The fight, begun a little after three o'clock in the afternoon that 24th
of December, was still raging furiously when the hands of the big clock
on the market tower pointed to half past four, and the pale sun was
preparing to bid the world good-by until Christmas morning.
Snow-balls, some of them as hard as stones, were flying in every
direction.
The Tins, yelling like wild Indians, were rushing up on and scrambling
over the snow-covered piles of wood, brick, and mortar that lay in
front of the half-dug-out cellar of the new building that was to be in
Short Street.
The Woods, yelling like some more wild Indians, were sallying out from
the cellar--named "Fort Hurrah" for the occasion--and driving the enemy
back, every now and then capturing two or three of them, and dragging
them triumphantly into the fort.
There had been war between the Wood Street boys and the Tin Street boys
for more than a year. It originated in Tim Ashburner's taking Jack
Lubs's parrot--which Jack had lent to him for a week only--into the
country with him, and keeping it there all vacation.
Jack Lubs's father, who was a sea-captain, had brought this parrot from
some far-distant land, together with a monkey, which Mrs. Lubs said, the
moment she saw it, she would _not_ have in the house. "Parrots were bad
enough, but monkeys--no indeed!"
So Jack was obliged to sell Boomerang, and he sold it so many times--the
little creature being always returned on account of its mischievousness
and destructiveness--that he became the richest boy in marbles, balls,
knives, and nickels for blocks around. And when no other acquaintance
could be found anxious to secure Boom for a household companion, Jack
gave him to a showman, who had pitched his tent in an adjoining square,
for an order admitting "bearer and friends" to the show. But when
"bearer" presented that order shortly after, accompanied by "friends" to
the number of two-and-twenty, the showman opened his eyes very wide
indeed, and exclaimed, "Great elephants! I'll never be caught that way
again."
But it wasn't only the stealing--I mean the taking--of the parrot that
caused the trouble, for Ashburner brought it back in good condition, it
was the adding of insult to injury by teaching it to say, in a hoarse
voice, "Hi! Squint-eye, ho! Squint-eye, shiver your timbers, _please_."
This remark the lawful owner justly considered somewhat personal, he
being the son of a sailor, and having an eye that did not look as
straight ahead as its companion eye did. And after he had been sainted
with "Hi! Squint-eye, ho! Squint-eye, shiver your timbers, _please_" at
short intervals for an entire Saturday morning, he became very angry,
and the result of his anger was that he and four of his chummiest chums
decided to go round to Tin Street and demand satisfaction.
They went, and were met by Ashburner, who was on his way home from the
baker's with a pumpkin pie. As soon as he learned their errand, however,
he, in the most obliging manner, placed the pie on the nearest stoop,
and quickly mustering four of _his_ chummiest chums, gave them
"satisfaction"; that is, if a black eye for Jack, and sundry swollen
lips and noses for his comrades, can be called by that name. As for the
Ashburner party, with the exception of the pumpkin pie being squashed,
that received no injuries whatever.
This doesn't seem exactly right, for Lubs certainly had cause for
complaint in the first place. But Justice, they say, is blind, and I
suppose that is the reason why she makes mistakes once in a while.
Jack went home breathing vengeance, and his chums, feeling called upon
by the sacred voice of Friendship to breathe vengeance too, from that
day forth there was war between the Woods, under Captain Lubs, and the
Tins, under Captain Ashburner, first one side and then the other being
victorious.
The two companies took their names from the streets in which they lived.
These streets were on the outskirts of the city and only a block long,
and ran in such a way that they, with a very short block named Short
Street as a base, formed an isosceles triangle. At the point of this
triangle was a drug-store having two front doors, one on each street.
The Shorts were part of them "Woods" and part of them "Tins," and their
street faced the open square on the nearest side of which the new
building already mentioned had been begun.
"Such a splendid place for a fight we'll never get again," said
Lieutenant Rube Howell, to his captain. "The workmen have gone home, and
nobody passes that way 'count of the heaps of stuff. I say, Lubs, let's
have a last grand battle to end the old year with."
