LIBR, 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Education 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Louise Barrow Barr 
 
EUGEXE AX I) KlXG BOOZV. 
 
THE 
 
 KING OF THE PARK 
 
 BY 
 
 MARSHALL SAUNDERS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "BEAUTIFUL JOE," "CHARLES AND HIS LAMB, 
 " FOR THE OTHER BOY'S SAKE," ETC. 
 
 FOURTH THOUSAND 
 
 NEW YORK : 46 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON: 100 PURCHASE STREET 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1897, 
 BY THOMAS Y. CBOWELL & COMPANY. 
 
 Education 
 
 GIFT 
 
 TYPOGRAPHY BY C. J. PETERS & SON, BOSTON. 
 
 PRESSWORK BY ROCKWELL & CHURCHILL. 
 
/< i 
 
 n 
 
 I INSCKIBE THIS BOOK 
 
 TO 
 
 POLICE-SERGEANT CHARLES WESLEY HEBARD 
 
 OF THE BACK BAY FENS, AND HIS HUMANE 
 
 ASSOCIATES, 
 
 TO 
 
 MRS. HEBARD, 
 
 HIS KiND-HEARTED WIFE, AND TO THE PARENTS 
 OF THE DEAR GIRLS AND BOYS WHO PLAY 
 ABOUT THE HOME OF THE WELL- 
 KNOWN KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 MARSHALL SAUNDERS. 
 
 332 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR 1 
 
 II. KING BOOZY 21 
 
 III. A CHILD IN TROUBLE 42 
 
 IV. THE REST OF THE CATS . . . . . . . 69 
 
 V. MRS. HARDY MAKES A CALL 84 
 
 VI. EUGENE is ARRESTED 97 
 
 VII. THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAR AND OTHER 
 
 THINGS Ill 
 
 VIII. A KING TO THE RESCUE 128 
 
 
 
 IX. MONSIEUR LE CURE ARRIVES 140 
 
 X. A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE 161 
 
 XI. THAT WOMAN 188 
 
 XII. THE RETURN. 213 
 
THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 
 
 POLICE SERGEANT HARDY stood near the 
 Boylston Street entrance to the Fens, his back 
 toward the hundred and fifteen acres of park 
 land which it was his duty to guard, his good- 
 natured face overspread by a smile, as he 
 watched a young lady taking a bicycle lesson 
 in a secluded walk on his left. 
 
 The young lady approached the machine 
 held by her instructor as if it were a horse, 
 then springing nimbly on it, her features be- 
 came rigid with anxiety as she found that her 
 steed would neither go on nor stand still. 
 
 Her heroic grapplings and wrestlings with 
 it, her wild gyrations to and fro in the walk, 
 while her teacher dashed madly after her, were 
 l 
 
2 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 so ludicrous that the sergeant, although he 
 was well used to such spectacles, was obliged 
 to turn away to conceal the broad grin that 
 overspread his countenance. 
 
 The next object of his attention was a Gor- 
 don setter who was gayly trotting into the 
 park, but who, on catching the sergeant's eye, 
 at once changed his happy-go-lucky demeanor 
 for a guilty shambling gait. 
 
 " What are you doing here, Mr. Ormistead's 
 dog?" said the sergeant in a stern voice, as 
 he glanced at the animal's collar. " Where's 
 your escort ? " 
 
 The setter immediately prostrated himself on 
 the ground, but his humble attitude was belied 
 by the roguish don't-care expression of the eyes 
 he rolled up at the guardian of the law. 
 
 The sergeant waved his hand at him. u Get 
 home with you. You know you can't run 
 loose here. What would the ducks and the 
 cats say to you ; or rather, what would you 
 say to them ? " 
 
 The dog was not ready to give in. He 
 extended the tip of a very pink tongue, and 
 
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 3 
 
 meekly licked the tip of the sergeant's shiny 
 boot. 
 
 "No nonsense now," said the man firmly. 
 " You can't humbug me, and you understand 
 that as well as a Christian. Run home with 
 you." 
 
 The dog sprang up, resumed his careless air, 
 and trotted calmly from the park by the road- 
 way through which he had come. 
 
 The sergeant sauntered on. It was a charm- 
 ing September morning. He met a few pedes- 
 trians and many nurses and children. It was 
 yet rather early in the day for the carriage 
 people to be out. 
 
 A succession of angry childish shrieks made 
 him suddenly wheel round, and look in the 
 direction from which he had come. Two 
 nurses and two children stood by the stone 
 seats near the group of bronze figures erected 
 to the memory of John Boyle O'Reilly. 
 
 The sergeant strolled slowly back to them. 
 One of the nurses bent over a little girl who 
 was sobbing violently, and was stamping her 
 foot at a foreign-looking lad with a pale face, 
 
4 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 who stood at a little distance from her. His 
 nurse, or attendant, for he was rather too old 
 a child to come entirely under a nursery re- 
 gime, supported him by her presence, and would 
 have taken his hand in hers if he had not 
 drawn it from her. 
 
 "And sure you've hurt her this time with 
 your murderin' Frenchy temper," exclaimed 
 the little girl's nurse, looking away from her 
 sobbing charge at the silent boy. " It's a 
 batein' you ought to have. Come now, tell us 
 what you were after a-doing to her?" 
 
 " He took me by the arm and the leg, and 
 he sweeped the ground with me," cried the 
 little girl peeping at him from between her 
 fingers. 
 
 " Och, the young villain," interrupted her 
 nurse, "and did you?" 
 
 The boy shrugged his shoulders. " Yes, it 
 is true ; but afterwards- I embraced her." 
 
 "By the soul of love, but you're the queer 
 boy," responded the nurse warmly; "and it's 
 the likes of you makes the men that thinks 
 they can drag us women round the earth by 
 
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 5 
 
 the hair of our heads, and then make it up .with 
 a I'm sorry for ye, me dear Bad luck 
 to ye." 
 
 k ' Hush now, Bridget," interposed the second 
 nurse, stepping nearer the boy. " Wait till you 
 hear the rights of this. Tell us now, Master 
 Eugene, what did Virgie do to you?" 
 
 The boy's eyes flashed; but he said quietly 
 enough, " Would you have me a talebearer? 
 What would my grandfather say? Ask the 
 child" and he pointed to the still sobbing 
 Virgie with as grand an air as if he were really 
 the man that he felt himself to be. 
 
 " He h-h-hurt my pealings," wailed Virgie 
 dismally. 
 
 " Your pealings ; it's feelings you mean, rose 
 of my heart," said her nurse, drawing the child 
 nearer to her. "Tell your good Bridget what 
 you did to the naughty boy." 
 
 The little girl, for some reason or other, was 
 shy about confessing the provocation that she 
 had given her playmate ; but her nurse, whose 
 curiosity had been aroused, was determined to 
 extract a confession from her, and adroitly 
 
6 THE SING OF THE PARK. 
 
 made use of the presence of the sergeant, who 
 had by this time arrived on the scene. 
 
 "See, lovie dove," she murmured in the 
 child's ear, " here's a great big monster of a 
 policeman, and he's looking at ye. Tell him 
 sharp." 
 
 The little girl shuddered, hid her face in 
 her nurse's breast, and whispered, " I 'suited 
 his remperor." 
 
 "And you served him right," said Bridget. 
 " The grasping old frog-eater. If I had a child 
 that worshipped his bones, it's shutting him 
 up in prison I'd be after doing till he learned 
 better sense," and she made a vindictive ges- 
 ture in Eugene's direction. 
 
 Her nurse's championship restored courage 
 to the breast of the little girl ; and slipping 
 from her knee, she jumped nimbly to the stone 
 seat beside them, and stretched out both her 
 tiny hands toward the noble head carved above 
 her. 
 
 "I 'suited him," she cried, tossing back her 
 curls from her flushed rosy cheeks. "I made 
 a face at him like this," and she screwed up 
 
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 1 
 
 her little visage in a detestable grimace, "and 
 I said, ' Eugene, I hate your old remperor ; ' 
 then he sweeped me over the ground." 
 
 A slight flush overspread the boy's pale face, 
 but he did not deny the accusation. 
 
 " Well, now, Virgie Manning," said the boy's 
 nurse in a severe manner, " that was real 
 mean in you. You're only a little girl, but 
 you ought to be ashamed of yourself to taunt 
 a little boy that sets such store by his empe- 
 ror. Look at here, officer," and she appealed 
 to the sergeant; "you've often seen us in these 
 Fens. This little boy," and she pointed to 
 Eugene, "is French, and he's got such a love 
 for foreign things that you can't get it out of 
 him. He justs worships the emperor. I don't 
 rightly know which one it was " 
 
 " His majesty, the great Napoleon, the 
 greatest emperor the world has ever seen," 
 murmured the boy, lifting his cap with an in- 
 describable mingling of reverence and grace. 
 
 " He hasn't any brothers or sisters or father 
 or mother," continued the nurse, "and his 
 grandfather's nearly always away ; and ever 
 
8 THE KING OF THE PARE:. 
 
 since he was a little fellow he tells me he's 
 been used to taking his meals with the picture 
 of this emperor propped against the sugar-bowl ; 
 and he declares that this statoo, or figger, or 
 whatever you call it, is like the photograph, 
 and he just worships it; and if he sees any 
 one leaning against this slab, or throwing 
 stones near it, it just makes him crazy; and 
 Virgie knows it, and she does it to tease him ; 
 and it ain't his fault if he struck her or what- 
 ever he did," and the girl threw a glance of 
 defiance at the other nurse. 
 
 The sergeant smiled amiably. Among his 
 multifarious duties he was quite well accus- 
 tomed to being called on to act as arbiter in 
 disputes between young nursery -maids or be- 
 tween their charges ; and being somewhat of a 
 philosopher, he was well adapted for the office. 
 
 The first thing he usually did was to give 
 the parties engaged in controversy time to get 
 cool while he went off on a side issue ; so he 
 said, in a deliberate fashion, "According to my 
 humble opinion, if I was called upon suddenly 
 for it, I should say that there isn't much re- 
 
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 9 
 
 semblance between John Boyle O'Reilly and 
 the great Bonaparte. In the first place, O'Reilly 
 never used a razor on his upper lip ; and I guess 
 the great Bonaparte did, judging by his pic- 
 tures. How do you get over that, son? "and 
 he directed his attention to the small boy in a 
 paternal way. 
 
 Eugene looked up adoringly at the silent 
 face above them, and spoke in a choking voice. 
 "I have talked over the affair with Monsieur 
 my grandfather. He agrees with me that there 
 is a slight resemblance. Perhaps after the 
 noble martyr went to St. Helena he was not 
 allowed the use of a razor. Those abominable 
 English " 
 
 His utterance failed him to such a degree 
 that the sergeant stared curiously at him. 
 Was it possible that this small boy was shaken 
 with emotion over the sufferings of the ambi- 
 tious and despotic arbiter of men's destinies 
 who was so long since dead? 
 
 Yes, it was the boy was in earnest. 
 
 "Do you believe in my emperor? " he asked, 
 turning seriously to the sergeant. 
 
10 THE KING OF THE PAEK. 
 
 "Well, I don't know," said the officer dryly. 
 " I owe my allegiance, as I suppose you'd call 
 it, to our President, to the Commonwealth of 
 Massachusetts, and to the great American 
 Union. However, I can say I believe in Na- 
 poleon to this extent I believe he lived." 
 
 "If you insult him," said the boy gravely, 
 " you are my enemy. I worship him. Long 
 live the emperor his memory will never die;" 
 and his lips moved softly while he again lifted 
 his little cap from his head. 
 
 The sergeant said nothing, but glanced at 
 the two nurses, who had forgotten their dis- 
 pute and were chatting amiably. 
 
 "Come, Master Eugene," said his nurse, "we 
 must be going." 
 
 The sergeant stepped back ; and the little 
 girl, who had been jealously watching him 
 while he talked to Eugene, took his place. 
 
 "I'm sorry I made naughty faces at your 
 remperor," she said poutingly. " Kiss me, Eu- 
 gene." 
 
 The boy did not kiss her, and he made no 
 apologies for his own conduct. "I pardon you," 
 
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 11 
 
 he said calmly ; and he dropped the pink fingers 
 that she extended to him. " Will you have 
 the kindness to promenade with your nurse ? I 
 wish to talk to this gentleman if I am per- 
 mitted ; " and he turned to the sergeant, who 
 was furiously gnawing his mustache to keep 
 from laughing at the boy's grown-up air. 
 
 The two nurses and the little girl strolled 
 on ahead, while the sergeant and the boy fol- 
 lowed them. 
 
 Eugene had recovered his composure. " What 
 admirable weather," he said, dreamily watching 
 the fleecy clouds floating across the blue sky. 
 "I am glad that my grandfather says I am 
 to stay out-of-doors all the time, and not go 
 to school." 
 
 "Doesn't your grandfather believe in 
 schools?" asked the sergeant. 
 
 "No, Mr. Officer, not in the kind you have 
 here," said the boy wearily. "This is what it 
 was like I had my breakfast, and went to a 
 hot room where boys and girls sat in rows. 
 I bent over books for an hour or two, then 
 there was a play-time for a few minutes only, 
 
12 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 after it more study until lunch-time. A few 
 hurried mouthfuls of food I got at home, then 
 I was running back to the school. By half- 
 past three I was too languid to play, and would 
 try to get my lessons for the next day. My 
 head would ache, and I would go to bed. I 
 tell you," and the boy confronted his com- 
 panion in sudden passion, "your schools are 
 infamous. They should be abolished. I wish 
 I were an emperor, or your Mr. President. I 
 would guillotine the school-teachers." 
 
 "You're an odd one," muttered the sergeant 
 to himself, as he cast a side glance at the slim, 
 elegant figure of the boy beside him. "With 
 your flashes of anger, and your quiet dull way 
 like an old man, you're like a queer combina- 
 tion lock. It isn't every one that can pick 
 you open." 
 
 Aloud he said, " This is a free country, my 
 boy ; yet I fear you'll get yourself into trouble 
 some day if you keep up your little amusement 
 of sweeping up the ground with girls, and if 
 you propose to kill off our teachers. Why, 
 they're the staff of the nation." 
 
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 13 
 
 "What I say may sound harsh for the in- 
 stant," said the boy mildly, "but reflect for a 
 little. Is it not better for a few to suffer than 
 for many? Your schools must kill thousands 
 of children. If a few teachers were sacrificed, 
 many boys would be saved for military duty. 
 Otherwise they will waste their strength in 
 this imbecile of a life, or die, as I say." 
 
 " How do you suppose the teachers would 
 feel to be killed off ? " asked the sergeant, his 
 broad shoulders shaking with laughter. 
 
 Eugene made a compassio'nate gesture. "It 
 would not be pleasant for them. Perhaps one 
 could alter the punishment to banishment for 
 life." 
 
 " Why not allow them to stay at home, if 
 they promise to stop teaching, or to use shorter 
 hours?" 
 
 "Because a teacher will always teach, even 
 as women and priests will always intrigue," 
 said Eugene firmly. u My grandfather says so." 
 
 The sergeant turned his puzzled face up to 
 the poplars overhead. " I've seen a good many 
 boys and girls in my time, young Frenchman," 
 
14 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 he observed slowly, "but I'm blest if I ever 
 saw one with such twisted ideas as you've got. 
 Why, you ought to be made over again. Is it 
 your grandfather who has brought you up?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Officer." 
 
 " Who is he, anyway ? " 
 
 "He is called Monsieur le Comte Eugene 
 Claude Louis Hernando de Vargas, formerly 
 seigneur of the chateau of Chatillon-sur-Loir 
 in the department of Loir-et-Cher in France ; 
 and he is descended from the Spaniard Her- 
 nando de Vargas, who was ennobled and made 
 a marshal of France by the great Napoleon." 
 
 " Oh ! " said the sergeant^ " I see why you're 
 so stuffy ; and where does your grandfather 
 live in this democratic city of Boston?" 
 
 "Yonder," said the boy, with a wave of his 
 hand toward the south. " We have but small 
 quarters. My grandfather is embarrassed in his 
 affairs. I may tell you as an official, though I 
 would never tell the schoolboys, that he was 
 sentenced to banishment for conspiring against 
 the abominable so-called republic of France." 
 
 " Abominable and republic," repeated the 
 
LONG LIVE THE EMPEEOE. 15 
 
 sergeant remonstratingly ; " come, boy, that's 
 not grateful. Do you forget that a republi- 
 can flag is waving over you at this present 
 moment?" 
 
 " For you it is well," said the boy earnestly. 
 "You are true to the past. You defied Eng- 
 land, who would have made slaves of you. 
 Also, you have had no emperor." 
 
 " Did you ever hear of George Washington 
 and Abraham Lincoln?" asked the sergeant. 
 
 " The names of those gentlemen are quite 
 unknown to me," said Eugene politely. 
 
 " You don't mean to say that you have never 
 heard of that wonderful hatchet?" 
 
 "Whose hatchet, Mr. Officer?" 
 
 "George Washington's." 
 
 "A hatchet is a kind of sword, is it not?" 
 
 " Oh, no, no, it is a chopper ; we cut up 
 wood arid meat and anything with it. You've 
 heard that story surely." 
 
 "Possibly, sir," said Eugene indifferently. 
 "I do not remember that I have." 
 
 "Well, I'm dumb," said the sergeant. "I 
 didn't think there was a child in the length 
 
16 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 and breadth of America that hadn't heard 
 about that hatchet. Can you tell a lie, then, 
 as you don't know about George Washing- 
 ton?" 
 
 " In general," said Eugene, in his grave, old- 
 fashioned way, "I do not tell lies. At times, 
 if I consider one better than the truth, I tell 
 it without scruple." 
 
 "You don't think it's wrong to lie? " 
 
 "No, sir; truth is often tiresome; there is 
 tedium in it, my grandfather says. The great 
 emperor lied." 
 
 "I'll bet anything on that," said the ser- 
 geant grimly, "and he didn't get any good by 
 it either, nor will you, my boy ; but of that 
 more anon, as Shakespeare says. I'll have to 
 talk to you some time about those two gentle- 
 men, as you call them, that you don't know 
 about. Would you like me to do so ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; I should be charmed." 
 
 " I'll back up Washington and Lincoln 
 against all the emperors that ever lived," said 
 the sergeant. "There, now, don't get huffy." 
 
 "I am not vexed," said Eugene quietly. " I 
 
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 17 
 
 am only about to ask you if you can tell me 
 the name of the first king of France." 
 
 The sergeant knitted his brows. " Louis, 
 wasn't it?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Officer, it was Clovis. Can you 
 tell me why Saint Louis gained his name ? " 
 
 " No," said the sergeant gruffly ; " I'm not up 
 in French history." 
 
 " Have you ever heard of the fight at the cir- 
 cus between Pepin the Little and the beasts? " 
 asked Eugene softly and mischievously. 
 
 The sergeant laughed good-naturedly. 
 " You've caught me, small boy. I don't know 
 any more of French history than you do of 
 American. We'll cry quits. What street did 
 you say you lived on ? " 
 
 "Lovejoy Street, number 29, suite 4 you 
 will not proceed against my grandfather ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ; I just want to know where you 
 live. I thought by the way you talk your 
 grandfather must have a mansion on Common- 
 wealth Avenue, at least." 
 
 "No, he has not; but the little girl who in- 
 sulted my emperor lives there." 
 
18 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Do you ever go to her house ? " 
 
 " No," said the boy carelessly. " Our nurses 
 are friends, and we promenade together. I do 
 not care for girls. I like men. May I count 
 you as one of my friends, sir?" and stopping 
 himself quickly by sticking the heels of hib 
 shoes in the ground, he made the sergeant a 
 low bow. 
 
 "I'm sure I'll be delighted," said the ser- 
 geant, grinning at him. 
 
 "And may I request the honor of your 
 name," pursued the boy. "My grandfather 
 will ask me " 
 
 " Stephen Hardy, at your service, sir plain 
 Stephen Hardy, no marshals nor lords, not even 
 a captain in my string only plain Yankee 
 sailors for grandfathers." 
 
 u Ah, you belong to the bourgeoisie" said 
 Eugene, " or possibly the peuple. I should be 
 more pleased if you had the particule before 
 your name. De Hardy would be better. How- 
 ever, in this country one must let that pass. 
 You are, nevertheless, not a peasant. One 
 can see that by your bearing." 
 
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 19 
 
 "What's your grandfather's business?" asked 
 the sergeant bluntly. 
 
 The boy blushed a furious crimson. " In 
 this country he has no friends, no influence, 
 his property was taken away at present he 
 assists a countryman in " 
 
 "In teaching French?" asked the sergeant 
 kindly. 
 
 " No ; we speak but few words of French," 
 said the boy, and he looked as if another one 
 of his fits of passion were about to come upon 
 him. " We use your language in order that 
 we may not be laughed at, as the boys laugh 
 at me when I speak French." 
 
 " How long have you been in this country ? " 
 asked the sergeant. 
 
 "Six months, Mr. Officer." 
 
 " Then you've got a pretty remarkable hold 
 of English for that time." 
 
 "But I had an English nurse when I was 
 a child, and an English tutor later on. It 
 was the custom among the noblesse" 
 
 "And what does your grandfather do?" 
 asked the sergeant, coming back to his original 
 question with true Yankee pertinacity. 
 
20 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Pardon me, sir I will tell you another 
 day," said the boy irritably. " The words 
 stick in my throat. I have the honor to wish 
 you good-morning ; " and with another one of 
 his sweeping bows, he swiftly and gracefully 
 left the sergeant, and hurried after the two 
 nurses and the little girl, who were making 
 their way toward the wide expanse of meadows 
 and shrub-planted slopes at the farther end of 
 the Fens. 
 
 The sergeant stared after Eugene, and talked 
 aloud to himself, as he had a habit of doing. 
 "I don't rightly make out that lad yet. We 
 haven't got any like him in this country. 
 Haughty isn't the word for him, and selfish 
 doesn't come anywhere near his looking out 
 for number one ; yet there's something divert- 
 ing about the little shaver, in spite of it all. 
 He's old-fashioned, like a child that's been 
 brought up with elderly people. I'll look out 
 for him. He'll be coming here again," and 
 the sergeant smiled to himself as he went on 
 his rounds through the park. 
 
KING BOOZY. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 KING BOOZY. 
 
 THE next morning, while Sergeant Hardy 
 was standing near the main entrance to the 
 Fens on Commonwealth Avenue, he was glad 
 to see in the distance the figures of the two 
 nurses and their two charges. 
 
 Eugene, holding himself as straight as a dart, 
 was a little in advance of the others; while 
 Virgie frisked around him, first on one side 
 and then on the other, and occasionally paused 
 to throw back a few words to the nurses, whose 
 heads were nodding in busy conversation. 
 
 The sergeant was glad to see that Eugene 
 looked happier than he had done the day be- 
 fore. Indeed, he was comparatively cheerful 
 this morning; and when he got near the ser- 
 geant, his cap came off his head in a twinkling, 
 and he said gayly, " Good-morning, sir." 
 
 " Bong zhoor, musso," said the sergeant, in 
 
22 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 rather indifferent French. " You look as 
 pleased as if you'd got a freedom suit." 
 
 Eugene's curiosity was piqued. "Will you 
 explain, sir?" he said prettily. "You mention 
 a phrase that I have never met before." 
 
 " Well," said the sergeant, planting himself 
 in the middle of the pavement, while the nurses 
 and the children stood round him in respectful 
 attention, " long ago, when I was a young man, 
 I lived in the country. Every lad, when he 
 was twenty-one, used to get a suit of new 
 clothes, a dress-suit and a tall hat, which he 
 called a freedom suit. This suit was kept for 
 special occasions, like going to church, and fu- 
 nerals, and weddings, and making calls on our 
 lady friends. I can just see the young fellows 
 riding in from the farms on horseback, proud 
 as Punch, with their coat-tails tucked in their 
 pockets to keep them clean." 
 
 " How droll ! " said Eugene. 
 
 " How droll ! " little Virgie repeated after 
 him. 
 
 " I will walk with you, sir," said the boy, 
 when the sergeant turned in the direction of 
 
KING BOOZY. 23 
 
 the park. "And I will walk wif you," lisped 
 Virgie to Eugene, attempting to take his hand. 
 
 " Not so," he said decidedly ; and he held 
 both hands before him. "It might occur to 
 you to seize these flowers which I am carry- 
 ing, especially as they are for the emperor." 
 
 The sergeant's eyes wandered curiously 
 from the tiny bunch of violets to the plain, 
 almost threadbare, suit of clothes that the boy 
 wore. Something told him fchat Eugene's 
 scanty savings were heroically devoted to per- 
 petuating the memory of his beloved emperor. 
 
 "Are you going to lay those before John 
 Boyle O'Reilly," he asked. 
 
 Eugene bowed gravely. 
 
 " Speaking of monuments, there is one I ad- 
 mire," said the sergeant, jerking a thumb over 
 his shoulder ; " and I often think it shows 
 that a woman knows better how to dress a 
 man than a man does." 
 
 " You have reason," said Eugene courteously ; 
 though he did not understand in the least what 
 the sergeant meant, and the sergeant knew he 
 did not. 
 
24 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 "Look at it," said the man to his young 
 companion ; and then they both turned around. 
 
 Against the blue sky rose alert and graceful 
 the bronze figure of Leif Ericsson, the Norse 
 discoverer of America. One hand he held to 
 his forehead. He was peering forward, as if 
 his eager eyes were anxious to discover the 
 wonders of the new world. 
 
 "Yes," said the sergeant, "it is a woman 
 that made that, and to my mind she made a 
 man. I get tired of these heroes in petticoats, 
 sitting round on monuments. I never saw a 
 man in petticoats in my life, except a Chris- 
 tian brother; yet when any one of our famous 
 men is going to be put up in stone for us to 
 admire, the sculptor swaddles him round like 
 a baby in long clothes ; though Boston isn't 
 as bad in this respect as some of our cities." 
 
 "It is a thousand pities," said Eugene ab- 
 sently. 
 
 " Why don't you leave those flowers with 
 Leif ? " asked the sergeant jokingly. 
 
 Eugene immediately awaked out of his rev- 
 ery. "No, no," he said; and he hurried on 
 
LET ME PUT THEM UP FOB You," SAID THE SERGEANT. 
 
KING BOOZY. 25 
 
 with a disturbed face, and scarcely spoke until 
 they reached the bronze monument. 
 
 " Let me put them up for you," said the 
 sergeant, when Eugene stood on tiptoe, and 
 tried to toss his violets near O'Reilly's face. 
 
 The boy gave them up, and anxiously watched 
 him as lie deposited them on the stone ledge on 
 which the bust rested. 
 
 " I wish O'Reilly could see you," said the 
 sergeant. "Perhaps he does. He was a pa- 
 triot, and I guess he would approve of your 
 devotion to your country." 
 
 Eugene stood gazing up in rapt attention un- 
 til Virgie and the two nurses arrived; then he 
 sighed, and brought his eyes to the earth again. 
 
 "I fought you'd runned away and hid your- 
 sef," said little Virgie, shaking her curls and 
 dancing up to Eugene. "Come play wif me; 
 I'm all lonesome." 
 
 Eugene was about yielding passively to her 
 request, when he caught sight of a little head 
 peering at him from the underbrush near by. 
 
 " Ah, Jacobin ! " he said calmly, as he stooped 
 and seized a stone, "away with thee." 
 
26 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 The stone was not thrown ; for the sergeant 
 stepped forward, and seized him by the shoul- 
 der. " What do you see, boy ? " he asked. 
 
 "A cat," replied Eugene. 
 
 The sergeant retained his hold of Eugene, 
 and sat him down on the stone seat. "Boy," 
 he said firmly, " do you stone cats? " 
 
 "Always," returned Eugene. "The rep- 
 tiles ! " 
 
 "Why do you do it?" 
 
