SUNSHINE 
 BEGGARS 
 
 SIDNEY M

 
 SUNSHINE BEGGARS
 
 TRUTH DEXTER 
 
 RED HORSE HILL 
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 THE DRAGON PAINTER 
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 THE STIRRUP LATCH 
 
 SUNSHINE BEGGARS
 
 
 What is went wrong with you, dearie? ' : 
 FRONTISPIECE. See page 4.
 
 BY 
 
 SIDNEY McCALL 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 WILLIAM VAN DRESSER 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 1918
 
 Copyright, 1918, 
 BY LITTLE, BHOWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Published, February, 1918 
 
 VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY 
 
 INBHAHTON AND NIW YOU 
 U. S. A.
 
 URL ' 
 SRLF 
 
 TO 
 SARAH ELIZABETH BISLAND
 
 ACKNOWLEDGMENT 
 
 The quotations on page one hundred and forty- 
 eight are from Katharine Tynan Hinkson's beautiful 
 poem, " Sheep and Lambs " in The Oxford Book of 
 English Verse.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I THE HOUSEBOAT 1 
 
 II LADDIE'S ISLAND 15 
 
 III ON BIBLE KOAD 27 
 
 IV ANNUNCIATA 35 
 
 V THE BEETOLLOTTIS SET UP HOUSEKEEP- 
 ING 46 
 
 VI PHILOMEL GIVES A PROMISE .... 60 
 
 VII ANNUNCIATA'S SECRET 75 
 
 VIII BREAKFAST WITH MA COMFORT ... 85 
 
 IX PHIL Is PUT INTO HARNESS .... 99 
 
 X A BROKEN BRANCH 108 
 
 XI SAINT CRISTOFO'S FERRY . . . . .119 
 
 XII SEEDTIME 127 
 
 XIII PHIL'S FIRST SUNDAY IN KINGTQN . . 139 
 
 XIV A " BLUE MONDAY " SERMON .... 151 
 XV GROWING TIME 163 
 
 XVI THE WATER-GARDEN 173 
 
 XVII THE LITTLE HOUSE IN BIBLE KOAD . . 184 
 XVIII CRISTOFO'S PROMISE Is KEPT .... 196 
 
 XIX ANNUNCIATA AND " THE GOOD KIND MRS. 
 
 HOPKINS " 207 
 
 XX PHIL'S PUNISHMENT BEGINS .... 219 
 XXI THE DARKEST HOUR . 230
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXII THE DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAT . . .242 
 
 XXIII PA GIDDINGS REMEMBERS A FRIEND . 254 
 
 XXIV PHILOMEL FINDS A " REAL " MOTHER . 268 
 XXV IN WHICH CONSTANTIA GETS EVEN . . 285 
 
 FINALE , . 300
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 4 ' What is went wrong with you, dearie ? ' ] 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 She saw that the Bertollottis had paused in 
 
 their eating to watch her .... Page 59 
 
 Phil crouched to the crack of the door . ' ' 235 
 
 "Come, Mother, real Mother, let's 
 
 run! " " 284
 
 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 THE HOUSEBOAT 
 
 "T TOLY Cats! What's that comin' ! " ex- 
 
 JL A claimed old John Giddings, so startled that 
 half of a poised mouthful of beans scattered down to 
 his plate. 
 
 His fork fell with a bang. John jumped to his 
 feet, and peered out through a curtained window not 
 much larger than a big school geography. 
 
 Mrs. Giddings immediately followed, moving 
 more slowly, for the good Mrs. Giddings was not 
 thin, and fitted her kindly, pink face into the 
 square of a similar window, not six feet away. 
 
 What they saw was a slender, childish figure. It 
 wore a full short frock of black and white gingham, 
 and over this had been drawn a sweater of dull red, 
 which was scant as if from many washings. A red 
 cap to match was hung to one side of a bright blond 
 head. The thin little legs were in white stockings; 
 and rather worn shoes covered the swift flying feet. 
 
 Beside the sobbing girl leaped and bounded a great 
 collie dog. Both were racing down the high pier as 
 though nothing could stop them. 
 
 The room in which Mr. and Mrs. Giddings had
 
 2 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 been peacefully eating their midday dinner was the 
 cabin of John's old river boat, The Comfort, now 
 beached, and for further precautions tied by ropes to 
 a long-legged wooden pier. 
 
 The entire establishment still shivered and rattled 
 to the echo of footsteps on the planks at its side. 
 
 " Jumpin' Jupiter ! " cried John, and dashed for 
 the door. " The whole two of 'em '11 be over in the 
 water ! " 
 
 " Oh, don't let 'em," protested Mrs. Giddings, 
 pushing past her husband, and running to the tiny 
 front deck that served her for a porch. " They 
 mustn't! Oh, they're most to the end. That must 
 be a mad dog that's chasin' her." 
 
