855 
 
 ARTHUR 
 
 IN SHADOW & SUNSHINE 
 
, 
 
ARTHUR 
 
 IN SHADOW AND 
 
 SUNSHINE 
 
 BY 
 KATE COPE WEBB 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS AND DECORATION 
 BY 
 
 WILL WHITE 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 RICARDO J. OROZCO 
 
 M C M X I I 
 
COPYRIGHT. 1912. BY 
 
 RICARDO J. OROZCO 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
Bancroft Lfcmy 
 
 To my Grandaughter 
 
 MARTHA STERLING WEBB 
 O 
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 o 
 
 D 
 
 O 
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 f. 
 

 ARTHUR IN SHADOW 
 AND SUNSHINE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "Oh, dear ! I wish I could go some 
 place. Frank says I am an awful baby 
 to never go outside our grounds. Papa 
 and mama won't let me without old 
 Betty or somebody tags along. Frank 
 says if he was me, he'd just go every- 
 where, and see lots of things. I'll never 
 be a man at all if I stay here all the 
 time, Frank says." 
 
 Arthur so longed for companionship 
 that he finally decided to venture along 
 the road a short distance by himself. He 
 had been trying to play circus alone, and 
 had on a little spangled jacket and cap 
 that his sister, Lillian, had made for 
 him. Being afraid that he might meet 
 some one who would recognize him and 
 laugh at his costume, he ran back to 
 change them; he removed his cap, re- 
 placing it with one of fur, but kept on 
 his spangled jacket, slipping over it a 
 coarse coat that had been given him by 
 the gardener's wife. These garments were 
 much too large for him, but by turn- 
 ing up the sleeves of the coat, and but- 
 
 
toning it well over his chest, his toilet 
 was completed to his satisfaction. He 
 certainly looked very much like a poor 
 little tramp in his cast-off clothing. 
 There was little fear of being recog- 
 nized, especially as he drew his cap well 
 down over his eyes. 
 
 As he started off up the road, he 
 decided to play, as he often did with 
 Frank, that he was a circus boy, without 
 father or mother or any one belonging 
 to him. He played that he had been 
 stolen by a circus man, who treated him 
 very cruelly, and he was now running 
 away. He called himself "Charley May- 
 lard," the name of a minstrel he had 
 lately seen and greatly admired. 
 
 Arthur strolled along the road for 
 some distance, at last coming to a point 
 from which he could see the railroad 
 depot, a place always full of interest to 
 him. He concluded to go on far enough 
 to watch the cars as they passed. 
 
 A train came puffing up just as he 
 reached the platform. It suddenly oc- 
 cured to Arthur that it would be a fine 
 thing to go to the city and meet his papa. 
 He knew where his father's office was, 
 and hoped he would call him a real 
 brave boy to have come all the way by 
 himself. 
 
 
 
 = 
 
 

 Without further consideration he 
 jumped on board. Almost immediately 
 the train was in motion. There were 
 plenty of seats to be had. He slipped 
 into one near the door. He began to feel 
 frightened, and would gladly have re- 
 turned home had it been possible. 
 
 Remembering that Frank would cer- 
 tainly have called him a coward, he tried 
 to dismiss his fears. He continued his 
 play of being "Charley Maylard," a 
 circus boy, who was making his escape 
 from a cruel master. 
 
 A boy came through the car with a 
 basket on his arm, selling candy, or- 
 anges, nuts and other edibles. Arthur 
 eyed them wistfully. His mother fre- 
 quently had bought things for him from 
 this very boy. "Oh how good that candy 
 would taste!" He had no money with 
 him, but he knew the boy would be re- 
 turning through the car very soon, and 
 wondered if he had not something with 
 which he could make a trade for some 
 candy. He spread out before him on 
 the seat all his precious possessions. It 
 was hard to decide what would be a fair 
 exchange; there was the big jack-knife, 
 a most marvelous affair. It had a cork- 
 screw, a nut-picker and other queer con- 
 trivances, none of them very good for 
 
use. But it was the pride of Arthur's 
 heart and for it he had traded to Frank 
 three tops, a two-dollar pearl-handled 
 knife and fifty cents to boot. Not even 
 for the much-wished-for candy could he 
 part with this treasure. 
 
 He turned his attention to the other 
 articles tops, marbles six pure agates ; 
 a round tin with holes in it; a piece of 
 comb; pencils, without points; chalk 
 red, blue, green and white; some shells; 
 a piece of smoked glass; a burning-glass 
 and a small mirror; even more articles. 
 Arthur could not decide with which of 
 these to part. The boy passed and op- 
 portunity was gone. 
 
 The train moved along rapidly and, 
 after stopping at several stations, reached 
 its destination. As Arthur stood on the 
 platform, looking about him, he did not 
 feel quite so certain that he could find 
 his father's office. He went to the cor- 
 ner of the street, and saw people hurry- 
 ing by wagons, street cars and vehicles 
 of all kinds going in all directions. He 
 felt bewildered, and wished that he had 
 stayed at home. 
 
 He knew that his father's office was 
 on California Street, near Montgomery. 
 But where was California Street*? 
 Where, Montgomery^ 
 
 8 
 

 He thought he might venture to ask 
 information of a man who stood near: 
 "Mister, please tell me where Mont- 
 gomery is*?" 
 
 The man was a rough-looking fellow, 
 but answered civilly enough : 
 
 "Montgomery Street, youngster? It's 
 no whar's near here." 
 
 "But I must go there," said Arthur. 
 "I want to find my father's office." 
 
 "Your father's office, eh?" The man 
 laughed. "I guess he's more like to 
 sweep out somebody else's office. You're 
 a pretty-looking kid to have a father 
 with a office." He took the child rough- 
 ly by the chin. 
 
 The boy shook himself free, saying 
 proudly : 
 
 "My father would not sweep out any- 
 body's office. He is Mr. Eldridge." 
 
 "Say that agin, youngster," said the 
 man sharply, stepping a little nearer. 
 
 "My father is Mr. Eldridge. He lives 
 in San Mateo." The man stared at him 
 for a moment. 
 