 " Possibly," said the lad with slight sarcasm, 
 " you would also stone them if you lived where 
 we do. At night my grandfather retires worn 
 out by his exertions during the day. He sleeps ; 
 then he springs from his bed, awakened by a 
 cry for help from a drowning child. It is a 
 cat ! He becomes angry ; he lifts the window, 
 and throws a morsel of coal at the supposed 
 drowning one. He again retires. He again 
 sleeps. This time a woman shrieks from a 
 burning house. He again hurls himself from 
 the bed. Once more it is but a cat. He 
 throws two morsels of coal, and ensconces him- 
 self between the blankets. In succession he is 
 
KING BOOZY. 27 
 
 aroused by murderers, by burglars, by a chorus 
 of men's voices, by a famous prima donna; 
 and all is produced by those wretches of cats. 
 He says that he has travelled in many lands, 
 and that he has heard the voices of many cats ; 
 but for maliciousness and range of tones these 
 Boston cats eclipse all others." 
 
 44 1 wonder what your grandfather takes for 
 supper," said the sergeant sternly. " A man 
 that runs down cats and women and priests 
 ain't fit to live, in my estimation." 
 
 Eugene promptly raised a little cane that he 
 carried under his arm, and struck the sergeant 
 a smart blow across his legs. 
 
 The sergeant in his amazement released his 
 hold of Eugene's shoulder ; and his nurse, step- 
 ping forward with a dismayed face, interposed 
 herself between the angry lad and his power- 
 ful opponent, and said, " Run, Master Eugene, 
 run." 
 
 " I will not run," said the boy haughtily. 
 "You, sir," he went on, addressing the sergeant, 
 " shall give me satisfaction for this some day. 
 I challenge you to fight a duel with me." 
 
28 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 All the annoyance died out of the sergeant's 
 face. " You young swaggerer," he said with 
 a short laugh, " you've got a hard row to 
 hoe in this life. I'm sorry for you ; but I 
 guess I'd no business to run down your grand- 
 father. Come over here now ; I want to show 
 you something. You come too," he added, 
 addressing the nurses and little Virgie, who 
 had timidly retreated when Eugene began to 
 get angry. 
 
 Eugene somewhat sulkily accepted his apol- 
 ogy, and they all followed him ; while the ser- 
 geant talked to them over his shoulder, and 
 led the way to a path near the Boylston-street 
 bridge. 
 
 " Speaking of cats," he said, " I want to in- 
 troduce you to one who is a prince, or rather 
 a king, among them, and perhaps you won't 
 have quite such a low opinion of the gentry. 
 Stoop your heads now ; the shrubbery is pretty 
 dense here." 
 
 The two nurses and the children gazed ad- 
 miringly before them. They were facing a 
 most snug retreat. 
 
KING BOOZY. 29 
 
 a And sure, a fox might be happy there, if it 
 wasn't for the highway near by," said Bridget 
 enthusiastically, " And what's the baste 'that 
 lives in this little wild wood home, officer ? " 
 
 The sergeant was holding back some branches 
 so that they might see more plainly a tiny 
 wooden kennel heaped high with dead leaves. 
 
 "It's a king that lives here," he said; and 
 he lifted toward his auditors his face that was 
 red from stooping over the kennel. 
 
 " You didn't know, French boy," and he ad- 
 dressed Eugene, "that there was a sovereign 
 over all this park land that rules as absolutely 
 as your emperor did.''' 
 
 " Is it possible that you speak of a cat?" 
 said the boy contemptuously. 
 
 "Of nothing more nor less, of King Boozy, 
 monarch of this park, because he has got char- 
 acter enough to rule over the other twenty 
 cats that live here." 
 
 Little Virgie was charmed. Before Eugene 
 could reply, she dropped on her hands and 
 knees, and crawled in beside the sergeant. 
 " Oh, the little sweet housie ! " she cried, pat- 
 
30 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 ting the tiny dwelling with both hands. 
 " Who made it, mister ? does the pussy sleep 
 in it?" 
 
 " Yes, little one," said the sergeant. "A 
 gentleman connected with one of the Boston 
 theatres had this kennel made for the king 
 of the park, who always sleeps in it. His 
 chum occupies that barrel over there." 
 
 "And is it another cat that is his chum?" 
 asked Bridget. 
 
 " Yes," replied the sergeant. " There is 
 only one cat in the park that the king will 
 have to live with him ; and that is his chum, 
 Squirrel, and he has to mind his p's and q*s, I 
 tell you, or Boozy would put him out. What 
 do you think of this for a cat's home, young 
 sir ? " and he addressed Eugene. 
 
 The boy backed out from the underbrush, 
 slightly curling his lip as he did so. " I do 
 not admire the name of the animal," he said 
 coldly ; " and why take all that trouble for a 
 cat?" 
 
 The sergeant mopped his perspiring face 
 with his handkerchief. " I will talk to you 
 
KING BOOZY. 31 
 
 a little about the king," he said, "and then 
 perhaps you will see." 
 
 The path upon which they had entered 
 ran along by the low stone parapet of the 
 Boylston-street bridge. The sergeant took 
 his station against the parapet, while his lis- 
 teners stood grouped about him in the mild 
 sunshine. 
 
 " I believe," said the sergeant, pointing up 
 to the bright blue sky above them, " in an 
 almighty Ruler of the universe that creates 
 all things, men and women and horses and 
 dogs and cats." 
 
 "And so do I," murmured Bridget, crossing 
 herself. " Praise be to his holy name." 
 
 " And I believe," continued the sergeant, 
 "that this almighty Ruler does not despise 
 anything that he has made not even a cat." 
 
 Eugene smiled a little ironically, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 " Four years ago," went on the sergeant, 
 " I was on duty in this park early one fine 
 summer morning. Down there near Common- 
 wealth Avenue I saw a black-and-white cat 
 
32 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 coming leisurely toward me. Every few steps 
 he took he would look over his shoulder in 
 the direction of the houses, then he would 
 walk toward the park again. I have always 
 been fond of cats ; so I said ' Good-morning ' 
 to him as polite as you please. ' Meow,' 
 he said; and he looked pitifully up at me. 
 'What's the matter?' I asked. 4 Are you go- 
 ing to the park to catch a mouse for your- 
 self this fine morning?' ' Meow, meow,' he 
 said ; and he meant, 4 No, no,' just as plain 
 as a creature could say it. Then he turned, 
 and walked back in the direction he had 
 come, looking over his shoulder, and begging 
 me to follow as plain as possible. I thought 
 I would go, for I knew something was wrong; 
 and do you know that cat took me as straight 
 as a child would have done down to a fine 
 shut-up house. I suspected what was the 
 matter; however, I rang the bell of the next 
 house, and inquired." 
 
 " They had gone away and left the cat, 
 hadn't they?" interjected Eugene's nurse. 
 
 " Yes," said the sergeant grimly. " That's 
 
KING BOOZY. 33 
 
 the figure of it. Mrs. Grandlady, whose name 
 you might know if I mentioned it, had taken 
 herself and her dear children and her dear 
 horses to the country ; but the dear cat was 
 left to shift for himself. I was sorry for the 
 creature. He went up on the front steps. 
 He went up on the back ones. He listened, 
 he pricked up his ears. He stared at me as 
 if to say, 4 Do you really think they have left 
 me ? ' And when I left him he cried. For 
 three weeks that cat hung about the house 
 listening for some one to come back. I got 
 the lady's address, and wrote to her, but she 
 didn't answer ; then I reasoned with the cat, 
 and said, 'You had better come up to the 
 park.' Finally he came. I never saw such 
 a human-like creature. He'd never been ill- 
 used, and he could not seem to understand 
 that any one would hurt him. He has got 
 over that now all right. Dogs chase him, 
 and boys stone him, and he's a different cat. 
 He is shy of strangers, and I don't think 
 he would go back to his old mistress if she 
 came for him." 
 
34 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Isn't he a good pussy now ? " asked Vir- 
 gie. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said the sergeant, smiling ; " he 
 is good, but he is a little sharper than he 
 used to be. He has got to know the world ; 
 and he believes that might is right, and he 
 lords it over the other cats in the park. He 
 thinks every one is down on him but me. 
 He has lost faith in human nature you will 
 understand that when you get to be a big 
 girl." 
 
 "I would like to see that pussy," said Vir- 
 gie wistfully. 
 
 " I'll call him up," said the sergeant, " if 
 your nurses will stand back. He hates wo- 
 men." 
 
 " Och, the old rascal ! " said Bridget wrath- 
 fully. 
 
 " You see, it's this way," and the sergeant 
 spoke in an apologetic tone of voice. " Prob- 
 ably he was the kitchen cat and the cook's 
 pet, because he isn't a fancy breed like those 
 parlor cats. When the cook 'cast him off he 
 lost his liking for women." 
 
KING BOOZY. 35 
 
 "I don't want to see the old turncoat," 
 said Bridget disdainfully. " Come on, Virtue 
 Ann ; " and she twitched herself to a little dis- 
 tance, leaving the two children with the ser- 
 geant. 
 
 "You want to see the king, don't you?" 
 the sergeant asked Eugene pointedly. 
 
 The boy had been listening in a half-hearted 
 way ; but at this question he roused himself 
 and said, u Certainly, sir." 
 
 The sergeant gave a long, low whistle ; and 
 presently there was a rustling heard behind 
 them, and a prosperous-looking white cat spotted 
 with black came, yawning and stretching him- 
 self, through the underbrush. 
 
 "Good-morning, Boozy," said the sergeant, 
 as the animal, with the appearance of the great- 
 est delight, sprang on the parapet of the bridge, 
 and purringly stretched himself out toward his 
 friend. 
 
 " He is very jealous, is Boozy," said the ser- 
 geant kindly, rubbing the cat's head. "Don't 
 come any nearer, little miss. He don't like 
 to see strangers with me, and he is shy of 
 
36 THE KING OF THE PAEK. 
 
 everything now. He wouldn't come near me 
 for a while after the park uniform was changed 
 from gray to blue." 
 
 "He caresses you because you feed him," 
 said Eugene, with a side glance at the animal, 
 who had stretched himself on his back, and 
 was playfully biting and patting the sergeant's 
 hand. 
 
 "You don't enter into the animal's feelings 
 at all," said the sergeant benevolently. " You 
 don't think. that there is a little heart inside 
 that furry body that it grew sick and sad 
 when it was shut out from its home." 
 
 "I do not comprehend in the least," said 
 Eugene in his most grown-up fashion. " A cat 
 cannot suffer." 
 
 "Perhaps some day you will understand," 
 said the sergeant kindly. " In the meantime 
 let me tell you something that will prove to 
 you that the cat does like me. Some months 
 ago I was transferred to the Public Garden ; 
 and this cat, that would not come out of these 
 bushes for a stranger, not if he was to whistle 
 till doomsday, braved the racket of the streets, 
 
KING BOOZY. 37 
 
 and, what was worse to him, the people, and 
 went down there to find me." 
 
 "The sweet little pussy!" squealed Virgie. 
 " Mister Policeman, let me stroke him." 
 
 " Yes ; but come gently," said the sergeant. 
 
 Virgie, however, made a delighted run, that 
 sent the cat flying into the underbrush. 
 
 The sergeant looked amused and went on. 
 " I didn't know what to make of it when I 
 looked down, and saw the king purring with 
 joy, and rubbing himself against my legs. I 
 said, 'Boozy, go back to the Fens; this is no 
 place for a cat, and maybe I'll be sent there 
 by and by.' " 
 
 " Did he return ? " asked Eugene. 
 
 44 Yes ; he came straight back here ; and I 
 begged for an exchange, and here I found him 
 on the lookout for me when I was sent back. 
 Don't fret, little miss ; you can see the king an- 
 other day. I will try to call up his chum for 
 you," and he whistled again. Boozy's chum, 
 however, did not come. 
 
 " He is probably hunting," said the sergeant. 
 "He and Boozy between them keep this end 
 
38 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 of the park clean, and do good service to the 
 city of Boston. They know all the holes of 
 the mice and moles that would destroy the 
 plants, and many a morning bright and early 
 have I seen those two cats watching beside 
 them. They catch sparrows too ; smart isn't 
 the word for them; and the other day Boozy 
 tackled an eel." 
 
 " An eel," said Eugene, who was beginning 
 to get interested ; " one of those creatures par- 
 allel to a snake that lives in the water? " 
 
 " The same," said the sergeant, chuckling. 
 " The king got mad with the eel because he 
 wouldn't submit quietly to being killed, but 
 wound himself tightly round his body. Boozy 
 was surprised that the eel would dare to meddle 
 with him, the king of the park ; and he bit the 
 life out of him in two minutes." 
 
 "I have read," said Eugene, "that cats dis- 
 like water." 
 
 "They mostly do," said the sergeant. "Wo 
 have an old thing, though, down below that 
 comes in every morning as wet as a seal from 
 fishing. But she doesn't dare to come up 
 
KING BOOZY. 39 
 
 here. Boozy would box her ears, and send 
 her home. This part of the park belongs to 
 him and his chum. He makes the other twenty 
 cats keep to their own end of it." 
 
 " He is a naughty pussy to box the ears of 
 the other pussies," said Virgie warmly. 
 
 " You must remember, little miss, that human 
 beings have been a bit rough on Boozy," said 
 the sergeant with a mischievous twinkle in his 
 eye, " and he has learned some bad habits from 
 them." 
 
 " Does the cat live here in winter ? " asked 
 Eugene. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! he doesn't mind the change of 
 seasons. We shovel about twenty feet of path 
 for him, and clear the snow from the parapet 
 so he can lie in the sun. Then I'm a little 
 particular about his food you haven't seen 
 his dining-room;" and he pointed to a shel- 
 tered nook where sheets of brown paper over- 
 spread the ground. " Come around any day 
 at 1.30, and you'll see King Boozy at dinner." 
 
 " We'll come running and jumping to see 
 the sweet pussy," said Virgie. " I'll go ask 
 
40 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 Bridget not to forget me about it ; " and she 
 ran away in the direction of the nurses. 
 
 " Where are these other cats that you speak 
 of ? " asked Eugene with affected indifference. 
 
 " Oh ! you're beginning to get interested, are 
 you," said the sergeant. "I'll show them to 
 you some other day. I must go now, and find 
 out what those felk>ws are doing in that boat 
 on the pond. Good-by, Boozy;" and waving 
 his hand to the cat, that he knew was staring 
 at him from some secluded nook, he was about 
 to hurry away from the lad, when he remem- 
 bered something, and turned on his heel. "Be- 
 fore I go," he said, " let me tell you, young 
 boy, that I know what your grandfather does." 
 
 " Did you presume to force inquiries," said 
 the lad quickly, " when I assured you that I 
 should tell you myself ? " 
 
 " No ; I did not. I happened to remember 
 that I had seen some one answering to the 
 description of what I'd suppose your grand- 
 father to be like in a French jeweller's shop 
 on Washington Street. He mends watches, 
 doesn't he ? " 
 
KING BOOZY. 41 
 
 " Yes," scarcely breathed the boy, with an 
 agonized blush. 
 
 " I wouldn't feel bad about it, if I were you," 
 said the sergeant compassionately. " That's a 
 decent way of getting a living." 
 
 -For you, yes," said the boy mournfully; 
 "for a de Vargas, no;" and dropping his young 
 head on his breast, he walked away. 
 
42 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 
 
 THE sergeant had not seen Eugene for a 
 week; but although he had not seen him, lie 
 could not get him out of his mind. 
 
 As he sauntered about the park day after 
 day, his vigilant eyes going hither and thither 
 over roads and foot-paths to see that no tres- 
 passers loitered in them and defaced the grow- 
 ing trees, or launched boats without permission 
 on the waterways, Eugene's pale, thoughtful, 
 and rather unhappy face floated constantly be- 
 fore him. 
 
 " It's queer, the interest I take in him," he 
 said to himself on the last day of the week. 
 " It must be because he spoke up so frank-like, 
 and asked me to be his friend. He's of a 
 different cut from any other lad I ever saw. 
 Guess I'll look him up after I get off to-day. 
 I'd like to inquire about him, anyway ; and 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 43 
 
 there's no one to ask here, for the little miss 
 
 9 
 
 and her nurse have given up coming too. I 
 guess they've been promenading on the sunny 
 side of Commonwealth Avenue on account of 
 the wind in the Fens." 
 
 Every evening at six the sergeant went off 
 duty. On that evening, instead of going home, 
 he bent his footsteps toward No. 29 Lovejoy 
 Street. 
 
 While turning a corner swiftly he ran into 
 a girl who was hurrying along with her head 
 bent forward. 
 
 It was Virtue Ann, Eugene's nurse ; and on 
 seeing the sergeant, she threw up her head 
 with a quick catching of her breath. 
 
 " Did I frighten you ? " asked the sergeant. 
 
 " Oh, no, sir! " said Virtue Ann miserably. 
 
 " Then, what's the matter with you ? " he 
 asked in a puzzled voice. 
 
 " It's not you," said Virtue Ann, bringing 
 her handkerchief out of her pocket, and roll 
 ing it into a little ball. 
 - "What is it then?" 
 
 " It's the little boy his grandfather's dead, 
 you know." 
 
44 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Not the little French boy's grandfather ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " I'm sorry for this," said the sergeant so- 
 berly. " That's why you haven't come to the 
 Fens." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "And what's the boy going to do?" 
 
 " Oh, oh ! that's what bothers me ; " and Virtue 
 Ann's tears began to shower down like rain. 
 " It's an awful hard case. There he sits day 
 after day in those little stuffy rooms, waiting 
 for a letter from France ; and if what he wants 
 doesn't come something just too dreadful for 
 anything will happen." 
 
 " Too dreadful ! " repeated the sergeant. 
 "Come now, young woman, take it easy, and 
 just stop crying, will you? There's lots of 
 charitable people in this city, and orphans' 
 homes and so on. He'll be all right." 
 
 "Do you suppose he'd go into an orphans' 
 home ? " said Virtue Ann, drying her eyes 
 and speaking half indignantly. " You don't 
 know him, sir. He's proud and shy, like a lit- 
 tle old man. His grandfather made him just 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 45 
 
 like himself. Oh. ! he's got a lot to answer for. 
 He was a queer old man, and went peering 
 about with those little eyes of his, just as if 
 he was looking out for wickedness in every- 
 thing." 
 
 "Has the boy relatives in France?" asked 
 the sergeant. 
 
 " Yes ; one rich grand-uncle on his mother's 
 side. It was to him Master Eugene wrote; 
 and how do you think he began his letter, sir? 
 He had no one else by him ; so he read it to me, 
 and put it into English so I could understand. 
 It began this way, ' Robber, my grandfather 
 is now dead; and I call upon you to restore 
 to me, his rightful heir, the chatto ' is that 
 the right word, sir ? " 
 
 " I guess so," said the sergeant. 
 
 " Well, anyway," continued Virtue Ann, 
 " Master Eugene laid down the law to him. 
 He wants him to give up this big house, and 
 the servants and some money, and if he does 
 not that little innocent creature will oh, dear, 
 dear ! " and she fell to catching her breath 
 again, and could not speak. 
 
46 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 "What will he do?" asked the sergeant 
 impatiently. 
 
 " It's too miserable I can't say it," replied 
 Virtue Ann. " He'll make way with himself, 
 the little dear." 
 
 "Are you crazy?" asked the sergeant. 
 
 "No, sir no, sir. You don't know that boy. 
 If you'd lived with him as I have you'd under- 
 stand him. He's just as set in his way as a 
 man. Why, he's even told me how he'll kill 
 himself ; " and she whispered a few words in 
 the sergeant's ear that made him start back 
 and stare at her. 
 
 "Do go see him," said Virtue Ann. "He 
 took a kind of a fancy to you ; I guess it must 
 have been your uniform." 
 
 " I guess so," said the sergeant. " Where 
 are you going ? " 
 
 " To the corner grocery for some bread and 
 olives." 
 
 " Well, you go on then, and I'll call to see 
 the child." 
 
 "I'll hurry back," said Virtue Ann; and 
 she sped on her way. 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 47 
 
 The sergeant went quickly down the street 
 until he found No. 29. On arriving there, he 
 stepped inside the lobby ; and after ringing the 
 bell marked 4, he put his ear to the tube be- 
 side it. 
 
 Presently he heard in Eugene's clear voice, 
 "Who is there?" 
 
 "Sergeant Hardy," replied the man. 
 
 " Will you have the goodness to walk up ? " 
 said Eugene ; and as he spoke he pressed a 
 spring that made the entrance door fly open, 
 and enabled the sergeant to enter, and mount 
 the long flight of stairs. 
 
 At the top of the house he found himself in 
 a narrow, uncarpeted hall, where a door stood 
 wide open with Eugene beside it. 
 
 " How do you do ? " said the boy gravely, 
 extending his hand. 
 
 " I'm well," said the sergeant ; " and I'm 
 sorry to hear of your trouble." 
 
 Eugene bowed in his unchildish fashion, 
 and led the way to a small, barely furnished 
 parlor. 
 
 The sergeant put his helmet on the table, 
 
48 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 and sat down by a window, from which an 
 extended view of distant hills could be had 
 over the tops of far and near houses ; while 
 Eugene seated himself opposite, and stretching 
 out his slender arms and legs, tried hard to fill 
 the chair that had been a favorite one with his 
 dead grandfather. 
 
 His endeavor to look grave and manly was 
 not successful. He only impressed the sergeant 
 as being curiously pitiful and pathetic ; and the 
 words, " Poor little chap," burst almost invol- 
 untarily from his lips. 
 
 Eugene grew rather white ; but he managed 
 to bow again, and to say composedly, " Thank 
 you, Mr. Officer." 
 
 " When did your grandfather die ? " asked 
 the seVgeant. 
 
 " Five days ago." 
 
 "And was it sudden?" 
 
 " Extremely so. He came home from the 
 town much fatigued. He lay down on his 
 bed, rose up once, and called in a loud voice, 
 ' Eugene ! ' I ran to him, but the breath had 
 left him." 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 49 
 
 "You have written to your relatives?" said 
 the sergeant. 
 
 " Yes," replied Eugene. " I sent a letter to 
 my grand-uncle, who bought from the govern- 
 ment the confiscated estate of my grandfather. 
 I demanded money from him to enable me to 
 live. If he sends it,- all will be well. If 
 not"- 
 
 " Well, if not," said the sergeant, " there 
 are plenty of people here who will look after 
 you." 
 
 Eugene's pale face flushed. " Could I be- 
 come a pauper? No, Mr. Officer. If I do not 
 receive some of the rents from my grandfather's 
 estate, I shall dispose of myself otherwise." 
 
 " How long since you've been out doors ? " 
 asked the sergeant abruptly. 
 
 " Not since my grandfather died," said 
 Eugene sadly. "I have not cared for it." 
 
 " Will you go home with me now and have 
 supper ? " asked the sergeant. " I would be 
 proud and happy to show you my wife." 
 
 Before Eugene could speak, a clapping of 
 hands was heard. Virtue Ann had come 
 
50 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 quietly in, and had heard the sergeant's pro- 
 posal. "Yes, Master Eugene, do go," she said 
 joyfully. 
 
 Eugene hesitated. "Do, please," said Vir- 
 tue Ann coaxingly ; " it will do you good." 
 
 "Very well, sir, I accept with alacrity your 
 invitation," said Eugene, slipping from his 
 chair, and standing before the sergeant. " It 
 is necessary that I put on my velvet suit," he 
 went on, with a slight sparkle in his eyes, and 
 addressing Virtue Ann as he passed her. 
 
 "Yes, yes," she replied; "I will come and 
 get it down for you." 
 
 In a few minutes she came hurrying back 
 to the sergeant. "I'm right glad you asked 
 him, sir. I never was in such a tight box in 
 my life as to know what to do about this child. 
 You see, I'm a stranger here, as you might say, 
 for I've only been four months in the city; 
 and his grandfather didn't seem to have any 
 friends, and I don't know any one to go to, and 
 his money is most gone, and he's such a queer 
 little thing, and flies into a rage if I cross him ; 
 and I don't know what to do, and I wish you'd 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 51 
 
 advise him. I asked Bridget to talk to Mrs. 
 Manning about him, that's the little girl's 
 mother ; but she says the lady would clap him 
 into a school or some place with a lot of chil- 
 dren, where he'd be most crazy. I'll go see 
 Bridget again to-night. I wish I'd money to 
 keep the little dear with me, if he'd stay. He's 
 so sweet and elegant in his ways ; but I'm only 
 a poor girl, and I'm getting pretty near my 
 last dollar oh, here he is ! Good-by, Master 
 Eugene ; I'll call for you at nine." 
 
 The sergeant and Eugene went slowly down 
 the staircase, arid Virtue Ann stood watching 
 them until they were out of sight. Then she 
 drew a long sigh, and went into the kitchen to 
 get something to eat/ 
 
 The sergeant and Eugene scarcely spoke as 
 they went along the street. The man was 
 silent because lie was wondering what he could 
 do to help the boy beside him. The boy was 
 silent because, despite himself, a soft joy and 
 peace were stealing into his troubled heart, as 
 he once more mingled with his fellow-beings, 
 and breathed the pure evening air. 
 
52 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 At last the sergeant stopped before a neat 
 wooden house near the Fens. " This is my 
 home," he said. 
 
 Eugene brought back his eyes from the dis- 
 tant horizon, and flashed a quick, appreciative 
 glance at the small house and the pretty gar- 
 den. 
 
 "Come in," said the sergeant gruffly. "My 
 wife will be getting the supper." 
 
 Eugene saw no face looking out for them 
 between the ruffled window curtains. All was 
 quiet and still, the sergeant had evidently no 
 children ; and the boy thoughtfully went into 
 the house, and hung up his cap on a rack in 
 the hall. 
 
 " I'll not put you in the parlor," said the 
 sergeant. "Let's go find the missis;" and he 
 stalked out toward the kitchen at the back of 
 the house. 
 
 Eugene followed him curiously, and with 
 some hesitation. 
 
 " Isn't that a picture ? " said the sergeant. 
 He had pushed open the kitchen door ; and 
 Eugene, looking in, saw a small, exquisitely 
 
WELL, WIFE, I'VE BROUGHT A VISITOR HOME TO-XIGHT." 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 53 
 
 clean room, with pictures on the walls, and 
 white curtains at the windows, and a woman 
 cooking something over a gas-stove. 
 
 " Well, wife," said the sergeant agreeably, 
 "I've brought a visitor home to-night; he's 
 the little French boy I told you about. He 
 has had a great misfortune, his grandfather 
 is dead; "and he gently pushed Eugene for- 
 ward. 
 
 The woman raised her head slightly; and 
 Eugene saw that she had a fresh face, rather 
 younger than the sergeant's, clear blue eyes, 
 and a quantity of soft white hair. 
 
 " Stephen, " she said, in a spoiled, almost 
 childish voice, " how could you ? there's only 
 stew enough for two, and you know I don't 
 like boys." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know," he said good-naturedly. 
 " Here's the boy ; just look round and tell him 
 so yourself." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy did turn around in the twin- 
 kling of an eye, the uplifted spoon in her hand. 
 "How do you do?" she said quickly. "I did- 
 n't see you don't mind what I say. I have 
 
54 * THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 just a little prejudice against boys, because they 
 tease my cats." 
 
 "And this boy has a little prejudice against 
 you on two scores,' 5 said the sergeant, chuck- 
 ling amiably. 
 
 "What are they?" asked Mrs. Hardy, 
 
 "I'll tell you later on," said the sergeant. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy laughed softly, and bent her 
 white head over the stove ; while her husband 
 pointed to a rocking-chair drawn up by one 
 of the windows, and hospitably invited Eugene 
 to sit down on it. 
 
 Eugene, however, would not seat himself 
 while his hostess was standing, and contented 
 himself with leaning against it. 
 
 The sergeant excused himself, and went 
 away to change his uniform ; while Mrs. Hardy, 
 between the intervals of stirring the dish on 
 the stove, looked curiously at Eugene over her 
 shoulder. 
 
 She was dressed all in white ; and there was 
 something so attractive and unique in her ap- 
 pearance, in her fresh face and her snowy 
 hair, that the boy had difficulty in keeping 
 himself from staring at her. 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 55 
 
 " So your grandfather is dead," she said in 
 a low voice, as if she were talking to herself. 
 " You must feel badly about it, though you 
 are only a boy." 
 