 " No, that dog don't yelp mad, and the little gal 
 ain't none scared of him, neether. But somethin' 
 is wrong. No child o' God, in this Christian land's 
 got a right to be cryin' like that." 
 
 Mrs. Giddings' plump hands clasped as if in 
 prayer. Her lips quivered. In another moment, she 
 too might have been weeping when, all at once, her 
 face brightened, and she exclaimed, " It's all right, 
 John! Thank Heaven for its mercies! She won't 
 git to the water now. She's fell down on the planks." 
 
 Even as the watcher spoke, the slim, young figure 
 at the end of the wharf leaned over, balanced itself 
 for a heart-catching instant above the waves and then, 
 drawing back, flung itself face downwards on the 
 boards. 
 
 The great tawny collie, amazed at this sudden check 
 to what he thought a merry game, stood looking down
 
 THE HOUSEBOAT 3 
 
 at his mistress, his huge yellow tail at half-mast with 
 perplexity. Now he began nosing about her hair and 
 her hidden cheek, but no response was given. This 
 was beyond endurance. Something must be very, 
 very wrong. He turned his slender, aristocratic 
 face toward the shore for help, and seeing old John 
 and Ma Giddings, knew in his loyal dog-heart that 
 he had found it. 
 
 " Yowp ! Yowp ! " he halloed. 
 
 " I'm a-comin'. I was comin' anyhow," Ma 
 called back to him. In slippered feet she climbed 
 the four tiny steps leading from the floor of the deck 
 to the pier above. It swayed and shuddered alarm- 
 ingly. Mrs. Giddings always moved easily, and 
 even with a certain grace, in spite of her wide hips 
 and rounded shoulders, but no one could deny to Ma 
 an unusually substantial tread. 
 
 " Yowp ! Yowp ! " repeated the collie, now in 
 welcoming delight. His fox brush of a tail com- 
 menced signaling like the arms of a sailor in the 
 rigging, as he talks from one distant ship to another. 
 Again the dog bent down to nose and paw his mis- 
 tress. He was striving, oh, so hard, to tell her that 
 a human friend was approaching. 
 
 For a moment the convulsed child ignored him. 
 She even pushed him away. Then suddenly, fling- 
 ing both arms around his neck, she dragged him 
 down beside her to the boards, crying out names of 
 endearment, and covering his shaggy, white throat, 
 his ears, and his long, lean cheeks with kisses. 
 
 " They shan't hurt you, Laddie ! " her vibrating
 
 4 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 voice rang out. " I don't care what you did. No- 
 body shall touch you." 
 
 Ma deliberately slackened her pace to listen. 
 
 " If anybody follows us and tries to kill you, Lad- 
 die, I'll push them over in the river here and drown 
 them. I don't care if I die for it. You shan't be 
 shot. You're my dog my dog ! " A fresh tor- 
 rent of tears, followed by the distressing long, dry 
 sobs, made her further words inaudible. 
 
 Ma's head went up. A snort of defiance accom- 
 panied the gesture. " So that's it. Somebody's 
 threatenin' to kill the dog. Well, jest let 'em try 
 it ! that's what I'm sayin' ; let 'em try it, with me 
 an 7 Pa standin' 'round." 
 
 Just behind Mrs. Giddings came the old oyster 
 man, her husband. He was forcing himself to walk 
 slowly, for something told him that it was his wife's 
 part to reach the prostrate figure first. 
 
 " Now, dearie, you mustn't cry like that," began 
 the good woman, as rather heavily she lowered her 
 comfortable, stout body to its knees, and, leaning 
 over, patted a thin shoulder. " Try to set up an' 
 stop that turrible sobbin'. It jest tears poor Granny 
 Giddin's' heart to hear a little girl cryin' so desper- 
 ate as you is. Set up a mite, dearie. Here, 
 Granny's arm is under you. Let her wipe the poor, 
 hot forehead. Why, your pretty gold hair is all 
 stuck to your cheeks, an' in your eyes tight as cracks 
 in a soup plate. There there. Now I can see 
 your darlin' little face. What is went wrong with 
 you. dearie ? "
 
 THE HOUSEBOAT 5 
 
 " She's she's going to kill iny dog. She's go- 
 ing to have Laddie shot. She said so. I can't bear 
 it." The speaker quivered from head to foot, yet 
 it could be seen that she was making a brave effort 
 to keep back a new outburst of weeping. 
 
 " An' who's she, little girl ? " came the swift query. 
 
 " She's my horrid old stepmother. Oh, she's 
 mean ! " cried the child. 
 
 " An' what mout be your stepmother's name ? " 
 demanded Mrs. Giddings with great eagerness. 
 
 But, before the stranger could reply, old John, 
 stooping down, gave his wife a quick tap on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 She looked up to meet a warning glance. The 
 oyster man shook his head disapprovingly. Ma 
 knew what he meant, that it was no time to press 
 an hysterical child with questions. 
 
