DAN DECLARES THAT IT IS LIKE A ROMANCE.
The old gentleman with the hour-glass who never sleeps does not look a
day older, and yet four seasons have played their parts and have
passed away. The white hairs in George Marvel's head are multiplying
fast, and he grumbles at them as usual, but has given up the task of
pulling them out. Great changes have taken place among Joshua's
friends; and Dan, looking up from his work, remarks sometimes that it
is almost like a romance. Judge if it is.
When Mr. Taylor was buried--when the shame of his death was forgotten
and only sorrow for it remained--the children found themselves in one
of those social difficulties from which many wiser persons than they
are unable to extricate themselves. For the first three or four weeks
after their father's death, Mrs. Marvel and Susan had between them
managed to defray the small expenses of the house; but the tax was
heavy--too heavy for them to continue to bear. One day, however,
unexpected help came. George Marvel, in his quiet way, had conceived a
great idea, and in his quiet way had carried it out. Here were these
two children thrown upon the world. Not children exactly perhaps, for
they were nearly seventeen years of age; but one was a cripple, and
the other was a girl. They had been good children, and their character
stood high in the neighborhood. Who ought to assist them? The
neighbors. Some one must take it in hand, and why not he as well as
any other person? No sooner had he made up his mind than he set to
work. He went round to the neighbors personally, and told them what
his errand was. Poor as they were, they gave their mites cheerfully,
with scarcely an exception. When he had made the round of the
neighbors, he went to the workshops, and the men there gave their
penny each, and the boys their halfpence; and so swelled the total.
His own employers and fellow-workmen were more liberal than any. He
did not forget his tradesmen, his butcher and baker and grocer. They
all gave; and the result was that, at the end of the three weeks
during which he had been employed in his self-imposed task, he had a
sum of not less than twelve pounds four shillings in his possession,
to hand over to Dan and Ellen to assist them through their trouble.
The night he made up his accounts, he told his wife what he had done,
and she blessed him for it, and was silently and devoutly grateful
that Providence had given her a husband with such a heart.
The following evening George Marvel visited the children, with his bag
of money in his coat-tail pocket. Ellen was at work, and although she
looked pale in her black dress, she looked very pretty. The goodness
of the heart always shows itself in the face.
Now Dan had been thinking all day, and indeed for many previous days,
that he ought to consult some mature person as to what he was to do.
You must understand that Dan, notwithstanding that he was so much
younger than Susan, considered himself the head of the family. He had
his plans, but he wanted advice concerning them. Up to the present
time, his business in trained birds had not flourished. It could not
be said to have commenced, for he had not sold a bird. He had decided
Mr. Marvel would be a proper person to ask advice of, and by good luck
here Mr. Marvel was.
"Have you a few minutes to spare, sir?"
"Yes, surely, Dan," replied Mr. Marvel.
"I want to take your advice, sir," commenced Dan after a slight
hesitation. "You know how we are situated, and how suddenly our
misfortunes have come upon us. Well, sir, we must live; we must have
bread-and-butter. Now the only scapegrace out of the lot of us is
me--don't interrupt me, Ellen, nor you, sir, please. Susan is earning
her bread-and-butter and something more. Ellen is earning enough to
keep her; and I am the only idle one of all of us, and I am the only
one who is eating bread-and-butter and is not earning it."
"But, Dan," interposed George Marvel.
"No, sir, please; let me go on. I have been eating the bread of
idleness all my life, and I am eating it now. It isn't right that I
should do so. I ought to earn my own living. But how? I am not like
other boys, and cannot do what other boys can do. One thing is
certain: I can't let Ellen work for me, and it would break my heart to
part from her; and she would feel it quite as much as I should.--Yes,
Ellen, keep your arm round my neck, but don't speak.--I tried to earn
money, you know that. I trained some birds, and put them in the
window, thinking that some one would buy them. But no one has. I
haven't earned a penny-piece, and every bit of bread I put into my
mouth has been paid for by Susan and Ellen."
Notwithstanding his eagerness, his tears choked him here, and he was
compelled to pause before he resumed. In the mean time, obedient to
his wish, neither Ellen nor Mr. Marvel spoke.
"Now, sir, this is my idea. I have got now twenty-two birds; they can
do all sorts of tricks: they can whistle tunes; they can climb up
ladders; some of them can march like soldiers and can let off guns;
some of them can draw carts. Would it be considered begging, if I, a
lame boy, who have no other way of getting bread-and-butter, made an
exhibition of these birds, and got some one to wheel me about the
streets, and stop now and then so that I might put the birds through
their tricks? I shouldn't be ashamed to accept what kind persons might
give me, or might drop into a little box which I would take care to
have handy. I wouldn't do it in this neighborhood. I would go a long
way off--three or four miles perhaps--into the rich parts of London,
where people could better afford to give. But would it be considered
begging? That is what I want to ask your advice upon, sir."
