MICK 
 
 OF THE 
 
 1 
 
 Y 
 
 KATE DICKINSON SWEETSER
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 OF CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS AHGEU5S
 
 James Barkerding, Knight.
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 AND OTHER YOUNGSTERS 
 
 BY 
 KATE DICKINSON SWEETSER 
 
 AUTHOR OF TEN BOYS FROM DICKENS AND TEN GIRLS FROM DICKENS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 1903
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1903 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 Published September, 1903
 
 TO 
 
 TWO LITTLE YOUNGSTERS 
 
 WHO WILL SOON OUTGROW THE TITLE 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 IS LOVINGLY INSCRIBED BY 
 
 "TANTE KATE." 
 
 2133096
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 25 
 
 OTHELLO, JR ^ 
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 93 
 
 SAL : HER STORY . 121 
 
 MAROONED . 165 
 
 vii
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 James Barkerding, Knight . . . Frontispiece 
 
 A millinery opening ....... 38 
 
 Othello, Jr 86 
 
 Sal 138 
 
 ix
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY

 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 DURING that portion of his short life 
 spent by Micky in Scott's Alley, he had al- 
 ways been Lord High Chancellor, Chief Jus- 
 tice, and Minister Plenipotentiary of the 
 Alley, dealing out advice, wisdom, and jus- 
 tice, in large or small parcels according to 
 requirements, and the days and weeks were 
 all too short for a person invested with so 
 much power. 
 
 At the age of five Micky had been trans- 
 planted by his widowed mother from the 
 Connecticut farm, where his grandparents 
 were rusting out their fourscore years, to 
 the city, where she could more easily support 
 herself and her little lame son for Micky 
 was a cripple. But he never used the term 
 to enlist sympathy rather, to excite envy, 
 for it was his badge of office, setting him 
 
 3
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 apart from his comrades by virtue of his 
 limitations, as Ruler of the alley. 
 
 His companions were able to go to 
 school, to walk and romp and play, while 
 Micky sat all day on the tumble-down stoop 
 of the house where he lived. Although he 
 was able to walk quite a distance, the proc- 
 ess was too slow and painful to be under- 
 taken often, so in winter and summer, bun- 
 dled up in mufflers and comforters, or clad 
 as scantily as the law allows, he was to be 
 found on the rickety steps of his home, dis- 
 pensing counsel or gossip. 
 
 When he was seven years old Micky was 
 left an orphan, alone in the great city, and 
 the old people on the farm wrote to the 
 women in the alley who had been their 
 daughter's friends, urging that the child be 
 sent back to them at once. But Micky was 
 strenuous in his appeals to stay in his be- 
 loved alley for the present, so he remained 
 while months slipped away, and the women 
 ministered to his needs as best they could. 
 
 Despite the wan thinness of his oval face, 
 4
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 there was genuine merriment in his laugh 
 and a wholesome sparkle of enthusiasm in 
 his eyes. This made the boys and girls sure 
 of his interest in whatever item they could 
 add to his hoard of information, when they 
 hastened to him after school with a report 
 of so much of their lessons as they could 
 remember. And Micky, with much dignity 
 and reserve in his bearing, listened, ab- 
 sorbed, digested, and gave out again, facts 
 thus accumulated, while the other children, 
 forgetful of what they had repeated to him, 
 looked upon him as the Oracle of their day 
 and generation. 
 
 To be in a class by yourself by virtue 
 of conceded superiority is always pleasant, 
 and Micky was supremely content until one 
 unexpected day. 
 
 That morning, as usual, after arranging 
 himself comfortably on the steps, he looked 
 about him and was amazed to see a pair of 
 gray eyes staring at him from a stoop 
 across the street. Surprised by the unex- 
 pected vision, Micky returned the stare, and 
 
 5
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 surveyed the newcomer from the tips of his 
 worn-out boots to his round, much freckled 
 face, surmounted by a mop of flaming red 
 hair. 
 
 "Hello!" was Micky's first move in the 
 game of hospitality. 
 
 " Hello, yerself ! " was the quick reply in 
 a rough, loud voice. 
 
 " Where'd you come from? I never saw 
 you before ! " 
 
 "You bet ye didn't!" The new boy's voice 
 was boisterously contemptuous. " 'Tain't 
 my fault ye see me now. Dad's got work in 
 the Swamp, so we had ter come too. It's 
 the worst old hole I ever seen." 
 
 His beautiful alley, where so many inter- 
 esting things happened, and where one 
 could catch such fine glimpses of the sunset 
 called by such a name! Micky was dumb 
 with resentment for some seconds, then he 
 remarked: " You'll take that back when you 
 get 'quainted. It's an awful nice place. 
 Ain't you goin' to school? " 
 
 " No! " The monosyllable shot across the 
 6
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 street with the force of a cannon-ball, and 
 quieted Micky again. But curiosity con- 
 quered, and leaning over, he called back, 
 " Why? " 
 
 The new boy's cheeks flamed until they 
 matched his hair. 
 
 "Mind yer bizness!" he retorted; then 
 for some unknown reason added curtly: 
 " I'm lame. That's why." 
 
 Quick as a flash enthusiasm leaped high 
 in Micky's eyes, and he rose. " Wait a min- 
 ute," he called, " I'm comin' over." 
 
 Hobbling across the street, he stood by 
 the new boy's side. 
 
 " So am I," he said with a merry laugh. 
 " Ain't that queer! There'll be two of us. 
 It's lots of fun." 
 
 " Fun! " exclaimed the new boy in aston- 
 ishment, as Micky, uninvited, settled him- 
 self for a visit. " How d'ye make that 
 out?" 
 
 " Well," said Micky confidentially, " bein' 
 different is nice. Nobody gets tired lookin' 
 
 at a lot of you, and you just sit all day and 
 
 a 7
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 tell things for them to listen to. Say, how 
 do your legs go? " 
 
 " Go ! " said the new boy. " They don't 
 go at all, that's the trouble." 
 
 " Neither do mine," confided Micky. 
 " My hip's a hole instead of a hip, an' when 
 one side o' me gets up to go, the other side 
 gets lost in the hole where bones ought 
 to be." 
 
 Micky felt pride in this clear explanation 
 of his limitations, and was not prepared for 
 his companion's loud outburst of laughter. 
 He roared and slapped his knees until the 
 alley rang with echoes and Micky's cheeks 
 were pink with wounded pride. " 'Tain't 
 comical like that," he said. " Guess I'll go 
 home." But the new boy put out a restrain- 
 ing hand. " Cheese it! " he said. " Sit still. 
 'Cordin' ter that I'm all holes and no bones 
 at all. I'm seven years old an' they call me 
 Reddy. What's yer name? " 
 
 " Michael O'Brien," responded Micky, 
 easily pacified, " an' I'm eight. It's awful 
 strange to have two of us here, ain't it? " 
 
 8
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 Reddy's reply in the affirmative led to a 
 long conversation which included every 
 topic of interest to them both, ending in an 
 exposition of fighting as a fine art, which 
 they illustrated with as active a set-to as 
 they could engage in. Micky's skill over- 
 balanced Reddy's brute force, and when, ex- 
 hausted, they fell apart, Reddy looked upon 
 his delicate little companion with admira- 
 tion not untinged with envy. 
 
 But alas for Micky! His supremacy both 
 over the new rival and over his friends began 
 from that day to wane. Reddy was aggres- 
 sive and selfish, and his jealousy of the re- 
 fined, popular little chap across the street 
 grew so intense that he resorted to all sorts 
 of devices by which to lure Micky's subjects 
 to his own doorstep. Once having beguiled 
 them to his side, he had an apparently end- 
 less fund of thrilling adventures to relate to 
 them. His father had been mate on a south- 
 ern steamer for some years, and from Red- 
 dy's accounts his father and he had had 
 escapes and happenings enough to fill vol- 
 
 9
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 umes. It made little difference to his audi- 
 ence whether the tales were true or imagi- 
 nary; in any case they were enthralling to 
 the eager group gathered around their new 
 leader, and so skilfully did Keddy use his 
 power that Micky ceased to attract or to 
 hold court as of old. Since the day when 
 he fought Keddy and beat him the new- 
 comer had paid him only the scant courtesy 
 of an occasional nod or a careless " Come 
 on over. All the fellers are comin' ter hear 
 my yarns." 
 
 These invitations Micky always acknowl- 
 edged with a smile, but did not accept, as 
 he was more comfortable on his own steps. 
 Often as he sat there he felt a troublesome 
 lump rise in his throat. It was not that he 
 minded being alone, for Reddy's loud voice 
 was easy to hear in every corner of the alley 
 as he told his marvelous tales. It was only 
 the thought that those boys and girls used 
 to like to sit with him while he did the talk- 
 ing that he minded that made the lump 
 come in his throat. But he bravely sat 
 
 10
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 alone and tried to be content with an occa- 
 sional visit from a former subject, to enjoy 
 his corner and the sunsets as of old, and 
 succeeded fairly well, considering all things. 
 
 One afternoon, alone as usual, he was 
 glancing over a Herald, given him by a 
 newsboy of the alley, w r hen a paragraph in it 
 arrested his attention. It told of the com- 
 ing of a famous German surgeon who could 
 cure the lame by a marvelous and compara- 
 tively painless process. So excited did 
 Micky become over it that the letters jum- 
 bled themselves together, and only by a su- 
 preme mental effort could he separate them 
 into words. But at last he deciphered the 
 fact that the great man would be in New 
 York the following week, and that several 
 prominent city surgeons could each present 
 a number of cases to be operated upon. 
 
 Not a moment did Micky lose. Gather- 
 ing himself together, he hobbled slowly 
 down the street. Keddy, seeing him, called 
 out: "Hey, there where yer goin'?" And 
 although it gave him additional steps to 
 11
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 take, Micky crossed over and told all 
 about it. But Reddy only laughed at him. 
 " It's a fake, sure," he said. " Ef 'twuz any 
 good, he'd ha' been here long ago. Amer- 
 ica's too rich not to ha' got on to him afore. 
 Them papers is liars." 
 
 This unbelief took the edge off of Micky's 
 enthusiasm, but he would have died rather 
 than show it, so with no retort to Reddy's 
 remark, he continued on his way toward the 
 dispensary, where he proposed to interview 
 Dr. Gates, who had many times given him 
 liniment and advice. 
 
 He found the young fellow there on duty, 
 and told him what he had read in the paper, 
 adding : " Reddy says he's a fake, sir. Is 
 he?" 
 
 Dr. Gates shook his head. " No, Micky, 
 he is great and good. Reddy doesn't know 
 what he is talking about." 
 
 " Oh, then, sir," pleaded Micky, " you can 
 get him to look at my hip, please, sir, can't 
 you? " 
 
 Micky's delicate upturned face showed 
 12
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 such intensity of eagerness, and such confi- 
 dence in the young doctor's ability to help 
 him, that Dr. Gates felt a thrill of interest 
 in the little chap, whose condition he knew 
 to be exactly that most easily helped by the 
 great surgeon. Crossing the room he con- 
 sulted a ledger, ran his pencil through a 
 name, replaced it by another, and advanced 
 smiling to Micky's side, saying: 
 
 " Yes, Micky, we'll give you a chance. 
 Your case will be just what the doctor likes. 
 Who knows, you may play football yet? We 
 can present five subjects for him to choose 
 from, and you shall be number five. I have 
 only had two hundred and forty-nine appli- 
 cations already. You will have to be at the 
 Manhattan Hospital next Friday at nine 
 o'clock. Is there any one to take you? " 
 Micky looked so doubtful that the doctor 
 added: "Very well, come here and go with 
 me. Nine o'clock sharp, and don't get too 
 much excited about it. The quieter you are, 
 you know, the better the result will be for 
 you." 
 
 13
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 " I'll do my best, sir, thank you," said 
 Micky gravely; then passing out, he found 
 himself again hobbling down the alley, this 
 time with a small cyclone of excitement ra- 
 ging in his breast, which he tried in vain to 
 still. Seeing Reddy, he called out: " 'Tain't 
 a fake, an' I'm goin' to have a show." 
 
 Reddy snapped his fingers in scorn. 
 "Oh, git out!" he said, and Micky hurried 
 on to share his piece of news with the 
 women in the house, who were all deeply 
 interested, for they were devoted to the lit- 
 tle lad. 
 
 At last Friday came, and Micky, in 
 a stiffly starched shirt and neatly mended 
 suit, set out for the dispensary, escorted by 
 one of the women, who delivered him over 
 to Dr. Gates, and learned that after the 
 operation Micky would be cared for in the 
 hospital for some days, and that his side 
 would be encased in plaster for several 
 weeks. Listening, Micky did not hear. In 
 imagination he was already taking part in 
 the active and delightful sports which he 
 
 14
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 had missed for so many years. Even when 
 he and the doctor boarded a car he did not 
 wake from his trance. But as they neared 
 the hospital and the car began to fill with 
 women and children, he roused to watch 
 them. 
 
 " I didn't know there were so many in 
 the world like me," he said to the doctor. 
 "Are they all going there, too?" 
 
 The doctor said Yes, but added: "They 
 haven't all got a friend at court like you, 
 Micky. Many of them are just going on the 
 chance of having their case attract the doc- 
 tor's attention." 
 
 " And if they don't, will they have to go 
 back home again?" 
 
 The doctor nodded, adding reassuringly: 
 " But you needn't be afraid. You have a 
 number and a place. The doctor won't pass 
 you by." 
 
 "Oh!" said Micky, and again relapsed 
 into silence. 
 
 The great building which they soon en- 
 tered was a marvel of heat and light and 
 
 15
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 construction to Micky's wondering eyes as 
 they passed through its halls and into a 
 large receiving room) but more interesting 
 still to him were the boys and girls crowd- 
 ing in with eager hope written on their 
 faces. After handing Micky his tag of iden- 
 tification, Dr. Gates disappeared and Micky 
 stood alone, watching the throng of people 
 crowd into the room. A familiar shock of 
 red hair attracted his attention Reddy! 
 
 Micky held his breath for astonishment, 
 as he watched the well-known figure push 
 his way roughly through the crowd, elbow- 
 ing boys and girls aside, until he stood by 
 Micky. 
 
 " Hello! " Micky found his voice at last, 
 and tried not to feel regretful, as he added: 
 " What made you come? " 
 
 " 'Cause I chose to, that's why! " Reddy 
 spoke so crossly that Micky flushed, but he 
 only said as pleasantly as he could: "I'm 
 awful glad you did! Got a doctor and a 
 number? " 
 
 "No'op; took me chances!" snapped 
 16
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 Reddy, and there was no more time for con- 
 versation. The operating-table was ready 
 for its next occupant and the great surgeon 
 made his way into the waiting-room, his en- 
 trance marked by a deep and breathless 
 silence. Looking to right and left, examin- 
 ing tags and faces, and asking questions, he 
 passed through the crowd, and Micky saw 
 joy written on a little girl's face as she was 
 chosen to try her chance of being made over 
 by a man's wonderful skill. Later Nos. 
 2 and 3 were picked from the ranks and 
 went bravely away to their ordeals. Then 
 the surgeon came into the room again and 
 consulted his watch. No. 3 had taken longer 
 than had been expected; only one more case 
 could be treated that day. Micky felt a 
 powerful hand laid upon his shoulder as he 
 was examined from head to foot, and closely 
 questioned. Then the surgeon's practised 
 eye fell upon Eeddy, who had pushed for- 
 ward, trying to attract attention from 
 Micky, and the famous man looked Reddy 
 over closely, too. "Ah!" he exclaimed. 
 17
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 " An exactly similar case, only younger, 
 easier to work on. Well, rny lad," he added 
 kindly, " I'm sorry, but you see this other 
 little fellow comes first, and has a tag, so I 
 must give him the first chance." 
 
 Micky, watching Reddy closely as the 
 surgeon spoke, saw fierce gleams of hope and 
 despair transfigure the freckled face, then 
 give way to a look of purple disappointment. 
 Micky could never explain what happened 
 then; he only knew that with the same tre- 
 mendous desire to be well which he had 
 nursed for weeks came a restraining im- 
 pulse more powerful yet. With a quick 
 movement he placed himself behind Reddy, 
 saying to the surgeon : " Go ahead and try 
 him, please. I like bein' lame. Honest, I do. 
 They'll tell you so in the alley, and he hates 
 it. Take him. He says he got here first, 
 anyhow." 
 
 There was no time for argument or de- 
 bate. The surgeon's day was all parceled 
 out in small fragments of hours and Micky's 
 tone was conclusive. The great man laid a 
 
 18
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 hand on his shoulder again, saying kindly: 
 " He is grateful to you, I am sure. Come, 
 then, my boy." And with Reddy following, 
 he left the room, while Micky remained be- 
 hind in the rank and file of those passed by. 
 
 Dr. Gates was very angry when he heard 
 of Micky's behavior, expressing himself so 
 forcibly to that effect that tears came 
 to the tired little lad's eyes. He felt 
 that he must have done a very wrong thing, 
 as he tried to explain the situation to Dr. 
 Gates, and did not seem to make his ex- 
 planation satisfactory. He felt, too, that he 
 had been ungrateful to the kind young doc- 
 tor, and that he was somehow responsible for 
 the severe cold in his head which that young 
 man seemed suddenly to have contracted. 
 
 The only thing that made him feel less 
 criminal and forlorn was the thought of 
 Reddy's triumphant joy, when he marched 
 off with the surgeon. That recollection 
 made Micky warm and peaceful inside while 
 he was enduring the storm of protestations 
 which followed his return home, for the 
 
 19
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 women were deeply chagrined when they 
 saw him coming home as he had gone, and 
 heard of Keddy's good fortune. Micky did 
 not offer an explanation of his part in that 
 matter. Eeddy had got ahead of him; that 
 was enough to say, but it was not at all 
 pleasant to listen to the reproaches cast 
 upon him for letting himself be outdone by 
 a younger boy. Bedtime came soon, how- 
 ever, and he was so tired that his sleep was 
 heavy and long, and when he awoke the 
 world was a blaze of sunshine. 
 
 Then when he was settled on his door- 
 step again, with no rival across the street, 
 and the eager children crowding around him 
 to hear his story and ask questions, sud- 
 denly the old joy of living swept over him in 
 warm waves of satisfaction. Once more he 
 was Lord High Chancellor, Chief Justice, 
 and Minister Plenipotentiary of the Alley, 
 and who would not willingly be lame for 
 that reward? 
 
 He was reflecting sagely upon the mat- 
 ter when his meditations were interrupted 
 
 20
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 by the unwonted sight of a cab drawing up 
 to the curb in front of the house. The vi- 
 sion drew a dozen heads from as many win- 
 dows, and almost the entire household saw 
 Dr. Gates jump from the cab, beam upon 
 Micky, and call out: "Come, little chap, 
 come! You are to have a show to-day, and 
 I'll stand by to see you take it this time! 
 That red-headed boy says to tell you it 
 isn't a fake, and to come right along and 
 try it." 
 
 At first Micky was silent and reluctant. 
 Emotions of pleasure and resistance con- 
 flicted within him, and to turn resignation 
 into anticipation at a moment's notice was 
 difficult and bewildering. But Dr. Gates 
 paid no attention to his reluctance, and 
 after a word with one of the women, carried 
 him off in the cab, Micky solemnly waving 
 his hand to the excited watching women as 
 they drove off. Then a quick flush of eager- 
 ness crimsoned his face, and deliberately 
 and forever he relinquished his dreams of 
 power, as one of ja kind, for the chance of 
 21
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 becoming one of the many an active, 
 hearty boy. 
 
 Hours later, as he lay in the hospital 
 ward, dreamily comfortable after the ef- 
 fects of the ether had worn off, he turned 
 his head at the sound of a familiar voice. 
 Reddy! In the next cot lay his rival, his 
 head looking like a cloud of flame against 
 the snowy pillow and his eyes lighted with 
 real pleasure such as Micky had never seen 
 in them before. 
 
 "Hello!" he said, and his rough voice 
 actually trembled with emotion. " Ain't this 
 a jolly go? Soon as I found out 'twasn't no 
 fake, I jawed at that kid doctor ter go an' 
 tell yer so. 'Tain't no fun ter get bones in 
 place o' holes, an' ceilin' plaster caked on yer 
 legs widout another feller ter go ye one 
 better. You bet it'll hurt like blue blazes 
 'fore we get there, but that don't cut no ice 
 when there's two on us, an' " Reddy hesi- 
 tated, then with a merry wink added : " An' 
 I say, Micky, when we do get legs, let's 
 make the alley howl! We won't git made 
 22
 
 MICKY OF THE ALLEY 
 
 over fer nothink, bet yer life on that, 
 will we?" 
 
 And Micky, rousing from his peaceful 
 dreams of sunsets, meadows, and running 
 brooks, seen in earlier days, smiled assent; 
 then lay in quiet happiness, awaiting the 
 issue of his destiny. 
 
