Beside Old Trinity
"Why, what is the matter? Why did she run away?" asked the astonished
stranger.
Billy giggled and punched Nick who was now apportioning the peanuts
among the children he had whistled to his side, but neither lad replied.
This vexed Miss Bonnicastle who had come to the Lane in small hope of
influencing the old captain to do as her brother had wished him to do
and to remove, at once, to the comfortable "Harbor" across the bay. She
had undertaken the task at her brother's request; and also at his
desire, had driven thither in the carriage, in order to carry the blind
man away with her, without the difficulty of getting him in and out of
street cars and ferry boat. It would greatly simplify matters if he
would just step into the vehicle at his own humble door and step out of
it again at the entrance to his new home.
But the Lane had proved even narrower and dirtier than she had expected.
She was afraid that having once driven into it the coachman would not be
able to drive out again, and the odors of river and market, which the
blind seaman found so delightful, made her ill. She had deprived herself
of her accustomed afternoon nap; she had sprained her ankle in falling;
her footman had been gone much longer than she expected, searching for
the captain's house; and though she had been amused by the little scene
among the alley children which had been abruptly ended by Glory's
flight, she was now extremely anxious to finish her errand and be gone.
In order to rest her aching ankle, she stepped back into the carriage
and from thence called to Billy, at the same time holding up to view a
quarter dollar.
Master Buttons did not hesitate. He was glad that Nick happened to be
looking another way and did not see the shining coin which he meant to
have for himself, if he could get it without disloyalty to Glory.
Hurrying forward, he pulled off his ragged cap and inquired, "Did you
want me, ma'am?"
"Yes, little boy. What is your name?"
"Billy."
"What else? Your surname?" continued the questioner.
"Eh? What? Oh--I guess 'Buttons,' 'cause onct I was a messenger boy.
That's what gimme these clo'es, but I quit."
He began to fear there was no money in this job, after all, for the hand
which had displayed the silver piece now rested in the lady's lap; and,
watching the peanut feasters, he felt himself defrauded of his own
rightful share. He stood first upon one bare foot then upon the other,
and, with affectation of great haste, pulled a damaged little watch from
his blouse and examined it critically. The watch had been found in a
refuse heap, and even in its best days had been incapable of keeping
time, yet its possession by Billy Buttons made him the envy of his
mates.
He did not see the amused smile with which the lady regarded him, and
though disappointed by her next question it was, after all, the very one
he had anticipated.
"Billy Buttons, will you earn a quarter by showing me the way to where
Captain Beck lives? that is, if you know it."
"Oh, I knows it all right, but I can't show it."
"Can't? Why not? Is it too far?"
Billy thought he had never heard anybody ask so many questions in so
short a time and was on the point of saying so, impertinently, yet found
it not worth while. Instead, he remarked, "I ain't sayin' if it's fur er
near, but I guess I better be goin' down to th' office now an' see if
they's a extry out. Might be a fire, er murder, er somethin' doin'."
With that courtesy which even the gamins of the streets unconsciously
acquire from their betters, Billy pulled off his cap again and moved
away. But he was not to escape so easily. Miss Laura's hand clasped his
soiled sleeve and forth came another question, "Billy, is that little
girl your sister?"
"Hey? No such luck fer Buttons. She ain't nobody's sister, she ain't.
She just belongs to the hull Lane, Glory does. Huh! Take-a-Stitch my
sister? Wished she was. She's only cap'n---- Shucks!" Having so nearly
betrayed himself, Billy broke from the restraining hand and disappeared.
Miss Bonnicastle sighed and leaned back upon her cushions, feeling that
something evil must have befallen her faithful footman to keep him so
long away, and almost deciding to give up this apparently hopeless
quest. Then she discovered that Nick had drawn near. Possibly, he would
act as her guide, even if his mate had refused. She again held up the
quarter and beckoned the lad.
He responded promptly, his eyes glittering with greed as they fixed upon
the coin--not to be removed from it till it was in his own possession,
no matter how many questions were asked. These began at once, in a
crisp, imperative tone.
"Little boy, tell me your name."
"Nick, the parson."
"Indeed? Nick Parsons, I suppose. Is it?"
"No'm. I'm Nicky Dodd. I got a father. He's Dodd. So be I, 'course. But
the fellers stuck it onto me 'cause--'cause onct I went to a
Sunday-school."
"Don't you go now, Nick Dodd?"
"No, indeedy! Ketch me!" laughed the boy, watching the gleam of the
money his questioner held so lightly between her gloved fingers. What if
she should drop it! If some other child should see it fall and seize it
before he could! "Was--was you a-wantin' somethin' of me, lady?"
"Yes, I was. Will you show me the way to Captain Beck's house?"
Now Nick loved Glory as well as Billy did and he had as fully understood
from her warning gesture that he was to give this stranger no
information concerning her or her grandfather, but, alas! he also loved
money, and he so rarely had it. Just then, too, the "Biggest Show On
Earth" was up at Madison Square Garden and, if Nick had not remembered
that enticing circus, he might not have betrayed his friend. Yet those
wonderful trained animals----Ah!
