it."
"Benny!" cried Jess, laughing in spite of herself. But she made a tail,
long and slim, exactly as Benny ordered, and sewed it on very tightly,
so that it might be "pulled" if desired. She fastened on the legs and
arms with flat hinges, so the bear might sit down easily, and added at
last a pair of cunning flappy ears and a gay collar of braided red
string from a bundle.
"What's his name, Jessy?" inquired Benny, when the wonderful bear was
finally handed over to him.
"His name?" repeated Jess. "Well, you know he's a _new_ bear; he isn't
your old one, so I wouldn't call him Teddy."
"Oh, no," said Benny, shocked. "This is not Teddy. This has a pretty
tail."
"Of course," agreed Jess, trying not to laugh. "Well, you know we sold
that ginseng to pay for your new stockings. And if you hadn't had your
new ones, we couldn't have made this bear out of your old ones."
"You want his name to be Stockings?" asked Benny politely.
"Stockings? No," answered Jess. "I was thinking of 'Ginseng.'"
"Ginseng?" echoed Benny, thinking deeply. "That's a nice name. All
right, I think Ginseng will be a good bear, if Watchie doesn't bark at
him." And from that moment the bear's name was Ginseng as long as he
lived, and he lived to be a very old bear indeed.
TROUBLE
The days went merrily by for the freight-car family. Hardly a day
passed, however, without some exciting adventure. Mrs. McAllister,
finding out in some way that Violet was a clever seamstress, sent home
fine linen handkerchiefs for her to hem. Each one had a tiny colored
rose in the corner, and Violet was delighted with the dainty work. She
sat sewing daily by the swimming pool while Benny sailed wonderful boats
of chips, and waded around to his heart's content.
The freight-car pantry now held marvelous dishes rescued from the dump;
such rarities as a regular bread knife, a blue and gold soap dish, and
half of a real cut-glass bowl.
Henry proudly deposited thirty-one dollars in the savings bank under the
name of Henry James, and worked eagerly for his kind friend, who never
asked him any more embarrassing questions.
Benny actually learned to read fairly well. The girls occupied their
time making balsam pillows for the four beds, and trying to devise
wonderful meals out of very little material. Violet kept a different
bouquet daily in the little vase. She had a perfect genius for arranging
three purple irises to look like a picture, or a single wood lily with
its leaves like a Japanese print. Each day the children enjoyed a cooked
dinner, filling in the chinks with perfect satisfaction with bread and
butter, or bread and milk, or bread and cheese. They named their queer
house, "Home for Tramps," and printed this title in fancy lettering
inside the car.
One day Jess began to teach Benny a little arithmetic. He learned very
readily that two and one make three.
"I knew that before," he said cheerfully. But it was a different matter
when Jess proposed to him that two minus one left one.
"No, it does not left _one_," said Benny indignantly. "It left _two_."
"Why, Benny!" cried Jess in astonishment. "Supposing you had two apples
and I took away one, wouldn't you have one left?"
"You never would," objected Benny with confidence.
"No, but supposing Watch took one," suggested Jess.
[Illustration: _One day the stranger was allowed to see Violet_]
"Watchie wouldn't take one, neither," said Benny. "Would you, doggie?"
Watch opened one eye and wagged his tail. Jess looked at Violet in
despair. "What shall I do with him?" she asked.
Violet took out her chalk and printed clearly on the outside of the
freight car the following example:
2 - 1 =
"Now, Benny, don't you see," she began, "that if you have two things,
and somebody takes away one, that you _must_ have one left?"
"I'll show you myself," agreed Benny finally with resignation. "Now see
the 2?" He actually made a respectable figure 2 on the freight car.
"Now, here's a nice 1. Now, s'posen I take away the 1, don't you see the
2's left right on the car?" He covered the figure 1 with his chubby hand
and looked about at his audience expectantly.
Jess rolled over against a tree trunk and laughed till she nearly cried.
Violet laughed until she really did cry. And here we come to the first
unpleasant incident in the story of the runaway children.
Violet could not stop crying, apparently, and Jess soon made up her mind
that she was really ill. She helped her carefully into the car, and
heaped all the pine needles around and under her, making her the softest
bed she could. Then she wet cloths in the cool water of the brook and
laid them across her little sister's hot forehead.
"How glad I am that it is time for Henry to come!" she said to herself,
holding Violet's slender brown hands in her cool ones.
