_Peaches' Preference in Blessings_
"_God ain't made a sweeter girl 'An Lily, at keeps my heart a-whirl. If
I was to tell an awful whopper, I'd get took by the cross old copper._"
Thus chanted Mickey at his door, his hands behind him. Peaches
stretched both hers toward him as usual; but he stood still, swinging
in front of him a beautiful doll, for a little sick girl. A baby doll
in a long snowy dress and a lace cap; it held outstretched arms, but
was not heavy enough to tire small wavering hands. Peaches lunged
forward until only Mickey's agility saved her from falling. He tossed
the doll on the bed, and caught the child, the lump in his throat so
big his voice was strained as he cried: "Why you silly thing!"
With her safe he again proffered it. Peaches shut her eyes and buried
her face on his breast.
"Oh don't let me see it! Take it away!"
"Why Lily! I thought you'd be crazy about it," marvelled Mickey.
"Honest I did! The prettiest lady sent it to you. Let me tell you!"
"Giving them up is worser 'an never having them. Take it away!" wailed
Peaches.
"Well Lily!" said Mickey. "I never was stuck up about my looks, but I
didn't s'pose I looked so like a granny that you'd think _that_ of me.
Don't I seem man enough to take care of a little flowersy-girl 'thout
selling her doll? There's where I got your granny skinned a mile. I
don't booze, and I never will. Mother hammered that into me. Now look
what a pretty it is! You'll just love it! I wouldn't take it! I'd lay
out anybody who would. Come on now! Negotiate it! Get your flippers on
it!"
He was holding the child gently and stroking her tumbled hair. When he
put her from him to see her face, Mickey was filled with envy because
he had been forced to admit the gift was not from him. He shut his lips
tight, but his face was grim as he studied Peaches' flushed cheeks and
wet eyes, and noted the shaking eagerness for the doll she was afraid
to look at. He reached over and put it into her arms, then piled the
pillows so she could see better, talking the while to comfort her.
"Course it is yours! Course nobody is going to take it! Course you
shall _always_ have it, and maybe a grown-up lady doll by Christmas.
Who knows?"
In utter content Peaches sank against the pillows, watching Mickey,
while she gripped the baby.
"Thank you, Mickey-lovest," she said. "Oh thank you for this Precious
Child!"
"You got to thank a lady about twice my height, with dark hair, pink
cheeks, and beautiful dresses. She's got a big rest house, a lover man,
and an automobile I wish you could see, Lily," he said.
"If I was on the rags in the corner, I'd have this child--wouldn't I?"
scoffed Peaches, still clutching the doll, but her gaze on Mickey.
"What happened was, 'at she _liked you_ for something, and _give_ you
the baby, so you brought it to me. Thank you Mickey, for this Precious
Child!"
Peaches lifted her lips. Mickey met them more obsessed than before.
Then she turned away, clasping the doll. Mickey could see that the
tears were slipping from under the child's closed lids, but her lips
were on the doll face, so he knew she was happy. He stole out to bring
in his purchases for supper, and begin his evening work. He gave
Peaches a drink, her daily rub, cleaned the room without making dust as
the nurse had shown him, and brought water. He shook his fist at the
faucet.
"Now hereafter, nix on the butting in!" he said belligerently. "Mebby I
couldn't have got _that_ doll, but I could have got one she'd have
_liked_ just as well, and earned it extra, in one day. There's one
feature of the Big Brother business that I was a little too fast on.
He's the finest man that ever wanted me, while his rooms are done
shameful. I could put a glitter on them so he could see himself with
the things he has to work with, and he said any time I wanted it, the
job was mine. It wouldn't be cheating him any if I took it, and did
better work than he's getting, and my steady papers are sure in the
morning; that would be sure in the afternoon, and if I cut ice with a
buzz saw, I might get through in time to pick up something else before
coming home, and being sure beats _hoping_ a mile, yes ten miles! Mebby
I'll investigate that business a little further, 'cause hereafter I
provide for my own family. See? Lily was grand about it. Gee! she's
smart to think it out that way all in a minute. But by and by she's
going to have a lot of time to think. Then she'll be remembering about
the lady I got to tell her of 'stead of _me_, as she _should!_ Guess
I'll run my own family! I'll take another look at cleaning that office.
