NEW FRIENDS.
Mr. Converse had evidently thought that the only way for Peter to get
on was to make friends. But in this first year Peter did not made a
single one that could be really called such. His second summer
broadened his acquaintance materially, though in a direction which
promised him little law practice.
When the warm weather again closed the courts and galleries, and
brought an end to the concerts and theatres, Peter found time harder to
kill, the more, because he had pretty well explored the city. Still he
walked much to help pass the time, and to get outside of his rooms into
the air. For the same reason he often carried his book, after the heat
of the day was over, to one of the parks, and did his reading there.
Not far from his office, eastwardly, where two streets met at an angle,
was a small open space too limited to be called a square, even if its
shape had not been a triangle. Here, under the shade of two very sickly
trees, surrounded by tall warehouses, were a couple of benches. Peter
sat here many evenings smoking his pipe. Though these few square feet
made perhaps the largest “open” within half a mile of his office, the
angle was confined and dreary. Hence it is obvious there must have been
some attraction to Peter, since he was such a walker, to make him
prefer spending his time there rather than in the parks not far distant
The attraction was the children.
Only a few hundred feet away was one of the most densely crowded
tenement districts of New York. It had no right to be there, for the
land was wanted for business purposes, but the hollow on which it was
built had been a swamp in the old days, and the soft land, and perhaps
the unhealthiness, had prevented the erection of great warehouses and
stores, which almost surrounded it. So it had been left to the storage
of human souls instead of merchandise, for valuable goods need careful
housing, while any place serves to pack humanity. It was not a nice
district to go through, for there was a sense of heat and dirt, and
smell, and crowd, and toil and sorrow throughout. It was probably no
nicer to live in, and nothing proved it better than the overflow of the
children therefrom into the little, hot, paved, airless angle. Here
they could be found from five in the morning till twelve at night.
Here, with guards set, to give notice of the approach of the children’s
joy-destroying Siva—otherwise the policeman—they played ball. Here
“cat” and “one old cat” render bearable many a wilting hour for the
little urchins. Here “Sally in our Alley” and “Skip-rope” made the
little girls forget that the temperature was far above blood-heat. Here
of an evening, Peter smoked and watched them.
At first he was an object of suspicion, and the sport visibly ceased
when he put in an appearance. But he simply sat on one of the benches
and puffed his pipe, and after a few evenings they lost all fear of
him, and went on as if he were not there. In time, an intercourse
sprang up between them. One evening Peter appeared with a stick of
wood, and as he smoked, he whittled at it with a _real_ jack-knife! He
was scrutinized by the keen-eyed youngsters with interest at once, and
before he had whittled long, he had fifty children sitting in the shape
of a semicircle on the stone pavement, watching his doings with almost
breathless Interest. When the result of his work actually developed
into a “cat” of marvellous form and finish, a sigh of intense joy
passed through the boy part of his audience. When the “cat” was passed
over to their mercies, words could not be found to express their
emotions. Another evening, the old clothes-line that served for a
jump-rope, after having bravely rubbed against the pavement many
thousand times in its endeavor to lighten the joyless life of the
little pack, finally succumbed, worn through the centre and quite
beyond hope of further knotting. Then Peter rose, and going to one of
the little shops that supplied the district, soon returned with a
_real_ jump-rope, with _wooden handles!_ So from time to time, _real_
tops, _real_ dolls, _real_ marbles and various other _real_, if cheap,
things, hitherto only enjoyed in dreams, or at most through home-made
attempts, found their way into the angle, and were distributed among
the little imps. They could not resist such subtle bribery, and soon
Peter was on as familiar and friendly a footing as he could wish. He
came to know each by name, and was made the umpire in all their
disputes and the confidant in all their troubles. They were a dirty,
noisy, lawless, and godless little community, but they were interesting
to watch, and the lonely fellow grew to like them much, for with all
their premature sharpness, they were really natural, and responded
warmly to his friendly overtures.
After a time, Peter tried to help them a little more than by mere small
gifts. A cheap box of carpenter’s tools was bought, and under his
superintendence, evenings were spent in the angle, in making various
articles. A small wheel barrow, a knife-and-fork basket, a
clock-bracket and other easy things were made, one at a time. All boys,
and indeed some girls, were allowed to help. One would saw off the end
of a plank; another would rule a pencil line; the next would plane the
plank down to that line; the next would bore the holes in it; the next
would screw it into position; the next would sandpaper it The work went
very slowly, but every one who would, had his share in it, while the
rest sat and watched. When the article was completed, lots were drawn
for it, and happy was the fortunate one who drew the magnificent prize
in life’s lottery!
Occasionally too, Peter brought a book with him, and read it aloud to
them. He was rather surprised to find that they did not take to
Sunday-school stories or fairy tales. Wild adventures in foreign lands
were the most effective; and together they explored the heart of
Africa, climbed the Swiss mountains, fought the Western Indians, and
attempted to discover the North Pole. They had a curious liking for
torture, blood-letting, and death. Nor were they without
discrimination.
“I guess that fellow is only working his jaw,” was one little chap’s
criticism at a certain point of the narrative of a well-known African
explorer, rather famous for his success in advertising himself. Again,
“that’s bully,” was the comment uttered by another, when Peter, rather
than refuse their request to read aloud, had been compelled to choose
something in Macaulay’s Essays, and had read the description of the
Black Hole of Calcutta, “Say, mister,” said another, “I don’t believe
that fellow wasn’t there, for he never could a told it like that, if he
wasn’t.”
As soon as his influence was secure, Peter began to affect them in
other ways. Every fight, every squabble, was investigated, and the
blame put where it belonged. Then a mandate went forth that profanity
was to cease: and, though contrary to every instinct and habit, cease
it did after a time, except for an occasional unconscious slip.
“Sporadic swearing,” Peter called it, and explained what it meant to
the children, and why he forgave that, while punishing the intentional
swearer with exclusion from his favor. So, too, the girls were told
that to “poke” tongues at each other, and make faces, was but another
way of swearing; “for they all mean that there is hate in your hearts,
and it is that which is wrong, and not the mere words or faces.” He ran
the risk of being laughed at, but they didn’t laugh, for something in
his way of talking to them, even when verging on what they called
“goody-goody,” inspired them with respect.
Before many weeks of this intercourse, Peter could not stroll east from
his office without being greeted with yells of recognition. The elders,
too, gave him “good-evening” pleasantly and smiled genially. The
children had naturally told their parents about him of his wonderful
presents, and great skill with knife and string.
“He can whittle anything you ask!”
“He knows how to make things you want!”
“He can tie a knot sixteen different kinds!”
“He can fold a newspaper into soldiers’ and firemen’s caps!”
“He’s friends with the policeman!”
Such laudations, and a hundred more, the children sang of him to their
elders.
“Oh,” cried one little four-year-old girl, voicing the unanimous
feeling of the children, “Mister Peter is just shplendid.”
So the elders nodded and smiled when they met him, and he was pretty
well known to several hundred people whom he knew not.
But another year passed, and still no client came.