THE Boy was going out to Roxbury. He was going alone, though he was
only five years old. His Aunt Mary had put him in the horse car, and
the car went directly past his house; and the Boy “hoped he _did_ know
enough to ask somebody big to ask the conductor to stop the car.”
So there the Boy was, all alone and very proud, with his legs sticking
straight out, because they were not long enough to hang over,—but he
did not mind that, because it showed his trousers all the better,—and
his five cents clutched tight in his little warm hand.
Proud as he was, the Boy had a slight feeling of uneasiness somewhere
down in the bottom of his heart. His Aunt Mary had just been reading
“Jack and the Bean-stalk” to him, and he was not quite sure that the
man opposite him was not an ogre. He was a very, very large man, about
twelve feet tall, the boy thought, and at least nine feet round. He had
a wide mouth, full of sharp-looking teeth, and he rolled his eyes as he
read the newspaper. He was not dressed like an ogre, and he carried no
knife in sight; but it might be in one of the pockets of his big gray
coat.
Altogether, the Boy did not like the looks of this man at all, but
nobody else seemed to mind him. A pretty girl sat down close beside
him,—a plump, tender-looking young girl,—but the big man took no notice
of her or anybody else, and kept on reading his newspaper and rolling
his eyes.
So the Boy sat still, only keeping a good lookout, so that if this
formidable person _should_ pull out a knife, or begin to grind his
teeth and roar, “Fee! fi! fo! fum!” he could slip off the seat and out
at the door before his huge enemy could get upon his feet.
The car began to fill up rapidly. Soon every seat was occupied, and
several men were standing up. One of them trod, by accident, on the
ogre’s toe,—the Boy could not help calling him the ogre, though he
felt it might not be right,—and he gave a kind of growl, which made
the Boy quiver and prepare to jump; but his eyes never moved from his
newspaper, so the Boy sat still.
By and by a poor woman got in, with a heavy baby in her arms. She
looked very tired, but though there were several other men sitting down
beside the big gray one, no one moved to give the woman a seat.
The boy remembered his manners, and knew that he ought to get up; but
then came the thought, “If I get up, I shall be close to the ogre, for
there is no standing-room anywhere else. I am wedged so close between
these two ladies that I can hardly get out: and if I do, there cannot
possibly be room for that large woman.”
The Boy gave heed to this thought, though he knew in his heart that it
did not make any difference. Just then the tired woman gave a sigh and
shifted the heavy baby to the other arm.
The Boy did not wait any longer, but slipped at once down from his
seat. “Here is a little room, ma’am!” he said, in his clear, childish
voice. “There isn’t enough for you, but you might put the baby down,
and rest your arms.”
At that moment the car gave a lurch, and the Boy lost his balance and
fell forward,—right against the knees of the ogre.
“Hi! hi!” said the big man, putting aside his newspaper, “what’s all
this? Hey?”
The Boy could not speak for fright; but the poor woman answered, “It’s
the dear little gentleman offering me his seat for the baby, sir! The
Lord bless him for a little jewel that he is!”
“Hi! hi!” growled the big man, getting heavily up from his seat and
still holding the boy’s arm, which he had grasped as the child fell,
“this won’t do! One gentleman in the car, eh? And an old fellow reading
his newspaper! Here, sit down here, my friend!” and he helped the woman
to his seat, and bowed to her as if she were a duchess. “And as for
you, Hop-o’-my-thumb—” Then he stooped and took the Boy up, and set him
on his left arm, which was as big as a table. “There, sir!” he said,
“sit you there and be comfortable, as you deserve.”
The Boy sat very still; indeed, he was too frightened to move. Since
the man had called him Hop-o’-my-thumb, he was quite sure that he
must be an ogre; perhaps the very ogre from whom Hop and his brothers
escaped. The book said he died, but books do not always tell the truth;
Papa said so.
When the big man began to feel in the right-hand pockets of his gray
coat, the child trembled so excessively that he shook the great arm on
which he sat.
The man looked quickly at him. “What is the matter, my lad?” he asked;
and his voice, though gruff, did not sound unkind. “You are not afraid
of a big man, are you? Do you think I am an ogre?”
“Yes!” said the boy; and he gave one sob, and then stopped himself.
The gray man burst into a great roar of laughter, which made every one
in the car jump in his seat.
Still laughing, he drew his hand from his pocket, and in it was—not
a knife, but a beautiful, shining, golden pear. “Take that, young
Hop-o’-my-thumb,” he said, putting it in the Boy’s hands. “If you will
eat that, I promise not to eat you,—not even to take a single bite. Are
you satisfied?”
The boy ventured to raise his eyes to the man’s face; and there he
saw such a kind, funny, laughing look that before he knew it he was
laughing, too.
“I don’t believe you are an ogre, after all!” he said.
“Don’t you?” said the big man. “Well, neither do I! But you may as well
eat the pear, just the same.”
And the Boy did.