"You're right, Rube," said Lubs, and forthwith sent a challenge to the
Tins' commander, and soon a lively skirmish for the possession of the
fort--the half-dug-out cellar with a rough board fence around it--was
going on.
The Woods won it, and then the fight began in earnest.
Captain Lubs, waving his sword--a long lath--above his head, and his
lieutenant, backed by their men, mounted the fence, and derisively
requested the besiegers to "come on!" The besiegers, led by Captain
Ashburner, waving his sword--a broad strip of tin--above his head, and
his lieutenant, Jimmy Mullally, did come on.
Over the snowy hills they rushed, slipping, falling, and scrambling to
their feet again; swarming up the fence, to be knocked off by
well-directed blows; crawling under the fence in hopes of catching an
enemy by the legs, and being caught by the heads themselves, or making
narrow escapes, leaving behind them locks of hair, and taking away
scratches and bruises.
Lieutenant Mullally twisted his ankle, and sank down groaning behind an
embankment. Little Willie Bond's cheek was badly cut with a pebbled
snow-ball. A dozen other boys were more or less hurt.
The fight grew fast and furious. Neither side stopped to look after its
wounded, when small Bond, who had climbed a ladder leaning against a
pile of brick, and who was sitting on the topmost round nursing his
wounded face, called out, in his shrillest voice,
"Halloo! a flag of truce! H-a-l-l-o-o! a flag of truce is comin'."
"Don't belong to us," shouted the Woods.
"Don't belong to us," shouted the Tins.
"It's only a girl," said Mullally, getting up on one leg; whereupon his
captain, spying him, asked in an indignant tone,
"What are you shirkin' for, Lally? They've got ten of our men. Tins to
the rescue! Tins to the rescue!" And in his excitement he let his
flashing sword fall so suddenly on the head of the warrior next to him
that that warrior immediately bit the dust--snow, I should say. At the
same moment a scout flying in with the cry, "It's Lady Rags," fell over
him at the captain's feet.
"It's Lady Rags," ran through the ranks.
"It's Lady Rags," Lubs informed his soldiers from the ramparts, and
deserting the fort, they all joined him on the sidewalk, their prisoners
promptly seizing the chance to escape.
A young girl bearing a white flag made of a piece of muslin neatly
tacked to an old broom-handle came slowly toward them. She wore a skirt
of blue and red flannel, a black jacket, half silk and half cloth, and a
cap of three or four kinds of fur, bordered with soft swan's-down. Her
cheeks were glowing with the cold, her great brown eyes beamed with
frankness and innocence, and her hair, in two long golden braids, caught
the last ray of the setting sun.
"Boys," she said, in a clear, ringing voice, as she reached them, "I
want to speak to you."
"Great time to want to speak to fellers," growled Sandy Grip, "when
they're finishin' up the old year, and only got a few minutes to do it
in."
"You keep still, Grip," said Ashburner. "Guess you forget who prayed for
you when you had the diphtheria."
"And the Woods have got to be quiet, or get another captain," said Jack
Lubs, remembering the dear little sister who with her dying breath
begged him to always be good to "darling Lady."
"I couldn't wait till to-night to say what I have to say," said Lady,
"for my mothers need me at home, and so, as I knew I'd find you all here
fighting, I thought I'd bring a flag of truce, and you'd stop long
enough--oh, how I wish you'd stop forever!--to hear what I have to ask
of you."
"Go ahead, Lady," said the boys, with one accord.
And planting the flag-staff in the snow heap behind her, Lady Rags
folded her little red hands, and began.
But before I tell you what she said I must tell you something about
herself.
Just thirteen years before the day of the Tins' and Woods' battle, three
poor tired old women, who had been wandering about the city in search of
rags and what other things they could gather, met at the corner of the
street in which they lived.
As they plodded on together--it was fast growing dark--they stumbled
over something lying upon the sidewalk. Stooping to look at this
something, they found a woman with a baby in her arms.
"I am dying," she whispered, "of cold and starvation."
The three poor old women carried her to their own miserable home, where
she died in a short time.
"And what shall we do with the baby?" they asked each other. Then in one
voice they answered themselves,
"It is a Christmas gift to us. We'll keep it, with God's help." They
named the baby Adelaide, but that being too long a name for a tiny baby,
it was soon shortened to Lady, and so the child came to be known as
"Lady Rags."
