THE "MORNING BUGLE."
"Look at this disconsolate pair; melancholy has evidently marked them
for her own," said Bessie Sanford, as she and I crossed the corner of
the square, bound for an afternoon walk; aimless, except in the search
for fresh air and exercise.
The "disconsolate pair" were my little sisters, Allie and Daisy, who
now approached, trundling their dolls' perambulators in front of them,
and followed by mammy, who came limping after, also wearing a most
lugubrious expression; but whereas their distress was plainly mental,
her's was physical, drawn forth by pain.
"Old mammy has an attack of her pet bunion," I said, "and I suppose
that the children are, in consequence, debarred from their walk, and
they have but just come out. Poor little things! What do you say,
Bessie, to taking them with us? They would be enchanted."
"So should I. By all means let us take them," answered Bessie, who had
a love for children and their company, only second to my own.
"O, sister Amy!" cried both the little ones, dropping the
perambulators, and rushing up to us as soon as their eyes fell upon us,
"Mammy's bunion hurts so, she can't take us to walk, and it's such a
lovely day, and we want to go Jim's peanut-stand."
And the ever ready tears rushed to the eyes of Allie, who was prone to
weep upon slight provocation; and even Daisy, who was more
philosophical, though younger, looked heart-broken.
Sunshine speedily succeeded the showers, however, for my proposal that
they should accompany us was received with rapture; and, taking their
dolls into their arms, they abandoned the perambulators to the care of
mammy, who hobbled towards home with them. This bunion was mammy's
choice grievance, and she doubtless suffered much from it; but it was
an article of the family faith, that, when for any reason she was
disinclined to take her walks abroad with the children, the bunion
sympathized with this reluctance, and crippled her to an unusual
extent.
"And where do you want to go?" I asked of the beaming pair, who were
now hanging, the one on Bessie's arm, the other on mine. "Bessie and I
do not much care which way we go."
"Oh," said Daisy, ecstatically, "if you would only take us to Jim's
peanut-stand! Mother said we might go, and then mammy couldn't take
us."
"It's not fash'nable, but it's very respectable, Amy," said Allie,
impressively.
"But we cannot go to a peanut-stand, even though it belongs to Jim," I
expostulated.
"But it's not in the street; it's--you know Johnny, the flower-man,
sister?" said Allie.
"Johnny the flower-man" was a German florist on a small scale, who had
a little glass-enclosed stand on the corner of the avenue next to that
on which we lived, and who was extensively patronized by our family and
many of our neighbors. His box of a place, cosey, warm, and fragrant,
was a favorite resort of our children; and much of their pocket-money
went to the purchase of the potted plants and cut flowers which he sold
to them at a wonderfully reasonable rate. But what had the little
German to do with Jim and his peanut-stand? Allie soon enlightened us.
"Jim was going to have the stand on that corner," she said, "and he had
leave to do it; but mamma and aunt Emily said it would not do for Tony
and Matty to sit out of doors in the cold weather; it would kill Matty,
they said. And Jim was so disappointed, and he didn't know what to do;
and one day when sister Milly sent him to Johnny's, he told him about
it, and about Tony and Matty; and that lovely old Johnny,--Daisy and I
ask God to bless him every night when we've done our own people,--he
told Jim he could have a little corner of his store where it was all
glass, and the stand could be seen from the street; and then Matty
could sit there, and people would come in and buy her peanuts. Wasn't
it good in him? We love Johnny, if he does squint, and smell of
tobacco, and can't talk very plain."
"And then," said Daisy, taking up the tale in her turn, as Allie paused
for breath, "and then there wasn't room there for the roaster, 'cause
it's pretty squeezed up in Matty's corner, and in Johnny's store, too,
wif the stand there; so Johnny's wife, who lives just a little bit of a
way off, lets Tony have the roaster up in her room, and roast the
peanuts, and then he runs very quick wif 'em over to Matty, or, if it's
a nice, pleasant day, he has it put outside the door. But the smell of
the peanuts gets mixed up wif the smell of the flowers, and that isn't
so very nice."
"But Jim is making lots of money, he says," continued Allie; "'cause
most always when people come in to buy flowers, Johnny tells 'em they'd
better buy peanuts, too; and Jim printed a sign in German about peanuts
inside, and put the meaning in English beneath, and he says he thinks
he is doing a better business than if Matty sat outside. Norman and
Douglas buy lots, but," with a little sigh, "mother don't like Daisy
and me to eat peanuts. It would be a good way to do charity if she
would let us; but sometimes we buy some, and give them to the
servants."