 Eugene, without knowing why, felt himself 
 growing sorry for her because she was sorry 
 for him. 
 
 " One must suffer in this world," he said 
 patronizingly. "It is fate." 
 
 " You are young to have found that out," 
 said the woman quietly. Then, before he 
 could answer her, she said, " Do you like 
 oyster stew ? " 
 
 " I shall eat with pleasure anything that 
 you prepare, madam," said the boy courte- 
 ously; "and, indeed, that is one of my favor- 
 ite dishes allow me to assist you;"- and he 
 hurried forward to help her in carrying the 
 dish to the near dining-room. 
 
 " Did you hear me say that there would 
 not be enough oysters for three?" asked Mrs. 
 Hardy, fixing her bright blue eyes on the 
 boy's face. 
 
 "No, madam," he said without hesitation. 
 
56 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 "But you must have you were close by." 
 
 Eugene tried not to smile, but he could 
 not help it. 
 
 " You are telling a story in order to save 
 my feelings, aren't you?" she said brusquely. 
 
 Eugene shrugged his shoulders. " A story 
 well, scarcely that." 
 
 "It is better to hurt my feelings," she said 
 gravely, " than to say what is not true. I 
 spoke too quickly about the oysters. Here 
 is cold meat and a salad we shall have 
 enough. I suppose you like oil in your 
 salad." 
 
 " I do, madam." 
 
 " I've noticed French people do. My hus- 
 band takes sugar and vinegar on his. Now 
 I will get the chocolate, and we can sit down 
 as soon as Stephen comes." 
 
 "Why, you and my wife are getting on fa- 
 mously," said the sergeant, rubbing his hands 
 as he entered the room. 
 
 Eugene looked at him. His appearance 
 was quite changed. He was now dressed in 
 a suit of dark brown clothes, and he wore a 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 57 
 
 red necktie, and had a white flower in his 
 buttonhole. 
 
 " This boy is not like other boys," said 
 Mrs. Hardy calmly; "he is a gentleman." 
 
 " So you like him," said the sergeant teas- 
 ingly. "A pity it is that he can't like you." 
 
 "Why can't he like me?" said Mrs. Hardy, 
 sitting down behind the chocolate and milk 
 pitchers, and motioning Eugene to sit beside 
 her. 
 
 " Because you are two things that he 
 doesn't care for." 
 
 " What are they ? " 
 
 " You are a woman and a former school- 
 teacher." 
 
 "Don't you like women?" asked Mrs. 
 Hardy of Eugene. 
 
 " Madam," he said gallantly, " the world 
 would be a dreary place without your charm- 
 ing sex." 
 
 " And school-teachers ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I detest them," he said frankly, 
 " with but few exceptions ; " and he bowed 
 to her. 
 
58 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 "Do you always talk like this?" asked 
 Mrs. Hardy with undisguised curiosity. 
 
 Eugene smiled at her. He knew that he 
 talked like a grown-up man. 
 
 " Don't tease the boy," said the sergeant. 
 " He isn't a prig, anyway. Do you know," 
 he went on, addressing Eugene, " that I'm 
 very fond of my wife ? " 
 
 " You do not surprise me," said Eugene 
 with his lips ; and in his heart he thought, 
 " What astonishing candor ! I never met such 
 people." 
 
 " Her father used to be worth his weight 
 in gold," said the sergeant. " He owned a 
 flour-mill. Then he failed and died ; and my 
 wife, like a brave girl, taught and supported 
 herself till I married her. I guess she'll 
 never do that again, though. She has got a 
 rich old aunt that is going to leave her some 
 money some day, so she will be provided for 
 whatever happens to me." 
 
 " I congratulate you," said Eugene to his 
 hostess. 
 
 "I hope your grand-uncle will do as square 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 59 
 
 a thing by you as her aunt is doing by her," 
 said the sergeant. " We've got it down in 
 black and white." 
 
 Eugene's face grew so pale that Mrs. Hardy 
 shook her head at her husband. Then she 
 pressed the boy to eat various things that 
 she laid on his plate. 
 
 " Your hair is just like a pile of snow 
 to-night," said the sergeant, affectionately re- 
 garding the top of his wife's head. "Do 
 you know, boy, some people are mischievous 
 enough to ask if that hair has been turned 
 white on account of my sins ? " and he 
 laughed uproariously. " What do you tell 
 them, Bess ? " 
 
 " I tell them no," she said, shaking her 
 head. "We all turn gray in our family when 
 we're forty." 
 
 "It gives you the appearance of being in 
 grande toilette" said Eugene, who had recovered 
 his composure. " One could imagine you just 
 stepping into your carriage to attend a ball." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy looked pleased, and handed him 
 a huge slice of cake. 
 
60 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 The Hardys did not spend a very long time 
 at the table ; and when supper was over the 
 sergeant withdrew to the garden to smoke, 
 while Eugene begged to assist his hostess in 
 carrying the dishes to the kitchen. 
 
 "Do you really want to do it?" she said 
 earnestly ; " or is it only your politeness that 
 makes you ask ? No, don't answer quickly ; 
 take a minute to think." 
 
 Out through the open window Eugene could 
 see the little garden flooded with electric light 
 from the near street, and the sergeant saunter- 
 ing about it with a pipe in his mouth. 
 
 " You had rather be with him, had you not ? " 
 said Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 " I had," replied Eugene, the words slipping 
 out of his mouth before he could recall them. 
 
 " Then, run away," said Mrs. Hardy ; "it is 
 good for boys to be in the open air as much 
 as possible, and I am used to washing my 
 dishes myself. That china belonged to my 
 mother, and was very expensive, and you might 
 let it fall ; and then, perhaps you would spot 
 your velvet suit." 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 61 
 
 Eugene went out-of-doors ; and while walk- 
 ing about the moist garden paths, he followed 
 the sergeant's directions with regard to picking 
 a number of the sweet tremulous flowers to 
 take home with him. 
 
 " What games can you play? " asked the 
 sergeant as his eye ran over the pleasing sym- 
 metry of Eugene's figure. 
 
 " I can fence and dance," said Eugene, " and 
 ride passably ; also I am fond of fishing, and I 
 can run well at the game one calls ' prisoner's 
 base ' in this country." 
 
 " Good ; but what have you done here ? Do 
 you play base-ball and cricket or foot-ball ? " 
 
 " Not as yet," said the boy sadly, but proudly ; 
 " we can afford nothing." 
 
 "We must see to that if you stay in Boston," 
 said the sergeant. " You'll not make yourself 
 a man if you don't have manly exercise. Why, 
 here's Dodo coming home, and old Toddles 
 with her." 
 
 Eugene lifted up his eyes and smiled in 
 amusement at two rather decrepit cats that 
 were climbing the garden fence. 
 
62 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " These are our house cats," said the ser- 
 geant, " promoted from the park to home ser- 
 vice on account of old age. Come in, pussies, 
 and have some supper." 
 
 The tortoiseshell pair before entering the 
 house walked purringly around the sergeant, 
 and rubbed themselves against his legs. 
 
 " It's wonderful what affection the creatures 
 have," he said musingly, as he took his pipe 
 from his mouth, and looked down at them. 
 " Don't you like dumb animals, boy ? " 
 
 "I had a pony in France that I rather cared 
 for," said Eugene, " and I like hunting-dogs 
 imperfectly well." 
 
 " But you don't understand dumb creatures," 
 said the sergeant. " I can tell by the way that 
 you speak that you don't. There's a whole 
 book of knowledge shut up from you, boy. 
 Some day perhaps it will be opened, and you'll 
 enjoy life more from knowing that there are 
 more live things to enjoy it and to like you 
 than you have had any suspicion of. Let's 
 go in now. I guess the missis has got things 
 tidied." 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 63 
 
 Mrs. Hardy was standing on the porch, look- 
 ing like a girl with her slim figure and white 
 gown. 
 
 " Would you like to play some games ? " she 
 asked her guest softly. 
 
 He showed a polite pleasure at the proposal, 
 and during the next two hours Mrs. Hardy 
 initiated him into the mysteries of some Amer- 
 ican parlor amusements that he had never be- 
 fore heard of. 
 
 When Virtue Ann came for him, his cheeks 
 were flushed and his face happy. He looked 
 like a different boy from the little careworn 
 creature that had arrived there a few hours 
 earlier. 
 
 " Thank you kindly, ma'am," said Virtue 
 Ann in a low voice to Mrs. Hardy ; " you've 
 done an angel's deed in comforting him. I'm 
 sure I don't know what's to become of the 
 little lad ; " and she sighed heavily. 
 
 All the evening Mrs. Hardy had been re- 
 garding the boy with a curious intentness of 
 gaze. At Virtue Ann's words her eyes again 
 wandered to Eugene ; and she said wistfully, 
 
64 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Do you say that he is quite alone in the 
 world, quite,' quite alone ? " 
 
 " Yes ; except his old grand-uncle in France," 
 said Virtue Ann with a sniff. " He'll not do 
 anything for him, I misdoubt. I've heard the 
 grandfather talking about him ; and I guess 
 he's no better than a skinflint, and " but here 
 Virtue Ann was obliged to break off abruptly, 
 for Eugene came forward to take leave of his 
 hostess. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy listened with a smile on her 
 face to his well-bred assurances that he had 
 had a pleasant visit. 
 
 "You were criticising us all the time," she 
 said keenly; and when Eugene, in discompo- 
 sure, could do nothing but gaze helplessly at 
 her, she bent down suddenly and kissed him. 
 
 " Never mind, little lad," she said, " I know 
 that this has been a change for you. Good- 
 night, good-night;" and long after her husband 
 went into the house, she stood in the doorway, 
 her eyes wandering down the street that Virtue 
 Ann and her young charge had taken to go 
 home. 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 65 
 
 Virtue Ann had been quite impressed by the 
 cosiness and pretty furnishings of the little 
 cottage, and by the mingled dignity and oddity 
 of the sergeant's wife. 
 
 " She was like an old picture with that white 
 hair," she murmured to herself ; " and yet there's 
 110 nonsense about her. I guess she's a good 
 housekeeper too, for everything was as neat as 
 wax. What a good home that would be for 
 Master Eugene ! " and she sighed as she glanced 
 at the quiet lad beside her. 
 
 Sergeant Hardy was tired that night, and 
 went to bed as soon as Eugene had left his 
 house. About one o'clock he was awakened 
 by the sound of suppressed sobbing ; and start- 
 ing up in bed, he dimly saw his wife standing 
 by the window. 
 
 " What's the matter, Bess ? " he asked 
 sleepily. 
 
 She lifted her white head that she had laid 
 against the window-pane. " O Stephen ! did I 
 wake you ? I'm sorry. It's nothing go to 
 sleep again." 
 
 " People don't get up out of bed in the mid- 
 
66 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 die of the night to go lean up against win- 
 dows and stare out into the dark for nothing," 
 he said in a matter-of-fact way. " What's 
 wrong with you, Bess ? " 
 
 " Stephen," she said in a repressed voice, 
 " in all the years that we've been married 
 you've often heard me say how glad I am 
 that I've never had a child." 
 
 "Often, Bess." 
 
 " How glad how delighted I am," she 
 went on quietly, though he knew by her tones 
 that she was trembling like a leaf, "that we 
 have not had to launch another little child 
 into this world of care and trouble ; it's such 
 a sad world for children." 
 
 " I know, I know," he said, trying not to 
 yawn as he listened to her. 
 
 " They're such a worry when they're grow- 
 ing up," she continued sorrowfully; "they get 
 ill, and you have to fuss over them in the 
 daytime, and they call you out of your warm 
 bed at night." 
 
 "Of course they do," he responded. "They're 
 always bleating like lambs after their parents." 
 
A CHILD IN TROUBLE. 67 
 
 "And mothers get dragged down and worn 
 out; and then, when the little things grow old 
 enough to be a comfort, they go away from 
 you out into the world, or else you die and 
 leave them, and almost break your heart in the 
 going, because you think other people won't 
 be as tender with them as you have been." 
 
 "Naturally," growled the sergeant. "A 
 body would almost think you had been 
 through the experience." 
 
 " There are too many children in the 
 world," said his wife vehemently. " Hear me 
 say again, Stephen, that I'm glad, glad, glad, 
 that I have never had any;" and she sank out 
 of his sight into a seat in a dark corner, and 
 covered her face with her hands. 
 
 "You're so glad," said her husband kindly, 
 and yet a little ironically, "that you're cry- 
 ing your eyes out about it." 
 
 " Let me alone, Stephen," she said passion- 
 ately ; " let me cry. You have always been 
 kind and indulgent with me, and let me have 
 my own way ; and I have got selfish, and look 
 out always for my own comfort." 
 
68 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Oh ! never mind, never mind, Bess," he 
 said consolingly. " Get into bed again ; you'll 
 take cold." 
 
 " No, no ! " she exclaimed. " Let me be 
 unselfish for once. Let me imagine that in 
 the next room there is a little sick child, that 
 it may call me at any minute, that I must be 
 ready to go to it ; " and sobbing as if her 
 heart would break, she drew her white hair 
 over her head like a veil, and curled herself 
 up miserably on the low seat. 
 
 The sergeant looked in her direction com- 
 passionately and with resignation. " I'd cry 
 with you, Bess, if I could," he said drowsily, 
 "but I can't. I'll get up and make a hot 
 drink for you, though, if you like." 
 
 u No, no; I don't want a hot drink," she 
 moaned. 
 
 "I guess I'll just let you alone. You 
 women like to make yourselves miserable 
 sometimes," he said philosophically; and lay- 
 ing his head down on the pillow, he was soon 
 asleep. 
 
THE REST OF THE CATS. 69 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE REST OF THE CATS. 
 
 EUGENE had faithfully promised the sergeant 
 that he would go for a walk in the park the 
 next morning, and there the sergeant accord, 
 ingly met him at eleven o'clock. 
 
 The boy was strolling along the southern 
 part of the Fens ; and as he halted near the 
 Agassiz bridge, the sergeant caught up with 
 him. 
 
 " Good-morning," he said cheerily. " Where's 
 your nurse with the good name to-day? " 
 
 " Good-morning," said Eugene with a bright 
 look at him. "Virtue Ann had sweeping to 
 do ; and she says that I am now sufficiently 
 old to go out unattended, though it is not 
 the custom to do so in my country until one 
 is older." 
 
 " You're big enough to go alone," said the 
 sergeant. " We think here that it makes a 
 
70 THE KING OF THE PAEK. 
 
 mollycoddle of a boy to have some one at his 
 heels watching him all the time. Have you 
 paid your respects to John O'Reilly this morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 " No ; I have just arrived from home. I 
 shall go there later." 
 
 " No news from France yet I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! it is not time." 
 
 " Well, you'll have to wait. There's nothing 
 like patience in this life. Don't you want to 
 come down this path with me, and see the rest 
 of my colony of cats ? This is where they 
 live." 
 
 " It will give me great pleasure," said 
 Eugene. 
 
 The sergeant turned abruptly from the road 
 to a shady path leading to a duck-pond. Sta- 
 tioning himself midway in it, he gave a whistle 
 that Eugene noticed was quite different from 
 his call for King Boozy. 
 
 The boy stood aside ; and presently he saw 
 little gray heads peeping cautiously from be- 
 tween the leaves, and heard a number of timid 
 voices giving tentative mews of welcome. 
 
TlIEX THE CATS CAME FAST EXOUGH, YOUXG AND OLD, GAV AND 
 SOBER. 
 
THE REST OF THE CATS. 71 
 
 " It isn't feeding-time," said the sergeant ; 
 " when it is they just tumble over each other 
 to get to me. and they're a little afraid of 
 you." 
 
 Eugene drew still farther back ; and then 
 the cats came fast enough, young and old, 
 gay and sober ones, purring contentedly and 
 waving their tails, as they circled in and out 
 about the sergeant, and jumped up to rub them- 
 selves against him. 
 
 " Those are sisters," said the sergeant, in- 
 dicating two young gray pussies who were 
 walking about with tails held proudly aloft; 
 "and that is the old mother, the queen of 
 the gang," he added, laughing at an austere 
 Maltese cat who was cuffing the ears of a kit- 
 ten ; " she makes them stand round." 
 
 Eugene addressed a complimentary remark 
 to the Maltese cat, who stared at him suspi- 
 ciously from eyes that looked like white cur- 
 rants in the strong light of the sun. 
 
 " You can't deceive her," said the sergeant, 
 as the cat turned away from Eugene to join 
 the band about their patron. "She knows you 
 
72 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 don't like her. You can fool a human being 
 quicker than you can an animal ; and an 
 animal won't lie as often as a human being, 
 though they will do it sometimes. You needn't 
 try to catch them, little one," he went on, ad- 
 dressing a child who came suddenly racing 
 down a path ; " they won't let any one but 
 the park police lay a hand on them." 
 
 Every cat had disappeared at the advent of 
 the child, and with a disappointed face she 
 went back the way she had come. 
 
 " Would you like to see the cats' winter bed- 
 fellows?" said the sergeant, addressing Eu- 
 gene. 
 
 " I should like it remarkably well," said the 
 boy ; and he followed the sergeant to the duck- 
 pond. 
 
 On arriving there the sergeant gave a third 
 variety of whistle, and a host of glossy crea- 
 tures rushed ashore, quacking and gabbling re- 
 proachfully at their friend, who stood merely 
 looking at them without offering them food. 
 
 " They're annoyed with me, " he said ; and 
 he laughed, as the ducks one and all struck 
 
THE REST OF THE CATS. 73 
 
 the ground sharply with their beaks, and turn- 
 ing their backs on him filed into the pond. 
 
 " You greedy things," he went on ; " your 
 thoughts don't get much higher than good 
 living, though you're pretty kind to the cats 
 in winter. Do you know ducks and cats all 
 sleep together after it gets cold ? " 
 
 " Really ! " ejaculated Eugene. " Is that a 
 possible thing?" 
 
 " Yes," said the sergeant ; " they sleep in 
 boxes filled with hay. My wife says it is 
 ' sweet ' to see the ducklings and kittens 
 brought up together. She has a very kind 
 heart for animals, has my wife." 
 
 " I can well imagine that Mrs. Hardy is 
 always kind," said Eugene. 
 
 The sergeant glanced at him sharply. The 
 boy spoke in the tones of ordinary politeness, 
 not warmly by any means. 
 
 " Do you keep no pigeons ? " Eugene went 
 on. 
 
 " Yes, a few," said the sergeant. 
 
 " And where is the place that they live, 
 the pigeonnier, as one says in France ? " 
 
74 THE KING OF THE PAEK. 
 
 "In the top of the duck-house. They have 
 no house of their own." 
 
 "In France nearly every country house has 
 a pigeonnier" said Eugene. 
 
 "We'll get one here in time," said the ser- 
 geant. "Now, if you want to inspect the rest 
 of my menagerie, let us go back to the bridge." 
 
 " What have you there ? " asked Eugene as 
 they paced slowly up the path. 
 
 "A flock of twenty-one geese. See, there 
 they are out on the marshes. Hello, they're 
 having a quarrel with the wild geese." 
 
 "Have you wild ones also?" 
 
 "A few only. Hear how they're screaming. 
 What tempers ! I'll whistle, and perhaps I'll 
 catch their attention." 
 
 The sergeant whistled in vain. The wind 
 was blowing over the marshes, and the geese 
 were too much engaged in their dispute to 
 heed his voice that only reached them faintly. 
 
 " They remind me of the prairie fowl out 
 West," said the sergeant. " They were mighty 
 fond of dancing round each other, but they 
 always wound up with a row. Now, I haven't 
 
THE EEST OF THE CATS. 75 
 
 anything more to show you this morning. I 
 believe I'll walk up Boylston Street way with 
 you a bit. Come over some feeding-time to 
 see these creatures. They're more interesting 
 then. Don't bring your nurse, though, down 
 here. These cats just hate women." 
 
 "For the same reason that the lung does?" 
 asked Eugene. 
 
 " Yes ; they've mostly been turned out-of- 
 doors by women, and they don't forget it. I'm 
 sorry it's so, for I am fond of women myself; 
 but animals, and cats especially, don't forget 
 an injury ; that is, the most of them don't. 
 They're very like us, some forgive and some 
 don't ; and they're just as full of contradictions 
 as we are. Some of them will put up with 
 things from the few people they like best that 
 they won't put up with from a stranger. For 
 instance, a dog will let his master cuff him 
 round, when he'd bite a stranger that would 
 Lay a finger on him. That's just the way we 
 are with our own families. My wife and I 
 will take things from each other that we 
 wouldn't from other people. By the way, 
 
76 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 there are some fine boys coming along that I'd 
 like to introduce you to. Do you see them ? 
 That is a grand fellow, that one with the foot- 
 ball under his arm." 
 
 Eugene shrank back, and made a gesture of 
 dissent. 
 
 "You'll like them," said the sergeant ear- 
 nestly ; and before Eugene could speak he had 
 addressed the boys, who halted before him. 
 
 " We are going to run races on the long 
 path," said one of them. 
 
 " You ought to cut over the ground like a 
 North Dakota jack-rabbit," said the sergeant 
 turning to Eugene. 
 
 The French lad tried to speak, but could not. 
 He had so long been cut off from the society 
 of other boys that getting among them again 
 was like taking a plunge into a cold bath. 
 However, one boy, to whom the sergeant nodded 
 in a significant way, took Eugene under his 
 protection ; and with unconcealed delight the 
 sergeant stood watching the round dozen of 
 them kick up their heels, and scamper over the 
 level road toward their racing-ground. 
 
THE REST OF THE CATS. 77 
 
 Eugene, to the sergeant's pride, kept up 
 with the best of them. " He is long and lean, 
 just like a greyhound," muttered the man as 
 he went contentedly on his tour of inspection 
 through the park ; " but he looks a little under- 
 fed. I wish he could get some of Bess's roast 
 beef occasionally." 
 
 When the sergeant went home to his dinner 
 at one o'clock, he told his wife about meeting 
 Eugene. 
 
 " I'm glad you sent him to play," she said. 
 " His nurse has been here, and we were talk- 
 ing about him. It's a shame to have the child 
 so like an old man." 
 
 " Yes ; it is," said the sergeant absently. 
 " What have you got for dinner, Bess ? I'm 
 fearfully hungry, and I smell something good." 
 
 " Steak and onions and apple-pie," said his 
 wife. "Stephen, I want that boy." 
 
 " You want that boy ! " said her husband in 
 a dazed manner. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Just exactly what I say," she replied with 
 great composure. " I want him to come here. 
 His nurse has heard of a good situation, and 
 
78 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 it is too bad to keep her on there living with 
 him when they have so little money." 
 
 Her husband sat down to the table, and 
 
 began to carve the steak. " Bess," he said 
 
 remonstratingly, " you couldn't get him here 
 
 that little thoroughbred, proud fellow. He 
 
 looks down on us." 
 
 " Why does he look down on us ? " asked 
 Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 " Well, I guess he thinks we don't belong 
 to the aristocracy." 
 
 " Aren't you as good a man as there is in 
 this city ? " asked Mrs. Hardy earnestly. 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder if I am," said the ser- 
 geant with great complacency, " though I 
 might be better than I am. But, Bess, you 
 don't understand." 
 
 " I understand this much," she said. " Here 
 is a lonely child in a big city, without a soul 
 but a poor ignorant nurse to look after him. 
 If you take him b}^ force, and put him some- 
 where where he doesn't want to go, he'll pine 
 to death. If we can coax him here, and make 
 him happy till something is arranged" 
 
THE REST OF THE CATS. 79 
 
 " That's all very fine," said the sergeant ; 
 " I see what you're after, Bess. You've taken 
 a great fancy to that boy. You'll get him here, 
 and fall to petting him ; then, when he's sent 
 for to go to France, you'll break your heart." 
 
 " I don't believe he will ever be sent for," 
 said Mrs. Hardy calmly. 
 
 The sergeant laid aside his knife and fork, 
 and brought his hand down on the table. "Now 
 understand, Bess, once for all, I'm not going 
 to bring up other people's children. If I had 
 a son of my own it would be different. How 
 do we know how this little shaver will turn 
 out ? His head is crammed full of notions, 
 and he thinks no more of telling a lie than I 
 do of telling the truth." 
 
 " Some one has to bring him up," said Mrs. 
 Hardy ; " and he only tells stories out of polite- 
 ness. He will get over it." 
 
 "I told you before that he's different from 
 us," said the sergeant irritably. " Don't tease, 
 Bess." 
 
 " No, I won't, Stephen," she said quietly ; 
 " perhaps you are right, only " 
 
80 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Only what ? " asked her husband. 
 
 "Only I'm lonely here all day without you," 
 she said in a low voice. 
 
 " Will you give me a cup of tea ? " asked 
 her husband. "You're not crying, are you?" 
 he went on suspiciously. 
 
 " No, Stephen ; I cried enough last night to 
 last me for a long time." 
 
 "You don't usually have a crying-spell oftener 
 than once in six weeks," he remarked with 
 assumed cheerfulness. " I guess some one 
 will look out for that boy. I daresay there 
 are lots of rich people in this city that would 
 adopt him if they knew what a grand family 
 he comes of." 
 
 " Rich people aren't as kind as poor ones, 
 Stephen, you know that." 
 
 " Yes, I do," he said warmly. " I notice it 
 isn't the best-dressed people that give nickels 
 to the beggars in the streets. It's the shabby 
 woman that takes out her purse when she 
 passes some poor wretch. She's been there, 
 or near enough to pity not that I approve 
 of encouraging begging," he added in an offi- 
 cial manner. 
 
THE REST OF THE CATS. 81 
 
 "It must be terrible not to have enough to 
 eat," said Mrs. Hardy with a shudder. 
 
 The sergeant shuddered too. " Bess," he 
 said, " it's easy enougli to say that, but not 
 one person in a million can feel it. Most 
 people haven't the slightest idea what starva- 
 tion is. I've told you about my getting lost 
 out West on the plains. All the man went 
 out of me two days after we ate our last bite 
 of food. I was nothing but a beast. I could 
 have eaten you if you had been there. The 
 pain and the sickness and the dreams of food 
 were awful, and for weeks after we were found 
 I could digest only the simplest things. Do 
 you suppose that boy ever goes hungry?" 
 
 " Meat is rather expensive in Boston," said 
 Mrs. Hardy. "I think by what the girl says 
 they don't get much of that." 
 
 The sergeant finished his dinner in silence ; 
 and in silence he buckled on his belt, and took 
 his helmet and went to the front door. Then 
 he came back again. 
 
 "Bess," he said gruffly, "you said last night 
 what a good husband I'd been to you." 
 
82 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Yes, Stephen," she replied ; " and I say it 
 again, now and always, and I don't care who 
 hears me." 
 
 " Well, you've been a good wife to me," he 
 returned ; " and I don't care who hears me say 
 it, either. Get that boy here if you like 
 maybe it is a good move. We're always hav- 
 ing to do things in the dark in this life, and 
 then some way or other light shines on us ; 
 but Bess " and he hesitated, and looked at 
 her from under drooping eyelids as shyly as 
 if he were a boy himself. 
 
 She went up quickly to him, and laid a hand 
 on his broad chest. " I know what you want 
 to say, Stephen, you are jealous ; you are afraid 
 I'll think more of that little boy than I do of 
 
 you." 
 
 " That's about the figure of it," he replied. 
 
 " Aren't you ashamed of yourself ? " she said, 
 " not only to mention such a thing to me, but 
 to dare to think it to yourself. You a big, 
 strong man to be jealous of that little delicate 
 lad. You know just as well as I do why I like 
 him." 
 
THE REST OF THE CATS. 83 
 
 The sergeant's face cleared. u You like him 
 for the same reason that you like the cats," he 
 said. " He's been cast out, and he hasn't any 
 one to take an interest in him. Well, pet him 
 all you like, and have him here if you can get 
 him, I don't care ; " and the sergeant serenely 
 kissed her, and then wended his way back to 
 the park. 
 
84 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MRS. HARDY MAKES A CALL. 
 
 IN the middle of that same afternoon, Brid- 
 get and Virtue Ann were sitting in the lat- 
 ter's kitchen, talking volubly. 
 
