Green Valley Part 20

That sweet-faced little woman looked about with anxious eyes, then turned to the little shoemaker.

"Joe--I'm looking for Peter. Wasn't he here with you? He said he was coming here to see the boys."

"He was here and he saw the boys. They all went off together."

"Joe"--fear and worry leaped to the lovely corn-flower eyes, "Joe--not--surely they didn't go--they aren't down _there_?"

"That's just where they are. I was just going after them."

For still seconds this father and mother of boys looked at each other in misery. Both were thinking the same thing, both shrank from what was before them, but even as Joe squared his shoulders Mrs. Dustin straightened hers.

"I'm going with you, Joe."

So down the autumn street went these two. Joe, because he had promised Hattie when she was sick unto death that he would always watch over the boys, would love and cherish and guard them.

Mrs. Dustin was going because Peter was her baby, her strange, weird duckling, full of whimsical fancies and fantastic longings. He was a sort of dream child for whom she alone felt wholly responsible. All the others were good, understandable children. But Peter was odd and n.o.body but his blue-eyed mother knew how to handle him.

"Rosalie, I've never whipped those boys of mine. Some way I couldn't with Hattie gone and them having no one but me. But maybe it was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't, Joe. The Greatest Teacher that ever lived used only truth and gentleness and look at the size of His school now. No--this trouble isn't in the children exactly. It must be in us. We're stupid and don't know how to do for the children. People say that young folks must be young folks. And we let our boys and even our girls flounder through a lot of cheap foolishness before we expect them to settle down.

"But it's my opinion, Joe, that letting them flounder all alone through these raw years of their life is plain wickedness. Peter has a good home and he's loved and he knows it. Yet he's got to the place now where he wants something that I and the home can't seem to give him. I don't know just what it is. But this place, Joe, bad as it is, must have the thing that our half-grown children want and that's what brings them here even against our will. And I'm going to-night to find out what it is."

"It can't be good for them, Rosalie, when it drives them into lying and stealing. Why only to-day Josie Landis sent Eddie to me with fifty cents for the shoes I mended for her. And he gambled that fifty cents away in the slot machine and came and told me a lie!"

"Little Eddie Landis! Why--Joe, he's just a baby."

"Well--that's what the place is doing to the babies. I don't like it.

It's dirty and sneaky and it's working hand in hand with the saloon.

It has no business in this town."

"But, Joe, it must have something that this town wants or it wouldn't be doing business. It can't be all pure wickedness."

But Joe's anger was rising in leaps and bounds so that his very hands shook. Mrs. Dustin stopped and laid a soothing hand on the little shoemaker's arm.

"Joe, whatever you do don't get angry in there. Hold on to your temper and don't let yourself even look mad if you can help it. We mustn't humiliate the children for they'd never forgive. You better let me do all the talking at first."

Joe nodded and with that they came abreast of the curtained windows and stood still for a second to gather up their courage. Then Mrs. Dustin very quietly opened the door and stepped in with Joe.

She stood smiling at the door and at sight of her the noise stopped as if by magic. Every child there knew the lovely, blue-eyed little mother of Peter Dustin. The only one who did not know her was the proprietor standing in stupid wonder behind his counter. But she pretended not to see his astonishment as she made her laughing explanations.

"We got lonesome, Joe and I. You know these first autumn nights do chill us older folks a bit and make us sad. We want bright fires and lots of children racketing around to keep us from feeling old and frightened. And I guess the children get the blues from us for I notice that that's just the time they want to get off by themselves for a good time. We're all trying to forget that the year is dying, I expect, and we're crowding together to cheer each other up. That's what's making the streets so lonely to-night. As I came along I felt so bad that I thought I'd just drop in on Joe and get cheered up with the children. They're usually there. But Joe was standing on his doorstep as lonely as I was. He was missing the children too. We saw your light and heard the children laughing, and we just thought we'd come in and see if we couldn't feel young again. We didn't come in to spoil your fun, so just you go on with it. Joe and I'll watch and maybe join in. You were dancing, weren't you, Mollie?"

