MISS WHITE’S STORY
The story, as Miss White told it, was not unusual in that part of the
city, but to John Dean there was every element of newness in it.
He listened without interruption as the story unfolded itself.
Mrs. Marsh, Ted’s mother, had had a hard time of it. Bill Marsh had
married her eighteen years ago. Bill was a good mechanic, but after
about six years of happiness things began to go wrong. He lost his
position and at that time work was not easy to get. Day after day he
had searched for something to do. Discouraged, he had taken to drink.
Then there was a day when Bill did not return. In all these years Mrs.
Marsh had never heard of him. She felt he was dead, yet even that she
did not know.
It was a hard struggle afterward. Sewing and washing, early and late,
and many a day she went hungry, so that the two children could eat.
The mother often spoke of how Ted, when eight years old, had gone out
one afternoon and had not returned until seven o’clock. Without a word
he had put fifteen cents on the table and then had turned to eat. He
showed by the way he ate how hungry he was. After the meal was over, he
explained how he had made up his mind to support the family, and so he
had bought some papers; the fifteen cents was profit. His capital, also
some extra pennies, was intact, so that he could buy more papers.
“I’m going to support this family,” Ted had said, “I’m the man and it’s
up to me.”
That was the beginning of Ted as a newsboy. He was very proud of his
newsboy badge, and gradually, as he grew older, his help was quite a
big share of the family expense, it counted against the family burden.
When Ted was almost eleven, he had joined the Settlement. Miss Wells,
who grew to know the boy, his fine qualities, his independence and
manliness had had a wonderful influence upon him. But there was also
in Ted that mischievous streak, that spirit of fun, and even of
trouble-making that every healthy, normal boy has.
It was through one of these mischievous pranks that Miss Wells had
first met Ted. One day the boys had shut themselves in a room, six
or seven of them, and bolted the door. When Mr. Jones, who was the
Settlement Boys’ Worker, had asked them to come out, none of them
wanted to show the white feather, and so they had not answered him,
but had continued to stay in there. Mr. Jones locked the door with a
key and left them, expecting that very soon they would call out, send
an S. O. S., and beg to be let out. But there was no call, and after a
half hour or so he had gone back to the door. It was very quiet within,
unusually so. He managed to open the door after quite a lot of work.
The room was empty.
There was only one other way out, through the window. It was a sheer
drop of twenty or more feet, so to escape from there seemed out of the
question. The last boy dropping out of the window could not, of course,
stop to close it, and the fact remained that the window was closed.
Could they have come out through the door? He was sure they had not
done so, as he had been very near the room all of the time. Then, too,
it was hardly likely that any of the boys would have had a key to fit
the rather unusual lock.
Cautious was Mr. Jones. These observations had to be made without
creating any suspicion in any of the other watching, grinning boys
all about. He did not wish them to know that things were not as they
should be and that he was at sea as to how they had made their escape.
Pretty soon the boys who had been in that room, one after another, came
into the building. They were all so innocent looking, butter would not
have melted in the mouths of any of them. They never did tell him, but
they did tell Miss Wells and the rest of the workers, how Ted would
not let them open the door and had refused to let them call Mr. Jones
when the door had been locked a half hour. How he had called for help
to some older boys who had been passing in the street below. They were
not members of the Settlement and were ready for any mischief. They
had obtained a ladder that Ted told them was lying on the ground near
a close-by fence. He had been the last to leave on that ladder, which
almost touched the window-sill, and he had carefully closed the window
after him. He warned them not to tell Mr. Jones, but it was too good a
joke not to tell others.
It was after this that Miss Wells had spoken to Ted and had realized
how much fineness there was in the boy, in spite of his mischievous,
fun-loving disposition. There were other times Ted had been caught in
mischief, but there never had been any suspicion of meanness in any
of the escapades. He was honest, you felt that, and he looked at you
fearlessly, truthfully. He learned to love Miss Wells; she could do
things with him, when others could not. She could make him see what
was right and what was wrong, what was fair and what was not fair. She
made him see ahead, too; to have ambitions and a desire to be something
worth while. He had a good head and he often used it, too.
