Divided Skates Part 13

Miss Armacost's face expressed the fact that she was undertaking a vast enterprise, and was rather frightened now by her own temerity.

"Oh! I'll tell you!" cried Molly eagerly.

"Tell what, child?"

"The boarding-house woman! She's the checker!"

"The what?"

"She's the one to feed them! Oh! please! It would be so splendid for her, She's so poor, and has such trouble to pay rent and keep going.

She is too generous for her own good, father says, and keeps her house too well. She would cook for them and they could eat in her big dining-room. There'd be plenty of room, for she takes 'mealers' extra.

Oh! if you say so I'll run and call her over. Do you?"

Miss Armacost felt, for one brief moment, as if she were being turned out of her own abode. When she decided to adopt Towsley, she did not decide to open her doors to the whole of Side Street, or even Newspaper Square. Yet here she was, she--the aristocratic Lucy Armacost, who had hitherto a.s.sociated with n.o.body whose pedigree could not match her own for length and distinction--here was she, consorting with newsboys, reporters, daughters of plumbers, boarding-house women, and what not! What was worse, according to her past ideas, she had never felt so interested, so warm and comfortable in her heart, in short so human as she did now. So, after that brief interval of reflection, she turned toward the bright-eyed Molly and nodded gayly:

"Run, my dear, and ask the lady if she can step over here for a little while. When the gentleman returns and we learn about the stages, we will hold a general consultation and get everything settled."

As if in emphasis of her decision again, just then, the door-bell gave another of its mysterious rings; but to all who heard it there seemed something quite joyous and full of antic.i.p.ation in the peal. They all tuned the sound, in fact, to their own happy thoughts.

Molly laughed and dashed out of the house; Lionel brought a stool and sat by Miss Lucy's feet, and even old Jefferson ventured across from the stable to warm himself at the kitchen range, and, incidentally, to ask if his mistress needed anything.

"Yes, Jefferson, we need your voice in counsel. I have friends with me this morning. A gentleman, a reporter from the _Express_ office; a lady from Side Street is expected, and 'Jolly Molly'; besides, your young master here. We are all planning to give a big sleigh-ride to all the poor boys in town, or nearly all; and as you know the prettiest and safest drives about the country, you might tell us where to go. You see, after a turn in the park, I think they'll all enjoy a regular country ride. Away and away, where there are evergreens that they may break, if they choose, and holly bushes bright with berries, that are not prohibited like private property. You are to take the horses and our own sleigh and Molly's mother and Molly, while--well, I'll hunt up somebody to look after the twins while they're gone; and--here comes the gentleman back, and that must be the electrician he is bringing with him."

"I've 'phoned for the sleighs and engaged enough to carry all the boys in the city; but we can't have them till to-morrow!" cried the reporter gayly. "If I've gone beyond your limit, I'll help foot the bill. Or I and the other men at the office; I know I can pledge for them a share of the expense. This is our electrician--and, if you please, I'll just go down with him and find out what happens. I'm always interested to 'see things.'"

In a few moments there came out from that lower s.p.a.ce where the two men were working a hearty peal of laughter; and eager to impart the solution of the ghost story, the reporter rejoined them.

"Mice! Just mice--'and nothing more!'" quoted the amused Mr. Graham.

"_Mice!_ How in the world could mice ring an electric bell?" asked Miss Armacost, as greatly astonished as relieved.

"Much more easily than any other kind."

Then he went on to explain something about "insulations," "gnawing,"

"running across and completing the circuit," and a deal more of technical description, which confused Miss Lucy quite as much as it did all the others who heard it.

"Well," declared the lady, after vainly trying to comprehend what seemed so exceedingly simple to Mr. Graham and the electrician, "I don't care at all about all that. Since it's only a mouse, let's forget that subject and get on to a more interesting one--our picnic sleigh-ride. Here come Molly and a lady; I suppose the one who is to help us feed our guests."

It was all very quickly settled, as everything is into which the heart really enters; the happy boarding-house keeper started for market with injunctions from Miss Armacost to "spare no expense and select the best," and quite sure in her own heart that her labor would be well paid for. Besides, she was so kindly herself that, had there been no remuneration for her services, she would gladly have given them. Being a fine cook, and now a.s.sured that she would not have to "pinch"

anywhere or run herself into the dreaded "debt," she went to work with a will; and the stall-keepers down at Lexington Market fairly opened their eyes at the orders she gave with such a lavish hand.

"Newsboys? sleigh-ride? free dinner afterward? Well, of course we'll help. No; don't take that turkey. It's an old one. Here; I'll pick out a lot for you. How many? My sake! That is a heap, indeed! Well, you just go across and get your cranberries and celery and other stuff, and I'll send my wagon up with you to carry the whole business."

"Wonderful, how one generous deed begets another!" thought the happy woman, whose face had lost its chronic expression of worriment, and who thought nothing of the hours she would have to spend over a hot range, since her doing so was to help in gladdening the hearts of earth's unfortunate little ones.