 23
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 " WELL," said Louise, drawing a bit of 
 paper from her pocket, " here is the mem- 
 orandum I have made, and as nearly as I 
 can see, we can do the whole thing for thirty 
 dollars carpet, paper, and all or for forty 
 at the very outside. Now listen while I 
 read the list," she added, then read aloud 
 her itemized account of details to wide-eyed 
 Helen, to whom her sister's decisive actions 
 were always a revelation. 
 
 " There ! " said Louise, looking up tri- 
 umphantly. " Isn't that well planned? You 
 see, the whole sum, leaving a margin for in- 
 cidentals, is thirty dollars, and I believe we 
 could make it just as well as not." 
 
 " It is a great deal of money," said Helen 
 doubtfully she could never jump to the en- 
 thusiasm of a colossal plan as Louise could. 
 27
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 " I don't exactly see how we two alone could 
 make it, though of course it would be per- 
 fectly lovely if we only could. But where 
 would our materials come from? And do 
 you suppose mother would approve of our 
 doing it? " 
 
 Louise puckered up her eyebrows in a 
 tremendous frown. When one is very much 
 excited over a scheme it is rather trying 
 to be opposed, and she looked disturbed at 
 Helen's words. 
 
 " I don't think anything about it," she 
 said majestically, " I know! If I were so 
 faint-hearted I wouldn't confess it for any- 
 thing! Do you think mother wants us to tie 
 our talents up tight in napkins? Why do 
 you suppose I was given a taste for trim- 
 ming hats, if it wasn't so I could take care of 
 mother when she was sick? Of course we 
 ought to do it. I know she would approve. 
 It isn't as if we were going to take bread out 
 of some poor girl's mouth by doing it. That 
 old sanatorium has eaten up all mother's 
 money, and I don't think she ought to come 
 
 28
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 back to the dingy room where she was sick 
 so long. She hasn't anybody but us to take 
 care of her, and I am going to. If you don't 
 want to help, you needn't! " 
 
 Loui^ was always queenly when she was 
 provokea, her eyes were so large and her 
 cheeks so red. Helen looked admiringly 
 at her, and answered meekly: 
 
 " Of course, if it is decided, I will help all 
 I can, but 
 
 " There isn't any but," said Louise with 
 decision. " We must make up our minds 
 that it can be done, and that we will carry 
 it through. Now the question is, how to 
 get money to buy our materials." 
 
 " How much will it take? " 
 
 " Fifty dollars, I think, if we have any 
 sort of stock." 
 
 " Fifty dollars! Why, that's more than 
 we need to make! " 
 
 " Of course it is," said Louise with a very 
 superior air. " Much you know about busi- 
 ness! You have to take risks to make any- 
 thing. Any man will tell you that. That 
 29
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 does not trouble me. What I want to know 
 is, where to get the money." 
 
 Helen twisted a wisp of hair between 
 her thumb and finger a sure sign that her 
 thoughts were busy and was silent for 
 some time, while Louise was figuring with 
 paper and pencil. 
 
 "I have it, I have it!" Helen cried, so 
 suddenly that Louise dropped her pencil in 
 surprise; "Judge Emory is the person! He 
 loves mother and is fond of us. I am sure 
 he will do it." 
 
 Louise beamed. " Exactly the man. 
 How did you ever think of him? We will 
 tell him all about it, and give him a signed 
 paper for security if he wants it; for it will 
 be only a loan, of course." 
 
 " Suppose we can't ever pay him? " sug- 
 gested Helen dubiously. 
 
 " Pooh! " said Louise. " We will! Come 
 on! Let's go right away and see him now." 
 
 Louise flew for her hat, in her own im- 
 pulsive way, found Helen's too, tossed it to 
 her, piled up the books from which they had 
 
 30
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 been studying, and away they went, arm in 
 arm. 
 
 A word of explanation while they are 
 gone. After Mr. Haye's death, as Mrs. 
 Haye did not feel equal to the expense of 
 keeping up the large house, Mrs. Smith 
 leased it, turned it into a boarding-house, 
 and the Hayes remained in two sunny front 
 rooms as boarders. And it was well that 
 matters were so arranged, for not long after 
 Mrs. Haye gave way to nervous prostration, 
 a result of the strain of her husband's long 
 sickness, and was obliged to go to a sana- 
 torium, where she had been for six months. 
 They would have been dreary, lonesome 
 months for the girls if they had not been in 
 the care of such a motherly soul as Mrs. 
 Smith. As it was, it had been hard enough 
 for them both; but bright, resolute Louise 
 had shouldered all the burdens of care and 
 responsibility and kept Helen happy and 
 contented. 
 
 Now there had come a letter from Mrs. 
 Haye saying that on the day before Christ- 
 31
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 mas she would be again at home, and it was 
 this letter which led to the making of their 
 plans. 
 
 Ever since she could remember, Louise 
 had shown a marked talent for millinery, 
 and had trimmed the hats of her relatives, 
 friends, and protegees. Given a plain round 
 frame and simple trimming, her knack could 
 transform them into a dainty creation for 
 the head. It was no wonder that every one 
 said to her: 
 
 " Well, you certainly ought to be a mil- 
 liner! " 
 
 And so, as she cast about for ways and 
 means by which to transform her mother's 
 room from its dingy, worn-out state into 
 freshness, the idea had come to her hats! 
 Just the thing! And in her characteristic 
 way, she had first seen the paperer, found out 
 the cost of what she wished done, thought 
 it all out, and said, " I'll do it! " with a de- 
 cision that no obstacles could daunt. 
 
 Judge Emory received the girls with a 
 hearty welcome, for they were great favor- 
 32
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 ites of his; as, indeed, they were with almost 
 every one they were so bright and whole- 
 some, with none of the airs which many 
 girls of fifteen and sixteen affect. Louise 
 carefully laid the scheme before the old gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 " It is an immense amount, we know," 
 she said seriously. " But really, judge, we 
 will do our best to pay it back right away, 
 and we will never forget your goodness." 
 
 The judge tried his best to suppress a 
 smile that trembled on his lips, but a sus- 
 picion of it lingered as he answered gravely: 
 
 " Yes, it is a large sum; but for the sake 
 of old friendship, I will try to accommodate 
 you, and I think I will risk it without any 
 security but your word." 
 
 Louise clasped her hands with a sigh of 
 relief. 
 
 " Oh, we are so thankful," she said. 
 "You can't even guess how glad!" as the 
 judge took out some bills and handed her 
 the ten fives. Then Mrs. Emory came in and 
 insisted that they should stay for luncheon. 
 33
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 At the table the great plan was unfolded to 
 her, and she was as interested and enthusi- 
 astic as they could wish. 
 
 " You see," said Louise, " I couldn't have 
 a bit of pleasure in doing it if it was going 
 to take the living away from any one. But 
 the people whom we shall ask to our sale 
 will not be ones who ever buy hats any- 
 where but in New York, and besides that, 
 to be perfectly fair and square, I shall go to 
 Miss Foley, tell her all about it, and say 
 that if she thinks we take away any of her 
 custom, and my hats are admired, I will 
 work for her afterward until I make up the 
 loss to her. Isn't that perfectly honorable, 
 Mrs. Emory? " 
 
 " I think it is just what your mother's 
 daughters ought to do, my dear," answered 
 Mrs. Emory affectionately. " And I will 
 help you all I can." 
 
 This was in the middle of October, and 
 for the next six weeks the girls worked like 
 beavers, out of school hours, getting their 
 materials, planning how to use them, and 
 
 34
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 arranging all the details. As the hats began 
 to grow under their skilful fingers their 
 interest and pleasure heightened so greatly 
 that had not Mrs. Smith interfered and in- 
 sisted on fresh air and amusement they 
 would have spent all their time in the be- 
 loved workroom. 
 
 Louise was forewoman, originating most 
 of the ideas, combining the colors, and doing 
 the outside work, while Helen put in the 
 facings and crown linings, and did it beau- 
 tifully, too, for she was the pink of neat- 
 ness in everything she undertook. 
 
 An interested friend who was eager that 
 the sale should be a success gave them the 
 idea of making gay bandboxes by covering 
 plain ones with pretty, inexpensive wall- 
 papers. So with all the branches of their 
 business they were well supplied with work. 
 
 Mrs. Smith had an unused attic room 
 which she let them use for a workroom, and 
 there as the days went by the pile of filled 
 boxes grew, until toward the end of No- 
 vember everything was ready for the sale. 
 35
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 The boxes pink, blue, lilac, black, and 
 gilt, matching their contents as nearly as 
 possible were so fascinating to the girls 
 that they could scarcely bear to leave them 
 for meals or sleep, and they counted and 
 fingered them over and over and over. 
 
 No one but Mrs. Smith was allowed to 
 see their treasures beforehand, for Louise 
 wished them to burst upon the public as a 
 magnificent whole; so there was no way of 
 knowing whether they would be a success or 
 not, because although Mrs. Smith was loud 
 in her praises, the girls felt that she was 
 probably prejudiced in their favor. 
 
 Mr. Smith, who was kindness itself, had 
 little cards of announcement printed to be 
 sent out, which read: 
 
 MLLE. LOUISE 
 requests your presence at her 
 
 OPENING! 
 To be held at 242 Center St., November 25th. 
 
 Hats! Bonnets! Novelties! 
 
 Suited to all tastes and at lowest prices. 
 
 36
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 These had to be addressed, and then the 
 girls delivered them during their afternoon 
 walks. 
 
 Then came the final stitches and pricing; 
 and the great day was at hand! 
 
 Louise was up at sunrise, peering anx- 
 iously through the blinds to satisfy herself 
 that it was not raining, but could tell very 
 little about the weather, as there was a 
 thick fog; so back to bed she went, and 
 finally awoke in a blaze of sunshine with 
 Helen shaking her and crying: 
 
 "Wake up! Wake up! It is a perfect 
 day, and there are so many things to do! " 
 
 The exhibition was to be in their mother's 
 room, where the bed had been taken down, 
 leaving plenty of space for hats and people; 
 and the girls set to work arranging things, 
 giving the bonnets loving little pats of ad- 
 miration as they came out of their boxes. 
 
 Miss Foley, the milliner, had thanked 
 
 Louise warmly for her generous offer, and, 
 
 far from seeming provoked about the sale, 
 
 had offered to lend not rent, but lend 
 
 37
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 frames on which to exhibit the hats; so it 
 was a comparatively easy matter to ar- 
 range them. 
 
 "I feel just as if they were friends, don't 
 you, Louise? " said Helen, as she held in her 
 hand a dainty evening bonnet of forget-me- 
 nots and silver ribbon. " This one I really 
 love, and I shall miss it dreadfully." 
 
 "Which is it?" said Louise in her 
 bustling way. " Oh, yes, the forget-me-not 
 one. Here, give it to me. It is just what I 
 want by this black picture hat with feath- 
 ers." 
 
 Louise had no mind for sentiment then, 
 she was knee-deep in business, enveloped 
 in a huge apron a duster thrown over her 
 shoulder; so Helen put aside her affection 
 for the hats and tried to look upon them as 
 articles of commerce. 
 
 "There!" she exclaimed, as Louise gave 
 a last touch to one table. " Those are ex- 
 actly right! Each brings out the effect of 
 the other. They look stunning! " 
 
 There were in all three dozen bon- 
 38
 
 A millinery opening.
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 nets and hats. Some sober bonnets, suit- 
 able for older women, trimmed in jets and 
 handsome velvets; a dozen big Gainsbor- 
 oughs, turned up in coquettish shapes, and 
 made too daring with their knots of vivid 
 color mixed in with the feathers for any 
 but picturesque young faces; some walking 
 hats, only ornamented with bands and stiff 
 wings; a few pretty, simple children's hats; 
 and what the girls were fondest of, and 
 Louise had expended her greatest ingenuity 
 upon dainty evening bonnets " holes 
 with ribbon around them," as Helen called 
 them. They were prettiest of all, in silver 
 and gold and softest shades of ribbon, com- 
 bined with roses and violets and the dainti- 
 est aigrets attainable. 
 
 " Do you suppose we have asked too 
 much for them? " Helen said dubiously, 
 balancing on her hand one of her particular 
 favorites made of moss-green twisted vel- 
 vet and violets. " Eight dollars seems a 
 great deal to pay for this." 
 
 "Too much!" echoed Louise. "Why, 
 * 39
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 Helen Haye, we are asking five dollars less 
 than any milliner would for every one, and 
 the materials cost more than they would 
 have paid, for we got the best. Too much? 
 I guess not!" 
 
 " Girls," said Mrs. Smith, looking in at 
 them, "are you ready for people? It is 
 eleven o'clock now." 
 
 Helen hastily placed the hat which she 
 was holding, while Louise gave a last whisk 
 of the duster over the polished table, and 
 they hurried out stopping at the door TO 
 note the effect. 
 
 " It is perfect! " said Helen. 
 
 " Not a single person will come, and it 
 will be a failure, I know! " exclaimed Louise 
 dismally, which remark showed plainly her 
 overtired state. But the doleful prophecy 
 was nipped in the bud by a ring at the bell. 
 
 " My heart beats so fast I can't breathe," 
 said Helen. " O Louise, do you suppose it 
 is some one? Quick take off that apron." 
 
 It was somebody, and the bell kept on 
 ringing steadily all day. Every one was so 
 
 40
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 enthusiastic that Louise and Helen were 
 perfectly amazed, and if it had not been for 
 Mrs. Smith's help, I fear they would have 
 forgotten the prices of the hats they were 
 so excited. Some friends of the girls came 
 out of real interest, others from curiosity; 
 but once there, every one said the same 
 thing: 
 
 " How pretty! How cheap! What tal- 
 ent you have! Did you really make them 
 yourselves?" until the girls began to rattle 
 off the answers like machines. 
 
 In the morning every one admired and 
 looked, but no one bought, and Louise began 
 to fear that nothing would be sold. But in 
 the afternoon it was quite different; every 
 one seemed determined to buy something, 
 and at six o'clock there was only a single 
 bonnet left on its frame in the deserted 
 room, while in Louise's possession was a list 
 of orders for a dozen more hats, as well as a 
 substantial roll of bills. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Smith, as the two girls 
 came down into the library, " if that didn't 
 41
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 beat all for a success! I've been telling 
 Charley about it, and he thinks it was won- 
 derful." 
 
 " Do you think they bought them because 
 they felt they had to?" 
 
 "Indeed, they did not!" Mrs. Smith 
 spoke emphatically. " That's exactly what 
 I was saying. They were all taken with get- 
 ting so much for their money. I watched 
 them!" 
 
 " Well, I am thankful" said Helen from 
 the depths of the chair into which she had 
 thrown herself. 
 
 " Oh, I am so tired! " groaned Louise 
 from the sofa. " But wasn't it jolly? 
 Wasn't it funny? It seems just like a 
 dream. But I'm too tired even to count up 
 what we made." 
 
 " I am not," said Mrs. Smith. " Here, 
 give me the paper, child. Of course you are 
 worn out. I knew you would be. I'll 
 reckon it up for you." 
 
 She and Helen drew up to the table 
 under the light, and Louise watched them 
 
 42
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 with drowsy interest. It was so nice to 
 think that it was all over and there was 
 nothing to be done that minute! 
 
 " All the bonnets sold for ten dollars a 
 piece, didn't they? " asked Mrs. Smith. 
 
 " Eight did, and four for only eight," an- 
 swered Louise lazily. 
 
 Mrs. Smith went on figuring busily and 
 Helen helped her, reading from the list the 
 prices of the hats sold, while Louise listened 
 with half-shut eyes. Finally they had it all 
 down. 
 
 tf Now let's add it up and see what it 
 makes," said Helen eagerly, and Mrs. Smith 
 read aloud: 
 
 " 8 bonnets at $10.00 $80.00 
 
 4 bonnets at $8.00 32.00 
 
 6 hats at $10.00 60.00 
 
 6 plain ones at $5.00 30.00 
 
 4 children's hats at $6.00 24.00 
 
 8 theater bonnets at $8.00. . . 64.00 " 
 
 Then Helen gave a scream. 
 "O Louise, Louise, quick! Come here 
 43
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 and see what it makes! Do you see? Do 
 you think it can be true? f 290.00! Why, I 
 never thought of such a thing! " 
 
 Louise's sleepiness was gone! She was 
 at the table in a flash, staring at the paper 
 with the figures on it. 
 
 "Why, yes," she said slowly; "f 290.00! 
 It is actually true. Oh! oh! oh! Isn't 
 it too delicious? Just think of all we can 
 buy, even after we pay up! You dear, 
 blessed creature! " 
 
 Louise seized Helen around the waist 
 and whirled her around and around the 
 room until breathless they were obliged 
 to drop into the nearest chairs, Louise 
 gasping: 
 
 " Either they were very kind, or - 
 else our talent is good for some- 
 thing!" 
 
 " I think it was a little of both," said 
 Mrs. Smith. " Come to tea, children, you 
 must be fainting away." 
 
 Such fun as it was, seeing the look of 
 surprise on Judge Emory's face when they 
 
 44
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 repaid him his loan and told him of their 
 success. But a greater delight than that 
 was buying the pretty new furnishings for 
 the room and transforming it. In the mat- 
 ter of carpets and furniture they asked Mrs. 
 Smith's help, not feeling competent them- 
 selves to judge of the quality, and their 
 taste combined with the older woman's 
 judgment made all their purchases suc- 
 cessful. 
 
 Of course people had asked the reason 
 for the sale and been interested in the 
 object of it, and to several friends whom 
 they knew well the girls showed the room 
 after the very last touches had been com- 
 pleted. 
 
 " Now, when I fill my orders," Louise ex- 
 plained to Mrs. Emory, " we shall have 
 enough money to buy wines and hothouse 
 grapes and any delicacies that the doctor 
 may order when mother needs them. It will 
 be so lovely to feel that we can really show 
 her how glad we are that she is back! " 
 
 " So lovely, dear, that you may be 
 45
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 tempted to keep on with it. It seems plain 
 that it is your vocation." 
 
 Louise shook her head. " That will be 
 just as mother thinks best," she said. " And 
 it depends on how well she feels, too. I 
 think she would rather have me keep on with 
 my studies for a while longer. But it is so 
 nice to know that I have something to turn 
 to if we need it, isn't it? " 
 
 " Indeed it is, dear." Mrs. Emory looked 
 admiringly at the bright face before her as 
 she spoke. " No girl should be without 
 a resource. I am proud of you both." The 
 childless woman passed out with a smile 
 that turned to a sigh as she thought of Mrs. 
 Haye's wealth in having two such daugh- 
 ters. 
 
 It was Christmas eve when Mrs. Haye 
 found herself once more at home, with her 
 girls quite matured and changed, but dearer 
 than ever as they hung over her, smothering 
 her with caresses. None of them could say 
 much in those first hours; their feelings 
 were too deep and real for noisy demonstra- 
 
 46
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 tion, but all their faces reflected what they 
 felt. 
 
 " You will not mind, will you, Mamsie 
 dear? " queried Louise, looking lovingly up 
 into the dear face, so long absent; u you 
 won't mind sleeping in our room, just for 
 to-night? Your room has been cleaned, 
 and it will not be ready for you until to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " I mind nothing, dear, so long as I am 
 with my girls again." 
 
 " It was just like a toothache all the 
 time, only I did not know it until I saw you, 
 you precious old darling!" cried Helen, 
 snuggling up closer to her mother as she 
 spoke. 
 
 That night the girls spent in an unused 
 third-story room, but they slept very little; 
 they were too much excited for such a com- 
 monplace thing as sleep. Finally, however, 
 it came, and it seemed only a minute later 
 when they were awakened by their mother's 
 voice beside them calling: 
 
 "Merry Christmas, girlies!" 
 47
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 Then the joy of it all came over them 
 that it was not a dream, but a blessed real- 
 ity; that they were motherless no longer; 
 that the sale was over and the surprise near 
 at hand. 
 
 They did not waste much time over 
 breakfast, although it was a holiday one 
 with an extra touch of niceness, for they 
 could hardly wait to give their present. 
 They began hurrying up and down stairs 
 so many times and with such an air of 
 having important business on hand that 
 Mrs. Have retired to the library to await 
 developments, wondering what they were 
 doing. 
 
 Presently they came flying in with rosy 
 cheeks and eyes sparkling with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " Now," said Louise as she fastened a 
 sprig of holly in her mother's dress and 
 Helen put one in her hair, " now, Mamsie, 
 we will escort you to your room." Louise's 
 voice fairly trembled as she put her moth- 
 er's arm through hers. 
 
 48
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 At the landing of the stairs Mrs. Haye 
 paused for breath, and Helen ran ahead 
 and opened a door from which a flood of 
 light streamed out. When she reached the 
 threshold the girls cried out together: 
 
 " Merry Christmas, Manisie! Happy New 
 Year! Bless you every day in the year! 
 Come in and sit down." 
 