After the coming of Lady Rags the shabby home grew brighter than any one
seeing it before could have believed possible. The windows, once
scarcely to be seen through for dust and cobwebs, were now washed often,
so that the sunshine could come in and dance on the white wall for Lady.
The floor was scrubbed almost every day, and a piece of red and green
carpet was spread in one corner for her to play on. Here she played from
morning until night with all the bright-colored rags and queer odds and
ends the old women found or had given them, as happy as many a child in
a splendid home with the costliest of toys. The three old crones gave up
quarrelling as they used to, for that would have frightened Lady, and
they learned to pray again--though they had forgotten how for long
years--to pray for Lady.
"My mothers" she called them when she began to talk, and ever after, and
they were so proud of the title that they tried their best to be worthy
of it. Their scant gray locks began to be always carefully combed and
half hidden beneath the whitest of caps; their well-worn garments were
neatly patched with patches of many colors, and bits of black, brown,
and other sober-hued ribbons were pinned at the wrinkled throats, and
all to do honor to Lady.
As the child grew she became so beautiful that, had she been a princess
instead of Lady Rags, her beauty would have been a wonder. And she was
as good and clever as she was beautiful, and because of her many
kindnesses to them, the boys of the triangle were her sworn subjects.
Many the cut fingers she had dressed, many the bruises she had bathed,
many the words of comfort and encouragement she had spoken, and many the
prayers she had offered for the sick and suffering.
"Her prayers go straight to Heaven," said Jack Lubs. "Some people's
don't."
But in one thing very near to her heart she had failed thus far. She
could not bring peace to the neighborhood. Much as the Woods and the
Tins and the Shorts loved her, the war still went on. And as we have
seen, when she appeared among them on this day before Christmas, in her
quaint costume, looking as though she had stepped from some lovely old
picture, they were in the midst of one of their hardest fights.
"Boys," said Lady Rags, "I have come to ask you all to be a surprise
party early to-morrow morning. You remember, the most of you, the poor
man who fell from the scaffolding while he was painting our house--"
"And bad enough it wanted painting," said Abe Wilson; "hadn't been
painted before, I guess, in a hundred years."
"--And was so badly hurt," Lady Rags went on, "that they took him to the
hospital. Well, he has been there ever since, and that's nearly two
months; but he's coming home to-morrow. And, oh! boys, do you know where
that home is?"
"In Mulkins's basement, 'way down in the ground, and dark as Egypt,"
said Sandy Grip.
"And yet five children without any mother live there," said Lady.
"Give 'em one of yours," suggested Sandy; "three's two too many for one
girl."
"Couldn't spare one, for all that," said Lady, smiling. "And as my
mothers and I have just found out, these children have had dreadful
times since their father went away. They have sold every bit of their
furniture, and they have been nearly starved and nearly frozen. And
Christmas is almost here--Christmas, when everybody ought to be merry;
and I can't bear to think of that poor father coming home to that
wretched place. And he must not, boys; you must not let him,
_brothers_."
"How can we help it?" asked both the captains, both the lieutenants, and
half the privates.
"By each doing something toward making that basement look a little like
merry Christmas. My mothers and I and the other girls have done all we
can. We have bought an old stove from Mr. Rust, and a new table from
Mr. Ashburner, and Mrs. Lubs has given us a bed, and Mrs. Bond some
blankets, and my Sunday-school teacher some clothes, and to-morrow
morning we hope a certain surprise party will do the rest."
"But, Lady Rags," said Jack Lubs, "my fellers haven't much cash, I know,
and what little they have left, after getting Christmas presents for
their own folks, they want to spend on you."
"Here too, Johnny," said Ashburner.
Jack glared at him. "Johnny!" he repeated.
"Well, Squint-eye, if you like it better. Shiver your timbers,
_please_."
Lubs raised his fist, but Lady sprang forward and seized his arm.
"Oh, boys! boys!" she cried, "you promised to listen." And as they
turned away from each other with shamed faces, she began again, "It's
very, very kind of you to think of buying me a Christmas present, for I
have no right to expect anything--"
"Guess you have, then," interrupted Jimmy Mullally.