 "And sure that's a boss place," Bridget 
 was saying. " You'd do well to jump at the 
 chance, Virtue Ann. Four girls kept, and 
 you only to do part of the up-stairs work ; 
 and it's lucky you are." 
 
 " But the child," said Virtue Ann uneasily. 
 
 " Troth, and it's a pity about him," said 
 Bridget ; " but to look out for number one is 
 the game to-day. You can't tie to your apron- 
 strings a child that hasn't a ghost of a claim 
 on you." 
 
 "No, I can't," said Virtue Ann; "I know 
 I'm standing in my own light, yet there's 
 something witchy about the little fellow. I 
 wake up in the night and think about him, 
 and vow I'll never leave him." 
 
MRS. HARDY MAKES A CALL. 85 
 
 " And in the morning it's forgetting ye 
 are," said Bridget with a light laugh. " Faith, 
 I'd shake him off in the winking of an eye. 
 It's the city that'll look after him, since his 
 grandfather was an infidel, and they haven't a 
 claim on the holy church. Och ! murder, me 
 boy ! Virtue Ann ! " and Bridget wound up 
 her remarks with a squeal of dismay ; for 
 Eugene stood in the doorway, his black, pier- 
 cing eyes fixed severely on her face. 
 
 He did not speak to her, but turned to his 
 nurse. "Virtue Ann," he asked in a sad, 
 penetrating voice, " is it true that you wish 
 to leave me? " 
 
 " Master Eugene," stammered the girl, " I 
 thought you were on the sofa asleep, being 
 tired from your walk in the park this morning ; 
 I'm sure I never dreamed if I'd thought 
 you were awake I'd have shut the door." 
 
 " Have you a situation offered to you ? " 
 asked Eugene coldly. 
 
 "Yes, she has," interposed Bridget; "and 
 that is the truth of the matter; and you'll be 
 a good boy, sir, now won't you ? " 
 
86 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 Eugene still paid no attention to her; and 
 Virtue Ann went on, " I'll not leave you, 
 Master Eugene, don't you be afeard of it. 
 I'm just talking to while away the time." 
 
 " Where is it that you wish to go ? " asked 
 Eugene. 
 
 44 It's to Brookline," interposed Bridget. 
 " To a fine house, where she'll get lots of 
 wages, and maybe find a nice home for you, 
 me boy, if you'll be a good, peaceable lad, 
 and let her go quiet-like and aisy." 
 
 " When are you required to be there ? " 
 pursued Eugene. 
 
 " Never, Master Eugene," said Virtue Ann 
 hysterically. "I'm not going. It's only talk." 
 
 "And it's to-morrow morning her new mis- 
 tress would like to have her," said Bridget; 
 44 for in the evening she gives a grand dinner- 
 party, and they'll be glad of extra help for the 
 waiting." 
 
 44 How much do I owe you, Virtue Ann ? " 
 asked Eugene. 
 
 44 Nothing, nothing," said the girl wildly. 
 44 Oh ! I don't know what brought us into this 
 
MBS. HARDY MAKES A CALL. 87 
 
 scrape. Bridget, I wish you'd held your 
 tongue." 
 
 The boy took out his little purse, and 
 opened it. There was not much money in it. 
 He turned over a few silver pieces with the 
 tips of his slim, aristocratic fingers, and his 
 white face grew whiter. Still he said firmly, 
 "It will be necessary to sell the furniture. I 
 will arrange for it. You may leave me in 
 the morning, Virtue Ann ; " and he withdrew 
 as softly as he had come. 
 
 "The little impident thing," said Bridget 
 wrathfully. " He niver once cast a glance at 
 me." 
 
 " He'll never speak to you again," said Vir- 
 tue Ann mournfully, "nor to me either, after 
 I leave him. I know him ; he's the most un- 
 forgiving little mortal that ever drew breath. 
 Oh ! I wish I hadn't offended him ; " and she 
 put her apron up to her face and began to cry. 
 
 "Oh, whisht!" said Bridget impatiently. 
 " Just you leave him here ; some one will take 
 care of him." 
 
 " Oh, I can't, I can't ! " said Virtue Ann. 
 
THE KING OF THE PA UK. 
 
 " He's all alone in the world. He don't know 
 any one here, or care for any one, unless it's 
 that police sergeant. I guess I'll go see him 
 right away." 
 
 " Hist ! " said Bridget, " there's a ring at the 
 bell ; go see who it is." 
 
 Virtue Ann sprang up, dried her tears, and 
 hurried into the little hall. Mrs. Hardy's voice 
 was asking through the tube if she might 
 come up. "Certainly, certainly, ma'am," said 
 Virtue Ann joyfully ; and when a few minutes 
 after she looked over the stair-railing, and saw 
 Mrs. Hardy's white head, crowned by a big 
 black hat, appearing, she exclaimed, " I'm just 
 tickled to death to see you, ma'am. Would 
 you," and she lowered her voice to a myste- 
 rious whisper, u mind coming to the kitchen 
 for a minute? Master Eugene's in the parlor, 
 and I want to tell you something." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy nodded her head, and without 
 speaking followed the girl to the kitchen, and 
 stood looking in a puzzled way at Bridget, 
 whom she had not seen before. 
 
 Virtue Ann quickly explained the situation 
 of affairs to her. 
 
MES. HAEDY MAKES A CALL. 89 
 
 Mrs. Hardy listened attentively ; and when 
 Virtue Ann finished speaking, she said, " Will 
 you take me to the boy? I have just come to 
 ask him to visit us as long as he likes." 
 
 Virtue Ann was almost beside herself with 
 relief. "You've the best heart in the world, 
 ma'am," she said enthusiastically. "This is the 
 most pleasurable thing that could happen to 
 him. Oh, I'm out of my senses for joy ! " and 
 she seized Mrs. Hardy's hand in her own. 
 
 The sergeant's wife smiled at her; then she 
 asked again, somewhat impatiently, where Eu- 
 gene was. 
 
 " Here, ma'am," said Virtue Ann ; and she 
 threw open the door of the -small parlor. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy's face changed quickly. The 
 boy sat by the table, his young head bent over 
 a piece of paper, on which he was laboriously 
 writing figures. She knew that his childish 
 head was throbbing with the vain effort to find 
 some way by which he could increase the sum 
 of money that he had on hand. 
 
 Poor little one ! and vain task beyond his 
 years, she thought pitifully ; but she restrained 
 
90 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 herself from any open expression of sympathy, 
 for she knew that he would not appreciate 
 it. 
 
 He got up slowly when he saw her, and of- 
 fered her his seat ; and with a sharp pang at her 
 heart she noticed the curious facility and un- 
 childishness with which he put his own trouble 
 from him, and waited courteously to hear the 
 object of her visit. 
 
 " I have come to see you," she began ab- 
 sently, then she paused. Could this indeed 
 be the same little boy that her husband had 
 seen scampering merrily over the Fens only 
 that morning? 
 
 " Did you win any of the races to-day ? " 
 she said irrelevantly. 
 
 Some color came into Eugene's face, and 
 made him look like a delicate bit of porcelain. 
 " I did," he said eagerly. " I amused myself 
 very much; and I am invited to go again to- 
 morrow if if other matters will permit ; " and 
 he grew grave again. 
 
 " What do you mean by other matters ? " 
 asked Mrs. Hardy. 
 
MRS. HAEDT MAKES A CALL. 91 
 
 " My servant wishes to leave me," said 
 Eugene. " I shall dismiss her in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy did not know whether to laugh 
 or to cry. She certainly took a strange inter- 
 est in this boy. " And what will you do," 
 she asked, " after the girl goes away ? " 
 
 " I shall remain here," said Eugene, " until 
 my letter arrives from France." 
 
 " But you cannot stay alone." 
 
 " Why not, madam ? " 
 
 " Who ever heard of such a thing ? " she 
 said ; " you are a mere child. You cannot. 
 Who will cook for you?" 
 
 "There are cafes and bake-houses near by," 
 said Eugene calmly. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy stretched an appealing black- 
 gloved hand to him. " Come to us," she 
 said. "I am here to-day to ask you to make 
 us a long visit. My husband joins with me 
 in this invitation." 
 
 " You are most kind, most sagacious," said 
 Eugene slowly ; " but it is impossible." 
 
 " Why is it impossible ? " 
 
92 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 44 What demand have I on you ? " he said 
 civilly, yet haughtily. 
 
 " Every one that is in trouble has a claim to 
 hospitality," said Mrs. Hardy warmly. "We 
 have to help each other in this world. We 
 could not go on if we did not." 
 
 44 And what is your imagination about my 
 trouble?" he asked. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy had offended the proud little 
 lad, but she did not stop to choose her next 
 words. " Your trouble is that you are old 
 before your time," she said hurriedly. 44 You 
 are just like a graybeard. Only the bitter in 
 life seems to be left for you. Come to me, 
 and let me make you a child again;" and she 
 seized one of his slim hands in hers. 
 
 To her distress, nay, her horror, the boy 
 drew back from her with a slight sneer. 
 44 Madam," he said icily, 44 my grandfather 
 often said to me, 4 Distrust women ; you may 
 have the happiness to amuse them for a time, 
 but later on they will throw you aside.' I 
 have not great age myself, but so far I think 
 he has reason." 
 
MBS. HARDY MAKES A CALL. 93 
 
 " And do you think that I only want to 
 amuse myself in taking care of you?" gasped 
 Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 " Why not ? " and Eugene elevated his 
 eyebrows. " It is either that, or you wish to 
 establish a claim on me, so that I may share 
 my fortune with you." 
 
 " Your fortune!" ejaculated Mrs. Hardy; 
 "you have none." 
 
 "You know that I expect one," said Eugene 
 in a condescending manner. 
 
 " Then, you don't think I came here to-day 
 just out of the kindness of my heart that 
 I am willing to take care of you, and treat 
 you just as if you were my own little boy, 
 simply from love." 
 
 Eugene shrugged his shoulders. "No; why 
 should you? I have no right to this." 
 
 " Oh, you naughty, naughty boy ! " said 
 Mrs. Hardy, pushing back her chair and an- 
 grily confronting him. " I never heard any 
 one talk like you in my life. I don't know 
 what your grandfather could have been think- 
 ing of to bring you up like this. You are 
 
94 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 not like the Boston bad boy at all ; you are 
 much worse. I wouldn't have you in my 
 house ; " and the little woman flung herself 
 out of the room. 
 
 Virtue Ann and Bridget could not detain 
 her. She fairly ran home ; and, throwing her- 
 self on a sofa, she mourned in silence and 
 alone until her husband came in for his sup- 
 per. Then she gave him an account of her 
 visit. 
 
 The sergeant laughed until he grew purple 
 in the face. " Bess," he said, " you want an 
 adopted mother yourself. You're not used to 
 managing children. You mustn't fly into a 
 temper so quickly." 
 
 " He was so aggravating," sobbed Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 " Of course ; but think of the way he's been 
 brought up. Why, he's just like a hunted 
 animal now. The weakest thing will turn at 
 the last. Have you ever seen a rat in a cor- 
 ner? He'll fix his teeth in the biggest stick 
 you can poke at him." 
 
 "Don't don't compare that prince of a boy 
 with a rat," said his wife dolefully. 
 
MRS. HARDY MAKES A CALL. 95 
 
 " There, now," pursued the sergeant, " you're 
 not mad with him. You won't let any one 
 abuse him but yourself. You still want him, 
 I see ; so he has got to come here and any- 
 way, law and order must be preserved. Even 
 th cats in the park understand that. What 
 do you think I found the king doing just 
 now ? " 
 
 " I don'.t know," sighed Mrs. Hardy in an 
 absent-minded way. 
 
 " Well, I came across Squirrel, King Boozy's 
 chum, sitting on a stump, badly mauled. He 
 was by turns polishing himself off with his 
 tongue, and watching the king, who was lick- 
 ing a strange cat. Another strange cat, that 
 had already been whipped, was running away, 
 and I figured the matter out this way. Squir- 
 rel had been attacked by the two strangers ; 
 and as soon as he could get away, he had 
 brought the king up, who was punishing them 
 thoroughly." 
 
 " I don't see what the cats have to do with 
 the boy," said Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 " They have a good deal. Don't you see 
 
96 THE KING OF THE PAEK. 
 
 that Boozy is an old head now ; he was dis- 
 ciplining the young strangers that had inter- 
 fered with Squirrel. Now, this French lad is 
 young a good bit younger than you and me. 
 Of course he's disagreeable. Who wouldn't 
 be, brought up as he has been? Parents and 
 guardians have to lick young ones into shape. 
 Now, you get the supper ready, and I'll have 
 the boy here in a jiffy, and you can punish 
 him any way that you like. I guess it will 
 be with kindness ; " and with a soothing pat 
 on her head her husband left her. 
 
EUGENE IS ARRESTED. 97 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 EUGENE IS ARRESTED. 
 
 BRIDGET had gone home. Virtue Ann was 
 putting on the table the bread and chocolate 
 that was to compose Eugene's frugal meal, 
 and the boy himself was sitting in a dull fash- 
 ion by the window in so deep a revery that 
 he did not hear the door-bell ring, and did 
 not see Sergeant Hardy come into the room. 
 
 He only started, and looked up when the 
 words, "At your service, sir," uttered in deep 
 voice, fell upon his ear. 
 
 At them he roused himself, and rose to his 
 feet ; but the sergeant neither bowed nor of- 
 fered to shake hands with him in a friendly 
 way as he usually did. His only greeting be- 
 sides the words that he had spoken was a mil- 
 itary salute. Then he stood stiffly against the 
 wall as if waiting for something. 
 
 "Will you sit down?" asked Eugene. 
 
98 THE XING OF THE PARK. 
 
 "Against orders," said the sergeant. "I've 
 come to arrest you/' 
 
 " To arrest me," repeated Eugene wonder- 
 ingly ; " what is it that I have done ? " 
 
 " Warrant for arrest on two charges," said 
 the sergeant. 
 
 "Will you mention them," asked Eugene 
 frigidly, and yet politely, for he had great re- 
 spect for any one in authority. 
 
 "First charge," said the sergeant abruptly, 
 "disdainful despicability of my wife's affec- 
 tions; second charge, murderous and malicious 
 designs against your own precious and pecu- 
 liar self." 
 
 Eugene did not know the meaning of des- 
 picability ; but he saw the mischievous glitter 
 in the sergeant's eye, and he suspected that 
 there was a joke somewhere. "Suppose I re- 
 fuse to go," he said with much calmness and 
 deliberation. 
 
 " I'd pick up your- little French figure, and 
 put it under my arm, and you'd be in jail in 
 no time," said the sergeant. 
 
 " So I am to go to prison," said Eugene. 
 
EUGENE IS ARRESTED. 99 
 
 " Yes, sir private jail, permitted through 
 the clemency of the law." 
 
 Eugene smiled a little wearily, then he eyed 
 the sergeant all over. He had penetration 
 enough to discover that the man had come 
 there with the determination of taking him 
 away, and he knew that lie might as well 
 yield first as last. 
 
 4i I surrender," he said grandly ; " may I ask 
 you, Mr. Officer, until when I am to be in 
 prison ? ' ' 
 
 " Six weeks," said the sergeant promptly. 
 
 " Will you show me the warrant for my 
 arrest?" said Eugene. 
 
 The sergeant hesitated, then he thrust his 
 hand into his pocket, and drew out a little 
 wet handkerchief. 
 
 " I found my wife crying when I went 
 home," he said. " She was offended and an- 
 noyed. I took this little muslin rag away from 
 her, and gave her my big ' mooshawr ' you call 
 it, don't you?" 
 
 "No," said Eugene; "it will be a lettre de 
 cachet in this case. Virtue Ann," he went on, 
 
100 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 addressing the maid who stood gaping at them 
 in the doorway, "will you put together in a 
 bag some things for me. It is necessary that 
 I accompany this gentleman to you did not 
 mention the name of the prison," and he 
 turned to the sergeant. 
 
 " To the Bastille," said the sergeant, grin- 
 ning delightedly at the opportunity of showing 
 a little knowledge of French history. 
 
 "To the Bastille," repeated Eugene. "So 
 be it. As a prisoner has no longer rights, will 
 you arrange for the furniture of these rooms 
 to be sold, and some money paid to my ser- 
 vant?" 
 
 tc Yes, sir," said the sergeant again saluting 
 him. 
 
 Eugene went to a desk in the corner of the 
 room, and took out some photographs and 
 private papers, also a miniature portrait of his 
 grandfather, which he put into a black bag 
 that Virtue Ann brought in and laid on the 
 table. 
 
 At last he announced himself ready; and 
 the sergeant, who had stood by the door during 
 
EUGENE IS ARRESTED. 101 
 
 the preparations made for departure, stepped 
 forward, and took the bag in his hand. 
 
 Virtue Ann began to fidget miserably with 
 her apron, while Eugene looked at her with 
 an unmoved face. 
 
 "I can't let you go, pretty little dear," she 
 said at last, standing in front of him, and af- 
 fectionately smoothing his shoulder with her 
 rough hand. 
 
 " I beg that you will compose yourself," 
 said Eugene coolly. 
 
 " Aren't you sorry to leave me ? " cried Vir- 
 tue Ann wildly. " You little cold, cold fish." 
 
 " Why should I be sorry ? " said Eugene, 
 holding back his head ; " you have been false 
 to me." 
 
 " False ! oh, dear, now just hear him," said 
 Virtue Ann. " Well, you've got to let me 
 kiss you anyway, you bad-hearted little 
 thing ; " and she stroked his black, glossy 
 head, and pressed her lips to his forehead in 
 a motherly way. 
 
 Eugene made a slight grimace, and drew 
 himself away from her, while the sergeant 
 
102 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 looked on with an amused smile, and mut- 
 tered, " I'd like to know what it is about 
 that child that makes the women crazy. It 
 must be out of sheer, clear contrariness, be- 
 cause he doesn't like them, or else it's his 
 fascinating manners. He isn't handsome 
 not a bit handsomer than I am ; come on, 
 young sir," and he began to march down- 
 stairs. 
 
 " Before we get in the street," he said, 
 pausing in the lobby, " give me your parole, 
 sir, that you won't try to escape." 
 
 Eugene hesitated to give it. 
 
 " You couldn't go far," said the sergeant, 
 " for I'd be sure to catch you." 
 
 "Very well," said the boy; "I yield to the 
 inevitable. I will not try to escape until a 
 letter comes from France." 
 
 " All right, inussoo," replied the sergeant ; 
 and he tramped on. 
 
 Eugene was hungry and tired and inwardly 
 disheartened, though he kept a calm exterior, 
 and he was well pleased to arrive in front of 
 the sergeant's house. 
 
EUGENE IS ARRESTED. 103 
 
 " I guess we'll excuse your attendance at 
 the public table of the jail this evening," said 
 the sergeant cheerfully. " Walk right along 
 this way to your cell, sir." 
 
 Eugene followed him down the hall to a 
 little bedroom at the back of the house. It 
 was furnished in pale colors, and a pretty 
 white bed stood in the middle of it. The 
 window was open, and a big bowl of flowers 
 was placed on a small table beside the bed. 
 
 " You're to have solitary imprisonment till 
 to-morrow morning," said the sergeant trying 
 to speak sternly. " Your jailer will bring 
 you some supper presently. She's a woman, 
 so you will treat her harmoniously." 
 
 Eugene, still holding his cap in his hand, 
 went and stood by one of the open windows. 
 He was not grateful to the sergeant for in- 
 troducing him to so charming a prison. He 
 was filled with a blind, wild anger at the 
 fate, as he called it, that had laid him under 
 an obligation to these strangers whom he re- 
 garded as below himself in the social scale ; 
 and he was all the more angry because, child 
 
104 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 though he was, he had the acuteness to re- 
 flect that in the natural course of things his 
 dissatisfaction would pass away. The more 
 he thought about it the more angry he be- 
 came ; and yet so great control was he able 
 to exert over his feelings when he was dis- 
 posed to do so, that hardly a trace of his in- 
 ward disquiet and rebellion appeared on his 
 impassive face. 
 
 " Good-night, prisoner," said the sergeant 
 abruptly. "I'm going now. Pleasant dreams 
 to you." 
 
 " Good-night, jailer," said Eugene in a re- 
 pressed voice ; " some day I will thank you, 
 but not yet." 
 
 The sergeant shrugged his broad shoulders 
 and walked out to the dining-room. 
 
 "Bess," he said, laughing softly to himself, 
 as he watched his wife flying around the room 
 a pink spot on each cheek, "I've trapped your 
 fine foreign bird for you. Tame him now if 
 you can." 
 
 "I'll tame him," said Mrs. Hardy, tossing 
 her fluffy white head ; and she went on with 
 
EUGENE IS ARRESTED. 105 
 
 her occupation of loading a tray with dainties 
 for the young prisoner. 
 
 " He'll see his grandfather to-night sure, and 
 all his ancestors," said the sergeant grum- 
 blingly, as his eyes wandered over the tray, 
 44 if he eats all that. What are you thinking 
 of, Bess, rich plum-pudding and candy for 
 a child this time of day." 
 
 "I thought perhaps he would like to look 
 at them," said Mrs. Hardy ; " and there are 
 plenty of substantial things. See this corn 
 bread and chicken, and these vegetables." 
 
 " But he mayn't pick them out." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he will ! he is a sensible boy at 
 heart," said Mrs. Hardy ; and she fairly ran 
 from the room and down the hall with the tray. 
 
 Eugene opened the door when she called to 
 him, and at the sight of his pallid face she 
 almost dropped the tray. 
 
 In silence he cleared the table for her to 
 rest it on. In silence she put it down and 
 gazed at him. At last she said nervously, " I 
 thought you'd rather have your supper in here 
 alone than to come to the table with us." 
 
106 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Thank you for your benevolence," he said, 
 inclining his head. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy twisted her face like a child 
 about to cry. " Let me help you unpack your 
 bag," she said hastily. " The supper things 
 won't get cold for a few minutes." 
 
 Eugene opened the bag, and she shook out 
 the clothes as carefully as if they had belonged 
 to a child of her own. Then she showed him 
 some hooks behind a curtain where he could 
 hang them. "And there is the bath-room," 
 she went on, opening the hall door. " Perhaps 
 you will like to take a warm bath by and by. 
 I will put some fresh towels in for you. Now 
 I shall leave you alone, and not bother you 
 until the morning. Good-night;" and she 
 looked at him wistfully. 
 
 Eugene opened the door for her, and stood 
 in polite weariness beside it. Then one by 
 one big tears began to roll down his cheeks. 
 He did not know why they came there, and 
 he made no effort to brush them away. 
 
 "Do you remember your mother?" asked 
 Mrs. Hardy softly. 
 
EUGENE IS ARRESTED. 107 
 
 " No, madam ; she died when I was an in- 
 fant." 
 
 " And have you never had a woman to love 
 you and call you her child, and tuck you in 
 your little bed at night ? " asked Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 "I have always had a bonne, a nurse," said 
 Eugene " many of them ; but my grandfather 
 is the only mother I have had." 
 
 " And is there no one in the world that 
 you love now no one that you cling to ? " 
 
 " I have the memory of my grandfather and 
 of his Majesty the emperor." 
 
 " You're th.e queerest little boy I ever saw. 
 You are something like the Chinese. They 
 worship their ancestors." 
 
 " Possibly," said Eugene with a doubtful 
 glance, as if he questioned the truth of her 
 statement. 
 
 " And you really don't care for any one," 
 said Mrs. Hardy. " You must excuse my cu- 
 riosity ; but I never saw man, woman, or child 
 like you." 
 
 " I must care for myself," said Eugene sol- 
 emnly. 
 
108 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " I know Avhat is the matter with you," 
 said Mrs. Hardy triumphantly. " It's just the 
 trouble your great emperor suffered from. He 
 hadn't much faith in human nature, and he 
 despised women." 
 
 " The great emperor was but a man," said 
 Eugene stiffly. 
 
 "He was concentrated selfishness," said Mrs. 
 Hardy. " I am selfish, my husband is, every- 
 body is ; but Napoleon was worse than we are. 
 But why do you cry?" for the tears were 
 still rolling down Eugene's cheeks in a slow 
 and sober procession. 
 
 He dabbed at his face with his handkerchief. 
 " I will tell you," he said earnestly. " Since 
 you have been speaking, I have been looking 
 out that window toward the park where your 
 homeless cats live. I did not comprehend 
 about them the other day; now my soul en- 
 ters the cats' bodies, as we might say, and I 
 feel the dismay that must fill them when they 
 have lost their homes and their protectors. It 
 is horrible. One becomes filled with anguish 
 and bewilderment. Where shall one turn ? " 
 
EUGENE IS ARRESTED. 109 
 
 "Do you know what that feeling is that 
 makes you, as you suppose, cry for the cats ? " 
 asked Mrs. Hardy with great gentleness. 
 
 While Eugene paused to frame a reply, she 
 went on, " It is sympathy. You are beginning 
 to understand, and you are on the high road 
 that leads away from selfishness. Usually we 
 begin with the human family and descend to 
 the animals. You are going backward. Your 
 pity for the cats makes you see in them some- 
 thing more than mere hairy creatures crawl- 
 ing over the ground, as you styled them the 
 other day." 
 
 " I see in them suffering beings," said Eu- 
 gene intensely. "Their situation is like mine." 
 He stopped abruptly, and leaned his head on 
 the arm that he had stretched out against the 
 wall. 
 
 " When my husband was a lad he disliked 
 animals and was cruel to them," said Mrs. 
 Hardy. " Then he had a serious illness. Two 
 kittens that his mother owned used to sit on 
 his bed, and watch him affectionately. He 
 got to love them ; and now he has the kindest 
 
110 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 heart for dumb animals, and also for men and 
 women, of any man I know. Now I will 
 leave you, for you are tired. Good-night, dear 
 boy. God bless you ; " and she went quietly 
 away, and left him alone as she knew he 
 wished to be. 
 
THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAB. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAR AND OTHER 
 THINGS. 
 
 THE next morning Eugene was ill. He was 
 not a very strong boy, and he had had more 
 excitement and mental anxiety during the last 
 few days than his slender frame and sensitive 
 soul could withstand. 
 
 For some days he was obliged to keep his 
 bed, where he was faithfully waited on by the 
 keepers of his pretty prison. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy was the chief jailer; and although 
 he uttered only polite conventional expressions 
 of gratitude that she knew did not come from 
 his heart, she felt sure that she would in time 
 win her way into his stubborn affections. 
 
 "The great thing is to keep my temper 
 with him," she said to her husband one day ; 
 " he is so provoking sometimes, without mean- 
 ing to be so." 
 
112 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " All boys are," said the sergeant consol- 
 ingly, " and most men and women too, for 
 that matter. Nobody can keep their temper 
 all the time. According to my doctrine, you 
 lose it just as seldom as you can ; and when 
 you do, don't kick up a fuss about it; but 
 just do some little thing that lets people 
 know you're sorry, and then take a fresh 
 sheet and start over again." 
 
 " When I speak sharply to him, I think it 
 my duty to apologize," said Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 " Now, Bess, none of that," said her hus- 
 band, "if you don't want to get priggish. I 
 know you. You're quick and sensitive, and 
 you think you've got to say ' forgive me ' 
 every time you look the wrong way. That 
 boy will despise you if you keep running to 
 him with apologies. I used to know a fellow 
 out West, Wash-house Billy we called him, 
 because he was forever scrubbing himself 
 well, that chap was so self-righteous that 
 every time he played a mean trick on any 
 one, he'd go trotting after him with a c for- 
 give me ' dropping from his lips. He got 
 
THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAR. 113 
 
 knocked down one time for apologizing to a 
 half-breed that wasn't used to it. Then he 
 had to explain ; and the half-breed swore at 
 him, and said he didn't want any of his half- 
 cooked words. If he was sorry, let him act 
 it. Deeds, not words, were what he wanted. 
 The rest of us were very glad; for Wash- 
 house Billy had got into the bad habit of 
 treating us all as mean as pickpockets, be- 
 cause he was always ready to jump from his 
 low trick to his high one, and we were so 
 dumfounded by his prig religion that we 
 hadn't the spirit to knock him down as the 
 half-breed did. If the boy provokes you, he 
 deserves a snub." 
 