"Fer that quarter? Ye-es, ma'am, I--I--will," stammered the lad.
So Miss Laura again left her carriage and walked the narrow, dirty
length of the Lane, past the sharp bend which gave it its name of
"Elbow," far down among the warehouses and wharves crowding the approach
to the bridge. As she walked, she still asked questions and found that
all the dwellers in the Lane were better known by their employments than
their real names, how that Glory's deftness with a needle had made her
"Take-a-Stitch," and anybody might guess why Jane was called "Posy" or
Captain Beck had become the "Singer." Besides, she discovered that this
ragged newsboy was as fond and proud of his "Lane" as she was of her
avenue, and that if she had any pity to bestow, she needn't waste it on
him or his mates and that----
"There 'tis! The littlest house in Ne' York," concluded Nick, proudly
pointing forward, seizing the coin she held so carelessly, and
vanishing.
"Well! have I become a scarecrow that all these children desert me so
suddenly!" exclaimed Miss Laura, looking helplessly about and lifting
her skirts the higher to avoid the dirty suds which somebody was
emptying into the gutter.
"Ma'am?" asked the woman with the tub, dropping it and with arms akimbo
staring amazedly at the stranger. How had such a fine madam come there?
"Was you a-lookin' for somebody, ma'am?"
Miss Laura turned her sweet old face toward the other, Meg-Laundress,
and answered, "Yes, for one, Captain Simon Beck. A boy told me this tiny
place was where he lives--though it doesn't seem possible any one could
really live in so small a room--and it's empty now, anyway. Do you know
where he is?"
"Off a-singin' likely. He mostly is, this time o' day."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I have come----" Miss Bonnicastle checked herself,
unwilling to disclose to this rough stranger affairs in which she had no
concern. "I was told he had a grandchild living with him. Is she
anywhere about?"
"Glory? She's off peddlin' her goobers, I s'pose. I can give 'em any
word that's left," said Meg, with friendly interest.
"Glory? Is her name Glory? Is it she I saw with a basket of peanuts, a
yellow haired, bright-faced little girl, in a blue frock?" cried the
lady, eagerly, and recalling the child's inquiry about "Snug Harbor"
felt that she should have guessed as much even then.
"Sure. The purtiest little creatur' goin'; or, if not so purty, so
good-natured an' lovin'. Why, she's all the sunlight we gets in the
Lane, Glory is, an', havin' her, some on us don't 'pear to need no more.
Makes all on us do her say-so but always fer our own betterment. In an'
out, up an' down, lendin' a hand or settin' a stitch or tendin' a baby,
all in the day's work, an' queenin' it over the hull lot, that's our
'Goober Glory,' bless her! And evil to anybody would harm the child, say
I! Though who'd do ill to her? Is't a bit of word you'd be after
leavin', ma'am?" said Meg, with both kindness and curiosity.
"Thank you. If you see either of them, will you say that Miss
Bonnicastle, Colonel Bonnicastle's sister, will be here again in the
morning, unless it storms, upon important business? Ask them to wait
here for me, please. I should not like to make a second useless trip.
Good-afternoon."
As the gentlewoman turned and made her way back along the alley toward
her distant carriage, which could come no nearer to her because the Lane
was so narrow, Meg watched and admired her, reflecting with some pride:
"She's the real stuff, that old lady is. Treated me polite 's if I was
the same sort she is. I wonder what's doin' 'twixt her an' the Becks?
Well, I'll find out afore I sleep, or my name ain't Meg-Laundress, an' I
say it. Guess Jane'll open her eyes when I up an' tells her how one them
grand folks she sees crossin' the bridge so constant has got astray in
the Lane an' come a visitin', actilly a visitin', one our own folks. But
then, I always knowed, we Elbowers was a touch above some, an' now
she'll know it, too.
"I do wish the cap'n would come in," continued Meg. "But 'twill be a
long spell yet afore he does. An', my land! I must sure remind him to
put on his other shirt in the mornin'. He don't never get no sile on
him, the cap'n don't, yet when grand carriage folks comes a callin',
it's a time for the best or nothin'."
By a roundabout way, Glory had hurried, breathlessly, to her tiny home,
fearing that by some mischance grandpa might have returned to it, and
that this fresh advocate of the "Harbor" would find him there. She was
such a pretty old lady, she had such a different manner from that of the
Lane women, she might persuade the gallant old captain to accompany her
to the asylum, whether or no. If he were at home, Glory meant to coax
him elsewhere; or, if he would not go, then she would remain and use her
own influence against that of this dangerous stranger.
One glance showed her that all was yet safe. The tiny room was empty and
neither "Grandpa!" nor "Bo'sn!" answered to her call.
"I hain't got no goobers to sell now an' them boys won't show her a step
of the way an' she couldn't get here so quick all herself without bein'
showed so I may as well rest a minute," said Glory to herself, and sat
down on the narrow threshold to get cool and to decide upon what she
should do.
