BILLY’S mother was now so well that she was eager to begin work. “You
have done so much for us,” she said to Mr. Ledwell, “that I cannot
accept any more.”
“Have you thought of anything special to do?” asked Mr. Ledwell.
“I have thought a great deal about it,” she replied, “and I should be
glad of any work that will support us. Since I have been so long idle
I have realized, as I never did before, the fact that there are many
children thrown upon the charity of the world as my boy was, but very
few fall into such kind hands as he did. There are institutions to care
for just such children, and if I could get a situation in one of them
I should put my whole heart into the work, remembering the helpless
position my boy was in. In caring for other forsaken children I would
work off some of the deep sense of gratitude I feel.”
“It is a good scheme,” replied Mr. Ledwell, “and we will try to find
a place for you. Feeling as you do, you are just the one to look
after the poor little waifs. It takes time, though, to obtain such a
position, and meantime I can give you employment in my business.”
So Billy’s mother began work at once, and at the end of the first week
was able to hand to Mrs. Hanlon a sum for her own and Billy’s board.
Billy gained in strength and health every day, and soon was able to lay
aside the blue spectacles.
“I should think you would have your hair cut just as short as it can
be,” Sam one day suggested to his friend. “You see, it curls so that
the fellows think it makes you look like a girl.”
So Billy gave his mother no peace until his hair was cut so short that
there was no chance for it to form the curly rings to which the other
boys so much objected, and Sam pronounced it a great improvement.
With the short hair Billy also acquired an air of confidence which made
him look more like other boys, and he was no longer singled out as a
butt for their rough jokes. He learned very fast, and his love for
drawing helped to make him popular; for on stormy days, when the boys
could not go out at recess, it was a great pleasure to have Billy draw
pictures for them. His greatest pleasure was to draw on the blackboard,
and his sketches, done with a bold, free hand, often gave as much
pleasure to the teacher as they did to the pupils.
Before long came the time for Sam to go with his grandparents to
their country home. Such good friends had the two boys become, that a
separation would have been very hard for both. They were so unlike that
each had a good influence on the other. Sam, full of spirit and health,
would much rather spend his time out of doors than in learning his
lessons, while Billy liked nothing better than to sit indoors, working
hard at his drawing, or conscientiously studying his lessons, that he
might keep up with the other children who had not been deprived of the
use of their eyes.
Mr. Ledwell, who looked out so well for every one, proposed to Billy’s
mother that she should live in a little house on his grounds that had
been built for his gardener’s family. The present gardener, however,
had no family, and lived with the other men employed on the place, and
the house would make a cosey, comfortable home for Billy and his mother.
The latter by this time had obtained the situation she so much
desired,—which was to look after homeless children. Her duty was to
take these little waifs to homes that were willing to receive them,
and to see that the little ones were happy and well cared for after
being placed. This, of course, took her away from home all through the
day, and she often returned tired from her day’s work. Giving so much
motherly care to the neglected ones, who needed it so sadly, prevented
her from giving her own boy the care he ought to have, and a pleasant
way out of the difficulty was found by having good Mrs. Hanlon come
down to the little cottage and take care of it and of Billy. In this
way Billy was not neglected, and his mother could earn money for their
support.
It was a happy day for the two boys when they alighted at the little
station of Seaport. It was quite a distance to Sam’s grandpapa’s place,
so they drove there in one of the station carriages. Billy noticed how
glad all were to see Sam. Everybody seemed to know him, and to have
a pleasant word for him, from the station master down to the colored
porter. Sam was just as glad to see them, too, and asked after their
families and how they had been through the long, cold winter.
It made Billy very happy to see how much everybody loved Sam, and for
every kind word and look given to his friend he was more gratified
than if he had received them himself. The grateful boy never forgot for
a moment how kindly and generously his friend had received him when he
was blind and forsaken.
As they passed the different houses in the village, Sam was kept busy
in hailing old acquaintances and hearing their cordial “Glad to see you
back again.”
They passed the engine-house, and there on the sidewalk in front of it
lay Jack the Fire-Dog. Although he had never _seen_ him before, Billy
knew him even before Sam’s keen eyes discovered him. At the boys’
call the dog pricked up his ears and gazed searchingly at them; then,
with all the power of his eloquent eyes and wagging tail, he tried to
express his joy at meeting these old friends.
Of course the boys couldn’t go by without stopping for a moment,—no
human boys could do that. So out they piled in a hurry, and before
the carriage had come to a stop they were hugging and caressing their
faithful friend. “Does he look anything as you thought he did, Billy?”
asked Sam.
“Yes, just, only a great deal handsomer. Do you suppose he knows I am a
seeing boy now, Sam?” asked Billy, anxiously.
“I shouldn’t wonder if he did, because I saw him looking at your eyes
awful sharp the first thing.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if he did, either,” said one of the firemen who had
witnessed the meeting between the old friends. “He’s awfully knowing.”
They could not stop so long as they would have liked, however, because
the driver of the station carriage was in a hurry to get back; so they
had to leave the Fire-Dog. “You shall come to see us every day,” Sam
called out, as the carriage started again, for the dog’s wistful eyes
said how sorry he was to have them go; and the Fire-Dog did not wait
for a second invitation, but presented himself about five minutes after
the boys had reached home.