 "He isn't provoking," said Mrs. Hardy 
 warmly, "except occasionally. He's the sweet- 
 est boy, Stephen, and he is going to make a 
 fine man I am sure ; and he asks the quaint- 
 est questions while he lies in bed with his big 
 black e}^es following me round the room." 
 
 " Is he getting up to-day ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he will be out in a few minutes." 
 
 The sergeant went on with his. dinner, and 
 
114 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 did not look up until Eugene came into the 
 room. " How are you ? " he said. " I haven't 
 seen you before to-day. Don't you want to 
 put on your cap, and come to the park with 
 me?" 
 
 "I will go with pleasure," replied Eugene. 
 Before he could get to the hall, Mrs. Hardy 
 had run there, and had brought his cap, 
 which she dropped lightly on his head. 
 
 Eugene lifted it off; then, as if to apologize 
 to her for not donning it until he reached 
 the door, he bent over her hand, and lifting 
 it to his lips, kissed it without speaking. 
 
 It was the first caress he had given her, 
 and her face flushed with pleasure as she stood 
 looking after him. " He has such pretty for- 
 eign ways," she murmured. " I wish he 
 would love me." 
 
 "It is agreeable to be able to walk out 
 once more," said Eugene, drawing a long 
 breath, as he sauntered slowly along by the 
 side of the sergeant. 
 
 The man looked down at him in a kindly 
 fashion. "You'll be all right now," he said, 
 
THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAR. 115 
 
 "and you must spend a lot of time outside. 
 Why, here's the king coming to meet us; we 
 must be late to-day." 
 
 The cat turned, and walked by the side of 
 the sergeant, occasionally sniffing at the paper 
 parcels he carried in his hand. 
 
 "Will you have the kindness to stop for a 
 minute ? " asked Eugene suddenly. 
 
 "What's the matter?" said the sergeant. 
 
 The boy pointed to the bust of John Boyle 
 O'Reilly that they were approaching. " Some 
 one has put fresh flowers there," he said ex- 
 citedly. " I have been ill and detained from 
 doing it. Who is it ? " 
 
 " My wife and your jailer. She knows about 
 your liking for the emperor and O'Reilly, and 
 she comes here with a bouquet every morning 
 before you're up." 
 
 " Does she do this to please me ? " 
 
 " For no other reason that I know of." 
 
 Eugene was silent for a short time as if he 
 were working out some problem. Then he 
 said earnestly, " Have you ever found her 
 deceitful?" 
 
116 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Not as yet," said the sergeant cheerfully. 
 "Of course we never know how folks may 
 turn out." 
 
 "No; one never does," said Eugene with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " Generally speaking, we turn out as we be- 
 gin," said the man. " There's a fine opening 
 for a sermon, my boy, only I'm not good at 
 preaching. You'll have to draw your own 
 conclusions." 
 
 Eugene gave him a long and scrutinizing 
 look ; then he said, with a compassionate glance 
 at King Boozy who was mewing coaxingly 
 about the bags, "Suppose we proceed." 
 
 " All right, my boy ; " and the sergeant walked 
 nimbly on until they reached the cats' dining- 
 room under the shrubbery, where he spread 
 on the ground a sheet of brown paper, and 
 emptied on it a medley of chicken and beef 
 bones. Then drawing a tin can from among 
 the leaves, he filled it with milk from a bottle 
 in his pocket. 
 
 King Boozy mewed to his chum Squirrel; 
 and the two cats crouched down beside their 
 
THE Two CATS CROUCHED ISKSIDI: THEIR FESTAL BOARD. 
 
THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAR. 117 
 
 festal board, and daintily proceeded to eat up 
 everything. 
 
 "Do you do this every day?" asked Eugene. 
 
 " Every day as regular as the sun." 
 
 " It is a thoughtf ulness on the part of the 
 city to provide for homeless beasts." 
 
 " The city ! bless you, my boy, the city 
 doesn't do it." 
 
 " Do you supply this food yourself ? " asked 
 Eugene in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, young sir ; why not ? " 
 
 "For cats, for vermin, or what I was for- 
 merly accustomed to call vermin?" continued 
 the boy in polite astonishment. 
 
 " Vermin must live," said the sergeant. 
 " Brute vermin protect the human vermin. If 
 I had time I'd tell you some of the uses of 
 cats ; but I haven't, and I guess you'd get 
 bored if I had. Let us go down to the lower 
 cat-house. I have some more food in this other 
 bag." 
 
 "Unless you are a rich man," said Eugene 
 as they entered a shady path, " I think that 
 the city should feed the cats that serve it." 
 
118 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " The city might if it was asked," said the 
 sergeant good-naturedly; " but I'd like to see 
 myself sending in a requisition for cats' meat. 
 It only costs a few dollars a week to feed 
 them." 
 
 Eugene murmured an almost indistinct re- 
 ply, and fell into a brown study that lasted 
 until they reached the second colony of cats. 
 
 "You musn't walk any farther," said the 
 sergeant, after he had scattered the second 
 supply of food on the ground, and the cats 
 had come scampering and cuffing each other 
 aside to reach it. " Come into the office and 
 rest. I have to wait here a while." 
 
 Eugene went with him into a little wooden 
 building, and sat down by the window where 
 he could watch the animals outside. "Their 
 coats are very thick," he said musingly, " or 
 is it that they are sticking out their hairs ? " 
 
 " No ; their coats are really heavy. They 
 get that way after they have lived out-doors 
 for some time." 
 
 " Have these animals all been cast out by 
 some one ? " 
 
THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAE. 119 
 
 "Every man Jack of them," said the ser- 
 geant; "cast out, or frightened out, or scolded 
 out, or kicked out. They come mewing and 
 cringing to this park, most of them scared 
 out of their lives, only here and there a bold 
 one." 
 
 " Unfortunates," said Eugene bitterly, " it 
 would be better for them to die." 
 
 " They think it more fun to live and have 
 a good time. They don't mind dependence. 
 Bless you, we've all got to be looked after. 
 Where would I be if I hadn't my wife to 
 take care of me? what would she do without 
 me?" 
 
 " Have no thought for her," said Eugene 
 magnificently. " If misfortune befalls you, I 
 shall take her under my protection." 
 
 The sergeant stared hard at the cats, and 
 tried not to smile. 
 
 " After my fortune comes from France, I 
 shall remember you," said Eugene. 
 
 " Thank you," replied the sergeant de- 
 murely. "May I ask you whether you intend 
 remaining in this country ? " 
 
120 THE KING OF THE PARE. 
 
 " Yes ; I shall not live under that villan- 
 ous republic. My grand-uncle will send me 
 not the whole, he is too avaricious for that, 
 but a part of the fortune that rightfully be- 
 longs to me. I shall go to a military school, 
 of which I am assured there are good ones 
 in this country; then, when I become a man, 
 the republic of France will probably be no 
 more. We shall have our empire, and I 
 shall return, and take service under the Bona- 
 partes." 
 
 "You are quite sure that your grand-uncle 
 will send you some money ? " 
 
 At this remark Eugene turned such a startled 
 face toward his companion that the latter, 
 finding that he had surprised the boy out of 
 his usual composure, made haste to change 
 the subject of conversation. 
 
 " So you want to be a soldier," he said. 
 
 " Yes ; it is the only profession for a gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 "Napoleon made a pretty big thing of war," 
 said the sergeant. 
 
 " Oh ! an enormous thing. I should like to 
 
THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAR. 121 
 
 be a second Napoleon ; " and Eugene's eyes 
 sparkled. 
 
 "I don't take much stock in war," said 
 the sergeant. 
 
 " Do you mean that you would not fight?" 
 
 " No ; I mean I don't like it." 
 
 " You do not how very extraordinary. 
 How does it happen ? " 
 
 " Because I've been in it." 
 
 "You have seen active service, have been 
 in engagements," exclaimed Eugene. " Oh ! 
 why did you not tell me ? " 
 
 "It never occurred to me," said the ser- 
 geant; "and unlike most men I'm not fond 
 of talking of it." 
 
 "Your rank," said Eugene feverishly, "and 
 the country you fought in, will you not tell 
 me?" 
 
 " Rank, drummer-boy ; country, my own na- 
 tive land and its last war ; enemies, brother- 
 men. Boy, I don't like war." 
 
 "Why not, oh, why not?" 
 
 "I'll tell you presently. You tell me first 
 what your idea of war is." 
 
122 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " We have a picture of my great-grandfather 
 in white huzzar uniform," said Eugene enthu- 
 siastically. "He is magnificent. In the hall 
 of our chateau in France hangs also a painting 
 of my great-great-grandfather, mounted on his 
 charger Austerlitz. He waves his arm in the 
 air; he encourages his men. They are about 
 to charge the enemy. He reminds them that 
 they fight for their country, their emperor 
 oh ! it makes one's blood stir to look at it." 
 
 " That's mostly the picture outsiders draw," 
 said the sergeant mildly. " They always fancy 
 handsome officers, stainless uniforms, a lot of 
 enemies waiting somewhere to be cut down 
 like sheep. It's all glory and paint and a lot 
 of big figures in histories and newspapers. 
 But there's another side to it after you've 
 been in a battle. In the first place, I should 
 say war is a dirty thing." 
 
 " A dirty thing," said Eugene wonderingly. 
 44 What is that for an epithet?" 
 
 " It's a suitable one," replied the sergeant 
 coolly. " In the first place, war is dirty ; in the 
 second, it's low ; and in the third, it's needless." 
 
THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAR. 123 
 
 " I do not understand you ; " and Eugene 
 made a gesture expressive of slight contempt. 
 
 " Look here," said the sergeant, dragging 
 his chair up to the table, and bringing a lead- 
 pencil from a drawer. " Here on this side of 
 the table imagine gray men, imagine blue 
 there. They haven't one earthly tiling against 
 each other, but they've got to rend and tear 
 each other's mortal bodies to preserve the 
 independence of the Union. The subject of 
 their dispute is a grand one, a glorious one ; 
 and if there wasn't any other way to settle it 
 they'd have to whack each other, and beat the 
 life out of each other's bodies, but there is 
 another way." 
 
 " Wars must take place," said Eugene firmly. 
 " My grandfather asserts it." 
 
 " Your grandfather is that is, you are mis- 
 taken. Wars don't need to take place. In 
 the late one in this country, when we were all 
 seething hotheads, why didn't we apply to 
 foreign countries to settle our dispute?" 
 
 " Arbitration ah ! that is not for gentle- 
 men," said the boy proudly. 
 
124 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 The sergeant smiled. " Lad," he said, " you're 
 just like all the rest of growing things. You 
 have got to learn for yourself. You won't 
 take a leaf out of any other body's book. Do 
 you believe me when I say that if you were 
 to enlist to-day, and go on the field to-morrow, 
 that your little body would quiver and shake, 
 and you'd want to turn tail and run, like 
 one of those cats, when you heard the big 
 guns?" 
 
 " I would never run."^ 
 
 " Possibly you might not," said the sergeant 
 amiably. "I'm not going to say that all men 
 do, though I believe most men want to. Well, 
 we'll say you've got through the first engage- 
 ment, and have a nice undangerous wound in 
 the fleshy part of your leg. You'd admire 
 the battlefield, wouldn't you, and the agony of 
 men and horses heaped up, and you'd go to 
 the hospital and see the wounded, and smell 
 the sickening smells, and enjoy yourself?" 
 
 " A soldier must look on blood." 
 
 " Yes, he must tears and blood. Why, 
 lad, if all the women that lost husbands and 
 
THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAR. 125 
 
 fathers and lovers could hover over a battle- 
 field, there would be a good sharp shower like 
 rain on it." 
 
 ^ It is necessary for women to cry," re- 
 marked Eugene. 
 
 " Yes ; that's true. I guess men would be 
 a little better to shed tears now and again. 
 Well, lad, I hope no woman will ever have to 
 cry because your body has been made a target 
 of. I hope, too, that you'll never be stood up 
 and have an awful moment when you wonder 
 what in the name of common-sense you have 
 done, or your ancestors have done, that you 
 shouldn't be allowed to live out this life, which 
 is tricky anyway, but should be set up for a 
 plaything, not for butchers, but for decent 
 human beings, that haven't the faintest bit of 
 spite against you. But good gracious, I'm 
 preaching a sermon, which is always against 
 my principles." 
 
 " I like to talk of war," said Eugene ; " it 
 makes me feel warm. You have of course read 
 of Napoleon and his glorious campaigns ? " 
 
 The sergeant nodded. Eugene had turned 
 
126 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 his back to the window, and sat confronting 
 him with flaming cheeks. He had forgotten 
 the very existence of the cats. 
 
 "He was the greatest soldier the world has 
 ever seen," pursued the lad. 
 
 " Well, granted he was," said the sergeant, 
 "what did he get out of it?" 
 
 " Glory, honor, victory, and reputation for 
 France." 
 
 " And a lonely prison without a razor to 
 shave his upper lip, according to you," said the 
 sergeant, " though I think you are rather hard 
 on England in that." 
 
 " At the last, yes," said Eugene ; " but his 
 career up to that was magnificent." 
 
 " I don't see the magnificence of it," said the 
 sergeant. " He set all Europe by the ears ; he 
 stirred up the kings and emperors ; he turned 
 things topsy-turvy, and in the end left France 
 no better than he found her. His ambition 
 was too big for his little body. He should have 
 stopped half way in his course." 
 
 " You do not understand," said Eugene im- 
 patiently. 
 
THE SERGEANT TALKS OF WAE. 127 
 
 "And he strewed dead Frenchmen all over 
 Europe," said the sergeant, "and not one-half 
 of them knew what they were fighting about. 
 What do you think of the retreat from Mos- 
 cow, my boy ? " 
 
 "A splendid failure. But the emperor did 
 not know all things. How could he tell what 
 was going to be ? " 
 
 "I'll corne back to my starting-point," said 
 the sergeant. " I believe we're put on this 
 earth cats and dogs and beasts and men 
 to be happy. Any one or anything that lifts 
 his hand against his brother throws the whole 
 world out of tune. A man that kills anybody 
 or any creature without cause is a murderer 
 I don't care who he is that does it ; and that's 
 the sum of the whole thing, according to me, 
 and I'm not going to say another word. You 
 run home like a good lad, or the wife will be 
 getting worried about you. We'll talk of these 
 things another time." 
 
128 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE KING TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 ON a yellow, dreamy day of late autumn, 
 while the sergeant was strolling through the 
 Fens, he came suddenly upon little Virgie 
 Manning and her nurse. 
 
 "Hello, little miss!" said the sergeant. "1 
 haven't seen you for a long time; but where 
 did you get those flowers? They look like 
 some of the park golden-rod." 
 
 " Yes," said Virgie in her half-lisping voice ; 
 " they are your flowers, Mr. Policeman." 
 
 " But you musn't pick the park flowers," 
 said the sergeant. 
 
 " And sure I told her that myself," said 
 Bridget. " Now, missy, you see what hap- 
 pens to naughty girls. Are you going to 
 take her to prison, Mr. Officer ? " 
 
 Virgie laughed gleefully. She was not at 
 all afraid of the sergeant. 
 
THE KING TO THE RESCUE. 129 
 
 "No, not this time," he said. 
 
 " Mr. Policeman," said Virgie, " one time 
 long ago weren't you a weeny boy?" 
 
 "Yes, I was." 
 
 "Did you love the pretty flowerses?" 
 
 "Yes, I did." 
 
 "And you picked them," said Virgie, "and 
 naughty big men scolded you ? " 
 
 " No, they didn't ; I lived in the country." 
 
 " Then, you mustn't scold me," said Virgie 
 gayly. " O Bridget ! there is a big, big fly 
 with blue wingses. You stand still like a 
 mousie while I catch it, 'cause if you runned 
 you might starkle it ; " and she darted away. 
 
 " And is the French boy still making his 
 home with you, sir ? " asked Bridget curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Yes ; he is still with us." 
 
 " And he doesn't hear from his bad old 
 uncle in France, Virtue Ann tells me." 
 
 " No ; he hasn't as yet," said the sergeant. 
 
 " And it's a great comfort to Virtue Ann 
 that you've shielded him," continued Brid- 
 get, "otherwise she'd have cold comfort in the 
 
130 THE KING OF THE PAliK. 
 
 good place she's found for herself. 4 Virtue 
 Ann,' said I, ' if you despise your luck this 
 time, you'll be guilty of the sin of onpru- 
 dency. Make seven crosses, and let the boy 
 go, and you'll find you're in the right of it.'" 
 
 " The boy is always glad to see her," said 
 the sergeant absently. " Hello, Boozy, what's 
 the matter?" 
 
 "And sure that's a queer cat," said Brid- 
 get, eying the black-and-white animal who was 
 mewing excitedly, and walking up and down 
 at a little distance from them. 
 
 " He wants to show me something, and 
 badly too," said the sergeant, "or he wouldn't 
 come so near a woman. Go on, Boozy, I'll 
 follow." 
 
 At this moment little Virgie came running 
 up crying, " The naughty fly flewed away. 
 He wouldn't play wif me. Oh ! there's the 
 sweet pussy ; " and she precipitated herself 
 toward Boozy. 
 
 The king was in great distress. He sprang 
 nimbly from side to side, waving his tail 
 angrily in the air as he tried to elude the 
 
THE KING TO THE RESCUE. 131 
 
 little girl's caresses, and at the same time 
 keep the attention of the sergeant fixed on 
 himself. 
 
 "I understand you, Boozy," said the ser- 
 geant. "Walk on, and I'll come. Look here, 
 little girl, you stop chasing him, will you, 
 and take my hand? We'll see what he's 
 leading us to." 
 
 " Perhaps he has some little kittens to show 
 us," suggested Virgie. 
 
 "No; the king isn't fond of kittens. Prob- 
 ably it's a mole or_a mouse he's caught, or 
 perhaps his chum is in trouble. One day he 
 was caught in a wire fence, and Boozy came 
 for me to set him free. Can you trot along 
 a little faster, he seems to be in a hurry ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the child, hopping and skipping 
 along by his side, her blue eyes wandering to 
 and fro across the broad avenue. "Where's 
 Eugene?" she asked suddenly, "Virgie hasn't 
 seen him for lots and lots of time." 
 
 " He's in the park somewhere," said the 
 sergeant. " He spends a great deal of time 
 here. He has taken a great fancy to Boozy, 
 
132 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 and sits for hours watching him. I guess the 
 cat teaches him a good many lessons." 
 
 44 The king is a good pussy," remarked 
 Virgie sagely. 
 
 " He is not perfect, but he is about as good 
 as a cat can be," said her companion. 
 
 Virgie stopped to pick up some shining peb- 
 bles from the ground, but the sergeant hurried 
 her on. " Make haste, little girl, if you want 
 to come with me. There's something queer 
 about the king's actions. See how he is run- 
 ning." 
 
 Virgie trotted along beside him again, and 
 her nurse quickened her footsteps so that she 
 might keep up with the two figures ahead of 
 her. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " exclaimed the sergeant, 
 suddenly dropping the child's hand, and scram- 
 bling down a slope beside them ; "just look at 
 that boy." 
 
 "The boy! and sure there's no boy to be 
 seen," said Bridget, who had heard his exclama- 
 tion, and paused in surprise at the top of the 
 little hill, and looked about her. 
 
THE KING TO THE RESCUE. 133 
 
 Just below them was a marshy, sedgy pond. 
 A few ducks were dabbling in the mud at one 
 end of it, and at the other end something brown 
 and indistinct was moving in a slow and con- 
 fused way among the rushes. 
 
 " I guess it's Eugene," cried little Virgie, 
 tearfully clasping her tiny hands. " I guess 
 he runned and frowed hisself in the water." 
 
 "Hush, lovie," said her nurse, putting her 
 arm around her. " There isn't much water 
 here, it's mostly mud, nor any boy for that 
 matter. Watch and see what the quare thing 
 is." 
 
 The indistinct figure kept going to and fro, 
 slightly disturbing the rushes, while the ser- 
 geant rushed back and forth over the encircling 
 firm ground as if looking for something. 
 
 "And sure he's crazy," muttered Bridget. 
 Then she tried to hush Virgie, who was crying 
 apprehensively. 
 
 "Do you see a rope anywhere up there?" 
 shouted the sergeant. " I had one here this 
 morning. Some rascal must have taken it." 
 
 Bridget ran about a little among the under- 
 
134 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 brush. "No, sir," she called back; "there's 
 not a shadow of a rope nor a bit of a plank 
 here." 
 
 " Then, I'll have to go in myself," said the 
 sergeant in a disgusted voice. "Eugene, can't 
 you walk out? Come this way. You can see 
 me, can't you ? " 
 
 " Oh, the blessed saints presarve us ! " cried 
 Bridget, " that quare round thing is the head 
 of the boy ; and it's mud he is and there's an 
 arm sticking out and now he's almost gone." 
 
 Little Virgie gave a shriek. Eugene was in- 
 deed sinking more deeply into the marsh that 
 would soon close its lips over him if he should 
 fall down. The sergeant made one brief ex- 
 clamation, and snatching off his coat and his 
 helmet threw them on the ground. Then he 
 waded in to the spot where Eugene had been 
 staggering about, and stretching out an arm he 
 drew him out toward the dry ground. 
 
 " May I be forgiven for laughing," said 
 Bridget, clutching Virgie by the hand, and 
 hurrying down the grassy bank, " but I nivver 
 saw such a soight in my life and sure the 
 
Kr<iKXE WAS SINKING MORE DKEI'LV INTO THK MAUSH. 
 
THE KING TO THE RESCUE. 135 
 
 boy is brown from the top of his head to the 
 sole of his foot. Mr. Officer, he hasn't fainted, 
 has he?" 
 
 " He's half choked with the mud and the 
 slime," said the sergeant dryly. " Lend me 
 your handkerchief, will you ? " 
 
 He was bending over Eugene, whom he had 
 laid on the ground. Rapidly and skilfully he 
 wiped the boy's face, and cleaned his head 
 with leaves from a shrub near by. 
 
 " Take, please take my little hankershniff," 
 gasped Virgie, extending a microscopic bit of 
 cambric. 
 
 To please her the sergeant wiped Eugene's 
 eyes with it; then he said, "Can you speak 
 now, boy ? " 
 
 Eugene struggled to a sitting posture, and 
 stared solemnly from under sticky eyelashes 
 at them. 
 
 Bridget tried not to laugh ; but she was not 
 used to controlling herself, and she had also 
 been a little frightened. She began with a 
 little squeal, then she became hysterical, and 
 laughed and cried in the same breath. 
 
136 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 "If ye's could only see yourselves," she 
 said spasmodically; "so gummed up, like 
 two alligators. I ask yer pardon humbly, but 
 it's too ludicrous that ye are and that boy 
 that's always like a picture, so nate and clane, 
 and yerself, Mr. Officer, that wears the fine 
 uniform sure, you're worse than the men in 
 the subway with the clay trousers." 
 
 The sergeant smiled grimly. "I don't won- 
 der you'ie amused," he said. " Tell me, Eu- 
 gene, how you got into this pickle." 
 
 The boy cleaned two of his fingers on the 
 grass, and took a last remnant of earth from 
 his mouth. " It was my cap that I was after," 
 he said. " The wind blew it among the rushes. 
 I went to get it on what I thought was a 
 point of green grass. It was soft mud be- 
 neath. I went in to my ankles, and I could 
 with difficulty draw my feet out. Then I 
 walked the wrong way, and fell into a deep 
 hole. When I rose, I found myself in to my 
 waist, and bewildered and sinking." 
 
 " Why did you not stand still and call for 
 help?" asked the sergeant. "There are al- 
 ways people about." 
 
THE KING TO THE RESCUE. 137 
 
 " I should have felt like a coward," said 
 Eugene, proudly holding up his mud-plastered 
 head. 
 
 "I don't think it would have been as cow- 
 ardly to call for assistance as to drop down 
 there and smother to death," said the sergeant. 
 
 " I thought of the emperor," said Eugene. 
 " ' Why do you duck your head ? ' he once 
 asked a soldier who bent to avoid a round 
 shot. 4 If your fate is not there you might 
 as well stand up straight. If it is there, it 
 will find you though you bury yourself one 
 hundred feet in the earth.' " 
 
 "All very fine," said the sergeant; "but at 
 the same time, Napoleon wasn't the man to 
 stick in a mud-hole while he had a good 
 voice in his body that would help him out. 
 Come, boy, we had better make our way home 
 if you feel up to it, and get rid of these clothes 
 before the mud dries on us." 
 
 " And it's home we'll have to be going too," 
 said Bridget in a disapproving voice. She 
 had not been able to keep her warm-hearted 
 little charge from embracing her muddy play- 
 
138 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 mate, and Virgie's red cloak was in conse- 
 quence disfigured by a number of dark streaks. 
 
 " I wish to hug the good pussy," said Vir- 
 gie, drawing back as she caught sight of King 
 Boozy, who sat on the bridge above, watching 
 them. 
 
 The sergeant laughed. " Boozy hates dirt 
 and disorder. He did his share of the work, 
 then retired to watch us. Was he with you, 
 boy, when your cap blew off ? " 
 
 " Yes." said Eugene ; " he was following 
 me as I walked to and fro on the path." 
 
 "And when he saw you were stuck, he 
 came for me," said the sergeant. " He is the 
 most knowing cat I ever saw. Hello, here's 
 a cart coming just in good time to give us a 
 lift. You look fagged out, Eugene. Give me 
 your hand ; now jump in." 
 
 "Good-by, dear Eugene," called Virgie. 
 " If you don't play in the naughty mud any 
 more, Virgie won't frow stones at your rem- 
 peror;" and she threw kisses to him until he 
 was out of sight. 
 
 "The missis will be astonished to see us," 
 
THE KING TO THE RESCUE. 189 
 
 said the sergeant, as they jogged along in 
 the cart," but she'll have us cleaned up in 
 no time. Boy," and he looked slyly at 
 Eugene, "you didn't like cats much when 
 you came to us. Would you mind telling 
 me your private opinion of them now?" 
 
 A smile flitted over Eugene's weary, dirty 
 face. " A human being could have done no 
 more for me this morning than the king did," 
 he said simply. 
 
140 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MONSIEUR LE CUKE ARRIVES. 
 
 THE sergeant usually spent his evenings 
 at home. All day long he was on his feet, 
 and it was a pleasure to him when he came 
 in at night to settle himself in a comfortable 
 armchair, after he had his supper, and devote 
 himself to some interesting book until bedtime. 
 
 He often read aloud to his wife, who sat 
 and sewed beside him ; and one evening, after 
 he had been reading for some time, he laid 
 his book face downward on the small table 
 before him, and said, " Where is the boy ? " 
 
 Mrs. Hardy dropped her work, and moved 
 aside the lamp that partly hid her husband's 
 face from her. " He is in his room," she 
 said. 
 
 44 He usually listens to me," said the ser- 
 geant ; 44 he isn't moping, is he, or offended 
 at anything ? " 
 
MONSIEUR LE CUKE ARRIVES. 141 
 
 "Oh, no! he never does that now," laughed 
 Mrs. Hardy. " He is as cheerful as possible. 
 
 44 Queer, isn't it," said the sergeant, "how 
 any one gets used to anything? Does he ever 
 speak to you about hearing from France ? " 
 
 "Not now; he used to when he first came. 
 He thinks of it, though." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I can tell. I understand him so well." 
 
 " How long is it since he came here ? " 
 
 "Five weeks last Wednesday." 
 
 " It doesn't seem as long as that," said the 
 sergeant thoughtfully. 
 
 " The time passes more quickly with a 
 child in the house," observed his wife. 
 
 "I believe it does. I'm not sorry we took 
 him, Bess." 
 
 " I know you are not, Stephen. I would 
 send him away if I thought you were." 
 
 Her husband sent her an affectionate glance, 
 but made no remark for some time. Then he 
 said, " What are you doing ? " 
 
 "Darning a pillow-case; it is getting old." 
 
 "Why don't you buy some new ones?" 
 
142 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " I must economize now," she said. " It 
 takes more to keep us since the boy came." 
 