There ain't any lap-dog business in a job, and being paid for it, if
you do it well."
Mickey turned the faucet and marched up the stairs with head high and
shoulders square. His face was grave while he worked, but Peaches was
so happy she did not notice. When he came with her supper she kissed
the doll, then insisted on Mickey kissing it also. Such was the state
of his subjugation he commenced with "Aw!" and ended by doing as he was
told. He even helped lay the doll beside Peaches exactly as her fancy
dictated, and covered it with her sheet, putting its hands outside.
Peaches was enchanted. She insisted on offering it a drink of her milk
first, and was so tremulously careful lest she spill a drop that Mickey
had to guide her hand. He promised to wash the doll's dress if she did
have an accident, or when it became soiled, and bowed his head meekly
to the crowning concession by sitting on the edge of the bed, after he
had finished his evening work, and holding the doll where she could see
it, exactly as instructed, while he told her about his wonderful
adventure.
"Began yesterday," explained Mickey. "You know I told you there was
going to be a surprise. Well this is it. When the lady gave me the
ribbons for you, she told me to come back to-night, and get it. Course
I _could_ a-got it myself. I _would_ a-got it for Christmas----"
"Oh Mickey-lovest, does Christmas come here?"
"Surest thing you know!" said Mickey. "A fat stocking full of every
single thing the Nurse Lady tell Santa Claus a little--a little
flowersy-girl that ain't so strong yet, may have, and a big lady doll
and a picture book."
"But I never had no stockings," said Peaches.
"Well you'll have by _that_ time," promised Mickey.
"Oh Mickey, I'm so glad I want to say a prayin's 'at you found _me_,
'stead of some other kid!" exulted Peaches.
"Yes Miss, and that's one thing I forgot!" said Mickey. "We'll _begin_
to-night. You ain't a properly raised lady unless you say your prayers.
I know the one _She_ taught me. To-night will be a good time, 'cause
you'll be so thankful for your pretty ribbons and your baby, that
you'll just love to say a real thankful prayer." "Mickey, I ain't goin'
to say prayin's! I just _said_ I was," explained Peaches. "I never said
none for granny, 'cause she only told me to when she was drunk."
"No and you never had a box of ribbons to make you look so sweet, or a
baby to stay with you while I'm gone. If you ain't thankful enough for
them to say your prayers, you shouldn't have them, nor any more, nor
Christmas, nor anything, but just--_just like you was_."
Peaches blinked, gasped, digested the statements, then yielded wholly.
"I guess I'll say them. Mickey when shall I?"
"To-night 'fore you go to sleep," said Mickey.
"Now tell me about the baby," urged Peaches.
"Sure! I _was!_ I _could_ a-got it myself, like I was telling you; but
the ones in the stores have such funny clothes. They look so silly. I
knew I couldn't wash them and of course they'd get dirty like
everything does, and we couldn't _have_ them dirty, so I thought it
over, and I said to Mickey-boy, 'if the Joy Lady is so anxious to get
the baby, and sew its clothes herself, why I'll just let her,' so I did
_let_ her, but it took some time to make them, so I had to wait to
bring it 'til tonight. I was to go to her house after it, and when I
got there she was coming home in her car from a long drive, and gee,
Lily, I wish you could have seen her! She's the prettiest lady, and the
most joyous lady I ever saw."
"Prettier than the Nurse Lady?" asked Peaches.
"Well different," explained Mickey. "Nurse Lady is all gold like the
end of Sunrise Alley at four o'clock in the morning. This lady has dark
hair and eyes. Both of them are as pretty as women are made, but they
are not the same. Nurse Lady is when the sun comes up, and warms and
comforts the world; but the doll-lady is like all the stars twinkling
in the moonlight on the park lake, and music playing, and everybody
dancing. The doll-lady is joy, just the Joy Lady. Gee, Lily, you should
have seen her face when the car stopped, while I was coming down the
steps."
"Was she so glad to see you?" asked Peaches.
