his most trusted foreman to his own beautiful home, to superintend
matters there. The house was being remodeled entirely, after Mr.
Cordyce's own plans, and everywhere were carpenters, painters and
decorators.
On the very day that Mr. Cordyce received word that it was finished, he
suggested the drive.
"Do you live all alone, Grandfather?" asked Benny.
"All alone," answered Mr. Cordyce. "No company at all." At first Benny
did not consider this the exact truth. He considered a cook company, and
also a butler, and a housekeeper. And when he saw the array of maids he
kept perfectly quiet. The house was enormous, certainly. It was at least
a quarter of a mile from its own front gate--and everywhere were
gardens.
"Do you live _here_?" said Henry, thunderstruck, as they rolled quietly
along the beautiful drive.
"You do, too, if you like it," observed his grandfather, watching his
face.
The inside of the house was more wonderful than even the older children
had ever dreamed. The velvet rugs were so thick and soft that no
footfall could be heard. Everywhere were flowers. The great stairway
with steps of marble rose from the center of the big hallway. But it was
upstairs that the children felt most at home.
Here the rooms were not quite so large. They were sunny and homelike.
"This is Violet's room!" cried Benny. It was unmistakable. There were
violets on the wallpaper. The bed was snow white with a thick quilt of
violet silk. On the little table were English violets, pouring their
fragrance into the room.
"What a beautiful room!" sighed Violet, sinking down into one of the
soft cushioned chairs.
But all the children shouted when they saw Benny's room. The wallpaper
was blue, covered with large figures of cats and dogs, the Three Bears,
and Peter Rabbit. There was a swinging rocking-horse, nearly as large as
a real horse, a blackboard, a tool chest, and low tables and chairs
exactly the right size for Benny. There was an electric train with cars
nearly as large as the little boy himself.
"Can I run the cars all day?" asked Benny.
"Oh, no," replied Henry quickly. "You're going to school as soon as it
begins."
This was the first that his grandfather had heard about school, but he
agreed with Henry, and chuckled to himself.
"The finest schools in the country," he said. This came true, for all
the children finally went to the public schools, and are they not the
finest schools in the country?
In Jess' room Benny discovered a bed for Watch. It was, in fact, a
regular dog's straw hamper, but it was lined with heavy quilted silk and
padded with wool. Watch got in at once, sniffed in every corner, turned
around three times, and lay down.
Just then a distant doorbell rang. It had such a low, musical chime that
the children listened delightedly, never once giving a thought as to who
it might be.
But almost at once a soft-footed servant appeared, saying that a man
wanted to see Mr. Cordyce "about the dog." The moment Jess heard that
word "dog" she was frightened. She had never thought Watch a common
runaway dog, and it always made her uncomfortable to see passers-by gaze
curiously at him as he ran by her side.
"They won't take Watch away?" she whispered to Henry, her breath almost
gone.
"Indeed they will not!" declared Henry. "We'll never, _never_ give him
up."
However, Henry followed his grandfather and Jess with great anxiety.
It was indeed about Watch that the man wanted to talk, and Jess' heart
sank again when she saw the dog jump delightedly upon the man, and
return his caresses with short barks.
"He's a runaway, sir, from my kennels out in Townsend," the man
explained to Mr. Cordyce. "I have two hundred Airedales out there, and
this one was sold the day before he ran away. So you see I have to turn
him over to the lady I sold him to."
"Oh, no, you don't," returned Mr. Cordyce quickly. "I will give you
three times what the dog is worth."
The man glanced around uneasily. "I couldn't do that, sir," he
explained. "You see, it isn't a question of money; it's a question of my
promised word to the lady."
Mr. Cordyce failed to "see." "She can find another dog, among two
hundred Airedales, I guess," he returned. "And, besides, you don't know
positively that this is the right dog."
"Excuse me," replied the man, very much embarrassed, "he's the dog, all
right. He knows me, as you see. His name is Rough No. 3. He has a black
spot inside his ear."
It was too true. Indeed, at the mere mention of his name the dog cocked
an ear and wagged his tail. But he had seated himself as close to Jess
as possible, and licked her hand when she patted him.
But it appeared that Henry could understand the man's position even if
Mr. Cordyce could not. He now put in a timid word of his own.
"If the lady would agree to let the dog go, would you be willing?"
"Sure," said the man, shooting a glance at Henry.
"I almost know any one would let us keep Watch, Grandfather," said
Henry earnestly, "if they knew how much he had done for us."
"I'm sure of it, my boy," returned Mr. Cordyce kindly.
The fact that Henry had been the first to make headway with the dog
fancier, had not escaped him.
But it was clear that Jess would not be able to sleep until the matter
had been settled, so the moment the man had gone, the children set out
from their beautiful new home to the address of the lady who had bought
Watch.
The big car purred along from Greenfield to Townsend in no time. And the
whole family, including Watch himself, trooped up the veranda steps to
interview the lady who held it in her power to break their hearts, or to
make them very happy.
She was not terrible to look at. In fact she was quite young, quite
lively, and very, very pretty. She asked them all to sit down, which
they did gravely, for even Benny was worried about losing "Watchie," his
favorite pillow. He could not wait for his grandfather to begin. He
struggled down from his chair and dashed over to the young lady saying,
in one breath, "You'll let us keep Watchie, please, won't you, because
we want him so bad, and Jess didn't know he was your dog?"
By degrees the lady understood just what dog it was.
"We have had him so long," explained Henry, eagerly, "it would be almost
like letting Benny go away. Watch never leaves us even for a minute,
ever since Jess took the briar out of his foot."