 "So you're Mr. Eldridge's son, of San 
 Mateo, eh? Well, I happen to know 
 somethin' o' that family. They must 'a 
 come down a peg or two when they'd let 
 their son go dressed like this." He 
 touched Arthur's rough coat. 
 
 
He remarked 
 
 that he 
 
 never had seen 
 any of these 
 streets before 
 
 
"Oh," laughed Arthur, "these are not 
 my clothes." 
 
 He explained how it was that he was 
 dressed in that manner, throwing open 
 his coat to let him have a peep at the 
 spangled jacket beneath. The man lifted 
 the boy's cap, looking well at his face. 
 Replacing it, he muttered: "I hain't seen 
 the little chap for nigh two year, but I 
 declar' I think it's him. What luck!" 
 
 "All right, little feller," he said 
 aloud, "I know yer father. We'll go 
 find him. P'raps he'll give me a quarter 
 fer bringin' yer." 
 
 "Oh, yes," cried Arthur eagerly, "I 
 know he will." 
 
 The man made an effort to be pleasant 
 to the boy as they passed through the 
 streets. Arthur was greatly interested 
 in all he saw, chatting away happily 
 and freely. At last he began to grow 
 very tired and hungry. He remarked 
 that he never had seen any of these 
 streets before, and that it seemed a long 
 way to his father's office. The man 
 laughed, but did not stop until they 
 reached a dirty street near the bay. 
 
 He paused at a large, dingy-looking 
 house, remarking that he must go in there 
 for a moment, as he wished to speak to a 
 friend. The boy would have greatly 
 
 11 
 
 
 

 preferred not going into this miserable- 
 looking building, but was afraid to re- 
 fuse to do so. There was something in 
 the man's manner that rather frightened 
 him. 
 
 They went up several flights of stairs. 
 Inside, as out, the house presented a 
 wretched appearance, seeming to be a 
 kind of low lodging-house. Arthur saw 
 a number of people passing up and down 
 the stairway. He did not like their 
 looks, but somehow felt glad that he was 
 not altogether alone with this man. 
 
 By this time Arthur began to realize 
 that he had done very wrong in coming 
 away from his home at all. He was so 
 tired and hungry that he scarcely could 
 keep the tears back. 
 
 They went to the very top of the 
 house, stopping before a door near the 
 stairway. The man unlocked the door, 
 leading the boy into a large, poorly fur- 
 nished room ; on a table were the remains 
 of a meal. Arthur felt so very hungry 
 that he thought he could eat even that 
 coarse food. He was thirsty, too ; seeing 
 a pitcher on the table, he said timidly, 
 "May I have a drink, please?" 
 
 "Certain, my young gent," pouring 
 out a cupful. Arthur took it, but the 
 smell was enough. He could not bring 
 
 
 
 
 12 
 
himself to taste the muddy-looking mix- 
 ture. 
 
 "This isn't water. It's beer, isn't it"? 
 Please let me have some water." 
 
 "Certain, you can have it. Mighty 
 poor taste in my opinion." 
 
 The man laughed, took the cup, tossed 
 the beer into the pitcher again and going 
 to the side of the room drew some water. 
 Arthur drank it, although it was strongly 
 flavored with beer. 
 
 "If yer hungry, thar's some bread and 
 meat," the man said, pointing to the 
 table. The boy did not feel hungry 
 now; the food would have choked him 
 if he had attempted to swallow it. 
 
 "Won't you please take me to my 
 father 4 ?" he asked. The man answered 
 with a grin that terrified him : 
 
 "Guess I'll wait awhile. I'm tired," 
 he said, throwing himself at full length 
 on the bed, pretending to go to sleep. 
 
 Arthur was now thoroughly alarmed; 
 the tears kept coming into his eyes, feel- 
 ing that not much longer could he restrain 
 them. He wondered what they were 
 doing at home, and if they had missed 
 him. If the man would only awaken 
 and take him to his father's office, he 
 knew his papa would give him more 
 than a quarter. Just then the man 
 
 13 
 

 
 Before he could escape 
 
 a heavy hand 
 was laid upon him 
 

 
 moved slightly. Arthur ran to him, the 
 tears coursing down his cheeks: 
 
 "Oh, please, please won't you take 
 me to my papa*? I can't stay here any 
 longer. They'll think I'm lost. Won't 
 you take me 4 ?" 
 
 The man caught the boy roughly by 
 the arm, frightening him so that he 
 stopped crying. 
 
 "Now you ! Don't you go makin' such 
 a racket, or I'll give you somethin' to 
 stop it mighty quick." 
 
 Arthur was still for a moment. 
 Speaking more quietly, trying to sup- 
 press his sobs, he said : 
 
 "When will you take me away from 
 here? My father'll give you just lots 
 of money. I know he will. I won't tell 
 you frightened me. Ton honor, I 
 won't." 
 
 "Yer're right, small chap. I think 
 yer father'll give me some money, and 
 I mean it to be a big lot." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I know he will. Now do 
 let us go." 
 
 The man lay down again, saying: 
 
 "Not just yet, young shaver." 
 
 Arthur knew by the tone of his voice 
 that there was no use urging him any 
 more. He tried so hard to be brave, but 
 now was almost frantic. He was cry- 
 
 15 
 
ing bitterly, although managing not to 
 make a great deal of noise. 
 
 It was getting dark in the room; Ar- 
 thur heard a key grate in the door; it 
 opened, and a low, heavy-set man came 
 in. Seeing the door open and hoping 
 that his cruel jailer was asleep, he made 
 a spring, reaching the landing. Before 
 he could escape, a heavy hand was laid 
 upon him, and he was quickly jerked 
 back into the room. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 "None o' that. You young scamp!" 
 striking the child a cruel blow. 
 
 Arthur was in despair. He threw 
 himself against the door, kicking, pound- 
 ing it, and screaming with all his 
 strength. He was quickly pulled away, 
 the new man helping, although not in 
 the least comprehending why the boy 
 was there. One of them put his hand 
 over his mouth, while the other lit a 
 candle. 
 
 "Here you, Jim, get me a rope. I'll 
 soon fix him." He threw him on a cot, 
 and securely bound him to it. He re- 
 sisted with all his strength kicked, 
 scratched, and, getting an opportunity, 
 bit the man's hand. His struggles were 
 
 16 
 
of no avail. Soon he lay still, bound, 
 almost unable to breathe because of the 
 bandage tied over his mouth. 
 