 On the wall was a paper fresh with a 
 wealth of flowers and garlands; on the floor 
 was a plain olive carpet that gave a warmth 
 of coloring, and on which the furniture 
 showed up well, and in front of bureau and 
 bed lay fluffy white-fur rugs. The white 
 and gold bed had valance and pillow-shams 
 of dotted swiss; the bureau had a pretty new 
 lace covering; an enameled screen with silk 
 curtains hid the wash-stand from sight; a 
 divan running the length of the bow- window 
 was covered with cheery cretonne and piled 
 with cushions, and beside it stood a low 
 table, holding a work-basket and a vase of 
 spicy carnations; while on the walls hung 
 several framed flower studies; and in the 
 49
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 fireplace long unused crackled a wood- 
 fire on bright andirons. 
 
 Mrs. Haye advanced a step into the room, 
 caught her breath, looked around her in a 
 dazed sort of way, and then at the girls' 
 beaming faces. 
 
 " I do not understand quite " she said. 
 " What does this where did I mean 
 what has happened? " 
 
 In a second the girls were hugging her, 
 and had her seated and put in her lap a 
 bandbox. 
 
 " It was Santa Glaus who did it all," 
 said Helen roguishly. " He came down 
 your chimney, and no sooner had he seen 
 how dingy your room was than presto, 
 change! He left this box and note for 
 you." 
 
 Louise untied the knot for her moth- 
 er's fingers refused to do it and out of 
 the box Mrs. Haye lifted a handsome 
 bonnet. 
 
 "There! That is the note and the ex- 
 planation in one," cried Louise, dancing 
 
 50
 
 A MILLINERY OPENING 
 
 around her. " That is who, what, when, 
 where, and why! Your own little worthless 
 daughters did it, Mamsie dear, to show you 
 what they could do and the whole room is 
 made out of 
 
 " Hats," interrupted Helen, eager for a 
 word. 
 
 " Isn't it pretty? Don't you like it? " 
 
 " I chose the paper because you love wild 
 flowers." 
 
 " And I made all the cushions my- 
 self " 
 
 " O Mamsie, do you like it? " 
 
 They were both talking at once now, and 
 they broke off and looked expectantly at 
 their mother. 
 
 Not a single word said Mrs. Haye, and an 
 anxious frown began to gather on Louise's 
 face. Had all their work been for nothing? 
 Was she displeased? 
 
 Over each detail of the room, from ceil- 
 ing to floor, roved the mother's eyes again 
 as if trying to fix it in her mind as a ver- 
 ity. Then suddenly she gathered the girls 
 51
 
 in such a tight embrace that her face rested 
 on the two glossy heads. 
 
 "Little women!" she murmured, pride 
 and joy shining in her eyes and choking her 
 voice. "Blessed, darling little women! I 
 am rich indeed! " 
 
 52
 
 OTHELLO, JR.
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 IT was a year since the formation of the 
 Seaville Shakespeare Society, and the anni- 
 versary was to be celebrated with an un- 
 usually fine meeting. 
 
 The club members worked busily all the 
 morning in the old barn, until it was trans- 
 formed into a homelike clubroom. Flags 
 were draped across the haymows, strings of 
 lanterns were hung over the wide path lead- 
 ing from the front door, and in the carriage- 
 room beyond, the vehicles, decorated with 
 gay rugs and comfortables, were ranged 
 against the wall as seats for the members. 
 The stalls were also draped, and on the wall 
 hung a large engraving of Shakespeare. In 
 the center of the carriage-room stood a table 
 holding a lamp and the club-books, while the 
 president's seat, which was a sleigh, gor- 
 5 55
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 geously draped with turkey-red, was placed 
 by the farther end of the table. 
 
 " Pretty fine, isn't it? " Hal Griffith dis- 
 mounted from a step-ladder and stood, ham- 
 mer in hand, admiring the festive scene. 
 
 "Fine I should say so!" answered 
 Eliot Graves, while Mabel Wright and Alice 
 Griffith exclaimed, "Perfectly lovely!" and 
 Mabel added in her quiet way: "Dear old 
 Shakespeare, doesn't he look sweet, all 
 dressed up so? Bless him! " 
 
 " He looks like what he was, ' a scholar, 
 and a ripe and good one,' " said Hal enthusi- 
 astically, turning toward the door as he 
 spoke, and exclaiming, with a surprised lit- 
 tle whistle: 
 
 " Halloa, young man, who are you? " 
 
 In the doorway stood a small negro, his 
 hands deep in his ragged pockets, and his 
 bright eyes eagerly glancing at all that he 
 could see; not in the least abashed by the 
 size of the audience staring at him. 
 
 " I'se Mose Jenkins, an' my ma wash 
 clo'es fur yo' ma," he announced, adding, 
 
 56
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 "I want ter come in!" With which state- 
 ment he proceeded to seat himself tailor 
 fashion on the floor, and look around him. 
 
 " Dis yere's a mighty fine show," he an- 
 nounced coolly. " Gwine ter hab a cake- 
 walk? " 
 
 Mabel and the Myers giggled, but Hal 
 answered soberly: "No, not exactly. It is 
 the meeting of a club in honor of a man 
 whom we are very fond of, William Shake- 
 speare, a great dramatist. Did you ever 
 hear of him? " 
 
 Mose shook his woolly head. " Nebber 
 knowed no grammatist. Mus' be mighty 
 fine gemman ter hab dis yere. He lib in 
 dese parts? " 
 
 Hal was laughing so hard that Alice had 
 to answer. 
 
 " No," she said. " He died long before 
 you were born." 
 
 " How missy knows? I'se mighty ole 
 nigger!" Mose's eyes were twinkling with 
 delight at having a discussion with such a 
 pretty lady. 
 
 57
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 " Well," said Alice severely, " I know be- 
 cause I do, that is how, Mose, and you don't 
 look as if you were more than a hundred 
 years old." 
 
 Mose chuckled, watching her admiringly 
 as she continued. 
 
 " Shakespeare wrote some very wonder- 
 ful plays, and for years and years people 
 have been acting them. Do you know what 
 that is? " 
 
 The little fellow nodded. " I reckon! " he 
 said. " Fse done acted heap o' time. I'se 
 run away ter see minstrel show, an' den I 
 hab 'em in de woods and sing an' dance aw- 
 ful libely. Missy like ter see me dance? " 
 
 Up he got, and began a regular planta- 
 tion breakdown, with all the most approved 
 shuffles and contortions, doubling and twist- 
 ing as if he were made of india-rubber, at 
 the end of which performance he sank down, 
 breathless, while Hal remarked: 
 
 " But you haven't told us yet why you 
 came down here without being asked, 
 Mose." 
 
 58
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 Mose rolled his eyes. " Fetched de shirts 
 home fo' yo' ma, an' I seed missies totin' 
 flowers, an' follered 'em. It's no fun home. 
 Nothin' 'cept littP niggers 'round. It's 
 mighty fine yere! " 
 
 This was said very wistfully, but no one 
 paid any attention, for just then the dinner 
 bell was heard in the distance, and all were 
 hungry after their hard work. There was 
 a general rush from the barn, but the small 
 negro did not move, and Hal, who was impa- 
 tient to shut the door, said severely: " Come 
 along, Mose, your time's up." 
 
 The boy's lip quivered; he caught hold of 
 Alice's dress and looked up pleadingly. 
 
 " Please, missy," he teased, " kin I come 
 to de party? I'se crazy ter fin' out 'bout de 
 minstrel man! " 
 
 Alice glanced at Hal. " May he? " she 
 asked. " I don't see what harm he would 
 do." But Hal was firm. 
 
 " Let a colored boy come where our own 
 mothers wanted to and weren't let? Not 
 much!" But seeing the boy's real disap- 
 59
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 pointment he added kindly: " I'm sorry, lit- 
 tle chap, perhaps some day you can come to 
 a meeting!" And Alice patted him on the 
 head, adding: "And I'll go to see you very 
 soon. Tell me where you live." 
 
 " Down Thompson's lane in de little red 
 house." Mose's voice was almost sulky, 
 but Alice appeared not to notice it. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she said cheerily, " I know. 
 Well, you will see me there soon. Good- 
 by! " And off she and Hal went toward the 
 house, leaving Mose turning around and 
 around on his bare heels in the dusty road 
 and looking very wistful. 
 
 The Griffiths had been brought up on 
 Shakespeare, and in their home his charac- 
 ters were just as much real persons as were 
 Washington, Mary, Queen of Scots, or the 
 Old Testament heroes. All four of the chil- 
 dren had a decided taste for acting, and 
 when they were scarcely old enough to un- 
 derstand the meaning of the words they 
 were repeating, would gather in the garret 
 and go through whole scenes from the 
 
 60
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 Shakespeare plays, dressed in costumes im- 
 provised by an interested mother. By de- 
 grees they inspired their friends with a like 
 interest, and at last eight new actors had 
 joined the garret troupe, who acted the 
 scenes they had studied with an abandon 
 and fire which many older actors lack. En- 
 thusiasm having reached its highest pitch, 
 the natural result was a Shakespeare club, 
 with blue-satin badges and frequent meet- 
 ings, and during the year of its existence the 
 club had been an immense success. Hal, 
 being the senior member, was president, 
 with Mary Watkins for secretary, while 
 among the other members were the two 
 Myers boys, George and Harry, who always 
 wanted to take funny parts; Mary Sinclair; 
 shy Estelle Hardy; Eliot Graves, a very 
 dignified fellow, who loved tragic roles, 
 and as Hamlet was the star of the group; 
 Kalph and Edith Sewall, next-door neigh- 
 bors of the Griffiths; sweet little Mabel 
 Wright; and the other three Griffiths, Amy, 
 Walter, and Alice, the last really an unusu- 
 61
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 ally good little actress in whatever role she 
 took. 
 
 Promptly at eight o'clock on the anni- 
 versary evening they marched into the barn 
 where the rows of lanterns threw fantas- 
 tic shadows into the corners and over the 
 hay. They filed in two by two, the president 
 leading, brilliant in his gown of scarlet and 
 white. Solemnly he mounted his seat, while 
 the others arranged themselves in the row 
 of boxes. Then with a rap of his baton the 
 meeting came to order. The secretary 
 called the roll and read the report of the 
 last meeting, after which she announced 
 that there would be a speech by the presi- 
 dent, who rose slowly, adjusted the folds of 
 his gown, cleared his throat, and began: 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, fellow members 
 with me in the greatest living troupe of 
 Shakespearian actors [great applause], we 
 are gathered here to celebrate the birth of 
 our club, which took place just twelve 
 months and three hours ago, to be strictly 
 accurate. Since then, and I say it mod- 
 
 62
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 estly, we have become famous. We have 
 never missed a regular meeting, have al- 
 lowed no other pleasures to interfere with 
 the club work, and have done all in our 
 power to interest others in our great mas- 
 ter and his work. We have acted parts of 
 many of the most famous plays, thus adding 
 to the intelligence of the community, and 
 from association in our charmed circle 
 many intimacies have been brought about, 
 which would have seemed impossible. For 
 instance, Shylock and Queen Katharine are 
 often to be found studying algebra from the 
 same book, Portia and Julius Caesar enjoy 
 frequent bicycle rides together, while Car- 
 dinal Wolsey and Cleopatra are bosom 
 friends. [Laughter and applause.] This 
 state of harmony and good-fellowship, dear 
 friends, was not brought about even in 
 Shakespeare's own time, when these charac- 
 ters had no affinity whatever. So we may 
 without conceit render honor where honor is 
 due, and be proud of ourselves [Ap- 
 plause and cries of " Hear! Hear! "] And 
 
 63
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 Hal continued, with a flourish of his deco- 
 rated arm : " Now, friends, we have a glori- 
 ous page of history behind us, let us go from 
 glory unto greater glory and make the new 
 year add not only to our fame, but to that 
 of our great honorary member, William 
 Shakespeare. Three cheers for him, friends! 
 One, two, three now ! " 
 
 Through the rafters and corners of the 
 big old barn echoed prolonged cheers; after 
 which Hal announced that the meeting was 
 open for discussion as to what play should 
 be given for a grand public ending of the 
 season. 
 
 He sat down, and Eliot Graves at once 
 suggested giving Julius Caesar. 
 
 " Oh, no," Alice said quickly. " Let's 
 have Borneo; that is simply lovely to act." 
 
 " I think the Merchant of Venice would 
 be much better," said Edith Sewall, but Hal 
 shook his head. " There are too many char- 
 acters in it; but for that matter, so there are 
 in all of the plays." 
 
 " I tell you what," broke in George 
 64
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 eagerly, " why not have parts of several 
 plays? That will give us each a chance to 
 shine in our crack role, and won't be half so 
 hard, for we can take just one act, or a 
 scene, as we choose." 
 
 This idea met with instant approval, and 
 was decided upon at once. Mary then sug- 
 gested that the performance be given in a 
 clearing in the woods to the right of the 
 barn. It was a regular little amphitheater, 
 closed around by fragrant pines, carpeted 
 with their needles, and would seat a much 
 larger audience that the house or barn. 
 
 " Oh, won't it be ideal! " exclaimed Edith 
 impulsively. " With the birds and the 
 clouds so Shakespearian!" 
 
 " Particularly if it happens to be a rainy 
 day, or damp, and the mosquitoes are in trim 
 for a picnic ! " said George, adding dramat- 
 ically: " Is it a dagger that I see before me? 
 Nay, man, 'tis but a venomous skeet! " 
 
 All were laughing at his action and ex- 
 pression, when a noise as of some heavy 
 thing falling came from above. Then there 
 
 65
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 was a groan, a chuckle, a smothered scream 
 from beneath a pile of sliding hay, and a 
 small black figure shot out to the edge of 
 the haymow and clutched wildly at the side- 
 beam. 
 
 "Mose!" was the general exclamation, 
 as the boys ran to his rescue, for the small 
 negro was still in imminent danger of falling. 
 Scrambling up over the hay, George and 
 Eliot crawled out to the edge, captured the 
 one foot sticking up through the hay, and by 
 it dragged the intruder back to safety. 
 
 "You young rascal, you!" exclaimed 
 George as they jumped down and shook the 
 hay out of their clothes. " Come along and 
 explain this!" He tried to say it severely, 
 but Mose must have seen the little smile 
 lurking around the corners of his mouth, for 
 he followed his rescuers with a merry grin, 
 saying with a chuckle, " Mos' fell on de gem- 
 mens' haids! " 
 
 " Indeed you did, and I don't think you 
 deserved to be caught. Did you forget I 
 said you could not come? " Hal spoke in his 
 
 66
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 most impressive, presidential manner, and 
 Mose answered sheepishly: 
 
 " Yes, massa, I 'members. I'se feelin' 
 terribul sorry, 'deed I do, but yo' see it's so 
 fine yere dat, clar ter goodness, I can't stay 
 home. I'se hangin' roun' de do', an' de win- 
 der wuz up " here Mose laughed with pleas- 
 ure at his own recital; " in I dim', an' I sez, 
 young massa he so kin', he let Mose sit on 
 de hay an' year 'bout de minstrel man. Den 
 de cheerin' done shake de roof mos' off, an' 
 clar ter goodness, it mos' shake me down on 
 de gemmens' haids!" 
 
 Thoroughly pleased with his explana- 
 tion, and with himself, Mose looked around 
 at Alice for approval, adding: 
 
 " Please, missy, kin I be in dis yere club? 
 I'se mighty handy, I is." 
 
 " Why, Mose," answered Alice, " you 
 don't deserve it, do you? Suppose you had 
 a party and I should go when you didn't 
 want me, how would you feel?" 
 
 Mose smiled. " Dar wouldn't nebber be 
 no party w'ere Mose wouldn't want missy, 
 67
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 an' dat's de trufe!" he said so gallantly 
 that a titter went around the room, and 
 Alice had to bite her lips to keep from 
 laughing. 
 
 " Well," she said, " that is very kind of 
 you, but you see this was different. We 
 didn't want you here. Now are you sorry 
 that you were so rude? " 
 
 " Yes, missy." Mose's tone was that of a 
 penitent, and Alice followed up her advan- 
 tage, adding hastily, " And you won't ever 
 do it again? " 
 
 This was too much. For a moment Mose 
 evaded her glance, then he looked at her 
 squarely and said boldly: 
 
 " Better not leab de winder up; I'se pow- 
 erful lonesome, an' dat's de trufe! " 
 
 Alice and Hal exchanged glances, and 
 Hal's face expressed admiration for the lit- 
 tle fellow's candor. 
 
 " All right, Mose," he said gravely. " We 
 are greatly disappointed in you; that is all. 
 Nice boys don't sneak in like that. Miss 
 Alice thought better of you." 
 
 68
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 This last sentence had the desired effect. 
 After an evident struggle with himself Mose 
 began to twist around on his toes, and 
 finally said: 
 
 " I'se not comin' no mo'." He looked so 
 dejected, however, that Alice's tender heart 
 could not bear it, and she whispered to Hal, 
 who said: 
 
 " So long as you are sorry, Mose, and 
 won't do it again, you may sit down now for 
 the rest of the meeting; but don't make any 
 noise." 
 
 Mose's face was instantly a broad smile 
 from the tip of one black ear to the other. 
 " Massa's mighty good! " he exclaimed, drop- 
 ping into his favorite position on the floor, 
 from which he never moved during the re- 
 mainder of the meeting, and even when it 
 had adjourned it was with great reluctance 
 that he betook himself homeward. When 
 he was really out of sight at last, there was 
 a shout of laughter. 
 
 "If he isn't the greatest!" said Eliot. 
 " A regular young sticking-plaster." 
 
 69
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 "Well," said Edith, "if I am not mis- 
 taken, he is a pretty bright young man. I 
 watched him when we were all talking, and 
 he seemed as intelligent as could be; in fact, 
 I've taken a great fancy to his majesty! " 
 
 " Why not elect him a member? " said 
 Alice, laughing; " clerk of errands, page, or 
 something of that sort? Just for fun. 
 There will be ever so many odd jobs to be 
 done in connection with the plays. It will 
 be such sport to see how he behaves! Come 
 on, do!" 
 
 There was a general demur, but it was 
 quickly overruled by Alice, who generally 
 managed to have matters go as she wished, 
 and when the vote was taken it was unani- 
 mous in favor of the new member. Accord- 
 ingly, the next morning Hal wrote a formal 
 note of invitation addressed to Moses Jen- 
 kins, Esq., who celebrated its reception by 
 a series of somersaults, chuckles, and 
 spasms of laughter, after which he set off 
 on a run for the Griffiths. He found Alice 
 and Amy on the piazza, and amused them 
 
 70
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 greatly by dashing up the carriage drive, 
 bounding up the steps, and grasping Alice 
 by both hands while he exclaimed wildly: 
 
 " I'se glad, missy, Fse glad! I'se glad! 
 I'se gwine ter nebber git tuckered out totin' 
 fur yo', 'deed I ain't! Wen's de nex' meet- 
 in', missy? " 
 
 When told that it was to be on the fol- 
 lowing day his joy was so great that he was 
 obliged to stand on his head for a few sec- 
 onds to calm his feelings. 
 
 Alice's interest in the little fellow, whose 
 admiration of her was so evident, was deep 
 enough to take her on an exploring expedi- 
 tion to Thompson's lane the very next morn- 
 ing, where she found the little red cabin 
 without any trouble. It stood in a clearing 
 by the roadside, fully a mile from any other 
 building, surrounded on three sides by sol- 
 emnly impressive trees, and the place pre- 
 sented such an appearance of disorder that 
 Alice's tidy soul revolted from even going 
 up to the door. 
 
 But as Mose was not in sight, she picked 
 6 71
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 her way through the accumulation of milk- 
 cans, babies in soap-box perambulators, and 
 household belongings with which the entire 
 space in front of the cabin was filled, and 
 discovered Mrs. Jenkins doing some wash- 
 ing at the side of the house. 
 
 The good-natured-looking woman took 
 her hands out of the suds and balanced them 
 on her broad hips, while she smilingly shook 
 her head in answer to Alice's inquiry for 
 Mose. 
 
 " Dunno, miss," she said. " Dat boy he 
 like a flea! Smartest boy eber yo' seed; he 
 read de spellin'-book an' de Bible clean fro! 
 Da he is now! Hello, yo' Mose, yo', yere's 
 de lady dat yo' done talked 'bout all day, 
 come ter see yo'. Step libely now, an' mind 
 yo' manners! " 
 
 Through the woods came Mose, whistling 
 shrilly, but at sight of Alice he stopped 
 short and the broad smile of delight which 
 overspread his face more than repaid her 
 for her visit. 
 
 For a few moments she attempted to talk 
 72
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 with mother and son, but Mrs. Jenkins led 
 the conversation, a baby fell out of its soap- 
 box, and had to be soothed and played with, 
 so Alice finally proposed that Mose walk 
 home with her, seeing that in no other way 
 could she become acquainted with the boy. 
 He assented to the proposition with alac- 
 rity, and as they strolled slowly through 
 the beautiful wood road Alice found it an 
 easy matter to lead him into talking of him- 
 self. He was older than he seemed; in fact, 
 was almost fourteen, and for three years 
 had been to the district school, but had been 
 taken out to help at home when his mother 
 had the chills and fever. After that it was 
 felt that his education was complete, and 
 when he begged to go back to school, a few 
 severe " wallopings," as he called them, had 
 reduced him to obedience. With a sparkle 
 of real delight in his eyes, he told how he 
 had mastered fractions, could spell words of 
 three syllables, and had read just enough 
 history to make him hunger for more. 
 
