The Wonderful Ending
"Sure, and it's not meself can tackle the road, the day. As well be
'docked' for the end as the beginnin', an' I'm minded to keep that lot
company a piece," remarked Timothy Dowd, to his sister's husband's
cousin. "That monkey is most interestin', most interestin' an'
improvin'; an' 'tisn't often a lad from old Ireland has the chance to
get acquaintance of the sort, leave alone that Glory girl, what's took
up quarters in me heart an' won't be boosted thence, whatever. The poor
little colleen! A-lookin' for one lost old man out of a world full!
Bless her innocent soul! Yes. I've a mind to company them a bit. What
say, Mary, woman?"
"What need to say a word, sence when a man's bent to do a thing he does
it? But keep an open ear, Timothy, boy. I'm curious to know what sort o'
trouble 'tis, Dennis hints at, as comin' to them old people yon. And
he'd never say, considerin' as he does, that what goes on in the big
house is no consarn o' the cottage, an' fearin' to remind 'em even't
we're alive, lest they pack us off an' fetch in folks with no childer to
bless an' bother 'em. Yes, go, Timothy; and wait; here's one them handy
catch-pins, that Glory might tighten her skirt a bit."
Timothy's usually merry face had been sadly overclouded as he watched
the departure of Glory and her companions, but it lightened instantly
when Mary favored his suggestion to follow and learn their fortune. With
his hat on the back of his head, his stick over his shoulder, and his
unlighted pipe in his mouth--which still managed to whistle a gay tune
despite this impediment--he sauntered along the road in the direction
the others had taken, though at some distance behind them. But when they
passed boldly through the great iron gates and followed the driveway
winding over the beautiful lawn, his bashfulness overcame him, and he
sat down on the bank-wall to await their return, which must be, he
fancied, by that same route; soliloquizing thus:
"Sure, Tim, me boy, if it's tramps they object to, what for 's the use
o' turnin' your honest self into such? Them on ahead has business to
tend to; the business o' makin' sweet music where music there is none;
an' may the pennies roll out thick an' plenteous an' may the Eyetalian
have the good sense in him to share them same with my sweet colleen.
It's thinkin' I am that all is spent on such as her is money well
invested. So I'll enjoy the soft side this well-cut top-stone, till so
be me friends comes along all in a surprise to see me here."
His own whistling had ceased, and though he listened closely he could
not hear Luigi's organ or any sound whatever. The truth was that the way
seemed endless from the entrance to the house upon the terrace; and that
having reached it at last, both Luigi and Glory were dismayed by the
magnitude of the mansion and confused by its apparently countless
doorways. Before which they should take their stand, required time to
decide; but unobserved, they finally settled this point. Luigi rested
his instrument upon its pole, loosed Jocko to his gambols, and tuned up.
The strains which most ears would have found harsh and discordant
sounded pleasantly enough to the listening Timothy, who nodded his head
complacently, wishing and thinking:
"Now he's off! May he keep at it till he wheedles not only the pence but
the dollars out the pockets o' them that hears! 'Twill take dollars
more'n one to keep Glory on her long road, safe and fed, and----Bless
us! What's that?"
What, indeed, but the wildest sort of uproar, in which angry voices, the
barking of dogs, the screams of frightened women drowning the feeble
tones of "Oft in the Stilly Night," sent Timothy to his feet and his
feet to speeding, not over the graveled driveway, but straight across
the shaven lawn, where passage was forbidden. But no "Keep off the
grass" signs deterred him, as he remembered now, too late, all that he
had heard of the ferocity of the Broadacre dogs which its master kept
for just such occasions as this.
"Bloodhounds! And they've loosed them! Oh, me darlin' colleen! Ill to me
that I let ye go wanderin' thus with that miserable Eyetalian! But I'm
comin'! Tim's comin'!" he yelled, adding his own part to the wild chorus
above.
He reached the broad paved space before the great door none too soon,
and though, ordinarily, he would have given the yelping hounds a very
wide berth, he did not hesitate now. Huddled together in a group, with
the frantic animals bounding and barking all around them, though as yet
not touching them, stood the terrified Luigi and his friends; realizing
what vagrancy means in this "land of the free," and how even to earn an
honest living one should never dare to "trespass."
