GRANNY READS SOMETHING TO HER ADVANTAGE.
After her unsuccessful attempt to gain possession of Tom, granny
returned home, not only angry but despondent. She had been deeply
incensed at Tom’s triumph over her. Besides, she was tired of earning
her own living, if begging from door to door can properly be called
earning one’s living. At any rate it required exertion, and to this Mrs.
Walsh was naturally indisposed. She sighed as she thought of the years
when she could stay quietly at home, and send out Tom to beg or earn
money for her. She would like, since Tom was not likely to return, to
adopt some boy or girl of suitable age, upon whom she could throw the
burden of the common support. But such were not easy to be met with, and
Mrs. Walsh was dimly aware that no sane child would voluntarily select
her as a guardian.
So granny, in rather low spirits, sought her elevated room, and threw
herself upon the bed to sleep off her fatigue.
On awaking, granny seated herself at the window, and picked up
mechanically the advertising sheet of the “Herald,” in which a loaf of
bread had been wrapped that had been given to her the day previous. It
was seldom that Mrs. Walsh indulged in reading, not possessing very
marked literary tastes; but to-day she was seized with an idle impulse,
which she obeyed, without anticipating that she would see anything that
concerned her.
In glancing through the advertisements under the head “PERSONAL,” her
attention was drawn to the following:—
/# “If Margaret Walsh, who left Philadelphia in the year 1855, will call
at No. — Wall Street, Room 8, she will hear of something to her
advantage.” #/
“Why, that’s me!” exclaimed granny, letting the paper fall from her lap
in surprise. “It’s my name, and I left Philadelphy that year. I wonder
what it’s about. Maybe it’s about Tom.”
There were circumstances which led Mrs. Walsh to think it by no means
improbable that the inquiries to be made were about Tom, and this made
her regret more keenly that she had lost her.
“If it is,” she soliloquized, “I’ll get hold of her somehow.”
There was one part of the advertisement which particularly interested
granny,—that in which it was suggested that she would hear something to
her advantage. If there was any money to be made, granny was entirely
willing to make it. Considering the unpromising state of her prospects,
she felt that it was a piece of extraordinary good luck.
Looking at the date of the paper, she found that it was a fortnight old,
and was troubled by the thought that it might be too late. At any rate
no time was to be lost. So, in spite of the fatigue of her morning
expedition, she put on her old cloak and bonnet, and, descending the
stairs, sallied out into the street. She made her way down Nassau Street
to Wall, and, carefully looking about her, found without difficulty the
number mentioned in the advertisement. It was a large building,
containing a considerable number of offices. No. 8 was on the third
floor. On the door was a tin sign bearing the name:—
“EUGENE SELDEN,
_Attorney and Counsellor_.”
Mrs. Walsh knocked at the door; but there was no response. She knocked
again, after a while, and then tried the door. But it was locked.
“The office closes at three, ma’am,” said a young man, passing by. “You
will have to wait till to-morrow.”
Mrs. Walsh was disappointed, being very anxious to ascertain what
advantage she was likely to receive. She presented herself the next
morning at nine, only to find herself too early. At last she found the
lawyer in. He looked up from his desk as she entered.
“Have you business with me?” he asked.
“Are you the man that advertised for Margaret Walsh?” asked granny.
“Yes,” said Mr. Selden, laying down his pen, and regarding her with
interest. “Are you she?”
“Yes, your honor,” said granny, thinking her extra politeness might
increase the advantage promised.
“Did you ever live in Philadelphia?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Were you in service?”
Mrs. Walsh answered in the affirmative.
“In what family?”
“In the family of Mrs. Lindsay.”
“What made you leave her?” asked the lawyer, fixing his eyes searchingly
upon Margaret.
Granny looked a little uneasy.
“I got tired of staying there,” she said.
“When you left Philadelphia, did you come to New York?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Did you know that Mrs. Lindsay’s only child disappeared at the time you
left the house?” inquired the lawyer.
“If I tell the truth will it harm me?” asked granny, uneasily.
“No; but if you conceal the truth it may.”
“Then I took the child with me.”
“What motive had you for doing this wicked thing? Do you know that Mrs.
Lindsay nearly broke her heart at the loss of the child?”
“I was mad with her,” said granny, “that’s one reason.”
“Then there was another reason?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“What was it?”
“Young Mr. Lindsay hired me to do it. He offered me a thousand dollars.”
“Are you ready to swear this?”
“Yes,” said granny. “I hope you’ll pay me handsome for tellin’,” she
added. “I’m a poor—woman,” she was on the point of saying “widder with
five small children;” but it occurred to her that this would injure her
in the present instance.
“You shall receive a suitable reward when the child is restored. It is
living, I suppose?”
“Yes,” said granny.
“With you?”
“No, your honor. She ran away two months ago; but I saw her this
morning.”
“Why should she run away? Didn’t you treat her well?”
“Like as if she was my own child,” said granny. “I’ve often and often
gone without anything to eat, so that Tom might have enough. I took
great care of her, your honor, and would have brought her up as a leddy
if I hadn’t been so poor.”
“I thought it was a girl.”
“So it was, your honor.”
“Then why do you call her Tom?”
“’Cause she was more like a boy than a gal,—as sassy a child as I ever
see.”
“So you have lost her?”
“Yes, your honor. She ran away from me two months since.”
“But you said you saw her yesterday. Why did you not take her back?”
“She wouldn’t come. She told the policeman she didn’t know me,—me that
have took care of her since she was a little gal,—the ungrateful hussy!”
Granny’s pathos, it will be perceived, terminated in anger.
The lawyer looked thoughtful.
“The child must be got back,” he said. “It is only recently that her
mother ascertained the treachery by which she was taken from her, and
now she is most anxious to recover her. If you will bring her to me, you
shall have a suitable reward.”
“How much?” asked granny, with a cunning look.
“I cannot promise in advance, but it will certainly be two hundred
dollars,—perhaps more. Mrs. Lindsay will be generous.”
The old woman’s eyes sparkled. Such a sum promised an unlimited amount
of whiskey for a considerable time. The only disagreeable feature in the
case was that Tom would benefit by the restoration, since she would
obtain a comfortable home, and a parent whose ideas of the parental
relation differed somewhat from those of Mrs. Walsh. Still, two hundred
dollars were worth the winning, and granny determined to win them. She
suggested, however, that, in order to secure the co-operation of the
police, she needed to be more respectably dressed; otherwise her claim
would be scouted, provided Tom undertook to deny it.
This appeared reasonable, and as the lawyer had authority to incur any
expense that he might consider likely to further the successful
prosecution of the search, he sent out some one, in whom he had
confidence, to purchase a respectable outfit for Mrs. Walsh. He further
agreed to allow her three dollars a week for the present, that she might
be able to devote all her time to hunting up Tom. This arrangement was
very satisfactory to Mrs. Walsh, who felt like a lady in easy
circumstances. Her return to the tenement house, in her greatly improved
dress, created quite a sensation. She did not deign to enlighten her
neighbors upon the cause of her improved fortunes, but dropped hints
that she had come into a legacy.
From this time Mrs. Walsh began to frequent the up-town streets,
particularly Eighteenth Street, where she had before encountered Tom.
But as she still continued to make her rounds in the morning, it was
many days before she caught a glimpse of the object of her search. As
her expenses were paid in the mean time, she waited patiently, though
she anticipated with no little pleasure the moment which should place
Tom in her power. She resolved, before restoring her to her mother, to
inflict upon her late ward a suitable punishment for her rebellion and
flight, for which granny was not likely ever to forgive her.
“I’ll give her something to remember me by,” muttered granny. “See if I
don’t!”