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"The very thing!" exclaimed Mr. Hamilton, with as much fervor as d.i.c.k had shown. "That's the ticket, d.i.c.k. I'll write to Foster at once and ask him if he and his wife can take a crowd of the waifs at Sunnyside for a few weeks. Then you will have to manage the other end yourself.
Foster will do as I say, I guess, for he loves children and he has a heart as big as a barrel. You'll have to furnish the children."
"I'll do it!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, delightedly. "I'll write to Uncle Ezra and ask him the address of that committee in New York. Hurrah for the fresh-air kids! I hope they have a good time!"
"I guess they will if he has anything to do with it," mused Mr.
Hamilton, with a fond look at his son as d.i.c.k went to get writing material to pen a letter to Uncle Ezra.
CHAPTER XX
TIM'S DISCLOSURE
Two days later d.i.c.k received a reply from Mr. Larabee. In the meanwhile Mr. Hamilton had written to Foster, the man he hired to take charge of Sunnyside farm, and had told him to have the place in readiness for twenty-five youngsters.
"Did your Uncle Ezra give you the address of the Fresh-Air Committee?"
asked d.i.c.k's father.
"Yes, and he sent me a letter of advice along with it."
"What does he say?"
"I'll read it to you," and d.i.c.k turned over the pages of the missive.
"This is what he says about my plan of trying to give those kids a little fun:
"'I send you the address of the committee, as you requested, but, Nephew Richard, I want to warn you against taking them. In the first place, they will be no better off than they are at home. They will not appreciate what you do for them. Then, too, they might bring some terrible epidemic to this part of the country. Sunnyside is not so far from Dankville but that a disease might carry to my place, and you know my health is not strong.
"'If I had control of you (as I may have some day), I would not let you do this. But it is not for me to say at this time what you should do. I think you are throwing the money away, and you had much better put the amount you intend spending into the church missionary box and so aid the heathens. They need it.'
"As if those poor kids in the hot tenements of New York didn't need it, too," commented d.i.c.k. "Well, Uncle Ezra is certainly a queer man. I suppose he'll keep his house filled with disinfectants while the waifs are at Sunnyside, though it's many miles away."
In about a week d.i.c.k had completed arrangements with the committee in New York, the president of which wrote to thank him for aiding in the work they were doing. d.i.c.k was told that twenty-five youngsters, ten boys and fifteen girls, none of whom had ever been to the country before, would be sent to Sunnyside in charge of a matron. d.i.c.k had forwarded money to buy the tickets, and had planned with Foster to have a big stage meet the train on which the "fresh-air kids," as he called them, would arrive at the nearest station to the country home.
"Well, dad," remarked d.i.c.k, the day before the waifs from New York were to arrive, "you've seen the last of me for a week."
"Why; where are you going?"
"To Sunnyside. I want to see that the kids are started right, and I think I'll stay about a week to see that they have a good time. I'll take my runabout, and I can come back in a hurry if I need to. I'll bring a batch over to see you, maybe."
"Do," said Mr. Hamilton. "I like children. Poor things! I hope the trip to the country does them good."
d.i.c.k had read about fresh-air children who were much impressed by their first visit to the country, but this did not prepare him for the awed look on the faces of the twenty-five as they tumbled from the train at the little country depot, and made for the waiting stage.
"Now, children," said the matron, as d.i.c.k came up and introduced himself, "this is the gentleman who was so kind as to bring you out to this beautiful place," and she shook hands with the millionaire's son.
"Is dat de rich guy?" asked one boy, but though his words might sound disrespectful he did not intend them so.
"Hus.h.!.+" exclaimed a girl in a much-patched red dress. "He'll hear you."
"What do I care! If I wuz as rich as him I wouldn't care who knowed it,"
retorted the boy.
"No more do I, old chap," replied d.i.c.k, with a laugh, as he patted the youngster on the back. "Now, boys and girls, the stage is waiting for you."
"Oh, Nellie!" cried a little tot with light hair, "we're goin' to ride in a real wagon with real horses!"
"Don't speak so loud!" was the whispered answer of her companion. "It's like a dream, an' maybe we'll wake up an' find it all gone."
The children, in spite of the fact that they came from the slums of New York, were all neat and clean, for that was one of the requirements of the committee that took charge of the fresh-air work. And, though their manners might be considered a little rough, they did not intend them so.
It was due to the influence of their surroundings. Soon they had all piled into the stage, and the driver from Sunnyside started the four horses.
"Look, will yer! It's a regular tally-ho like de swells on Fif' Avenoo drives!" exclaimed the boy who had called d.i.c.k the "rich guy."
The ride to the farm was one continuous series of exclamations of delight from the boys and girls, who looked at the green fields on either side of the country road, at the comfortable farmhouses they pa.s.sed, or at the range of mountains that towered off to the west.
"Look!" exclaimed one boy, who had kept tight hold of his sister's hand from the time he got off the train. "See, Maggie, that's where the sun goes to sleep. I never saw it before."
"Where?" asked the girl.
"Over there," and he pointed to the mountains behind which the golden orb was sinking to rest.
"Yes, dear," spoke the matron, who had overheard what was said, "and in the morning he'll get up and s.h.i.+ne on the fields where you can run around and get strong.
"He's a sickly child," the matron added in a whisper to d.i.c.k. "I'm afraid he never will be strong. He has such queer fancies at times. His mother is a widow and goes out was.h.i.+ng. The sister stays home and takes care of her little brother. It was a real charity that they could come, and I'm sure the committee doesn't know how to thank you for your generosity."
"Oh, pshaw! That's nothing," replied d.i.c.k, blus.h.i.+ng like a girl at the praise. "I ought to do something with my money. I'm glad I heard about this fresh-air plan. I'll have some of the youngsters out next year if----"
Then he stopped. He happened to think that if his investments did not succeed he would not have much money to spend the next year, and, besides, he might be living with his Uncle Ezra at Dankville.
But the matron did not notice his hesitation, for, at that moment, the stage turned into the drive leading up to Sunnyside, and d.i.c.k was besieged by several inquiries.
"Say, mister, is dis a park?" asked one boy, as he saw the well-kept drive.
"No, this is the place where you are going to stay," d.i.c.k replied.
"Can we get out an' walk?" asked another, and this seemed to strike a popular chord, for that request became general. The matron nodded an a.s.sent and the children jumped out of the stage, some boys going by way of the windows.
"You can drive on and tell them we are coming," said d.i.c.k to the driver.
"Oh, I guess they'll know it fast enough," responded the man, with a grin. "You can hear them kids a mile."
Which was true enough, for the boys and girls were fairly yelling in pure delight. d.i.c.k and the matron walked on behind the crowd, the millionaire's son watching with interest the antics of the waifs.
"Johnny! Johnny!" yelled a slip of a girl to her bigger brother. "Come right off the gra.s.s this minute! Do youse want a cop to put you out? He don't know no better, mister," she said, turning to d.i.c.k. "He didn't mean nothin'. Johnny, do you hear me? Come off that gra.s.s right away, or the man will have youse arrested."
"No, no! Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, with a laugh. "You can eat the gra.s.s if you want to. Do just as you please. There isn't a policeman within twenty miles."