But she could not sit still. A terrible feeling that these strangers
were determined to separate her from her grandfather made her too
restless. It was natural, she thought, that they should wish to do him a
kindness, such as providing him with a fine home for life. He was a
grown-up man and a very clever one, while she was only a little girl, of
no account whatever. They didn't care about her, 'course, but him----
"I must go find him! I must keep him away, clear, clear away from the
Lane till it gets as dark as dark. Then we can come home an' sleep. Such
as them don't come here o' nights," cried Glory, springing up. "An' I'm
glad grandpa is blind. If he went right close by them two he couldn't
see 'em, an' she, she, anyway, don't know him. I wonder where best to
look first. I s'pose Broadway, 'cause that's where he gets the most
money. They's such a heap of folks on that wide street an' it's so nice
to look at."
Having decided her route, Glory was off and away. She dared not think
about Toni Salvatore and his anger. She did not see how she would ever
be able to repay him for his loss and she could remember nothing at all
about the money Miss Bonnicastle had offered her. If Billy or Nick had
taken it, they would give it to her, of course; but if not--well, that
was a small matter compared to the spiriting away of her grandfather and
she must find him and hold him fast.
"Grandpa don't go above the City Hall, 'cause Bo'sn don't know the way
so well. Up fur's there an' down to Trinity; that's the 'tack he sails'
an' there I'll seek him. I wish one them boys was here to help me look,
though if he was a-singin' I shouldn't need nobody."
So thinking and peering anxiously into the midst of every crowd and
listening with keen intentness, the little girl threaded her way to the
northern limit of the captain's accustomed "beat." But there was no sign
nor sound of him upon the eastern side of the thoroughfare, and,
crossing to the more crowded western side, she crept southward, step by
step, scanning every face she passed and looking into every doorway, for
in such places the blind singer sometimes took his station, to avoid the
jostling of the passers-by.
"Maybe I'll have to go 'way down to the Battery, 'cause he does, often.
Though 'seems he couldn't hardly got there yet."
Now Glory was but a little girl, and, in watching the shifting scenes of
the busy street, she soon forgot her first anxiety and became absorbed
in what was around her. And when she had walked as far southward as old
Trinity, there were the lovely chimes ringing and, as always, a mighty
crowd had paused to listen to them. Glory loved the chimes, and so did
grandpa; and it was their habit on every festival when they were to be
rung to come and hear them. Always the child was so moved by these
exquisite peals that when they ceased she felt as if she had been in
another world, and it was so now. To hear every tone better, she had
clasped her hands and closed her eyes and uplifted her rapt face; and so
standing upon the very curb, she was rudely roused by a commotion in the
crowd about her.
There was the tramping of horses' feet, the shouts of the police, the
"Ahs!" and "Ohs!" of pity which betokened some accident.
"Out the way, child! You'll be crushed in this jam! Keep back there,
people! Keep back!"
Glory made herself as small as she could and shrank aside. Then
curiosity sent her forward again to see and listen.
"An old man!"
"Looks as if he were blind!"
"Back those horses! Make way--the ambulance--make way!"
"All over with that poor fellow! A pity, a pity!"
These exclamations of the onlookers and the orders of the policemen
mingled in one harsh clamor, yet leaving distinct upon Glory's hearing
the words, "An old blind man."
"Oh, how sorry grandpa will be to know that!" thought the child, and,
with eagerness to learn every detail of the sad affair, stooped and
wormed her way beneath elbows and between legs till she had come to the
very roadbed down which an ambulance was dashing at highest speed, its
clanging bell warning everything from its path. Right before the curb
where she stood it paused, uniformed men sprang to the pavement and,
with haste that was still reverent and tender, laid the injured man upon
the stretcher; then off and away again, and the little girl had caught
but the faintest glimpse of a gray head and faded blue garments, yet
thought:
"Might be another old captain, it might. Won't grandpa be sorry--if I
tell him. Maybe I shan't, though I must hurry up an' find him, 'cause
seein' that makes me feel dreadful lonesome, 'seems if. Oh! I do wish
nobody ever need get hurted or terrible poor, or anything not nice!
And--oh, oh, there's that very lady I run away from, what come to the
Lane! Drivin' down in her very carriage and if----She mustn't see me!
She must not--'less she's got him in there with her a'ready! What if!"
Miss Bonnicastle's laudau was, indeed, being carefully driven through
the jam of wagons which had stopped to give the ambulance room and she
was anxiously watching the inch-by-inch progress of her own conveyance.
Yet with an expression of far keener anxiety, Goober Glory recklessly
darted into the very tangle of wheels and animals, crying aloud:
"She's goin' straight down toward that 'Harbor' ferry! Like's not she's
heard him singin' somewhere an' coaxed him to get in there with her. He
might be th' other side--where I can't see--an' I must find out--I must!
For----_What if!_"
She reached the carriage steps, sprang upon them, by one glance
satisfying herself that the lady was alone, turned to retreat, but felt
herself falling.