Henry came promptly at the usual time. He thought she had a cold, he
said. And this seemed likely, for Violet began to cough gently while the
rest ate a hasty supper.
"We don't want to let her go to a hospital if we can possibly help it,"
said Henry, more troubled than he cared to show. "If she goes there
we'll have to give her name, and then Grandfather will find us surely."
Jess agreed, and together the two older children kept changing the cool
cloths on Violet's aching head. But about ten o'clock that night Violet
had a chill. She shivered and shook, and her teeth chattered so that
Jess could plainly hear them. Apparently nothing could warm the little
girl, although she was completely packed in hay and pine needles.
"I'm going down to Dr. McAllister's," said Henry quietly. "I'm afraid
Violet is very ill."
Nobody ever knew how fast he ran down the hill. Even in his famous race,
Henry hardly touched his present speed. He was so thoroughly frightened
that he never stopped to notice how quickly the doctor seemed to
understand what was wanted. He did not even notice that he did not have
to tell the doctor which way to drive his car in order to reach the
hill. When the car reached the road at the base of the hill, Dr.
McAllister said shortly, "Stay here in the car," and disappeared up the
hill alone.
When the doctor returned he was carrying Violet in his arms. Jess and
Benny and Watch were following closely. Nobody spoke during the drive to
the McAllister house as they flew through the darkness. When they
stopped at last, the doctor said three words to his mother, who opened
the door anxiously.
The three words were, "Pneumonia, I'm afraid." They all heard it.
Irish Mary appeared from the kitchen with hot-water bottles and warm
blankets, and Mrs. McAllister flew around, opening beds and bringing
pillows. A trained nurse in a white dress appeared like magic from
nowhere in particular. They all worked as best they could to get the
sick child warmed up. Soon the hot blankets, hot water, and steaming
drinks began to take effect and the shivering stopped.
Mrs. McAllister left the sick room then, to attend to the other
children. Henry and Benny were left in a large spare room with a double
bed. Jess was put in a little dressing room just out of Mrs.
McAllister's own room. Upon receiving assurances that Violet was warm
again, they went to sleep.
But Violet was not out of danger, for she soon grew as hot as she had
been cold. And the doctor never left her side until ten o'clock the next
morning. Violet, although very ill, did not have pneumonia.
At about nine o'clock the doctor had a visitor. It was a man who said he
would wait. He did wait in the cool front parlor for over half an hour.
Then Benny drifted in.
"Where _is_ the doctor?" asked the man sharply of Benny.
"He's nupstairs," answered Benny readily.
"This means a lot of money to him, if he only knew it," said the visitor
impatiently.
"Oh, _that_ wouldn't make any difference," Benny replied with great
assurance as he started to go out again. But the man caught him.
"What do you mean by that, sonny?" he asked curiously. "What's he
doing?"
"He's taking care of my sister Violet. She's sick."
"And you mean he wouldn't leave her even if I gave him a lot of money?"
"Yes, that's it," said Benny politely. "That's what I mean."
The visitor seemed to restrain his impatience with a great effort. "You
see, I've lost a little boy somewhere," he said. "The doctor knows where
he is, I think. He would be about as old as you are."
"Well, if you don't find him, you can have me, I shouldn't wonder,"
observed Benny comfortingly. "I like you."
"You do?" said the man in surprise.
"That's because you've got such a nice, soft suit on," explained Benny,
stroking the man's knee gently. The gentleman laughed heartily.
"No, I guess it's because you have such a nice, soft laugh," said Benny
changing his mind. The fact was that Benny himself did not know why he
liked this stranger who was so gruff at times and so pleasant at others.
He finally accepted the man's invitation and climbed into his lap to see
his dog's picture in his watch, feeling of the "nice soft suit," on the
way. The doctor found him here when he came down at ten o'clock.
"Better go and find Watch, Benny," suggested the doctor.
"Perhaps some day I'll come again," observed Benny to his new friend. "I
like your dog, and I'm sorry he's dead." With that he scampered off to
find Watch, who was very much alive.
"I expected you, Mr. Cordyce," said the doctor smiling, "only not quite
so soon."
"I came the moment I heard your name hinted at," said James Cordyce. "My
chauffeur heard two workmen say that you knew where my four
grandchildren were. That's all I waited to hear. Is it true? And where
are they?"
"That was one of them," said the doctor quietly.
"That was one of them!" repeated the man. "That beautiful little boy?"