"So you are the children who lived in the freight car!" observed the
lively young lady. "I've heard all about that. How did you like it?"
"All right," replied Henry, with an effort. "But we never could have
done it without Watch. He stayed and looked after the girls while I was
away, and he just thinks everything of Jess."
"Well," said the young lady, laughing, "I can see you're worrying
terribly about that dog. Now listen! I wouldn't take that dog away from
you any more than I'd take Benny! In fact, not so much. I think maybe
I'd like to keep Benny instead."
Benny was apparently quite willing that she should. He climbed into her
lap before any one could stop him, and gave her one of his best bear
hugs. And from that moment they were firm friends. But the children
always spoke of her as the "lady who owns Watch," although Mr. Cordyce
paid for the dog in less time than you can imagine. It made no
difference to the children that Watch was a very valuable dog. They had
loved him when he had not been worth a cent; and now they loved him
more, simply because they had so nearly lost him.
It was a happy and reunited family which gathered around the Cordyce
dining table that evening. The maids smiled in the kitchen to hear the
children laugh; and the children laughed because Watch actually sat up
at the table in the seat of honor beside Jess, and was waited upon by a
butler.
SAFE
Would you ever dream that four children could be homesick in such a
beautiful house as Mr. Cordyce's? Jess was the first one to long for the
old freight car.
"O Grandfather," she said one morning, "I wish I could cook something
once more in the old kettle."
"Go out in the kitchen," said her grandfather, "and mess around all you
like. The maids will help you."
Jess brightened up at once, and flew out into the kitchen, where three
or four maids brought her everything she wanted to cook with.
And Benny was the last one to wish for his old home.
"Grandfather," he said one day, "I wish I could drink this milk out of
my own pink cup!"
This set Mr. Cordyce to thinking. He had plenty of pink cups, it is
true, but none of them were as dear to Benny as his own.
"I think I shall have to surprise you children," said Mr. Cordyce at
last. "But before the surprise comes, perhaps you would like to see
Benny's pony." Then he led the way to the stables. He owned several
beautiful horses already, and nearly a dozen wonderful cars. But nothing
was half so interesting as the pony. He was very small and very fat and
black. His wavy tail was so long that it nearly touched the ground. And
his name was "Cracker," because his birthday fell on the Fourth of July,
when firecrackers were popping.
Benny took a short ride around the stable, being "held on" by a groom.
But the second time around, he said, "Cracker doesn't need you to hold
onto him, I shouldn't wonder," and trotted around with great delight,
without help.
All the others sat down on the fragrant hay to watch him ride.
"What am I going to do when I grow up, Grandfather?" asked Henry.
"You're going to take my place, Henry, as president of the steel mills,"
replied Mr. Cordyce. "You will do it better than I ever have." (And one
day this came true, just as most of Mr. Cordyce's prophecies did.)
"And what am I going to do?" asked Jess, curiously.
"All you children must go to school and then to college. Then you may do
whatever you choose for a living," replied Mr. Cordyce. (This also came
true.)
"Of course I have more than enough money to support us all," went on Mr.
Cordyce, "but if you have something to do, you will be happier." (This
not only came true, but it is always and forever true, all over the
world.)
"Am I going to college tomorrow?" asked Benny, stopping his little pony
in front of the group.
"Not tomorrow, Benny," said his grandfather, laughing. "But I 'm glad
you reminded me. All you children must go over to Dr. McAllister's
tomorrow, and stay while the surprise comes."
"Is the surprise very nice?" asked Benny.
"No, not very," replied Mr. Cordyce with a twinkle.
"Did it cost a great deal?" asked Jess.
"It didn't cost me anything," answered her grandfather. "The only thing
I shall have to pay will be express." (He didn't tell them that the
express cost him several hundred dollars.)
However, next day the children rode gladly over to see the kind doctor.
They stayed until Mr. Cordyce telephoned to them that the surprise was
ready. And then Mrs. McAllister and her son rode back with them in the
big car.
Mr. Cordyce was as happy as a boy. He led the merry little procession
out through his many gardens, past the rose garden, through the banks of
purple asters. Then they came to an Italian garden with a fountain in
the middle, and a shady little wood around the edge. Among the trees was
the surprise. It was the old freight car! The children rushed over to it
with cries of delight, pushed back the dear old door, and scrambled in.
Everything was in place. Here was Benny's pink cup, and here was his
bed. Here was the old knife which had cut butter and bread, and
vegetables, and firewood, and string, and here were the letters for
Benny's primer. Here was the big kettle and the tablecloth. And hanging
on a near-by tree was the old dinner bell. Benny rang the bell over and
over again, and Watch rolled on the floor and barked himself hoarse.
The children were never homesick after that. To be sure, a dull and ugly
freight car looked a little strange in a beautiful Italian garden. But
it was never dull or ugly to the Cordyce children or their dog. They
never were so happy as when showing visitors each beauty of their
beloved old home. And there were many visitors. Some of them were
fascinated by the stories of the wonderful dishes and the shelf. And the
children never grew tired of telling them over and over again.
One summer day, many years afterward, Watch climbed out of his beautiful
padded silk bed, and barked until Henry lifted him into the freight car.
There he lay down on the hard, splintery floor, blinking his eyes in the
sun, and watching the children as they sat studying by the fountain.
"He likes the old home best," said Jess Cordyce, smiling at him and
patting his rough back.
And as Benny would say, if he hadn't grown up, "That's true, I shouldn't
wonder."
End of Project Gutenberg's The Box-Car Children, by Gertrude Chandler Warner