 " But you will have plenty by and by." 
 
 "We haven't it yet, Stephen. One can't 
 count on the future." 
 
 " I believe it is a pleasure to you," he said 
 under his breath. 
 
 His wife caught the word pleasure, and said, 
 "What did you say, Stephen?" 
 
 " 1 believe you like to scrimp yourself for 
 any one you like." 
 
 " Of course I do," she said, laughing, and 
 tossing her white head. " I should only be 
 half a woman if I didn't." 
 
 " He is a handsome lad, isn't he ? " said the 
 sergeant. 
 
 " Indeed he is. Every one looks at him in 
 the street. Wasn't it a joke that old Mrs. 
 Purdy should think he was our boy ? I shall 
 never forget the way Eugene looked at her 
 when she fell on his neck, and said he was 
 the image of his father." 
 
 " She is getting old and stupid," said the 
 sergeant indulgently, "and forgets things. 
 
MONSIEUR LE CURE ARRIVES. 143 
 
 Hello, here's our young man," as Eugene came 
 quietly into the room. " What have you been 
 doing, son ? " 
 
 " I was reading," said Eugene ; " that is," 
 lie added hesitatingly, as he met Mrs. Hardy's 
 scrutinizing glance, " I was looking beyond 
 my history lesson for to-morrow." 
 
 "Your first statement is true," said Mrs. 
 Hardy quietly. " If you were only reading, 
 you were not studying. I don't care to have 
 him learn lessons in the evening," she said in 
 an explanatory tone to her husband, " because 
 it tires him." 
 
 44 No child should study in the evening," 
 said the sergeant gruffly. 
 
 4C I wished to find out what Washington did 
 when he became a man," said Eugene. 
 
 " You like to read about the father of this 
 country, don't you ? " asked Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 " I do. I admire him. He was a great 
 man," said the boy. 
 
 44 Greater than Napoleon ? " inquired the ser- 
 geant mischievously. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy gently pushed his foot under 
 
144 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 the table when she saw Eugene's disturbed 
 face, but the sergeant would not recall his 
 question. 
 
 " No, no, not greater," said the boy at length, 
 44 not greater ; I cannot forget my emperor ; 
 but General Washington was better. He loved 
 more his fellow-men." 
 
 44 Bravo ! " said the sergeant ; 44 you'll make 
 a first-class citizen of the United States yet." 
 
 44 Never," said Eugene abruptly. 
 
 The sergeant q-nd his wife looked earnestly 
 at him. 
 
 44 1 shall be a Frenchman always," said Eu- 
 gene vehemently. 44 1 may never see my coun- 
 try again; but I love her I would die for 
 her; " and he grew deathly pale, as he always 
 did when he was much moved. 
 
 " That's right," said the sergeant, u The 
 world wants more boys like you. Always 
 stand up for your own country, but be chari- 
 table to others. France is a wide word, my 
 boy, but there's a wider." 
 
 44 You mean America ? " 
 
 "No; I mean the world." 
 
MONSIEUR LE CURfi ARRIVES. 145 
 
 " I like America," said Eugene ; " but I de- 
 test England." 
 
 "There's where you're wrong," said the ser- 
 geant. "If I hated England, I should feel 
 like a child hating my mother. They're a 
 magnificent nation over there; though some- 
 times they provoke us, and sometimes we pro- 
 voke them. However, they'll stand more 
 goading from us than they will from any other 
 people on the face of the earth. Just you 
 make a note of that, my boy. You'll find it's 
 true some day, and then you will appreciate 
 them." 
 
 "Possibly," said Eugene; "in the day that 
 I tolerate the republic in France." 
 
 " Queer little lad," said the sergeant, affec- 
 tionately laying a hand on Eugene's smooth 
 head. " You can't look ahead and see yourself 
 a tolerant man ? " 
 
 Eugene rarely let a question go unanswered. 
 He had been brought up to reply to every re- 
 mark addressed to him ; but seeing he had some 
 difficulty in answering this, the sergeant went 
 on. " I can. You have a fair start toward 
 
146 THE KING OF THE PAEK. 
 
 making a first-class, what is it they call 
 those people that are at home among all na- 
 tions, oh, yes, a cosmopolite. Wife, suppose 
 I go on with my reading?" 
 
 " Yes, do," she replied, as the sergeant again 
 took up his book. 
 
 Eugene sat down at a little distance from 
 him, and listened attentively to a tale of far- 
 away Africa. Mrs. Hardy listened, too, for a 
 short time ; then she laid down her work and 
 gazed attentively, first at the boy on the sofa, 
 and then at her husband beside her. Some- 
 thing stirred softly in her heart as she looked 
 at these two beings, her husband and her 
 adopted son. For them she felt that she could 
 endure any hardship, any privation. If the 
 occasion should arise, she felt that she could 
 even lay down her life for them. 
 
 " I used to think that I was happy, but I am 
 happier now," she murmured. " My love for 
 my husband makes me love the boy more, and 
 my love for the boy makes me love my husband 
 more." 
 
 Eugene, as if aware that her attention was 
 
MONSIEUR LE CUR& AER1VES. 147 
 
 concentrated on him, began to fidget in a sensi- 
 tive way, then he got up and moved to a chair 
 next her. She took his hand in hers, and the 
 boy leaned his head against her shoulder while 
 he again listened to the reading. 
 
 At last the sergeant put down the book. 
 " Wife," he said, " it is half-past nine." 
 
 " I will go to bed," said Eugene, rising im- 
 mediately. " Good-night, Mrs. Hardy." 
 
 " Good-night, my dear boy," she said, " my 
 son." 
 
 A curious look came over the boy's face. He 
 colored, looked confused, and she thought that 
 his parted lips were forming the word " mother," 
 when suddenly her two cats, who were usually 
 taken with a spirit of mischief about bedtime, 
 sprang at her workbasket, and by upsetting it 
 diverted her attention from Eugene. 
 
 He laughed in the merry way that he had 
 learned since coming to her house ; and at once 
 he and the sergeant and the cats engaged in 
 a frolic, and by turns chased each other and 
 the spools of thread that went rolling all over 
 the floor. 
 
148 THE KING OF THE PAKE. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy stood looking at them with a 
 smile on her face when, in the midst of their 
 fun, they heard a ring at the door-bell. 
 
 Eugene jumped up. " Allow me to open the 
 door," he said in his pretty, courteous way ; and 
 Mrs. Hardy stood aside to let him pass. 
 
 The parlor door remained open ; and to her 
 surprise she heard from the hall, first an eager 
 exclamation from Eugene, then a succession of 
 rapid French sentences. 
 
 " Who is there ? " said the sergeant, turn- 
 ing his red face toward her. 
 
 " I cannot imagine. Wait ! Eugene is bring- 
 ing the person in." 
 
 At that minute the boy appeared in the 
 doorwa}', ushering in a tall, very foreign-look- 
 ing, brown -faced man, clad in a black cassock. 
 
 The boy's cheeks were blazing, and his eyes 
 were excited. " Mrs. Hardy," he said in a 
 repressed voice, " permit me to present to 
 you monsieur le cur De*joux of Chatillon- 
 sur-Loir. I have told him in the hall that it 
 is with you that I have found refuge. Enter, 
 monsieur." 
 
MONSIEUR LE CURfi ARRIVES. 149 
 
 The sergeant flashed a quick glance at his 
 wife. How would she stand this? The priest 
 probably came to take her darling back to 
 France. To his relief she was perfectly calm, 
 though clearly surprised. She looked without 
 consternation into the grave, kindly, almost 
 childish face of the stranger. 
 
 The sergeant pressed forward, and shook 
 hands with his caller ; then wondering that 
 his cassock should be so handsome, and his 
 boots so clumsy, and his bare, ungloved hands 
 so brown, he pointed to a chair, and begged 
 him to be seated. 
 
 The curd bowed once more in a paternal 
 manner, and sitting down, looked at Eugene, 
 who stood at his elbow with glittering eyes 
 that scarcely moved from his face. 
 
 " You are here, I take it, from the boy's 
 grand-uncle," said the sergeant, coming di- 
 rectly to the object of his caller's visit. 
 
 The priest did not understand a word of 
 what he said. He spread out his hands, then 
 turned to Eugene, who had at last ceased to 
 hover about him, and had dropped on a stool 
 by his side. 
 
150 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Monsieur understands English," said the 
 boy, " if you will speak slowly. Is it not so ? " 
 
 The priest smiled, and showed a good set 
 of white teeth. " Yes," he said in a stum- 
 bling voice. " Vairy, vairy slow." 
 
 " You have come for Eugene, I 
 suppose," said the sergeant spasmodically. 
 
 " I comprehand parfaitement" returned the 
 priest. It ees true, I come to seek heem." 
 
 " It is getting late now," said Mrs. Hardy 
 with a glance at the clock, "and Eugene will 
 be too much fatigued to sleep. Suppose we put 
 off our business conversation till the morning, 
 and talk of other things." 
 
 The priest turned his gentle face toward 
 his hostess. He had not understood what she 
 said. 
 
 Eugene put her sentences into liquid French 
 for him ; and he made a gesture of assent, 
 and said in laborious English, " Madame has 
 right." 
 
 " Ah, no," said Eugene ; " I could not sleep. 
 With Mrs. Hardy's permission, let us talk a 
 long, long time. Tell me of France, dear 
 
MONSIEUR LE CURE ARRIVES. 151 
 
 monsieur le cure. Are you still in the little 
 village below the chateau ? " 
 
 " Steel there, excep' when I voyage in 
 Ame'rique," said the priest in peaceful amuse- 
 ment. " Nevair have I voyage before." 
 
 " And my uncle received my letter ? " said 
 Eugene. 
 
 " He deed," said the priest seriously. 
 
 " And he showed it to you ? " 
 
 " No, no ; he deed not that." 
 
 " Did he tell you what I had written ? " 
 asked Eugene. 
 
 " No, my chile." 
 
 " He was angry, for example ? " 
 
 " Well angry, leetle one. Thou deed write 
 wrong, ees it not ? " 
 
 "Possibly I did," said Eugene with a shrug 
 of his shoulders ; and for the first time Mrs. 
 Hardy found her suspicion verified that the 
 boy had had some prickings of conscience 
 about the letter that he had written to his 
 grand-uncle. 
 
 " Thy faikel has many cheeldren," said the 
 cure amiably. 
 
152 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " He has but a son and a daughter," re- 
 joined Eugene hastily. 
 
 " But the cheeldren's cheeldren," said the 
 priest, expanding his hands. " Many they 
 are, like the birds of the feelds." 
 
 " Therefore," said Mrs. Hardy slowly, " he 
 cannot do much for Eugene. Is that what 
 you wish to say ? " 
 
 " Pardon, madame," said the cure. 
 
 Eugene explained what she meant, and the 
 priest assented by a profound bow. 
 
 "But he has sent me money," said Eugene, 
 frowning slightly. " Much money, has he 
 not, monsieur le cure* ? " 
 
 The cure shook his head. " He has sent 
 me not money. Monsieur thy onkel wishes," 
 and he directed his remark to Mrs. Hardy, 
 " that thees dear boy return to hees country." 
 
 "Pause a moment, monsieur le cure*," said 
 Eugene urgently, " and pardon me, Mrs. 
 Hardy, thougli it is not civil to speak a lan- 
 guage you do not understand, but I cannot 
 wait;" and then ensued a brief colloquy "be- 
 tween them in French. 
 
MONSIEUR LE CURE ARRIVES. 153 
 
 The boy's face grew paler and paler, and 
 his manner quieter, as they proceeded, while 
 the cure became flushed and eloquent. 
 
 "Eugene is suffering, poor lad. I wonder 
 what the priest is saying," murmured Mrs. 
 Hardy. 
 
 At last the conversation was over. The ex- 
 pression of hope and animation that had illu- 
 mined the boy's countenance when he greeted 
 the cure* had all died away. He was composed 
 now, and almost sullen. 
 
 "All is over," he said with a despairing 
 gesture ; " my uncle renounces me." 
 
 The cure*, who was listening eagerly to him, 
 caught the word " renounce." 
 
 "Eugene," he interposed gravely, u thou de- 
 ceivest also thyself and thy iriends. Willst 
 thou explain ? " 
 
 Eugene turned to the Hardy s, and said in a 
 dull voice, " My grand-uncle offers me a pit- 
 tance which I do not receive unless I go to 
 France not to live with him," bitterly, " ah, 
 no, but with monsieur the cure." 
 
 " It seems to me from what I have heard 
 
154 THE KING OF THE PARE: 
 
 you say," remarked the sergeant, " that you 
 would not care to take up your abode with 
 your uncle." 
 
 " I would never live with him," said Eu- 
 gene proudly ; " yet he should offer to have 
 me inhabit the chateau which should be 
 mine." 
 
 " Would you not like to live with this 
 gentleman?" asked Mrs. Hardy in a tense 
 voice. 
 
 Eugene turned his pain-stricken face toward 
 her. When the cure had first appeared, the 
 lad had immediately assumed a patronizing air 
 toward the two people who had been as adopted 
 parents to him. Now, however, his pride was 
 all gone. His grand expectations from his 
 uncle were not to be realized. He felt him- 
 self to be a poor, despised boy. 
 
 " What does it matter whether I like it or 
 not," he said with a bitter smile. " I am 
 obliged to go to France. I must live with this 
 good man, but I fear that I shall be a torment 
 to him. However, some day I shall revenge 
 myself on my uncle. I shall study it." 
 
MONSIEUR LE CURE ARRIVES. 155 
 
 " Eugene," said Mrs. Hardy suddenly, " you 
 must go to bed; you are not yourself." 
 
 " You will spend the night with us, will 
 you not?" said the sergeant hospitably to 
 their visitor." 
 
 The priest said that it would be " too much 
 pleasure," that he had " conveyed " his travel- 
 ling-bag to a near hotel, and that he was sorry 
 to have " deranged " them by coming so late, 
 but he had been detained by a search for Eu- 
 gene in his old quarters. 
 
 "That doesn't matter," said the sergeant; 
 " better late than never. I'll go with you 
 and get your bag, and we can put you up 
 here." 
 
 The priest overwhelmed him with thanks; 
 and while the sergeant went for his hat, he 
 looked about the pleasant room, and said ap- 
 preciatively, "Ah, but you are well cossu 
 here." 
 
 "What does he mean?" asked Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 "It is like a bean in a soft pod," said Eu- 
 gene. " One uses the word in France. This 
 house is indeed a palace compared with the 
 
156 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 house of the poor cure," he went on, after the 
 priest had uttered a cheerful au revoir and 
 had disappeared with the sergeant. 
 
 " What is his house like ? " asked Mrs. 
 Hardy curiously. 
 
 " Chatillon-sur-Loir is a small village," re- 
 plied Eugene. " There is a broad green in 
 the centre of it. On one side in a thatched 
 cottage lives the cur with old Jeanne his 
 servant. He has only a few pieces of furni- 
 ture. He drinks but little wine, mostly water 
 or mallow tea; and he eats black bread, for 
 the white is dear. He wears an old cotton 
 cassock ; the one that he has on is probably a 
 gift from my grand-aunt, who is pious. And 
 he gives away everything, even the wood for 
 his stove. He goes from his cottage to the 
 chapel where he officiates ; he visits the peasants 
 who are stupid. He saunters to and fro on 
 the green, reading his breviary or the Figaro. 
 Oh, it is a charming existence ! " 
 
 Mrs. Hardy suppressed a smile. " You would 
 be less unhappy with us," she said. 
 
 Eugene looked at her quickly. 
 
MONSIEUR LE CURE ARRIVES. 157 
 
 " Why not stay with us?" she murmured 
 caressingly. " You know that we love you, 
 and would consider you our child if you would 
 let us." 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! " said Eugene, raising his hands 
 as if he were putting some temptation from 
 him. " Do not mention this, for it is among 
 the impossible things." 
 
 "Good-night," she said abruptly; and she 
 kissed him tenderly, and then pushed him from 
 her. " Go, get into your little bed, but re- 
 member this when you are fretting there, 
 that there is always one heart open to you, 
 one home ready for you. Whether you go to 
 France or stay here I shall always look upon 
 you as my boy." 
 
 Eugene paused. Then he seized her hand, 
 and pressed it warmly to his lips before he 
 rushed from the room. There were tears on 
 the hand when he dropped it, and Mrs. Hardy 
 sat looking at it steadfastly until her husband 
 came in. 
 
 u I just slipped the stranger into his room, 
 Bess," he said. " I knew everything was ready 
 
158 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 for him, and I thought I wouldn't bother 
 bringing him in here again ; for we folks who 
 have to get up early want to get to bed early. 
 What's the matter? You're not worrying, are 
 you?" 
 
 " No, Stephen ; it seems to me I shall never 
 worry again." 
 
 " Well, you're a queer little woman," he re- 
 joined. " You worry when I don't expect it, 
 and when I do, you don't." 
 
 " There's nothing to worry about in this 
 case," she said. 
 
 " That's odd. I thought you'd be struck all 
 of a heap. I nearly was when I took in the 
 situation." 
 
 u Do you suppose that child is going back 
 to France?" 
 
 " I guess so. It looks like it. I've had a 
 great talk with the priest. When I get him 
 alone I can understand his lingo better. I got 
 out of him some information about the de Var- 
 gas. He acknowledges that they're a proud, 
 ugly-tempered kind of a family, and the young 
 ones in it are as upsetting and unmanageable 
 
MONSIEUR LE CUEE ARRIVES. 159 
 
 as the old ones, which isn't usual among French 
 children. The grand-uncle is furious with this 
 boy. He'll not have an easy time in France.* 
 The old man won't have the boy live in the 
 chateau because he has the name of being un- 
 manageable, and he would talk his Bonapartism, 
 which isn't fashionable in the neighborhood. 
 Bess, what is the difference between the old 
 noblesse and the new ? " 
 
 " I don't know exactly. We'll have to read 
 about France, Stephen." 
 
 " The priest says that the de Vargas belong 
 to the new. He says if the boy was willing it 
 would be far better for him to remain in this 
 country, for he will be sure to get himself into 
 trouble in France ; but he knows he won't stay 
 here, so he is planning to take him back and 
 keep an eye on him. He says he'll try to 
 squeeze money enough out of the grand-uncle 
 to send him away to school. What are you 
 smiling about? " 
 
 " Stephen," said Mrs. Hardy gently but de- 
 cidedly, " that boy belongs to us. He will live 
 and die in this country." 
 
160 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " Are you crazy, Bess ? " 
 
 " No, I'm not. They may take him away, 
 but he'll come back. I doubt if he even con- 
 sents to leave this city." 
 
 The sergeant was surprised. " You are a 
 funny little woman," he said shortly. " What 
 makes you say that ? " 
 
 " Because he loves us," she said triumph- 
 antly. " I never was sure of it till this even- 
 ing. There's no one that he likes in France. 
 He will stay where his heart is, or if he goes 
 away he will come back to us." 
 
 " Maybe you're right and maybe you're 
 wrong," said the sergeant sagely. " Time will 
 tell ; but I guess he'll go to France and get 
 used to it." 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 161 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 THE sergeant was intensely amused and in- 
 terested in the French priest. He obtained a 
 few days' leave from his duties, and occupied 
 himself in showing his guest the sights of an 
 American city. The innocence, the childish- 
 ness, and the curiosity of his companion, and, 
 above all, the attention that he attracted, pro- 
 vided the sergeant with the most agreeable 
 sensation that he had had for many a day. 
 
 Eugene sometimes accompanied them, oftener 
 he did not. He was no longer cheerful and 
 contented, but had fallen into the reserved, 
 quiet, almost sullen state in which he had been 
 when Mrs. Hardy first knew him ; and instead 
 of mingling freely with the little family, he 
 preferred to be left alone in his room, where 
 he sat musing by the hour. 
 
 Occasionally he roused himself as the claims 
 
162 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 of hospitality asserted themselves in his mind, 
 and he politely endeavored to entertain the 
 priest by conversations about French matters. 
 To these conversations the sergeant lent a most 
 attentive ear. He had an immense curiosity on 
 the subject of foreign countries ; and the pre- 
 cocious remarks of Eugene with regard to the 
 peasant vote, the political clubs, and the rural 
 life of the nobility in France, with the almost 
 infantile responses of the cure to the boy's 
 questions arid unfathomable prejudices, formed 
 subjects on which he would remember to inform 
 himself after they were gone. 
 
 It had been definitely settled that Eugene 
 and the priest were to leave Boston at the end 
 of the week, and sail across the sea to France. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy rarely spoke of the boy's de- 
 parture ; but when she did, the reference was 
 made cheerfully, and as if she expected that 
 he would really go. In the meantime, when 
 she could spare a few hours from her household 
 duties, she busied herself with making prepa- 
 rations for his journey by adding to his rather 
 scanty wardrobe. Eugene went shopping with 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 163 
 
 her while the sergeant and the priest were en- 
 gaged in sight-seeing. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of the day preceding 
 the one on which they were to leave, Eugene 
 took the cure aside, and requested his com- 
 panionship while he made a call of importance. 
 
 " It is to see the father of the little Virgie," 
 he said to Mrs. Hardy who was standing near. 
 
 %/ O 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I understand," she said ; " you 
 wish to say good-by to your small playmate." 
 
 Eugene did not wish to say good-by to his 
 small playmate. However, he did not ex- 
 plain this to Mrs. Hardy, but simply gave 
 her an inscrutable look from his deep black 
 eyes, and walked out of the room with the 
 priest. 
 
 It was a dark, chilly afternoon, and the 
 priest shivered slightly inside his black cas- 
 sock as they wended their way toward the 
 broad and fashionable avenue where Virgie 's 
 parents lived. He was not accustomed to such 
 piercing winds in sunny France ; and he mur- 
 mured softly to himself, " Le climat de Loir- 
 et-Cher est doux et tempered 
 
164 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 Mr. Manning, Virgie's father, quite un- 
 aware of the visitors on their way to see him, 
 had just come home from his office, and sat 
 in his wife's room talking to her, and wait- 
 ing for dinner to be announced, when a maid 
 knocked at the door, and said that a priest 
 and a boy wanted to see him. He glanced 
 sharply at her, and asked, " What are their 
 names ? " 
 
 " I forget, sir," she said hesitatingly. " They 
 were queer-sounding and foreign." 
 
 " I cannot see them," said Mr. Manning, 
 settling himself back comfortably in his chair. 
 " They are probably begging." 
 
 The maid went down-stairs to a small re- 
 ception-room, and gave the strangers Mr. 
 Manning's message. 
 
 " Return to your master, and say that I 
 request an interview with him on the subject 
 of business," sai<J Eugene firmly. 
 
 The maid felt the strange power that the 
 lad exerted on all those who came in contact 
 with him ; and throwing him a glance of 
 veiled admiration, she again went up-stairs. 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARIUAGE. 165 
 
 "Tell the boy that I talk business in my 
 office," said Mr. Manning shortly. u Let him 
 go there in the morning." 
 
 Eugene was not daunted by this message. 
 "Repeat carefully my words," he said to the 
 amused maid ; and his eyes flamed as he 
 looked at her. "To-morrow I shall be on my 
 way to France. I have now a last chance 
 to see the gentleman of this house. If he 
 refuses, he may regret his loss." 
 
 The maid once more bent her footsteps 
 toward the staircase, and on the way met 
 Bridget, with whom she had a whispered col- 
 loquy. 
 
 " It's the little French boy, sir, that plays 
 with Miss Virgie," she said on returning to 
 Mr. Manning. 
 
 "Is it?" said the gentleman with a laugh. 
 " He is going to get on in the world, who- 
 ever he is ; " and he hurried down-stairs. 
 
 The priest and Eugene rose and bowed pro- 
 foundly at the entrance of the little, short, 
 sharp business man. His gray eyes took in 
 their peculiarities at one glance ; then, some- 
 
166 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 what flattered by their obeisances, he re- 
 sponded by a nod of his head, and motioned 
 them to be seated. 
 
 " You know my small daughter ? " he asked, 
 addressing Eugene. 
 
 " Sir, I have the honor of romping with 
 her at times," said the boy solemnly. 
 
 " Indeed ! " replied Mr. Manning with equal 
 solemnity ; then with a quick, brisk movement 
 of his hand he brushed back the hair from his 
 forehead, and looked out of the window. 
 
 Eugene, overcome by the knowledge of the 
 importance of his mission, neither smiled nor 
 tried to make himself agreeable in any way 
 to this brusque man, but waited in sober pa- 
 tience for a sufficient time to elapse before 
 the proper moment arrived to approach the 
 object of his visit. 
 
 " It is a raw day," Mr. Manning said at 
 last, addressing the priest. 
 
 A raw day was something quite beyond 
 the curb's ken ; so he made no attempt to re- 
 ply to the remark, but bowed agreeably and 
 kept silence. 
 
AM COME," SAID EUGEXE AT LAST, " TO DEMAND THE HAND OF 
 
 YofR DAUGHTER ix MARRIAGE." 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 167 
 
 " I hope that mademoiselle your daughter- 
 is well," said Eugene after a long pause. 
 
 " She is, thank you," said Mr. Manning ; 
 then he, too, relapsed into silence. 
 
 " I am come," said Eugene at last, seeing 
 that tha gentleman was politely yet stub- 
 bornly resolved not to enter into conversation 
 with him, " supported by my friend monsieur 
 le cure* of Chatillon-sur-Loir, to demand the 
 hand of mademoiselle your daughter in mar- 
 riage." 
 
 Mr. Manning was a man who had attained 
 to great self-possession ; but at Eugene's as- 
 tonishing request, he was again obliged to 
 stroke his hair vigorously, and once more look 
 out of the window. 
 
 Eugene contemplated him meanwhile in 
 great satisfaction. This composed man of busi- 
 ness would make an excellent father-in-law. 
 
 " May I ask," said Mr. Manning at length, 
 abruptly bringing his attention once more to 
 bear upon his guest, " whether this is for im- 
 mediate or future marriage ? " 
 
 " For the future," said Eugene quickly. 
 
168 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 "How old are you?" asked the gentleman. 
 
 " I am thirteen, but I will be fourteen on 
 my next birthday," replied the lad. 
 
 " Well, now, don't you think," said Mr. 
 Manning in an almost coaxing tone of voice, 
 " that you are rather young yet to consider 
 so important a question as the choosing of 
 your future wife ? " 
 
 "Exceedingly young," said Eugene in an 
 equally reasonable voice. " I am taking a 
 part that is quite unusual, yet it suits me ; for 
 I am leaving this country, perhaps not to re- 
 turn for many years, therefore I beg you to 
 grant me your best attention." 
 
 Mr. Manning stared at the cure, whom he 
 was almost forgetting in his interest in Eu- 
 gene. What kind of a man was this who, 
 after he had attained to years of maturity, 
 suffered a child to go about making himself 
 ridiculous ? 
 
 The cure, blissfully unconscious of this 
 thought, and not understanding a word of 
 what he said or of what Eugene said, sat gaz- 
 ing tranquilly out through the door of the 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 169 
 
 reception-room at the magnificence of two par- 
 lors across the hall. He, a poor priest, had 
 never been in so handsome a house in his life. 
 The stone chateau of the de Vargas, which 
 was large, bare, and comfortless, could not be 
 compared with this mansion. As a young 
 man, he had gone from the cottage of his 
 peasant father and mother to a seminary, and 
 from thence to Paris for a few months, where 
 he lived the life of a student. He had seen 
 the exterior of fine hotels and palaces, but 
 never had his feet trodden such velvety car- 
 pets, never had his limbs pressed such soft 
 furniture, never had he been received as a vis- 
 itor in the home of such a one as this small 
 amiable gentleman, who was probably a mer- 
 chant prince in this strange new country, and 
 who talked to his young friend with brevity, 
 and yet without the smallest tincture of 
 haughtiness. 
 
 The cure beamed amiably at Mr. Manning, 
 and not a suspicion of envy found lodgment 
 in his gentle breast. He was delighted to see 
 a man in possession of so much luxury. "I 
 
170 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 felicitate you, sir," he murmured when Mr. 
 Manning briefly asked him what relation he 
 bore to Eugene. 
 