 " It's mighty fine w'en dose ole kings an' 
 73
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 stuck-up wite folks gets callin' names an' 
 cuttin' off haids, ain't it, missy? " he said 
 with enthusiasm, adding eagerly : " Mebbe 
 I'se gwine ter fine out mo' 'bout dem some 
 day; I reckon dis yere club's gwine ter make 
 me right pert. You'se got heap o' learnin'! " 
 
 When it was discovered where Alice had 
 been she was teased unmercifully about her 
 protege, but she paid no attention to the 
 jokes made at her expense, and went calmly 
 on, laying her plans to help Mose in his 
 eager pursuit of knowledge. 
 
 Meanwhile the committee had been hard 
 at work making their program for the festi- 
 val. Then came the difficult task of assign- 
 ing parts. Each member scorned the one 
 offered to him or her, preferring another 
 that every one else was sure some other per- 
 son would take much better. It really 
 seemed as if the matter would never be 
 peacefully settled, but finally Hal came to 
 the rescue, with his ready tact, adjusted the 
 differences, and calmed the excited dispu- 
 tants. For the next four weeks nothing but 
 
 74
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 costumes and stage matters were talked 
 about or thought of, and at all hours of the 
 day distracted actors were to be met mur- 
 muring their lines or reciting to one an- 
 other for criticism. 
 
 It was, of course, a matter of necessity to 
 consult mothers, for there was much finery 
 to be planned and made up. Mr. Griffith 
 was also admitted into the secret counsel as 
 chief adviser. He was by profession an 
 artist, and it had been on account of his fail- 
 ing health that the family had moved from 
 their city home to the farm just outside the 
 well-known resort of Farwell. In this quiet, 
 picturesque spot he had found the rest and 
 change that he needed, but he was not yet 
 working hard again, so he had plenty of time 
 to help the children with his clever ideas 
 and nimble fingers, and being at heart as 
 much of a boy as his sons, entered deeply 
 into the spirit of the affair. Mrs. Griffith 
 suggested that they ask an admission fee 
 and give the proceeds to charity, which sug- 
 gestion they liked immensely, but could not 
 
 75
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 come to any decision as to an object. They 
 had all assisted very recently at a Fresh- Air- 
 Fund Fair, and there seemed to be no other 
 charity on which they could agree. So at 
 last they decided to ask twenty-five cents a 
 ticket, and simply state that it was to be 
 used for the charity fund of the club. 
 
 Mose proved himself a perfect treasure. 
 He did the odd jobs and errands of the club, 
 sold tickets, and hammered and painted to 
 his heart's content, becoming very proud of 
 the frequent calls: "Where is Mose? Mose, 
 come here! Where is that boy?" 
 
 Besides doing so many chores, he man- 
 aged to have time for all of the rehearsals, 
 which were his delight. Hamlet and Othello 
 were his favorite plays, and he became so 
 familiar with their scenes and situations 
 that he frequently retired to the woods and 
 rehearsed them for the benefit of a large au- 
 dience of birds and squirrels. He asked 
 Alice so many impossible questions about 
 the past and future of the characters that 
 in self-defense she gave him an old volume 
 
 76
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 of the plays. This he pored over at home 
 until his father threatened him with having 
 to drop his new comrades entirely, after 
 which he was careful to read only when the 
 babies were asleep and the wood-pile was 
 full. 
 
 Scenes from six plays were to be given, 
 and as the number of actors was so small 
 compared to the number of parts to be taken, 
 each person was obliged to appear in a va- 
 riety of roles, and the actors found it ex- 
 tremely difficult to remember which words 
 went with which play. 
 
 The dress rehearsal went badly, very 
 badly indeed. Antony had to be prompted 
 continually, Romeo and Juliet disputed so 
 violently over expressions and gestures that 
 Mr. Griffith had to step in to settle the 
 combat, and worst of all, Walter Griffith, 
 otherwise Othello, had such a sore throat 
 that he could not appear at all, so the pros- 
 pect for the next day was anything but 
 cheering. 
 
 " Oh, dear! " groaned Hal. " Whatever 
 77
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 shall we do? It is going to go all wrong. I 
 know it, and no one will come! " 
 
 " And it looks as if it were going to rain 
 in torrents," added Eliot dolefully. Mary 
 drew her face down in imitation of Hal's 
 pathetic expression, as she answered mock- 
 ingly: 
 
 " Yes, it's going to pour and nobody will 
 come and we'll all sit down and cry over it! 
 You old croakers, you, couldn't you be a 
 trifle less encouraging? If it does rain " 
 
 " Which it isn't going to," interrupted 
 Mabel, and Mary added pleadingly : " Come, 
 boys, do smile just once, to show that you 
 haven't forgotten how." 
 
 " We have sold a hundred tickets, and 
 those people will be sure to come," said 
 Estelle sagely. " It is going to be a grand 
 success I feel it in my bones! " 
 
 " Good luck to your bones," said Eliot, 
 smiling in spite of himself. Then he and 
 Hal went off, looking a little less mournful. 
 
 The next morning they were up and hard 
 at work so early that they could not tell 
 
 78
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 whether the day was going to be pleasant 
 or not, but the sun soon decided the ques- 
 tion by coming out red and full, the clouds 
 disappeared, and every one began to feel en- 
 couraged and in a good humor. Walter 
 worked bravely until after breakfast, when 
 he suddenly disappeared and was found ha- 
 stily retiring, announcing that " if all the 
 plays in the world went to smash, he couldn't 
 sit up another minute," which statement, 
 made by plucky Walter, showed that he 
 must feel pretty sick. Consternation was 
 visible on every face, as the troupe hurried 
 off to the barn to talk it over. 
 
 "Well," said Hal, after a half-hour of 
 fruitless discussion, " there really isn't any- 
 thing to do but to leave the whole scene out. 
 It is hardest for Walter, poor chap! Come 
 on, we had better begin to get ready for the 
 other acts. It is almost noon now." 
 
 Just as they were filing sadly off Mose 
 appeared. He had been to the woods, and 
 his arms were filled with boughs and clem- 
 atis vines to decorate the stage. 
 
 79
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 " I say, Mose, what do you think? " 
 
 Hal's voice was so doleful that Mose 
 stared at him. 
 
 " Othello is sick in bed; it's a light case 
 of tonsillitis, mother says, and we can't 
 have his act at all. How is that for hard 
 luck?" 
 
 Dropping his burden, Mose put his hands 
 in his pockets and exclaimed sympathet- 
 ically, " Sho' nuff, massa!" Then, quick as 
 a flash, he turned a somersault, bounded 
 over to Alice, and fairly pulled her toward 
 the house. 
 
 " Come quick, missy," he said pleadingly. 
 " I'se gwine tell yo' somefln. Come, missy, 
 come!" And Alice allowed herself to be 
 led to the house, where she listened to the 
 tale that he poured out in an eager torrent 
 of words, while the others went back to 
 work. 
 
 When he finished Alice's eyes were 
 bright with excitement, and she brought her 
 mother, whose patient was now asleep, to 
 join the consultation. Mrs. Griffith, after 
 
 80
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 asking a few questions, seemed as pleased 
 and eager as Alice. 
 
 "Good!" she said. "Capital! It will 
 give the audience a hearty laugh." 
 
 She had scarcely finished the sentence be- 
 fore the excited couple were out on the lawn 
 again, talking hard and fast to the group 
 gathered around them. 
 
 From that moment the drooping spirits 
 of the company revived. Mose flew here and 
 there with the rapidity of a top, Mrs. Griffith 
 hastily made changes in a many-colored cos- 
 tume, and then came the last flurry of prep- 
 aration. 
 
 In the grove a wide curtain had been 
 stretched before the stage from one tree to 
 another; from the left, side curtains made 
 an exit into the woods behind, while to the 
 right, by means of hangings, a covered way 
 had been made to the barn dressing-rooms. 
 
 Almost all of the seats were filled, when 
 
 the sound of a horn was heard and a drag 
 
 came in sight, filled with a gay crowd of 
 
 strangers from Farwell. They laughed and 
 
 81
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 jested as they dismounted, and evidently 
 considered the whole affair a huge joke. 
 Behind the drag came a succession of small 
 vehicles from which so many people alighted 
 that Hal, who was looking through a crack 
 in the barn door, grew cold with fright. 
 
 "Where can they all sit?" said Mrs. 
 Griffith nervously, but her husband reas- 
 sured her. " There are plenty of rugs when 
 seats give out," he said, adding: " Come now, 
 my actors, do your prettiest for the honor 
 of Shakespeare! " 
 
 First on the program came a scene from 
 Julius Caesar, and when the curtain rose, 
 disclosing a painted thoroughfare with the 
 Eoman forum in the distance and in the 
 foreground the murmuring crowd of Roman 
 citizens, there was a burst of applause, 
 which so encouraged the actors that they 
 started off with flying colors. 
 
 The majestic speech made by Eliot as 
 Brutus when the body of Caesar is borne on 
 the stage was well received, and when Hal 
 as Marc Antony ended his famous harangue, 
 
 82
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 " Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me 
 your ears," the clapping was loud and con- 
 tinuous, while the hot and breathless gentle- 
 men in togas departed to the barn to receive 
 congratulations while they helped set the 
 next scene. 
 
 In it Estelle made an irresistible Juliet, 
 her gown of clinging white mull showing 
 her plump arms and neck, and with her hair 
 floating like soft clouds about her, as she 
 leaned from her balcony, at times almost 
 upsetting the step-ladder on which she 
 was perched. Ralph as Romeo wooed her 
 with firmness and persistency, and Juliet 
 grew tenderer and sweeter, holding her 
 audience quite spellbound until the cur- 
 tain fell. 
 
 Next came a scene from Henry VIII with 
 Alice as Queen Katharine; then the Myers 
 appeared as Pyramus and Thisbe. This 
 was their great act which made the hearers 
 weep with amusement and applaud so vig- 
 orously that the actors wanted to give it 
 again, but Mr. Griffith was firm. " Better 
 83
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 give them too little than too much," he 
 said. 
 
 So the castle interior was put up once 
 more, while Eliot hastily transformed him- 
 self into Hamlet. This was a part which he 
 was passionately fond of acting, and his only 
 regret was that there was time to give but 
 the one short scene. Mary, however, as 
 Ophelia, was so badly frightened that she 
 was only too thankful when it was over and 
 the applause told her that she had not 
 spoiled the effect by her mistakes, as she 
 had feared. 
 
 Following this scene came a brief inter- 
 mission, during which the actors clustered 
 around Mrs. Griffith, who was busily trans- 
 forming Moses Jenkins, Esq., into Othello, 
 the Moor of Venice, by means of gay dra- 
 peries and an impressive head-dress, Mose 
 assuming such an air of lofty and solemn 
 importance, that he seemed to grow taller 
 by the minute. The effect of the vivid dra- 
 peries was to throw into sharp relief the lit- 
 tle black face, and the small Moor under the 
 
 84
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 combined weight of his very heavy head- 
 dress and his great dignity was a comical 
 sight to behold. 
 
 " Isn't he the cutest, blackest thing? " 
 exclaimed Alice rapturously, as she joined 
 the group, in her Desdemona costume, while 
 Mrs. Griffith said hurriedly to Mose, " If you 
 forget, just look at me and I will prompt 
 you." 
 
 But Mose turned to her with a glance 
 of withering scorn. "Sho!" was all he 
 said, but the monosyllable was most ex- 
 pressive. 
 
 One moment more and the curtain rose, 
 disclosing the Venetian council room with 
 Ralph in duke's costume and Eliot as a sen- 
 ator seated by the table, while Hal as Bra- 
 bantio stood, Othello beside him. The 
 scene was very picturesque, as Mr. Griffith 
 had taken great pains with the coloring, and 
 the audience were so absorbed in noting the 
 general effect that not until Othello stepped 
 forward to confront his accusers did they 
 appreciate the humor of the situation. With 
 
 85
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 a stately bow of mingled defiance and meek- 
 ness, Othello began: 
 
 " Mos' potent, grave, and reverend si- 
 gniors " 
 
 There was a sudden spasm of surprise 
 visible among the colored portion of the au- 
 dience, while Mrs. Jenkins gave one wild 
 chuckle, "It's Mose! it's Mose!" then con- 
 tented herself with nodding to right and 
 left like a mandarin and giving occasional 
 quick bounces from her seat. The other 
 spectators listened with flattering stillness 
 while the sonorous sentences rolled from the 
 little black lips in unmistakable negro dia- 
 lect, but with a force and spirit which 
 showed that the boy was for the time far 
 removed from his own identity. He fairly 
 poured out his words in the eloquent 
 phrases mindful of rhythm and expression 
 to such a degree that the other actors ex- 
 changed quick glances of joy and pride. 
 
 The other parts were well taken, but 
 no one paid any attention to them. Othello 
 was the hero of the hour. When he stood 
 
 86
 
 Othello, Jr.
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 beside Alice as Desdemona, gazing at her 
 with rapturous devotion, her fairness em- 
 phasizing his blackness, and her musical 
 voice in sharp contrast to his thick one, the 
 audience were enchanted with the tableau, 
 and at the end of his farewell speech there 
 were such shouts of applause that to the 
 eager group behind the scenes it seemed as 
 if Booth himself could not have had a 
 greater ovation. 
 
 Finally, in response to repeated calls 
 Desdemona and Othello came before the cur- 
 tain, Desdemona's eyes brilliant with ex- 
 citement, her cheeks like peonies, as she 
 made a little speech. 
 
 " My friends," she said, " we are very 
 grateful to you for giving our performance 
 such warm appreciation, and we wish to tell 
 you that the part of Othello was to have 
 been taken by Mr. Walter Griffith. When, 
 on account of his illness, we had decided to 
 give up the scene, Mr. Moses Jenkins, who is 
 the junior member of our club, and who had 
 been present at our rehearsals, kindly vol- 
 7 87
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 unteered to take the part at four hours' no- 
 tice, and rendered it as you have seen it, 
 with but one hurried rehearsal." 
 
 Here the audience shouted and stamped 
 and applauded with all their might, and 
 Alice continued: 
 
 " Under the circumstances we feel sure 
 of your interest in this member of our club, 
 and also in the decision to which we have 
 just come, that, if he continues to be as 
 faithful in the future as he has been in the 
 past, and if his desire for knowledge does 
 not grow any less keen that it is at present, 
 Othello, Jr., will in the future represent our 
 club at Hampton, where his education will 
 be the result of our work from year to year. 
 In this way he may have the chance not only 
 of becoming an intelligent citizen, but of 
 fitly justifying his title of junior member of 
 the Seaville Shakespeare Society." 
 
 While Alice spoke Othello had never for 
 an instant ceased looking at her, but his eyes 
 grew larger and larger, and before she had 
 ended her last sentence, he was dancing 
 
 88
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 round and round her like a small whirlwind, 
 shouting, " Say, missy, say! Is dat de trufe? 
 Is I gwine ter hab schoolin' in a place yo' pa 
 done tole me 'bout? Say, missy, is I? Is 
 I? Is I?" 
 
 With each word he grew more wild, and 
 his mother's pride rebelled against such 
 antics in public. Rising, she stamped her 
 foot and waved her hand imperiously. 
 
 " Shet up, yo' Mose, yo'," she commanded. 
 " Min' yo' manners or yo'll git walloped." 
 
 The maternal voice brought Mose down 
 to the real facts of life with a cruel jerk, and 
 he became conscious that there were people 
 watching him. He slunk behind Alice in a 
 crestfallen manner, and would have darted 
 off the stage, if she had not held him there 
 until the applause stopped and the smiling 
 audience began to rise. Then as he and 
 Alice walked back to the barn, he grasped 
 her hand tightly with a solemn little smile. 
 " I'se mighty glad!" he said, and she knew 
 that he meant it. 
 
 That evening as they all sat together on 
 89
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 the piazza, they were a very tired and sub- 
 dued party, with the one exception of Mose, 
 whose spirits were apparently inexhausti- 
 ble. He whistled, he sang, he danced, he 
 stood on his head until he was forced to sit 
 down for a moment to catch his breath. 
 
 "Fifty dollars only think of it! It 
 seems too good to be true! It certainly was 
 a great, glorious, smashing success!" Hal 
 was saying. 
 
 " It certainly was," answered Eliot hap- 
 pily, "and such jolly fun, too! The only 
 thing I am afraid of is, that some of our mis- 
 takes would have made Shakespeare turn in 
 his grave if he had heard them." 
 
 " Well," said Mary, with her usual happy 
 philosophy, "we surely did the best we 
 knew how, and that's all any one can do! " 
 
 For a moment there was no sound except 
 the whirr of the crickets and distant tree- 
 toads; then every one smiled, as the still- 
 ness of the summer evening was broken by 
 a heavy snore. 
 
 Mose, worn out at last with the excite- 
 90
 
 OTHELLO, JR. 
 
 ment of the great day, had fallen asleep, as 
 quickly as he did everything, with his head 
 pillowed on the corner of Alice's dress. 
 
 Gently she laid her hand on his woolly 
 head, and turning, he murmured in his sleep: 
 
 " Mos' potent, grave, and reverend si- 
 gniors I'se mighty glad!" 
 
 91
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT
 
 JAMES BARKEKDING, KNIGHT 
 
 QUEEN BARKERDING was only a little 
 girl, with the brightest of snapping black 
 eyes and the curliest of black hair. She had 
 a round, merry face, although she never felt 
 the fresh air on it as other girls do, except 
 when her brothers made a chair of their 
 arms and carried her to the window or 
 out on the fire-escape platform, but this 
 was not often, for it hurt her back so 
 badly. 
 
 Her real name was Emma Christine, but 
 she had been called Queen for so long that 
 every one but her mother had forgotten that 
 she had another name. 
 
 It had come about in this way. One day, 
 
 when she and several of the other girls were 
 
 tired of all their old games and were trying 
 
 to think of a new one, an idea came to 
 
 95
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 Emma Christine. Clapping her hands, she 
 cried : 
 
 "I know, I know! Le's play I'm Queen, 
 an' you be grand ladies, an' do 'xactly what I 
 say! " 
 
 " An' play have lots of lovely clothes, an' 
 parties, an' make bows to you, an' say, ' All 
 hail, our Queen!' ' added one of the girls 
 who had been reading history. 
 
 " An' we'll get gold paper for a crown, 
 an' sing when we put it on, an' do things 
 like they do in books," said another. 
 
 "My, won't it be fun!" cried Emma 
 Christine, greatly excited. " That's why I 
 never get up and go out like you do, 'cause, 
 of course, a queen wouldn't be so silly. 
 She'd just sit still and be bowed at." 
 
 "Of course," assented the girls; and 
 from that small beginning of a game came 
 the imaginary life with which Emma Chris- 
 tine and her playmates from that time sur- 
 rounded themselves. The game soon be- 
 came a second life to them, and the queen a 
 real crowned person, who knew her power 
 
 96
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 and ruled them all, narrowly escaping being 
 spoiled by the loyal obedience of her sub- 
 jects. 
 
 The boys entered eagerly into the new 
 game, and did everything that the queen 
 commanded; for, crowned or uncrowned, she 
 was a great favorite, which made it much 
 easier for them to take the vow of obedi- 
 ence, which was the one rule of the game. 
 
 From an old book the girls learned to 
 call themselves ladies in waiting, and the 
 boys became knights, adding Sir to their 
 names; and in their search for manners and 
 customs to make the game more perfect 
 they learned, too, that as knights and ladies 
 they were the court of the Queen. So the 
 game grew. 
 
 It is a fine thing to be a queen much 
 nicer, of course, than to be just ordinary 
 every-day persons, even though you can not 
 have quite as much liberty as they; and I 
 am sure you will agree with me that Queen 
 Barkerding was very fortunate, though her 
 kingdom was only a ten-by-twelve room on 
 97
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 the fourth floor of a Second Avenue tene- 
 ment-house, her subjects were only her fam- 
 ily and friends, and, while the ladies and 
 knights all went to school and played out 
 of doors, she was obliged to lie still. 
 
 Born in a small country town, Queen's 
 first memories were of green grass and trees 
 and sweet-smelling flowers, of smiles on her 
 mother's face, and of merry frolics with her 
 big-boy father. Then came the time when 
 the father's voice was stilled and the mother 
 neither sang nor smiled; and it was after 
 this that they moved to New York, to the 
 rooms on Second Avenue, that the mother 
 might more easily find work by which to 
 support her delicate little girl and the boys. 
 Every day she went early to her place in the 
 paper-flower store; and if the tenement had 
 not been filled with respectable Germans, 
 whose children she was not afraid to have 
 Queen play with, the little lady might have 
 been very lonesome in the long hours; for 
 Jim and Fred, besides going to school, both 
 sold papers, as did most of the knights. But 
 
 98
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 as it was, Queen was always surrounded by 
 some of her court, the ladies taking turns in 
 tidying up her kingdom and staying with 
 her. 
 