"Got us out of lots of scrapes since last Christmas," said Abe Wilson.
"Mended my trousers when I tore 'em goin' down Hysen's coal-hole after
my cat, and granny never found it out," said Willie Bond.
"Best girl in America, 'land of the free and home of the brave!'" said
Jack Lubs.
"You bet!" chorused all the other boys.
"It's real good of you to think so," said Lady, "for I'm no better than
most girls, I am sure."
"There's where you make a mistake," said Rube Howell.
"Well, have your own way about that," said Lady, with a bright smile;
"but do let me have my way about the Christmas present. And, oh! boys,
the best present you could give me would be to spend all you can spare
yourselves, and beg all you can from others, for these poor Janvrins.
They haven't anything to eat, and if they had, they have no dishes nor
plates to eat from, no knives nor forks to eat with. And there's twin
babies only a year old, and they are all so pale and thin! Oh, boys,
what a blessed, blessed thing it would be to stop this wicked fight,
that has been going on so long, this very Christmas-eve, and begin
Christmas-day by doing an act of kindness together! Christmas-day should
be a day of love and kindness, for on that day the Saviour was born.
What a darling baby He must have been, lying on His mother's lap, with
the cows and horses (He was born in a stable, you know) looking at Him
with wondering eyes! And He was the best boy that ever lived. And when
He became a man He went about everywhere teaching Love, Mercy, and
Charity. How He must grieve when He looks down from heaven and sees you
fight so terribly! What pain His gentle heart must have felt when Ned
Prime, a few weeks ago, was taken home to his mother--and she a
widow--nearly blind from a blow got in one of your battles! You say you
care for me; you say I have been a help to you. Perhaps you would never
have known me if it had not been Christmas-time when my mothers found
me. They thought, as they took me in their arms--I know they did--of
that other Baby, sent to bless the world. And, oh, boys, I beg of you to
be friends. Jack Lubs and Tim Ashburner," she continued, clasping her
hands in entreaty, while the tears trembled on her long lashes, "you
began this war, and for such a silly cause--oh, do, _do_, DO end it!"
Lubs stepped toward Ashburner; Ashburner advanced to meet him. They
shook hands, and a cheer went up from the lookers-on, with the exception
of Sandy Grip, who growled, "That's the end of our fun--a lot of fellers
givin' in to a preachin' gal!" and was instantly rolled in the snow by
the boys nearest him.
"We'll meet in Ashburner's father's shop to-night," said Captain Lubs,
"and draw up a--a agreement."
"A treaty," corrected Abe Wilson.
"Yes, that's what I mean--a treaty of peace."
"To last forever?" asked Lady Bags, her face glowing with delight.
"Well, I s'pose so, between the Tins and Woods as Tins and Woods," said
Jack. "But if any one feller sasses another feller more than he can
stand, why, don't you see, Lady, we _can't_ promise peace forever
between the fellers as fellers, but we'll do the best we can. And we'll
be at Mulkins's basement to-morrow morning about nine o'clock."
And carrying the flag of truce between them, the two captains followed
Lady Rags--it was now dark, and the shop-keepers were beginning to light
their windows--their comrades following them, until they reached the
drug-store which united Wood and Tin streets, and which had two front
doors, one on either side.
Through one of these doors, and out of the other, Lady, in a spirit of
fun, led them all, much to the surprise of the druggist, who was
pounding something in a mortar. Indeed, so surprised was he that he
didn't recover presence of mind enough to ask, "What does this mean?"
until the last boy passed out on Tin Street; and so, of course, he got
no answer to his question.
* * * * *
"Merry Christmas!" rang the bells--"merry, merry Christmas!" "Merry
Christmas!" shouted the little children, as out tumbled the toys and
goodies Santa Claus had put in their stockings; "Merry Christmas!"
echoed the big ones, as they found tokens of remembrance from fathers,
mothers, grandfathers, grandmothers, uncles, aunts, cousins, sisters,
brothers, and friends; "Merry Christmas!" cried the butcher, the baker,
the grocer, and the milkman; "Merry Christmas!" called the people on the
streets to each other; and "Merry Christmas!" mingled with the jingling
of the sleigh-bells as the sleighs sped quickly by.