 " He cannot understand you, sir," interposed 
 Eugene, " unless you speak French or slow 
 American." 
 
 Mr. Manning made a gesture that signifi- 
 cantly commended the cure to the pleasant 
 company of his own thoughts. He was not 
 the man to talk "slow American " when a few 
 quick sentences would dispose of the business 
 in hand. 
 
 "So you wish me to seriously consider your 
 proposal, little boy," he said, again confronting 
 Eugene. 
 
 "I do, sir." 
 
 " Well, then, give me your reasons for break- 
 ing through the custom of this country, which 
 I suppose you know is not to arrange marriages 
 until the contracting parties are of age." 
 
 "When they usually arrange them for them- 
 selves," continued Eugene. 
 
 Mr. Manning was excessively amused. " I 
 see you know all about it," he said. 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 171 
 
 "This is my excuse for breaking through 
 your habits," said Eugene earnestly. "I am 
 noble ; you are not. You might desire to 
 have me for a son-in-law some day when I 
 am no longer here, for I go to France to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Couldn't I write you a letter?" asked Mr. 
 Manning. 
 
 " By the time of a few years I might form 
 other arrangements ; therefore, while I am here, 
 where there are so few nobles, is it not better 
 to secure me for mademoiselle your daughter? " 
 
 " Suppose mademoiselle my daughter didn't 
 wish to marry you when she grew up ? " 
 
 " Oh ! but she would," said Eugene in great 
 surprise. " Well-bred ladies are always ar- 
 ranged for in marriage in France, and they 
 enjoy it. It would not be necessary to inform 
 her until the time." 
 
 "I know you fix these things in a different 
 way in France," said Mr. Manning with ex- 
 traordinary seriousness ; " but upon my word, 
 I don't like to be the first to start the custom 
 here." 
 
172 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " I am sure there would be 110 regret in the 
 case," said Eugene warmly. "As little girls 
 are concerned, Mademoiselle Virgie is one of 
 the healthiest and the best-tempered. A suit- 
 able dowry being attached to her, she will 
 have the benefit of my beau nom, as one says 
 in France. And will she not rejoice to be 
 madame la comtesse ? " 
 
 " She will be too sensible a girl to hang her 
 happiness on a title, I hope," said Mr. Manning ; 
 "and though you seem a decent enough boy 
 now, you may grow up to be a scamp." 
 
 Eugene's little straight back grew more rigid 
 than before. " I am a de Vargas," he said 
 with an expression of proud and conscious 
 superiority. "There are no scamps in our 
 family." 
 
 Mr. Manning twisted his lips to conceal the 
 inward laughter that was consuming him. 
 " Granted that you are not going to be a 
 scamp, how will you earn your bread?" 
 
 " By my sword." 
 
 " But there doesn't seem to be much use for 
 swords nowadays. The sentiment of to-day is 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 173 
 
 against war ; and I would rather have a whole 
 son-in-law, not one that somebody is going to 
 carve to pieces." 
 
 " But the army must be maintained. I shall 
 be an officer, and hold myself ready for war." 
 
 " Oh ! I see. Well, to come back to my start- 
 ing-point, I don't, like this plan. It's too one- 
 sided, too sure for you, too risky for my 
 daughter." 
 
 " Are not American girls equal to French 
 girls who do this ? " 
 
 " Yes, I daresay ; but I prefer an American 
 husband for my child. I know that French 
 people look out for money. You won't let 
 your army officers marry without getting a cer- 
 tain amount with a wife, I have heard ; but 
 somehow or other the thing does not commend 
 itself to me. I don't believe in marrying for 
 money." 
 
 " But we do not do that," exclaimed Eugene. 
 44 Oh ! you are rashly mistaken. A Frenchman 
 does not marry to obtain gold. It is to protect 
 his wife. Some money is necessary to be as- 
 sured to her ; it is rarely enough to maintain 
 
174 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 a carriage and a table. All women like the 
 arrangement otherwise, why would mothers 
 marry their daughters if they themselves have 
 been unhappy ? " 
 
 "I tell you what I'll do," said Mr. Manning 
 with prodigious gravity. " As I have told you, 
 I don't like to be the first to launch this new- 
 fangled thing in America. I believe I would 
 be mobbed if I started to go down town among 
 people who knew I had promised my baby girl 
 in marriage to a strange boy that I had only 
 seen once in my life ; but you go round and 
 visit some of the other business men of this 
 city, and if you can get them to give their 
 consent to let this custom have a fair trial here, 
 I will sign a paper that will commit my daugh- 
 ter to an engagement to you." 
 
 Eugene's face fell. "There will not be 
 time," he said in a pained voice, " as we leave 
 to-morrow. I hoped that a writing could be 
 made out to-day." 
 
 " I am not prepared to go that length," said 
 Mr. Manning decidedly. u You see you have 
 sprung this thing on me. You will be coming 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 175 
 
 to America again leave it till then, and we'll 
 talk it over. Hello, boy, you're not going to 
 faint, are you ? " 
 
 Every vestige of color had left Eugene's 
 face. He was not able to analyze his own feel- 
 ings, but deep down in his heart there was a 
 profound and blank regret that he was to leave 
 America. He had hoped that a definite agree- 
 ment could be made with the father of little 
 Virgie, which would give an excuse for a return 
 to the city where he had lately experienced the 
 only happy days of his life. If there was to 
 be no agreement, there could be no return. 
 
 "No, I never faint," he said; and a sudden 
 reserve came over him. " I have only to apolo- 
 gize for this intrusion and leave you. Mon- 
 sieur le cure, may I request you to go ? " 
 
 " Sit down, boy, sit down," said his host 
 kindly. " I want to ask you some questions 
 about yourself." 
 
 Eugene resumed his seat, and with the air 
 of a complaisant though suffering martyr re- 
 sponded to the questions put to him. 
 
 Something about his coldly courteous an- 
 
176 THE KISG OF THE PA UK. 
 
 swers excited the keenest interest in his inter- 
 rogator. " See here, my lad," he said at last, 
 " I want you to stay to dinner this evening and 
 meet my wife. Don't say a word to her on the 
 subject of our conversation. I wish that to be 
 a secret between you and me ; for to tell the 
 truth, you would only be laughed at if it were 
 to get out. Will you stay ? and you, sir? " and 
 he addressed the cure. 
 
 Eugene at first recoiled in spirit from this 
 proposal, but he felt himself bound to convey 
 the invitation to the cure ; and the delight of 
 the good man at the honor was so extrava- 
 gant and unbounded that the boy gracefully 
 yielded and consented to stay, only stipulat- 
 ing that a message be sent to the Hardys, 
 who were expecting them to return to par- 
 take of their supper. 
 
 44 1 will send my man up," said Mr. Man- 
 ning. 44 Will you excuse me while I give 
 him the message, and notify my wife that you 
 are here ? " 
 
 Eugene sat stiffly in his seat. He looked 
 neither to the right nor to the left, and he 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MAURI AGE. 177 
 
 made only monosyllabic replies to the admir- 
 ing sentences rippling from the mouth of the 
 cure. 
 
 When Mr. Manning re-entered the room 
 escorting his wife, Eugene's face brightened 
 somewhat. With a grace and a composure 
 that charmed the lady, he rose and stood 
 aside, while monsieur le cure almost prostrated 
 himself before her. Then he, too, made an in- 
 flexion of his slender, supple body, and gazed 
 from under his black, drooping eyelashes at 
 the pretty mother of his desired fiancee. 
 
 He had never seen her before, and she had 
 never seen him. " Virgie talks a great deal 
 about you," she said. "Thank you, no, I will 
 not take a chair. Dinner is just about to be 
 announced. Why, you are ever so much older 
 than Virgie. I thought you were quite a 
 young boy." 
 
 Mr. Manning laughed quietly to himself. 
 He was apparently carrying on communica- 
 tions with the cure in dumb show, but in real- 
 ity he was listening to his wife's conversation 
 with Eugene. 
 
178 THE KING OF THE PAUK. 
 
 " I do not feel young/' said Eugene so- 
 berly, walking beside the lady out to the 
 brilliant splendor of the dining-room ; " at 
 times it seems to me that I have lived my 
 whole life." 
 
 Mrs. Manning was a plump, phlegmatic 
 woman, and by no means sensitive ; yet at 
 the boy's involuntary expression of inward 
 suffering and mental experiences beyond his 
 years, a sympathetic thrill passed over her, 
 and with an expression of pity, she showed 
 him his place at the table. 
 
 Eugene caught this expression, and in deep 
 irritation lowered his eyes to his plate. "Why 
 is it," he reflected bitterly, " that since I 
 came among these Americans I catch their 
 candid ways I reveal everything ? I even 
 think in their language. I will begin to re- 
 form at once, now that I am to return to my 
 own country ; " and a reform he immediately 
 began according to his own standard. It was 
 easier for him to be composed and reserved 
 at this table than at the Hardys. He sat up 
 very straight in his chair, and in an adroit 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 179 
 
 and delicate manner parried Mrs. Manning's 
 rather curious questions about his mode of 
 life since his grandfather's death. 
 
 Rather to her own surprise, as their conver- 
 sation progressed, Mrs. Manning found that 
 she was telling the boy far more about her- 
 self than he was telling her about himself. 
 For one thing, she confessed to him her long- 
 ing to go to Europe; and Eugene said, "It is 
 our misfortune that you have not yet visited 
 us. May we not look forward to the pleas- 
 ure of soon seeing you in France ? " 
 
 " I want to go to Europe next summer and 
 take Virgie," she said. 
 
 " May I express the wish that you will honor 
 Chatillon-sur-Loir with a visit?" 
 
 " I should like to see something of real 
 French life ever so much," said Mrs. Manning; 
 " and Virgie would be delighted to look you 
 up." 
 
 " Then we shall live in the hope of seeing 
 you," said Eugene sweetly, and with a side 
 glance at the cure*, who, in blissful uncon- 
 sciousness of the fact that visitors were being 
 
180 THE KING OF THE PA UK. 
 
 invited under his humble roof, was taking his 
 soup with some noise, and in a state of utter 
 beatification. 
 
 As course after course was served, Eugene, 
 who six months before would have been en- 
 chanted by the display of riches about him, 
 became more and more unhappy. He pre- 
 served his composure, but it was at the expense 
 of his nerves. Mrs. Manning's voice often 
 sounded distant and hollow in his ears ; and 
 once or twice he roused himself with a start, to 
 find that a servant stood at his elbo\v vainly 
 striving to attract his attention. 
 
 What was the matter with him ? He was 
 surrounded with things in which he took de- 
 light; and in this fine house with these rich 
 people he should feel perfectly at home, yet 
 his dull and inappreciative eye wandered care- 
 lessly over the costly dinner-service and the 
 display of exquisite flowers. The servants 
 moving noiselessly about wearied him; and the 
 lights, soft as they were, made his eyes smart 
 with unshed tears ; while Mrs. Manning's satin 
 dress, dainty as it was, had less beauty in his 
 
A PliOPO&AL OF M AIUU AGE. 181 
 
 sight than the plain white cotton gown of the 
 sergeant's wife. 
 
 She was thinking about him now, that kind 
 woman in the cottage by the Fens. Probably 
 she was just drawing her chair up to the fire 
 in the cosey parlor, and was taking from her 
 workbasket one of the fine new garments that 
 she was making for him. 
 
 Perhaps she was murmuring softly to her 
 husband, " How I miss that boy ! " 
 
 "What will she do when I am gone?" thought 
 Eugene in sudden terror. Something seemed 
 to gripe his heart, and he could have cried out 
 in his distress ; yet he controlled himself, and 
 replied in a quiet, clear voice to a question 
 that Mrs. Manning was asking him. 
 
 "Yes, madam, I will thank you for some 
 preserved ginger. I am fond of it, and it is 
 some time since I have eaten of it." 
 
 The cure ate long and with an admirable 
 appetite, and shortly after dinner showed an 
 amiable inclination to retire into a corner of 
 one of the parlors where a few luxurious arm- 
 chairs stood in inviting solitude. 
 
182 THE KlfrG OF THE PARK. 
 
 "Suppose I were to try one of these fau- 
 teuils," he said in a jocular way to Eugena ; 
 and dropping into one, he buried his face in a 
 newspaper which Mr. Manning handed him, 
 and over whose pages, which were almost 
 wholly unintelligible to him, he was soon doz- 
 ing gently. 
 
 Mr. Manning politely ignored his presence ; 
 and, being chiefly interested in Eugene, he, 
 quite unintentionally, kept the lad on the rack 
 for some time by asking him further questions 
 about himself and his plans for the future. 
 
 The boy could not evade his sharp business- 
 like inquiries as he had done those of his 
 wife. He endured them with the best grace 
 possible, only growing a little white in the 
 effort to control himself. As soon as Mrs. 
 Manning's return from the nursery, where she 
 had been to see her child, gave Eugene an 
 excuse for leaving, he rose gracefully, and 
 looked toward the cure. 
 
 " What, going already?" said Mr. Manning. 
 " Mamma, can't this boy say good-by to your 
 little daughter? He thinks a great deal of 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MAEEIAGE. 183 
 
 her;" and his eyes gleamed mischievously as 
 they rested on Eugene. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs. Manning. " As a 
 general thing I don't like her to be disturbed 
 after she goes to bed, but we will make an 
 exception in favor of her playfellow." 
 
 " Come along, then," said Mr. Manning ; and 
 he ran up-stairs more nimbly than Eugene, 
 and waited for him at the top of the staircase. 
 
 " Here we are," he said briskly ; and he 
 opened the door of a dimly lighted room. 
 " Are you asleep, pet ? " 
 
 " No, papa," said Virgie sleepily ; and Eu- 
 gene saw her pretty head rising from a crib. 
 
 " Where is nurse ? " asked Mr. Manning, ad- 
 vancing to the crib. 
 
 " Gone down-stairs, cross old thing," said 
 Virgie. " Have you brought your little girl 
 a present, papa ? " 
 
 "No," said her father with a laugh. "I 
 have brought a boy that wants to say good-by 
 to you. He is going away. Do you know 
 who it is ? " 
 
 " ; Course I do," said Virgie, who was clearly 
 
184 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 in a bad temper; "it's that cross boy Eugene. 
 Is lie going to his old remperor ? " 
 
 Eugene felt as if he were suffocating. He 
 had always fancied that he did not like this 
 little American girl, that he only endured 
 her; and he had considered it a great conde- 
 scension on his part that he should include her 
 in the childish stroke of diplomacy by which 
 he proposed to make the way clear for a re- 
 turn to America. Now he saw that he had 
 been mistaken. He loved the small child 
 next to Mrs. Hardy and the sergeant, and her 
 indifference cut him to the heart. 
 
 " Little one," he said resentfully, as he 
 stepped nearer, " you may never see me again." 
 
 " Then Virgie will be glad," said the child, 
 pouting out her lips at him ; " once you 
 sweeped the ground with me." 
 
 Mr. Manning was convulsed with amuse- 
 ment at the calmly vindictive attitude of his 
 youthful daughter, and waited attentively for 
 Eugene's next sentence. 
 
 " Shall I send you a present from France ? " 
 he asked at last. 
 
A PROPOSAL OF NAEEIAGE. 185 
 
 " No ; Virgie hates French dolls." 
 
 " Across the sea," said Eugene mournfully, 
 " I shall soon forget you ; for I shall have 
 boys to play with and you are but a girl." 
 
 " When you go 'way, Eugene," replied Vir- 
 gie in a cool and impassive manner, "I'll frow 
 all the stones in the park at the remperor." 
 
 This shaft did not excite his anger as she 
 thought it would ; so she continued, cautiously 
 feeling her way, for she was afraid of him 
 when he lost his temper. " An' maybe I'll kill 
 the king, an' the other pussies, an' the mister 
 policeman, an' maybe I'll come an' kill you." 
 
 Her sweet and silly defiance did not pro- 
 voke the boy, and she lashed her childish 
 imagination for another taunt. " If Virgie 
 had a gun," she murmured, " a big, big gun, I 
 guess she'd shoot you now." 
 
 Eugene smiled sadly, and yet his eyes were 
 full of tears. Was he going to cry before this 
 child and the man who was silently regarding 
 him ? The thought filled him with dismay ; 
 and he turned on his heel, and abruptly went 
 toward the door. 
 
186 THE KING OF THE PA UK. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " squealed Virgie dismally, " the 
 pretty buttons ! come back, I want to see 
 them ! " 
 
 Her volatile, childish fancy had been taken 
 with the glitter of some new buttons on 
 Eugene's coat; and hastily wiping his eyes, he 
 returned to her, and before Mr. Manning could 
 prevent him, he had gallantly twisted a but- 
 ton from its place, and put it in the child's 
 hand. 
 
 " Thank you, Eugene, just dreffully," she 
 said in delight; and she sprang up in her crib, 
 clasping her new treasure firmly in one hand, 
 while she extended the other toward him. 
 " Good-by, Virgie won't hurt the remperor ; 
 here's a present for you ; " and she caught up 
 a legless, armless doll lying on her dainty 
 pillow. 
 
 Eugene went to her, and she stuffed it in 
 his pocket. Then she yawned sleepily, put her 
 pink lips to his ear, and murmured, "Good-by, 
 Eugene, be a good girl ; " and dropping down 
 on her pillow was asleep before they had 
 fairly left the room. 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MAREIAGE. 187 
 
 Ten minutes later Eugene and the priest 
 were walking quietly up the avenue in the 
 direction of the Hardys' house, and Mr. Man- 
 ning and his wife sat talking together with 
 amused faces. 
 
 " What do you make of that boy ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " I don't make much of him," she replied. 
 " He seems a polite little cynic." 
 
 " He is more than that," said Mr. Manning 
 sagely. " If he were going to stay in this 
 country, I would do something for him." 
 
188 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THAT WOMAN. 
 
 MRS. HARDY was afraid that Eugene was 
 going to be ill. Several times while giving 
 her an account of his visit to the Mannings 
 he relapsed into long, troubled silences. 
 
 As soon as he had finished his recital she 
 sent him to bed, and shortly afterwards she 
 came and stood over him with a medicine bottle 
 in her hand. 
 
 He asked no questions ; and after quickly 
 taking what she gave him, he kissed her hand, 
 and closing his eyes, fell into a troubled sleep. 
 
 In the morning he seemed more cheerful, but 
 he still acted like a boy in a dream; and the 
 sergeant muttered, " That lad doesn't hear more 
 than half of what is said to him. He's in a 
 dead worry about this business of going away. 
 Now I must have a few last words with the 
 priest. Come out into the garden, mussoo, it's 
 
THAT WOMAN. 189 
 
 a fine morning;" and he took his guest out- 
 of-doors. 
 
 " Now, look here, sir," he said firmly, and he 
 seized a button on the priest's cassock, " this 
 is your last day in Boston ; and I want to tell 
 you before you take that boy to France, that 
 you're to consider yourself as free as air to send 
 him back at any time it suits you and him, for 
 I guess his grand-uncle isn't going to interfere 
 much with him." 
 
 The cure hardly understood a word of what 
 the sergeant said, and the worthy man did not 
 expect that he would. The sergeant had for- 
 mulated a system about conversing with the 
 cure. The first time he uttered sentences he 
 rattled them off in any way just to accustom 
 the foreigner to the sound of the words. The 
 next time he repeated them slowly, the third 
 time more slowly, and with a liberal illustra- 
 tion of gestures in order to make his meaning 
 entirely plain. 
 
 Therefore, when the cure had heard a trio of 
 these sentences, accompanied by a far-away 
 fling of his host's hand to denote France, a 
 
190 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 nearer one for Boston, and a comprehensive 
 sweep through the air to indicate freedom of 
 action, he understood perfectly, and nodded his 
 acquiescence and approval of the plan. 
 
 " But I think he weel not return," he said. 
 
 "You don't know anything about it," said 
 the sergeant. "He is a queer lad; and like 
 most young fellows, and some old ones, he does 
 what you don't think he will do, and what you 
 think he will do, he won't." 
 
 " Pardon," said the cure. 
 
 " I can't make you see that," said the sergeant 
 decidedly, " because there isn't any scope for 
 gestures, so we'll let it pass. Now, I want to 
 tell you that I have a nest-egg, and my wife 
 has expectations, or rather a surety from a rich 
 aunt, so the boy wouldn't suffer if he came 
 back. We could educate him like a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " Eggs," exclaimed the cure in delight as a 
 familiar word broke upon his ear in the first 
 utterance of a sentence. " Hens lay eggs." 
 
 " Yes," said the sergeant, " hens and eggs go 
 together; but good gracious, }^ou've got me off 
 
THAT WOMAN. 191 
 
 the track, and if I go to explain my meaning 
 to you, you'll get all tangled up in a chicken- 
 coop. Forget it, mussoo." 
 
 " Forget eggs ; no, I remembare," said the 
 cure* reproachfully. 
 
 "I guess I'll have to dispose of that," said 
 the sergeant desperately. " What did I want 
 to use the old expression for ? Hens are useful 
 creatures ; " and to expedite matters he began to 
 flap his arms and cluck, and then brought his 
 hands near the ground to measure off the di- 
 mensions of a hen of respectable appearance. 
 
 "Eggs are good for eating," said the cure* 
 amiably. 
 
 " Yes, fine," said the sergeant; and he drew 
 a handful of silver from his pocket. " Do 
 you see that ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes." 
 
 "Money good stuff to have well, I've 
 a lot of it heaps ; " and he began to build 
 an airy pyramid on the ground. " Savings, 
 you know, and a little I had left me by my 
 parents enough to educate a boy." 
 
 " Yes, I comprehend," said the cure, de- 
 
192 THE KING OF THE PAEK. 
 
 lighted beyond measure at his own keenness ; 
 " you sell eggs, you make money. One does 
 it in France. One sells all things." 
 
 " All right," said the sergeant philosophi- 
 cally. " Have me sell eggs or anything you 
 like, the money is there, anyway, and the boy 
 is welcome to it. Hello, here he is. Come 
 here, lad, and dash this off to your protector. 
 You are now in America, you start for France 
 in a few hours ; you may stay there six weeks, 
 or six months, or six years, or all your life ; 
 but unless you hear from us that we have 
 forgotten you or changed our minds, you're 
 at liberty to come here and live with us at 
 any time. Do you understand that ? " 
 "I do," said Eugene; u and I thank you." 
 While he was talking to the cure, the ser- 
 geant sighed heavily, and went sauntering 
 down the walk to the gate, and out through 
 it to the park. He was not as sanguine as 
 his wife about Eugene's reluctance to leave 
 them, and he could not bear to remain at 
 home on this the last day of his stay with 
 them. 
 
THAT WOMAN. 193 
 
 When he returned for dinner in the middle 
 of the day he exerted himself to be cheerful ; 
 but he disappeared immediately afterward, and 
 did not come back until late in the afternoon, 
 in time to take Eugene and the priest to the 
 train. 
 
 All day long Eugene had followed Mrs. 
 Hardy about the house, waiting on her in a 
 quiet and unobtrusive way, but saying very 
 little. He did not understand her ; but she 
 understood him perfectly, and she saw that 
 as yet there was no flagging in his resolve to 
 go to France. 
 
 He wondered that this woman, who pro- 
 fessed to love him so much and who cried so 
 easily, had not yet, as far as he had known, 
 shed a tear over his departure. She did not 
 even break down when they reached the sta- 
 tion, and saw before them the long line of 
 cars on which he was to be whirled away 
 from her. 
 
 Eugene shuddered at the sight, and clung 
 convulsively to her hand. " Do you feel that 
 you ought not to go ? " she asked quietly. 
 
194 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 "No, no," said the boy in a tortured voice. 
 " I only feel it horrible to go ; yet it is for 
 the best, and it is duty. I shall come back 
 some day." 
 
 " Wife," said the sergeant inexorably, " it 
 is time for them to get on board the train. 
 Good-by, son." 
 
 " Good-by," said Eugene, shaking hands with 
 him; "you have been good to me. I thank 
 you " and here his voice failed him, and he 
 groped blindly for Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 When he felt her arms around him, he 
 whispered three words in her ear the words 
 she had longed to hear, and that he had never 
 given her until now. 
 
 " I love you," he breathed with his eager 
 lips against her cheek ; and then he added 
 with a heartbroken sigh, " if I were not a 
 beggar I should have stayed with you ; but 
 I am proud " here he broke off, and with- 
 out looking at her again, rushed into the 
 car and took his seat. 
 
 The cure followed him slowly and cau- 
 tiously, put in one of his capacious pockets the 
 
THAT WOMAN. 195 
 
 checks and tickets that the sergeant handed 
 to him ; then the conductor shouted, the crowd 
 of people stepped back, and the train moved 
 off. 
 
 Eugene remained motionless and silent in 
 his corner of the seat. He did not speak un- 
 til they reached the Fall River station, and 
 there he contented himself with monosyllabic 
 replies to the cure's remarks. 
 
 Upon arriving on the steamer the cure* 
 sauntered wonderingly about, taking in the 
 details of the life on board this floating pal- 
 ace. He would want to describe it accurately 
 upon reaching home, for he knew that the 
 peasants of Ch&tillon-sur-Loir were capable of 
 taking in accounts of greater wonders than 
 these. 
 
 Eugene had gone immediately to bed. After 
 an hour or two the cure followed him. Be- 
 fore turning into his berth for the night, he 
 looked at the one above him. The boy lay 
 with his arm over his face. Probably he had 
 been asleep for some time. 
 
 Being tired, and having a mind at peace 
 
196 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 with himself and the world, the priest slept 
 soundly and happily until shortly after day- 
 break. Then he got up ; and after gazing 
 through his small window at the red ball of 
 the sun, he raised his eyes to the upper berth 
 where he supposed Eugene was still sleeping. 
 
 To his surprise and distress the lad was 
 crouched in a corner, his limbs convulsed, his 
 face rigid, and his hands tightly clasped in 
 the bedclothes. 
 
 " How now, little one art thou having a 
 fit ? " exclaimed the priest in his own lan- 
 guage. u Let me dash some water in thy 
 face. Oh, this is pitiful ! " 
 
 Eugene stretched out his hand in a forbid- 
 ding way, but did not reply to him. 
 
 "Thou art having a spasm," said the priest. 
 " I am sure of it. Let me seek a doctor. 
 Oh ! what is the matter with thee ? " 
 
 " It is that woman," gasped Eugene. " Oh ! 
 I cannot endure it." 
 
 " A woman ! " repeated the priest, inspecting 
 the narrow dimensions of their room in great 
 amazement ; " there is no woman here." 
 
THAT WOMAN. 197 
 
 " It is that woman yonder, monsieur le 
 cure," said Eugene respectfully, and yet with 
 restrained anger ; " there is but one woman 
 that I consider the one who has been so 
 peerless for me. Oh ! I wish to see her. I 
 wish to see her ; " and he flung himself about 
 his berth in a paroxysm of regret and passion. 
 
 " Poor little one," said the priest, " hast thou 
 been suffering all through the long night ? " 
 
 " I have not slept," said Eugene miserably. 
 u I have sat up and thought of many things. 
 I wish to go back. I cannot endure this." 
 
 " I will be a mother to thee," said the 
 priest soothingly ; " and thou canst write to 
 that good woman." 
 
 "She will not care for letters," exclaimed 
 Eugene. " She wishes me, and I wish her. 
 When I lie down at night she wishes me happy 
 dreams. I did not know that I cared for it 
 until last night when she was not here. I 
 must go back to her. I shall go back ; " and 
 he surveyed his companion in open defiance. 
 
 The priest was puzzled. "Dost thou desire 
 to remain always in this country?" he said. 
 
198 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 "Yes," Eugene returned with sudden cool- 
 ness. " If that woman should die, possibly I 
 might return to France. While she lives I 
 will stay with her." 
 
 u Thou art an obstinate child," muttered the 
 cure to himself, "and I believe thee. Neither 
 the church nor the world restrains the de 
 Vargas. They are unruly, like the wild boars." 
 Then he said aloud, " What dost thou pro- 
 pose to do?" 
 
