AT HOME.
This arrangement was immediately carried into effect, because Tom did
not wait for an expression of opinion regarding it.
He led Sadie across the square, and the other members of the party were
left alone, Farmer Shindle saying, when the child was hidden from view
by the throng of pedestrians:--
“You’ve done a good deed, ’Siah, no matter what mother says. It’s a
burnin’ shame for that poor little thing to have to earn her livin’
sellin’ matches on the street. I’ll pay for the railroad tickets,
an’ you can spend your money as you like.” Then, conscious of having
obeyed a kindly impulse, and feeling better because of it, the farmer
bethought himself of the plans he had made for enjoying this brief
visit, and asked, “Ain’t there a wax figger show somewhere ’round
here?”
“Yes, sir,” Bob replied. “I know of a big one way up town; but it costs
fifty cents to go in.”
“I don’t care if they tax six shillings apiece, we’re goin’ with the
whole crowd. It’s the first time I’ve been in the city with nothin’ to
do, for more’n two years. I’ve begun by agreein’ to pay that little
girl’s way out home, an’ I guess I can stand three or four dollars
more. Show us where it is, Bob, an’ I’ll buy the tickets.”
Under Master Green’s guidance the party walked toward Broadway until
Farmer Shindle remembered that Tom was in danger of losing his share of
the sight-seeing, and suddenly halted as he said:--
“Now look here, I don’t like to cheat that Bartlett boy outer the fun
while he’s helpin’ the little girl. S’pose you run after him, Bob?
’Siah an’ me’ll see enough right here on this corner to keep us amused
till you get back, for it ain’t often we have sich a chance.”
Bob, who had been regretting his partner’s absence, was more than
willing to act upon the suggestion, and set out at full speed, in order
to economize time.
So intent was Josiah and his father on the scenes around them, that it
hardly seemed more than five minutes before the boys returned, both
looking radiantly happy because of the good fortune in store for Sadie.
Although Mr. Shindle’s destination was the “wax figure show” on
Twenty-Third street, considerable time was occupied in reaching the
place, for he found it necessary to stop here and there, and look about
him quite as often as had Josiah.
Tom and Bob piloted the party directly up Broadway, doing the utmost
to keep their guests in motion; for now that his father was with him,
it seemed as if Josiah’s exclamations of delight were louder and more
frequent than before.
The pedestrians enjoyed the odd antics of these Berry Corner
pleasure-seekers to such an extent, that before the party had reached
Bleecker street the attention which they received was even more
apparent than Bob and Tom fancied desirable.
“We’ll have to hurry the old man along faster’n this,” the former said
in a whisper, “else we’ll have the whole city taggin’ after us. He’s
actin’ worse’n Josiah ever dared to, an’ how it’ll be when we get up
among the swell stores, I don’t know.”
“I reckon it would be a good idea to holler fire, when he gets so much
of a crowd ’round him,” Tom suggested. “Perhaps if we did that we could
run him pretty near all the way up.”
“I don’t b’lieve it would work, ’cause he’d soon find out there wasn’t
anything the matter, an’ we don’t want to make the old man mad. He was
too good last summer for us to play any funny business.”
“Then tell him if we don’t get there pretty soon, the show’ll be
closed. That’ll settle it.”
Bob did as his friend suggested; and the possibility that he might lose
the opportunity of seeing this exhibition, of which he had read and
heard so much, caused Mr. Shindle to accelerate his pace, greatly to
the delight of his guides.
The old gentleman walked rapidly several moments, and then they had
arrived in front of a toy-store.
Here he came to a full halt; and it is questionable if even a genuine
alarm of fire would have caused him to move on, unless, by chance, the
engine had passed within sight.
He appeared to take as much pleasure in looking at the toy soldiers,
dolls, and miniature base-ball outfits as did Josiah; and the two
flattened their noses against the window in blissful ignorance of the
amusement they were affording the spectators.
Mr. Shindle compared the toys with such as he had owned when he was a
child, and speculated with Josiah as to what he would buy for Sadie
if he was possessed of unlimited means, until one would have found it
difficult, judging simply from the conversation, to say which was the
elder of the two.
“I reckon your mother would go jest about wild if she was to see a
thing like this,” Mr. Shindle said, when Bob had tried in vain several
moments to induce him to continue the journey up town.
“I wish you’d brought her with you,” Josiah replied. “You can’t think
how many things I’ve seen that I knew both she an’ you’d like, since
I’ve been here, an’ it seemed too bad we couldn’t all have been
together.”
