TELLS OF THE TENEMENT'S CHRISTMAS.
The Angel had but a week in which to prepare Christmas for the Tenement,
but with the help of her marshaled forces she did it. With such a
company of grateful assistants as her Father, her Mother, and the pretty
young Aunt or "Tante" as the Angel called her, all things seemed
possible.
A Christmas Tree it was decreed by her small ladyship her Tenement
should have, and Mrs. O'Malligan's first floor front, failing entirely
in height or breadth to accommodate it, Mr. Dilke came forward and
offered Miss Angelique the Armory in the name of the Fourth Regiment.
And such a Tree! How it towered to the oaken roof and lost itself among
the beams, and laden, festooned, and decorated, how proudly it spread
its great branches out to the balconies!
Mrs. O'Malligan, alone, of all the Tenement, was let into the secret,
and when it was finally disclosed, how the hearts of the favored
fluttered as the Angel delivered her invitations,--every lady, every
lady's husband, and every son and daughter of the Tenement being bidden
to come. Not to steal in at the back door, as if the Armory was ashamed
of its guests, but to walk proudly around the square and enter boldly in
at the front doors of the building. All of which tended to raise the
self-respect of the Tenement, whose spirits went up very high indeed.
And on that eventful Christmas Day, when the guests who were bidden had
arrived, it was discovered that the object most desired of each good
lady's heart, was to be found on, or around the base of that Tree.
Perhaps if Mrs. O'Malligan had explained the meanings of the many
mysterious conferences that had taken place lately in her first floor
front, the ladies might better have understood.
There was a pretty carpet, as well as lace curtains, long the desire of
little Mrs. Tomlins' ambition, the set of "chiny" dishes dear to another
good lady, a dress for this one, a bonnet, a nice rocking chair for
that,--with new hats, pipes and tobacco around for the men,--and in
addition for Mr. Tomlin, an entire suit of clothes and an overcoat, did
that wonderful Tree shed upon his proud shoulders.
Candy, nuts, and fruit were there in abundance, open to all, while the
children paused,--awed, under a deluge of toys such as their eyes had
never beheld the likeness of before.
Nor was this all,--for somewhere about that Tree, hung a document, which
being delivered, revealed to Miss Norma Bonkowski that she was now the
owner and proprietor of that same Costumer's establishment she had so
coveted,--while a most innocent and ordinary looking little book bearing
Mary Carew's name told the secret of a sum of money safely in bank, so
sufficient that never again need that grim phantom, the poor-house,
threaten to overshadow the end as it had the beginning of Mary's life.
As for Mrs. O'Malligan,--who had so successfully betrayed the secrets
of her neighbors, she was the most surprised of all to find her own
discovered. For, learning that the O'Malligans' savings toward "a house
of our own over th' river wid a goat an' a bit of a pig-sty," still
lacked a small sum of being sufficient, the Angel had accordingly
completed the amount.
And then the Tenement, weary with the accumulations of pleasure and
surprise, had taken itself home.
No one had been forgotten. Even the sixty little Kindergartens, through
the combined munificence of Mr. Dilke and the Angel, were, according to
the gloomy prophecies of 'Tildy Peggins as she waited upon them at the
feast, "a stuffed to their little stomicks' heverlastin' undoin'." And
Old G. A. R., from the depths of a new arm-chair, tried to solace his
lonely old heart with whiffs of fragrant tobacco from a wonderful new
pipe.
Neither was Joey forgotten in this time of rejoicing, for St. Luke's was
made glad that Christmas Day when the Fourth Regiment endowed a child
cot's "In memory of The Little Major."
Even Rosy O'Brien, whose one act of unfaithfulness had been so terribly
punished, was made happy by the news her little Angelique brought her,
that now since she was freed of her wearing secret, her health would
begin to return. And in time it did, and long after, when her tongue
could again frame its words, she dictated such a letter of contrition
and remorse to Mrs. Breaux, that that gentle heart's last feelings
against her were forgotten. In this letter, too, the poor girl related
the happenings of the afternoon when she left the Hotel.
Allured by the shop windows, she and her charge had stopped so often
that on reaching the river, they learned of the accident which had just
taken place in mid-river. At this, the girl had hurried back and crossed
by the bridge.
On reaching the Tenement finally, and finding her sister's door locked,
and beginning to feel anxious about returning, on the impulse of the
moment, that she might go down the faster, being breathless with the
climb up the steep and broken stairs, she set the tired and sleepy
child down on her shawl in the adjoining room, whose door stood open,
and hurried down to find Mrs. O'Malligan and beg a scrap of paper to
write a few lines to put under her sister's door.
Again Fate was against her. Mrs. O'Malligan's door was locked, and she
determined to run across to the corner grocery to beg a bit of paper and
pencil from Mr. Buckley's brother Bill who clerked there, and learn
something of the absent family. And here, while crossing the street in
nervous haste, she had been knocked down in a press of vehicles,--and so
the long chapter of strange accidents was set going.
* * * * *
A few days after Christmas the prima donna of The Garden Opera House was
found in her luxurious sitting-room, by her maid, face downward on the
couch,--in tears, the result of a state of mind, caused, as it proved,
by a visit from the little Angelique and her beautiful mother.
"How can I ever thank you for your generous impulse," Mrs. Breaux had
said, in impulsive, sweet fashion, taking the wayward, beautiful, young
creature's hand in hers, "or how can I ever be grateful enough to the
good God for surrounding my darling with such love and preserving her,
as He has done, from the evils of this terrible city," and she had cried
and trembled even then, with the child there against her knee, calling
and prattling to the green and yellow parrot on his gilded perch.