 To the ladies she was adviser, comforter, 
 and friend; to the knights she was con- 
 science and manners as well as Queen, and 
 many a knotty question in morals they 
 brought to her to unravel, while in return 
 she made them teach her reading, writing, 
 and arithmetic as they learned them in 
 school. 
 
 She was a merry little majesty, as happy 
 as the strongest of her subjects, and this 
 was probably one of the secrets of her 
 power. In all of her short life she had never 
 been able to do as other children did, and it 
 never entered her head to fret because she 
 was unlike them. It was simply a matter 
 of course that her back was not quite 
 straight; why, she did not try to discover. 
 It was to her a beautiful thing that she 
 should be a queen, with so many loving sub- 
 jects; and, shut in as she was from outer life 
 
 99
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 and scenes, she lived mainly in a dream- 
 world peopled with gorgeously dressed royal 
 persons whom she ruled. To be sure, the 
 real ones were not elegantly dressed at all; 
 indeed, some of them wore very much 
 patched cast-off clothes; but that was where 
 the magic of the game came in it changed 
 tinsel into gold, and patches into velvet and 
 ermine. 
 
 It was the 1st of March, and a great 
 event was near the Queen's birthday; and 
 the court was in a wild excitement. There 
 was an air of secrecy about, which made 
 Queen's black eyes snap with anger, for the 
 knights refused to pay any attention to her 
 anxious questions, and the ladies spent their 
 time either whispering with heads together 
 in the corner or in exchanging glances and 
 signs which she did not understand. 
 
 " It's some mean old trick you're goin' to 
 play on me, I know," she said indignantly, 
 one day when the whole court were together 
 in her kingdom. " You can't fool me! Some 
 day you'll be very, very sorry, 'cause if you 
 100
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 don't look out I'll 'spell you all from court, 
 an' you can't ever come back again. Serve 
 you right, too!" 
 
 Jim and Emil Bruger exchanged looks of 
 alarm, for they were both of them barome- 
 ters, going up or down as Queen smiled or 
 frowned, and just then she looked like a 
 small hurricane. But one of the other 
 knights, Fritz Arme, called out: 
 
 " Hi yi ! Queenie's mad ! 
 
 An' I'm glad ! 
 An' I know what'll please her " 
 
 "What?" interrupted Queen, frowning. 
 " If you know, why don't you do it? " 
 
 Fritz made no answer, but nudged Jim, 
 and whispered in his ear: 
 
 " Make her just boilin' mad. The madder 
 she gets, the more s'prised she'll be." 
 
 The whole court took up this idea, and 
 the poor Queen's dignity was sorely tried for 
 a time, but meanwhile preparations for the 
 surprise were coming on finely. It was to 
 be a birthday party which would be daz- 
 zlingly elegant, and it was very hard to keep 
 101
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 it from Queen, for her ears were keen and 
 her eyes were all-seeing; but she did not sus- 
 pect a thing until the day when Jim came up 
 alone, sat down on the end of her bed, and 
 said, trying to look indifferent: 
 
 " I say, Queen, s'posin' we'd have a bully 
 big spread, like a real court, you know, and 
 all dress up swell, what'd you choose to eat? 
 Just s'posin' we might get rich, you know 
 I don't mean we're ever goin' to but if we 
 did " 
 
 Jim's face looked like a red-cheeked 
 apple when he got through, for he feared 
 that he had clumsily betrayed the secret. 
 
 Queen looked at him from under her long 
 lashes, then shut her eyes with a sigh. 
 "Wouldn't it be lovely?" she said. "I'd 
 have ice-cream, of course. It's kind of queer 
 for a Queen never to have ate any." 
 
 " 'Tain't much good," said Jim. " Fritz 
 had a swaller, an' he said 'twasn't only snow 
 with colors on it. I'd enuff sight rather have 
 gum an' peanuts." But Queen shook her 
 head. 
 
 102
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 " There's nothing I want like cream," she 
 said, " an' it seems as if it would be awful 
 hard to wait till I get to heaven I suppose 
 they have it every day there." 
 
 Just then Fred's head was thrust in at 
 the door. "Come along, Jim," he said; 
 "you're wanted." 
 
 From that minute Queen suspected what 
 was to happen, and she scolded no more at 
 the strange doings of her court, but quietly 
 lay and watched them, not letting them 
 think that she knew, dreaming a new dream. 
 
 " It'll be cream, 'cause I said so," she 
 mused. " Then I needn't be 'shamed any 
 more 'bout never eatin' it. Perhaps it'll be 
 pink an' green. How can I ever wait? " 
 
 It was the day before the celebration. 
 Everything was ready, and each of the court 
 had a very much thumbed list of eatables 
 promised, which they read over and over, as 
 if it might magically grow longer. Mrs. 
 Barkerding, always interested in the doings 
 of the knights and ladies, and more than 
 usually so in this, because it was to please 
 3 103
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 her little girl, had promised magnificent 
 promise! a quart of ice-cream as her part 
 of the feast; and at the flower-store she had 
 begged a dozen sheets of colored tissue- 
 paper, which were made into flowing capes 
 by cutting a hole in the middle of each for 
 a head to be put through. These clouds 
 of glory were carefully wrapped in a news- 
 paper and put under the mattress of Jim's 
 cot, while the crown and cape, made out of 
 new gold paper, for the Queen, were hidden 
 in one of the ladies' rooms. This is the way 
 the list of the presents read: 
 
 Mrs. B., Ice creem. 
 
 Sir Jim, Peenuts one doz. gum. 
 
 Sir Fred, One candel. Bottel to put it in. 
 
 Sir Emil, A 10 cent cake and candel. 
 
 Sir Fritz, 1 doz. jaw-breakers. 
 
 Sir Harry, 6 pop corn balls. 
 
 Sir Ned, Ginger cakes. 
 
 Ladies, Sticks peppermint 2 lemons, 
 paper napkens. 
 
 All of us gold paper. 
 
 The ladies could not give as largely as 
 104
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 the knights, because, not earning anything 
 themselves, their share of pocket-money was 
 smaller; but they had given their time, and 
 made all of the capes and the crown, and 
 felt that they had done their share. 
 
 " When we get all that together, and the 
 cream too, nobody could want nothin' bet- 
 ter, 'cept they asked for the earth," Jim said 
 rapturously when they read the list at their 
 last meeting in Emil's room and compared 
 it with the dainties spread out on the bed. 
 
 " Guess she'll most die when she sees the 
 cream," he added, as they carefully put the 
 feast away again, and separated with a few 
 last words and plans. 
 
 As Jim stood out in the hall a moment, 
 thinking of the next day's joy, his mother's 
 voice beside him made him look up. 
 
 " Jim," she said, " I've bad news for you." 
 
 Jim stuck his hands in his pockets, and 
 never moved his eyes from her face. 
 
 " Go ahead," he said. 
 
 " The rent must be paid to-morrow," she 
 said, " but that would have been all right if 
 105
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 they hadn't cut me down this month on 
 wages. We only knew about it to-day, but 
 work is so slack that they had to do it, they 
 say. Anyway, it will be all I can do, with 
 your paper money to help, to pay for Queen's 
 medicines and meet the rent, without giving 
 you the ice-cream." 
 
 Jim's face fell and he gave a gasp. 
 
 " Be brave, dear," she added. " There'll 
 be only ourselves disappointed, for Queen 
 doesn't know anything about it. It makes 
 me feel worse than it does you." 
 
 And Mrs. Barkerding went on up-stairs 
 quickly, to hide the moisture in her eyes and 
 the tremble in her voice, for to surround her 
 little Queen with comforts and luxuries was 
 her greatest longing, and an almost bitter 
 feeling was tugging at her heart-strings to 
 know that she could not given her even this 
 smallest pleasure. 
 
 Jim, meanwhile, below, gave way to un- 
 controllable anger. He was a fiery little 
 fellow, anyway very impulsive; and now 
 he was too disappointed to endure it. He 
 106
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 went out and kicked the foundation of the 
 house until he was dizzy, gave a small boy 
 who asked him an innocent question a cuff 
 on the head, and finally strode off in a white 
 heat of rage not against his mother, but 
 against the whole world. 
 
 " 'Twon't be a party 'twon't be no fun 
 'twon't be nothin' 'thout that; an' Queen'll 
 think it's comin' 'cause I asked her 'bout it. 
 I ain't a-goin'. Wisht I hadn't been such a 
 donkey. Wisht I had all the money that 
 feller has " as he passed a well-dressed 
 boy, and scowled at him under his hat-brim. 
 Then he tried to count up how much it would 
 cost to buy the cream himself. It would not 
 be possible. His long-cherished quarter had 
 been spent for the peanuts and gum and for 
 his share of the gold paper, and not another 
 cent would he have to spend, even with sell- 
 ing the next day's papers; for, as the man of 
 the family (he was eleven years old), he al- 
 ways turned in what he earned to help with 
 the rent. 
 
 That was a sad evening for the court. 
 107
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 The bad news spread quickly, but, though 
 they talked and talked, they could find no 
 way to buy the longed-for luxury, for they 
 had spent their all; so they went to bed with 
 the dreary feeling that, after all, the cele- 
 bration would be almost spoiled. 
 
 Poor Jim! he burned with red-hot rebel- 
 lion to think that his sister the Queen, his 
 idol could not have the grand surprise. In 
 school the next day he missed all of his les- 
 sons, and was so inattentive that his teacher 
 asked if he were sick. Jim shook his head 
 and tried to study, but all the letters on the 
 pages were jumbled together, and he could 
 not make himself think. As soon as school 
 was out he started off in the opposite di- 
 rection from home, with no particular rea- 
 son except to get as far away as possible 
 from the celebration. He sauntered along, 
 and then it occurred to him to look for a job, 
 but he could find no excuse for one. There 
 was no snow to shovel, no horse to hold; all 
 the stores were full of busy clerks " an' 
 everybody rich 'cept me!" he murmured. 
 108
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 For a short time he sat in Stuyvesant 
 Square watching the children; but that 
 troubled him, for they all seemed so happy. 
 He saw by the sky that it was growing late, 
 and that it was time for him to go for his 
 stock of evening papers; so off he trudged 
 down to his usual stand for them, and then 
 went over to the Madison Avenue cars, his 
 regular business district; but his sales were 
 not as brisk as usual he did not seem to 
 shove the other boys aside as forcefully, nor 
 call out as loud as they did. 
 
 Getting out of a car, he went down a side 
 street to follow up a possible customer, and 
 as he walked past the side fence inclosing 
 the garden of a large Madison Avenue house, 
 he stopped a minute to peer through the 
 iron pickets of the gate. While he stood 
 there a cart drew up, and the man, with a 
 "Hi, there, kid, clear the road!" jumped 
 down and passed through the gate, carrying 
 what made Jim's eyes grow large, his mouth 
 water, and his fingers ache to clutch a pail 
 of ice-cream. It was too much for flesh and 
 109
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 blood to stand. Those people didn't need it; 
 they probably had it every day. There it 
 was, left on the stone, right outside the 
 area door. There was not a person in sight 
 on the street, nor in the house, so far as 
 Jim could see; and no sooner had the idea 
 flashed into his mind than he was inside 
 the gate, and before he really knew that 
 he had thought of it, he found himself 
 running down the avenue, carrying the 
 pail, heavy as it was, and his remaining 
 papers. 
 
 No one noticed Jim as he hurried along. 
 
 His eyes sparkled, he was flushed with 
 excitement. Queen should have her birth- 
 day wish. It would all be beautiful, just as 
 they had planned. The court would be so 
 glad, and his mother well, at the thought 
 of his mother came an uneasy feeling. He 
 felt as if she were looking at him. Oh, dear! 
 he wished he had not thought of her, he was 
 so dreadfully uncomfortable. While his 
 impulse was hot within him he had not 
 thought at all he had simply acted. He 
 110
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 was cool now, and a voice was saying loudly 
 to Mm, "Thief! thief!" 
 
 The voice must have been in his mind, for 
 there was not a person near him when he 
 turned to look. He remembered once, when 
 he borrowed a marble from one of the boys 
 and was not going to return it, how scorn- 
 fully Queen had said: 
 
 " Stealers can't be in my court. Go give 
 it back! " And he had given it back. 
 
 Perhaps she would refuse to eat the 
 cream. Perhaps the court would punish 
 him. Dreadful thought! He set the pail 
 down on the sidewalk and tried to decide 
 what to do. The street-lamps were all 
 lighted, and whatever he did must be done 
 quickly. 
 
 " 'Twasn't stealin' 'twas just takin'," he 
 said to himself; but louder and louder he 
 heard the voice call "Thief! thief!" and a 
 finger seemed to point at him; while another 
 voice cried "Coward!" and that voice was 
 Queen's. 
 
 It was settled no knight should be 
 111
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 worthy of the name of coward. Up-town he 
 turned again, hurrying as fast as his heavy 
 load would let him. The longer he carried 
 the pail the more ashamed he grew, and 
 he felt as if every one knew that he was 
 not a great knight, but only a common 
 thief. 
 
 " If I just put it down in the yard and 
 run, it'll show I'm 'fraid, an' maybe they'll 
 be watchin' and catch me, an' put me in jail; 
 but if I ring the bell an' tell the lady, I won't 
 be a coward." 
 
 Obeying this idea, he walked boldly up 
 the broad steps of the great house and rang 
 the bell. The door opened, throwing a flood 
 of light on Jim, who winked and blinked, 
 and almost forgot what he wanted. 
 
 " What is it? " asked the elegant gentle- 
 man who opened the door. 
 
 Jim was sure he must be a real knight, 
 and was greatly awed. 
 
 " Could I might I I say, I want to see 
 the lady!" 
 
 The grave gentleman shook his head and 
 112
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 half closed the door, but catching sight of 
 the ice-cream pail, opened it again. 
 
 " Is it the ice you've got? Cook was for 
 'avin' a fit for fright that it wasn't here. 
 Take it down to the arey, boy. Don't you 
 know nothin'? " 
 
 " I know I'm a-goin' to see the lady," said 
 Jim, growing desperate. " 'Tis the cream, 
 but 'tain't only that it's something else; an' 
 please say it's Sir James Barkerding, the 
 Knight, that's here." 
 
 Jim looked up to see what impression 
 his title made on the gentleman, and it 
 seemed to him that he saw a smile pass over 
 the before grave face. 
 
 " Wait," he said, closing the door; and 
 after what seemed a very long time to Jim, 
 he came back. There was a twinkle in his 
 eyes as he announced: 
 
 " Mrs. Homer says Sir James can come 
 in." 
 
 Carefully removing his hat, and tak- 
 ing up the pail, Jim followed his guide 
 through miles and miles of long rooms, as 
 113
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 it seemed to him, and all of a sudden they 
 came to a room in fairy-land, where there 
 was a table all set with flashing things 
 of which Jim had never heard, and around 
 the table were sitting such beautiful ladies 
 and knights as he had read about. He 
 pinched himself to see if he really were 
 alive, and then he heard a laughing voice 
 say: 
 
 " Well, Sir Knight, what is your fair 
 pleasure? 'Tis not often we entertain the 
 peerage you do us a high honor. Do you 
 propose to share our humble fare? " 
 
 " Hush, Maurice, he does not understand 
 he only knows you are making fun of 
 him," said one of the ladies, the most beau- 
 tiful of all, Jim thought. She held out her 
 hand to him, and said, with a smile: 
 
 " Tell me your business quickly, my boy. 
 You see I am busy." 
 
 Every person at the table (and it seemed 
 to Jim there must have been a hundred, but 
 I think his eyes magnified) looked straight 
 at him. 
 
 114
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 The minute had come. There was no 
 backing out now. Jim cleared his throat. 
 
 " I stole your cream out of the back 
 yard," he said. " I'm sorry I stole, an' I 
 ain't a coward, or I'd ha' just put it down an' 
 run. Here 'tis." 
 
 Not a person spoke. Jim turned to go, 
 jamming his hat under his arm. Anyway, 
 it was over, and nothing had been said about 
 jail. 
 
 You could have heard a pin drop in that 
 room for the space of a second. Then the 
 lady pushed back her chair and went over to 
 Jim's side, laying a soft white hand, all 
 sparkling with lights, on his shoulder. 
 
 " I do not see," she said, " how you hap- 
 pened to bring it back. Tell me about it, 
 and how you came to have your title." 
 
 Then Jim told by degrees the whole story 
 of Queen and of her court, of his mother's 
 work, of the celebration, and of the tempta- 
 tion which came from his disappointment; 
 and when he had finished he saw such 
 friendly looks in the faces of all the ladies, 
 115
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 and the knights all got up and shook hands 
 with him so respectfully that he felt they 
 were old friends, and that he had always 
 lived in dreamland. He felt so more than 
 ever when the pretty lady handed him the 
 pail of cream just as he had brought it, and 
 a basket full of dainty things that she called 
 cakes, saying gravely: 
 
 " Give these to the Queen, dear, and tell 
 her that her brother is a true knight and not 
 a coward. This will be her nicest present." 
 Then following him to' the door, she put her 
 beautiful uncovered arms around his neck 
 just as if she had been his own mother, and 
 said: 
 
 "Brave little knight never do it again, 
 though! Tell Queen I will see her to-mor- 
 row." And before Jim knew it he was out 
 again on the avenue, but feeling oh, so dif- 
 ferent! Staggering with his heavy load, 
 he at last reached home and burst into the 
 room, breathless, having left his pail out- 
 side the door, just as the last remnants of 
 the feast were disappearing. The Queen 
 116
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 was dressed in the glittering cape and 
 crown, the green, yellow, pink, and blue 
 tissue-paper capes were all fluttering on the 
 ladies and knights, and the table, set right 
 by the throne Queen's bed had been gay 
 to look on, but now the candles were burn- 
 ing low in their bottle holders, the lemonade 
 was gone, and most of the ornaments of the 
 table were eaten up. In fact, Jim had come 
 too late. 
 
 As he ran in, his mother cried in a re- 
 lieved tone : " O Jim, where have you been 
 how could you worry me so? " 
 
 " We waited till we couldn't wait any 
 longer," said Sir Emil severely. 
 
 " But you spoiled all the fun, anyway," 
 said the Queen in her most dignified voice. 
 " If I'd been you, I'd have waited till my 
 Queen's birthday was over to act like that! " 
 
 " I say," said Jim, " just hold on a min- 
 ute!" And he said it in such a curiously 
 important tone that they all looked at 
 him and discovered how red his face was. 
 And then, while all the court gathered 
 117
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 around him, with mouth and eyes wide 
 open, he told half of his wonderful fairy 
 story. Then he looked at Queen, whose 
 eyes were as bright as new silver dollars, 
 and he said, with a mournful expression on 
 his face: 
 
 "Just to think, Queen, you might have 
 had that cream 'twould have been as ele- 
 gant as the rest was. I'm awful sorry! " 
 
 " I ain't," said Queen, waving her hands 
 majestically. " I ain't. I'd ha' been choked 
 with the old stuff. I hate stealers. Any- 
 way, I don't want some so very much now 
 it's all been lovely." This was said rather 
 wistfully, and Jim's eyes gleamed. 
 
 "You don't, don't you?" In his delight 
 his voice was high and shrill. "Just you 
 wait!" And going out, he dragged in his 
 treasures and set them on the table. 
 
 "There, now," he said, "you've got to 
 want it. She sent it to you, an' she's comin' 
 to see you to-morrer! " 
 
 Then what a hubbub there was! Every 
 one was so excited, and so happy, and it 
 118
 
 JAMES BARKERDING, KNIGHT 
 
 seemed as if they would drown Jim in a sea 
 of questions. 
 
 Mrs. Barkerding brought her lamp and 
 put it on the table, then got clean plates, 
 and the celebration was begun all over 
 again in a blaze of glory, lasting long 
 after the Queen's usual hour for going to 
 bed; but as it was such a very great occa- 
 sion, her mother had not the heart to say a 
 word. 
 
 But to Queen the best part of the whole 
 surprise was after the knights and ladies 
 had all left, with a big cheer for the Queen 
 and for the court, when just her mother and 
 the boys were there, and Jim told the beau- 
 tiful lady's other message to Queen, while 
 Mrs. Barkerding's face beamed with pride in 
 her boy, who was, after all, so true a knight. 
 
 And long after the little room was dark 
 and still, except for the noise in the street 
 below, Queen lay wide awake, living it all 
 over again, and saying to herself with happy 
 satisfaction: 
 
 "She's comin' to-morrer to-morrer!" 
 9 119
 
 SAL: HER STORY
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 "No!" she said slowly and emphati- 
 cally. " No, Sal ain't a-goin'." 
 
 " Shut up, kid ! " retorted Jerry angrily. 
 " I says yer be, an' there ain't goin' to be no 
 row 'bout it nuther. What I say, I mean, or 
 I take it out o' yer bones. D'ye hear? " 
 
 The child did hear most decidedly, for in 
 his rage her brother was fairly shouting; but 
 she stood irresolute, shaking her head, with 
 the toe of one dilapidated boot crossed over 
 the other, which position she occasionally 
 reversed, while she kept her earnest eyes 
 fixed in an odd sort of fascination on Jerry's 
 face. 
 
