WHERE THE SPARKS FLEW
Along about three o'clock that afternoon Hugh, feeling refreshed,
made up his mind he would go for a walk. There had been no positive
change in the condition of the mother of little Joey. She was coming
along nicely, though, Doctor Cadmus assured Mrs. Morgan, and would
very likely awaken in her proper senses on the following morning. He
was successfully combating the inclination towards fever, he told the
good lady, and this gave Hugh's mother considerable relief.
The boy was a fine little chap. Hugh had already come to feel a deep
interest in him, and had played for an hour with Joey.
"Why not take him out with you, Hugh, if, as you say, you're going
for a walk?" asked his mother.
"I'd like to," the boy said, "if you thought he could stand going
such a distance as out to the Cross-roads; for I meant to drop in on
Deacon Winslow. He asked me to come and see him, and perhaps stay to
supper in the bargain, for he wants to have a good chat with me.
And, Mother, I've been meaning to get to know that fine old man
better; there's something about him that draws me. He's got such
healthy ideas about everything, and is an entertaining talker when it
comes to the habits of animals, and the secrets of all animated
nature."
"Well, I'm sure little Joey would enjoy the walk. He seems fond of
being outdoors, and has been shut up here since you brought him home.
And if Deacon Winslow urges you both to take supper with him, there's
no reason why you should decline. He may fetch you home in his
sleigh, if the child seems tired, and sleepy."
Hugh decided he would do as his mother suggested.
"Would you like to take a nice long walk out in the country with me,
Joey?" he asked the little fellow, who had been hovering near by, and
listening to all that was being said.
"I like to walk," the small chap replied quickly; "but not all day,
like mom and me did. Mebbe she'll be awake when we come back, Hugh?"
Each time he had been allowed in the room to see his mother was when
she happened to be in a deep sleep, and her ravings had ceased; so it
was natural for Joey to conclude she was only making up for lack of
rest.
So, shortly afterwards, the two started forth, the little fellow with
his hand in that of Hugh. He had come to feel the utmost confidence
in this big boy who, in the time of their distress, had fetched
himself and his poor fainting mother to the nice warm house, where
they seemed to have the nicest things to eat he could ever remember
of seeing.
Hugh kept an eye about him, half hoping he might run across Thad,
although the other had not expected to return before dusk. No such
luck befell him, and so Hugh concluded he must carry out his original
scheme, and have only the child for company during his stroll.
Of course, they could not walk at a fast pace, and so it took quite a
long time for them to draw near the place where the two roads
crossed. Here, at a point where there was much traffic in vehicles,
the smithy of the old deacon stood. Time was when he attended only
to the shoeing of horses, and such other business as a blacksmith
would find in his line. The coming of the auto had made him change
his work to some extent; so he kept a line of rubber tires and tubes
in his shop, and was capable of doing all ordinary repairing, such as
might be found necessary after a minor accident to a car on the road.
It was pleasant, indeed, when the wintry air was so keen, to step up
to the open doors of the shop, and see that seething fire in the
forge beyond the grim anvil. Mr. Winslow stood there, with his
leather apron on, and his woollen sleeves rolled up to his elbows,
showing his brawny arms with their muscles of steel. He was working
the bellows and singing softly to himself, after a habit he had when
alone.
Apparently, he had let his helper off earlier than customary that
afternoon, for the deacon was not a hard employer, and ready to grant
favors when business was not rushing.
Hugh stood there and took in the striking picture, with the glowing
fire in the forge, that fine, big figure of the old blacksmith
standing there. The rosy light played on his strong features as he
crooned his song, his thoughts possibly away back in the past, as is
the habit of those who near the end of their life span.
Just then little Joey sneezed. The low song of the deacon came to an
abrupt end, as he turned his head and discovered the two figures in
the open doorway.
He recognized Hugh immediately, and a look of genuine pleasure
flashed across his face.
"Is that you, Hugh?" he called out, stopping work with the bellows;
"and have you come out to take a bite with the old lady and myself?
