RED-HAIRED JOHNNY.
JOHNNY was neither dirty nor ragged now. He had a new suit from top
to bottom. Bridget, Mrs. Marsh's girl, had given him a bath and then
burned his old clothes up. His pretty auburn hair was nicely parted and
curled in heavy locks close to his head. He said, "No, ma'am, I don't
want to go back ever." And then he burst out crying.
For a good while, he couldn't tell what was the matter, but at last he
said,—
"Oh if my father and mother knew how to work and make the house look
clean, and mend the fence, and buy beds, I should be so happy!"
Mrs. Marsh was very glad he felt so. She had taken one look into the
hovel and that was enough to enlighten her as to the cause of their
poverty. She told Johnny he must learn to write as fast as he could,
and then he might send a letter home, and tell his mother all that was
in his heart.
In a good many months, he wrote a letter, but it was of no use. Tom his
father was lazier than ever, and besides he had begun to spend what
little he earned on rum and bad whiskey.
Johnny grew very fast and worked so hard that the lady had to stop him.
Every body in his new home liked him, he was so good-natured and
industrious and cheerful. It was only when any one mentioned his
parents that he grew sad and began to cry.
Willie Irvington sat very quiet all this time, but now he began to grow
restless. And Arthur thought it time to draw his story to a close.
"And so Johnny went on growing good daily," he said smiling, "and
learning to read and write till he came to be a man; and every body
called him Sir, just as they do your father, you know."
"That's tip-top," exclaimed Willie, "now let's play again."
"I'm going to try to be just like him," added Arthur, his voice
expressing deep seriousness. "Every day I pray God to help me;
and mother used to say he likes to help boys do right and become
respectable men."
"Hollo! Here comes the postman!" shouted Willie. "Run and take the
letters."
At the end of the month, Mrs. Irvington introduced Matilda to the
asylum as the scene of her new duties. Her plans for Arthur were by
this time matured. He was to reside with an elderly couple where he
would be required to make a fire in the library, sift ashes, scour
knives and run errands, all of which services he could render out of
school hours: in return for which he was provided with a comfortable
home.
Arthur could scarcely realize his good fortune when told he was to
attend school.
"Oh," he exclaimed, clasping his hands, "how glad, how very glad I
am! Mrs. Irvington, if Joseph had been a good boy, and not told lies,
wouldn't you have let him go to school too?"
"I think it probable if he had shown a desire for learning, I should
have gratified him. Why do you ask?"
"Because I met him yesterday, and I knew you wouldn't like me to
associate with him, but I asked him to leave off begging, and I told
him how wicked it was to tell people his mother was blind when she's
only cross. I told him, if he'd try to be good, I'd ask you to let him
into your Sabbath school."
"What did Joseph say?"
"At first he only laughed and called me names. But when I told him if
he was a beggar now, and didn't try to be anything else, he'd be always
a beggar, he grew very angry, and tried to make me fight. So when I
found it was of no use, I came away; but I am so sorry he wont try. I
lie awake sometimes, and think how he called me, 'Arty! Arty!' through
the knot-hole, and I can't help crying, because if he hadn't called me,
perhaps I never should have seen you and Willie—and—and be here going
to school now and learning to work."
"You can pray for him, Arthur, and when you have an opportunity you can
do him a kindness. God is able to turn his heart. You understand the
reason I do not wish you to be in his company. He is a bad boy and, at
present does not seem to wish to be better. His associates are the very
vilest; and he prefers not to change them. A child who is well able to
work but chooses to beg his living from others, becomes every day more
mean and contemptible. But whenever you see an opportunity to do him
good, remember you have my best wishes for your success."
"He is good-natured, ma'am, and he used to be kind to me," urged Arthur
in a sad tone. "I always think he did not have a good mother as I did."