 John Giddings' eyes had the far blue look of dis- 
 tant water. His thin, wrinkled face was not unlike 
 a beach of corrugated sands. There was no line in 
 that weatherbeaten countenance that was not a line 
 of kindliness. His deepest wrinkles were dry river- 
 beds of smiles. 
 
 After awhile the little girl, hearing no voices, 
 looked up from Laddie's tousled fur. As it chanced, 
 she met fairly the old sailor's peaceful gaze. She 
 stared at him for a long moment. She had never 
 seen such sea-blue eyes before. 
 
 Ma Giddings put out a caressing hand, and 
 straightened the red tam-o' shanter. 
 
 The child now sat up and looked wonderingly
 
 6 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 about. Whatever lash and scourge of personal grief 
 had driven her to the water's edge, this fact re- 
 mained, that for the first time in all of her life, she 
 was looking upon the sea. 
 
 " What what is it ! " she asked of John breath- 
 lessly. " I never saw a river that was so big and 
 round, and had white edges." 
 
 " This ain't no river," smiled John. " It's a bay. 
 As a matter o' fact, they is a big shiny river runs 
 into it a mile down the beach. But what you is 
 lookin' on now is Hope Bay, a piece bit out o' the 
 side o' the Atlantic." 
 
 " Oh, I remember," exclaimed the little girl, " I've 
 studied all about the Atlantic ocean, and the Pacific 
 one too. But I didn't know I hadn't expected 
 all of a sudden like this " she flung her hands out 
 toward the exquisite picture. Its beauty deprived 
 her of speech. 
 
 John nodded in sympathy. " It mus' be a queer 
 feelin' a feel in' as if your heart was drownin' in 
 wonderment, to look on the big water for the fust 
 time. I was born on it, so there never was no fust 
 time for me." 
 
 " But now," he continued in a more practical 
 tone, " jest you an' Laddie git up offer them hard 
 planks. Ma Giddin's an' me want you to come 
 make us a visit in our house. That's our house," he 
 explained, pointing, not without pride, to the boat, 
 which under its many coatings of snowy paint 
 gleamed with the clear whiteness of porcelain. The 
 doors and the tiny square blinds were all of a vivid
 
 THE HOUSEBOAT 7 
 
 green, the color that all blinds should be, and the 
 rail of the small front deck was outlined with flower 
 boxes in which crowded and drooped plants of ver- 
 bena, petunia, nasturtium, and grass pinks. None 
 of these was even in bud as yet for, though May 
 was near, the April winds off Hope Bay could be 
 chilly. 
 
 Overhead, from the outer edge of the roof, swung 
 five big turtle shells filled with mosses and ferns 
 brought by Ma from the woods. 
 
 For the present, and until the spring showers and 
 sunshine were to set all of the boxes to blooming, 
 the Giddings' odd little home showed a cool harmony 
 of green and white. 
 
 Toward it the group of three now moved slowly, 
 Mrs. Giddings talking incessantly. Her young 
 companion, turning around for a new look at the 
 Bay, unconsciously shivered. Ma put out a plump 
 warm arm, and drew her protectingly close. 
 
 " Them sea winds is sharp yit," Mrs. Giddings 
 remarked in a tone of apology. " But what might 
 be your name, little Miss; you ain't told us so 
 far?" 
 
 " My name is Phil Merrill," was the reply, and 
 from her manner and speech, Ma knew instantly that 
 she had been " brung up all right." 
 
 Mrs. Giddings and Pa flashed a look of glad un- 
 derstanding over the tumbled yellow head, and Ma 
 cried, " Jest to think of it ! Dear Doctor Merrill's 
 little girl! I had heard you was expected home to 
 Kington, Miss Phil. I seen it in the Kington Bugle-
 
 8 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Clarion last week, when they printed the notice of 
 jour poor Grandma's " 
 
 A choking sound from John caused Mrs. Giddings 
 to bite off the sinister word " death " as if it were an 
 icicle, and rush in with the new question : " An' 
 tell us, dearie, when did you git to Kington ? " 
 
 " Oh, yesterday, I b'lieve; no, it was the day be- 
 fore yesterday. I hated to come." 
 
 " But warn't it fine," put in old John cheerily, 
 "that you could bring this dog o' yourn with you? 
 I ain't never seen a handsomer one." 
 
 "It was all I could bring all they'd let me," 
 Phil answered drearily. " I wanted Cousin "Betty, 
 and Mammy, and 'Lijah, and yes, and Grandma 
 too, my poor Grandma what's dead. Of course I 
 knew she couldn't come. She was terribly old, 
 Grandma was ; she just sat in her chair, reading the 
 Bible and mending things. She was too deaf to hear 
 even when you screamed at her, so we had to write 
 down all we said on a slate. Grandma says that I 
 -am going to have the handwriting of a gentlewoman." 
 