"Yes, he is beautiful," assented Dr. McAllister. "They all are. The only
trouble is, they're all frightened to death to think of your finding
them."
"How do you know that?" said Mr. Cordyce, sharply.
"They've changed their name. At least the older boy did. In public,
too."
"What did he change it to?"
Dr. McAllister watched his visitor's face closely while he pronounced
the name clearly, "Henry James."
A flood of recollections passed over the man's face, and he flushed
deeply.
"That boy!" he exclaimed. "That wonderful running boy?"
Then events began to move along rapidly.
CAUGHT
"They never will go with you in this world," declared Mrs. McAllister
finally to the distracted grandfather, "unless you give us time to break
the news gradually. And above all, when Violet is so ill."
"Couldn't I see them?" begged the man, almost like a boy. "I could
pretend I was a friend of yours, visiting you, who liked children. I
would promise not to tell them until you consented."
"That might do," said Dr. McAllister. "If they grew to like you before
they knew who you were, it would make things easier, certainly."
So James Henry Cordyce's chauffeur was sent for a gold-monogrammed
suitcase and his young man to wait upon him, and Irish Mary held up her
hands in despair when she learned for whom she must cook.
"Don't you worry, Mary Bridget Flynn," said Dr. McAllister with
emphasis. "You could cook for the King of England! Just make one of your
peach shortcakes for lunch and broil a chicken, and I'll answer for
him."
When lunch time came J. H. Cordyce saw all his grandchildren except
Violet. He smiled with delight when he saw Jess coming down the stairs
in her womanly fashion. Henry shook hands with him before he sat down,
but he kept glancing at the stranger all through the meal.
"Where have I seen that man before?" he thought.
Mrs. McAllister had given the children's names clearly when she
introduced them--Jess, Benny, and Henry. Henry James, she had added. But
she had not added the man's name.
"She forgot," thought Jess. "Because she knows him so well, she thinks
we do."
But although nameless, the stranger caught their attention. He told them
wonderful stories about a steel rail which held up an entire bridge
until the people had time to get off, about his collie dog, about a
cucumber in his garden, growing inside of a glass bottle. Henry was
interested. Benny was fascinated.
"I'd like to see the cucumber," said Benny, pausing in the middle of his
shortcake.
"Would you, indeed?" said Mr. Cordyce, delighted. "Some day, if Mrs.
McAllister is willing, you and I will ride over to my garden and pick
it."
"And we'll bring it to Violet?" asked Benny, waiting breathlessly for an
answer.
"We'll bring it to Violet," agreed Mr. Cordyce, resuming his shortcake.
After lunch he went to sleep in the easy-chair in the doctor's big
office. That is, he threw his head back and shut his eyes, and breathed
very heavily. Jess went through the room once with ice water, humming,
for Violet was better. But the moment she saw the stranger asleep, she
stopped her singing abruptly and tiptoed the rest of the way. Then as
suddenly she turned around and came back, and very carefully shoved a
cushion under the man's feet. It was so gently done that even if he had
been really asleep, he would never have wakened. As it was, he could not
resist opening one eye the slightest crack to see the bright chestnut
hair as it passed out of sight.
"No," he thought to himself, "if she really hated me, she would never
have done that."
But the children were very far from hating him. They liked him
immensely. And when at last, one day, he was allowed to see Violet, and
came softly into her room with a nosegay of fragrant English double
violets, for her, they loved him. He won all their hearts when he patted
her dark head and told her very simply that he was sorry she had been
sick.
It would be hard to say that J. H. Cordyce ever had a favorite
grandchild, but certainly his manner with Violet was very gentle. It was
clear to every one, even to the anxious nurse, that the stranger was not
tiring the sick child. He told her in a pleasant everyday voice about
his garden and his greenhouses where the violets came from--about the
old Swede gardener who always said he must "vater the wi-lets."
"I'd love to see him," said Violet earnestly.
"How long you going to stay here?" Benny piped up.
It was not altogether a polite question, but it was clear to them all
that Benny wanted him to stay, so they all laughed.
"As long as they'll let me, my boy," answered the stranger quietly. Then
he left the sick room, for he knew he should not stay long.
But something in the man's last sentence rang in Henry's ears. He
repeated it over and over in his mind, trying to remember where he had
heard that same voice say "my boy." He made an excuse to work in the
flower beds along the veranda, in order to glance occasionally at the
man's face, as he sat under a tree reading.
