THE LETTER FROM FRANCE.
Leo conducted his team to Pemberton Square, and knocked at the back
door of the rich man's house. One of the kitchen girls answered the
summons, and great was her surprise when she saw the palace of the
mice. It was taken into the kitchen, and Mrs. Checkynshaw was called.
She came down, accompanied by Miss Elinora. Leo explained that the
banker had purchased the establishment, and that he had been directed
to deliver it.
Elinora, though she had sat up late the night before at the party, and
had been very ill-natured all day, was surprised into a smile of
pleasure when she saw the cunning little creatures in their curious
house. Leo gave them some canary seed, of which he carried a supply in
his pocket, in order to induce the pets to exhibit themselves when
desired. They had behaved very well thus far, and had produced a
favorable impression upon all who had seen them.
Elinora was pleased with the mice because they promised to afford her a
new sensation.
"I think I'll have them in my chamber, mother, where I can see them,"
said she, after she had looked at them a while.
"I wouldn't have them in my chamber, miss," replied Leo.
"Why, not?"
"They sleep in the daytime, and train in the night. They would rattle
about the house so that you could not sleep."
"I will have them in my dressing-room, then," added she.
"That's not exactly the place for them," continued Leo, who had not a
very clear idea of what the dressing-room was.
"Where would you keep them, then?" asked Elinora, petulantly.
"In the kitchen, or the back room."
"What, keep such a pretty cage as that in the kitchen?" exclaimed the
rich man's daughter.
"You can see it just as well in the kitchen as in the parlor, and it is
just as handsome in one place as another, miss. White mice are pretty
little creatures, miss; but, like rabbits, squirrels, and other
animals, they have an odor of their own which isn't pleasant,
especially when they are shut up in a warm room," Leo explained, with a
smile to soften the disparaging remark, for he didn't like to say
anything against the pets.
"I don't want them, then," said Elinora, turning up her delicate nose.
"They won't trouble you if you have them well cared for, and keep them
in a proper place. A horse is a very fine animal; but you would not
find him agreeable in the parlor," added Leo. "There's a nice place for
them;" and he pointed to the washroom, through which he had entered the
kitchen. "You can come down and see them when you wish, and they won't
trouble any one out there."
Mrs. Checkynshaw decided to have the house put up in the wash-room, as
Leo suggested, and the young mechanic volunteered to do the work. He
had brought with him a couple of wooden brackets and some screws, and,
with the assistance of Tom Casey, he put them up, and placed the palace
upon them. Mrs. Checkynshaw and her daughter watched the operation with
interest, and asked a great many questions about the mice and their
habits. Leo talked and worked, and by the time he had finished the job,
he had explained all he knew of the little animals. He told the kitchen
girl, who was to take care of them, how to feed them, and how to clean
out the cage, admonishing her to do the latter every day.
The lady of the house was so well pleased with the zeal and pains
displayed by the young mechanic, that she gave him half a dollar for
the extra labor he had performed; and Leo and Tom left the house.
"It's a good job you've done the day," said Tom, as they walked down
the square.
"I've done first rate, Tom. I've sold my work for a fair price, and got
two more jobs. I'm lucky, and I'm very grateful, too, for my good
fortune. Tom, I'll give you the half dollar the lady handed to me for
your share of the work."
"Go way wid you! I won't take it!" protested the Irish boy.
"Yes, you must, Tom. You have helped me. I don't know how I should have
got along without you."
"Niver you mind that. Your ould man is sick, and it's great need you'll
have of all the money you can lay your hands on."
"But I have made six dollars besides this, and I'm not going to pocket
all the plunder. Take this, and buy some book you need."
Tom was finally prevailed upon to accept the half dollar, though he did
so under protest. Leo was happy--never so happy before in his life.
Success had crowned his darling scheme, and he entered the house with a
radiant smile upon his face. But, in the midst of his exultant joy, he
did not forget that his father, for whose sake he had been stimulated
to make this mighty effort, was very sick. As softly as a cat he opened
the front door, and carried his wagon down cellar. He was disposed to
go to work at once at his bench, and make the two palaces which had
been ordered; but he could not resist the temptation to go up and tell
Maggie what a splendid success he had realized.
"How is father?" he asked, in a whisper, as he entered the rear room,
where Maggie was at work.
"He is about the same. He sleeps a great deal, and I hope he will soon
be better," she replied. "So you have sold your mouse-house, Leo," she
added, with a sympathizing smile.
"Who told you I had?" asked Leo, rather provoked that any one had
robbed him of the pleasure of telling the triumphant news himself.
"Mr. Checkynshaw has been here," said she, laughing.
"Did he tell you how much he gave for the mouse-house?"
"Six dollars; and he said you had orders for two more at the same
price. How lucky you are, Leo!"
"So I am; but I was almost discouraged before I found a single
purchaser. If it hadn't been make or break with me, I should have given
up, and come home. I feel good now, Maggie, I can tell you! If the
market for white mice holds good, I shall make my fortune."
"I hope it will hold good, at least till father gets well. He was so
delighted when he heard of your success!"
"I shall finish the two houses ordered this week, if I can, and that
will make eighteen dollars--not in a week, but in three days."
"Twenty, Leo," added Maggie, with a smile.