But even as Timothy forced his stalwart frame between the children and
the dogs, the great door opened and a white-haired gentleman came
hurrying out. Thrusting a silver whistle to his lips he blew upon it
shrilly, and almost instantly the uproar ceased, and the three hounds
sprang to his side, fawning upon him, eager for his commendation.
Instead of praise, however, they were given the word of command and
crouched beside him, licking their jaws and expectant, seemingly, of a
further order to pounce upon the intruders.
"Who loosed the dogs?" demanded the gentleman, in a clear-ringing,
indignant tone.
Now that he seemed displeased by their too solicitous obedience, none of
the gathering servants laid claim to it; and while all stood waiting,
arrested in their attitudes of fear or defense, a curious thing
happened. Glory Beck threw off the protecting arms of Timothy Dowd and,
with Bonny Angel clasped close in her own, swiftly advanced to the
granite step where the white-haired gentleman stood. Her face that had
paled in fear now flushed in excitement as with a voice unlike her own
she cried:
"You, sir! You, sir! What have you done with my grandfather?"
The gentleman stared at her, thinking her fright had turned her brain;
but saying kindly, as soon as he could command his voice:
"There, child. It's all right. The dogs won't touch you now."
"The dogs!" retorted the child, in infinite scorn. "What do I care for
the dogs? It's you I want. You, that 'Snug-Harbor'-Bonnicastle-man who
coaxed my grandpa Simon Beck away from his own home an' never let him
come back any more!"
Then her anger subsiding into an intensity of longing, she threw herself
at his feet, clasping his knees and imploring, piteously:
"Oh! take me to him. Tell me, tell me where he is. I've looked so long
and I don't know where and--please, please, please."
For a moment nobody spoke; not even Colonel Bonnicastle, for it was he,
indeed, though he silently motioned to a trustworthy man who had drawn
near to take the dogs away; and who, in obedience, whistling
imperatively, gathered their chains in his hands and led them back to
their kennel.
When the dogs had disappeared, the master of Broadacres sank into a
near-by chair, wiping his brow and pityingly regarded the little girl
who still knelt, imploringly. He was trying to comprehend what had
happened, what she meant, and if he had ever seen her before. Captain
Simon Beck! That was a familiar name, surely, but of that ungrateful
seaman, who wouldn't be given a "Snug Harbor" whether or no, of him he
had never heard nor even thought since his one memorable uncomfortable
visit to Elbow Lane.
"Simon Beck--Simon Beck," he began, musingly. "Yes, I know a Simon Beck,
worthy seaman, and would befriend him if I could. Is he your
grandfather, child, and what has happened to him that you speak to me
so--so--well, let us say--rudely?"
Then he added, in that commanding tone which few who knew him ever
disobeyed:
"Get up at once, child. Your kneeling to me is absurd, nor do I know in
what way I can help you, though you think I can do so--apparently. Why!
How strange--how like--"
He had stooped and raised Glory, gently forcing her to her feet, and as
he did so, Bonny Angel turned her own face around from the girl's breast
where she had buried it in her terror of the dogs.
Wasted and shorn of her beautiful hair, clothed in the discarded rags of
a Fogarty twin, it would have taken keen eyes indeed to recognize in the
little outcast the radiant "Guardian Angel" who had flashed upon Glory's
amazed sight that day in Elbow Lane; yet something about it there was
which made the near-sighted colonel grope hastily for his eyeglasses and
in his haste overlook them, so that he muttered angrily at his own
awkwardness.
Into the blue eyes of the little one herself crept a puzzled wondering
look, that fixed itself upon the perplexed gentleman with a slowly
growing comprehension.
Just then, too, when forgetting her own anxiety, Glory looked from the
baby to the man and back again, startled and wondering, a lady came to
the doorway and exclaimed:
"Why, brother, whatever is the matter! Such an uproar----"
But her sentence was never finished. Bonny's gaze, distracted from the
colonel to his sister, glued itself to the lady's face, while the
perplexity in the blue eyes changed to delight. With a seraphic smile
upon her dainty lips, a smile that would have made her recognizable
anywhere, under any disguise, the little creature propelled herself from
Glory's arms to the outstretched arms of Miss Laura, shrilling her
familiar announcement:
"Bonny come! Bonny come!"