Often Henry thought he had caught hold of his truant memory. Then the
man turned his head and he lost it again altogether. But suddenly it
came to him, as the man smiled over his book--it was the man who had
shaken hands with him on the day of the race! And he had said, "I like
your spirit, my boy." That was it.
Henry sat down out of sight and weeded geraniums for a few moments. It
is a wonder he did not pull up geraniums instead of weeds, his mind was
so far away.
"I didn't remember him at first, because I was so jolly excited when he
shook hands with me," decided Henry. Then he was apparently
thunderstruck afresh. He sat with his weeder on his knee and his mouth
open. "He's the man who passed me the cup with the wings!" He stole
another look around the corner, and this satisfied him. "Same man
exactly," he said.
When he had finished the flower bed he thought he heard the young doctor
moving in the office. He stuck his head in the open door. The doctor sat
at his desk, taking notes from a book.
"Do you know who presented the prizes Field Day?" asked Henry curiously.
"Know what his name was?"
"James Cordyce, of the Steel Mills," replied the doctor carelessly. "J.
H. Cordyce--over in Greenfield."
Dr. McAllister, to all appearances, returned to his notes. His eyes were
lowered, at any rate. But for Henry the skies were reeling. He withdrew
his head and sat still on the step. That delightful man his
_grandfather_? It was impossible. He was too young, to begin with. Henry
expected a white-haired gentleman with a cane and a terrible voice. But
all the time, he knew in his soul that it was not only possible, but
really true. He recalled the man's reply to Benny's direct question--he
had said he was going to stay as long as they would let him. Could it be
that the man knew them without introducing himself? A perfect torrent of
thoughts assailed Henry as he sat crouched on the office steps. It was
clear to him now that Mrs. McAllister had failed to mention his name on
purpose. It was a wonder Benny hadn't asked what it was, long before
this. He noticed that the man was getting out of his chair under the
trees.
"It's now or never," thought Henry. "I've got to know!"
He walked eagerly after the man who was going toward the garden with his
back turned. Henry easily caught up with him, breathing with difficulty.
The man turned around.
"Are you James Henry Cordyce of Greenfield?" panted Henry.
"I am, my boy," returned the man with a long look. "Does that question
of yours mean that _you_ know that _I_ know that you are Henry James
Cordyce?"
"Yes," said Henry, simply.
The man's eyes filled with tears, and J. H. Cordyce of the Steel Mills
shook hands for the third time with his grandson, H. J. Cordyce of the
Home for Tramps.
A NEW GRANDFATHER
In less than an hour the town was buzzing with the news. The chauffeur
told the maids and the maids told the grocery man, and the grocery man
went from house to house telling that old James Cordyce had found his
four grandchildren at last. In fact the biggest part of the town knew it
before the children themselves.
Jess and Benny came across the lawn to select some white moonflowers for
Violet's tray. They were just in time to hear Henry say, "But,
Grandfather--"
"Grandfather!" echoed Jess, whirling around to gaze at them.
"Yes, Jess," said Henry eagerly. "He's the man we've been running away
from all this time."
"I thought you was old," observed Benny. "And awf'ly cross. Jess said
so."
"I didn't know, Benny," said Jess turning pink. To think of running away
from this kind friend!
But her grandfather did not seem to mind. He stroked her short silky
hair and proposed that they all go up into Violet's room with the
moonflowers. There was no stopping Benny. He rushed into Violet's room,
dragging his grandfather by one hand, and shouting, "It's Grandfather,
Violet, and he's nice, after all, I shouldn't wonder!"
When Violet at last understood just what Benny was trying to tell, she
was perfectly happy to rest against her ruffled pillows with one hand
curled about her grandfather's arm, and listen to the rest.
"_Where_ have you been living?" demanded Mr. Cordyce at last.
The whole company looked at each other, even Dr. McAllister and his
mother. Then they all laughed as if they never would stop.
"You just ought to see!" observed Dr. McAllister, wiping his eyes.
"What?" said the children all at once. "_You_ never saw it in the
daytime!"
"You don't mean it!" returned the doctor, teasing them. "I have seen it
quite a number of times in the daytime."
"Seen what, in heaven's name?" asked Mr. Cordyce at last.
Then they told him, interrupting each other to tell about the beds of
pine needles, the wonderful dishes, the freight-car roof over all, the
fireplace, and the swimming pool.
"That's where Violet got her bronchitis," observed the doctor, "sitting
by that pool. She shouldn't have done it. I thought so from the first."
