THE ORDER OF THE BIG FRONT DOOR.
On the afternoon of the meeting at Miss Brown's, when the silver keys
were distributed, Jim had walked home with Aunt Zelie and said as they
reached the gate, "Thank you very much for the pin, Mrs. Howard; I
mean to remember the motto and be a helper if I can."
"I am sure you do, and you are more than welcome," she replied,
thinking, as she looked into the bright, handsome face, "He wants to
please me now, but perhaps it will grow into a higher motive."
Jim was quite in earnest when he said this. Three months in the Good
Neighbors Club had somewhat changed his point of view. He might still
be inconsiderate and thoughtless, but he no longer defended himself by
saying that every fellow must look out for himself.
The friendship of little John Armstrong was doing much for him. A
strong liking had sprung up between the two, rather to the surprise of
everybody. From the first John showed a decided preference for Jim,
who was so big and strong and capable, everything he himself was not;
and in the same way the helpless weakness of the invalid made its
appeal to the boy who in all his life had never been ill.
Certainly Miss Brown was right when she said that the silver keys
could open a door of pleasure to the lame boy.
The children could not guess the happiness their companionship gave
him. He listened with eager interest to all they told him of their
life at home and at school, and when they were gone he lived it over
again in imagination. He cherished a secret desire to belong to the
Order, but would not have mentioned it for the world, for how could he
help? He wrote the motto in his note-book, and then for weeks spent
all his spare time copying it on parchment in letters taken from an
old English missal, one of his father's treasures, drawing and
coloring them with greatest care. When it was done it was really
beautiful, and Jim, who was in the secret, had it nicely framed and
presented it, as we know, at the next meeting of the Order.
But John wanted to be a real helper. He thought about it a great deal,
but everything was done for him; there seemed to be no chance.
One day he noticed a lot of magazines which his father had been
looking over, and left lying on the floor when he was suddenly called
away. They belonged on the lower shelves of the bookcase, and it
occurred to him that he might replace them. He rolled his chair over
to that side of the room, and with a good deal of effort put them
back in order on the shelves. Then when Dr. Armstrong thanked his wife
that evening for putting them away, and she answered that she had not
even seen them, John had the great delight of surprising them. It sent
him to bed with a happy heart. However, next day he began to doubt
whether so small a thing would count, and when Jim dropped in in the
afternoon he asked his opinion. "Of course, you see, I can't do much
of anything, but I'd like to help a little," he said.
"Count?" said Jim, the despiser of trifles; "of course it does;
everything counts."
He told the boys and Aunt Zelie about it at the next meeting of the
G.N. Club. "I can't help feeling sorry for the little fellow; I never
thought before how hard it would be not to be able to do things like
other people, but just sit still and be waited on; so I told him I
thought it would count. Don't you think so?" Jim looked at Aunt Zelie
appealingly, half afraid the boys would laugh at his soft-heartedness.
"I certainly do," she answered, and Will said, "There are a great many
things he could do, I am sure. Did he ever show you his scrap-books?
They are beautifully done. He could make some smaller ones for the
hospital."
"Why couldn't we make him a member of the Order? He would be so
pleased," said Jim.
"He couldn't come, could he?" asked Ikey, not meaning to object.
"Why couldn't he?" said Carl; "some of us could carry him over as
easily as not."
"I say let's talk it over with the girls and have him here next
Friday," said Will.
The girls entered into it willingly. "Of course he ought to belong,
for he made us that beautiful motto," said Elsie.
"And we must get up something interesting for him," said Louise, who
with Jim was on the entertainment committee.
Aunt Zelie consulted Mrs. Armstrong and found she was not willing to
let John go out at night, so the time of the meeting was changed to
Friday afternoon. Nothing was said to John himself till that morning,
when Carl stopped in on his way to school to invite him.
"Could I go? Do you think I could go, Mother?" he asked eagerly, and
from then until lunch time he lived in delightful anticipation.