“First of all, I must take you about to show you everything on the
place,” Sam said to Billy. So off they started, the boys followed
closely by Jack, who seemed much older than he had in the days when he
used to run with Engine 33.
First of all, there were the stables to be visited, where in a paddock
was the black pony with the star on his forehead. He came trotting up
to the fence to see the boys and rub his nose against them and beg for
sugar. They had no sugar to give him, but a few handfuls of grass did
just as well. After he found they had no more for him, he lay down and
rolled over; then, after shaking himself, he came for more grass.
These stables were wonderful places, and had in them everything that
boys, and most girls, love. There was a new colt only a few weeks old,
but as tall as the black pony with the star in his forehead, although
his legs were longer and not so prettily formed, and he had a short,
bushy tail. Clumsy as he looked, however, he could run fast, for, after
looking anxiously at the boys for an instant with his large, mild
eyes, he darted off at full speed to join his mother at the other end
of the field.
There was a litter of pups belonging to one of the grooms, young
bull-terrier pups, with little fat, round bodies and very blunt, pink
noses; and the mother dog evidently thought amiable Jack a fierce
ogre, who wanted to eat them up, for she flew at him with great fury
when he only wanted to admire them. So she had to be shut up in the
harness-room, where she tore at the door and growled and barked so long
as the boys and Jack stayed near her pups.
There were two little kittens, too, and they also seemed to consider
innocent Jack a dangerous sort of fellow, for they arched their backs
and spit at him whenever he happened to look their way.
When the stables had been explored, the two boys and Jack ran down to
the beach. The tide was out, and they could walk far out on the smooth
sand. This was very beautiful, but Sam’s favorite nook was the little
cove where the fiddler-crabs lived. He was never tired of watching them
at low tide, and trying to find out whether each had his own particular
hole to hide in, or whether they darted into the first one they came to
when surprised.
The two boys each singled out a crab and tried to keep his eyes on him
to watch his movements, but they all looked so much alike that it was
very confusing, and after an hour spent in this way Sam was no wiser
than he was before.
Then the shells that had been washed up in the hard storms of the
winter before, how beautiful they were, and how exciting it was to pick
them out of the line of seaweed in which they were entangled! Billy had
never dreamed of such pleasures, and they were as good as new to Sam,
now that he had a companion to enjoy them with him. Thus the two happy
boys spent the forenoon, while Jack wandered about the beach, sniffing
into holes and examining the skeletons of the horse-shoes and crabs
that had been thrown up by the winter storms. They found many delicate
skeletons of baby horse-shoes, some not much larger than a silver
quarter of a dollar, and perfect in shape.
“We must make a collection of curiosities,” Billy said,—“shells and
horse-shoes and all such things.”
“I can show you where there are beautiful stones,” said Sam. “I have
got a little bookcase where we can keep them, and we can label them
just as they do in the Museum.”
As Sam spoke, the clear notes of a horn were heard from the direction
of the house. “That’s for me,” said Sam. “They always blow that horn
when they want me, and I guess it’s about time for lunch.”
So the two boys went toward the house, carrying as many of their
“curiosities” as they could take, and Jack followed.
The fresh sea air had sharpened the appetites of the boys, and of Jack,
too, but they spent as little time at the table as possible, they were
in such a hurry to go back to their play on the beach.
In these pleasures the days passed so rapidly that Sam’s birthday came
around before he had thought it was anywhere near the time for it. Jack
appeared every day with great regularity, and never let them out of
his sight. Even while they were eating their meals, he lay under the
dining-room windows, in order that he might be on hand if they required
his services.
“What should you like to do to celebrate your birthday, Sam?” asked his
grandpapa one morning at the breakfast table.
“I know what I should _like_ to do,” replied Sam, who usually knew just
what he wanted, “but I don’t suppose there is any chance of my doing
it.”
“What is it, Sam?”
“Well, you know those children who were so good to Billy? The ones you
gave the cakes to, you know. Billy and I have been thinking how much
they would like to be here and run on the beach and see the colt and
the puppies. Billy said if he had lots of money he would just send for
them to come here and have a good time. It is awfully hot in that part
of the city where they live, Billy says, and it smells awfully bad,
too.”
“I know it does, Sam,” replied Grandpapa, very seriously, “and I wish
we could take all the children out of the hot city and let them run
about in the fields and on the beach as you and Billy do.”
“I _knew_ it couldn’t be done,” said Sam with a sigh.
“We can’t take care of _all_ the children in the city, Sam,” replied
Grandpapa, “but I think we can manage to give these three a taste of
the country.”
“Oh, Grandpapa!” exclaimed Sam, and he was so overcome with joy at
the prospect that he couldn’t find words to say how happy he was. His
grandmother was very particular about his table manners, so he said,
“Please excuse me a minute, Grandmamma,” and, jumping down from his
chair, ran up to his grandfather and put his arms about him and hugged
him until his face was quite red from the effort. “I think you are the
very kindest man I ever saw, Grandpapa,” he said.