"_You_ thought so?" repeated Henry, puzzled. "How did you know she sat
by it? I'm sure I didn't myself."
"I was your most frequent visitor," declared the doctor, enjoying
himself hugely.
"I hope you were our _only_ one," said Jess with her mouth open.
"Well, I think I was," said the doctor. "The first night after Henry
mowed my lawn I followed him as far as the hill to see where he lived."
"Why did you do that?" interrupted Mr. Cordyce.
"I liked his looks," returned the doctor. "And I noticed that he didn't
tell much about himself, so I was curious."
"But you surely didn't see the freight car then," said Jess.
"No, but I came back that night and hunted around," replied Dr.
McAllister.
"At about eleven o'clock!" Henry cried. The doctor assented.
"Our rabbit!" said Henry and Jess together.
"I made as little noise as possible when I saw the freight car. Then I
saw the door move, so I thought some one was inside. And when I heard
the dog bark I was sure of it, and went home."
"But you came back?" questioned Jess.
"Yes, every time I knew all of you were safe in my garden, I made you a
little visit, just to be sure you were having enough to eat, and enough
dishes." The doctor laughed. "When I found you had a strainer, and a
vase of flowers, and a salt-shaker, and a cut-glass punch bowl, I
stopped worrying."
"Didn't you suspect they were my children?" demanded Mr. Cordyce.
"Didn't you see my advertisement? Why didn't you notify me at once?"
"They were having such a good time," confessed the doctor. "And _I_ was,
too. I just wanted to see how long they could manage their own affairs.
It was all tremendously interesting. Why, that boy and girl of yours
are born business managers, Mr. Cordyce!"
Mr. Cordyce took note of this.
"But I don't see, yet, how you knew Violet sat by the pool," said Jess
curiously.
"You couldn't know that, of course," replied the doctor. "I went up
twice when I knew Henry had taken the dog down to my barn to catch rats.
I hid behind the big white rock with the flat top."
"That's Lookout Rock," explained Jess, "where we used to let Benny watch
for Henry. But we didn't hear you."
"No," said Dr. McAllister. "I didn't even snap a twig those times. But I
had the very best time when I went with Mother."
"Have you seen it, too?" cried the children.
"I have, indeed!" returned Mrs. McAllister. "I have even had a drink
from your well."
"Every one has seen it but me," said Mr. Cordyce patiently.
"We'll show it to you!" screamed Benny. "And I'll show you my wheels
made on a cart, and my bed out of hay, and my pink cup!"
"Good for you, Benny," said Mr. Cordyce, pleased. "When Violet gets
well, we'll all go up there, and if you'll show me your house, I'll
show you mine."
"Have you got a house?" asked Benny in surprise.
"Yes. You can live there with me, if you like it," replied Mr. Cordyce.
"I have been looking for you for nearly two months."
Under Mrs. McAllister's wonderful care, Violet soon became strong again.
But she had been skipping around the garden for several days before the
doctor would allow the visit to the freight-car house. When at last the
whole party started out in the great limousine, many people looked out
of their windows to watch after Mr. Cordyce and his grandchildren. Many
of them knew Henry as the boy who won the race, and were glad that he
had found such a friend.
But when the children reached their beloved home they were like wild
things. Watch capered about furiously, taking little swims in the pool
and sniffing at all the dear old familiar things. Mr. Cordyce seated
himself on a rock and watched them all, exchanging a glance now and then
with Mrs. McAllister and her son.
"See our 'building,'" shouted Benny, for that was what he always called
the fireplace. "It burns _really_, too. And this is the well, and this
is the dishpan, and this is the 'frigerator'!"
At last every one climbed into the car itself, and Mr. Cordyce saw the
beds, the cash account on the wall, the wonderful shelf, and each
separate dish. Each dish had a story of its own.
"That's more than my dishes have," observed Mr. Cordyce.
Mrs. McAllister, who knew what his dishes were, was silent.
They ate chicken sandwiches on the very same tablecloth, and Benny drank
from his pink cup, and Watch couldn't understand why they went away at
all.
But it was a trifle cool on the hill now when the sun began to sink, and
after rolling the door shut, they left regretfully.
"Tomorrow," suggested Mr. Cordyce, as they drove home, "will you all
come and see my house?"
"Oh, yes," agreed the children happily, little dreaming what was in
store for them on the next day and all the days to come.
A UNITED FAMILY