"If the snow will only last!" cried Molly Johns, as she took a last peep out of the window on the evening before the "sleigh-ride day," as it was ever after designated.

"Oh! it will last, la.s.sie," answered father Johns, cheerily. "Get you to bed, my child, and to sleep, if you can. What honors have we come to, in our humble Side Street! and all because of a little kindness in the first place. Here are mother and you to go sleighing in a grand equipage, with feathers flying and a mortal-proud coachy on the front seat, heading a procession of the wildest, happiest youngsters in the world. Get you to bed, daughter, without a fear. Do you suppose the dear Lord will let anything arise to prevent the joy He has planned for the morrow? No, indeed."

Nothing did arise. At twelve o'clock precisely, because that was the warmest, sunniest hour of the day, the big, big sleigh which had to be drawn by eight gray horses, it was so long and awkward, drew into place in Newspaper Square. There were other sleighs, too, and every one was heaped with robes and blankets; so that the little half-clad youngsters who were to ride in them should be well protected from the cold. There were horns and trumpets--"What is a ride without a trumpet?" demanded reporter Graham, who provided the rackety things--and bells and baskets of sandwiches, "just to keep one contented till the great dinner came on."

So they started, and old Jefferson forgot to be a trifle haughty, as he realized that he was the leader of that happy, happy procession. Be sure he led them a lovely road all about the charming park, and then far beyond, into the open country, where the boys begged to be tumbled out into a snow-drift for a regular pitched battle.

The halt was made, for who could refuse such a pet.i.tion from a lad on his first sleigh-ride? And for as long as the careful drivers would permit their horses to stand, the s...o...b..a.l.l.s flew through the air, and the countryside was made to ring with the wild sport and laughter. All this but aided appet.i.te; and when at last the ride ended in astonished Side Street, before the doorway of the boarding mistress, every newsboy was so hungry he declared he "could eat his hat."

"Well, you won't have to!" cried somebody.

There was Doctor Frank, as sure as could be! He wasn't to be left out of any such good times if he could help it. It was he, with Mr.

Graham, who marshalled the lads into something like order and planted them all over the boarding mistress' house, wherever a spot could be found for them to sit. But, if you please, Mr. Graham kept that tell-tale pad of his right handy, and between whiles how he would write! For he meant that a thoroughly interesting and inspiring account of the day should be in that very night's paper.

"So that others may go and do likewise!" he thought, and for once without the least concern how much "s.p.a.ce" he could occupy and be paid for.

At last it was all over. Everybody had eaten as much as he desired, and the big sleighs came round to convey the lads back to Newspaper Square, to the old lives of labor and, alas! poverty; but which were to be far brighter, for a long time to come, because of that one day's hilarious enjoyment.

In the cheery back parlor, that evening, Miss Lucy a.s.sembled a little group of people. There were father Johns, and Doctor Frank, and Mr.

Graham; besides Molly and Towsley--I mean Lionel--sitting cosily together on one of the very same satin sofas of which, such a little while before, they had both been afraid.

With a slight hesitation, Miss Lucy began:

"I believe that this has been the happiest day of my life. I hope it is a happiness which will continue, because it is the beginning of a life for others. But I wish to make that life as wise as possible. I am afraid of mistakes. I want your advice; the advice of every one here present. I mean to adopt this boy, Towsley--the new Lionel Armacost. Tell me, friends, how best can I rear him to be a blessing to his race?"

For a moment n.o.body answered; then said father Johns, in his wise, cheery way:

"Since our boy here is to be the beneficiary, let us hear his idea of what _he_ would think best."

"Right, right!" said the reporter, who had faith in all his craft.

"Well, am I to tell?" asked the once shy newsboy eagerly.

"Yes, indeed. Tell freely, exactly; without a particle of hesitation."

"Yes, my dear, what would you like your future to be?"

"Well, then, Miss Lucy, I would like first of all to live right here with you and to make you as happy, to take as good care of you, as I can. But I wouldn't like to do it all alone! I'd like to have some other fellows here, too. As many as you could afford to take. I'd like each one to learn just what he likes. There's the Bugler. He's just chock full of tunes. If he had a chance he might make beautiful music some day, like them big duffers what wrote the operas, you know. I'd give him music lessons if I could. I'd have Battles taught to be a regular soldier or sailor. He's forever in a row, and he'd ought to do the right kind of fighting, hadn't he?"

"Very sensibly put, Tows; go on," urged the reporter.

"s.h.i.+ner's a whittler. He's always cutting things in the door frames and buildings, and getting scolded by the folks that own them.

He ought to be a carpenter and whittle something worth while.

There--there are others--but I guess I'm planning too much."

"Not a bit, my dear. Yet you say nothing of yourself. What would you like to become, Lionel?"

"I'd like to learn _everything_; and when I grow up I'll write for a paper!"

It was such a characteristic wish that all the company laughed. Then remarked father Johns:

"I reckon, Miss Armacost, that the lad's idea of a 'home,' an 'asylum,' is a place where poor children can be taught to become useful bread-winners. Apparently, he doesn't think a life of rich idleness can be the happiest."