I'm certainly glad to see you, lad. And who might this fine little
chap be?"
It was only natural that a man who loved all boys, little and big, as
Deacon Winslow did, should drop down on one knee and take Joey in his
arms. When he looked into the little fellow's winsome face he seemed
strangely moved. But then in these later days it was always so with
the old man; never a child did he see but that long-hidden memories
flowed again, and once more he seemed to be looking on his own boy,
gone ages and ages ago.
"He and his mother are stopping at our house," said Hugh, meaning to
tell how he had come to find them in their extremity, later on, when
possibly the child was not present to hear what he said.
"I've just got a small amount of work to finish, and then I'm done
for the week," said the brawny smith, as he arose again, winking very
fast, it seemed to Hugh, for some reason or other. "Here's a bench
you can both sit on, and watch the sparks fly from the anvil when I
get my hammer busy. Likely the lad has never seen the same before,
and it is always deeply interesting to children, I've found."
So they made themselves comfortable. Little Joey was a bit tired
after his long walk, and leaned confidingly up against Hugh, who had
thrown an arm about him.
The smiting of the red bar with the hammer caused a shower of sparks
to fly in every direction. It was fairly fascinating, and Joey
stared with all his might. Even Hugh always enjoyed seeing a
blacksmith at work, and hearing the sweet-toned ring of steel smiting
steel.
Now and again as he worked, Deacon Winslow would ask some question.
He was acquainted with the fact that the boys of Scranton High had
expected to play a hockey match that morning with the Keyport team,
and as no one had thus far told him how the game came out, he asked
Hugh about it.
From this subject the talk drifted to others, always being of a
somewhat sporadic nature, caused by the smith's starting work again,
after heating his iron bar sufficiently in the fire.
"I'll have the night free, for a wonder," he told Hugh, with a sigh
of pleasure. "I try as best I can to avoid working late on Saturday,
because I want to be as fresh as possible Sundays, which are always
full days for me. So when Nick wanted to come out Saturdays, I
induced him to change it to an earlier night instead. By the way,
how is the lad coming, on these days with his new resolutions?"
Accordingly, Hugh started in to tell him how Nick was doing finely,
and even repeated a part of the little talk he and the other had had
that morning, while on the way to town from the park.
Mr. Winslow listened intently, as he worked the bellows.
"I'm very much interested in the outcome of your experiment, Hugh,"
he said. "It was a clever idea on your part; and now that Nick has
made a start I do believe he'll see it through. I always thought he
had it in him to work out his own salvation, if ever he got a fair
chance. That opportunity has now dawned, and he's on the right road,
Hugh; he's on the right road."
"I agree with you there, sir," said the boy. "The very stubborn
spirit that used to get him into so much trouble is now going to be
his redemption, since he's got it harnessed up to the right sort of
vehicle. The more they try to shove Nick off the track the harder
he'll be apt to stick."
"It was the luckiest thing that ever happened for him," continued the
deacon, "when you hatched up that wonderful plan on the spur of the
moment, and tried it out on him. But for that, Hugh, he'd now be
locked up with his former mates, and headed for the Reform School at
full speed. As it is, he is free to walk the streets, and already
beginning to win the confidence of many good people in the town."
Ten minutes afterwards and the brawny smith threw his hammer aside,
and commenced to undo the thongs that fastened his leathern apron
about his loins.
"I've finished my stint, lad," he said; "and now we can go into the
house, where you'll meet my better-half. I've told her so much about
you, she is eager to make your acquaintance. As for this fine, manly
little chap here, who seems to spring straight into my heart the more
I look at him, as if he belonged there, she'll be half-tickled to
death at the chance to cuddle him in her motherly arms. Alas! lad,
it's been many a long, weary year since she had the privilege of
loving a child of her own. Sometimes when I see her sitting there,
so quiet like, and looking into the wonderfully brilliant sunset
skies, I seem to know what she is thinking about, and I feel for her.
