WHEN Sam went to bed that night, he pulled his window-shades to the
very top of the window, that he might awake as early as possible.
This arrangement had the desired effect, for when Mary came in he had
examined all the presents that were in his Christmas stocking and was
nearly dressed besides.
“I will tell you why I am in such a hurry,” he said in answer to Mary’s
look of surprise. “I want to go over to see Billy the very first thing.”
“Oh, you must wait until after breakfast,” said Mary. “It is a very
cold morning, and Billy is probably abed and fast asleep yet.”
“Oh, no, he isn’t,” said Sam. “He’ll be sure to be up. So give me my
coat and cap, Mary, please.”
“Indeed, your grandmamma wouldn’t like to have you go out so early,”
said Mary, “and such a beautiful breakfast as Cook has got!”
“I don’t care about that, Mary,” replied Sam, decidedly. “I _must_ see
Billy the very first thing. I know the way very well.”
In vain Mary tried to persuade the little boy to wait until after
breakfast, but he was so persistent she knew he would go alone if she
refused to go with him; so she very reluctantly agreed to go. She dared
not disturb his grandparents at so early an hour, or she would have
appealed to them to decide the matter. So the two started out on their
expedition.
Sam had never been in the streets at so early an hour. The sun rises
late at this season of the year, and its bright rays were just
streaming over the tall house-tops as Sam and Mary sallied forth.
Most of the families in the neighborhood were still in bed, but the
houses were being put in order for the day. Front steps were being
swept down, front doors dusted, parlor shades drawn up, and sidewalks
cleaned. Colonies of sparrows perched among the trees and secreted in
the branches of the vines that grew against the houses, had not yet
finished their morning hymns, and their joyous twittering was heard on
every side.
The air was so cold that Mary made her little charge walk briskly, and
by the time they reached Mrs. Hanlon’s house his cheeks were glowing.
They found Billy dressed and holding the engine in his lap. Sam gave
a keen glance at the little blind boy, who sat passing his hands
caressingly over the beautiful toy, but his eyes were not bent upon
it,—they were fixed straight before him in the same old way.
“Billy,” cried Sam earnestly, as he watched the blind boy’s patient
face, “can you see it with your eyes?”
“No,” replied Billy, cheerfully, “but I know just how it looks because
I can feel it, you know.”
“Can’t you really see the pretty red wheels and the shining brass and
everything?” said Sam, very earnestly. “Try real hard, Billy, and
perhaps you can.”
“No,” said Billy, gently, “but you can tell me all about it, and we can
play with it all the same.”
A great change came over Sam. The bright color left his cheeks, and his
lips began to quiver. Kindly Mrs. Hanlon knew what was going on in the
little boy’s mind, and she tried to take him in her motherly arms to
comfort him; but he broke away from her and ran downstairs and out of
the door. Mary followed him, but she found it hard to keep pace with
him as he rushed at full speed along the streets. He paid no heed to
her entreaties to stop, and arrived breathless at his grandpapa’s house.
Mrs. Ledwell, who was about to go down to breakfast, was startled to
see her little grandson appear in such a breathless and excited state.
“Grandmamma,” he exclaimed, “I am never going to pray to God again as
long as I live!”
“Why, Sam!” exclaimed his astonished grandmother, “what do you mean?”
“Billy can’t see,” he answered, “and here I have been praying and
praying for all this time; and Mary says there is a pony dog-cart for
me in the stable, and I didn’t want it! I just wanted to have Billy
see!” and Sam threw himself upon the lounge and burst into a violent
fit of sobbing.
Mrs. Ledwell hardly knew what to do, but she did the best thing she
could possibly have done. She let the little boy expend the violence of
his grief, and then she seated herself by him and gently stroked the
hair back from his hot forehead. When the weeping grew less violent and
she knew the little boy could listen, she said,—
“You must remember, Sam, that there are a great many little boys and
girls all over the world asking God for different things, and he can’t
answer all at once. It takes a long time, you know, so you must be
patient and wait a little longer.”
“But I didn’t ask for anything else,” sobbed Sam, “and he has gone and
sent me the dog-cart, after all; and I was _very particular_ to say
that I didn’t want it.”
“By next summer, Sam, I am quite sure that Billy can see, and think
what fine drives you and he can have together!”
“Summer is a long way off,” replied Sam, “and I _did_ so want Billy to
see _now_!”
“We can’t have things come about just as we want them, my dear little
boy,” said Grandmamma.
“I sha’n’t pray any more, just the same,” said Sam, decidedly.
“Billy is in a comfortable home and has found kind friends, and
Grandpapa will soon find out where his mother is; and then by and by
Billy will see, and then how happy he will be! There are a great many
little boys worse off than Billy is, so if I were you I would try to be
patient.”
Sam was silent for a while, and his grandmother knew that he was
thinking the matter over in his sensible mind.
“I suppose there must be an awful lot of boys and girls asking God for
all sorts of things,” he said.
“Indeed, there are,” said Grandmamma, “and just think how much happier
Billy is than he was when you first saw him!”
“Well,” said Sam in his old decided manner, “I guess I had better keep
on praying a little while longer.”
“I think so, too, dear,” replied Grandmamma; “and now we’ll go down
to breakfast and be as cheerful as we can, because if we look unhappy
we shall make everybody about us so, and we want all to have a very
pleasant Christmas.”