"'Twasn't me!" said Mickey. "'Twas on her face _before_ she saw me. She
was just gleaming, and shining, and spilling over joy! She isn't the
kind that would dance on the street, nor where it ain't nice to dance;
but she was dancing inside just the same. She pulled me right into that
big fine car, so I sat on the seat with her, and we went sailing, and
skating, and flying along and all the boys guying me, but I didn't
care! I like to ride in her car! I never rode in a car like that
before. She went a-whizzing right to the office of the big man, where
maybe I'll work; I guess I'll go see him tomorrow, I got a hankering
for knowing what I'm going to _do_, and _where_ I'm going to be paid
for it. Well she went spinning there, and she said 'you wait a minute,'
then she ran in and pretty soon out she came with him. His name is Mr.
Douglas Bruce, and I guess it would be a little closer what _She'd_
think right if I'd use it. And hers he calls her by, is Leslie. Ain't
that pretty? When he says 'Leslie' sounds as if he kissed the name as
it came through. Honest it does!"
"I bet he says it just like you say 'Lily!'"
"I wonder now!" grinned Mickey. "Well he came out and what she had told
him, set him crazy too. They just talked a streak, but he shook hands
with me, and she said, 'You tell the driver where to go Mickey,' and I
said, 'Go where, Miss?' and she said, 'To take you home,' and I said,
'You don't need!' and she said, 'I'd like to!' and I saw she didn't
care _what_ she did, so I just sent him to the end of the car line and
saved my nickel, and then I come on here, and both of them----"
"What?" asked Peaches eagerly.
Mickey changed the "wanted to come to see you" that had been on his
lips. If he told Peaches that, and she asked for them to come, and they
came, and then thought he was not taking care of her right, and took
her away from him--then what?
"Said good-bye the nicest," he substituted. "And I'm going to see if
she wants any more letters carried as soon as my papers are gone in the
morning, and if she does, I'm going to take them, and if one is to him,
I'm going to ask him more about the job he offered me, and if we can
agree, I'm going to take it. Then I can buy you what you want myself,
because I'll know every day exactly what I'll have, and when the rent
is counted out, and for the papers, all the rest will be for eating,
and what you need, and to save for your new back."
"My, I wisht I had it now!" cried Peaches. "I wisht I could a-rode in
that car too! Wasn't it perfeckly grand Mickey?"
"Grand as any king," said Mickey.
"What is a king?" asked Peaches.
"One of the big bosses across the ocean," explained Mickey. "You'll
learn them when you get farther with your lessons. They own most all
the money, and the finest houses, and _all the people_. Just _own_
them. Own them so's they can tell good friends to go to it, and _kill_
each other, even _relations_."
"And do they _do_ it?" marvelled Peaches.
"Sure they do it!" cried Mickey. "Why they are doing it _right now!_ I
could bring a paper and read you things that would make you so sick you
couldn't sit up!"
"What kind of things, Mickey?"
"About kings making all the fathers kill each other, and burn down each
other's houses, and blow up the cities, and eat all the food
themselves, and leave the mothers with no home, and no groceries, and
no stove, and no beds, and the bullets flying, and the cities burning,
and no place to go, and the children starving and dying--Gee, I ain't
ever going to tell you any more, Lily! It's too awful! You'd feel
better not to know. Honest you would! Wish I hadn't told you anything
about it at all. Where's your slate? We got to do lessons 'fore it gets
so dark and we are so sleepy we can't see."
Peaches proudly handed him the slate. In wavering lines and tremulous
curves ran her first day's work alone, over erasures, and with
relinings, in hills and deep depressions, which it is possible Mickey
read because he knew what it had to be, he proudly translated,
"Mickey-lovest." Then the lines of the night before, then "cow" and
"milk." And then Mickey whooped because he faintly recognized an effort
to draw a picture of the cow and the milk bottle.
"Grand Lily!" he cried. "Gee, you're the smartest kid I ever knew!
You'll know all I do 'fore long, and then you'll need your back, so's
you can get ready to go to a Young Ladies' Sem'nary."
"What's that?" interestedly asked Peaches.
"A school. Where other _nice_ girls go, and where you learn all that I
don't know to teach you," said Mickey.
"I won't go!" said Peaches.
"Oh yes you will, Miss," said Mickey. "'Cause you're my family, so
you'll do as I say."
"Will you go with me?" asked Peaches.