"Twenty? Three times six are eighteen," laughed Leo.
"I made two dollars to-day by translating a letter for Mr. Checkynshaw;
and he has more such work for me to do."
"How lucky we are!" exclaimed Leo; and he had not lived long enough, or
seen enough of the world, to realize that the lucky ones are almost
always those who are industrious and energetic--a lesson he was to
learn in due time.
Leo went in to see Andre; and the barber declared, that with two such
children as he had, he could afford to be sick, and that a terribly
heavy load had been removed from his mind.
"The good God is kind to me," said he, reverently raising his eyes. "My
children are taking care of me while I am helpless, as I took care of
them when they were helpless."
Andre was patient and submissive--not as a philosopher, but as a
Christian. The great calamity of want had apparently been turned from
his door, and he was happy--happy in his heart, even while his frame
was suffering. Blessed are they in whom Christian faith and hope have
found a resting-place! In his care for these two children, Andre had
long before been led to place his trust in things higher than earth,
and in striving to guide them in the right path, he had found it
himself.
Leo remained but a few moments in the sick room, and then hastened down
to the workshop to commence the jobs for which he had contracted.
Laying aside the four houses in which he had made some progress, he
proceeded to "get out" the lumber for the others. On a paper, stuck up
under the window, was the plan of the establishment he had sold to the
banker, with all the dimensions written upon it. Under the bench he had
several hundred feet of half-inch pine boards, which he had purchased
with money earned by shovelling off sidewalks.
As the plan was already drawn, and he knew exactly how all the parts
were to be put together, there was no delay in the work. He had sawed
out all the lumber required for the two houses, and had nicely planed
the boards, when Maggie called him to supper. He had worked very hard,
but he did not feel tired. He was never weary of mechanical employment
like this, even when doing it with no distinct end in view; but now
that he was to keep the wolf from the door, there was an inspiration in
the work which lifted him above bodily fatigue.
He went to his supper with a keen appetite; but he did not like to
spare the time to eat it, and it seemed like a hardship to be compelled
to leave the workshop. When he had finished his supper, and was
hurrying down stairs, there was a knock at the front door. He hoped it
was a customer come to order a mouse-house; but he was disappointed,
when he went to the door, to find only Fitz Wittleworth there.
"Good evening, Leo. Is your sister at home?" asked Fitz, in his usual
patronizing tones.
"She is," replied Leo, rather coldly, for he could not see what Fitz
wanted with his sister.
"I should like to see her," added Fitz, loftily, as though his presence
at the house of the barber was a condescension which Leo ought to
appreciate.
"My father is sick, and Maggie is busy taking care of him," replied
Leo, who felt that he was now the guardian of his sister, and he did
not want any young men "hanging round," especially such young men as
Mr. Wittleworth.
"I wish to see her on business," persisted Fitz, annoyed at Leo's
answers, and the evident want of appreciation of the honor of his visit
which the young mechanic exhibited.
"I'll speak to her. Won't you come in?"
Fitz would come in, and he did. He was shown to the rear room, where
Maggie was clearing off the supper table. Fitz was a young "man of the
world," and as imitative as a monkey. He had once moved in what he
called "good society," and was familiar with all the little courtesies
of life. He expressed his regret at the illness of Andre in the most
courtly terms, and his sympathy with Maggie. Leo wanted to go to work,
but he felt obliged to remain, and witness the interview.
"You will excuse me for calling at such a time; but I will not detain
you long, Miss Maggimore. I understand that you are a French scholar.
Am I rightly informed?"
"Yes, sir, I speak French," replied Maggie, beginning to expect another
job in translating.
"And I suppose you read French."
"Yes, sir."
"I have really forgotten all the French I ever knew," continued Mr.
Wittleworth, apologetically; and one would have supposed, from his
manner, that the French language was the only thing in the world he did
not know, and that it was intensely humiliating to acknowledge that he
did not know that. "I have a letter from France, written in French,
which it is of the utmost importance that I should read. I have taken
the liberty to call upon you to beg the favor of a translation of the
letter."
Mr. Wittleworth took from his pocket the letter which the banker had
given to his mother.
"I shall be very happy to assist you," added Maggie, kindly.
"Thank you, Miss Maggimore. If you will give me the English of the
letter, I will write down the important part of it," continued Fitz,
taking a pencil and paper from his pocket, seating himself at the
table, and handing her the letter.
"It is postmarked Paris," said she, glancing at the envelope.
"So I observed."
"Why, this is the very letter I translated into French for Mr.
Checkynshaw to-day!" exclaimed Maggie, innocently, as she took the
paper from the envelope.
"Ah, indeed!" replied Fitz, thoroughly illuminated by this flood of
light.
Maggie's fair face was instantly covered with blushes. She was
confident, a moment too late, that she had exposed some of Mr.
Checkynshaw's business.
"You translated this letter into French for Mr. Checkynshaw--did you?"
asked Fitz, taking the letter from her, and folding up his paper, as he
rose from his chair.
"I did," replied Maggie; for now that the mischief, whatever it was,
had been done, she could only tremble for the consequences.
"If you did, I needn't trouble you to translate it back again," added
Fitz, as he took his hat and left the house very abruptly.