 " I ain't got no manner o' doubt of it, is you, 
 John ? " returned Mrs. Giddings agreeably. " But 
 if Grandma was deef, like you say, who was runnin' 
 the house ? " 
 
 " Oh, just me and Laddie, and Cousin Betty, and 
 the servants." 
 
 " And who was Cousin Betty ? " shot from Ma, 
 as swift as a pith-ball from a popgun. 
 
 " She was my teacher my governess, I mean. 
 I loved her lots, but not as much as Laddie.
 
 THE HOUSEBOAT 9 
 
 wanted to bring her to Kington with me, and I 
 wanted Mammy Jane and 'Lijah." 
 
 " 'Lijah! " echoed Ma to whom the name brought 
 visions of a Bible patriarch followed by a flock of 
 ravens, each with a basket of modern delicacies in 
 its charitable beak. Even John looked a little curi- 
 ous. 
 
 "Why, yes, 'Lijah," the child repeated. "He's 
 Mammy Jane's boy that she's always going to bust 
 open with a flatiron." 
 
 Ma stood perfectly still. She began to quiver like 
 a jelly when the table is shaken. Horror overspread 
 her pleasant countenance. 
 
 " Bust open," she gasped. " Bust open her own 
 child!" 
 
 "Of course she didn't really do it," explained 
 Philomel, and for the first time a smile flashed into 
 her eyes. It was as if vivid green grass had sprung 
 up where a moment before it had been brown and 
 dead. 
 
 " She never even thinks she is going to bust him 
 open," added Phil, " she only has to keep on saying 
 it to make 'Lijah mind. He's awful trifling, 'Lijah 
 is." 
 
 "Well, rip my seams!" ejaculated Pa. 
 
 But Mrs. Giddings shook herself a little impa- 
 tiently. She felt that quite sufficient interest, not 
 to mention time, had already been given to the 
 dusky and distant Elijah. 
 
 " Then you've come back to Kington for good and 
 all, Miss Phil?"
 
 10 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " I reckon I have," the small girl answered mourn- 
 fully. " Doctor Burton and Cousin Betty said there 
 wasn't any other place for me to go to. Doctor Bur- 
 ton was our minister," she explained quickly, before 
 Ma could thrust in the inevitable query : " And 
 who is Doctor Burton ? " 
 
 Ma winced, and, seeing the amusement in her 
 husband's blue eyes, threw up her chin defiantly. 
 
 Fortunately for the good woman's curiosity, Phil 
 went on without further prodding. " It was Doc- 
 tor Burton who wrote to my mother here in Kington 
 to my stepmother, I mean," she corrected herself, 
 a black frown driving the little smile away, " to 
 ask her if I could bring Laddie. At first she 
 said I couldn't. She didn't like dogs, and she 
 was afraid that Laddie would bite my brother 
 Edgar." 
 
 " Then how come he's here ? " Mrs. Giddings ven- 
 tured to ask. 
 
 " It's because, when they told me, I cried so much 
 that I got sick, and Doctor Burton and Cousin Betty 
 wrote to her again, and said it was an absolute ner- 
 ceserty for me to have Laddie." 
 
 " An' I think as much ! " bridled Ma, in warm 
 indignation. " Jest the idee of it, John. Them 
 Merrills' wantin' to hold back her dog from this 
 poor lonely lamb with her Grandma not cold in 
 her grave, and the child all tore up in her move to 
 new quarters. Those folks ought to be well," she 
 broke off, before the husband could check her, " I 
 'spose I shouldn't ought to be sayin' sech things 'fore
 
 THE HOUSEBOAT 11 
 
 the child, but I know you feels the same, jest as I 
 do, now don't you, husband John ? " 
 
 But the old sailonnan did not speak. He left 
 most of that to his wife. His kind eyes looked out 
 over the water. Beyond the bright waves he was 
 seeing a picture so old that all the world knows it, 
 yet having a quite new meaning to him now, with 
 the small tear-stained face at his side. 
 
 It was a beautiful figure in white flowing robes, 
 leaning down to a group of wayside children. 
 " Whosoever offends one of these," He had said. 
 
 " That must be a nice man, that Doctor Brayton 
 o' yours/' Ma suggested. 
 
 " Not Brayton, Burton," corrected Phil. " Yes, 
 he is nice, though he preached awful long sermons. 
 He brought me to Kington himself. Him and me 
 put Laddie in the baggage car, and every time the 
 train stopped even for a minute, I would run back 
 to Laddie and give him some water and sand- 
 wiches." 
 
 By this time the small party had reached the top 
 of the absurd, delightful little stairs that led down 
 to the deck. 
 
 Ma caught both handrails and began the descent. 
 " Come on down, all of you, includin' Laddie," she 
 commanded. " Pa's got to finish his dinner. He 
 only got two bites when we was startled out of eatin' 
 by a herd o' young rhonicerouses stampedin' along 
 our pier. Have you had your dinner yit, Miss 
 Phil?" 
 