 "Why don't yer give him some o' that 
 black stuff? That'd keep him quiet 
 enough." 
 
 Jim told the man, whom he called 
 Nat, to bring the bottle. He poured 
 some of this dark-looking liquid into a 
 teaspoon, seeming rather particular as to 
 the quantity. This they forced Arthur 
 to swallow, he being so very wretched 
 that he scarcely knew what they were 
 doing with him. 
 
 "Guess that'll fix him all right. 
 Spunky little rat, isn't he?" 
 
 It was not long before the drug began 
 to take effect, and Arthur sank into a 
 heavy sleep. 
 
 Jim told Nat that Arthur's father 
 was a very rich man. He hoped to make 
 a large sum of money by concealing his 
 son. At one time he had worked on 
 his father's place, often had seen the 
 child. 
 
 On the day of Arthur's disappearance 
 his mother and sisters, Lillian and Em- 
 ma, had gone to San Francisco for the 
 day, he being left in charge of Betty, 
 his former nurse. He considered him- 
 self much too old for a nurse's care, but 
 
 17 
 
he was her particular charge, she being 
 most devoted to him. 
 
 The afternoon of his leaving home, 
 Betty saw him playing around the 
 grounds. After awhile, not seeing or 
 hearing him, she went to find him, but 
 not doing so readily, she inquired of the 
 other servants. Soon she became very 
 much alarmed. The place was searched 
 thoroughly. They went up the road he 
 had traveled such a short time before, 
 and made inquiries at the depot, but no 
 one could be found who had seen him 
 that day. 
 
 Mr. Eldridge, his wife and daughters, 
 alighted from the train, laughing and 
 chatting together. Betty was there, 
 scarcely able to drag herself forward to 
 tell what she must. 
 
 Emma's sharp eyes saw her first. 
 "Why, mama, there's Betty! Where's 
 Arthur'?" 
 
 Mrs. Eldridge, on catching a glimpse 
 of Betty's face, knew that something 
 was very wrong. 
 
 "Betty!" she exclaimed. "Arthur! 
 Is anything wrong with Arthur*?" 
 
 Betty burst into tears: "O ma'am, O 
 
 ma'am ! We just can't find him at all." 
 
 Mr. Eldridge, to whom the chauffeur 
 
 18 
 
 = C 
 
had been speaking, stepped to Betty's 
 side, greatly excited. 
 
 "What is this John tells me, Betty?" 
 he asked sharply. "You are responsible 
 for Arthur. When did you see him 
 last?' 
 
 "Indeed, indeed, sir, I never left him 
 out of my sight but a short while. You 
 know, ma'am," turning to Mrs. Eld- 
 ridge, "how he hates to be watched. 
 Says as how he's too big for a nurse - 
 me, that loves him so !" 
 
 "Never mind that now," said Mr. 
 Eldridge. "Tell me when you last saw 
 him? Do not be so frightened," he said, 
 turning to his wife and trying to re- 
 assure her. "He is surely somewhere 
 on the place. Stop your crying, Betty, 
 and tell at once where and when you last 
 saw Arthur?" 
 
 Betty told all that had been done to 
 find the missing boy. The poor mother 
 could scarcely stand, as she listened. 
 Mr. Eldridge, looking grave and much 
 troubled, put his wife, the two little 
 girls and Betty into the machine. They 
 were to go home, while he remained long 
 enough to send a message to the police 
 in San Francisco, so that time might not 
 be lost if Arthur should have wandered 
 so far. 
 
 19 
 
The house and entire premises were 
 searched again and again. Messengers 
 were sent in every direction, and person 
 after person interviewed for miles 
 around. The poor mother shed not a 
 tear, but set herself steadfastly to find 
 her boy. She went to the neighbors' 
 houses, questioning their children with 
 whom Arthur sometimes played. 
 
 It was all in vain. There crept into 
 the mother's face a hopeless look, as she 
 passed from place to place, calling, at 
 first aloud, then in a whisper: "Arthur! 
 Arthur!" 
 
 In the middle of the night, Mr. Eld- 
 ridge started to San Francisco to hasten 
 the search that was already being made 
 there. Mrs. Eldridge remained at home, 
 feeling that her boy must be found 
 here where she had seen him last. 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 When Arthur awoke from his deep 
 sleep it was broad daylight. At first 
 he could remember nothing of what had 
 happened to him. After awhile it all 
 seemed more like a dream than reality. 
 He felt very wretched, his head so 
 heavy, his face burning hot. He wanted 
 a drink of water, but there seemed to 
 
 20 
 

 be no one in the room to get it for him. 
 He thought of his mother, wishing she 
 were here; even old Betty, whom he 
 often deemed a nuisance. He wondered 
 in a vague way what they all were do- 
 ing at home. Why did not his papa 
 come and find him? He tried to rise 
 from the cot, but found himself still 
 bound down. 
 
 The door opened, and the man, Nat, 
 came in, carrying a small pitcher. Put- 
 ting it down, he went at once to Arthur. 
 He examined him carefully, muttering 
 to himself: "Guess the kid won't give 
 much more trouble now." 
 
 Arthur opened his eyes. He had 
 fallen into a kind of stupor. On seeing 
 the man, he said faintly: "Water, please 
 some water." 
 
 Nat untied the rope, remarking he 
 guessed they might get along without 
 that. He gave Arthur a drink. Nat 
 seemed somewhat alarmed at his condi- 
 tion and lifted him, changing his posi- 
 tion. In a clumsy manner, he tried to 
 make him more comfortable. The boy 
 lay like a log, taking no notice of his 
 surroundings. 
 
 The man poured some milk from the 
 pitcher, putting it to Arthur's lips. He 
 drank some and it seemed to do him 
 
 21 
 
good. Very soon he sank into a more 
 natural sleep. 
 