George Marvel's breath was completely taken away. The enthusiastic
manner in which Dan had spoken, no less than his admiration of the
proposed scheme, had caused him to forget his errand for the time.
"Wait a minute," he said somewhat excitedly, "I must think; I must
walk about a bit." But no sooner had he risen than the weight of the
money in his coat-tail pocket brought him to his sober senses, and he
sat down again.
"Dan," he said, taking the lad's hand affectionately in his, "you are
a good boy, and I am glad that you are Joshua's friend. I will answer
your question and give you my advice, as you ask it. In any other case
than yours I think it would be begging; but I don't think it _would_
be in yours."
"Thank you, sir," said Dan gratefully.
"Mind, I think even in your case it would not be exactly what I should
approve of, if you had any other way of getting a living."
"You think as I do, sir; but I have tried, as you see, and I have not
succeeded."
"Try a little longer, Dan."
"How about next week's rent, sir?"
"You can pay it," replied George Marvel, "and many more weeks'
besides. I have a present for you in my pocket;" and he pulled out the
bag of money and put it on the table. "In this bag is twelve pounds
four shillings, which your friends--yours and your sisters'--have
clubbed together for you, and that is what brought me here to-night."
"O sir!" cried Dan, covering his face with his hands.
"This money has been got together because all of us round about here
love you. I sha'n't give it to you all at once. You shall have it so
much every week; and I should advise you--as you ask for my advice--to
continue training birds for sale and putting them in your window. Try
a little while longer. A customer may come at any minute. And one
customer is sure to bring another."
"How can I thank you and all the good people, sir?" said Dan, with a
full heart.
"Never mind that now," said George Marvel.
If he had known that it would have been so difficult and painful a
task, it is not unlikely he would have remitted it to his wife to
accomplish. Pretending to be in a great hurry, he rose to go, and,
pressing Dan's hand and kissing Ellen, went home to his wife and told
her of Dan's wonderful idea.
Ellen and Dan were very happy the next morning, and set about their
work cheerfully and hopefully. Dan wrote a new announcement concerning
the birds, and the windows were cleaned, and presented a regular
holiday appearance. In the midst of his work, Dan, looking up, saw a
face at the window that he recognized. It was that of a young man who
had been in the habit of looking in at the window nearly every day for
the last week, and of whom Dan had observed more than once, that he
looked like a customer.
"There he is again, Ellen," said Dan; "the same man. Why doesn't he
come in and ask the price of them?"
He had no sooner spoken the words than the man's face disappeared from
the window, and a knock came at the street-door.
"Run and open the door, Ellen. I shouldn't wonder if he has made up
his mind at last." Dan's heart beat loud with excitement. "How much
shall I ask for them?" he thought. "Oh, if he buys a couple of them,
how happy I shall be!"
The parlor-door opened, and the man entered; decidedly good-looking,
dark, with a fresh color in his face, and with black hair curling
naturally. The first impression was favorable, and Dan nodded
approvingly to himself. The man had curiously flat feet, which, when
he walked, seemed to do all the work without any assistance from
his legs; and although his eyes were keen and bright, they did not
look long at one object, but shifted restlessly, as if seeking a
hiding-place where they could retire from public gaze.
"I have been attracted by the birds in the window," he said, coming at
once to to the point, much to Dan's satisfaction. "Can they really
perform what the paper says? Can they really sing 'God save the King,'
and draw up their own food and water?"
"They can do all that sir; but you shall see for yourself.--Ellen!
Where is Ellen?" Dan called; for he wanted her to assist him, and she
had not followed the stranger into the room.
"Ah, Ellen," said the stranger, dwelling on the name. "Is that the
young lady who opened the door for me?"
"Yes, sir.--Ellen!" Dan called again.
"Allow me," said the stranger; and he went to the door, and called in
tones which slipped from his throat as if it was oiled, "Ellen!
Ellen!" Then he turned to Dan, and questioned: "Your sister?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah," said the man greasily, "she is extremely like you. Allow me. I
will bring the cage to the table."
He brought the cage from the window, and placed it before Dan. At that
moment Ellen entered the room. The man's eyes wandered all over her as
she took her seat at the table. She did not return his gaze, but bent
her head modestly to her work.
"Your sister's name is Ellen," he said, "and yours?"
"Daniel," said Dan; "Daniel Taylor."
"Daniel; a scriptural name. Mine is also a Scriptural name: Solomon,
Solomon Fewster. Solomon was a wise man; I hope I take after him."
"I hope so, I am sure, sir," said Dan somewhat impatiently; for he was
anxious to get to business. "Now, sir, if you will please to look and
listen."
He blew through the tin whistle; and the bullfinches piped "God save
the King."
