WHERE IS JERRY?
Carrying her plant in triumph, Cassy appeared before her mother.
“See, see,” she cried out, “just see! Isn’t it lovely? And look at
these violets. Oh, mother, we’ve had the loveliest time, and Jerry has
some morning-glory seeds in his pocket. You don’t know all we’ve been
doing. Were you worried that we didn’t come home to dinner? Did you
think we were kept in?”
“No, for I thought it probable that the charms of that garden would
prove too much for you, yet I thought I should have two half-starved
children to come home to supper.”
“But we’re not half-starved. We had—oh, mother, it’s just like a story.
Tell her about it, Jerry, while I put my flower in the window, and give
the violets a drink of water.” She set the flower-pot carefully on the
sill, and then stood off to see the effect. Truly the gay pink blossom
did brighten up the bare room, while the scent of the violets filled
the air. “I feel so rich,” said Cassy. “I never had such a lovely day.”
“And how about the lessons?” asked Mrs. Law.
Cassy looked a little crestfallen.
“The lessons weren’t quite as good as they are sometimes. You see,”
she came close to her mother and fumbled uneasily with the hem of her
apron. “You see, mother, I couldn’t help thinking about the garden all
the time, and I came near being kept in ’cause I didn’t pay attention.
Wouldn’t that have been dreadful?”
“It would have been pretty bad, for it has never happened to you, and
I would have been very sorry to have had you come home with such a
report.”
“But I remembered just in time, and I did pay attention the rest of the
day. Are you tired, you poor mother, sitting here stitching, stitching
all day long? If I could only have brought you a piece of that pie.”
“Do you think that would have rested me? I am not so very tired, for
this is only Monday, you know.”
“Oh, Jerry,” Cassy turned to her brother, “we forgot to tell her what
the nice boy said. Is he a boy or a young gentleman?”
“Oh, he’s just a boy,” said Jerry grandly, with the judgment of his
superior years.
“His name is Rock, Rock Hardy, but his mother’s name is Dallas. That
is the old Dallas place, you know, where the garden is, and Rock—Mr.
Rock?” She looked inquiringly at Jerry who answered, “No, just Rock; he
told me to call him that. His real name is Rockwell, but they call him
Rock for short.”
“Well then, Rock said that he wished you would come to see his father.
He is a railroad man and maybe he could get you that money.”
Mrs. Law shook her head.
“That was very kind, I am sure, but I could not think of troubling a
stranger. No doubt the boy might think his father would be interested,
but that was only his idea, and I couldn’t think of calling on Mr.
Dallas upon such an invitation. I suppose the gentleman is Mr. Dallas,
and Rock Hardy is his stepson.”
“Yes, he is, and I think Mr. Dallas must be very nice, for Rock is so
fond of him.” Cassy looked disappointed that her mother had not been
willing to go right off to see Mr. Dallas. She had dreamed that great
things would come of it, and now her hopes were blasted. But it did
not take from the memory of the day’s pleasure, and she went about the
room, setting the table for supper, and attending to her little duties,
singing softly.
There was not much in the room; a few cheap chairs, one a large
rocker, a table covered with a red cloth, a kitchen safe and a small
cook-stove; the windows were hung with cheap white curtains, but the
floor was bare of carpet, though it had been stained. The house was
an old one, and was let out in rooms to tenants who could afford only
a small rent, consequently the neighborhood was now none of the best.
There was an ill smell of cooking in the halls, and the sound of a
constant banging of doors, and the shuffle of heavy feet on the bare
stairs could always be heard.
The top floor Mrs. Law thought by far the most desirable, although
it was the cheapest, and with her children near her, away from the
confusion and noise below, she felt that it was as much of a home as
she could hope for.
[Illustration: “EVERY NOW AND THEN FLORA WAS CARRIED OVER AND SHOWN
THE GERANIUM”]
It was hard to keep sturdy Jerry from mixing with the neighborhood
boys, but though he had learned many of their rough ways and much of
their speech, he was not without good principles, and was careful not
to bring the language of the street into his home. His faults were not
such as came from an evil heart, and his love for his mother and sister
would cause any one to forgive him many mistakes.
Cassy was such a mother-child that she shrank from the children in the
house, and when she was at home from school rarely played with them.
She would rather stay with her mother. Her principal playmate was a
battered doll, which she had owned since she was a baby. It was the
last gift from her father, and she prized it above all her possessions.
The next afternoon she established herself in a corner with her doll,
Flora, and carried on a long whispered conversation with her. Every
now and then Flora was carried over and shown the geranium, and made
to peer into the box which held the morning-glory seeds. At last the
daylight waned and Mrs. Law moved nearer the window.