“I did ask her if she wouldn’t come down; but she’s forever thinkin’
about how much the railroad ticket costs; an’ while I don’t want to
make any complaint against your mother, Josiah, I must say she’s a
master hand at figgerin’ how many cents there are in a dollar, so I
don’t know as we’ve got any call to blame her. You see, for a good many
years we had an up-hill row to hoe, an’ she’s buckled down to it so
long, that now when we’re a little fore-handed, she can’t get free of
them ways of scrimpin’.”
In due course of time, Bob’s and Tom’s efforts were rewarded with
success, and the little party moved on, slowly to be sure, but, as Bob
said, they were “headin’ the right way,” and it was only a question of
an hour or more when they would arrive at their destination.
Bill Foss could not have been more jaunty in his manner, even when
making his best efforts to do honor to Josiah in order to pave the way
for the summer’s visit, than was Mr. Shindle when he stepped in front
of the ticket-office at the “wax-figure show,” and purchased the cards
of admission.
“It’s a good deal of money to pay out for two or three hour’s fun,” he
said in a confidential tone to the gentleman in the box-office, as the
latter returned three dollars in change for a five, accompanying them
with four bits of pasteboard which would pass the party by the Cerberus
at the door; “but you see when a man don’t come down to the city more’n
once in two years, I reckon he can afford it.”
This explanation of his almost criminal prodigality had the effect
of soothing the farmer’s mind, so far as the expenditure of two
dollars was concerned, and the four entered the museum in open-mouthed
astonishment.
This was a place which neither Tom nor Bob had ever visited before,
owing to the high price of admission; and they were quite as much
delighted as were their country friends, although both took especial
care to prevent giving such palpable evidences of their enjoyment.
In a very few moments the young gentlemen of Newspaper Row were wearied
with looking at the figures of celebrities, and Bob said confidently to
his companion:--
“I don’t understand how it is they charge half a dollar jest to come
in here and see these people. I can find a good many more on Broadway
any day;” and it is very likely they would have voted this particular
exhibition a failure, when taken in connection with the amount charged
for admission, had it not been that Josiah accidentally found his way
down the staircase to the Chamber of Horrors.
He came back swiftly, his eyes gleaming with astonishment, his face
almost pale, and exclaimed in a voice trembling with surprise and
emotion:--
“Come down here quick! They’re murderin’ folks, an’ hangin’ ’em, an’
everything else! It’s awful nice!”
Tom and Bob had nothing more to say about the entrance fee, for here
was an opportunity to drink their fill of horrors.
During the next fifteen minutes not a single member of the party spoke,
as they walked from one scene to another in what was really like silent
fear.
“This is an awful wicked world,” Farmer Shindle said solemnly, when he
had fully understood the seven stages of the burglar’s life, “an’ if
ever the time comes when I get tired stayin’ out to Berry’s Corner,
I’ll come right down here. It’s enough to make a man wish there never
was such places as cities. Say, Bob, do you s’pose them figgers are all
wax, or are they reg’lar skins stuffed?”
Master Green should have acknowledged that he was unable to answer this
question, but it seemed hardly the proper thing for him to confess his
ignorance, and he replied gravely:--
“I reckon some of ’em’s wax, an’ some of ’em ain’t. I’m pretty certain
that feller what’s goin’ to have his head cut off is a reg’lar man
stuffed. I s’pose they glued him together after the choppin’ was over.”
This made the scene of the guillotine more realistic, and the little
party paused in front of the terrible picture until Mr. Shindle said
with a sigh:--
“It’s no use, boys, I’ve got enough of this sort of thing, even if
it did cost half a dollar apiece. I reckon we’d better go out on the
street where we can see somethin’ more lively. If there’s any chance
’round here to get a bite to eat, I wouldn’t mind payin’ for a cup of
coffee an’ a fried cake.”
“There’s lots of places like that,” Bob said quickly; for the idea of
having a lunch at an uptown restaurant was even more entrancing than
anything to be found in the museum.
Ten minutes later the four were seated at a marble-topped table, which
Mr. Shindle thought out of place in such an establishment, since, as he
said, “wood would have done jest as well so long as it was made strong
enough to hold the feed, an’ wouldn’t have come nearly so expensive.”
Josiah’s father generously allowed his guests to order what they
wished, and this was done without reference to the bill of fare.