"Sure! I'll take you there in a big au----Oh, I don't know as I will
either. We'll have to save our money, if we _both_ go. We'll go on a
_street_ car, and walk up a grand av'noo among trees, and I'll take you
in, and see if your room is right, and everything, and all the girls
will like you 'cause you're so smart, and your hair's so pretty, and
then I'll go to a boys' school close by, and learn how to make poetry
pieces that beat any in the papers. Every time I make a new one I'll
come and ask, 'Is Miss Lily--Miss Lily Peaches----' Gee kid, _what's
your name?_"
Mickey stared at Peaches, while she stared back at him.
"I don't know," she said. "Do you care, Mickey?"
"What was your granny's?" asked Mickey.
"I don't know," answered Peaches.
"Was she your mother's mother?" persisted Mickey.
"Yes," replied Peaches.
"Did you ever see your father?" Mickey went on.
"I don't know nothing about fathers," she said.
Mickey heaved a deep sigh.
"Well! _That's_ over!" he said. "_I_ know something about fathers. I
know a lot. I know that you are no worse off, not knowing _who_ your
father was than to know he was so _mean_ that you are _glad_ he's dead.
Your way leaves you _hoping_ that he was just awful nice, and got
killed, or was taken sick or something; my way, there ain't no doubts
in your mind. You are plumb sure he wasn't decent. Don't you bother
none about fathers!"
"My I'm glad, Mickey!" cried Peaches joyously.
"So am I," said Mickey emphatically. "We don't want any fathers coming
here to butt in on us, just as we get your back Carreled and you ready
to start to school."
"Can I go without a _name_ Mickey?" asked Peaches.
"Course not!" said Mickey. "You have to put your name on a roll the
first thing, then you must be interdooced to the Head Lady and all the
girls."
"What'll I do Mickey?" anxiously inquired Peaches.
"Well, for smart as you are in some spots, you're awful dumb in
others," commented Mickey. "What'll you do, saphead? Gee! Ain't you
_mine?_ Ain't you my _family?_ Ain't _my name_ good enough for you?
Your name will be Miss Lily Peaches O'Halloran. That's a name good
enough for a Queen Lady!"
"What's a Queen?" inquired Peaches.
"Wife of those kings we were just talking about."
"Sure!" said Peaches. "None of them have a nicer name than that!
Mickey, is my bow straight?"
"Naw it ain't!" said Mickey. "Take the baby 'til I fix it! It's about
slipped off! There! That's better."
"Mickey, let me see it!" suggested Peaches.
Mickey brought the mirror. She looked so long he grew tired and started
to put it back, but she clung to it.
"Just lay it on the bed," she said.
"Naw I don't, Miss Chicken--O'Halloran!" he said. "Mirrors cost money,
and if you pull the sheet in the night, and slide ours off, and it
breaks, we got seven years of bad luck coming, and we are nix on
changing the luck we have right now. It's good enough for us. Think of
them Belgium kids where the kings are making the fathers fight. This
goes where it belongs, then you take your drink, and let me beat your
pillow, and you fix your baby, and then we'll say our prayers, and go
to sleep."
Mickey replaced the mirror and carried out the program he had outlined.
When he came to the prayer he ordered Peaches to shut her eyes, fold
her hands and repeat after him:
"'Now I lay me down to sleep'"----
Peaches' eyes opened.
"Oh, is it a poetry prayer, Mickey?" she asked.
"Yes. Kind of a one. Say it," answered Mickey.
Peaches obeyed, repeating the words lingeringly and in her sweetest
tones. Mickey thrilled to his task.
"'I pray the Lord my soul to keep'"----he proceeded.
"What's my soul, Mickey?" she asked.
"The very nicest thing inside of you," explained Mickey. "Go on!"
"Like my heart?" questioned Peaches.
"Yes. Only nicer," said Mickey. "Shut your eyes and go on!"
Peaches obeyed.
"'If I should die before I wake'"----continued Mickey.
Peaches' eyes flashed open; she drew back in horror.
"I won't!" she cried. "I won't _say_ that. That's what happened to
granny, an' I saw. She was the awfullest, an' then--the men came. I
_won't!_"
Mickey opened his eyes, looking at Peaches, his lips in a set line, his
brow wrinkled in thought.