How can the scene be best explained, how best described? Maybe in words
of honest Timothy Dowd himself; who, somewhat later, returning to the
Queen Anne cottage, called the entire Fogarty family about him and
announced to the assembled household:
"Well, sirs! Ye could knock me down with a feather!" after which he sank
into profound silence.
"Huh! And is that what ye're wantin' of us, is it? Well, you never had
sense," remarked Mary, turning away indignantly.
Thus roused, the railroader repeated:
"Sure, an' ye could. A feather'd do it, an' easy. But sit down, woman.
Sit down as I bid ye, an' hear the most wonderful, marvelous tale a body
ever heard this side old Ireland. Faith, I wish my tongue was twicet as
long, an' I knew better how to choose the beginnin' from the end of me
story, or the middle from any one. But sit down, sit down, lass, an' bid
your seven onruly gossoons to keep the peace for onct, while I tell ye a
story beats all the fairy ones ever dreamed. But--where to begin!"
"Huh! I'll give you a start," answered Mrs. Fogarty, impatiently. "You
went from here: now go on with your tale."
"I went from here," began Timothy, obediently, and glad of even this
small aid in his task. "I went from here an' I follyed the three of 'em,
monkey an' man an' girl----"
"And the baby. That's four," corrected Dennis, junior, winking at a
brother.
"Hist, boy! Childer should speak when they're spoke to," returned
Timothy, severely, then continued, at length: "I went from here. And I
follyed----"
Here he became so lost in retrospection that Mary tapped him on the
shoulder, when he resumed as if no break had occurred:
"Them four to the gate. But havin' no business of me own on the place, I
stayed behind, a listenin'. An', purty soon up pipes the beautiful
music; an' right atop o' that comes--bedlam! All the dogs a barkin', the
women servants screeching, the old gentleman commandin', and me colleen
huggin' the Angel tight an' saying never a say, though the poor Dago
Eyetalian was trembling himself into his grave, till all a sudden like,
up flies Glory, heedin' dogs nor no dogs, an' flings herself at
Broadacres' feet, demanding her grandpa! Fact, 'twas the same old
gentleman she'd been blamin' for spiritin' away the blind man; and now
comes true he knows no more the sailor's whereabouts than them two
twinses yon. But I've me cart afore me horse, as usual. For all along o'
this, out comes from that elegant mansion another old person, the lady,
Miss Laura Bonnicastle, by your leave. An' she looks at the Angel in me
colleen's arms an' the Angel looks at her; an', whisht! afore you could
wink, out flies the knowin' baby from the one to the other! An' then,
bless us! The time there was! An' you could hear a pin drop, an' in a
minute you couldn't, along of them questions an' answers, firing around,
from one person to another, hit-or-miss-like, an' all talkin' to onct,
or sayin' never a word, any one. An' so this is the trouble, Mary
Fogarty, that Dennis wouldn't mention. The Angel is their own child, and
Dennis Fogarty's the clever chap suspicioned it himself."
"Huh! Now you're fairy-talein', indeed. 'Tis old bachelor and old maid
the pair of them is. I know that much if I don't know more," returned
the house-mistress, reprovingly.
Timothy was undisturbed and ignored her reproof, as he went on with his
story:
"Their child was left for them to care for. The only child of their
nevvy an' niece, who's over seas at the minute, a takin' a vacation,
with hearts broke because of word comin' the baby was lost. Lost she was
the very day them Bonnicastles set for leaving the city house an' comin'
to Broadacres; an' intrustin' the little creatur' by the care of a
nursemaid--bad luck to her--to be took across the big bridge, over to
that Brooklyn where did reside a friend of the whole family with whom
the baby would be safe till called for; meanin' such time as them
Bonnicastles had done with the movin' business an' could take care of it
theirselves, proper. Little dreamin' they, poor souls, how that that
same nursemaid would stop to chatter with a friend of her own, right at
the bridge-end and leave the child out of her arms just for the minute,
who, set on the ground by herself, runs off in high glee an' no more to
that story, till she finds herself in the 'littlest house,' where me
colleen lived; an' what come after ye know. But ye don't know how the
nursemaid went near daft with the fear, and wasted good days a searchin'
an' searchin' on her own account; the Bonnicastles' friend-lady over in
Brooklyn not expecting no such visit an' not knowin' aught; 'cause the
maid carried the note sayin' so in her own pocket. All them rich folks
bein' so intimate-like, preparin' 'em wasn't needful. And then, when the
truth out, all the police in the city set to the hunt, and word sent
across the ocean to the ravin'-distracted young parents, an'--now, all's
right! Such joy, such thanksgivin', such cryin' an' laughin'--bless us!