 When next Arthur awoke it was again 
 night. There was a candle burning on 
 the table. The two men sat talking 
 very earnestly. Arthur knew they were 
 talking of him. Heard them say some- 
 thing about money; that they must get 
 him away that very night. They spoke 
 of the police hunting everywhere, al- 
 though Arthur could not comprehend 
 what for. All this time Nat and Jim 
 were drinking freely. 
 
 Now it was a very strange thing, but 
 the boy did not seem to know that he 
 was Arthur Eldridge. He had not the 
 slightest recollection of his home, par- 
 ents, or of anything connected with his 
 past life. He now believed himself to 
 be "Charley Maylard," the circus boy, 
 the game he had played on the train. He 
 thought his father and mother were 
 dead, and that he had been taken by a 
 cruel circus man. Now he was trying 
 to run away. 
 
 The men were busily talking. Ar- 
 thur, seeing the key in the door, hoped 
 he might escape without being seen. The 
 fever* in his veins gave him strength for 
 the time being. Fortune favored him. 
 The men soon fell to quarreling. One 
 
 22 
 

 
 struck the other, whereupon he threw 
 the contents of his cup in his opponent's 
 face, the liquor flying over the table, 
 extinguishing the candle. 
 
 In a moment Arthur was up, had 
 reached the door and was gone ! The 
 stairs were directly in front of him. 
 Running down rapidly, but noiselessly, 
 he was out in the street. 
 
 It was very dark, but he feared noth- 
 ing just then but being recaptured by 
 his dreaded persecutors. He ran as fast 
 as he could. After going what seemed 
 to him a very long distance, he came to 
 a wharf. 
 
 The poor little forlorn, sick child, for 
 he was indeed very ill, crouched behind 
 a big pile of lumber. He must have re- 
 mained there several hours, sleeping 
 some, but most of the time straining 
 every nerve in fear of those men. 
 
 Toward morning, from exhaustion, 
 he slept more soundly. Upon awaken- 
 ing, he found the sun had risen, and was 
 shining full upon him. He was quite 
 hidden from observation by the lumber, 
 but could hear the rumbling of vehicles, 
 and the voices of many people passing 
 near. At first he was too timid to move, 
 but finally found courage to peep from 
 his hiding-place. 
 
 23 
 
He saw a wharf, extending far out 
 into the water. A large steamer was 
 lying close by. The wagons he had 
 heard were carrying freight to her. He 
 could see the people bustling about, 
 making preparations for their voyage. 
 
 It was an Australian steamer. In half 
 an hour it was to leave the dock. Cer- 
 tainly Arthur knew nothing of her 
 destination, but wished himself on 
 board that he might be out of danger. 
 Final ly he summoned courage to follow 
 some of the passengers, as they passed 
 on to the steamer. No one stopped him. 
 Soon he stood on deck of the good ship 
 Alger. A little later she started on her 
 long voyage, bearing with her our little 
 hero. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Arthur was very weary, and sank into 
 the nearest seat. Many people were on 
 deck, but so busily engaged with their 
 own affairs that none for a time noticed 
 the condition of the boy. Presently a 
 lady and gentleman were walking up 
 and down the deck. The lady was quick 
 to notice distress of any kind, and had 
 several times glanced curiously at Ar- 
 thur. 
 
 "I wish you would speak to that child, 
 
 24 
 

 dear," she said to her husband. "I think 
 he must be sick or something; just look 
 how he hangs his head." 
 
 The gentleman raised Arthur's droop- 
 ing head. Arthur was frightened at be- 
 ing addressed by any one. Sick as he 
 was, he attempted to rise and move 
 away. But this time he was so very 
 weak that he found it quite impossible 
 to move. He looked appeal ingly at the 
 lady and gentleman, and began to cry. 
 
 Mrs. Henderson sat down beside him. 
 Putting her arms around the child, she 
 tried to soothe him. When he grew 
 more quiet, Mr. Henderson asked him: 
 
 "My little man, to whom do you be- 
 long? Where are your friends'? I will 
 find them for you," thinking, of course, 
 they must be on the steamer. 
 
 Arthur, with many sobs, said he had 
 no friends, repeating the story he still 
 believed to be the true one: his parents 
 were dead, his name was Charley May- 
 lard, he had been taken by a circus man, 
 cruelly treated, and had run away. The 
 pitiful tale ended, he begged them not 
 to let those men find him again. 
 
 They fully believed this story, and 
 only asked themselves what was now best 
 to be done. They saw that he was very 
 ill, as he almost immediately sank again 
 
 25 
 
 ^ 
 
into the stupor from which they had 
 aroused him. Mr. Henderson, telling 
 his wife to remain with the boy, went 
 at once to consult the officers of the 
 steamer. He soon returned with the 
 captain, to whom they repeated the 
 story. The captain said it was a pitiful 
 tale, but he could not say how far it 
 was true. The boy might be a little 
 thief, trying to escape from the police. 
 
 "I am sure," said Mrs. Henderson, 
 "that what he tells of himself is true. 
 Just look at his innocent, pretty face. 
 You did not see his eyes, or I am satis- 
 fied you would never think evil of the 
 poor child. He now is certainly in need 
 of most tender care. If you will assign 
 to us a stateroom for him - ," here 
 she glanced at her husband for approval. 
 
 "We will hold ourselves responsible 
 for all expenses incurred," added Mr. 
 Henderson. 
 
 The boy was soon undressed, bathed, 
 and placed in a comfortable berth. He 
 was found to be in a high fever. Very 
 soon he became delirious, raving con- 
 stantly of those men. The doctor gave 
 it as his opinion that he was suffering 
 from a terrible fright, and surmised 
 some strong narcotic had been adminis- 
 tered. 
 
 26 
 

 Mr. and Mrs. Henderson undertook 
 the entire care of the boy, Mrs. Hender- 
 son and her maid, Hannah, nursing him 
 by night and day. Hannah had un- 
 dressed Arthur, and when she was alone 
 with her mistress, she said: 
 
 "Didn't you say, ma'am, how as he 
 said he was a circus boy*? I think as it's 
 true then. Just look 'ee here. It's sure- 
 ly a circus jacket." 
 
 She held up for Mrs. Henderson's in- 
 spection the little spangled jacket that 
 Lillian had made for her brother. It 
 had been worn by him under his rough 
 coat. Mrs. Henderson took it to her 
 husband, and both believed this was 
 indeed proof of the boy's statement. 
 