“It’s ’most bedtime, but I’ll tell you a story before you go to
bed,” she heard Cassy say to her doll. “Listen, and it will give you
something to think about while you are trying to go to sleep. Once
there was a little girl ’bout as big as me, and she had a mother and
a brother and she hadn’t any money at all, but they all wanted some,
so her mother went to see a gentleman who knew where there was lots of
railroad money, and he gave a whole lot of it to her mother ’cause her
husband had been hurt in a railroad accident, and so the little girl
had a whole window full of flowers and violets every day, and chicken
sandwiches and apple pie, but she didn’t get a new doll, only a new
silk dress for her old one—a blue silk dress just like the sky, and oh
yes—they had a nice little house with morning-glories growing all over
the porch, and the little girl’s mother didn’t have to make any more
buttonholes or sew any more on the sewing-machine; she sat on a velvet
chair and ate the chicken sandwiches and apple pie all day.”
At this point Mrs. Law laughed. “Didn’t she get rather tired of that?”
she asked.
“Oh, mother, were you listening?”
“I couldn’t very well help hearing.”
“That’s a new story,” said Cassy, gravely undressing her doll. “I’ve
never told it to Flora before. It’s not quite a true story, but I wish
it was, don’t you?”
“All but the occupation of the little girl’s mother. I think she would
get dreadfully tired of sitting on a velvet chair, and of eating
sandwiches and pie _all_ day.”
Cassy laughed.
“I don’t believe I’d get tired of them. Come, Flora, you must go to
bed. I’ll give you one more sniff of violets before you go.” And after
being allowed once more to bury her snub nose in the bunch of violets,
Flora was put to bed, her crib being a wooden footstool turned upside
down, and her covers being some old bits of cotton cloth.
“Go call Jerry and we’ll have supper,” said Mrs. Law.
Cassy placed the violets carefully in the middle of the table, and
leaving her mother to dish up the oat-meal, she went in search of
Jerry. Hearing voices in the back yard she first went there, but
there was no sign of him, and she went next to the front door, which
generally stood wide open. She looked up and down the dingy street, but
saw nothing of her brother. She ran down the steps looking to right and
left. At the corner she saw Billy Miles with a group of boys.
“Who ye lookin’ fer?” asked Billy.
“I’m looking for Jerry,” Cassy told him. “Have you seen anything of
him?”
“I seen him ’bout an hour ago,” he returned, winking at the other boys,
who broke out into a loud laugh.
Cassy looked at them sharply.
“You know where he is,” she said positively. “I think you might tell
me.”
“I don’t have to,” said Billy teasingly. “Go look for your precious
brother if you want him. He’s so stuck up I guess you’ll find him on
top of a telegraph pole.”
Another loud laugh followed this witty remark, and Cassy turned away
feeling that Jerry was in some place of which the boys knew, and that
they had been the means of keeping him there. She well knew that to go
home and tell her mother or to get the policeman on the beat to help
her would be a sure means of bringing future trouble upon both herself
and Jerry, so she determined to hunt for him herself.
She ran down the street calling, “Jerry, Jerry, where are you?” But
after making a long search and finding no sign of her brother, she went
back home discouraged.
“Jerry isn’t anywhere,” she announced to her mother. “What shall we do?”
“Perhaps he has gone on an errand for some one. He does that sometimes,
you know. We will have supper and save his.”
Jerry very often did turn an honest penny by running errands after
school hours, and his absence could easily be accounted for on that
score, but still Cassy was not satisfied. Somehow the recollection of
Billy’s teasing grin remained with her, and she ate her supper very
soberly.
“Mother,” she said after she had finished, “do you mind if I go around
to the garden and see if Jerry is there? I don’t feel very sure about
his going on an errand.”
Her mother smiled.
“Why, my dear, you are not worrying, are you? I think Jerry will be
here soon.”
“I know,—but—Billy Miles—I believe he knew where he was—and please,
mother——”
“Well dear, if you will hurry right back, you may go. It will soon be
dark, and I don’t want my little girl to be out in the streets so late.”
“I’ll come right back,” Cassy promised earnestly; “I will truly,
mother.”
“Very well, run along, though I cannot see why you think you will find
Jerry there.”
“Maybe Mr. McClure is working late; sometimes he does and Jerry may be
helping him.”
“Very well,” her mother repeated, “run along as fast as you can.”
Cassy caught up her hat and hurried off, not stopping to look at or
to speak to any one, and was around the corner in a jiffy, reaching
the old Dallas place in a very short time. First she stopped a moment
before the gate in the wall, thinking she might hear voices, but all
was silent.