I couldn't mention it."
"But that poor little Glory! Hard on her to find the Angel's folks an'
not her own!" said Mary, gently.
"Not hard a bit! She's that onselfish like, 'twould have done you proud
to see her clappin' her hands an' smilin', though the tears yet in her
eyes, 'cause she an' Bonny must part. And 'How's that?' asks Miss Laura,
catching the girl to her heart and kissin' her ill-cropped head, 'do you
think we will not stand by you in your search and help you with money
and time and every service, you who have been so faithful to our
darlin'?' And then the pair o' them huggin' each other, like they'd
loved each other sence the day they was born."
Here, for sheer want of breath, Timothy's narrative ended, but Mary
having a vivid imagination, allowed it full play then and prophesied,
sagely and happily:
"Well, then, all of ye listen, till I tell ye how 'twill be. That old
man was run over in the street was Captain Simon Beck; and though he was
hurted bad, he wasn't killed; and though them clever little newsboys
couldn't find him, the folks Colonel Bonnicastle sets searchin' will.
An' when he's found, he'll be nigh well; an' he'll be brought out here
an' kep' in a little cottage somewhere on Broadacres property, with
Glory to tend him an' to live happy ever afterward. An' that'll be the
only 'Snug Harbor' any one'll ever need. An' we shan't have lost our
Glory but got her for good."
"But them Billy Button and Nick Parson boys, what of them?" demanded
Dennis, junior, his own sympathy running toward the clever gamins.
"They'll come too, if they want to. They'll come, all the same, now and
again, just for vari'ty like," comfortably assented his mother. "An'
your father'll get well, an' we'll move into that other house down yon,
further from the big one; an' them Bonnicastles'll fix this up prime an'
Glory'll live here."
"So it ought to be, an' that we all should live happy forever an' a
day!" cried Timothy, enjoying her finish of his tale more than he had
his own part in it.
And so, in truth it all happened, and Mary's cheerful prophecy was
fulfilled in due time.
* * * * * *
MOTOR CYCLE SERIES
Splendid Motor Cycle Stories
By LIEUT. HOWARD PAYSON. Author of "Boy Scout Series." Cloth Bound.
Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS AROUND THE WORLD.
Could Jules Verne have dreamed of encircling the globe with a motor
cycle for emergencies he would have deemed it an achievement greater
than any he describes in his account of the amusing travels of Philias
Fogg. This, however, is the purpose successfully carried out by the
Motor Cycle Chums, and the tale of their mishaps, hindrances and delays
is one of intense interest, secret amusement, and incidental information
to the reader.
THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS OF THE NORTHWEST PATROL.
The Great Northwest is a section of vast possibilities and in it the
Motor Cycle Chums meet adventures even more unusual and exciting than
many of their experiences on their tour around the world. There is not a
dull page in this lively narrative of clever boys and their attendant
"Chinee."
THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS IN THE GOLD FIELDS.
The gold fever which ran its rapid course through the veins of the
historic "forty-niners" recurs at certain intervals, and seizes its
victims with almost irresistible power. The search for gold is so
fascinating to the seekers that hardship, danger and failure are
obstacles that scarcely dampen their ardour. How the Motor Cycle Chums
were caught by the lure of the gold and into what difficulties and novel
experiences they were led, makes a tale of thrilling interest.
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GIRL AVIATORS SERIES
Clean Aviation Stories
By MARGARET BURNHAM.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
THE GIRL AVIATORS AND THE PHANTOM AIRSHIP.