"Well I don't know what they went and put _that_ in for," he said
indignantly. "Scaring little kids into fits! It's all right when you
don't _know_ what it means, but when kids has been through what we
have, it's different. I wouldn't say it either. You wait a minute. I
can beat that myself. Let me think. Now I got it! Shut your eyes and go
on:
"If I should come to live with Thee----"
"Well I ain't goin'!" said Peaches flatly. "I'm goin' to stay right
here with you. I'd a lot rather than anywhere. King's house or
anywhere!"
"I never saw such a kid!" wailed Mickey. "I think that's pretty. I like
it heaps. Come on Peaches! Be good! Listen! The next line goes: 'Open
loving arms to shelter me.' Like the big white Jesus at the Cathedral
door. Come on now!"
"I _won't!_ I'm goin' to live right here, and I don't want no big white
Jesus' arms; I want _yours_. 'F I go anywhere, you got to lift me
yourself, and let me take my Precious Child along."
"Lily, you're the worst kid I ever saw," said Mickey. "No you ain't
either! I know a lot worse than you. You just don't understand. I guess
you better pray something you _do_ understand. Let me think again. Now
try this: Keep me through the starry night----"
"Sure! I just love that," crooned Peaches.
"Wake me safe with sunrise bright," prompted Mickey, and the child
smilingly repeated the words. "Now comes some 'Blesses,'" said Mickey.
"I don't know just how to manage them. You haven't a father to bless,
and your mother got what was coming to her long ago; blessing her now
wouldn't help any if it wasn't pleasant; same with your granny, only
more recent. I'll tell you! Now I know! 'Bless the Sunshine Lady for
all the things to make me comfortable, and bless the Moonshine Lady for
the ribbons and the doll.'"
"Aw!" cried Peaches, staring up at him in rebellion.
"Now you go on, Miss Chicken," ordered Mickey, losing patience, "and
then you end with 'Amen,' which means, 'So be it,' or 'Make it happen
that way,' or something like that. Go to it now!"
Peaches shut her eyes, refolded her hands and lifted her chin. After a
long pause Mickey was on the point of breaking, she said sweetly:
"Bless Mickey-lovest, an' bless him, an' bless him million times; an'
bless him for the bed, an' the window, an' bless him for finding the
Nurse Lady, an' bringing the ribbons, an' the doll, an' bless him for
the slate, an' the teachin's, an' bless him for everything I just love,
an' love. Amen--hard!"
When Peaches opened her eyes she found Mickey watching her, a
commingling of surprise and delight on his face. Then he bent over and
laid his cheek against hers.
"You fool little kid," he whispered tenderly. "You precious fool little
flowersy-kid! You make a fellow love you 'til he nearly busts inside.
Kiss me good-night, Lily."
He slipped the ribbon from her hair, straightened the sheets, arranged
as the nurse had taught him, laid the doll as Peaches desired, and then
screened by the foot of the bed, undressed and stretched himself on the
floor. The same moon that peeped in the window to smile her broadest at
Peaches and her Precious Child, and touched Mickey's face to wondrous
beauty, at that hour also sent shining bars of light across the veranda
where Leslie sat and told Douglas Bruce about the trip to the swamp.
"I never knew I could be so happy over anything in all this world that
didn't include you and Daddy. But of course this does in a way; you, at
least. Much as you think of, and are with, Mr. Minturn, you can't help
being glad that joy has come to him at last. Why don't you say
something, Douglas?"
"I have been effervescing ever since you came to the office after me,
and I find now that the froth is off, I'm getting to the solid facts in
the case, and, well I don't want to say a word to spoil your joyous
day, but I'm worried, 'Bringer of Song.'"
"Worried?" cried Leslie. "Why? You don't think he wouldn't be pleased?
You don't think he might not be--responsive, do you?"
"Think of the past years of neglect, insult and humiliation!" suggested
Douglas.
"Think of the future years of loving care, reparation and joy!"
commented Leslie.
"Please God they outweigh!" said Douglas. "Of course they will! It must
be a few things I've seen lately that keep puzzling me."
"What have you seen, Douglas?" questioned Leslie.
