The Lilac Lady Part 9

"There are five children in the family we sent our stuff to, and three of them are girls. There are six girls in our family, and when we lived all alone in the little brown house with just ragged, faded dresses to wear and only plain things to eat, holidays and all, we'd have been tickled to death if someone had given us such pretty things all for our very own. Oh, wouldn't it have made _you_ happy if you had been a little girl?"

The great, brown eyes shone with such a glorified light and the small, round face looked so blissfully happy that the Doctor's lecture was wholly forgotten, and for a long time he held the little form close in his arms while his mind went backward over the long years to the time when he was a homeless orphan and Hi Allen--Hi Greenfield--had shared his treasures with him. They made a beautiful picture sitting there in the gathering dusk, the white head bending low over the riotous brown curls, the strong hands intertwined with the supple, childish fingers; and so completely had she captured the great heart of the man that when at length he set her on the floor and sent her away with a kiss, he spoke no chiding word. And Peace skipped off well content with the results of her first missionary efforts.

A few days later she danced into the house one afternoon from school, wet from head to foot with a damp, clinging snow which was falling, and at sight of her, Mrs. Campbell threw up her hands and exclaimed, "Peace, my child, what have you been doing?"

"Ted and Evelyn Smiley and Allee and me and some others had a snow-ball battle."

"That is expressly forbidden by the school board--" began the gentle little grandmother reprovingly.

"Oh, we didn't battle with the school board, grandma! We waited until we reached Evelyn's house and had it in their back yard. The snow is just right for dandy b.a.l.l.s."

"I should think as much. Come here!"

Peace obeyed, glancing hastily at her feet as she guiltily remembered a certain pair of new shoes which she was wearing and saw the sharp, black eyes fixed searchingly upon them.

"Peace Greenfield, what have you on your feet?"

"Shoes."

"Your new strapped shoes--slippers--for summer wear?"

Peace nodded.

"After I told you not to wear them until warmer weather!"

"You didn't say that, grandma," Peace expostulated. "You said as long as I had any others, you guessed I had better put these away for party wear until it got warmer."

As a rule, Peace's excuses rather amused the mistress of the house, but this time she looked sternly at the little culprit, and briefly commanded, "Go to your room and put on your other shoes immediately."

"I haven't got any others."

"No others? What do you mean?"

"I--I--gave mine all away."

"To whom did you give them?" asked the President, who had entered the room unnoticed.

"To a little girl I met on the hill yesterday. Her toes were sticking through hers and she looked dreadfully cold, and kept stamping her feet to keep them from freezing."

The President swallowed a lump in his throat.

"She did not need _two_ pair to keep her feet warm, did she?"

"She was twins."

"Wh-at?"

Peace jumped. "Well, she said she had a sister just her same age at home, who hadn't any shoes at all."

He took her by the hand, led her to her room, and after seeing that the wet shoes and stockings were replaced with dry ones, he lectured her kindly about giving away her belongings in such a promiscuous manner without first consulting her elders. And having won her promise for future good behavior, he went down town to purchase new shoes for the shoeless culprit, satisfied that Peace would remember his words of caution, and that they should not again be disturbed by the too generous acts of this zealous little home missionary.

And Peace did remember for a long time, but one day when the two younger children had been left alone with the servants, temptation again invaded this little Garden of Eden, and the brown-haired Eve yielded.

It was late in the afternoon and Peace and Allee were standing by the window watching the sinking sun, when a ragged, stooped, old man trailed down the quiet street with a battered, wheezy, old hand-organ strapped to his back and a wizened, wistful-eyed, peaked-faced child at his heels. Seeing the two bright faces in the window and concluding that money was plentiful in that home, the vagabond slipped the organ from its supports, and began grinding out a discordant tune from the protesting instrument, sending the ragged, weary, little girl to the door with her tin cup for contributions.

Peace saw her approaching, and opened the door before she had a chance to ring the bell, surprising the tiny ragam.u.f.fin so completely that she could only stand and mutely hold out her appealing dipper, having forgotten entirely the words she had been taught to speak on such occasions.

"You're cold," said Peace, a great pity surging through her breast as she saw the swollen, purple hands trying to hide under ragged sleeves of a pitifully thin coat.

"Ver' col'," repeated the beggar, finding her tongue.

"And hungry?"

"Not'ing to eat today."

Peace made a sudden dive at the dirty, unkempt creature, jerked her into the warm hall, and calling over her shoulder to the organ-grinder on the walk, "Go on playing, old man, she'll be back pretty soon!" she slammed the door shut, pushed the child into a chair by the glowing grate, and turned to Allee with the command, "Go ask Gussie for something to eat.

Tell her a lunch in a bag will do. She's always good to beggars."

"No beggar," remonstrated the little foreigner. "Earn money. Some days much. Little this day. It so col'."

"Is that all the coat you have?" Peace demanded, eyeing the scant attire with horrified eyes.

"All," answered the child simply, and she sighed heavily.

"I've got two. You can have one of mine," cried Peace, forgetting wisdom, discretion, everything, in her great pity for this hapless bit of humanity.

"You mean it? No, you fool," was the disconcerting reply.

"I'm not a fool!"

"No, no, not a fool. You jus' fool,--joke. You no mean it."

"I do, too! Wait a minute till I get it, and see if it fits. You're thinner'n me, but you're about as tall."

She rushed eagerly up the stairway, and soon returned with the pretty, brown coat which she had found on her bed Christmas morning. Into this she bundled the surprised beggar child, pleased to think it fitted so well, and explained rapidly, "I got two new coats for Christmas. Grandma said the red one was for best, so I kept that one, but you can have this. Keep it on outside your old rag. It will be just that much warmer, and tonight is awfully cold. Here's a pair of mittens, too. Wear 'em; they're nice and warm."

Thrusting Allee's bag of lunch into the blue-mittened hands, Peace opened the door and let the newly-cloaked figure run down the walk to the impatient man stamping back and forth in the street. They watched him minutely examining the child's new treasures, but they could not see the avaricious gleam in his ugly eyes, nor did they dream that the precious brown coat would be stripped off the s.h.i.+vering little form just as soon as they were out of sight around the corner, and bartered for whiskey at the nearest saloon.

So happy was Peace in thinking of this other child's happiness that she never once thought of her promise made to her grandfather until she saw Jud drive up the avenue and help the rest of the family out of the big sleigh. At sight of the erect figure striding up the walk with the gentle little grandmother on one arm and sister Gail on the other, she suddenly remembered that he had told her when she gave away her shoes that she must ask permission before disposing of her belongings, or he should be compelled to use drastic measures. "Bra.s.s-stick" measures, she called it, and visions of a certain bra.s.s rule on the desk in the library rose before her in a most disquieting fas.h.i.+on as she recalled that impressive interview.

"Don't tell him what you have done," whispered a little evil voice in her ear.

"Tell him at once," commanded her conscience; and acting upon the impulse of the moment, she flew into the old gentleman's arms almost before he had crossed the threshold and panted out, "I 'xpect you'll be _compendled_ to use your _bra.s.s-stick_ measures on me this time sure. I guv away my coat!"

"You did what?" he cried, pus.h.i.+ng her from him that he might look into her face.

"Gave, I mean. I gave away my brown coat."

"Peace!"