In Mulkins's basement the old stove was glowing in the most cheerful
manner. A long wooden table stood in the middle of the floor, and a few
Christmas wreaths were tacked on the newly whitewashed walls. The
Janvrin children were gathered around the fire--poor things, they hadn't
been as comfortable in a long while--and Lady Rags, her cheeks as red as
roses, and a heavenly light in her beautiful brown eyes, stood at one of
the windows, looking up into the street.
"Oh, what serious faces you all have!" she turned to say to the group by
the fire. "Think of your dear father coming home, and smile right away."
And the children, smiling as she spoke, started to their feet as they
heard the beating of a drum directly in front of the house, and rushed
to the windows.
"You must not look out," said Lady Rags, gently driving them into the
corner behind the stove, and placing herself beside them.
A procession of boys, each with a sprig of cedar in his hat, led by
Hodge Wood with his drum and Willie Bond bearing an American flag, filed
down the area way and into the basement.
First came Captains Lubs and Ashburner, each having hold of one end of a
large dripping-pan, in which reposed a fine roasted turkey. Behind them,
Aris Black carried a new tin saucepan filled with gravy, and his brother
Ted another filled with cranberry sauce. Then followed Sandy Grip and
Rube Howell with bunches of celery worn as shields. Next in order were
Jimmy Mullally and Abe Wilson, tugging a great basket overflowing with
potatoes, onions, and turnips. Next, two boys with a shining dish-pan
heaped high with dishes, plates, and cups and saucers. Next, four boys
nursing four huge loaves of bread as though they were babies. Next, six
tall boys with chairs on their heads, and two short ones with high
chairs for the twins on _their_ heads. Next, eight small boys with
knives, forks, and spoons, worn as weapons at their sides. Next, two
boys with school satchels almost bursting with toys. And last, Ned Prime
with a tin basin for a helmet and a broom for a gun, and Jake Smith with
a brightly painted wooden pail in one hand and a coal-hod in the other,
one full of apples and oranges and the other with coal.
"Rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub," went the drum, "Hurrah!" shouted the
boys as they marched in. The turkey, the celery, the loaves of bread,
the pail of fruit, and the knives, forks, and spoons, were placed on the
table, and the coal-hod, broom, dish-pan, and satchels of toys under it.
The chairs were set down, and the boys ranged themselves around the
room, and at a signal from Jack Lubs they all shouted at the top of
their voices, "Merry Christmas!" And then what do you think Lady Bags
did--she who had told the Janvrin children they must smile? Burst out
crying as though her heart would break!
"Good gracious! what _is_ the matter now?" asked Tim.
"Girls is never satisfied," growled Sandy Grip.
"You hush!" said Abe Wilson, with more emphasis than politeness.
"The matter?" repeated Lady. "You dear, good, splendid boys, I cried for
joy! You can't think how happy I am. But I'm going to laugh all the rest
of the day."
"That's right," said Ashburner; "and now, if your Majesty will listen,
we have something to read to you."
And in the twinkling of an eye the huge basket was on the floor, and
Lady, blushing like a sweet wild rose, seated as on a throne in its
place.
"Attention, company!" called Jack Lubs, and mounting a chair, he
unfolded a paper, and read as follows:
"'We, the Woods and Tins'--which means the Shorts too--'do promise from
this Christmas-day, 25th of December, 1878, to fight no more battles,
but bury the tomahawk, and smoke the calumet of peace together
_forever_. And three cheers for Lady Rags!'"
Just at this moment Mr. Janvrin, the crippled painter, limped in. Then,
finding everything so jolly where he had expected nothing but gloom, he
joined in with all his might. And Lady's three mothers and some girl
friends, who had been looking on from the entry, joined in too.
Once more the drum beat, the flag was unfurled, and away went the boys,
as happy a throng of boys as ever got together on Christmas-day.
This is how the war of the Woods and the Tins--including the
Shorts--came to an end.
[Illustration: CHRISTMAS MORNING.]