mother, "that is not a proper way for you to speak of your aunt, nor do I think it is just as you say. What do you mean by that?" "Why, mamma, you know the dog in the manger could not eat the hay himself, and would not let the oxen eat it; and Aunt Patty would not buy the grove, or tell papa what was the reason; so was she not like the dog in the manger?" "Not at all," said Mrs. Bradford, smiling at Maggie's reasoning. "The two cases are not at all alike. As you say, the dog would "But do you believe she gave up the grove for that, mamma? She would not be so good and generous; would she?" "Yes, dear, I think she would. Aunt Patty is a very generous-hearted woman, although her way of doing things may be very different from that of some other people. Mind, I did not say that she did do this, but Willie and Jennie both seem to be quite positive that she is the old lady who was at their house, and I think it is not at all unlikely." "And shall you ask her, mamma?" "No. If it was Aunt Patty who has been so kind, she has shown very plainly that she Very soon after this, Mrs. Granby came for Willie and Jennie, and no sooner were they outside of the door than they told of the wonderful discovery they had made. Mrs. Granby said she was not at all astonished, "one might have been sure such a good turn came out of that house, somehow." Decoration, end of chap. XV
Title decoration chap. XVI |