 " Sal wants ter stay here," she an- 
 nounced finally in a low, half -awed tone; 
 " Sal ain't a-goin'." 
 
 " Want ter stay here, do yer? " sneered 
 123
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 the man. " Well, so do I want a gold-mine, 
 but 'tain't lyin' round loose. You'll shake 
 that ugly mug o' your'n off ef yer ain't care- 
 ful. Look here, Sal, no more nonsense. Ef 
 yer didn't choose ter get stuck fer it, what 
 made yer fool with my orgin? Jest put on 
 yer duds at crack o' dawn to-morrer or it'll 
 be the worst fer yer. No more vittles or 
 foolin' with Tip ef yer don't. Come, mind 
 that now! " 
 
 Jerry started away, considering the mat- 
 ter settled, but in an instant Sal had flown 
 at him with the fury of a little tiger. 
 
 "No! no! .no!" she repeated, as she 
 rained blows on his arms, his chest, his hips, 
 anywhere they happened to alight. " Bad 
 man, bad Jerry! Sal will stay here Sal 
 hates Jerry! No, no, I ain't a-goin', I ain't, 
 I ain't!" 
 
 There was something in the absolute 
 frenzy of the usually quiet child that 
 changed Jerry's anger into good humor; it 
 amused him, for he was a man who liked 
 to torment anything, whether a fly or a 
 124
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 human being, and he laughed as he shook 
 her off. 
 
 "Spunky, ain't ye?" he said roughly. 
 "Stop makin' hash o' me, young wildcat! 
 'Tain't no good; the more ye kicks the worst 
 fer ye. To-morrer we go. Mind, say yes! " 
 
 She did not answer at once, and an evil 
 look came into Jerry's face. Taking her 
 arms and pinning them to her sides with his 
 stronger ones, he stared at her fiercely. 
 
 "Say it!" he shouted. "Say yes," and 
 Sal, terrified, could do nothing less. When 
 he had heard her answer Jerry released her 
 and strode off, slamming the door with such 
 force that the whole building trembled. 
 
 There were only the two of them, big 
 Jerry and little Sal, for in Sal's recollection 
 there had been no parent to command or 
 caress her, but she did not miss that which 
 she had never known, and was not lonesome 
 for the mother and father of whom she had 
 no memory. 
 
 When she began to notice faces, those of 
 the Murphys were around her, for from the 
 125
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 day when the two orphans were left alone in 
 the sixth story back in Mackintyre Court, 
 and Jerry, then a great overgrown fellow 
 of eighteen, had decided to go out and shift 
 for himself, kind-hearted Mary Murphy had 
 taken upon herself the care of the orphan 
 baby, sharing with it since then her scanty 
 fare and crowded rooms as if it had been 
 her own kin. This she did from pure kind- 
 ness, for the trifling sums of money which 
 Jerry gave her from time to time in no way 
 rewarded her for her care of the child, but 
 to this Jerry paid no heed. If Mrs. Murphy 
 chose to take what he gave her, well and 
 good; if not, it was her lookout, not his, and 
 he was utterly uninterested in the welfare 
 of his small sister. Being an organ-grinder, 
 he found food and lodging wherever he 
 chanced to be, and so came seldom to the 
 court, where his rare appearances were 
 dreaded by every one, particularly by Sal, 
 who was afraid of the large, fierce-looking 
 man who seemed only to live to find fault 
 with her. 
 
 126
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 But as he was often absent for months at 
 a time, Sal was usually happy. She was an 
 odd little soul, generally speaking of herself 
 in the third person, and of other people and 
 things in as few words as possible. For the 
 rest, she was very homely, with a thatch of 
 straight black hair standing out over her 
 deep-set blue eyes, a queer little snub nose, 
 and a merry twinkle in her eyes, which 
 flashed and danced and sparkled when she 
 was pleased like a pair of will-o'-the-wisps. 
 She was a born cleaner, and loved to sweep 
 or scrub everything that came in her way, 
 dishes or floors or babies, it made no differ- 
 ence so long as she could scour them with 
 soap and water. Small wonder that she 
 was a favorite in the house, for besides keep- 
 ing the Murphy rooms in the highest state of 
 polish, she devoted her odd minutes to tidy- 
 ing and cleaning for the other women whose 
 work kept them out all day. After the 
 rooms were spotless as she could make them, 
 Sal would turn her attention to the children, 
 whom she amused by the hour at a time with 
 127
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 songs and dances and grimaces, or, when all 
 else failed to please, with her one particular 
 talent, which seldom failed to bring a smile 
 to the most wan little faces. 
 
 " Go ahead, Sal, cough for us! " were the 
 first English words which she had under- 
 stood, and always, at that command, she had 
 been able to bring, apparently from the very 
 bottom of her shoes, a deep, startling cough. 
 This strange ability evidently did not come 
 from disease, for she had never been sick a 
 day in her seven years of life. The cough 
 was clearly only a trick, a habit, or a talent, 
 and it gained for her the name " Coughing 
 Sal," that distinguished her from the other 
 Sals in the house. When she was not amu- 
 sing babies or cleaning, she was always with 
 Tip Murphy, who, despite being five years 
 older, was her greatest friend, and who took 
 many half-hours from his boot-blacking to 
 be with her. The two had been such fast 
 friends from Sal's babyhood that she was 
 not very intimate with any of the other girls 
 of her own age; that is to say, she rarely 
 128
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 played with them. Tip satisfied her long- 
 ings, and many an act of mischief was trace- 
 able to the two. 
 
 So, with her work and her chosen chum, 
 Sal was a happy little girl until the day 
 when it was found out that her talent might 
 have a commercial value; then her innocent 
 content was destroyed, and in this way: 
 
 It was on one of the rare nights when 
 Jerry had appeared in the court that the 
 discovery was made. He had pushed his 
 organ into the rear hall of the tenement 
 and gone off, leaving Sal and Tip on the 
 rickety front steps of the building, spelling 
 out with eager interest a story in a battered 
 picture-book which Tip had rescued from an 
 ash-barrel. As Jerry strode away, Tip 
 looked up and hit Sal with his elbow. 
 
 " He's left it in there," he said with a 
 chuckle. "Come on, let's get it an' play!" 
 
 Sal's eyes sparkled at the idea, but she 
 shook her head. 
 
 " I dassn't," she said with decision. 
 
 "'Fraid cat!" jeered Tip with scorn. 
 129
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 " What are ye scairt of? He won't ketch 
 us, an' if he does, I won't let him touch ye. 
 Come on! " But Sal still hung back, so Tip, 
 determined to hear the tunes he loved, got 
 up and went toward the organ. 
 
 "I'll get it myself, then," he said; "I 
 didn't 'spose ye was sech a ninny! " 
 
 That was too much to bear even from 
 Tip, and Sal reluctantly followed and helped 
 him drag the organ from its place, giving 
 sidelong glances to right and left as if she 
 feared to see Jerry spring out from behind a 
 door. But when the instrument was safely 
 set on the pavement and she had begun to 
 turn its handle, fear was forgotten in de- 
 light over the strains of her favorite tune : 
 
 White wings they never grow weary, 
 They carry me cheerily over the sea; 
 
 Night comes, I long for my dearie, 
 I'll spread out my white wings and 
 fly home to thee. 
 
 As the notes were slowly ground out, Sal 
 trembled with pleasure, and turned the 
 crank with the greatest deliberation, to 
 130
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 make the tune last as long as she could, at 
 the same time singing the air at the top of 
 her shrill little voice. As the last note died 
 away she sighed, then frowned when she 
 heard the first bar of the Rosebud Waltz. 
 Tip, however, gave a whoop of delight; the 
 merry lilting dance music suited him bet- 
 ter, and no waltz was ever more entrancing 
 than the Kosebud. It was the most popular 
 air of the day, and Jerry's one of the few 
 organs that played it. So no sooner had 
 Sal played the opening bar, than children 
 sprang up on every side ready for a dance. 
 It was a pretty sight, for many of them, par- 
 ticularly the Italians, picturesque in their 
 gay rags, danced as if their lithe, graceful 
 little bodies were bewitched by the spell of 
 the rhythm. In pairs or in circles or singly, 
 as the spirit moved them, fully thirty boys 
 and girls were at the very height of de- 
 lighted exercise, while Tip turned hand- 
 springs beside the organ, when two figures 
 loomed up unnoticed at the other end of the 
 court and stood a moment watching the 
 131
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 sport, then they drew nearer, and Sal hap- 
 pening to look up, saw Jerry confronting 
 her, his face livid with rage. She dropped 
 the handle as if it had been a hot coal, and 
 the music stopped with a sudden jerk. 
 
 The dancing ended equally abruptly, and 
 the children stood for a moment staring at 
 Sal's great brother, whom they all feared; 
 at the stranger with him; at poor Sal, stand- 
 ing by the organ twisting her fingers to* 
 gether and looking at her boots, not daring 
 to encounter Jerry's glance again; at Tip 
 standing beside her in an attitude of defi- 
 ance, ready to defend her if necessary; and 
 then one by one they crept away, leaving Tip 
 and Sal alone to face the two men. 
 
 " I didn't mean no harm," Sal said finally 
 in a low voice, but Jerry laughed roughly, 
 and went a step nearer her. " H'm! " he said 
 savagely. " Ye didn't, didn't ye? I'll teach 
 ye ter 
 
 Just here Tip sprang in front of him and 
 faced him. 
 
 " No, ye won't neither! " he said. " I got 
 132
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 the orgin an' made her play, an' if yer wants 
 ter take it out o' some un, just get on to me. 
 Ef ye touches her I'll have de cops on to ye, 
 I'll He was about to spring at the man, 
 but Sal took hold of his arm. " Don't," she 
 said earnestly. " Don't, he'll hurt ye 
 Then from sheer nervousness she coughed, 
 one of her most startling coughs. 
 
 " Gad! what a noise! " exclaimed Jerry's 
 companion, who had seated himself on the 
 steps and was watching the quarrel with in- 
 terest. "Gad!" And turning to Jerry, he 
 asked, " Say, ain't she a lunger? " 
 
 Jerry laughed noisily. " A lunger? Not 
 she! She wuz born doin' that. It's just one 
 o' her tricks, it don't mean nothin'." 
 
 Then both men looked so intently at the 
 child that she coughed once more from em- 
 barrassment, and the stranger spoke hasti- 
 ly, before Jerry had time to give way to his 
 anger again. 
 
 " I say," he said, " ef that there's a trick 
 cough, there's a fortin' in it. It's a reg'lar 
 bank." 
 
 133
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 " Bank? " Jerry fairly stammered in his 
 excitement. " What're ye givin' us? " 
 
 " What I say. Ef she can do it ter order, 
 take de kid wid ye ter pull bells to ask fer 
 pennies wid a fetchin' ' goin'-ter-die-to-mor- 
 rer ' look, an' I bet ye ten ter one you'll see 
 de chips roll in." 
 
 Sal was watching the two with wide- 
 open, solemn eyes. " 'Tain't a trick cough," 
 she said finally. " Sal ain't goin' with 
 Jerry." 
 
 " Ef 'tain't genooine, it's a trick," an- 
 swered Jerry, whose frown had entirely dis- 
 appeared with interest in the new plan. " I 
 says it's a trick, an' ef it'll bring in boodle, 
 ye don't have nothin' ter say about it. Ain't 
 it better ter go than ter be licked to an inch 
 o' yer life or go ter jail? Say, ain't it? " 
 
 This was too much for Tip. Clenching 
 his fists, he boldly strode in front of Jerry 
 again. "Ye lie!" he said fiercely. "Say 
 jail again an' I'll smash yer head!" 
 
 The big man laughed. " Want ter 
 fight?" he asked. "All right, come on!" 
 134
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 And before Tip had a chance to breathe, he 
 was seized by the collar and pitched into the 
 middle of the street, and when he picked 
 himself up to hit back, both men and Sal had 
 disappeared. 
 
 Breathlessly he ran to the house, but the 
 door was barred, and from the sounds within 
 Tip argued that Sal was a prisoner and 
 Jerry her keeper. He was really very much 
 afraid of Jerry, so he did not dare to do any- 
 thing except tramp up and down outside 
 making plans for revenge, until his mother 
 came home, when Jerry was obliged to un- 
 bar the door for her, and at the same time 
 Tip slipped in too. 
 
 There was a scene then, when Jerry told 
 of his new plan for Sal, for Mary Murphy 
 was honestly fond of the child and dreaded 
 to have her go out to such a life. She coaxed 
 and implored and even cried, and Mr. Mur- 
 phy threatened, but it was useless; Jerry 
 was fierce and strong, and besides that, the 
 child was his flesh and blood, the Murphys 
 had no right of actual possession, so at 
 10 135
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 last, frightened and tired out, Sal gave her 
 promise and Jerry strode off. Sal did not 
 cry that was not her way but she was very 
 solemn and quiet, and notwithstanding Mrs. 
 Murphy's words of comfort, crept to bed in 
 a very forlorn mood, to wake the next morn- 
 ing with a dull sense of being all alone in a 
 strange new world, where no one would care 
 for her or let her do the things she liked 
 best. 
 
 Running away did not occur to her until 
 Tip whispered the idea in her ear, but she 
 shook her head. 
 
 " I dassn't," she said. " He'd ketch me. 
 Sal's goin'." And poor, angry, rebellious 
 Tip had to stand by and see the pathetic lit- 
 tle figure led away by Jerry, who appeared 
 at the earliest possible moment for his 
 victim. 
 
 When the child was ready to start, she 
 looked like a veritable Mother Bunch; her 
 large boots, which dropped away from her 
 feet with a clicking sound at each step, were 
 tied around her ankles with a stout cord just 
 136
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 below the fringe of tatters at the bottom of 
 her dingy fragment of a skirt. Over her 
 head and hanging down her back in a point 
 was pinned a small, much-faded plaid shawl, 
 making her little face look thin and wan, 
 and when Jerry had suspended the cup for 
 pennies around her neck on a string, her 
 costume was complete, and in Tip's eyes she 
 looked both stylish and beautiful. It gave 
 him a queer feeling down under the back of 
 his torn coat when he saw her trudge off and 
 turn back; once, twice, a third time she 
 turned, with such a wistful look at him that 
 he could not stand it without letting the 
 babyish tears come to his eyes, which, of 
 course, he would never do; so when she 
 looked back for the last time he was stand- 
 ing on his head, making such a comical, up- 
 side-down face that Sal smiled faintly. 
 Then they turned the corner and were out 
 of Tip's sight. 
 
 And so Sal became like Jerry, a wan- 
 derer. 
 
 The first day was a continual surprise to 
 137
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 her. They walked so many miles, and at 
 every turn there were so many new sights 
 to be seen. There were such quantities of 
 people and vehicles and great buildings 
 everywhere that she was dazed, and did not 
 know whether she was waking or sleeping. 
 At last in a side street, at least a thousand 
 miles from Mackintyre Court, Sal thought, 
 Jerry set the organ down and began to play 
 in front of one of a long row of houses, 
 motioning to Sal to go to the door. " Cough 
 hard!" he commanded, and timidly she 
 mounted the steps, thinking, as she rang the 
 bell, of Tip, and of all the work left undone 
 in the court because of her absence. As she 
 waited for the bell to be answered the organ 
 began the old familiar 
 
 White wings they never grow weary, 
 They carry me cheerily over the sea ; 
 
 Night comes, I long for my dearie, 
 I'll spread out my white wings and 
 fly home to thee. 
 
 The dear, long-loved tune so absorbed her 
 attention that when the door opened she had 
 138
 
 Sal.
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 entirely forgotten what she was expected to 
 do, and just stood staring at the maid, who 
 returned the stare for a moment, then said 
 decidedly, " Not to-day, little girl," and 
 slammed the door. Then Sal remembered 
 what she ought to have done, but it was too 
 late, alas! and there was not a penny in the 
 little cup. Jerry had watched her closely, 
 and when she came down he said with a 
 threatening gesture: 
 
 "Cough, or ye goes ter jail, mind that! " 
 So plucking up courage, she crept up the 
 next steps, and as soon as the door was 
 opened, coughed so violently that she felt 
 weak after it, but as she got some pennies, 
 she did not mind, and after that first time it 
 was not so hard. She did not dare forget 
 again, and whether because of the cough or 
 because of the quaint face and bearing of the 
 child, the cup filled and refilled until Jerry 
 was smiling and spoke gently to her. So the 
 day as a whole was not as long and dreadful 
 as she had feared. There was the organ 
 that she loved playing all the time, and the 
 139
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 skj was blue and the air fine, and at many 
 places people spoke kindly to her, even ask- 
 ing about the cough, but she ran away, be- 
 ing much too shy to speak to strangers. 
 The hours passed quickly, and almost before 
 she knew it they were back in the court 
 again. It did not please Jerry at all to go 
 there every night, but he did not know what 
 else to do with the child for the present, so 
 he took her to the Murphys; then went off, 
 in a fine humor, for his earnings were almost 
 double the usual amount, and in his joy he 
 tossed a dime to Sal before he left a whole, 
 bright, clean dime more than she had ever 
 had in her life. She put it in her mouth for 
 safe-keeping until Tip should come to share 
 it with her, and then, after satisfying her 
 hunger as well as she could, and answering 
 Mrs. Murphy's eager questions about the 
 day, she flew for her old stump of a broom 
 in a perfect whirl of affection, and was bus- 
 ily sweeping when Tip appeared. 
 
 ft Hello ! " he said admiringly. " You're 
 one an' a half, you are! Ain't ye tuckered 
 140
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 out? Here, gi' me de broom an' quit. Tell 
 us how much ye scooped fer that old rap- 
 scallion! " 
 
 Sal looked at him with a comical expres- 
 sion, and stringing the cup around her neck 
 again, shuffled over and held it out to him 
 with the most pathetic cough she could 
 call up. 
 
 Tip roared with laughter and slapped his 
 knees with his hands. " You're a good un, 
 an' no mistake," he chuckled. " Take it, 
 Sal; take me head, me cash, me legs, but quit 
 that noise! " 
 
 Then Sal produced the dime and ordered 
 him off to the corner store for sticks of 
 candy to celebrate with, and when he 
 brought not only the candy, but two sugar 
 buns as well, they had a regular feast, and 
 the day ended in a blaze of festivity. 
 
 The next day, and all the succeeding 
 ones for a fortnight, were much like the first, 
 and the new life had in it a charm of nov- 
 elty, but soon it began to wear on Sal, and 
 when she got back to the court she would 
 141
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 curl up in a little heap, too tired to have 
 any fun with Tip or to take her broom from 
 its corner. Trudging up and down steps all 
 day long, the scant allowance of food, the 
 exposure to stormy weather, were all telling 
 on the child, and more than that, Jerry was 
 becoming less and less kind to her. He had 
 discovered that she did not always obey him 
 that sometimes she would only cough at 
 one of a dozen houses; he scolded and com- 
 manded, and would not listen to her ex- 
 planations that at times the cough would 
 not come. 
 
 " Tell that ter the marines, young un," 
 he said with contempt. " Ye kin cough when 
 ye wants, an' I says it's ter be at every 
 house, d'ye hear? " He looked so fierce and 
 strong that Sal was frightened and gave a 
 quivering promise to try her best. 
 
 " Ef I don't hear ye bark good an' loud 
 all day, I'll leave ye alone in the street at 
 night," he threatened, and Sal did not doubt 
 that he would be as good as his word. 
 
 At length, by the time cold weather had 
 142
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 come, Jerry had grown so tired of going 
 back to the court each night that he began 
 to take Sal with him to lodging places, 
 where the tidy little soul would sit up all 
 night rather than lie down in such filth. 
 And often in the daytime they rested at a 
 sort of parlor which was always warm and 
 bright, where Jerry was able to get nice hot 
 things to drink, but where there was noth- 
 ing for Sal to eat, and she dreaded to go into 
 these places, for afterward Jerry was al- 
 ways more unkind to her than before. The 
 only bright spots in her days were the stops 
 they made at houses where the little figure 
 was well known and where the women who 
 came to the doors not only did not wait for 
 her to cough, but smilingly gave her money 
 at once. 
 
 " It's the little coughing girl; please, may 
 we give her an orange? " she would often 
 hear the children call up-stairs, and then 
 they would give her some dainties and S^l 
 would smile a solemn, half-scared smile, 
 flash a merry look of gratitude at them 
 143
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 from under her long lashes, and escape as 
 fast as possible, being very ill at ease with 
 such beribboned, beruffled little creatures. 
 
 One day she had a narrow escape at a 
 house where she was a great favorite with 
 the children. They had seen her coming, 
 had run down to open the door, and eagerly 
 pulled her into the house. 
 