Mrs. Dustin asked this of a little russet-haired girl of fourteen who in her sudden amazement at the visitors was still standing in the middle of the floor with her arms about Peter, who had a mouth organ in his mouth. She was a graceful little thing and she had been teaching Peter how to dance. But now she stood stiff with fright and embarra.s.sment.

"Why, don't be afraid of my mother, Mollie," Peter said gently, for he himself was in no way frightened at his mother's appearance.

So when Mrs. Dustin repeated her question, Mollie said shyly: "Yes, ma'am, we were trying to dance."

"Bless me," laughed Mrs. Dustin. "Why, I never realized that Peter was old enough to want to dance. You should have told me, Peter Boy. Why, you should have all told me, because," she smiled gloriously at them all, "because I used to be the star dancer twenty-five years ago.

Wasn't I, Joe?"

"You sure were," Joe answered promptly. His face still looked a little queer and his voice was not quite steady but he was bravely following the wise little woman with the blue eyes.

"Let me show you. Play something, Peter."

Mrs. Dustin picked up Mollie and began to dance. And in exactly five turns about the room all the poetry, the joy of motion in Mollie caught fire and her little slim feet just fairly twinkled in happy abandonment.

"Why, Mollie, girl, you're a fairy on your feet," praised Mrs. Dustin and the happy face at her breast flushed with pleasure and grat.i.tude at the words.

Peter was not the least bit surprised at his mother's antics. He knew that she was a glorious mother and full of surprises. The other youngsters however were not so sure. So Peter suggested to the proprietor that he start the graphophone. The proprietor nodded and soon they were all dancing, Mrs. Dustin taking a new partner every few minutes.

"And children," she suddenly remembered, "Joe can jig--why, he used to jig beautifully."

So Joe took his turn in amusing the children and while he did it Mrs.

Dustin examined some machines lined up along the wall.

"When you drop a nickel in the slot do you get gum, peanuts or your fortune told or does a Punch and Judy pop out?" she laughingly and innocently asked Sim and Sammy Berwick who stood near.

Sim looked uneasy and Sammy said, "Aw, them things are no good, Mrs.

Dustin. You don't want to monkey with them. You might--"

But Mrs. Dustin was already dropping her nickel in and when Peter came up she was shaking out an empty purse.

"Why, Peter, what's the matter with these machines? I guess I didn't work them right. I've dropped all my money in, and I haven't gotten a thing. It's the money I was saving for the framing of that picture Mr.

Rollins gave me. Don't you think you can get it for me? Jemmy Hills sent me word to-day that the picture was all framed and ready."

Peter all at once looked sick. He knew how his mother had been saving to buy a pretty frame for the lovely water color Bernard Rollins had given her. She had even given up the idea of a new knot of flowers for her hat. And now she had dropped the precious coins down the hungry mouth of a slot machine. And the worst of it was she didn't seem to know what she had done.

"Mother," Peter began miserably, "you've lost the money and I don't see how you can ask--"

"Oh, well, Peter Boy,--never mind. I expect it's some new game and I didn't play it right. I'm sorry I was stupid. Let's see what else we can do. I wanted to treat you children to soda but maybe Joe has some money. Joe," she called merrily to the shoemaker, "won't you treat?"

Joe caught the odd little note in her voice. His hand rattled the loose change in his pocket and he smiled a spontaneous smile that had however more than a bit of malice in it.

"Sure, I'll treat," and he turned to the proprietor who still looked as though he was seeing things but came to life when Joe stepped up to the counter.

"What'll you have?"

"Oh," said Joe carelessly, "give me what you give the rest of the boys," and here Joe winked at the proprietor.

"And I'll have the same," laughed Mrs. Dustin, and again Joe winked at the proprietor.

But the children had grown strangely quiet, especially the boys. And slim Mollie once more grew frightened as she watched the proprietor setting out gla.s.s after gla.s.s of foaming beer.

Mrs. Dustin was busy talking to the children and didn't seem to see the foaming gla.s.ses until Joe called,

"Come on, everybody--line up."