 After many days and nights of suffer- 
 ing and weariness, Arthur was pro- 
 nounced out of danger, his strength re- 
 turning slowly. At last the physician 
 thought it quite safe for him to be car- 
 ried out on deck. This was a great 
 event; Mr. Henderson would allow no 
 one but himself to carry the little 
 invalid. 
 
 The child indeed made a pretty pic- 
 ture, as he lay in the hammock that had 
 been swung for him. His hair had 
 grown long, was wavy and of a golden 
 color; his skin was soft, like a baby's; 
 
 27 
 
in his cheeks was a faint, delicate glow. 
 His large brown eyes gazed at one with 
 a gentle, wistful expression, that never 
 had been seen in the eyes of Arthur 
 Eldridge. 
 
 Hannah made the "pretty dear," as 
 she called him, some clothing out of such 
 things as Mrs. Henderson happened to 
 have with her. A favorite velvet cloak 
 was sacrificed for this purpose. The boy 
 certainly looked a little prince in this 
 costume, with its wide collar and cuffs 
 of rich lace. Had Arthur been himself, 
 he would most certainly have disdained 
 this "frumpery," with which he was 
 adorned; probably have declared it only 
 fit for girls. For several months it had 
 been his ambition to wear long pants 
 and stand-up collars Frank had 'em. 
 
 Every one on the steamer was greatly 
 interested in the little stranger. The 
 children at first felt some awe of him, 
 but finding him always so sweet and 
 gentle, they soon began to talk to him 
 freely, begging him to join in their 
 plays. Arthur was not strong enough 
 to play very much, liking best to sit in 
 his steamer chair, or lie in his hammock 
 having Mary Temple, a little girl of 
 whom he had grown very fond, sit and 
 talk to him. 
 
 28 
 

 She told him about her home in Eng- 
 land, and said she was going to see her 
 father in Australia. She told Arthur 
 her mother had died many years before 
 when she was a little baby. 
 
 "Your mother is dead, and your 
 father too, poor Charley!" Mary looked 
 pityingly at her young friend. She had 
 heard his story discussed by the people 
 on the steamer. 
 
 "Yes, Mary," answered the boy re- 
 luctantly. "My father and mother are 
 dead. I was taken by a cruel circus 
 man," repeating the statement he al- 
 ways made. 
 
 This seemed to be a kind of a formula 
 with him. Mrs. Henderson was stand- 
 ing near, and hoped he would speak 
 more fully while talking to Mary, but 
 on looking at him and seeing the far- 
 away expression that always shadowed 
 his face at the slightest mention of his 
 former life, she hastened to interrupt 
 their conversation. 
 
 Several people on the steamer offered 
 to provide for the boy, who had made 
 his appearance so mysteriously among 
 them. But Mr. and Mrs. Henderson 
 announced their intention of adopting 
 the little waif as their son. 
 
 They wished very much to know 
 
 29 
 
something more about him, and won- 
 dered that he said so little of his life 
 before his appearance on the steamer. 
 Of his parents, excepting to say they 
 were dead, he never spoke at all. At the 
 slightest mention of them, the same 
 puzzled expression would come into his 
 face that they had noticed from the 
 first. 
 
 He shrank pitifully from speaking of 
 the time he was with those cruel men, 
 but that he had not forgotten was quite 
 certain, for many times he would wake 
 screaming from his sleep. He would 
 cling to Hannah, who slept near him, 
 and entreat her not to let them take him 
 away. 
 
 The doctor thought that with the ten- 
 der care he would now receive, this 
 would gradually pass away. He said 
 that he had been watching him closely, 
 had come to the conclusion that his 
 memory was impaired. He ventured 
 to say that he knew nothing about him- 
 self beyond the mere statement he made. 
 He thought as his health returned, his 
 memory would improve, and he would 
 be able to give a satisfactory account 
 of himself. In the meantime, he ad- 
 vised that no questions should be asked 
 him on the subject. 
 
 30 
 
 

 The long voyage came to an end, and 
 Arthur was sorry to say good-bye to the 
 many friends he had made on the steam- 
 er. It was quite a little levee he held on 
 deck, all coming to see the interesting 
 invalid boy. His delicate, sensitive face 
 showed much feeling, as they expressed 
 loving hopes for his happy future. 
 
 In the care of his kind guardians, 
 Arthur left the steamer. He seemed 
 very tired, and leaned back wearily. He 
 put a hand in Mrs. Henderson's and one 
 in her husband's, saying in a weak voice : 
 
 "I will always have you, won't I, 
 dear Auntie and Uncle'?" They had 
 taught him to call them so. 
 
 The Henderson home was a few miles 
 out in the country, not far from the city 
 of Melbourne. It was a very beautiful 
 place, almost palatial in its appoint- 
 ments. They drove up the long avenue, 
 leading to the house. Gazing out upon 
 the magnificent grounds, Arthur said : 
 
 "Is this the place you told me about, 
 Auntie'?" 
 
 "Yes, dear. Is it not beautiful 4 ?" 
 She spoke a little eagerly, for she dearly 
 loved her home. It seemed to her that 
 this child, brought up, as she supposed, 
 in poverty, would be most happy at the 
 thought of having such a home as this. 
 
 31 
 
She was a little ^disappointed when he 
 answered : 
 
 "It's very nice," but without a tinge 
 of enthusiasm, and rather a touch of sad- 
 ness in his voice. As he looked at her, 
 there was in his eyes that far-away, pa- 
 thetic expression that she could not en- 
 dure to see there. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Mr. Eldridge, Arthur's father, ar- 
 rived in San Francisco in the middle of 
 the night, and found that the police 
 were doing all in their power to trace 
 the lost boy. Everything that love and 
 money could do was done to find him. 
 But not the faintest hope was brought to 
 the bereaved family. The poor mother, 
 it seemed, would surely sink under her 
 heavy grief. The father, though stronger, 
 turned from a happy, genial man, to one 
 unutterably sad. 
 