Jim and his "peanut undertakin'," as Captain Yorke had called it, had,
in the press of other and greater interests, almost passed from my
mind, and I had made no inquiries about it lately; but, as visions of
numerous peanut-shells in the most unheard of places returned to my
recollection, I could not doubt the truth of Allie's assertion in
regard to my brothers.
While the children had been talking, we had been gradually walking on
towards the desired haven,--the corner where the German florist had his
tiny store; and presently we came to it. The little glass enclosure was
one mass of vivid green, and brilliant, glowing color; for Johnny was
remarkably successful in the treatment of his plants, and they always
wore a thrifty, healthy aspect, delightful to behold.
Without, just at the side of the door of entrance, hung the sign
described by Allie; and Daisy at once drew our attention to it.
The "German" legend ran thus:--
"Goot rost benuts ish incite, nein sents a quoort.
Shtep in unt py."
The English translation followed:--
"Good roost peanuts is inside, nine cents a quart.
Step in and by."
Bessie and I were inwardly amused, but did not let it appear to the
admiring children. Allie, however, had her own misgivings as to the
absolute correctness of the sign, and said, doubtfully,--
"I suppose the German must be all right, because Jim says that is the
way Johnny talks; but the English is not spelled quite right, is it,
sister Amy?"
"Not altogether," I answered; "but perhaps it attracts more attention
than it would do if it were quite correct, Allie, and that, you know,
is the object of a sign or notice."
"Yees," said Allie, doubtfully, lingering behind a moment to scan the
sign as I opened the door, and still inclined to criticise; "ye-es, but
somebody might laugh if it is not spelled quite right."
"That is of no consequence so long as it does not hurt business," I
said, shamelessly indifferent to the orthographical merits of the case.
"Come in, Allie, we must not keep the door open too long."
At the farthest end of the crowded little cubby-hole,--all the more
crowded, of course, for the accommodation which the good-hearted German
had afforded to Jim's beneficiaries,--sat the little deformed Matty,
behind her stand, on which were displayed a tempting pile of freshly
roasted peanuts, and various bright, new measures. Outside, on the
street, could be seen Tony, grinding away at his revolving roaster; for
the day was so exceptionally lovely, that there could be nothing in the
air to injure him, and he doubtless preferred its freshness, and the
brilliant sunshine, to the presumably dark and stuffy quarters of Mrs.
Johnny.
[Illustration: "AT THE FARTHEST END SAT THE LITTLE DEFORMED MATTY."
_Page_ 96.]
Poor, poor Matty! Deformed, shrunken, and wizened, she was a painful
contrast to all the beauty and brightness surrounding her in the little
conservatory. Beyond the sympathy unavoidably drawn forth by her
helpless and crippled condition, there was absolutely nothing to
attract one toward her. She looked peevish and fretful, too, so far as
there was any expression in the dull, heavy face. Was it to be wondered
at? There had been but little of brightness in her young life; and as I
looked from her to my little sisters, our petted household darlings,
carefully guarded and shielded, so full of life and joyousness, so free
from all pain or care, my heart swelled with thankfulness, that to them
had been allotted no such fate, and with the desire to brighten the lot
of this little unfortunate.
It was not so with her brother Tony: he was the jolliest, most active
little cripple that ever hobbled round on one leg and a crutch. The
celerity of his movements was something surprising; his voice was merry
and cheery; and his ugly young face, despite the many hardships of his
lot, generally wore a smile.
Now and then he would be seen with his face pressed against the glass,
with a nod of good-fellowship to his sister or Johnny, or staring at
such customers as happened to be within; and, if these proved to be
Matty's patrons, he would watch the progress of the sale with great
interest. Then he would turn to his roaster, and work it violently for
a few moments, then be off to the curbstone or crossing, exchanging
some, probably not very choice, joke with some other street-gamin, or
the conductor or driver of a passing street-car.
The children, Allie and Daisy, made their investments while I was
taking these observations, and Bessie was purchasing cut-flowers from
the old German. She was a good German scholar, and delighted the heart
of the old man with the familiar language of the fatherland, which
flowed glibly from her tongue. The consequence was, that that politic
young woman left the florist's with three times the amount of flowers
that I had, although I had spent just twice as much money. But, then, I
could not speak German.
"I am going to take my flowers to cousin Serena," I said, after we had
left the florist's, and exchanged a word or two with jolly little Tony
as we passed. "Will you come and see her, Bessie?"
Bessie assented, and the two little ones were only too glad to
accompany us. A visit to cousin Serena was always a treat to them.
"And we will give her the peanuts we bought; she likes peanuts," said
Daisy, who, as well as Allie, had maintained a silence, quite unusual
with them, during several minutes.