 " Yes no. I don't remember, there was so
 
 12 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 much fuss. Yes'm, I do remember now, I've had 
 it. I hate my stepmother's cooking." 
 
 " Then you come right along down here, an' have 
 a bite with Pa. I never yit saw a child that couldn't 
 eat in a strange place, or a dog that wasn't ready for 
 a bone. 
 
 " Jest look at that," Ma continued delightedly, 
 pointing to a transformed and eager Laddie. " He 
 knows jest as well as us humans when I says ' bone.' 
 Bone, Laddie, bone. Here, don't tear me to pieces, 
 or push me down my own steps. I've got a bone 
 for you, but you must wait till I gets to it. He 
 certainly is a smart critter." 
 
 At this fateful moment, the " critter " in a fren- 
 zied hurry for his bone (his rations at Mrs. Merrill's 
 had been scanty), and impatient, no doubt, at the 
 slowness of Mrs. Giddings' descent, proved himself 
 almost a trifle too smart. 
 
 With his delicate head high in air, Laddie meas- 
 ured the distance. At a single light spring, he 
 leaped clear down over the good lady, struck all four 
 feet at once in the center of the deck, and wheeling 
 about, emitted shrill yelpings and short barks, as 
 if trying to say, " Hurry up oh, you giver of 
 "bones. Don't be so ridiculously slow." 
 
 Phil laughed loudly in delight at the picture. 
 " Oh, isn't he too lovely ! " she exclaimed, clasping 
 her hands. "Just look at him! I know he must 
 be the most beautifulest dog in the whole world. Do 
 you see those little black tips to his ears, Mr. Gid- 
 dings ? And the round black spot on his forehead ? "
 
 THE HOUSEBOAT 13 
 
 " Yes," answered Pa. " They're kinder queer- 
 lookin' spots. I already noticed 'em." 
 
 " That's from the way Laddie got them. Do you 
 know how he got them, Mr. Giddings ? " 
 
 " No," rejoined the old man rather slowly. 
 " Does you ? " 
 
 "Yes that is 'Lijah knows. 'Lijah told me 
 that when Laddie was a puppy, before I got him, he 
 met a little black baby in the woods. The little black 
 boy caught Laddie and kissed him right where you 
 see the spots, and as the Lord had just finished the 
 baby, its nigger-paint wasn't dry. At least, that is 
 what 'Lijah says." 
 
 " For goodness' sakes ! " exclaimed Pa, staring 
 down with flattering intentness. " Who ever'd have 
 guessed it ? I say, little friend," he went on, turn- 
 ing his eyes with some effort from Laddie's myste- 
 riously marked countenance to that of his smiling 
 young mistress, " that black boy o' yourn that Eli- 
 jah he must know a whole passel o' things." 
 
 " Oh, he does ; 'Lijah does," Philomel sparkled. 
 " And specially about all kinds of animals. He 
 calls them ' de yannimuls,' just like that, 'Lijah does. 
 He's got an old terrapin that's so tame that when 
 'Lijah stoops down to its cave and calls ' Turkic, Sis 
 Turkic, rise up,' you can put your ear down to the 
 hole, and far, far away, right down in the middle 
 of the earth, you can hear old Sis Turkic begin claw- 
 ing the dirt." 
 
 " Well, bust my binnacle," murmured Pa ; " an' 
 do she ever come up ? "
 
 14 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Do she ever! " scoffed Phil. " She do always! 
 Then me and 'Lijah scratches her old back with a 
 stick, and gives her some corn bread, and she likes 
 it." 
 
 Pa Giddings was now speechless. 
 
 " He can tame birds too, 'Lijah can," pursued 
 Phil, highly pleased with the effect she was pro- 
 ducing. "He tames them as easy! There's a 
 mocking bird always following him around. 'Lijah 
 taught him some tunes, ' Yankee Doodle ' and 
 t Dixie.' The bird whistles them all of the week, 
 but on Sundays " 
 
 Phil paused. The old man sat down on the pier 
 somewhat abruptly. 
 
 " Go on, keep right on," he said faintly. " I kin 
 stan' most anythin' now." 
 
 " Well, 'Lijah says," Phil continued, " of course 
 I haven't heard this part my own self, that his mock- 
 ing bird is a sancterfied bird, and wants to jine the 
 Foot-washing Baptists like Mammy and 'Lijah. So 
 on Sundays he won't whistle tunes only hymns. 
 ' I want to be a nangel ' is his favorite, 'Lijah says." 
 
 A low sound, almost a moan, came up from the 
 lowermost stair. 
 
 Ma Giddings arose to her feet. " Come in, Lad- 
 die, come, good doggie," she said in an awe-stricken 
 voice. " Atter that we both of us needs some re- 
 freshmint."
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 LADDIE'S ISLAND 
 
 MRS. GIDDINGS, hard-pressed and impeded 
 by the ecstatically wriggling Laddie, finally 
 managed to squeeze him and herself into the cabin 
 door. 
 