 The health of Mrs. Eldridge became so 
 alarming that the doctor declared it was 
 necessary for her to be removed from the 
 scene of her sorrow. He advised taking 
 a long sea voyage. For a time the poor 
 mother utterly refused to go, saying she 
 could not relinquish the hope that her 
 darling would be found here where she 
 
 32 
 
 
had seen him last. How could she go, 
 she asked, when perhaps tomorrow, to- 
 day, an hour, might bring news of him'? 
 Her husband begged her to remember 
 that they could be reached by wireless at 
 any time on the steamer; that every day 
 spent here was endangering her life; that 
 in refusing to make an effort for the 
 restoration of her health, she was for- 
 getting him and her remaining children. 
 
 A reluctant consent was finally given, 
 and it was decided to take a trip to 
 Australia. Arrangements were soon 
 made, and they started on their journey. 
 Lillian and Emma were left with rela- 
 tives. 
 
 The little boy now in Australia, and 
 whom they called "Charley," seemed 
 somewhat stronger since their arrival. 
 
 A few weeks later came the happy 
 Christmas-time. Perhaps you know that 
 when we are having our winter weather, 
 it is summer in Australia. Would it 
 not seem strange indeecj for our Christ- 
 mas Day to be uncomfortably hot*? The 
 children in Australia know nothing else. 
 It must indeed seem very odd when they 
 read about our St. Nick, and see him in 
 his pictures all wrapped up in furs. Per- 
 haps they have a Santa Claus appropri- 
 ate to their climate. Probably he would 
 
 33 
 
wear a Panama hat and a linen suit. 
 But even so, just think how our jolly 
 old Santa would groan and perspire 
 under his load of good things, for surely 
 they never could have the heart to make 
 him thin. 
 
 Arthur was awake rather early on 
 Christmas morning, and lay listening to 
 the twittering of the birds outside of 
 his window. Mrs. Henderson came 
 softly to his bedside: 
 
 "Are you awake, dear? I will call 
 Hannah," for she still attended Arthur. 
 "You must hurry now and get dressed. 
 It is Christmas morning, you know, 
 dear." 
 
 After breakfast they took Arthur to a 
 large room, the windows of which were 
 closely draped, so as to exclude all day- 
 light. At one end was a brilliantly 
 lighted Christmas-tree, one dazzling mass 
 of light and color. Hovering over the 
 tree were pure white doves. They hung 
 there with outspread wings, some high, 
 some low, some touching its glistening 
 branches, but so cunningly suspended, 
 and looking so much alive, poised there 
 in the air, that Arthur and the children 
 were for the moment deceived. 
 
 Gathered around the tree was a party 
 of little folk, both boys and girls. They 
 
 34 
 
 
were the children of poor people. It was 
 the custom of Mr. and Mrs. Henderson 
 to gather together a number of these 
 children every year, and to make for 
 them a happy Christmas-time. There 
 was always a tree, but never before had 
 they seen such a beautiful one as this. 
 
 As they entered the room, the tones 
 of a piano were heard, and children's 
 voices burst into a glad Christmas carol. 
 When the song was finished, Arthur 
 clapped his hands, showing more enthu- 
 siasm than was usual with him. 
 
 Gifts were distributed to the young 
 guests, until their arms were fairly 
 loaded with them. Candy and other 
 sweetmeats were abundantly provided. 
 
 Once more the children gathered about 
 the tree, and another carol was sung. 
 At a whispered word from Mrs. Hen- 
 derson, each child came forward and 
 timidly shook hands with Arthur. He 
 smiled, and wished them a very merry 
 Christmas. 
 
 After the children had gone, Mr. 
 Henderson turned to Arthur: "Now 
 we will give our own boy his gifts." 
 
 Package after package was presented 
 to him: a railroad train that went by 
 steam; wagons, boats, horses, knives, 
 paint-boxes, picture games, books; in 
 
 35 
 

 f 
 
 fact everything that could be thought of 
 to please a boy's heart was there. 
 
 After he had examined his toys, they 
 told him that Santa Claus had left him 
 something outside that they thought he 
 would like best of all. Lifting the cur- 
 tains he saw standing on the graveled 
 walk, the sweetest little turnout that 
 ever was seen a diminutive low car- 
 riage, drawn by two of the prettiest little 
 ponies in all the world. Arthur clapped 
 his hands. Nothing had seemed to 
 arouse him like this. 
 
 They told him that he was to have a 
 pony to ride as soon as he was strong 
 enough. He seemed so greatly pleased 
 at this that it was not many days before 
 it was sent for, his kind friends thinking 
 it would please him to pet and make 
 friends with the little animal. 
 
 In selecting the pony, Mr. Henderson 
 had chosen a black one. This was the 
 very color of the one that had been 
 Arthur's in his home in California. As 
 the groom led forward the pony, the boy 
 acted very strangely. There came into 
 his eyes an eagerness, the old far-away 
 expression, so wistful, and this time 
 more intense that it ever had been. 
 
 He went toward the pony, gazing 
 fixedly at it. Before taking many steps 
 
 36 
 
 
 
 
 
he stopped, pressing his hands to his 
 head, crying aloud: "Oh, what is it? 
 I can't remember. Help me, Auntie!" 
 throwing himself into her outstretched 
 arms. 
 
 They were greatly alarmed. Mr. 
 Henderson motioned the groom to take 
 the pony away. 
 
 "No, no! " cried the child. "Do let 
 me have him. I'm better now. I don't 
 know what it is, Auntie and Uncle, but 
 sometimes it seems as if such strange 
 things happen to me a long, long 
 time ago I almost remember them. 
 I thought the pony used to be 
 mine in some other place. Yes, 
 Auntie, his name was was Prince." 
 
 The boy stood clasping his hands, 
 with eyes that seemed to see nothing 
 about him: 
 
 "I wonder who Emma is, Auntie?" 
 he asked after a few moments. "I 
 think I know Emma. Do you think 
 she was my sister?" 
 
 "Oh, I do not know, dear," answered 
 Mrs. Henderson, greatly distressed. 
 "Do try not to think any more just now. 
 Come into the house and rest." Arthur 
 patted the pony, and went in obediently. 
 