A great opportunity came to Ted and to the other boys. A scout master
came to the Settlement and Ted, now over 12, became a Scout. He did
many extra little things so that he could earn the necessary money
for the suit and the other expenses, such as initiation and dues. The
sale of the Posts helped him and he eagerly watched the announcements
of the many awards of the Saturday Evening Post. While not often
successful in prize-winning, the help he received from his sales was
invaluable. He soon passed his tenderfoot test and earnestly and
successfully tried to understand woodcraft and all the other things a
Scout should know. He was loyal to his oath. It had to be a very good
deed each day for him to be satisfied. Being a good Scout was a great
ambition, so he found.
Much trouble he had had with the boys of the neighborhood. Once he had
seen three or four of them laughing at and poking a tiny mongrel to
whose tail they had tied a tin can almost as big as the pup itself.
There was a good deed to do, and so he sprang at the laughing, jeering
urchins, who gave way for but a moment and then proceeded to pound him.
It was a hard fight and they were succeeding fairly well when two of
the Settlement boys came along and the other youngsters scampered.
The poor pup, after Ted had untied the string, licked his shoes,
whining eagerly, and so, with a sudden impulse, the boy had picked
up the pup and brought him home. Mrs. Marsh had not been specially
pleased, but she let Ted have his way. The dog stayed.
Between school and the Settlement Ted was receiving an education equal
to that of any one. Only the summer before Miss Wells had spoken to
Mrs. Marsh and then both of them had insisted that Ted was to go to the
Settlement Camp for two weeks.
“I can’t go,” answered Ted. There was regret in his voice. To go seemed
the most wonderful thing in the world. “Who’s going to tend to my
papers and my Posts? I’m not going to lose my customers; can’t afford
to build up a new business.” The voice sounded final.
“You can get some of the other boys to do it for the two weeks,” Miss
Wells replied. “I’m sure Tom and Arthur would do it for you and then,
when they go, you can help them.”
That plan suited Tom and Arthur just as much as it did Ted. So he went
to camp for two weeks. I do not have to tell any of the boys who read
this of the fun he had. Tramping, going to the village, swimming,
rowing.
[Illustration: DOWN TO THE LAKE FOR A SWIM]
The bugle awakened them at six-thirty. Down to the lake for a swim and
setting-up exercises. Or, if you happened to be on the Cook, Waiters’
or Mess Tent Committee, you had to arise at five-thirty to prepare
breakfast. At seven you were so hungry you could eat shoeleather. At
seven-fifteen, you went to it.
Then your work, whatever committee you were on, Grounds, Tent, Water,
such as it was, had to be done. At ten-thirty, inspection, then a tramp
or another swim, perhaps rowing or reading, if you were lazy. Dinner,
for which you were quite ready, or, perhaps, this was the day for a
long “hike” and you were off somewhere, with lunch.
There usually was a baseball game in the afternoon. Some of the boys,
Ted too, caddied for a neighboring golf club several afternoons of the
week. The money thus earned paid for Ted’s stay at camp.
At night there was a campfire and songs. Ted had a wonderful time, but
the two weeks were up very, very soon. Without a useless regret, he
went back to his papers and his daily job.
Mrs. Marsh’s lot became a little easier. Thanks to her daughter
Helen’s wages and Ted’s earnings, things had been bettered.
Miss White went on to explain about Helen. She was sixteen years old,
for more than a year she had been one of the many salesgirls in one of
the big department stores of Chicago. She was a bright girl, always
willing, and so attentive that the miserable wage with which she had
started had been doubled in the one year. It was still pitifully small
notwithstanding.
“Mrs. Marsh has often said, ‘I am rich in my children, if in nothing
else’,” she quoted.
“She certainly is,” John Dean answered heartily.
There were more things Miss White told John Dean. As he listened he
made up his mind to do what he could, for here was a youngster who had
the makings of a fine man. Dean felt that this was a great opportunity
for him.
When Ted came in soon after he found his two friends going through
the Settlement and Miss White explaining to an interested and earnest
listener the things the Settlement was doing, just how it was making
good future citizens.
As Mr. Dean turned to leave, he asked Miss White for pen and ink and
left a check for a large amount with her.
“Just a little to help in the work,” he remarked. And because he was a
modest and a very bashful man, he blushed. Ted and he hurried out.