“I can’t hear even the daffodils ringing their bells,” said the child
to herself as she ran around to the other side of the house. Just as
she was passing the front door some one called her.
“Miss Morning-Glory, oh, Miss Morning-Glory!” Looking up she saw Rock
Hardy standing on the steps. “Where are you going so fast, Cassy?” he
asked. “Did you want to see John? He went home an hour ago.”
“Oh, then, Jerry isn’t here,” Cassy exclaimed.
“No, I don’t think so, in fact I know he isn’t, for I have just come
from the garden and no one was there.”
Cassy’s face took on a troubled look, and Rock came down the steps
looking at her kindly.
“Is Jerry lost?” he asked, smiling. “It seems to me he is rather a big
boy to get lost. I reckon he’s man enough to know his way about town.”
“It isn’t that,” said Cassy, “but I’m afraid those boys—Billy Miles,
you know, and the rest—I’m afraid they’ve done something to him.”
“What makes you think so?” Rock came nearer. Cassy gave her reasons
and Rock listened attentively. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he said;
“I’ll go back with you and help you find him. We can stop and tell
your mother so she will not mind your being out. I don’t doubt but
that the boys only wanted to tease you, and that he really has gone on
an errand, but wherever he is we’ll find him.” He took Cassy’s hand
in his and she felt great relief of mind. To have such a big boy as
champion meant a great deal.
The two traveled along together, Rock looking around him interestedly
as they came nearer Cassy’s abode. He wondered why such a very nice
little girl should be living in such a dirty street, and he wondered
more as they mounted the steps and went from flight to flight.
“It’s at the very top,” Cassy told him, and finally her door was
reached and they went in. “This is Rock,” said Cassy to her mother,
“and he’s going to find Jerry.” She spoke with confidence.
Rock, seeing the sweet-faced woman who spoke with such a gentle voice,
did not wonder that Cassy seemed such a little lady. She looked like
her mother and had just such a way of speaking.
“I suppose Jerry hasn’t come yet,” said Rock.
“No,” Mrs. Law replied. “He has been gone a long time for him; he is
usually home to supper. I hope nothing has happened; that he——” she
looked at Cassy, “that he has not been run over or anything of that
kind,” she added, hesitatingly.
“Oh, I don’t believe that,” said Rock in an assured tone. “You know
they say ill news flies swiftly, so we’ll think he has gone off some
distance and has been detained. Cassy and I will find him. We will
inquire around, for some one has seen him go, no doubt.”
“I am very much obliged indeed,” Mrs. Law told him. “I shall feel quite
satisfied to have Cassy go if you are with her.” Therefore Rock and
Cassy took their departure.
Rock’s first move was to inquire of the big policeman at the corner if
he had seen Jerry Law since four o’clock. The policeman looked up and
down the street and then at Rock and Cassy.
“Jerry Law, is ut?” he asked. “A small-sized lad ut lives next dhoor
to that little haythin Billy Miles? I’ve not seen um. Howld on; I did
thin, airly in the afternoon. There was a crowd of bhoys out be Jimmy
McGee’s lumber yard, and I belave Jerry was with the lot.”
“Thank you,” said Rock. “You see he hasn’t come home yet, and his
sister is worried.”
“He’ll be afther shtayin’ out later whin he’s a bit owlder,” said the
policeman with a grin. “He’s not far off, I’m thinkin’. He’ll be
playin’ somewhere, you’ll find.”
The children had started off again when the policeman called them back.
“The bhoys were chasin’ a bit of a dog, I moind,” he told them.
“Oh!” exclaimed Cassy, “then Jerry must have tried to get it from them.
I know he wouldn’t let any one hurt it if he could help it. Nothing
makes him so mad as to see boys hurt poor little cats and dogs; he’ll
fight for them when he won’t for anything else.”
Towards the lumber yard they went, and there they stood calling “Jerry,
Jerry Law!” They walked along slowly, stopping every little while to
listen. At last when they had reached the end of the lumber yard they
heard an answer to their call.
“Listen! Listen!” cried Cassy joyfully. “Some one answered.”
“Call again,” said Rock. And Cassy shrilly screamed “Jerry! Jerry!”
“Here I am,” came the reply.
They looked around but could not seem to discover the spot from which
the answer came.
“Where are you?” called Rock.
“In the cellar,” was the reply.
“There, there, in that empty house!” Cassy dragged Rock along towards
the corner, and crouching down by a little window at the side of the
house, she said, “Are you in there, Jerry?”
For answer a face and form appeared at the window, and there was Jerry
sure enough.
A NEW ACQUAINTANCE