"Deals in real estate," he answered. "Consultations with detectives and
policemen, scientists and surgeons."
"But what could that have to do with Nellie Minturn?"
"Nothing, I hope," said Douglas, "but there has been a grimness about
Minturn lately, a going ahead with jaws set that looks ugly for what
opposes him, and you tell me they have been in opposition ever since
they married. I can't put him from my thoughts as I saw him last."
"And I can't her," said Leslie. "She was a lovely picture as she came
across the silver moss carpet, you know that gray green, Douglas, her
face flushed, her eyes wet, her arms full of those perfectly beautiful,
lavender-pink fringed orchids. She's a handsome woman, dearest, and she
never looked quite so well to me as when she came picking her way
beneath the dark tamarack boughs. She was going to ask him to go with
her to take her flowers to Elizabeth, and over that little white casket
she intended--Why Douglas, he couldn't, he simply couldn't!"
"Suppose he had something previously worked out that cut her off!"
"Oh Douglas! What makes you think such a thing?"
"What Minturn said to me this morning with such bitterness on his face
and in his voice as I never before encountered in man," Douglas
answered.
"He said----?" prompted Leslie.
"This is my _last_ day as a _laughing-stock_ for my fellowmen!
To-morrow I shall hold up my head!"
"Why didn't you tell me that _before?_"
"Didn't realize until just now that you and she hadn't _seen_ him--that
you were acting on presumption.
"I'm going to call her!" cried Leslie.
"I wouldn't!" advised Douglas.
"Why not?"
"After as far as she went to-day, if she had anything she wanted you to
know, wouldn't she feel free to call you?"
"You are right," conceded Leslie. "Even after to-day, for me to call
would be an intrusion. Let's not talk of it further! Don't you wish we
could take a peep at Mickey carrying the doll to the little sick girl?"
"I surely do!" answered Douglas. "What do you think of him, Leslie?"
"Great! Simply great!" cried the girl. "Douglas you should have heard
him educate me on the doll question."
"How?" he asked interestedly.
"From the first glimpse I had of him, the thought came to me, 'That's
Douglas' Little Brother'" she explained. "When you telephoned and said
you were sending him to me, just one idea possessed me: to get what you
wanted. Almost without thought at all I tried the first thing he
mentioned, which happened to be a little sick neighbour girl he told me
about. All girls like a doll, and I had one dressed for a birthday gift
for a namesake of mine, and time plenty to fix her another. I brought
it to Mickey and thought he'd be delighted."
"Was he rude?" inquired Douglas anxiously.
"Not in the least!" she answered. "Only casual! Merely made me see how
thoughtless and unkind and positively vulgar my idea of pleasing a poor
child was."
"Leslie, you shock me!" exclaimed Douglas.
"I mean every word of it," said the girl. "Now listen to me! It _is_
thoughtless to offer a gift headlong, without considering a second, is
it not?"
"Merely impulsive," replied Douglas.
"Identically the same thing!" declared Leslie. "Listen I said! Without
a thought about suitability, I offered an extremely poor child the gift
I had prepared for a very rich one. Mickey made me see in ten words
that it would be no kindness to fill his little friend's head with
thoughts that would sadden her heart with envy, make her feel all she
lacked more keenly than ever; give her a gift that would breed
dissatisfaction instead of joy; if that isn't vulgarity, what is?
Mickey's Lily has no business with a doll so gorgeous the very sight of
it brings longing, instead of comfort. It was unkind to offer a gift so
big and heavy it would tire and worry her."
"There _are_ some ideas there on giving!"
"Aren't there though!" said Leslie. "Mickey took about three minutes to
show me that Lily was _satisfied_ as she was, so no one would thank me
for awakening discontent in her heart. He measured off her size and
proved to me that a small doll, that would not tire her to handle,
would be suitable, and so dressed that its clothes could be washed and
would be plain as her own. Even further! Once my brain began working I
saw that a lady doll with shoes and stockings to suggest outdoors and
walking, was not a kind gift to make a bedridden child. Douglas, after
Mickey started me I arose by myself to the point of seeing that a
little cuddly baby doll, helpless as she, one that she could nestle,
and play with lying in bed would be the proper gift for Lily. Think of
a 'newsy' making me see _that!_ Isn't he wonderful?"