"But we'd like her and all our people to understand," said Allie,
loftily, "that we buy peanuts because of Jim, and not at all because of
Matty. She's the most unchristianest child we ever saw; and I think her
soul is hunchback, too, just as well as herself."
I had seen that Matty had repelled the advances of the children, who
had wished to show her their dolls, and to be kind to her; and I
endeavored to soothe them, and excuse her, by telling them how much she
had to suffer, and how her disposition might have been spoiled by all
that she had undergone.
But my words made no impression; the children were not to be mollified.
Allie still wore an air of outraged and offended dignity; and Daisy not
only maintained that solemn silence, but she looked grieved and hurt.
Our little ones were not accustomed to be snubbed, and took it hard
when such an experience did befall them; but there was a preternatural
gravity about them now, which excited my wonder.
"Why, Daisy," exclaimed Bessie, suddenly, "what is the matter with your
cheek? It is all red and scratched. What have you been doing to
yourself?"
"She didn't do it to herself," said Allie, indignantly, and before
Daisy could speak. "We didn't want to tell tales; but, sister Amy and
cousin Bessie, I think you are not very _noticeable_, not to see
Daisy's cheek before this. We are very much disappointed in you."
We apologized humbly, saying that Daisy's broad felt hat had prevented
us from seeing the state of her cheek before this, and inquired more
minutely into the cause thereof.
With some reluctance the children told, that, while Bessie and I had
been making our purchases of flowers, they had, after buying their
peanuts, tried to make themselves agreeable to Matty; but she had
proved far from responsive, and would not even look at the beautiful
dolls which they proffered for her admiration. Believing that shyness
alone was the cause of this ungraciousness, and filled with pity for
her condition, Daisy had at last raised Matty's arm and placed her doll
within it, when the cripple suddenly turned upon her, and drew the
nails of the disengaged hand viciously down poor little Daisy's soft
cheek, while, with the other, she threw the doll from her. Fortunately,
the doll was not hurt; but the insult to her cherished darling had
grieved Daisy more deeply than did the injury to herself. She had
heroically refrained from crying out, or making any complaint, lest
Johnny should be moved to espouse her cause, and avenge it on Matty;
but it had gone to her heart, and to Allie's as well, that, after such
forbearance, neither Bessie nor I should have noticed her plight.
However, we made up for it now by an outburst of indignation and
resentment, especially violent on my part; whereupon, the sage Allie
turned my own moral lecture, so lately delivered, upon myself,
recalling my exhortations to the effect that we should be patient and
forgiving with one so sorely afflicted as Matty Blair.
When we reached cousin Serena's, a little arnica and some French
bonbons healed Daisy's wounds, both mental and physical; but when
happiness and peace were once more restored, and she was seated upon
Miss Craven's lap, with Allie beside her, and the box of chocolates
between them, cousin Serena herself was discovered to be in a state of
no small flutter and excitement.
"My dears," she said, "have you seen the 'Morning Bugle' of to-day?"
"No," I said, emphatically. "Father would not allow that paper to come
into our house."
"Nor would my father," said Bessie.
"He says it is a scandalous sheet," I added. "He would not have it if
there were not another newspaper in the city."
"Nor would I in my own house," said Miss Craven; "but," apologetically,
"when one is in a boarding-house, my loves, you know one cannot control
other people."
"I should think not," said Bessie. "It would be hard, indeed, if you
were held responsible for the morals, or the literary tastes, of Mrs.
Dutton's other boarders."
"But you dearest of Serenas," I said, "you know you need not read the
'Morning Bugle' because some of the other people in the house take it.
O Serena, Serena," reproachfully, "I thought better things of you! That
_you_ should allow your mind and morals to be poisoned in that way!"
"My dear Amy! My dear children!" exclaimed the dear, matter-of-fact old
lady, who never knew when she was being teased, which made it all the
more delightful to tease her. "My dear loves, you do not think I read
that scandalous sheet! Why, this morning I should have said that
nothing would induce me to touch it; but when Mrs. Dutton came up with
the paper in her hand, and said, 'Is not this meant for your friends?'
what could I do? I had to take it, and read the paragraph; and, my
dears, here it is. Oh, I have been so unhappy all day about it! What
will your father and brother do? Mrs. Dutton let me cut this out, when
she saw how I felt about it."
I took the scrap of paper which she handed to me; and the blood rushed
to my heart, as I read an item with the following heading:--
"A MADISON-SQUARE SENSATION."