 " Come! " they insisted. " Mama said you 
 could see our tree." And before she had 
 time to resist, they had taken her into a 
 room where there was a large green Christ- 
 mas tree standing. She knew what it was 
 called, for a German family in the court had 
 once had one. There were a number of boys 
 and girls who looked like big dolls to Sal 
 dancing around the tree, taking things 
 from its branches, and the girl who had 
 brought Sal in rushed away and returned 
 with toys and candy, which she thrust into 
 Sal's arms. " There! " she said in a tone of 
 satisfaction. " There, poor little girl, Santa 
 Glaus sent them to you; now come and play 
 with us." 
 
 144
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 Play with those fairy-like creatures! 'Sal 
 fairly gasped at the thought, dropped her 
 armful of toys on the floor, and seeing the 
 door still open, flew to it, and never so much 
 as looked behind or drew a long breath until 
 she was down by Jerry's side again. For- 
 getting her fear of him, she pulled his sleeve. 
 " Come," she insisted. " Come quick! " And 
 Jerry, much astonished, moved on farther 
 down the street; then he demanded the 
 money, and Sal was obliged to confess that 
 she not only had not asked for any, but had 
 had other things given her which she had 
 left behind; and a frown gathered on his 
 forehead. 
 
 " What's that dangling to ye? " he ques- 
 tioned, and following the direction of his 
 eye, Sal twisted about and discovered a doll 
 suspended from the fringe of her shawl. 
 Evidently it had been one of her presents, 
 and as she dropped the things, a hook of the 
 doll's dress had caught in the fringe; so 
 there it was, a chubby, flaxen-haired toy, 
 smiling at Sal as much as to say, " I am here 
 145
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 to comfort you! " and Sal, regardless of Jer- 
 ry's muttered words, carefully unhooked the 
 treasure, wrapped it in a corner of her shawl, 
 and holding it tightly in her arms, swayed 
 back and forth with a rocking motion. In 
 his anger the man would have torn it from 
 her and hurled it in the street, but Sal was 
 too quick for him. Clasping it even closer, 
 she spun round and round on one heel, say- 
 ing decidedly: "Sal have baby, Sal cough; 
 not have baby, not cough one bit." And the 
 man for his own advantage thought it best 
 to leave the treasure in her arms, and on 
 they tramped through the snow, till Sal's 
 teeth chattered and her lips were blue. As 
 a general thing Jerry did not take his organ 
 out on really bitter or stormy days, but the 
 child had so increased his earnings that he 
 could not resist the temptation now to go 
 out unless the streets were absolutely im- 
 passable. On such days they spent their 
 time in the bright parlors where Jerry got 
 the hot things to drink, and where the men 
 told funny stories that Sal stored up to tell 
 146
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 Tip if she should ever see him again, al- 
 though of that she had now little hope, for 
 three months had gone by since her last 
 night in the court. She was, oh, so tired and 
 lonesome for the old friends, and so pale and 
 thin that she was only a ghost of the old 
 Sal, and now every time she coughed it gave 
 her a sharp pain. This she told Jerry, but 
 he only laughed and told her to " Shut up 
 and come along." So on she trudged, day 
 after day, having difficulty to choke down 
 the cough between times, for it hurt her so 
 badly. 
 
 " It's reel, honest it is," she pleaded ear- 
 nestly when she and Jerry were lodging for 
 the night in an empty furniture-van lying at 
 the side of a street in Harlem on the West 
 Side. The van was dry and roomy, but so 
 cold that shivers played hide and seek up 
 and down Sal's back, and the tears rare 
 sight in her eyes until lately almost froze 
 on her cheeks. 
 
 "'Tis a truly cough; Sal can't help it. 
 Take Sal back. Jerry, take Sal to Tip! " 
 147
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 Again and again she cried out in these 
 words, but the man was in a stupor and paid 
 no attention to her moanings, so she 
 crouched there in the darkness, hugging her 
 doll, the one comfort of her dreary life, and 
 as she crooned a lullaby to it, she thought 
 of the babies in the court, of the pranks she 
 and Tip used to play; then the pretty fair- 
 ies she had seen dancing around the Christ- 
 mas tree seemed to be surrounding her. 
 Where was she? 
 
 Rousing from a dream, she heard the 
 heavy sound of Jerry's snoring. He was fast 
 asleep, that was evident, and she might cry 
 out all night without being answered. How 
 could she bear the cold for another minute? 
 
 Quick as a flash she seemed to hear Tip 
 whisper " Eun away! " and without thinking 
 or planning, or even knowing that she was 
 going to do it, she was out of the van, walk- 
 ing away just as fast as her tired, numb feet 
 would carry her in the direction which she 
 thought would take her to the court. To be 
 sure, she had never been there from that 
 148
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 part of the city, nor had she the slightest idea 
 of its locality, but this she did not stop to con- 
 sider; at the age of seven, when one is sick 
 and abused, one does not stop to reason, one 
 acts, and Sal only thought that if she walked 
 long enough and far enough she would at 
 last find herself in the narrow, winding alley 
 which was home to her. So on she tramped. 
 Once or twice she thought she heard Jerry 
 behind her, and she trembled with fear, but 
 it was not he, and she went on and on alone 
 through the silent streets. At first she was 
 too much excited to feel fatigue; then some- 
 thing in her knees gave out, and she was 
 obliged to sink down on the steps of a house. 
 It had grown very hot, she thought, and she 
 threw off the shawl from her head and shoul- 
 ders and tried to curl up on the hard stone 
 step. Under a gas-lamp on the block be- 
 yond she saw a big policeman coming to- 
 w r ard her, and it came to her mind that he 
 would tell her how to get to the court, but 
 at the corner, before he was near enough to 
 hear her voice, he turned, and she heard his 
 149
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 footsteps echoing down a side street. What 
 should she do? She felt so sick and lone- 
 some that she could not stay there by her- 
 self another minute; but when she tried to 
 get up she was too stiff to move. Then came 
 a spasm of coughing, and as she lay back, 
 trying to get rested after it, she thought Tip 
 came and laid his hand on her shoulder and 
 she heard his voice. She was glad, so glad! 
 and lay back on his arm saying not a single 
 word, too happy to mind cold or pain any 
 more. 
 
 When she woke up she lay quite still, try- 
 ing to understand what had happened and 
 where she was. There was no darkness and 
 no Tip, but bright sunshine was dancing 
 over a floor all covered with bunches of 
 flowers. Slowly her solemn eyes roved 
 around, looking at things of which she did 
 not know the name or nature. Even what 
 she was lying on was like a dream, it felt as 
 if it were a pile of soft clouds to her tired 
 little body, and over her were laid shining 
 white things. 
 
 150
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 Had she become a fairy? Where was 
 Jerry? There was a step beside her, and a 
 sweet face bent over her, while some one said 
 softly, " She is awake now." Then a hand 
 was laid on her head and the low voice 
 asked, " Do you feel better, dear? " And as 
 she did not answer the voice added hastily: 
 "There! there! don't try to talk, child, you 
 are too tired; just go to sleep again." And 
 Sal, dazed and wondering, did as she was 
 told. But there came a time when she woke 
 up feeling very different. The pain in her 
 bones was gone, she did not cough, and she 
 was warm and comfortable, as she had not 
 been since she could remember. There was 
 a big man holding her hand, and after she 
 had watched him intently for some time, she 
 asked solemnly, " Where's Jerry? " The 
 man answered with a smile that Jerry 
 wasn't there just then, but perhaps he would 
 be by and by. 
 
 " Where's Tip? " Sal's voice was clear 
 and strong. The man made some reply that 
 did not satisfy her, and she went on talking 
 I* 151
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 as if to herself. " I ain't a-goin', I ain't, 
 I ain't! Jerry hates Sal; Sal stay here!" 
 Then her eyes grew wild and she cried out: 
 " Where is Sal? Where is Sal's shawl? Sal 
 go back! " 
 
 Then a firm hand was laid on her hot one, 
 and the sweet voice which she had heard be- 
 fore said: "Listen, dear; you have been a 
 very, very sick little girl. One night a gen- 
 tleman came to this house very late indeed. 
 He found you on the steps and brought you 
 in for us to take care of, and you are going 
 to be well and strong again, and tell us all 
 about Jerry, and Tip, and how you came 
 here, but now you must be quiet, and drink 
 what I give you, or you will be sick again. 
 That's a good little girl," as Sal obediently 
 drank the dose. To her the lady was a 
 strange, beautiful creature, whom she would 
 not dream of disobeying, and after she had 
 taken the drink she felt sleepy again, and 
 lay there quietly, thinking of what she had 
 been told. 
 
 So that was what had happened, and 
 152
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 why she was in such a wonderful place. The 
 little girls who were so much like fairies 
 must live in rooms like these. She won- 
 dered what Jerry did when he roused and 
 found her gone, for now she remembered all 
 about that night and how she had run away. 
 She wondered how far from the court she 
 was, and as she lay there thinking, every 
 now and then the lady would come and smile 
 at her in the way Mrs. Murphy used to smile 
 at her baby when she was rocking it to 
 sleep. 
 
 After that Sal grew stronger very fast, 
 and soon was able to sit up in an easy chair 
 and hold the dirty fragment of a doll which 
 had been in her arms when she was found. 
 They tried in vain to replace it with a new 
 dainty one, but that brought on a tempest 
 of sobs, so they let her have her way, and 
 the old doll was with her night and day. 
 When she began to walk about the house she 
 did not look much like the old Sal; her 
 clothes were clean and whole, her hair was 
 neatly tied off her forehead with a bright 
 153
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 ribbon, and for the first time in her life she 
 wore shoes and stockings that fitted her. 
 She was given every kind of toy and picture- 
 book to amuse herself with, too, and it 
 seemed as if she ought to be as contented as 
 any child who ever lived, but she did not 
 laugh or play as if she were pleased. She 
 was always solemn and quiet except when 
 she and her doll were left alone, when she 
 would pour out a volume of songs and 
 stories into its china ear, but the very in- 
 stant she heard some one coming near she 
 would become shy and subdued again, and 
 the sweet lady grew much worried about 
 her. 
 
 One afternoon she said to Sal: "Now, 
 dearie, I want you to tell me about it all; 
 about Tip, and Jerry, and the other people 
 you remember, and then I will tell you some- 
 thing nice." 
 
 After a great deal of coaxing Sal told her 
 story in a most incoherent fashion and in 
 language all her own. She was a very delib- 
 erate talker, so the recital took a long time, 
 154
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 but the lady listened patiently and her eyes 
 were full of great drops when she went over 
 to Sal's chair, and kneeling down by her, put 
 her arm around the child. 
 
 " Dear little girl," she said softly, " it 
 was too hard for such a wee lady to bear, 
 but it is all over, and you are my child 
 now. I had a little girl of my own once, 
 Sal, just like you, with black hair and gray 
 eyes, but one day the angels came and took 
 her from me." Noticing the wonderment in 
 Sal's face, Mrs. Evans, for that was the 
 lady's name, added hastily: "You do not 
 know who the angels are, do you, dear? But 
 I shall teach you all about them soon. Well, 
 they came and took my little girl, and then 
 they left little Sal on the steps to comfort 
 me. Do you see, dear? Mrs. Evans wants 
 Sal to stay and be her very own, never to 
 work any more, but to be loved and cared 
 for. How would Sal like that? " 
 
 Not once had Sal taken her earnest eyes 
 from Mrs. Evans's face while she was speak- 
 ing, but when the lady asked the question 
 155
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 a worried look crept into her eyes, she 
 stamped her small foot, and said with de- 
 cision: 
 
 "No! no! You go with Sal! Sal wants 
 ter go back. You go with Sal!" Then 
 there was evidently a struggle in her mind, 
 for she had a real fondness for this kind new 
 friend, in whose eyes she saw tears gather- 
 ing. For a moment she stood in her old 
 fashion, with the toe of one shoe crossed 
 over the other, her eyes on the ground; then 
 raising her small hand, she awkwardly pat- 
 ted Mrs. Evans's cheek, but said no word of 
 contentment. Mrs. Evans named over all 
 the amusements and toys and children 
 she could have to play with, but it was in 
 vain. Sal only repeated, " You go with Sal! 
 Take Sal back! " until at last she became so 
 excited that Mr. Evans, who had come in, 
 had to promise that he would try to find the 
 court and take her back to it. After that 
 the child grew calm and suffered herself to 
 smile solemnly again. 
 
 Sal's unhappiness made Mrs. Evans feel 
 156
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 very sad, and even her husband's explana- 
 tion of it failed to comfort her. 
 
 " My dear," he said, " you must remem- 
 ber that this life is as strange and unnatural 
 to her as hers would be to us, and the poor 
 child is fighting with desperate homesick- 
 ness. It seems to me it is our duty to find 
 this place where she belongs, if possible; 
 that is, of course, if in doing it we can pro- 
 tect her from that brute, Jerry." 
 
 " If we had not found her on Ethel's 
 birthday, and if she did not have such 
 quaint, refined ways, I should not dare to 
 keep her," urged Mrs. Evans. " But as it is, 
 I feel that she was sent to us, and that we 
 have a right to have her, knowing better 
 what will be best for her in the end than she 
 does herself, poor little mite!" 
 
 Weeks went by, and the Evanses hoped 
 that Sal was growing more reconciled to 
 staying with them, for she said nothing more 
 of Tip or of wanting to go. Once she dis- 
 covered a broom down in the basement, and 
 something like her old energy came back to 
 157
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 her as she timidly lifted it and began to 
 sweep, but the housemaid took it from her, 
 saying it was too heavy for " the likes of 
 her," and listlessly Sal gave it up and went 
 back to her toys again. 
 
 She did not seem as well and strong as 
 they had expected when she first began to 
 show the effects of care and food. She had 
 no ambition to romp or walk or play, and 
 when they urged her to go out, she would 
 shake her head, saying pitifully: 
 
 " Jerry ketch Sal Jerry hates Sal." 
 
 At length the doctor was called in to see 
 her, but he only shook his head. " There is 
 nothing the matter that I can see," he said. 
 " No organic trouble anywhere, madam. It 
 must be imagination." And off he went, be- 
 ing a very busy man, but Mrs. Evans, as she 
 looked at Sal, was far from being satisfied, 
 and there were tears in her eyes, for al- 
 though the child was smiling at her, it was 
 in such a pathetic way that it went to the 
 good woman's heart. 
 
 Then as she looked she gave a sudden 
 158
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 exclamation of surprise, for Sal had jumped 
 to her feet, with crimsoning cheeks and ex- 
 cited eyes, every muscle strained to catch 
 the sound of what? 
 
 W-h-i-t-e w-i-n-g-s t-h-e-y never grow weary, 
 They carry me cheerily over the sea; 
 
 Night comes, I long for my dearie, 
 I'll spread out my white wings and fly 
 home to thee. 
 
 The old beloved strains! In the middle 
 of the floor she stood, not breathing or stir- 
 ring until the last note died away and the 
 opening bar of the merry Rosebud Waltz 
 sounded. Then, with one shriek she van- 
 ished headlong down the stairs, and Mrs. 
 Evans following, saw her rush out like a 
 little crazy creature and stand directly in 
 front of a tall, awkward boy grinding the 
 organ, dance up and down, wave her hands, 
 nod her head like a mandarin, crying over 
 and over, in a voice that could be heard from 
 avenue to avenue: 
 
 "Tip /TIP! TIP! Take Sal back! Quick!" 
 Down dropped the organ handle, and Tip, 
 159
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 for it was he, stood in dumb wonder, star- 
 ing at the daintily dressed girl who had the 
 face of long-lost Sal. He stood silent until 
 poor Sal grew frantic; out into the street 
 she ran, and holding up her hand in the 
 form of a cup, she looked at Tip with a ra- 
 diant, dimpling, sparkling smile such as 
 Mrs. Evans had never seen on her face 
 before. Then she coughed a deep, tragic 
 cough. 
 
 If proof had been wanting, there it was, 
 and Tip grasped her hands as tightly as if 
 he feared she would vanish if he let go, 
 and spoke for the first time. 
 
 "Well, I'll be jiggered!" he gasped, 
 squeezing her hands more tightly with each 
 word. " Tell us where ye dropped from, an' 
 get on to me style, ef ye please! I'm owner 
 of de orgin now, an' I'll play ye de Kosebud 
 all day ef ye wants! " 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Evans interposed a sug- 
 gestion that they leave the organ and come 
 into the house to finish their excited talk, so, 
 still hand in hand, they ran up the steps, Sal 
 160
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 looking like another child. As they entered 
 her face clouded with a new trouble. 
 
 " Where's Jerry? " she demanded. " Jer- 
 ry hates Sal, make Sal cough." 
 
 " Don't ye fret yer head over that, kid," 
 said Tip, staring with eager eyes around the 
 big hall which they entered. " Jerry, he'll 
 not trouble ye no more. He's gone fer good 
 this time, an' de orgin's mine. He left it in 
 de court, an' he's gone where he can't never 
 come back. Say, ye don't live here, do ye? " 
 
 Sal nodded her head impatiently, and 
 dancing around him, repeated: "Tip, take 
 Sal back! Take Sal back quick!" 
 
 "Sure!" answered the boy. " But ye 
 don't mean ter go back on this here place fer 
 us, do ye?" 
 
 There was such a happy light in the 
 child's eyes that Mrs. Evans did not wait for 
 her to answer, but said hastily herself: 
 
 " Yes, she is to go back with you to the 
 
 court, if your mother will take her and do 
 
 for her as she did in the time before that 
 
 cruel man took her away. If what you say 
 
 161
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 is true and she is safe from him, I know Mr. 
 Evans will choose to have her go with you. 
 When he comes in you must tell us all you 
 know about Jerry and other things which 
 we have always wanted to know. We are 
 very fond of Sal, and you can not guess how 
 I hate to give her up, but I have no right to 
 keep her from being happy. You are sure 
 she will be well cared for? She has had 
 such a hard time, you know! " 
 
 Tip looked earnestly into Mrs. Evans's 
 sweet face, then extending an extremely 
 grimy hand, while a smile lit up his freckled 
 face from end to end, he said heartily: 
 " Yes, marm, bet yer life on that! Sal's my 
 chum, an' I don't get her in another box, not 
 if I knows myself! " Then the strangeness 
 of the whole occurrence of finding Sal so un- 
 expectedly overcame him, and he slapped his 
 knees with his hands time after time, mur- 
 muring under his breath, " Well, Pll be jig- 
 gered! " all the while keeping his eyes on Sal 
 as if he feared he should lose her again. 
 
 Sal meanwhile had stolen up close to 
 162
 
 SAL: HER STORY 
 
 Mrs. Evans and was clinging to her dress. 
 "You come with Sal?" she said wistfully. 
 " You come play with Sal and Tip? Sal 
 likes you. You come with Sal? " 
 
 Just then Mrs. Evans could find no words 
 in which to reply, so she nodded, and hugged 
 the child, and Sal, contented, danced away, 
 wild with delight. 
 
 There was such a radiance in her face 
 and manner that Mrs. Evans realized with a 
 sigh how useless it was to try to transplant 
 this human flower from the soil in which 
 the Great Gardener had planted it; and to- 
 day there is no happier person in all the 
 world than Sal, in her corner of Mackintyre 
 Court. 
 
 163
 
 MAROONED
 
 MAROONED 
 
 "YOU'RE a coward just like all girls!" 
 said Jimmie, with supreme contempt. 
 
 "I'm not a coward!" retorted Eleanor, 
 his sister, with much dignity and decision. 
 " Boys aren't any braver than girls, any- 
 how. They get frightened at different 
 things, that's all. And I just guess I've 
 seen you scared to pieces in a thunder- 
 shower, or when father called you into the 
 library for a talk!" 
 
 "Pooh!" said Jimmie. "You never 
 heard me shriek because I was afraid of a 
 silly little mouse; and I never fell down two 
 flights of stairs because I was scared in the 
 dark, and bounced in like a jumping-jack to 
 disturb you when you were reading. I'd be 
 ashamed to act so, but I s'pose girls can't 
 help it. I'm going to be a pirate, and of 
 12 167
 
 MAROONED 
 
 course they never get frightened at any- 
 thing. You just wait, and I'll show you how 
 brave a fellow can be! " 
 
 " I don't care how brave you can be- 
 so there," retorted Eleanor. " And girls 
 don't care to be compared to pirates, any- 
 how!" 
 
 Jimmie was standing on the hearth-rug, 
 with feet wide apart and hands in his pock- 
 ets, and a superior and scornful expression 
 on his round, fat face. Eleanor stood facing 
 him, likewise scornful, now that she had re- 
 covered after her wild scramble from attic 
 to library, which had interrupted Jimmie's 
 profound meditation on pirates and their 
 methods of living. 
 
 The next day would be Saturday, and on 
 that day Jimmie proposed to abandon him- 
 self to the joys of a seafaring existence. 
 Reading of Captain Kidd's adventures until 
 that hero's deeds were engraved on his brain 
 in red letters, and the pages of the book in 
 which they were recorded were worn in holes, 
 Jimmie had just decided to dedicate himself 
 168
 
 MAROONED 
 
 to the delightful task of finding Captain 
 Kidd's buried treasure, or at least that part 
 of it which he felt sure he had traced to a 
 location not far from his home. In imagi- 
 nation he was handing out coffers of gold 
 and precious stones to an admiring audi- 
 ence, when Eleanor rushed into the room, 
 breathless, with her wild account of attic 
 adventure. 
 
