I reached the house just in time to save its front grounds from the
invasion of the rabble. The wind had not turned back again. The brother-in
law's widow was offering prayers of thanksgiving. The cisterns were empty
and the garden stood glistening in the afternoon sun like a May queen
drenched in tears; but the lovely spot was saved.
I left its custodian at an upper window, looking out upon the fire, and
started once more to find my friends. Half-way round to the Sisters'
cottage I met them. With many others I stepped aside to make a clear way
for the procession they headed. The sweet, clean wife bore in her arms an
infant; the tattered, sooty, bloody-headed husband bore two; and after
them, by pairs and hand in hand, with one gray sister in the rear, came a
score or more of pink-frocked, motherless little girls. An amused rabble
of children and lads hovered about the diminutive column, with leers and
jests and happy antics, and the wife smiled foolishly and burned red with
her embarrassment; but in the taxidermist's face shone an exaltation of
soul greater than any I had ever seen. I felt too petty for such a moment
and hoped he would go by without seeing me; but he smiled an altogether
new smile and said,
"My fran', God A'mighty, he know a good bargain well as anybody!"
I ran ahead with no more shame of the crowd than Zaccheus of old. I threw
open the gate, bounded up the steps and spread wide the door. In the hall,
the widow, knowing naught of this, met me with wet eyes crying,
"Ah! ah! de 'ouse of de orphelin' is juz blaze' up h-all over h-at once!"
and hushed in amazement as the procession entered the gate.
P.T.B. Manouvrier, Taxidermist!
When the fire was out the owner of that sign went back to his shop and to
his work, and his wife sat by him sewing as before. But the orphans stayed
in their new and better home. Two or three years ago the Sisters--the
brother-in-law's widow is one of them--built a large addition behind; but
the house itself stands in the beauty in which it stood on that day of
destruction, and my friend always leaves his work on balmy afternoons in
time to go with his wife and see that pink procession, four times as long
now as it was that day, march out the gate and down the street for its
daily walk.
"Ah! Pastropbon, we got ba-bee' enough presently, en't it?"
"Ole woman, nobody else ever strock dat lott'ree for such a prize like
dat."
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