So Sam, like the sensible, conscientious little fellow he was, wiped
his eyes very carefully with his pocket-handkerchief and assumed a
cheerful smile,—very much the kind of expression, his grandmother
thought, that people have when they are sitting for a photograph and
the artist tells them to “look pleasant.” It was rather a forced smile,
to be sure, but before breakfast was half over, Grandpapa, under
whose genial influence nobody could be long unhappy, had brought real
smiles back to the little boy’s face, and they were laughing and joking
together as if there were no such things as unhappiness and suffering
in all the world.
“Now I will tell you my plan,” said Grandmamma, “and you can see how
you like it. I shall be busy this morning, for I must call on my old
ladies at the Home and see if they are having a happy Christmas, but
I propose that you two take a nice sleigh-ride and invite Billy to go
with you. Then you can bring him home for lunch, and in the afternoon
a few boys and girls are coming, and you can play games together. How
does my plan strike you?”
“It strikes me very pleasantly,” replied Grandpapa, “and will suit me
exactly, for I have to see a man who lives out of town and shall be
glad of the company of the youngsters. What do you say, Sam?”
“I think it will be very nice,” replied Sam, “and I guess Billy will
think so too.”
“Suppose we stop at the ‘Animal Rescue League’ and see how our little
dog is getting on,” said Grandpapa.
“Can’t we take some cakes to him?” asked Sam. “I don’t believe he knows
it is Christmas.”
“Yes, we will take cakes enough to go all around,” said Grandpapa.
A little later, Sam and his grandpapa, with a box full of cookies and
sweet biscuits, called for Billy. The little blind boy was delighted
at the prospect of such a happy day, and he beamed with smiles as his
faithful friend Sam led him carefully down the steps to the sleigh,
while Mrs. Hanlon, looking just as happy, watched them from the door.
“What have you in that package that you take such care of?” asked Mr.
Ledwell, who observed that the little boy carried a package in one hand.
“It is a Christmas present for Jack,” replied Billy.
“Why, Grandpapa, we forgot all about him!” exclaimed Sam. “Isn’t it too
bad?”
“We have cakes enough to spare him a few,” replied Grandpapa.
“Of course, I couldn’t forget about Jack,” said Billy, “because he
saved my life, you know.”
“The dear little soul has been worrying about what to give Jack for
a Christmas present,” said Mrs. Hanlon. “He has saved up some of the
money you gave him for presents, and I told him I thought Jack would
appreciate some nice bones more than anything else. So what does he do
but ask the butcher to sell him some of the very nicest bones he had,
with plenty of meat on them.”
“And what do you think, Sam? When I told him they were for Jack, he
wouldn’t take any money for them! He said he should like to give
something towards a present for the Fire-Dog, because he is such a nice
dog.”
“You see,” said Billy confidentially to Sam, as they drove to the
engine-house, “I can make a present to Mrs. Hanlon now, because the
butcher wouldn’t let me pay for Jack’s present. Do you suppose she
would mind if it doesn’t come just exactly at Christmas?”
“I don’t believe she would mind _very much_,” replied Sam, who
remembered that the Christmas present he so much wanted did not come on
time.
“Will you go with me some day and buy something for her, Sam?”
“Yes,” replied Sam, “and we will pick out something real nice!”
The Fire-Dog was at home and rejoiced to see them, especially the
little blind boy whose life he had saved. He was much gratified too,
at the present Billy brought him. One large bone was given him, which
he at once took in his mouth and walked off with to eat by himself,
a proud and happy dog. The rest of the package was left in Reordan’s
charge to be given according to his judgment, and a dessert from Sam’s
box of cakes was added.
There was not time to stop and watch Jack enjoy his repast, as the
boys would have liked to do, so they had to leave before he was half
through. Jack was very hungry, but he was such a polite dog that he
never forgot his good manners, and whenever the boys spoke to him,
wagged his tail and smiled, to let them know how much he appreciated
the attention.
“You ought to see how he enjoys that bone, Billy,” said Sam, as they
drove off; and Billy looked just as happy as if he had seen it.
Such a barking as greeted them when they entered the building of the
Animal Rescue League! All the dogs who were around came running to see
who it was and to find out if another stray dog had been brought in;
and among them, barking his loudest, was little Toby, as happy and as
much at home as any of them. He recognized his old friends at once, and
tried by every means a dog knows, to express his gratitude.
“They act as if they know it is Christmas,” said Sam.
“So they do,” said the man who had charge of them, “and they are
going to have a Christmas-tree just like folks. They do seem to know
something is up, they and the cats too. The cats are going around with
their tails straight up in the air, and they play with one another just
as if they had lost their senses.”
“This little boy has brought some cakes for the dogs,” said Mr.
Ledwell; and Sam presented his box.
“They will come in very handy when they have the tree,” replied the man.
Then the visitors were taken over the building and shown all the
inmates, even to some big dogs out in the yard. All looked happy and
contented, and showed the best of care. Some kittens especially took
the children’s fancy, and Sam explained to Billy how they looked when
they were playing. One was lying on his back, kicking, clawing and
biting a worsted ball he had to play with, and another was running
sideways with his back arched and his tail fluffed out, as if he were
dreadfully frightened at something; while another had pounced upon one
of them and made believe he was going to eat him up. The mother of this
lively family was pretending to take a nap, but her half-opened eyes
and fond and happy purring showed that she was enjoying the romps of
her darlings as much as they did themselves.
It was hard for the children to leave this entertaining place, and
especially hard to resist the affectionate entreaties of the dogs, who
were delighted to see visitors. They had to go, however, for a long
drive out of town was before them, and they departed after a while, all
the dogs who could reach the windows barking a joyous farewell as they
drove off.