"Very pretty, very pretty," said Solomon Fewster, nodding his head to
the music. "And you taught them yourself?"
"Yes, sir. But it isn't as if they will only sing for me; they will
sing for you, or for Ellen, or for any one who blows the whistle."
"And they will sing for Ellen if she breathes into the whistle?" said
Solomon Fewster. "Will Ellen breathe into the whistle with her pretty
red lips? Allow me."
He took the whistle from Dan and handed it to Ellen; and she
reluctantly gave the signal to the birds, who willingly obeyed it.
Fewster took the whistle from her and blew; and the birds for the
third time piped the air. Then Dan directed his attention to the
wooden whistle, and to the wonders performed by the birds at its
dictation. Nothing would please Mr. Fewster but that Ellen should
place the wooden whistle between her "pretty red lips," as he called
them again, and "breathe into it." He said that "breathe" was more
appropriate to Ellen's pretty lips than "blow." He, using the whistle
after her, cast upon her such admiring looks, that he really made her
uncomfortable. The performance being over, Dan gazed at Mr. Fewster
with undisguised anxiety. He had intended to be very cunning, and to
appear as if he did not care whether he sold the birds or not; but the
effort was unsuccessful.
"Well, well," said Mr. Fewster; "and they are really for sale? Poor
little things! I asked the price of bullfinches yesterday at a
bird-fancier's, and the man offered to sell them for four pence each.
Not that these are not worth a little more. There is the trouble of
training them; of course that is worth a trifle. Still bullfinches are
bullfinches all the world over; and bullfinches, I believe, are very
plentiful just now--quite a glut of them in the market." He paused, to
allow this information to settle in Dan's mind, before he asked, "Now
what do you want a pair for these?"
"What do you think they are worth, sir?" asked Dan, much depressed by
Mr. Fewster's mode of bargaining.
"No, no, Daniel Taylor," said Mr. Fewster, in a bantering tone, "I am
too old a bird for that; not to be caught. Remember my namesake. You
couldn't have caught him, you know; even the Queen of Sheba couldn't
catch _him_. I can't be buyer and seller too. Put your price upon the
birds; and I will tell you if they suit me."
"You see, sir," said Dan frankly, "you puzzle me. The training of
these birds has taken me a long time. You would be surprised if you
knew how patient I have to be with them. And you puzzle me when you
make so light a thing of my teaching, and when you tell me that
bullfinches are a glut in the market. If the bullfinches you can get
in the market will suit you, sir, why do you not buy them?"
"Well put, Daniel, well put," said Mr. Fewster good-humoredly. "Still,
you _must_ fix a price on them, you know. How much shall we say?"
"Fifteen shillings the pair," said Dan boldly.
Mr. Fewster gave a long whistle, and threw himself into an attitude of
surprise. Dan shifted in his seat uneasily.
"A long price," said Mr. Fewster, when he had recovered himself; "a
very long price."
"I couldn't take less, sir," said Dan.
"Not ten shillings? Couldn't you take ten shillings?" suggested Mr.
Fewster, throwing his head on one side insinuatingly.
There was something almost imploring in the expression on Dan's face
as he said,--
"No, sir, I don't think I could. You haven't any idea what a time they
have taken me to train. I hoped to get more for them."
"I tell you what," said Mr. Fewster, with sudden animation. "Ellen
shall decide with her pretty red lips. What do you say, Ellen? Shall I
give fifteen shillings for them?"
"They are worth it, I am sure, sir," said Ellen timidly.
"That settles it," said Mr. Fewster gallantly. "Here is the money."
And laying the money on the table, Mr. Fewster took the cage, and
shaking hands with Dan, and pressing Ellen's fingers tenderly, bade
them good-morning.
Dan's delight may be imagined. It was intensified a few day's
afterwards, when Mr. Fewster called again, and bought another pair of
birds; Mr. Fewster at the same time informed Dan that it was likely he
might become a constant customer; and so he proved to be.
In the course of a short time, Dan found himself in receipt of a
regular income. Other customers came, but Dan could not supply them
all, as Mr. Fewster bought the birds almost as soon as they were
trained. Very soon Dan thought himself justified in making a proposal
to Susan. The proposal was that they should all live together in the
house where Dan carried on his business. The only obstacle to the
carrying out of the arrangement was Susan's determination not to leave
Basil and Minnie Kindred. But why should not Basil Kindred and his
daughter come as well? asked Dan; there was plenty of room for them,
and it would be such company. And after the lapse of a little time,
the result that Dan wished for was accomplished, and Basil and Minnie
and Susan were living with them. They were a very happy family. The
parlor-window had been altered to allow more space for the bird-cages;
and Dan, looking around sometimes upon the group of happy faces, would
remark that it was almost like a romance.
And so indeed it was, notwithstanding that the scene was laid in the
humblest of humble localities.