Roy Prescott was fortunate in having a sister so clever and devoted to
him and his interests that they could share work and play with mutual
pleasure and to mutual advantage. This proved especially true in
relation to the manufacture and manipulation of their aeroplane, and
Peggy won well deserved fame for her skill and good sense as an aviator.
There were many stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path, but they
soared above them all to ultimate success.
THE GIRL AVIATORS ON GOLDEN WINGS.
That there is a peculiar fascination about aviation that wins and holds
girl enthusiasts as well as boys is proved by this tale. On golden wings
the girl aviators rose for many an exciting flight, and met strange and
unexpected experiences.
THE GIRL AVIATORS' SKY CRUISE.
To most girls a coaching or yachting trip is an adventure. How much more
perilous an adventure a "sky cruise" might be is suggested by the title
and proved by the story itself.
THE GIRL AVIATORS' MOTOR BUTTERFLY.
The delicacy of flight suggested by the word "butterfly," the mechanical
power implied by "motor," the ability to control assured in the title
"aviator," all combined with the personality and enthusiasm of girls
themselves, make this story one for any girl or other reader "to go
crazy over."
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MOTOR MAIDS SERIES
Wholesome Stories of Adventure
By KATHERINE STOKES.
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THE MOTOR MAIDS' SCHOOL DAYS.
Billie Campbell was just the type of a straightforward, athletic girl to
be successful as a practical Motor Maid. She took her car, as she did
her class-mates, to her heart, and many a grand good time did they have
all together. The road over which she ran her red machine had many an
unexpected turning,--now it led her into peculiar danger; now into
contact with strange travelers; and again into experiences by fire and
water. But, best of all, "The Comet" never failed its brave girl owner.
THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE.
Wherever the Motor Maids went there were lively times, for these were
companionable girls who looked upon the world as a vastly interesting
place full of unique adventures--and so, of course, they found them.
THE MOTOR MAIDS ACROSS THE CONTINENT.
It is always interesting to travel, and it is wonderfully entertaining
to see old scenes through fresh eyes. It is that privilege, therefore,
that makes it worth while to join the Motor Maids in their first
'cross-country run.
THE MOTOR MAIDS BY ROSE, SHAMROCK AND HEATHER.
South and West had the Motor Maids motored, nor could their education by
travel have been more wisely begun. But now a speaking acquaintance with
their own country enriched their anticipation of an introduction to the
British Isles. How they made their polite American bow and how they were
received on the other side is a tale of interest and inspiration.
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BOY INVENTORS SERIES
Stories of Skill and Ingenuity
By RICHARD BONNER
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THE BOY INVENTORS' WIRELESS TELEGRAPH.
Blest with natural curiosity,--sometimes called the instinct of
investigation,--favored with golden opportunity, and gifted with
creative ability, the Boy Inventors meet emergencies and contrive
mechanical wonders that interest and convince the reader because they
always "work" when put to the test.
THE BOY INVENTORS' VANISHING GUN.
A thought, a belief, an experiment; discouragement, hope, effort and
final success--this is the history of many an invention; a history in
which excitement, competition, danger, despair and persistence figure.
This merely suggests the circumstances which draw the daring Boy
Inventors into strange experiences and startling adventures, and which
demonstrate the practical use of their vanishing gun.
THE BOY INVENTORS' DIVING TORPEDO BOAT.
As in the previous stories of the Boy Inventors, new and interesting
triumphs of mechanism are produced which become immediately valuable,
and the stage for their proving and testing is again the water. On the
surface and below it, the boys have jolly, contagious fun, and the story
of their serious, purposeful inventions challenge the reader's deepest
attention.
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BORDER BOYS SERIES
Mexican and Canadian Frontier Series
By FREMONT B. DEERING.
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THE BORDER BOYS ON THE TRAIL.
What it meant to make an enemy of Black Ramon De Barios--that is the
problem that Jack Merrill and his friends, including Coyote Pete, face
in this exciting tale.
THE BORDER BOYS ACROSS THE FRONTIER.