A thoroughly enjoyable lunch it was until the check had been brought,
and then the amount caused even more consternation than had the one at
Coney Island among the chowder-eaters.
The farmer looked at it a moment in eloquent silence, and then said, as
he plunged his hand with a certain deliberation into his pocket:--
“I reckon it’s jest as well for me that I don’t come to the city very
often, ’cordin’ to the price we’re gettin’ for potatoes now. I don’t
groan over payin’ two dollars to go into a show like the one we jest
come out of; but when they can figger up a dollar and seventy-five
cents for two or three mouthfuls such as we’ve had, it strikes me we’re
goin’ it pretty strong, eh, Josiah?”
“Things are awful expensive in the city, father. I’ve found that out
since I’ve been here;” and then the heir of the Shindle estate told of
the amount spent at Coney Island, until his father began to look upon
Messrs. Green and Bartlett as capitalists, if they could afford to
entertain their guests in such a manner.
“It’s no use to cry over spilled milk, so I won’t say anything more
about it; but it’ll be a long day before I set down to a dollar and
seventy-five cent meal agin.”
Then it seemed as if the farmer put from his mind all idea of the value
of money, and from that hour until the day’s pleasuring had come to
an end, there was not a moment which had in it less than sixty full
seconds of perfect enjoyment.
Farmer Shindle not only invited the boys to several other places of
interest, but purchased peanuts and candy with the recklessness of a
spendthrift, until there was every probability the entire party would
need strong doses of Jamaica ginger before morning.
The inhabitants of Baker’s Court were in a ferment of excitement when
the amusement-seekers finally returned.
All were acquainted with the little match-girl, and more than once had
they discussed the possibility of doing something to aid her for whom
the battle of life had begun so early; but thus far nothing had been
accomplished.
Instantly word was brought of the farmer’s generous invitation,
however, every mother in the vicinity bent all her energies toward
replenishing Sadie’s scanty wardrobe; and when Mr. Shindle and the boys
arrived, she presented a much neater and more cleanly appearance than
ever since Tom had known her.
Josiah purchased for his mother a lace cap that he thought a marvel of
beauty because of the bright red ribbons with which it was tied. In
making the selection he was aided by his father, who told him, as if
it was a great secret, that when his mother was young she always wore
red, therefore there could be no mistake if he selected a head covering
plentifully bedecked with this color.
Fifty cents more of his rapidly diminishing capital had been invested
in a gaudily-painted but not very serviceable whip for his father, and
thus Josiah was to carry home gifts despite his charitable scheme.
Then the huge valise was brought down-stairs, and Farmer Shindle said,
as he seized it by the leathern handles:--
“We’ll take good care of the little girl, neighbors, an’ next summer,
if mother an’ me are spared, I reckon the crops will be big enough so’s
we can stand the feed of a dozen youngsters from ’round here, who I
allow don’t see a spear of grass from one year’s end to another.”
* * * * *
One afternoon in December, when snow covered the brown earth with
a mantle of whiteness, as the sleek, well-fed cows and horses were
housed in the warm barn, munching contentedly the hay gathered for
their especial benefit, and all Nature was under the Ice King’s rule,
the Shindle family, with the match-girl in their midst, sat before a
roaring fire in the rag-carpeted kitchen, enjoying the genial warmth
all the more because of the intense cold outside.
During fully ten minutes not a word had been spoken; and then the
farmer said as he laid his hand on the head of the tiny girl, who was
sitting upon a footstool near Mrs. Shindle’s side, learning to knit:--
“It would have been pretty hard lines, mother, if this little thing
was obliged to walk the streets of that great, big city tryin’ to earn
money enough for her feed.”
“Indeed it would, father, and while we live she shall never again know
what it is to be homeless,” the good woman replied, as she stroked the
brown hair of the little head which had dropped into her lap to hide
the tears of gratitude.
Happy and contented as were all the inmates of the kitchen, there was a
certain huskiness in the farmer’s voice as he added:--
“After all, mother, it ain’t givin’ we are, it’s receivin’, because she
gives more’n she takes. I reckon when ’Siah an’ me lugged her away from
New York, it was cuttin’ a mighty big coupon from them five shares of
the fresh-air fund we invested in last summer.”
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious errors and omissions in punctuation have been fixed.
Page 42: “Owing to the excitment” changed to “Owing to the excitement”
Page 210: “owning a newstand” changed to “owning a newsstand”