 The physician was summoned at once, 
 but before his arrival Arthur had sunk 
 
 37 
 
into a deep sleep. On being informed 
 of what had occurred, he said that he 
 thought, instead of being alarmed, they 
 might feel satisfaction in this effort of 
 his memory to assert itself. He con- 
 sidered it a certain indication of return- 
 ing health. He hoped that within a 
 short time he would be able to recall his 
 entire past life. On no account must 
 he be disturbed, but allowed to sleep as 
 long as he would. 
 
 Arthur slept eight hours, and when 
 he awoke he seemed much brighter, his 
 eyes were clearer, and his skin of a more 
 natural color. 
 
 "Do you know, Auntie, there was 
 such a pretty lady in my dreams just 
 now. Don't you think perhaps she 
 was my mama 4 ? She put out her arms 
 to me, and I said, 'Mama!' but then I 
 woke up," and he sighed. 
 
 Mrs. Henderson talked to him of 
 other things. Gradually the memories 
 seemed to fade away. The pony proved 
 a great delight to Arthur, and every day 
 he fed and petted him; he called him 
 "Prince." 
 
 My young readers, I would like to 
 take you with me on a trip to the big 
 Australian steamer that is away out on 
 the deep ocean. How are we to reach 
 
 38 
 
 

 
 
 this good ship Alger, for it is the very 
 one that brought Arthur to his new 
 home, a few months before. We are 
 certainly not rich enough to charter a 
 steamer, and there is none going out 
 just now that could by any possibility 
 meet her. There is no bridge. I will 
 tell you what we will do. We will sail 
 "On the wings of imagination ! " Then 
 we would see a lady sitting on the deck, 
 almost in the very spot, for it was a 
 sheltered one, where Arthur had been 
 accustomed to sit nearly every day, a 
 pale, sad-looking lady; when she gazes 
 far away over the waters, there is an 
 expression in her eyes which reminds one 
 of the little invalid boy. This resem- 
 blance must have been very striking just 
 then, for, as she took a shawl from the 
 stewardess, she was surprised to see her 
 start back, as if she had received a shock. 
 
 "Oh, ma'am! You must excuse me. 
 You do look so like the little boy! " 
 
 "What little boy? " Mrs. Eldridge 
 was full of interest at once. The stew- 
 ardess told her all she knew of the boy 
 that had been found on this very steamer 
 a few months before. Mrs. Eldridge 
 grew so excited that she scarcely could 
 speak, while the stewardess hurried 
 away for the husband. 
 
 39 
 
She was surprised 
 to see her start back, 
 
 as if she had 
 received a shock. 
 
Mr. Eldridge listened eagerly to the 
 story, but begged his wife to moderate 
 her hopes until all possible inquiries 
 could be made. He at once went for 
 the captain, bringing him to his wife's 
 stateroom, where she had retired, almost 
 overcome with emotion. 
 
 He corroborated in every particular 
 the story told by the stewardess, but 
 said he feared there could be no hope 
 that the boy was their lost son. The 
 child knew perfectly well who he was; 
 had said from the first that his name was 
 "Charley Maylard," that his father and 
 mother were dead. 
 
 There was indeed not much in this 
 story to bring hope to the sorrowing 
 parents. Mr. Eldridge gently explained 
 this to his wife, but she would answer: 
 "I cannot help hoping. Something tells 
 me I may." 
 
 The steamer arrived safely at her des- 
 tination. The last weeks had seemed 
 almost intolerable to the parents. As 
 soon as they could land, with feverish 
 eagerness Mrs. Eldridge begged her hus- 
 band not to lose a moment in his search 
 for the boy of whom they had heard on 
 the steamer. 
 
 It was not difficult to find Mr. and 
 Mrs. Henderson. Mr. Eldridge ascer- 
 
 41 
 
tained that they still had the boy under 
 their care. 
 
 It was about eleven o'clock in the 
 morning when they arrived at the Hen- 
 derson's residence. As they drove up 
 the long avenue, leading to the house, 
 Mrs. Eldridge looked about her, saying 
 hopefully, "Our Arthur may have been 
 playing under these very trees this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 They alighted and were admitted al- 
 most immediately. Mr. Eldridge sent 
 in his card, begging an interview with 
 Mr. and Mrs. Henderson on business 
 concerning their adopted son. 
 
 They had not long to wait, and were 
 cordially received. Mr. Eldridge at 
 once entered upon the subject of their 
 errand. He spoke of their loss, and told 
 how they had undertaken this trip to 
 Australia for the benefit of his wife's 
 health. He said they had come over 
 on the ship Alger, and had heard the 
 strange story of the boy. Here his wife 
 could no longer restrain herself, crying 
 eagerly : 
 
 "Oh, let us see him! Please, please 
 don't wait! My heart is breaking!" 
 The tears streamed down the poor 
 mother's face. Mrs. Henderson, too, 
 was crying. 
 
 42 
 

 "You shall see him, my dear," an- 
 swered Mrs. Henderson. "He is out 
 driving now, but will not be gone long. 
 You shall see him. If he proves to be 
 your lost one, as dear as he is to us, and 
 he seems like our very own, we will 
 gladly restore him to you." 
 
 While they awaited Arthur's coming, 
 Mr. Henderson told them every par- 
 ticular as to the finding of the boy. He 
 explained his present condition, saying 
 that they believed his health was im- 
 proving, but that, as yet, he certainly 
 had not entirely recovered his memory. 
 They felt fully convinced that the ac- 
 count he gave of himself was a true one. 
 They told how this belief had been con- 
 firmed by his having had on, when found, 
 a little circus jacket. Mrs. Henderson 
 proposed that they should examine the 
 clothing worn by him at the time of his 
 coming. Bancroft Library 
 
 The package was sent for. The un- 
 derclothing was of such good quality 
 that it had always been a source of sur- 
 prise to Mrs. Henderson, believing as 
 she did that the boy came of very poor 
 people. Mrs. Eldridge took them in her 
 hands, examining them tenderly, but 
 shook her head: "I do not know. I 
 cannot say that these were Arthur's." 
 
 43 
 
Mrs. Henderson unfolded the small 
 spangled jacket. At sight of this, the 
 mother seized it quickly. 
 
 "Oh, I believe this was Arthur's! I 
 remember it now, although I have never 
 thought of it since his disappearance." 
 