 "To return now," cried Eugene, flinging up 
 his head, "now, monsieur le cure. With your 
 permission I will go back I will say to her 
 I am sorry for the disturbances I have made 
 you. In future I shall try to be more peace- 
 ful." 
 
 "My life will be less lively without thee," 
 observed the cure thoughtfully ; " and were I 
 alone concerned thou wouldst freely have my 
 consent to remain, but thy grand-uncle " 
 
 " Tell him," said Eugene with bent brows 
 and flashing eyes, "tell him that he has no 
 authority over me. That I refuse the meagre 
 sum that he would dole out to me. In this 
 
THAT WOMAN. 199 
 
 country I will learn how to support myself ; 
 yet also tell him that since I love that woman 
 I hate him less." 
 
 " Thou art a fiery lad," murmured the cure 
 with resignation. " If thy grand-uncle were 
 a de Vargas I would need to soften that mes- 
 sage." 
 
 " Have I your permission to return ? " asked 
 Eugene urgently. 
 
 " Thou hast. Of what use would it be to 
 withhold it?" said the cure frankly. 
 
 44 Of no use," replied the boy with a relieved 
 gesture ; " for this morning I find myself capa- 
 ble of running away. As soon as we arrive 
 in New York I will leave you ; " and a bright 
 smile stole over his face. 
 
 The cure seized his black hat, and went for 
 a stroll on the deck, where he was a few 
 minutes later joined by a new Eugene, a 
 happy, contented boy, who seized his hand, and 
 begged forgiveness for the determined manner 
 in which he had just addressed him. 
 
 "Droll little lad," said the priest, "I won- 
 der what thy life will be ? I say to thee as 
 
200 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 that good man said yesterday, thou hast a 
 friend in me away in France. My cottage 
 door will always be open to thee." 
 
 Eugene pressed one of the cure's hands in 
 both of his, while tears stood in his eyes. Then 
 they went below to have breakfast ; and while 
 the boy was eating and drinking in a dainty, 
 half-famished way, the cure cast frequent and 
 curious glances at him. A transformation had 
 certainly been effected in the lad. He was no 
 longer buried in unhappy reserve. His face 
 was glowing; and he looked often and fear- 
 lessly at his companion, and smiled, as if some 
 of the affection that he felt for his adopted 
 mother was shed upon every one that had 
 come within the circle of her influence. 
 
 When they steamed into New York Harbor, 
 the cure gazed about him in wonder and ad- 
 miration. Eugene, plunged in a delicious 
 revery, took no notice of the lofty buildings, 
 the crowded wharves, and the maze of ship- 
 ping, but stood close to the cure, and stared 
 directly in front of him in intense abstraction 
 of mind. 
 
THE CUKE SLOWLY ruoNorxcED A BLESSING. 
 
THAT WOMAN. 201 
 
 After they landed, they had several nours of 
 tiresome quest, first in search of the steamer 
 that was to take the curd to Havre, then to find 
 a railway station from which Eugene could 
 be sent back to Boston. The dreamy boy and 
 the foreign man were directed and informed, 
 and redirected and reinformed ; and some hours 
 elapsed before the cure* had deposited his bag 
 on the steamer, and had finally and repeatedly 
 been assured that the trains from the station in 
 which he was then standing certainly did run 
 to Boston, and certainly would carry the boy 
 there as speedily as steam could take him. 
 
 " Go in, little one into the carriage and 
 take thy seat," said the cure in an agony of 
 excitement. "Oh! never did I see such a place 
 as this city. My head spins ; it is worse than 
 Paris ! " 
 
 " I will go in," said Eugene ; " but first your 
 blessing, monsieur le cure ; for I no longer 
 hate the priesthood, and say if you will that 
 you do not blame me." 
 
 The curd suddenly became calm. An an- 
 gelic smile overspread his face ; and as Eugene 
 
202 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 drew his cap from his head, the man laid his 
 hands on his smooth dark hair, and slowly 
 pronounced a blessing. 
 
 " Au nom de Dieu" Eugene murmured after 
 him ; then he flung himself in the cure's arms, 
 and embraced him heartily. 
 
 u We shall meet again, little one," said the 
 cure, " we shall meet again ; " and the last object 
 that the boy's eyes rested on as his train pulled 
 slowly out of the station was the tall black 
 figure of the priest standing a little back from 
 the crowd, his black hat in his hand, his finger 
 pointing solemnly upward from the noise and 
 babel of the city. 
 
 Eugene sat very quiet and still in his seat. 
 His heart was sore at the parting from the cure, 
 which was like the snapping of the last link 
 that bound him to his native land ; and yet 
 it was singing like a bird at the prospect of 
 his speedy reunion with his foster-parents. He 
 closed his happy eyes ; and in a very few 
 minutes he had fallen sound asleep, with a 
 smile on his face that made every passer-by 
 look at him in amusement. 
 
THAT WOMAN. 208 
 
 The cure knew that Eugene, who had at 
 different times in his life spent many months 
 in Paris, would be quite able to look out for 
 himself on reaching the city that had been his 
 home for so many months. He would have 
 been more convinced of this had he seen the 
 adroit way in which the boy slipped between 
 the throng of people when he reached Boston. 
 He took a short cut to the street corner where 
 he would find a car, arid in a very short time 
 his eye singled out the desired one from a num- 
 ber that were approaching. He sprang on it, 
 and was borne swiftly away from the streets 
 toward the large park which had become the 
 dearest spot on earth to him. 
 
 Soon he saw against the western sky the 
 tall straight poplars of the Boylston-street en- 
 trance ; and springing from the car as it stopped 
 on a corner, he ran, for he was too much agi- 
 tated to walk, in the direction of the cottage. 
 
 " Ah, that woman, that woman," he kept re- 
 peating to himself ; " but she will be glad to 
 
 see me." 
 
 Though it was quite dark, there were no 
 lights in the windows. 
 
204 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 " She is absent," he said ; " but I will not 
 grieve, for she will return." 
 
 He hurried up the garden-path, and tried to 
 turn the handle of the front door. "Ah, it is 
 locked the back one also, I suppose ; " and 
 he trotted cheerfully to the rear of the house. 
 
 " They are away," he said, when he found 
 he could not gain entrance there ; " and some 
 boys would be afraid. T shall not be ; " and he 
 lifted his face up proudly to the overcast sky, 
 "not even if they stay all night. I will look 
 into my charming room ; " and he shaded his 
 eyes with his hands, and peered into one of 
 the back rooms on the ground floor. Then 
 he tried to raise the window with his hand. 
 "Why, it is open," he said delightedly; "I 
 can get in. Why did that woman leave open 
 this window ? " 
 
 Eugene crawled in, and walked through the 
 house seeking matches, and lighting the gas 
 everywhere he went to make the rooms cheer- 
 ful for the return of the sergeant and his 
 wife. However, they did not appear, though 
 seven o'clock came, then eight, and finally 
 
THAT WOMAN. 205 
 
 nine. Only the two eats came home, spring- 
 ing in through the open window, and greeting 
 him with demure expressions of pleasure. 
 
 The boy fed and caressed them ; and then, 
 followed by the pair who were in a state of 
 silent satisfaction, he sat down by his window, 
 and resting his elbows on the window-sill, 
 looked out across the garden into the street. 
 It was very quiet. The Hardys had no near 
 neighbors, and only at rare intervals did any- 
 one pass, yet Eugene was not afraid. 
 
 44 1 am happy happy," he murmured, press- 
 ing his face against the tortoiseshell fur of one 
 of the cats. 4t I cannot be lonely unless she 
 stays a long, long time. Probably they are to 
 remain all night. It must be a visit to the 
 aunt. Come in, pussy. I must close the win- 
 dow, for it is cold." 
 
 The cat, however, did not wish him to close 
 it. With symptoms of great excitement she 
 rubbed herself back and forth against his 
 arms, and acted as if she were trying to at- 
 tract his attention to the other cat, who had 
 sprung boldly out on one of the flower-beds. 
 
206 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 Eugene placed one hand on the window- 
 sill, and jumped out after her. " What is the 
 matter, Dodo ? " he said. 
 
 The night was very dark, and it had begun 
 to rain. The electric light, however, shone 
 on this part of the garden, and he could see a 
 small dark creature moving slowly along the 
 fence. 
 
 "That must be one of the park cats," said 
 Eugene " not the king, for there is no white 
 on it. Why, it is his chum. What are you 
 doing here, Squirrel, and why do you move so 
 slowly ? " 
 
 With a sharp almost human cry of pain, the 
 little dark animal dropped from the fence to 
 the ground. 
 
 " What is wrong with you ? " said Eugene 
 as he walked along beside him. 
 
 The cat paused an instant to give him a 
 look of recognition, then, with a piteous mew, 
 continued his journey to the house. On reach- 
 ing Eugene's window the animal lifted his 
 head beseechingly. 
 
 "Thou wishest to go in, small park cat," 
 
THAT WOMAN. 207 
 
 said Eugene, dropping into French ; " well, 
 spring for it. I permit thee, though it is late 
 for a call." 
 
 The cat gathered his limbs together, and, 
 with something between a mew of gratitude 
 and a wail of pain, managed to attain to the 
 window-ledge. 
 
 " Why, thou art bleeding," said Eugene in 
 dismay, as he noticed red drops on the light 
 wood. " Unfortunate animal, have the dogs 
 been at thee?" and he hurried in after the 
 cat, and bent over him as he lay on the floor 
 exhausted by his journey to the house. 
 
 The cat did not resent the touch of his 
 gentle fingers ; and Eugene soon discovered 
 the extent of his injuries, and made a bandage 
 to hold together the torn skin. Immediately, 
 however, on being released, Squirrel signified 
 his wish to leave the room. Eugene opened 
 the door, and followed him out through the 
 hall to Mrs. Hardy's room. 
 
 " Is not this devotion ! " exclaimed the boy, 
 throwing out his hands with a gesture of ad- 
 miration. "Sick and wounded, and appar- 
 
208 THE KING OF THE PAEK. 
 
 ently about to die, the faithful creature would 
 be in the home of his mistress. Poor pussy, 
 I compassionate thee ; " and slipping off his 
 jacket the boy laid it on the bed, and lifted 
 the cat on it. 
 
 " Thy mistress is away. I do not know 
 when she will return," he said, leaning over 
 the suffering creature, and speaking in ex- 
 quisitely soft and sympathetic tones ; " but if 
 she were here she would stroke thy mangled 
 fur, and say kindly, 4 Courage, little cat, thy 
 sufferings will soon be over ; ' and for her sake 
 I put my hand on thy head, and I will sit by 
 thee till thou art no more. Perhaps, though, 
 thou wouldst like some milk ; " and he ran 
 quickly to the kitchen, and brought back some 
 cream in a saucer. 
 
 The dying cat refused to take it ; so the 
 boy smeared some on his lips, and then con- 
 tinued his compassionate sentences. Occasion- 
 ally, in response to his remarks to the effect 
 that death overtakes all, that there is but one 
 lot for king, pauper, or dumb beast, the animal 
 would return a plaintive mew. At last the 
 
THAT \VOMAN. 209 
 
 unfortunate Squirrel's sufferings were over. 
 He gave one gasp, like a dying child, then 
 lay quite still. 
 
 44 1 cannot cry, little cat," said Eugene 
 softly, wrapping the coat around him, and 
 tiptoeing his way back to his room ; 4t but I, 
 nevertheless, grieve for thee. Now what is 
 to be done? That dear woman evidently does 
 not return to-night ; " and he shivered, and 
 glanced over his shoulder. 44 1 am not afraid, 
 and yet the house is desolate." 
 
 For some time he stood with his head on 
 his breast, then he raised it with a sudden 
 air of decision. 44 1 will go to see the king. 
 He, too, will be sorrowing on account of the 
 absence of his friend." 
 
 He buttoned round him a warm overcoat, 
 put out the light in his room, and shut in it 
 the two old cats who had been mewing dis- 
 mally about him ever since their suffering 
 comrade had arrived. Then, carrying the 
 body of the unlucky Squirrel in his arms, he 
 wended his way to the park. 
 
 King Boozy was watching, and not sleep- 
 
210 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 ing. All through the evening he had been 
 wandering to and fro under the trees, await- 
 ing the arrival of the absent Squirrel before 
 he could go to sleep. On account of the 
 darkness and rain of the night not many per- 
 sons passed through the park ; and of those 
 who took the walk under the poplars not one 
 suspected the eager scrutiny of the pair of 
 eyes belonging to the little animal crouching 
 beneath the leaves not one but Eugene. 
 He knew that the cat was there, and whistled 
 softly to him. 
 
 The king was at his side in an instant, 
 and there was no need for Eugene to tell him 
 what had happened. He knew at once, and 
 in dumb sorrow trotted beside the boy to his 
 home in the underbrush. 
 
 "There he is, Boozy," said Eugene, laying 
 the cat carefully on the ground, and spread- 
 ing open the coat. " I thought it better for 
 thee to know. Thou wilt not cry? No, that 
 is a good, sensible cat." 
 
 The king crept close to his dead friend, and 
 examined him closely and affectionately, paus- 
 
THAT WOMAN. 211 
 
 ing every few minutes to look up at Eugene 
 as if to say, " Will he not revive ? " 
 
 The boy bent over him in the darkness. 
 " No, Boozy," he said, " thou canst not bring 
 him back. Poor little cat, he has lived his 
 day, and dogs or cruel boys have killed him. 
 And now I must return to the house, for it is 
 chilly here, but first I must tell thee some- 
 thing ; " and he caught the creature to him in 
 a tumult of affection. " Listen, till I tell thee 
 that I have been away, and that I have come 
 back a new boy. I do not know what has 
 caused the change in me ; but my heart feels 
 no longer hard and cold, but soft, quite soft, 
 like thy fur. I do not believe all that these 
 grown people tell me ; but I believe many 
 things, and I think that having lived longer 
 they may know a little more than I do. I 
 must be patient and learn ; and that woman, 
 that woman I love her, and she shall be my 
 mother! Ah, Boozy," and the boy sprang to 
 his feet, and lifted his cap reverently from his 
 head, "I shall be a son to her. I shall stay 
 in this new, free country as long as she lives. 
 
212 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 She says that I must not hate England, and I 
 will not hate it. She says that I must endure 
 the republic in France, and I will do that. 
 If she will guide me I will follow her, now 
 that I know that women are good and do not 
 deceive. My beloved grandfather did not un- 
 derstand. He did not know the sergeant's 
 wife. Au revoir, little cat: I must go back to 
 the house lest she possibly arrive and find me 
 absent. Wilt thou come with me ? " 
 
 No, the cat did not wish to accompany him. 
 Upon being released from Eugene's arms he 
 crept to the coat, and the last glimpse that 
 the boy had of him as he reluctantly went 
 away was of the king sitting in dignified sor- 
 row beside the body of his friend. 
 
THE RETURN. 213 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE RETURN. 
 
 ON the evening that Eugene left Boston, 
 Mrs. Hardy had received a telegram announ- 
 cing the serious illness of her aunt ; and accom- 
 panied by her husband she had at once left 
 her home to go and see her. They were away 
 a day and two nights, and early on the morn- 
 ing of the next day they returned home. 
 
 They were a very quiet couple as they drew 
 near the cottage. " It seems as if we had 
 been to a funeral," said the sergeant lugubri- 
 ously, "though it looks now as if your aunt 
 might get well. I wish that you had never 
 seen that boy, Bess. We have got to miss him 
 tremendously about the house." 
 
 " I believe you feel worse about his going 
 away than I do," said Mrs. Hardy. " I know, 
 I just know, Stephen, that he will come back. 
 He isn't fitted for that narrow French life, 
 
214 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 and you know he has been brought up to de- 
 spise priests. Now, if he had been going to a 
 city like this, or to any one that liked him " 
 
 " Oh ! he'll get used to it," said the sergeant, 
 "and boys forget." 
 
 " Some boys do Eugene won't," said Mrs. 
 Hardy. " I know him better than you do, 
 Stephen." 
 
 While they were talking, their cab stopped 
 in front of their own door. The sergeant got 
 out first, and taking a key from his pocket he 
 inserted it in the lock. After he had swung 
 open the door, and let his wife pass in, he 
 sauntered around the garden, carrying on a 
 half-growling soliloquy with himself. He was 
 slightly out of temper, and he did not know 
 what he wanted. 
 
 The clouds of the night had all blown away, 
 and the morning was bright and cheerful. The 
 frost that for some days had held the garden- 
 beds in its grasp had relaxed, and they were 
 now soft and muddy. 
 
 " Hello," said the sergeant, suddenly paus- 
 ing in his walk, "some young rascal has been 
 
THE RETUBN. 215 
 
 tramping over this marigold-bed by Eugene's 
 window just about the size of his foot too. 
 Why, what's that ? " and he wrinkled his eye- 
 brows as his eyes fell on the blood-stains on the 
 sill. " There's something wrong here. I'll 
 investigate. If I'm not a bad guesser some 
 one has been getting in this window. I told 
 Bess she ought not to leave it open; but she 
 would do it, and she didn't expect the boy 
 to come back either. Just a woman's foolish- 
 ness." 
 
 He strode quietly up to the window, and 
 tried to look in. The blind was down so he 
 could not do it ; therefore he put his hands on 
 the sash, and softly raised it. 
 
 More softly than he had raised it he put it 
 down, and his amazed and discontented expres- 
 sion vanished instantaneously. His lips formed 
 themselves into an exclamation of surprise ; and 
 uttering a long, low whistle, he nimbly picked 
 his way* over the muddy paths back to the front 
 of the house. 
 
 " Hello, Bess dear," he said, saluting her with 
 an affectionate tap on the shoulder as she 
 
216 THE KING OF THE PARE. 
 
 whisked into view with a duster in her hand, 
 u you're the prettiest woman I ever saw." 
 
 " Stephen, are you crazy ? " she said rather 
 pettishly ; " and why didn't you wipe your feet ? 
 You are tracking up my clean hall." 
 
 " You're out of sorts, Bess ; you find the 
 house lonely without the boy." 
 
 She hung her head without speaking. She 
 had started out with the intention of bearing 
 her loss bravely while it should last, and she 
 was not yet willing to give in. 
 
 " I'm hungry," said the sergeant unexpect- 
 edly ; "can't I have some more breakfast?" 
 
 In a trice her white head was held up again. 
 " Why, Stephen, you had your breakfast at the 
 railway station." 
 
 " Well, suppose I did can't I have some 
 more ? " 
 
 " Oh ! certainly, if you wish it," she returned, 
 eying him in a kind of uneasy surprise ; "but 
 you ate so much." 
 
 "It's pretty hard if a man can't have all he 
 wants to eat in his own house," said the ser- 
 geant, and then he began to sing, 
 
THE RETURN. 217 
 
 " I can't get 'em up, 
 
 I can't get 'em up. 
 I can't get 'em up in the morning. 
 
 I can't get 'em up, 
 
 I can't get 'em up, 
 I can't get 'em up at all." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy stared at him. She did not in the 
 least understand this sudden jocularity of mood. 
 
 The sergeant, nothing daunted by her expres- 
 sion, allowed his spirits to rise higher and 
 higher, and continued, - 
 
 " The captain's worse than the sergeant; 
 The sergeant's worse than the corp'ral; 
 The corp'ral's worse than the private; 
 But the major's the worst of all." 
 
 " Stephen," said Mrs. Hardy tearfully, " I 
 don't think it's kind of you to sing that." 
 
 u Why not, my dear? why not?" 
 
 " Because you know why." 
 
 " Because I used to sing it every morning 
 when the boy was here. Well, I just want 
 to remind you of him, to keep you from for- 
 getting, as it were. You think he is coming 
 back, don't you?" 
 
 " Ye-e-s," and she reluctantly uttered the 
 
218 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 word ; " but, O Stephen ! I don't want to 
 wait." 
 
 " It isn't necessary. You sha'n't wait," vocif- 
 erated the sergeant, roaming about the room. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy was just about to lose her com- 
 posure, and throw herself miserably into a 
 chair; but at his words a puzzled, almost fear- 
 ful, expression came over her face, and in 
 tremulous haste she hurried to the pantry, 
 and busied herself in preparing the extra 
 meal that he had demanded. 
 
 "His grandfather died in a lunatic asylum," 
 she murmured, as her shaking hand dropped 
 tea instead of coffee into the coffee-pot. " Is 
 it possible that his mind is getting affected ? 
 He sha'n't be worried into it, anyway," she 
 went on, bravely dashing aside a tear ; and 
 her fingers fairly flew, as she cut slices of 
 cold meat and buttered some rolls. " He 
 shall have what he wants." 
 
 In a very few minutes the sergeant was 
 bidden to seat himself before his second break- 
 fast. " Now call the boy," he exclaimed, " as 
 you always do before we get seated." 
 
THE RETURN. 219 
 
 u My dear husband, let us not refer to 
 him," said Mrs. Hardy very slowly and sooth- 
 ingly ; "don't you know he is not here?" 
 
 "Let's go through the form, anyway," said 
 the sergeant, smiting the table until the dishes 
 rattled. " Let's go through with it for the 
 sake of old times and the times that are to 
 come ; " and leaping up he took her hand in 
 his, and jogged merrily down the hall. 
 
 "I'll go with you, Stephen," said his wife, 
 with quiet yet increasing uneasiness ; " but 
 don't hurry, there's plenty of time." 
 
 " Yes, there's plenty of time," whispered 
 her husband, and to her further anxiety he 
 became mysterious and subdued ; " hush, now, 
 if he was here we might wake him ; " and he 
 tiptoed cautiously into the room. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy kept close to his side, her 
 troubled attention riveted on him, until she 
 stumbled over a pair of muddy boots. 
 
 Then she lifted up her eyes. There on the 
 back of a chair was a coat with brass but- 
 tons, and there in the white bed was a sleep- 
 ing boy. 
 
220 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 With a cry like that of a mother-bird kept 
 from her young she flew to the bed, and the 
 released and misunderstood sergeant now left 
 to his own devices capered clumsily about the 
 room. 
 
 When Eugene waked from sleep, and saw 
 the white head and eager face of his adopted 
 mother bending over him, his first drowsy ex- 
 clamations were in French ; then he broke 
 into English. " Mrs. Hardy," he cried, "I 
 was dreaming of you ; " and he raised himself, 
 and threw his arms around her neck. 
 
 The sergeant heard his wife's exclamation, 
 " My treasure ! I knew you would come back." 
 And he also heard Eugene's clear, ringing 
 sentence, " Mother ! mother ! I have not said 
 it before, except to the king of the park, but 
 I will call you that now to all the world ! " 
 At this latter assurance the sergeant's ca- 
 pering ceased, and he walked soberly to the 
 window. 
 
 " Bother these women, they are always cry- 
 ing," he observed with what he meant to be 
 an infinity of pity and indulgence. Then he 
 
THE RETURN. 221 
 
 drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and 
 gently touched up the corners of his eyes. A 
 minute later he was just about to turn around, 
 when he found it necessary to go through the 
 same operation again. For a number of times 
 his handkerchief went from his pocket to his 
 eyes, until he said with impatience, "I don't 
 care if they do see me ; " and marched to the 
 bed. 
 
 " Son," he remarked, " I am glad to see 
 you back." 
 
 Eugene was sitting up in the bed, looking 
 slimmer than ever in his white nightgown. 
 " Will you take me for your child ? " he asked 
 wistfully. " If you will, though I am but a 
 Dauper, I shall feel like a prince." 
 
 " We'll take you," said the sergeant, winking 
 rapidly, " prince or pauper or whatever you 
 like to be." 
 
 " I was never happy until I came to you," 
 said Eugene ; " and I shall never be happy 
 away from you I feel that." 
 
 " Boy," said the sergeant, " it isn't your fault 
 that you were a bit cantankerous. You were 
 
222 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 brought up wrong. I wonder the Lord lets 
 some people have children. They don't know 
 how to train 'em, and yet it's a hard thing to 
 do. I hear a lot of talk nowadays about the 
 perfectibility of human nature, but I don't see 
 much of it in my profession. Show me a baby 
 boy, and I say there's a bad one. Show me .a 
 baby girl, and I say there's one not quite so 
 bad. They've got to be drilled. Before I got 
 to be as good even as I am now, my old father 
 had to wallop me, and my mother had to pray 
 and cry over me without ceasing. We're born 
 bad that's my doctrine; and we're put here to 
 improve our natures, so that we may be fit to 
 live in another world by and by." 
 
 "I like those words," said Eugene thought- 
 fully; "and I believe them now, though once 
 I would not have thought there was truth in 
 them." 
 
 " I guess they're sound," said the sergeant ; 
 44 and though we're not perfect, wife and I, 
 we'll try to teach you a few good things." 
 
 " Oh ! I have so much to tell you," said Eu- 
 gene, kissing Mrs. Hardy's hands, and folding 
 
THE RETURN. 223 
 
 them to his breast, " so much. It seems a year 
 since I left. I must tell you of New York, 
 and how the poor cur4 was disturbed." 
 
 " Get up and dress," said the sergeant, " and 
 come outside and talk to us. There's some 
 breakfast for you there. I looked out for 
 that," and putting his arm around his wife's 
 waist he drew her from the room. 
 
 "I've just fifteen minutes before I go to 
 the park," he cried, "I hope the little fellow 
 will hurry." 
 
 " He will," said Mrs. Hardy. " Oh, thank 
 God that we have him back again ! " 
 
 "There's a lot of comfort in children," said 
 the sergeant, "if you take them the right 
 way ; and I often wonder what the state of 
 mind of real parents is like when a body can 
 get so fond of children that don't belong to 
 him. Bess, we'll try to bring that bairn up 
 in the right way, and when we're gone we 
 won't feel that we've left no one behind us 
 in the world." 
 
224 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 It is yet rather early in the day to predict 
 Eugene's future, as he has only been a few 
 months with the Hardys. 
 
 He is still a pale, elegant lad with courteous 
 manners, and he enjoys to the full the country 
 life that the Hardys are now living ; for the 
 aunt died soon after his return, and left to his 
 adopted parents a comfortable house situated 
 some miles out of Boston. 
 
 The sergeant has resigned from the police 
 force, and the city cares for the cats; though 
 every week the sergeant and Eugene ride in, 
 the former on a stately chestnut horse, and the 
 latter on a beautiful pony, to pay a visit to the 
 park, where they are eagerly welcomed by 
 the king and his subjects. 
 
 On these weekly visits Eugene often calls on 
 the Mannings, and is rapturously welcomed by 
 Virgie; but whether he goes there or not, he 
 never fails to seek the spot where the bust of 
 John Boyle O'Reilly looks toward the city. 
 He always remains before it for a long time. 
 His childish love for his emperor will never die 
 away ; but it is broadening now, and he is tak- 
 
THE RETURN. 225 
 
 ing into his affections the heroes of his adopted 
 country. 
 
 The sergeant invariably takes him a round 
 of the public buildings and monuments of the 
 city. Eugene's face flashes as he follows the 
 sergeant's lead, and reins in his black pony near 
 the colossal statue of Washington on his horse, 
 or gazes at the noble, manly Lincoln standing 
 over the freed slave. He loves also the Sol- 
 diers' and Sailors' Monument on the Common, 
 where his favorite figure is the Federal in- 
 fantryman standing at ease. 
 
 The sergeant likes best the figure of peace on 
 this monument, the woman bearing the olive- 
 branch, and having her eyes toward the South. 
 
 One day not long ago, when they were stand- 
 ing before this monument, Eugene said, " I may 
 not be a soldier when I am grown up; but if 
 this country should need me, I will serve it 
 till I die." 
 
 " That's right," observed the sergeant, " if 
 you are a good honest citizen, respecting your- 
 self and the rights of others, and trying to keep 
 a clear record, you'll be doing as good service 
 
226 THE KING OF THE PARK. 
 
 in the world as if you were running about with 
 a sword or a gun in your hand to pick a 
 quarrel." 
 
 "But suppose one just had to fight," said the 
 boy earnestly, " suppose one could not get out 
 of it." 
 
 " Get out of it, get out of it," said the ser- 
 geant with a chuckle, " and always get out of 
 it ; but if you can't, and just have to fight, 
 as you say, then fight well." 
 
YC 50107