Tom, Peter, Mary, Patty, and the twins stayed at Five Oaks until the
first of September, then, plump, brown, and happy they returned to New
York. With them went several articles of use and beauty which had
hitherto belonged to Five Oaks. Mrs. Kendall, greatly relieved at
Margaret's somewhat surprising willingness to let the visitors go, had
finally consented to Margaret's proposition that the children be allowed
to select something they specially liked to take back with them. In
giving this consent, Mrs. Kendall had made only such reservation as
would insure that certain valuable (and not easily duplicated) treasures
of her own should remain undisturbed.
She smiled afterward at her fears. Tom selected an old bugle from the
attic, and Peter a scabbard that had lost its sword. Mary chose a string
of blue beads that Margaret sometimes wore, and Clarabella a pink sash
that she found in a trunk. Patty, before telling her choice, asked
timidly what would happen if it was "too big ter be tooked in yer
hands." Upon being assured that it would be sent, if it could not be
carried, she unhesitatingly chose the biggest easy-chair the house
afforded, with the announcement that it was "a Christmas present fur
Mis' Whalen."
For a moment Mrs. Kendall had felt tempted to remonstrate, and to ask
Patty if she realized just how a green satin-damask Turkish chair would
look in Mrs. Whalen's basement kitchen; but after one glance at Patty's
radiant face, she had changed her mind, and had merely said:
"Very well, dear. It shall be sent the day you go."
Arabella only, of all the six, delayed her choice until the final
minute. Even on that last morning she was hesitating between a marble
statuette and a harmonica. In the end she took neither, for she had
spied a huge chocolate-frosted cake that the cook had just made; and it
was that cake which finally went to the station carefully packed in a
pasteboard box and triumphantly borne in Arabella's arms.
Mrs. Kendall herself went to New York with the children, taking Margaret
with her. In the Grand Central Station she shuddered a little as she
passed a certain seat. Involuntarily she reached for her daughter's
hand.
"And was it here that I stayed and stayed that day long ago when you got
hurt and didn't come?" asked Margaret.
"Yes, dear--right here."
"Seems 'most as if I remembered," murmured the little girl, her eyes
fixed on one of the great doors across the room. "I stayed and stayed,
and you never came at all. And by and by I went out there to look for
you, and I walked and walked and walked. And I was so tired and hungry!"
"Yes, yes, dear, I know," faltered Mrs. Kendall, tightening her clasp on
the small fingers. "But we won't think of all that now, dear. It is past
and gone. Come, we're going to take Patty and the others home, you know,
then to-morrow we are going to see if we can't find a new home for
them."
"Divvy up!" cried Margaret, brightening. "We're goin' to divvy up!"
"Yes, dear."
"Oh!" breathed Margaret, ecstatically. "I like to divvy up!" And the
mother smiled content, for the last trace of gloomy brooding had fled
from her daughter's face, and left it glowing with the joy of a
care-free child.
Not two hours later a certain alley in the great city was thrown into
wild confusion. Out of every window leaned disheveled heads, and in
every doorway stood a peering, questioning throng. Down by the Whalens'
basement door, the crowd was almost impassable; and every inch of space
in the windows opposite was filled with gesticulating men, women, and
children.
Mag of the Alley had come back. And, as if that were not excitement
enough for once, with her had come Tom, Mary, Peter, Patty, and the
twins, to say nothing of the beautiful lady with the golden hair, and
the white wings on her hat.
"An' she's all dressed up fit ter kill--Maggie is," Katy Goldburg was
calling excitedly over her shoulder. Katy, and Tony Valerio had the
advantage over the others, for they were down on their knees before the
Whalens' window on a level with the sidewalk. The room inside was almost
in darkness, to be sure, for the crowd outside had obscured what little
daylight there was left, and there was only the sputtering kerosene lamp
on the table for illumination. Even this, however, sufficed to show Katy
and Tony wonders that unloosed their tongues and set them to giving
copious reports.
"She's got a white dress on, an' a hat with posies, an' shoes an'
stockings," enumerated Katy.
"An' de lady's got di'monds on her--I seen 'em sparkle," shouted Tony.
"An' de Whalen kids is all fixed up, too," he added. "An', say, dey've
bringed home stuff an' is showin' 'em. Gee! look at that sw-word!"
"An' thar's cake," gurgled Katy. "Tony, they're eatin' choc'late cake.
Say, I _am_ a-goin' in!"
There was a sudden commotion about the Whalens' door. An undersized
little body was worming its way through the crowd, and thrusting sharp
little elbows to the right and to the left. The next minute, Margaret
Kendall, standing near the Whalens' table, felt an imperative tug at her
sleeve.
"Hullo! Say, Mag, give us a bite; will ye?"
"Katy! Why, it's Katy Goldburg," cried Margaret in joyous recognition.
"Mother, here's Katy."
The first touch of Margaret's hand on Katy's shoulder swept like an
electric shock through the waiting throng around the door. It was the
signal for a general onslaught. In a moment the Whalen kitchen swarmed
with boys, girls, and women, all shouting, all talking at once, and all
struggling to reach the beautiful, blue-eyed, golden-haired little girl
they had known as "Mag of the Alley."
Step by step Margaret fell back until she was quite against the wall.
Her eyes grew wide and terror-filled, yet she made a brave attempt to
smile and to respond politely to the noisy greetings. Across the room
Mrs. Kendall struggled to reach her daughter's side, but the onrushing
tide of humanity flung her back and left her helpless and alone.
It was then that Mrs. Whalen's powerful fist and strident voice came to
the rescue. In three minutes the room was cleared, and Margaret was
sobbing in her mother's arms.
"You see, mother, you see how 'tis," she cried hysterically, as soon as
she could speak. "There's such lots and lots of them, and they're all so
poor. Did you see how ragged and bad their clothes were, and how they
grabbed for the cake? We've got to divvy up, mother, we've got to divvy
up!"
"Yes, dear, I know; and we will," soothed Mrs. Kendall, hurriedly.
"We'll begin right away to-morrow, darling. But now we'll go back to the
hotel and go to bed. My little girl is tired and needs rest."