After that the minutes dragged till three, when the boys came for him,
and the journey from the parsonage to the star chamber was easily
accomplished. This apartment presented a festive appearance, decorated
with flags and bunting which had done service in one of Aunt Marcia's
numerous charitable entertainments.
"You see, John," Louise explained as soon as his chair had been placed
in a corner from which he could see everything, "Aunt Zelie said we
ought to have colors for our Order, and I thought, and so did Bess
and Dora, that red, white, and blue would be nicest, because they are
the colors of our country. Carl says it is silly, for we are not doing
anything for our country, but I'm sure we would if we could."
As Louise chattered away John looked around him. His motto hung in the
place of honor over the mantel. In front of this was a low platform
which dated back to Uncle William's time, and had often done duty for
tableaux and such things; on it were two chairs and a table for the
President and Secretary. Chairs for the audience were arranged in rows
facing this. It was a most exciting moment to John when Will took the
chair and called the meeting to order in a business-like way. Bess
read the minutes of the last meeting, and Ikey gave the Treasurer's
report. Then came reports from the two clubs, given respectively by
Elsie and Aleck. The M.Ks. were still at work on the afghan for old
Aunt Sallie, which was nearly done, and Miss Brown was reading aloud
to them "A New England Girlhood."
The G.Ns. had finished one of their screens and were at work on
another while they listened to "The Life of Washington."
"Next in order is the election of new members," said Will, and John
started and flushed and then felt ashamed that he could be so silly as
to think he was meant.
Jim rose and said, "Mr. President, I nominate John Armstrong."
This was seconded by Ikey, and the President continued: "John
Armstrong is nominated; all in favor will please say 'aye.'"
The "ayes" were overwhelming, and accompanied by such a clapping of
hands that the President forgot to ask for the "noes."
When it was quiet again John found voice to say timidly, "I'm afraid I
won't amount to much, but I am very much obliged and I'll try."
When Louise pinned a little silver key with a tiny bow of red, white,
and blue ribbon on his coat no Knight of the Garter was ever prouder
of his decoration.
The President announced that he had been told of a little girl who had
to lie on her back for a year on account of some spinal trouble, and
who had almost nothing to amuse her, so if anyone had scrap-books or
toys and would send them to her it would be helping.
John's eyes grew bright; here was something for him to do.
After this the meeting adjourned, the table and chairs were removed
from the platform, a white curtain drawn, the room darkened, and the
audience, such as did not take part, were treated to shadow pictures.
John, who had never seen any before, laughed till he cried at "Lord
Ullin's Daughter" and "The Ballad of the Oysterman." This last was
performed with particularly fine effect by Carl and Louise, and
everybody knows how funny it is when well done.
John was carried home again very tired, but with a radiant face, eager
to show his silver key. As the spring days grew warm and pleasant his
wheeled chair was often seen on the sidewalk, or in the Hazeltines'
garden, where he liked to watch the games of tennis and croquet,
drawing clever little caricatures of the players meanwhile. Somebody
was always ready to wheel him about, and in the pleasure of young
companionship he grew stronger, and his face lost much of its pathetic
look.
About this time old Mr. Ford, whose eyes were growing dim, discovered
that when the print of his paper was particularly fine a pair of
strong young eyes were ready to lend their service. Sweet-tempered
Ikey had always been willing enough to help when it occurred to him,
but his thoughts were likely to be anywhere else than at home, so that
the broadest hints were lost on him. Now, with the little key to
remind him, he was oftener on the lookout for opportunities, and as
the months passed his grandfather was heard to say: "Isaac is a fine
boy, only a little mischievous," and Mrs. Ford added: "Yes, he is
really growing like his father."
The letters that found their way across the sea were not homesick in
these days, and Ikey's mother ceased to worry about him.
In ways like these the silver keys did their work. Their owners did
not forthwith turn into models of helpfulness and unselfishness; such
things need time to grow, and this is exactly what they began to do.
Only little sprouts, hardly to be noticed at first, they gave promise
of being sturdy plants some day.