It's harder on a mother, than anyone else, to lose her child as we
did our poor, reckless boy."
Hugh felt a queer sensation in the region of his heart when he heard
the big man speak so mournfully. He realized then as never before
how the heart of a parent can never fully recover from a cruel shock,
such as the loss of one who as a little child had come, it was hoped,
as a ray of sunlight in the lives of those who loved him.
The home of the smith adjoined his shop. There was, in fact, a door
that connected them, and through this Deacon Winslow now led his
thrice welcome guests. Presently they found themselves in what
seemed to be a cozy little sitting-room, where a wood-fire blazed
cheerily on the hearth.
Seated in one of those invalid wheel-chairs, which can be so easily
manipulated by the occupant, after becoming expert at the job, was a
most benign-looking and motherly old lady, with snow-white hair, and
a face that was one of the sweetest and most patient Hugh had ever
gazed upon.
He knew instantly that he was going to like Mrs. Winslow just as much
as he did her big husband. All the good things he had heard about
her benevolence must then be true, he concluded, as he looked on her
smiling face.
"Mother, here's my friend, Hugh Morgan, come out to take supper with
us, as I told you he'd half-promised to do," said the deacon, in his
breezy fashion. "And see, he has fetched a little chap along with
him who'll warm your heart as nothing else could do. This is Joey
Walters, who, with his mother, is stopping at the Morgan home. Hugh
didn't say whether they were any relatives of his or not; but this is
a mighty winsome morsel, Mother, for you to hug."
He thereupon lifted the child up in his strong hands and placed him
in the lap of the old lady. Hugh noticed that she started, and
stared hard at the chubby face of little Joey, just as the deacon had
done; and then she turned her wondering eyes toward her husband.
There was a look akin to awe in their depths, something that told how
the sight of the child took her instantly back years and years to
those never-to-be-forgotten days when just such a lovely little
cherub had come to bless their home.
Then the old lady gave a long sigh.
"Oh, Joel!" she said, in a trembling voice, "how the sight of him
startled me. I can shut my eyes, and think time has taken me back to
our first year of wedded life. Yes, I am overjoyed at making the
acquaintance of such a robust little fellow. And, Hugh, forgive me
for not speaking to you before. I have heard much about you, and am
pleased to know you. But, above all things, let me thank you for
bringing this child out here to open the hearts of two lonely old
people who live only in the past as their sun goes down toward the
darkness of the night."
"I'll run along now, and take my regular bath after my work," said
Deacon Winslow, trying to speak cheerily, though Hugh knew very well
he had been more or less affected by what his wife had just said.
Left alone with the old lady, while the servant bustled in and out,
laying the cloth, and setting the table, Hugh commenced an
interesting conversation. She asked him a multitude of questions
covering all sorts of subjects, even to that of athletic sports.
"You see, the Deacon is fond of boys to an extent that it has become
his one hobby," she explained, in order to let Hugh know why she felt
an interest in such matters. "He spends all his spare time doing
things to make growing lads happier, and more contented in their
homes. People will never know one-tenth of what he's done to save
boys who were going the pace. His latest protege in that line you
happen to know, a hulking fellow named Nick Lang, who, I understand,
has been the terror of Scranton for years. I've met him, and must
say I have my doubts whether he can ever be tamed, and molded into a
respectable member of society; but Joel seems to believe no boy is so
bad but what he has a soft streak in him _somewhere_, if only you can
find it."
"Well, since he hasn't told you about the inspiration that came to
me," Hugh felt constrained to say, though averse to speaking of his
own successes, "I want to say that right now Nick Lang is on the road
to making good."
"Please tell me all about it then, Hugh?" she urged him.
Accordingly, Hugh started to relate the story from the very
beginning; and he had a deeply interested auditor; for Mrs. Winslow
sat there in her wheel-chair, with little Joey cuddled in her arms,
and one of his soft, chubby hands patting her face.