 As well as she could, in her great ex- 
 citement, she explained how Lillian had 
 made her brother a circus jacket and cap. 
 The cap was not there, but she believed 
 this was the jacket. 
 
 Mrs. Henderson heard the sound of 
 wheels; stepping to the window : "The 
 child is here," she said. "Will you look 
 at him from the window^ " 
 
 Mr. Eldridge passed his arm about his 
 wife, gently drawing her forward. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Henderson stood, scarcely 
 breathing. They fully realized the 
 grief it would be to them if the boy 
 should be claimed. Yet these generous 
 souls prayed that it might be so. 
 
 The parents, as they stood looking out 
 of the window, saw a little low carriage 
 drawn by two white ponies. A frail- 
 looking little boy had just alighted. He 
 wore long yellow curls hanging on his 
 shoulders. His hair was banged in 
 front, English fashion. He wore a dark, 
 wine-colored suit, with deep collar and 
 cuffs of lace, a Scotch cap on his head. 
 
 44 
 

 
 
 
 His appearance was altogether of a 
 much younger child than Arthur. A 
 picture of him as she had seen him last 
 flashed across the mother a strong, 
 active boy, dressed in boyish fashion: 
 plain cloth suit, narrow linen collar, 
 loose tie, and stout buttoned boots, his 
 hair cut close to his head, for he hated 
 the sign of a curl. 
 
 The mother sighed deeply, and was 
 about to exclaim that this could not be 
 Arthur, when the boy glanced up at the 
 window. Seeing Mr. and Mrs. Hen- 
 derson, he lifted his cap and smiled. 
 Then indeed the parents knew their 
 child! 
 
 Mrs. Eldridge turned to her husband, 
 crying: "It is Arthur! It is Arthur! " 
 
 The father, for the first time in this 
 dreadful experience, broke completely 
 down. Heavy sobs choked him. "Yes. 
 Oh, thank God ! It is our son ! " 
 
 The doctor was sent for. Any delay 
 was of course torture to the bereaved 
 parents, but they fully realized that 
 great precaution must be taken for one 
 in his condition. 
 
 On the doctor's arrival, and the new 
 facts laid before him, he said that un- 
 doubtedly the boy's memory, instead of 
 being partially clouded, was wholly so. 
 
 45 
 
 
He had suspected something of this, al- 
 most from the first time he had seen him, 
 but had hesitated to say so, as the boy 
 was always so positive in his account of 
 himself. His health had very much 
 improved, and possibly, the doctor 
 thought, he might entirely recover his 
 memory at sight of his parents. At all 
 events, in his opinion, there would be 
 little risk in trying this, and at once. 
 He proposed that Mrs. Henderson 
 should prepare him somewhat by telling 
 him the story of his own life. 
 
 Arthur was sent for. The parents 
 were concealed by some draperies, but 
 were near enough to hear all that passed. 
 
 On entering the room Arthur found 
 Mrs. Henderson alone. She drew him 
 to her, passing her arms lovingly about 
 him. 
 
 "Well, dear, have you had a pleasant 
 ride this morning*? " 
 
 Arthur was enthusiastic, as he told 
 her that he was sure he had the pretti- 
 est ponies in all the world. He seemed 
 a little tired, leaning his head affection- 
 ately against her. She passed her hand 
 caressingly over his head. As she 
 pressed her lips to his forehead, there 
 was sorrow in her heart, tears in her eyes. 
 But at once she took herself to task for 
 
 46 
 
what she deemed her selfishness. She 
 thought of all the parents had suffered, 
 and of their present happiness, and her 
 heart was filled with gladness and grati- 
 tude that the child had been restored 
 through her husband and herself. 
 
 Behind the curtains, the father re- 
 strained the mother, fearing that in her 
 eagerness she would be unable to wait 
 to clasp her boy in her arms. 
 
 "I want to tell you a story, dear," be- 
 gan Mrs. Henderson. "Many miles 
 away from here, near a city called 
 San Francisco Here she paused, 
 
 hoping he would recognize the name. 
 He lifted his head, looked at her with 
 something of the old puzzled expres- 
 sion: 
 
 "Auntie, where' ve I heard that 
 name?" I don't think I'll like that 
 story, Auntie." 
 
 He looked up in her face appealingly, 
 whispering, "I think that's where the 
 bad circus man kept me." 
 
 "Never mind that, dear. You are not 
 afraid, now that you have us to take 
 care of you. I want to tell you about 
 a little boy who lived there. One day 
 his mother and sisters went to the city, 
 leaving him in charge of his old nurse. 
 After awhile she missed him, and 
 
 47 
 
 
A lovely lady 
 coming toward him 
 
 with 
 outstretched aims 
 
Ar thur " speaking the name slow- 
 ly and distinctly. The boy jumped to 
 his feet, crying excitedly: 
 
 "Oh, wait, Auntie! Let me think! 
 Did you say his name was Arthur 4 ? 
 Wait, Auntie, Arthur Arthur Ar- 
 thur El dridge. Oh, Auntie, who 
 was Arthur Eldridge? " 
 
 Mrs. Henderson saw the curtains 
 tremble, and knew that not long could 
 the parents restrain themselves. 
 
 "Try to think, dear. Did you ever 
 know Arthur Eldridge? And did he 
 have two sisters, named- 
 Arthur broke in with, "Emma and 
 Lillian ! Wait, Auntie. I'll think some 
 more in a minute." 
 
 She gently turned him around, that he 
 might see what she saw a lovely lady 
 coming toward him with outstretched 
 arms, and eyes looking unutterable love 
 and longing. 
 
 Arthur gazed a moment, shrinking a 
 little, the puzzled expression coming 
 into his face. Another moment, and it 
 was gone! His face lit up, his mother 
 knew she was recognized. 
 
 He ran to her, crying: "Mama! 
 Mama! Where have you been all this 
 time? " 
 
 As Mrs. Henderson slipped quietly 
 
 49 
 
 
 
away, she heard the child exclaim: 
 "Papa, why didn't you come and take 
 me away from that bad man^ " 
 
 She knew he had found both father 
 and mother. 
 
 [THE END.]