 Pa still sat on the pier, his long corduroy legs 
 hanging down over the front steps, as Ma persisted 
 in calling them, though in fact they belong as much 
 to one side of the deck as one's ear to the side of 
 one's head. 
 
 Philomel remained standing. All of the bright- 
 ness had left her face, and John heard a deep deso- 
 late sigh. 
 
 " My stepmother said they might kill him, that 
 they might have to shoot my Laddie. If Edgar is 
 badly hurt, the doctor would do it because I b'lieve 
 he has a gun just for shooting dogs that have bit 
 children." 
 
 The words were spoken aloud but not so much, it 
 would seem, to Phil's companion, as to her own ter- 
 rified self. 
 
 John put out one hand, and drew the staring child 
 closer. 
 
 " Now you listen to me, little friend," he began, 
 speaking slowly and tenderly. u That father o*
 
 16 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 yourn, Doctor Merrill, was one of the best friends 
 me an' Ma ever had in all our lives. He treated us, 
 and he tended us, and the one thing he said me nay 
 to was sendin' me bills. It wasn't jest an accident 
 that brought you and Laddie to this old wharf to- 
 day. You was meant to come to-day, jest as I was 
 meant to look out for you and Laddie, and to take 
 keer o' Laddie, 'till the rookus at your Ma's house 
 has settled down." 
 
 " She says he must never put his foot in her yard 
 again," Phil broke out. "And that if Edgar is 
 badly hurt, and the doctor says so, Laddie must be 
 shot. Even if you shut Laddie up in your little 
 house, you couldn't do anything if the doctor came 
 after him with a gun," she went on, with one of her 
 infrequent gleams of what Cousin Betty called 
 " commonsensicality." 
 
 " That's true enough, and you're a mighty smart 
 little gal to figger it all out. How old is you, little 
 Miss ? " he interrupted himself to ask. 
 
 " I'm ten, going on to eleven," Phil replied primly. 
 The word eleven was spoken with an air of mention- 
 ing extreme age. 
 
 " It's amazin' how the years do creep over us," 
 commented Pa Giddings gravely. "But as we was 
 plannin' about Laddie. Our house is too small for 
 him. Any house is too small, for he would git to 
 howlin' and give his hidin' place away." 
 
 " Yes," sighed Philomel, " he does howl. What 
 are we to do ? " 
 
 Old John drew himself upright. " This is what
 
 LADDIE'S ISLAND 17 
 
 we are to do. Here, Miss Phil, put your head down 
 alongside o' mine." 
 
 In utter astonishment the child obeyed. 
 
 " Now squint right a-down this narrow pier," Pa 
 ordered. 
 
 " I'm squinting," Phil declared. 
 
 " Now 'sposin' you shot a marble straight away, 
 and it kep' goin' for about a mile, what would it 
 hit ? " 
 
 " Why, it ought to hit that little round bunch of 
 green bushes sticking up out of the water." 
 
 John chuckled. " That bunch o' bushes is a tidy 
 bit of a island, with a good broad beach, a spring o' 
 sweet water, and a lean-to of a duck-shooter's lodge. 
 It's my island," he added impressively. 
 
 Phil was prepared to believe most things that 
 grown-ups told her, but this was going too far. The 
 look she lifted to her companion's face was more 
 than doubtful. 
 
 "It's true," insisted John. "It's my own prop- 
 erty, bought off our gover'mint five and thirty years 
 ago." 
 
 " A whole island," whispered Philomel to herself. 
 Then eagerly, " Is it a treasure island ? " 
 
 The old man smiled. 'All islands is treasure 
 islands if a pusson knows where to dig. To be hon- 
 est," he went on, " I ain't never done any diggin' to 
 speak of over there. I only used it for shootin' 
 ducks, and for ten years o' more, I've stopped that 
 sport, on account of not bein' willin' to kill them 
 when they was enjoyin' life. But it begins to come
 
 18 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 to me now that maybe you and me an' Laddie is yet 
 to discover treasure on GiddinV Island." 
 
 " Oh, is that the name of it ? " asked Phil, looking 
 disappointed. 
 
 " Not fancy enough fer a treasure place ? " re- 
 marked John. " Well, now what do you say to 
 Laddie's Island?" 
 
 "Laddie's Island," the child repeated. Pa Gid- 
 dings' eyes were dancing. Each one of his thou- 
 sand wrinkles ran with molten smiles. In a flash 
 his meaning came to her. She cried again, this 
 time with delight, " Laddie's Island ! Then you will 
 take him over there. " 
 
 John nodded. 
 