"If only some one could have understood all the poor child tried to
tell," said the prima donna, "but her dear, funny little lisp--"
"It is no wonder they could not," cried the mother in quick exoneration
of her child's Tenement friends, "her speech was a comical mixture of
her father's French, my English, and the nurse's Irish brogue,--even Mr.
Breaux gave up often in despair, and would turn for me to interpret."
It followed, then, that Angelique had been brought to tell the great
singer good-bye, and in speaking of her first meeting with her at the
Opera House, the prima donna referred to the child's wonderful grace,
her poise. "She has more than talent," the professional woman said,
"she has genius."
"It is a love of motion born in her," replied the mother, "my sisters
have it before her. Angelique danced actually before she could talk, and
my sister took her to dancing school and kindergarten when she was
little more than a baby, because it seemed such a pleasure to the
child."
And then it so happened the singer was led to speak of her own life, of
her wretched, motherless childhood, her poverty, the discovery of her
voice and her subsequent success.
"A success that sometimes seems but ashes in my mouth," she sobbed, as
the young mother gathered her in her arms and comforted her with words
which to her impulsive, untaught, undisciplined heart were as "apples of
gold," and which sank too deep to ever be forgotten. And it was
following this visit that her maid found her in tears.
* * * * *
Pretty Miss Stannard sighed, as with Mr. Dilke in attendance, she was
walking up from the station, having seen Angelique, her mother, father,
and Tante off for their southern home. "How nice," she sighed, "for them
to have been able to show their gratitude as they have; money can do
anything."
But Mr. Dilke, who, of late had had reason to question the desirability
of being a rich young man, since the conscientious and analytical young
person by his side had returned an unfavorable answer to a certain
matrimonial proposition on his part, alleging her inability to determine
how far her affections were biased by sordidness. So Mr. Dilke shook his
head and took a sidelong glance at his companion's pretty profile. "No,
money cannot," he returned promptly in refutation of her statement, "all
mine cannot give me the one thing that makes the rest seem worth while."
"Nor would you want that one thing if it could," returned Miss Stannard
quite as promptly, though what little of her profile Mr. Dilke could
catch sight of now, so attractive did something prove across the
way--grew a beautiful rosy red as she spoke,--"no, money could not give
you that. I've thought and thought until I am quite--convinced--of
that--though if you just could be poor,--real nice and poverty-stricken
long enough to test me,--I'd always feel safer--you know----"
And when, in time, a successor was found to supply Miss Stannard's place
at the Darcy Settlement's Free Kindergarten, it was to see the Angel in
her beautiful southern home that Mr. Van Alstine took his pretty, young
wife. And there, whom did they find,--her face all softened and
transfigured with happiness, tending her beloved charge with jealous
care--but Mary Carew!
THE END.
* * * * *
Sunbeam Stories and Others.
BY
ANNIE FLINT.
_With cover design by Dora Wheeler Keith, and seven full-page
illustrations by Dora Wheeler Keith, Meredith Nugent and Izora
C. Chandler._
_Square, 12mo. Cloth, $1.00._
------
"There is a touch of pure poetic fancy in each of the tales,
and the sunbeams here invested with life and tiny human forms,
are lovable and mirth-provoking imps.... The children, too, are
real children, and there is no mawkish sentimentality, but an
unforced, tender pathos in the story of little Tom Riley, who
was 'mos twelve,' but who had a heart big enough for a man, and
so skilfully is it told that a child may read and miss much of
the sadness of it. In and out and everywhere play the sunbeams,
as merry, mischievous and kindly a set of sprites as any in the
realms of fairyland."--_The Sun_, New York.
In these stories, the Sunbeams are made to talk and laugh and
play, just like children. They are delightful. Sometimes when
they are naughty, Father Sun shuts them up in a cloud all day,
where it is wet and rainy, and then they get good and promise
not to tease and be bad any more. And then he lets them out,
and they come down among the flowers and children and make
everything bright and happy. The fancy is pretty, and we are
sure the little children will thoroughly enjoy the little
Sunbeams. Pretty pictures and fine press-work and paper, make
it a beautiful book.--_Christian Observer_, Louisville, Ky.
"The stories are fascinating--rivalling the best works of
imagination. For purity and simplicity of style and diction,
they are classic."--LOCKE RICHARDSON.
------
BONNELL, SILVER & CO.,
PUBLISHERS,
24 West 22d Street, New York.
The Log of the Lady Gray.
BY
LOUISE SEYMOUR HOUGHTON.
_Cloth. Price 60 Cents._
------
The "ship's company" that embarked one May morning for a
holiday cruise on the "cat-boat" _Lady Gray_, consisted
according to "the log," of the skipper, two cabin-boys, one
ship's clerk, one small child, and two supernumeraries. The
ship's clerk, who kept "the log," was a young girl, the small
child was a much younger girl, and the supernumeraries were two
dolls, who came in for a fair share of adventure, although they
did not, like the others, suffer from "short commons," or join
in the welcome meal of "hoe cake and sorghum," with difficulty
obtained from the half famished "company." The story is one for
young people; it is pleasantly told, and will be appreciated,
especially by those who are interested in good books for
children.
The "Log of Lady Gray" is a bright little record of the cruise
of a party in a cat-boat with enigmas, riddles, and other
verbal amusements to give variety.--_Public Opinion._
The book abounds in fun and frolic, and suggestions of a sweet
and happy daily life.--_The Evangelist._
The book is full of sprightly good things.--_Herald and
Presbyter._
------
BONNELL, SILVER & CO.,
PUBLISHERS,
24 West 22d Street, New York.