Read of the Haunted Mesa and its mysteries, of the Subterranean River
and its strange uses, of the value of gasolene and steam "in running the
gauntlet," and you will feel that not even the ancient splendors of the
Old World can furnish a better setting for romantic action than the
Border of the New.
THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE MEXICAN RANGERS.
As every day is making history--faster, it is said, than ever before--so
books that keep pace with the changes are full of rapid action and
accurate facts. This book deals with lively times on the Mexican border.
THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE TEXAS RANGERS.
The Border Boys have already had much excitement and adventure in their
lives, but all this has served to prepare them for the experiences
related in this volume. They are stronger, braver and more resourceful
than ever, and the exigencies of their life in connection with the Texas
Rangers demand all their trained ability.
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DREADNOUGHT BOYS SERIES
Tales of the New Navy
By CAPT. WILBUR LAWTON
Author of "BOY AVIATORS SERIES."
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THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON BATTLE PRACTICE.
Especially interesting and timely is this book which introduces the
reader with its heroes, Ned and Herc, to the great ships of modern
warfare and to the intimate life and surprising adventures of Uncle
Sam's sailors.
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ABOARD A DESTROYER.
In this story real dangers threaten and the boys' patriotism is tested
in a peculiar international tangle. The scene is laid on the South
American coast.
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON A SUBMARINE.
To the inventive genius--trade-school boy or mechanic--this story has
special charm, perhaps, but to every reader its mystery and clever
action are fascinating.
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON AERO SERVICE.
Among the volunteers accepted for Aero Service are Ned and Herc. Their
perilous adventures are not confined to the air, however, although they
make daring and notable flights in the name of the Government; nor are
they always able to fly beyond the reach of their old "enemies," who are
also airmen.
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MOTOR RANGERS SERIES
HIGH SPEED MOTOR STORIES
By MARVIN WEST.
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THE MOTOR RANGERS' LOST MINE.
This is an absorbing story of the continuous adventures of a motor car
in the hands of Nat Trevor and his friends. It does seemingly
impossible "stunts," and yet everything happens "in the nick of time."
THE MOTOR RANGERS THROUGH THE SIERRAS.
Enemies in ambush, the peril of fire, and the guarding of treasure make
exciting times for the Motor Rangers--yet there is a strong flavor of
fun and freedom, with a typical Western mountaineer for spice.
THE MOTOR RANGERS ON BLUE WATER; or, The Secret of the Derelict.
The strange adventures of the sturdy craft "Nomad" and the stranger
experiences of the Rangers themselves with Morello's schooner and a
mysterious derelict form the basis of this well-spun yarn of the sea.
THE MOTOR RANGERS' CLOUD CRUISER.
From the "Nomad" to the "Discoverer," from the sea to the sky, the scene
changes in which the Motor Rangers figure. They have experiences "that
never were on land or sea," in heat and cold and storm, over mountain
peak and lost city, with savages and reptiles; their ship of the air is
attacked by huge birds of the air; they survive explosion and
earthquake; they even live to tell the tale!
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BUNGALOW BOYS SERIES
LIVE STORIES OF OUTDOOR LIFE
By DEXTER J. FORRESTER.
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THE BUNGALOW BOYS.
How the Bungalow Boys received their title and how they retained the
right to it in spite of much opposition makes a lively narrative for
lively boys.
THE BUNGALOW BOYS MAROONED IN THE TROPICS.
A real treasure hunt of the most thrilling kind, with a sunken Spanish
galleon as its object, makes a subject of intense interest at any time,
but add to that a band of desperate men, a dark plot and a devil fish,
and you have the combination that brings strange adventures into the
lives of the Bungalow Boys.
THE BUNGALOW BOYS IN THE GREAT NORTH WEST.
The clever assistance of a young detective saves the boys from the
clutches of Chinese smugglers, of whose nefarious trade they know too
much. How the Professor's invention relieves a critical situation is
also an exciting incident of this book.
THE BUNGALOW BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES.
The Bungalow Boys start out for a quiet cruise on the Great Lakes and a
visit to an island. A storm and a band of wreckers interfere with the
serenity of their trip, and a submarine adds zest and adventure to it.
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