"You should have heard him making me see things!" said Douglas. "Yours
are faint and feeble to the ones he taught me. Refused me at every
point, and marched away leaving me in utter rout! Outside wanting you
for my wife, more than anything else on earth, I wanted Mickey for my
Little Brother."
"You have him!" comforted the girl. "The Lord arranged that. You
remember He said, 'All men are brothers,' and wasn't it Tolstoy who
wrote: 'If people would only understand that they are not the sons of
some fatherland or other, nor of governments, but are sons of God?' You
and Mickey will get your brotherhood arranged to suit both of you some
of these days."
"Exactly!" conceded Douglas. "But I wanted Mickey at hand now! I wanted
him to come and go with me. To be educated with what I consider
education."
"It will come yet," prophesied Leslie. "Your ideas are splendid! I see
how fine they are! The trouble is this: you had a plan mapped out at
which Mickey was to jump. Mickey happened to have preconceived ideas on
the subject, so he didn't jump. You wanted to be the king on the throne
and stretch out a royal hand," laughed Leslie. "You wanted to lift
Mickey to your level, and with the inherent fineness in him, have him
feel eternal love and gratitude toward you?"
"That sounds different, but it is the real truth."
"And Mickey doesn't care to be brother to kings, he doesn't perceive
the throne even; he wants you to understand at the start that you will
_take_, as well as _give_. Refusing pay for tidying your office was his
first inning. That 'Me to you!' was great. I can see the accompanying
gesture. It was the same one he used in demolishing my doll. Something
vital and inborn. Something loneliness, work, the crowd, and raw life
have taught Mickey, that we don't know. Learn all you can from him.
I've had one good lesson, I'm receptive and ready for the next. Let's
call the car and drive an hour."
"That will be pleasant," agreed Douglas.
"Anywhere in the suburbs to avoid the crowds," was Leslie's order to
her driver.
Slowly, under traffic regulations, the car ran through the pleasant
spring night; the occupants talking without caring where they were so
long as they were together, in motion, and it was May. They were
passing residences where city and country met. The dwellings of people
city bound, country determined. Homes where men gave so many hours to
earning money, then sped away to train vines, prune trees, dig in warm
earth and make things grow. Such men now crossed green lawns and talked
fertilizers, new annuals, tree surgery, and carried gifts of fragrant,
blooming things to their friends. Here the verandas were wide and
children ran from them to grassy playgrounds; on them women read or sat
with embroidery hoops or visited in small groups.
"Let's move," said Leslie. "Let's coax Daddy to sell our place and come
here. One wouldn't ever need go summering, it's cool and pleasant
always. I'd love it! There's a new house and a lawn under old trees, to
shelter playing children; isn't it charming?"
"Quite! But that small specimen seems refractory."
Leslie leaned forward to see past him. In an open door stood a man
clearly silhouetted against the light. Down the steps sped a screaming
boy about nine. After him ran another five or six years older. When the
child saw he would be overtaken, he headed straight for the street; as
the pursuer's hand brushed him, he threw himself kicking and clawing.
The elder boy hesitated, looking for an opening to find a hold. The car
was half a block away when Leslie turned a white face to Douglas and
gasped inarticulately. He understood something was wrong so signalled
the driver to stop.
"Turn and pass those children again!" ordered Leslie.
As the car went by slowly the second time, the child still fought, the
boy stepped back, while James Minturn with grim face, bent under the
light and by force took into his arms the twisting, fighting boy.
"Heaven help him!" cried Douglas. "Not a sign of happy reconciliation
there!"
Leslie tried to choke down her sobs.
"Oh Nellie Minturn! Poor woman!" she wailed.
"So _that's_ what he was doing!" marvelled Douglas. "A house he has
built to suit himself; training his sons personally, with the
assistance of his Little Brother. That boy was William. I see him in
Minturn's office every day."
"Oh I think he might have given her a chance!" protested Leslie.
"Remember how she was reared! Think what a struggle it was for her even
to contemplate trying to be different."
"Evidently she was too late!" said Douglas. "He must have been gone
before you returned from the swamp."