 However, he reflected that it might be 
 pleasant to share his plans for Jimmie 
 dearly loved to talk so in a gentler voice he 
 invited Eleanor to sit down. But her pride 
 had been too deeply wounded to allow of 
 such a concession. With a toss of her head 
 she left the hero to himself, and he was 
 obliged to go to bed for lack of better occu- 
 pation. There in the dark he completed his 
 plan of bold buccaneering, and lay awake to 
 hear the old clock on the stairs announce 
 three successive hours. 
 
 But late as it was when he fell asleep, he 
 was up at daybreak the next morning, and, 
 eager not to waste one moment of the day, 
 169
 
 MAROONED 
 
 dressed himself as hastily as possible in the 
 finery he had been accumulating for some 
 weeks. When arrayed in the costume of the 
 " order of pirates," the effect was even finer 
 than he had anticipated. He wore short red 
 socks and low shoes on which he had pinned 
 large steel buckles. A gay scarf was draped 
 around his waist, another tied over his head 
 in true pirate fashion, and around his neck, 
 over the old blue jacket that hid all of his 
 red sweater except the wristbands, was 
 knotted a red silk handkerchief. On his 
 head over the scarf was an old three-cor- 
 nered hat which had belonged to a Revo- 
 lutionary grandfather; and from his ears, 
 suspended by white threads, hung antique 
 earrings of his mother's. A pair of his 
 father's old duck trousers, cut off at the 
 knees to give the proper baggy effect, com- 
 pleted his outfit, and when he had stuck a 
 Japanese sword with its battered scabbard 
 through his belt, and taken a pistol from a 
 rack of relics, he so much resembled a pirate 
 as to feel a thrill of pride in his achieve- 
 170
 
 MAROONED 
 
 ment, and a keen desire to begin his adven- 
 turous career. 
 
 So he crept softly down to the pantry 
 and packed a gay work-bag of Eleanor's 
 with crackers, cheese, and cake, and filled a 
 bottle labeled " soda-water " with molasses 
 and water as a suitable beverage to quench 
 a pirate's thirst. He then made his way 
 from the house across the two-mile stretch 
 of salt marshes leading to the inlet. He had 
 often rebelled at the walk when sent on an 
 errand, but as the first incident in his new 
 career it had a different aspect. 
 
 Reaching the cove where his boat lay, he 
 stowed away his provender, and found his 
 pickax and shovel safe where he had left 
 them the day before. Then jumping aboard 
 the boat, he rowed easily down the winding 
 inlet, helped by the current. But when he 
 turned into the bay, divided from the open 
 sea by only a short breakwater, progress 
 was quite another matter. He began to 
 look more sober, to whistle less loudly, and 
 to brace himself for real work. For- 
 171
 
 MAROONED 
 
 tunately it was a calm day or he could 
 scarcely have made any headway against 
 wind and tide in the long pull that was 
 blistering his hands. But at last he 
 reached the strip of sand jutting out from 
 the mainland on which, sunk deep in the 
 sand, lay the spar of an old vessel which 
 Jimmie believed had belonged to the pi- 
 rate band who had buried their caskets of 
 gold near by. 
 
 Beaching his boat, he landed, and began 
 taking measurements to find the exact spot 
 where, as he had figured, the treasure lay. 
 This took some time, and he now decided to 
 eat a bite of luncheon. It did not take long 
 to empty bag and bottle, and off he started 
 toward his boat to get the implements with 
 which to begin work. 
 
 But alas for Jimmie! A pirate ma- 
 rooned was he! 
 
 While he had been busy with his lunch- 
 eon the tide had turned, his peninsula had 
 become an island lapped by waves that 
 threatened soon to cover it, and far out on 
 172
 
 MAROONED 
 
 the water, bobbing up and down, he saw his 
 truant boat! 
 
 With a groan of despair, he sank down 
 on the sand, the empty bag beside him, the 
 pistol in his hand, while the soda-water bot- 
 tle floated in a little pool. 
 
 Only for a few seconds did he give way to 
 his feelings; then, jumping up, he stood erect 
 and brave, as any good pirate should, and 
 decided what to do. A large piece of slate 
 served in place of a shovel, and he dug fast 
 and deep until he had made an immense 
 hole; but he found only sand, and no trace of 
 the pot of gold. Hot and tired, he rested 
 for a moment, and noticed dark clouds gath- 
 ering. Could night have come so soon? A 
 low, ominous rumble answered him as the 
 first raindrops fell, and he forgot the treas- 
 ure forgot everything except his danger. 
 In a panic, he took refuge behind the old 
 boat spar, clinging to it in a desperate hope 
 of protection against the rising waters. 
 Cowering there, he hid his face that he 
 might not see the waves which were now 
 173
 
 MAROONED 
 
 covering his island, threatening, as he 
 thought, to sweep him out to sea, while re- 
 morseful thoughts came thick and fast. He 
 had disobeyed his father's direct commands 
 about rowing along that shore; he had prob- 
 ably given his invalid mother a dangerous 
 fright; he had taunted Eleanor with coward- 
 ice. Was this his punishment, or only the 
 usual lot of a pirate? Waiting for his last 
 moment to come, to his surprise he continued 
 to live, while thunder and lightning roared 
 and flashed and shook the solid earth, and 
 the waves dashed up to the island and 
 flowed softly over him and his once gorgeous 
 costume. 
 
 Slowly came the light, a rift in the clouds 
 showed blue sky, and a boat rounded the 
 point, manned by two strong men. A mega- 
 phone carried their repeated calls to the 
 ears for which they were meant, and a 
 shrill response brought joy to a father's 
 heart. 
 
 To row back through the white-capped 
 waves took time and strength, and it was 
 174
 
 MAROONED 
 
 some hours later that the limp, bedraggled, 
 waterlogged pirate stood before the home 
 fire, with little left of the bold buccaneer, 
 and much of the thankful boy Jimmie. 
 
 That evening, warmed, clothed, and fed, 
 after a long nap, Jimmie was beginning to 
 feel a glow of pride in his adventure, when 
 the feeling speedily vanished at sight of his 
 father beckoning to him. 
 
 " James," he said, " I wish to see you in 
 the library immediately. I have something 
 to say to you." 
 
 A half-hour later, when he emerged, red- 
 faced and meek, he found Eleanor waiting 
 for him, with a mixture of amusement and 
 sympathy written on her face. 
 
 " Weren't you one bit afraid, really and 
 truly?" she whispered. "Not one single 
 
 Jimmie looked steadily and solemnly at 
 her, then a merry smile overspread his round 
 face. 
 
 " Of course not," he said. " Pirates never 
 are, you know, except sometimes like girls! " 
 175
 
 MAROONED 
 
 And as a reward for his surrender, and a 
 satisfaction to her intense curiosity, she let 
 him sit down and tell her all about it for 
 really she was very fond of Jimmie, after 
 all. 
 
 (i) 
 
 THE END 
 
 176
 
 BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS. 
 
 PUBLISHED IN THE AUTUMN, 1903. 
 BY JAMES BARNES. 
 
 The Giant of Three Wars. 
 
 (Heroes of Our Army Series.) Illustrated. I2mo. Cloth, $1.00 
 net ; postage, 10 cents additional. 
 
 This life of General Winfield Scott makes the first volume in the new series to 
 be known as " Heroes of Our Army." It possesses a colored frontispiece and other 
 illustrations. 
 
 BY MARION AMES TAGGART. 
 
 At Aunt Anna's. 
 
 Colored Frontispiece and other Illustrations by WILLIAM L. 
 JACOBS. i2mo. Cloth, $1.00 net ; postage, 10 cents additional. 
 
 The story of Ted and Dolly, who are twins, while staying one summer in the 
 country at Aunt Anna's. This is a tale for children of ten or twelve years of age, 
 being illustrated, and having an illustrative cover. It is a dainty book for dainty 
 children, but has the charm that interests the grown person who may read it aloud 
 to those for whom it was written. 
 
 BY KATE DICKINSON SWEETSER. 
 
 Micky of the Alley and Other Youngsters. 
 
 With Illustrations by GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS. lamo. Cloth, 
 $1.00 net ; postage, 10 cents additional. 
 
 A collection of tales for children of ten to twelve years of age. The subjects 
 are widely varied. That one giving its title to the book, together with "James 
 Barkerding, Knight," are of life in the tenement districts of New York. "Teddy 
 Baird's Luck " tells how a boy finds, when he least expects it, the adventure he 
 has been looking for ; " Marooned " is the story of a boy who finds that a boy may 
 
 follows a hand-organ and coughs for pennies. 
 
 The tales make an interesting and wholesome book for the young, and are told 
 with grace and literary feeling. The pathos and charm of several are notable. 
 
 BY GABRIELLE E. JACKSON. 
 
 Three Graces. 
 
 Illustrated in Colors by C. M. RELYEA. I2mo. Cloth, $1.25 net ; 
 postage, 12 cents additional. 
 
 A story for girls of boarding-school life, full of incident and wholesome charac- 
 terization, with delightfully cozy scenes of indoor enjoyment and an exciting de- 
 scription of a Hallowe'en escapade. The Three Graces are _interesting girls who 
 may count upon finding among youthful readers many who will follow their school 
 experiences with a sense of making new friends. Mrs. Jackson introduces a strong 
 element of attraction in the honest character of the young country lawyer who 
 carries with him a breath of loyalty to all that is best. The Three Graces them- 
 selves are girls of very different characteristics who influence each other for good. 
 The book is illustrated in a spirited manner, and in colors. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
 
 BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD. 
 
 The Spy of Yorktown. 
 
 Illustrated. Colored Frontispiece. $1.25 net ; postage, 12 cents 
 additional. 
 
 The story deals with the interesting epoch of our Revolutionary history when 
 Benedict Arnold, as a reward of his treachery, was in charge of the English forces 
 in Virginia. The spy of Yorktown himself is a brave lad who runs the gamut of 
 adventure following upon his selection by Governor Thomas Jefferson to report to 
 him the numbers and designs of the invading army. 
 
 OTHER BOOKS BY MR. STODDARD. 
 
 With the Black Prince. 
 
 A Story of Adventure in the Fourteenth Century. Illustrated by 
 B. West Clinedinst. 
 
 The absorbing interest of this stirring historical romance will appeal to all young 
 readers. 
 
 Success Against Odds ; or, How an American Boy made his 
 
 Way. 
 Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst. 
 
 In this spirited and interesting story Mr. Stoddard tells the adventures of a 
 plucky boy who fought his own battles, and made his way upward from poverty in 
 a Long Island seashore town. It is a tale of pluck and self-reliance capitally told. 
 
 The Red Patriot. 
 
 A Story of the American Revolution. Illustrated by B. West 
 Clinedinst. 
 
 The Windfall ; or, After the Flood. 
 
 Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst. 
 
 Chris, the Model-Maker. 
 
 A Story of New York. With 6 full-page Illustrations by B. West 
 Clinedinst. 
 
 On the Old Frontier. 
 
 With 10 full-page Illustrations. 
 
 The Battle of New York. 
 
 With ii full-page Illustrations and colored Frontispiece. 
 
 Little Smoke. 
 
 A Story of the Sioux Indians. With 12 full-page Illustrations by 
 F. S. Dellenbaugh, portraits of Sitting Bull, Red Cloud, and other 
 chiefs, and 72 head and tail pieces representing the various imple- 
 ments and surroundings of Indian life. 
 
 Crowded Out o' Crofield. 
 
 The Story of a country boy who fought his way to success in the 
 great metropolis. With 23 Illustrations by C. T. Hill. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
 
 BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWQRTH, 
 
 Brother Jonathan; or, The Alarm Post in the Cedars. 
 
 A Tale of Early Connecticut. Illustrated. Colored Frontispiece. $1.25 
 net ; postage, 12 cents additional. 
 
 A stirring tale of the early days of Connecticut, dominated by the forceful per- 
 sonality of Jonathan Trumbull, whose name, through its affectionate use by George 
 Washington, has become the familiar nickname of the nation that he helped to make. 
 
 OTHER BOOKS BY MR. BUTTERWORTH. 
 
 In the Days of Audubon. 
 
 A Tale of the " Protector of Birds." Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst 
 and others. $1.20 net ; postage, 14 cents additional. 
 
 In the Days of Jefferson ; or, The Six Golden Horseshoes. 
 
 A Tale of Republican Simplicity. Illustrated by F. T. Merrill. $1.50. 
 
 The Story of Magellan. 
 
 A Tale of the Discovery of the Philippines. Illustrated by F. T. Merrill 
 and others. $1.50. 
 
 The Treasure Ship. 
 
 A Story of Sir William Phipps and the Inter-Charter Period in Massa- 
 chusetts. Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst and others. $1.50. 
 
 The Pilot of the Mayflower. 
 
 Illustrated by H. Winthrop Peirce and others. $1.50. 
 
 True to his Home. 
 
 A Tale of the Boyhood of Franklin. Illustrated by H. Winthrop Peirce. 
 $1.50. 
 
 The Wampum Belt ; or, The Fairest Page of History. 
 
 A Tale of William Penn's Treaty with the Indians. With 6 full-page 
 Illustrations. $1.50. 
 
 The Knight of Liberty. 
 
 A Tale of the Fortunes of Lafayette. With 6 full-page Illustrations. 
 $1.50. 
 
 The Patriot Schoolmaster. 
 
 A Tale of the Minutemen and the Sons of Liberty. With 6 full-page 
 Illustrations by H. Winthrop Peirce. $1.50. 
 
 In the Boyhood of Lincoln. 
 
 A Story of the Black Hawk War and the Tunker Schoolmaster. With 
 12 Illustrations and colored Frontispiece. $1.50. 
 
 The Boys of Greenway Court. 
 
 A Story of the Early Years of Washington. With 10 full-page Illustra- 
 tions. $1.50. 
 
 The Log School-House on the Columbia. 
 
 With 13 full-page Illustrations by J. Carter Beard, E. J. Austen, and 
 others. $1.50. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
 
 BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR. 
 
 HIS NEW VOLUME. 
 
 Weatherby's Inning. 
 
 A Story of College Life and Baseball. Illustrated in 
 colors by C. M. Relyea. $1.25 net; postage, 12 cents 
 additional. 
 
 In this latest book Mr. Barbour tells a story of college life and sport that 
 will appeal to readers, old or young, who enjoy a well-written story contain- 
 ing interesting characterization and a plot of sufficient mystery to carry the 
 attention from page to page with increasing curiosity. 
 
 MR. BARBOUR'S OTHER BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 Behind the Line. 
 
 A Story of School and Football. Illustrated by C. M. 
 Relyea. i2mo. Cloth, $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents ad- 
 ditional. 
 
 " He writes with a picturesque vigor and a knowledge of his subject." 
 St. Louis Post-Despatch. 
 
 ' ' For many lads a story like ' Behind the Line ' is as good as an outing, or 
 as beneficial as a real frolic would be on green fields or gravel campus." 
 Philadelphia Item. 
 
 Captain of the Crew. 
 
 Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. $1.20 net; postage, 12 
 cents additional. 
 
 Mr. Barbour has made himself a master of sport in fiction for young 
 readers. His new book is one of those fresh, graphic, delightful stories of 
 school life that appeal to all healthy boys and girls. He sketches skating 
 and ice-boating and track athletics, as well as rowing. 
 
 For the Honor of the School. 
 
 A Story of School Life and Interscholastic Sport. 
 Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. $1.50. 
 
 " It is a wholesome book, one tingling with health and activity, endeavor 
 and laudable ambition to excel in more fields than one." New York Mail 
 and Express. 
 
 The Half-Back. 
 
 Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst. $1.50. 
 
 " It is in every sense an out-and-out boys' book, simple and manly in tone, 
 hearty and healthy in its sports, and full of that enthusiasm, life, and fondness 
 for games which characterizes the wide-awake, active schoolboy." Boston 
 Herald. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
 
 NEW BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 With the Flag in the Channel ; or, The Adven- 
 tures of Capt. Gustavus Conyngham. 
 
 By JAMES BARNES, Author of " Midshipman Farragut," " Commo- 
 dore Perry," etc. Illustrated by Charlton T. Chapman. (Young Heroes 
 of our Navy series.) I2mo. Cloth, 80 cents net ; postage, 8 cents 
 additional. 
 
 The wonderful story of adventure at sea which Mr. Barnes tells in his new 
 volume will be new to almost all readers, but it is founded upon fact. Captain 
 Conyngham was the predecessor of Paul Jones. When Dr. Franklin and Silas 
 Deane of the Marine Committee of 1777 issued the commissions for vessels which 
 were to sail in the capacity of national cruisers, the first commission, dated March 
 i, 1777, was given to Captain Conyngham. He crossed to the British Channel, cap- 
 tured English ships, entered English ports in disguise, and his brilliant exploits 
 filled England with dismay. 
 
 Behind the Line. A Story of School and Football. 
 
 By RALPH HENRY BARBOUR, Author of "The Half-Back," 
 " Captain of the Crew," etc. Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. I2mo. 
 Cloth, $1.20 net ; postage, 12 cents additional. 
 
 This is an exciting football story by a writer who has placed himself at the head 
 of writers of stories of college sports. " Behind the Line " deals with life at the 
 preparatory school and in the earlier years at the university. It contains thrilling 
 descriptions of football contests, and gives an intimate view of the preparation and 
 training for football and other athletics. The story is one of much variety and 
 incident, and it sketches the various incidents and amusements and also the work of 
 a large preparatory school. 
 
 MisS Lochinvar. A Story for Girls. 
 
 By MARION AMES TAGGART. Illustrated by William L. Jacobs. 
 I2mo. Cloth, 1 1. 20 net; postage, 12 cents additional. 
 
 Miss Taggart knows all the workings of the girlish heart. The experiences of 
 the country girl brought up to worship nature and truthj to take things at their 
 true worth, and to look always for the best in her ^friends and surroundings, 
 suddenly called upon to face life in the home of her rich city cousins, and her un- 
 conscious influence in overcoming the petty jealousies and meannesses that make 
 themselves manifest in an artificial society, form the theme that Miss Taggart has 
 used for an intensely sympathetic and interesting story. 
 
 Jacks Of all Trades. A Story for Girls and Boys. 
 
 By KATHARINE N. BIRDSALL. Illustrated in two colors by Walter 
 Russell, with many text cuts. I2mo. Cloth, $1.20 net; 12 cents 
 additional. 
 
 Here is a stor-' that shows conclusively that "the child is father of the man." 
 Miss Birdsall has written a book that should be read by every boy and girl who has 
 any ambition or purpose to develop the best that is in them. The author has taken 
 nobility of character as the key-note for a most wholesome and inspiriting story, the 
 plot of which is of absorbing interest. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
 
 APPLETONS' HOME-READING BOOKS. 
 UNCLE SAM SERIES. 
 
 Popular Information for the Young Concerning our 
 Government. 
 
 A MOST APPROPRIATE HOLIDAY OR VACATION 
 
 GIFT. 
 
 Our Country's Flag and the Flags of Foreign 
 Countries. 
 
 By EDWARD S. HOLDEN. Illustrated with 10 colored Plates. 
 Cloth, 80 cents. 
 
 This book is a history of national flags, standards, banners, emblems, and 
 symbols. The American flag is presented first, because every American 
 child should know how the flag of his country came to be what it is, and that 
 it has always been the flag of a country, not the personal standard of a king 
 or of an emperor. 
 
 Our Navy in Time of War. 
 
 By FRANKLIN MATTHEWS. Cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 The leading events of our navy's achievements and their special signifi- 
 cance are related in this book, which is designed to interest the young reader 
 in historical research. No more stirring chapter in our country's history 
 could be selected than is contained in the story of the navy from 1861 to 1898. 
 
 Uncle Sam's Secrets. 
 
 A Story of National Affairs for the Youth of the Nation By 
 O. P. AUSTIN. 75 cents. 
 
 This volume furnishes to the youth of the land some facts about the 
 administrative affairs of the nation the Post-Offics, Treasury, Mint, and 
 other functions. Especially useful to the rising generation in stimulating a 
 desire to become better informed of the affairs of their country, and to love 
 and reverence its institutions. 
 
 Uncle Sam's Soldiers. 
 
 By O. P. AUSTIN. 75 cents. 
 
 The purpose of this story, like the preceding, is instruction, though here 
 it is confined to military matters, including the organization and handling: of 
 armies. The story, which purports to be the experience of two boys verging 
 upon manhood who served in Cuba, Porto Rico, and the Philippines, gives 
 the facts regarding modern military methods in a way that can not fail to 
 interest. 
 
 Special Gift Edition. 4 vols., izmo. Colored Illustrations. 
 Bound in Handsome Red Cloth, Boxed, $3.50. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
 
 -- """Illlllll I I (III II II 
 A 000125175 o