 " Oh oh will you take me too, " 
 
 " Not the first time, Miss Phil. He might try to 
 follow you in the water an' get drownded. I'd bet- 
 ter carry him over alone to-day. You can be sure 
 he'll get plenty o' food stuff. That's Ma's one joy 
 in this earthly life, stuffin' man an' beast with 
 more vittles than they can reasonably hold. But it 
 makes Ma happy, so I let myself get stuffed." 
 
 " That's what 'Lijah used to do," confided Philo- 
 mel. u He stuffed and stuffed, until Mammy Jane 
 said she could hear his skin begin to split. Ma Gid- 
 dings would have liked 'Lijah, wouldn't she ? " 
 
 " Most certain sure she would," admitted Pa, his 
 blue eyes twinkling. "Well, now," he observed in 
 a practical tone, " sence all o' the arrangements is 
 tidied up for Laddie, 'spose we be steppin' down to 
 the house, to save Ma the trouble of hollerin' for us."
 
 LADDIE'S ISLAND 19 
 
 Phil smiled and nodded. The old sailor rose a 
 little stiffly from his hard seat. " I've been pon- 
 derin'," he remarked, " what it was that Laddie 
 done, anyway, to make folks want to harm him." 
 
 " He didn't do a thing but snap at Edgar," cried 
 Phil protestingly. " I don't believe he was hurt one 
 bit. He is such a cry-baby, that he bellows if you 
 shake your finger at him. Laddie never touched 
 anybody before, but Edgar was trying to cut off his 
 tail with the hedge clippers. Any nice dog would 
 try and bite a boy who was chopping at his tail with 
 the hedge clippers, wouldn't he ? " 
 
 Pa Giddings instantly agreed, and added, " I know 
 somethin' about your little brother Edgar. He's got 
 queer notions of what's funny. Last week he kicked 
 over a pail o' opened oysters for me, and he nearly 
 laughed hisself to death." 
 
 Philomel clinched her small fists with the inten- 
 sity of her indignation. " I wish Laddie had swal- 
 lowed his whole hand. I wish he was bleeding all 
 over. He is the meanest, cruellest, sneakiest, tell- 
 talest, and hatef ullest boy ! " 
 
 A voice came from the boat-house doorway. 
 "Fie, little Miss. I couldn't believe that was you 
 talkin' so ugly. That ain't no way in which to speak 
 of a dog, much less a human bein'." 
 
 Phil's yellow head hung down. "I'm sorry. I 
 shouldn't have talked that way," she murmured con- 
 tritely. "But you know I would never speak of a 
 dog like that." 
 
 John suddenly put his hand before his mouth.
 
 20 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Under its screen, he had a brief peculiar attack of 
 coughing. It was Ma's turn to send the warning 
 look. 
 
 At last the Giddings' visitor stood in the doorway. 
 It was so low that Pa's gray head had to stoop in 
 clearing it, and so narrow that Ma had to draw her- 
 self in, as if she were buttoning herself into a scanty 
 jacket, before she could pass. 
 
 " Oh, what a darling house ! " Philomel exclaimed, 
 her eyes traveling from the low, white-paneled ceil- 
 ing of the cabin to the crimson rug beneath the 
 dinner table, and then more slowly about the four 
 square walls. 
 
 To be quite accurate, there were no walls at all, 
 only a series of shelves. Each one of the four tiny 
 muslin-curtained windows was set deep into shelves. 
 And upon these many ledges, this was the wonder 
 that kept the visitor's blue eyes held wide, were 
 jars, boxes, tea caddies, strange baskets and pots, 
 with carvings of ivory, teakwood, and bone. There 
 were Aztec idols from Mexico, and walrus tusks from 
 Alaska. There were dolls, fans, fly brushes, dried 
 palm leaves, great shells, whole trees of coral, queer 
 pine cones, desiccated starfish in fact, all of the 
 dreams of adventurous childhood seemed encrusted 
 and visualized on Pa and Ma Giddings' unbelievable 
 parlor shelves. 
 
 Back of this cabin and the gangway was the 
 kitchen, which Pa insisted upon calling the galley; 
 and at either side of the wide-bottomed old boat were 
 cosy little bedrooms; but for a long time Phil did
 
 LADDIE'S ISLAND 21 
 
 not know this, and used to imagine Pa and Ma 
 sleeping, one at each side of their living room fire- 
 place, upright in a favorite chair. 
 
 Laddie, at the sound of his mistress' voice, came 
 bounding in. Ma followed with a dish of beans, 
 once more hot and steaming. 
 
 " That's a nice dog o' yourn, Miss Phil," she said, 
 nodding sideways at the beautiful animal. "I 
 never is yit seen a dog eat quite so much." 
 
 As for Phil, she was too excited to eat. She nib- 
 bled at a rather stale cookie that Ma had found 
 somewhere. The good hostess was already planning 
 audibly all of the tarts and sweets she would make, 
 now that " she and Pa " were going to adopt a real 
 little granddaughter of their own. 
 