It was a garbled and scurrilous account of the late little incident at
our house, implying, indeed openly asserting, that there had been a
wholesale attempt at poisoning. Names were not given, not even the
initials under which the reporters of such gossip often pretend to
disguise publicity, and in a measure avoid responsibility; but, to the
initiated, there could be no doubt that the paragraph referred to my
unlucky cookery. Further particulars, it was said, would be given at a
later date, although it was difficult to obtain information, as the
parties concerned had endeavored to hush up the matter; and "money is a
power in this community."
I turned faint and giddy as I read; while Bessie, who looked over my
shoulder, burst into a tempest of indignant exclamation.
"Dear child! Don't turn so white, Amy, my dear; I am so sorry I showed
it to you," cried Miss Craven, aghast at my alarm and agitation. "It is
outrageous, scandalous; but it cannot hurt you: you see no names are
given. But I shall never forgive myself, for I told Mrs. Dutton about
the 'food for the gods'. She was interested, you know, when you were
here with me learning to make it, and asked me how it turned out. But
she is discretion itself; she would not say a word, nor let any one
know--Oh! my dear child, what shall I do? What shall we all do?"
But the vivid imagination with which I was credited by my friends, and
which not unseldom did cause me many a needless foreboding, was rampant
now; and visions arose before me of disgrace to the family, if those
dreadful newspaper people did, as they threatened, "give further
particulars," and perhaps go to greater lengths, and even print my name
in their horrible sheet. Should I ever be able to hold up my head
again? I sat in dumb, terrified astonishment.
But here, Bessie, with her practical common sense, came to the front,
and brought me back to reason.
"So that is the way you meant to make such a success of your 'food for
the gods,' is it, you fraud?" she said, putting her hands on my
shoulders, and playfully shaking me, "coming here and practising with
cousin Serena, forsooth; and the rest of us experimenting with our
first efforts. O Amy, Amy, I would not have believed it of you. And the
gods themselves turned against you. Their mills did grind exceeding
sure that time, and not so slowly, either; vengeance followed, swift
and sure. You deserve this. Cheating play never prospers, Amy; and
'honesty is the best policy,' and all that."
Meanwhile, the children were gazing from one to another of their
elders, not knowing what to make of all this,--Allie uncertain whether
or no she had better call upon her ever ready tears, Daisy bewildered,
and at a loss to know upon whom to bestow her sympathy, cousin Serena
or me; for I had not yet put my miserable imaginings into words, and my
startled looks alone appealed to her; while Miss Craven was in a
half-frantic state of excitement; and, as for Bessie, she had at first
appeared furiously angry, and now, with a sudden change, was turning
the whole thing into a laugh. What could it all be about? wondered
these innocents.
"Oh," I gasped at last, "what shall we do? What will papa say? What
will uncle Rutherford say? What will Edward say? What will----"
"Yes, my dear, what will Fred say?" Bessie completed my unfinished
sentence, as I paused, overwhelmed. "They will each and every man of
them settle this matter, to the anguish of that editor, if I know them,
and without one word of trouble or publicity to you, or any one of the
family. You dear goose, you, to make such a personal matter of it. Why
not, Jim; why not still more, Mary Jane?"
"I must go home," I said, feeling a burning desire to find at once my
natural protectors, and to place the matter in their hands; and go I
would and did, cousin Serena accompanying me, with Bessie and the
children. We paused by the way, to knock at Mrs. Dutton's door, and to
ask her if she had called the attention of any of the other boarders to
that shameful paragraph.
Mrs. Dutton, motherly, gentle, refined, a lady in birth, education, and
manner, and with a warm corner in her heart for the girls, big and
little, who ran in and out on their visits to Miss Craven, assured us
that she had not done so; and, in answer to my anxious inquiries, said,
also, that she had never mentioned the incident of the "food for the
gods" to any one.
It is not necessary to state, that my mankind were incensed when they
saw the objectionable paragraph, although they did make light before me
of my terrors and apprehensions; and it remained a fact, that Edward
went at once to a friend and brother lawyer, to request him to take
steps to prevent any further annoyance or developments in the matter.
It so happened, said this gentleman, that he had a hold upon the editor
of the "Morning Bugle," which that personage would be very sorry to
have him use to his disadvantage; and he assured Edward that he would
settle the affair in such a way that none of us need fear any future
trouble or publicity.
How the thing had become known so as to afford matter for newspaper
gossip, we could not tell, and did not much care to know; probably,
through the talk of the servants, who had, of course, been acquainted
with all the particulars of the unfortunate incident. Exaggeration, and
a wilful desire to falsify a trifle to the discredit of those concerned
had done the rest; but our lawyer friend's remedy proved effectual, and
the "Morning Bugle" was silenced.