"I'm going back there and tell him a few things! I think he might have
waited. Douglas, I'm afraid he did wait! She said he told her he wanted
to talk with her when she came back--and oh Douglas, she said he had a
small box and he threatend to 'freeze her soul with its contents!'
Douglas, _what_ could he have had?"
"'Freeze her soul!' Let me think!" said Douglas. "I met Professor
Tickner and Dr. Wills coming from his offices a few days ago, while
he's just back from a trip that he didn't tell me he was taking----
"You mean Tickner, the scientist; Wills, the surgeon?"
"Yes," answered Douglas.
"But those children! Aren't they perfectly healthy?"
"They look it! Lord, Leslie!" cried Douglas, "I have it! He _has_ made
good his threat. He has frozen her soul! What you want to do is to go
to her, Leslie!"
"Douglas, tell me!" she demanded.
"I can't!" said Douglas. "I may be mistaken. I think I am not, but
there is always a chance! Drive to the Minturn residence," he ordered.
They found a closed dark pile of stone.
"Go past that place where the children were again!" said Leslie.
The upper story was quiet. Outlined by veranda lights the massive form
of James Minturn paced back and forth under the big trees, his hands
clasped behind him, his head bowed, and he walked alone.
"Douglas, I'm going to speak to him. I'm going to tell him!" declared
Leslie.
"But you're now conceding that _she_ saw him!" Douglas pointed out.
"Then what have you to tell him that she would not? If she couldn't
move him with what she said, and while you don't know his side, what
could you say to him?"
"Nothing," she conceded.
"Precisely my opinion," said Douglas. "Remember Leslie I am a little
ahead of you in this. You know _her_ side. I know all you have told me
of her, also I know what he has told me; while putting what I have
seen, and heard at the office, and him here with the boys, in a house
she would consider too plebeian for words----"
"No Douglas. No! She is changed!" cried Leslie. "Completely changed, I
tell you! She said she would wipe Malcolm's nose and fix James'
studs----"
"Mere figures of speech!" remarked Douglas.
"They meant she was ready to work with her own hands for happiness,"
said Leslie indignantly.
"I think she's too late!" said Douglas. "I am afraid she is one of the
unhappiest women in the world to-night!"
"Douglas, it wrings my heart!" cried Leslie.
"Mine also, but what can we do?" he answered. "For ten years, she has
persisted in having her way, you tell me; what could she have expected?"
"That he would have some heart," protested Leslie. "That he would
forgive when he was asked, as all of us are commanded to."
"Does it occur to you that he might have confronted her with something
that prevented her from asking?" suggested Douglas. "She may never have
reached her flowers and her proposed concessions."
"What makes you think so?" queried Leslie.
"What I see and surmise, and a thing I know."
"What can I do?" asked Leslie.
"Nothing!" Douglas said with finality. "If either of them wants you,
they know where to find you. But you're tired now. Let's give the order
for home."
"Shan't sleep a wink to-night!" prophesied Leslie.
"I was afraid of that!" exclaimed Douglas. "There may be a message
there for you that will be a comfort."
"So there may be! Let's hurry!" urged the girl.
There was. They found a brief, pencilled note.
DEAR LESLIE:
_After to-day, it was due you to send a word. You tried so hard dear,
and you gave me real joy for an hour. Then James carried out his
threat. He did all to me he intended, and more than he can ever know. I
have agreed to him taking full possession of the boys, and going into a
home such as he thinks suitable. They will be far better off, and since
they scarcely know me, they can't miss me. Before you receive this, I
shall have left the city. I can't state just now where I am going or
what I shall do. You can realize a little of my condition. If ever you
are tired of home life and faintly tempted to neglect it for society,
use me for your horrible example. Good-bye,_
NELLIE MINTURN.
Leslie read this aloud.
"It's a relief to know that much," she said with a deep breath. "I
can't imagine myself ever being 'faintly tempted," but if I am, surely
she is right about the 'horrible example.' Douglas, whatever did James
Minturn have in that box?"
"I could tell you what I surmise, but so long as I don't _know_ I'd
better not," he answered.
"As our mutual friend Mickey would say, 'Nix on the Swell Dames,' for
me!" said Leslie determinedly.
"Thank God with all my heart!" cried Douglas Bruce.