What Two Children Did Part 19

"DEAR BOBBY'S GRANDFATHER,

"We live next door to Bobby, who is quite often a nice boy, though he wishes us to say always, and we are sorry to learn that you are losing change money, for your sake, and for fear you'll go on and lose ours, Grandmother Van Stark's and the Home's. Ours doesn't matter so much as the others, for we have $9.00 left of our birthday money, and it's lasted so long that it will prob'ly go on lasting, specially if we forget it, or unless we buy more babies, which we shan't do now because of not being able; but dear grandmother without money would be awful, and the Home not to have money for the poor little city children that are sick would be awful, too. Please, please don't lose that, and we will pray for you and love you hard all the days of our life. Amen.

"As there is no more paper in our boxes on account of spoiling so much we will say good-bye.

"ETHELWYN, BETH, NAN, and BOBBY.

"P.S.--The first one she wrote it.

"P.S.--My mother said because she had faith in you was why you have our money, and so have we."

When the banker had finished this somewhat remarkable epistle, of which the children had been so proud, there were tears in his eyes, although his mouth was smiling, and the lines of worry did not seem so deep nor so stern.

He pushed his other mail aside unread, and sat for a long time thinking.

Presently he called for his stenographer, and dictated telegram after telegram, the import of which made that impa.s.sive person start and glance up in amazement several times. Then, seizing a sheet of paper, the banker started to write a letter for himself.

"DEAR CHILDREN, (it began)

"Do not worry. I shall not lose one penny of yours, nor Grandmother Van Stark's, nor the blessed Home's, nor any one's, I hope, but my own, and not enough of that to hurt; at any rate, I shall still have enough, I think, to buy a railroad ticket to Bobby's house. So tell him that I wish he'd tell his mother to have a good supper to-morrow night, and you children must plan it and all come and eat with me.

"Yours, with love,

"BOBBY'S GRANDFATHER.

"P.S.--Be sure to have plenty of candy for supper."

The excitement and the joy that this letter produced were something startling. Away went the worry lines from Mrs. Rayburn's dear face, and back came the laughter the children loved. In Bobby's house they planned a most wonderful menu of fried chicken, candy, cake, and ice cream.

Mandy baked spice cakes at Nan's and Bobby's special request, and n.o.body thought anything whatever about indigestion or after effects; for where everybody laughs and is happy, there is no need to fear indigestion.

The children went to the station to meet the guest, and, when the train came in, greeted him with shouts of welcome, and, proudly surrounding him, marched down the street like a royal procession.

There would not be words enough to describe the feast that followed at Bobby's house. All the children wished to sit next to his grandfather, so that he had to change places at every course (all of which had candy interludes) and thus that mighty matter was accomplished to the entire satisfaction of the children.

And after supper Bobby's grandfather played games with them and soon lost his worry lines, probably on the floor where he was playing horse or bear. No one picked them up, so it isn't positively known where he lost them. When Ethelwyn and Beth suddenly bethought themselves that they were to go with their mother to the Home the next day, to take Joe's sister there, it was at once decided that Bobby and Nan should go too, for one beautiful outing before school should begin.

"And we will need it," said Bobby, with a deep sigh over the arduous educational duties before him.

Then Bobby's grandfather brought out some curious k.n.o.bby-looking bundles from his valise, and while the children shut their eyes, he hid the packages and then turned the children loose to find them. There was a great outfit of Kate Greenaway writing paper for Ethelwyn; a black doll-baby apiece for Beth and Nan; and a watch with a leather fob and jockey cap attachments for his namesake, Bobby. There were also a book and a game for each one. While they were playing with their gifts, Mrs.

Rayburn and Bobby's grandfather talked apart, and it was a happy talk, as Ethelwyn and Beth could see when they came up to where they were sitting.

When at last it was time to say good-night, Ethelwyn and Beth had a surprise for Bobby's grandfather. It was four silver dollars. "Two of our dollars are gone to help take Joe's sister to the Home," Beth explained, "but this is for you on account of your losing the change money. It's from us all, instead of good-bye presents we were going to get for Nan and Bobby. They said they'd rather."

Bobby's grandfather hesitated just a little and was about to make a gesture of refusal, when, seeing their mother shake her head, he kissed the children's red cheeks and said, with a shake in his voice, "You dear children, I'll keep these and your letter, as long as I live, so as not to forget your faith in me."

_CHAPTER XX_ _The Visit to the Home_

On the train we ran through rain, Then out in sun and blue; And all the trees bent down and raced, And all the houses too.

Somehow, that night, after the children were all in bed, and the grown people were talking over the next day's journey, it seemed to Bobby's grandfather that he too would like to go along, and he said he could not for the life of him see why Bobby's mother should not go too, and also Nan's father and mother if they wished.

Well, it was short notice, but by telegraphing, telephoning and telling by mouth they arranged it; and the next morning quite an imposing party boarded the Eastbound Limited, and took possession of the drawing-room car, for Bobby's grandfather never did things on a n.i.g.g.ardly plan.

He and Bobby's mother were seated on one side, and Nan's mother (her father could not leave) and Mrs. Rayburn were across from them, while Nan, Ethelwyn, Beth, and Bobby appeared and disappeared, like meteors, in the most unexpected places. Joe's sister was not well enough that day to accompany them, so it was arranged that her brother should bring her as soon as she felt better.

If I have, by the use of the word "grandfather," given you an idea of decrepitude and old age, in the case of Bobby's grandfather, I wish at once to change that idea.

He was a very erect and handsome man, with a white mustache indeed, but with a firm mouth underneath that gave no sign of diminished force.

He had always told Mrs. Rayburn that he thought it was very foolish for her to give such large sums of money for charity.

"It's not right," he now repeated, twirling his mustache. The morning paper lay across his knees, and, as he spoke, with an air of finality and disapproval, he picked it up.

"What isn't right, grandfather?" asked Bobby, suddenly appearing on the back of his chair, and encircling his grandfather's neck with a pair of st.u.r.dy legs.

His grandfather drew him down by one leg into his lap.

"Giving all your money away to people who don't appreciate it," he explained.

"How do you know they don't?" asked Bobby.

"Because, sir, people don't appreciate what is given to them, as much as they do what they earn."

Bobby pondered over this.

"I like my Christmas presents better than the money I get for chopping kindling," he replied at length; "because the Christmas money is more, for one thing."

"And more certain," put in his mother, laughing; "the kindling money isn't always earned."

"Are you talking about the Home money?" asked Ethelwyn, looking over the back of the chair in front of them.

"Yes."

"But we like to give it, and so will you, when you see how nice it is, and d.i.c.k and Aunty Stevens and the best cookies that she can make.

What's the good of keeping money? We can always buy more down at your bank," she concluded easily.

"You may not always think so, young lady, nor take such wide views of things. When you grow up, you may wish you had more money," said the banker, laughing.

"Does keeping money make folks happy?" inquired Beth, suddenly popping up.

The lines in grandfather's face deepened, and there came over it a look of care.

"Not always, child, I must confess," he said at length.

"Besides, my father says not to lay up treasure for roth and must to corrupt!" put in Nan, coming to the surface. At this, they all shouted, much to Nan's discomfiture.