 " Then you mustn't call me * Miss ' anything," 
 observed Phil wisely. "Real grandmothers never 
 do." 
 
 " Now the Lord love that baby and her blue gen- 
 tian eyes," exclaimed Ma. " Of course, there won't 
 be no Miss, or Mister, or Mrs. You is our dear 
 little Phil, Laddie is our Laddie, and we is Pa and 
 Ma Giddin's, for now and always." 
 
 This important compact being established, Pa an- 
 nounced that he must be going back to his oyster 
 and fish house, to get out some of his " orders ", be- 
 fore rowing Laddie out to the island. 
 
 Phil showed no disposition to leave her delightful 
 friends. Her eyes had begun to roam the enticing 
 cabin shelves. Laddie, gorged with Ma's bounty, 
 lay asleep in the sunshine near the door.
 
 22 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 At that moment, Mrs. Giddings came in from 
 the kitchen, wiping her hands on a blue and white 
 checked apron. Her big, kind face suggested a 
 hint of embarrassment. " Dearie," she began after 
 seating herself, "you know Ma loves havin' you 
 here. It's better'n a big bunch of posies on the 
 center table, jest seein' you acrost over there in Pa's 
 chair, lookin' up so smilin' and sweet, but now don't 
 you think it about time you was showin' yo'sef back 
 to home, before your folks git to worryin' ? " 
 
 The child tossed herself willfully. " There's no- 
 body to worry," she said. " Nobody cares where I 
 am, one bit. They don't love anybody but Edgar 
 that horrid " 
 
 " Tut tut ! no more talkin* like that," Ma re- 
 minded her guest. 
 
 " All right, then. I won't, but he is," Phil said 
 the last words under her breath. Then she looked 
 wistfully about. 
 
 " It's so nice here, Ma Comfort," she pleaded, 
 with a shy upward glance. " I could just lay down 
 there on the floor and go to sleep like my Laddie. 
 Isn't Laddie too lovely when he's asleep ? " 
 
 She slid from her chair and knelt by the motion- 
 less dog. Her hands crept under the long-nosed, 
 sensitive face. With the instinct for teasing that 
 all children have, she suddenly let it fall. It 
 thumped down on the soft rug, as heavy and inert as 
 the head of a bear-skin. 
 
 " You see," said Ma, " he's so sodden with sleep 
 that right now's the time for you to slip away.
 
 LADDIE'S ISLAND 23 
 
 When you git well out of the house, I'll shut the 
 livin' room door on him." 
 
 " Oh, I do hate to go," moaned Phil. " It's so 
 nice in your little house, and so funny and empty 
 feeling in mine." 
 
 " That's only because you ain't got used to it, 
 dearie," encouraged Ma Comfort, with a smile. 
 
 Philomel shook her head. " I never can get used 
 to that house. They've got just one servant. She's 
 white, named Rebecca, and she's the Grossest thing ! " 
 
 " Surely she haven't had a call yit to be cross to a 
 poor lonely lamb like you ! " cried Ma, frowning. 
 
 " But she has," insisted Phil. " Whenever I come 
 near her, or ask what she's doing, she tells me ' to 
 run along and not bother.' But when Edgar comes, 
 she looks at him as if he was something good to 
 eat." 
 
 Ma's frown disappeared. A shrewd, knowing ex- 
 pression shone in her kindly eyes. She was begin- 
 ning to comprehend the real cause of trouble. Here 
 were two children, not far apart in years, each one 
 heretofore a petted ( grown-folks ' child, thrown sud- 
 denly together. Of course it would be hard, hard 
 for both, and yet for both nothing could be better. 
 Also, she thought, it was a problem that must work 
 itself out without too much interference from oth- 
 ers. Putting aside the question of Edgar, she said 
 hopefully : 
 
 " Oh, well, when you git a little better acquainted 
 in the village, you is sure to find a girl friend to 
 play with. A whole town without a lot o' girls
 
 24 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 would be as queer as a summer day without butter- 
 flies." 
 
 Phil's face lightened. " But I haven't seen even 
 a speck of a little girl/' she announced, after a mo- 
 ment of rapid thought, discouragement again dark- 
 ening her vision. 
 
 " You ain't been here but two full days. Jest you 
 wait. The good Father always sends girls, and boys 
 too, the things they need. And besides," she added, 
 leaning forward in her rocker, " you've got a new 
 home and a fam'ly to come to. You is my little girl 
 now, and Pa Giddin'ses', as well as your stepma's. 
 You can come to us every day; and some rainy 
 mornin', when playin' out of doors isn't good, do 
 you know what we're goin' to do ? " 
 
 " No, oh, what ? Ma, tell me quick ! " cried Phil 
 eagerly. 
 
 "We'll go down by a stepladder into my store 
 louse," promised Ma. " John, bein' he's a sea-farin' 
 man, wants to call it the hull, but I sticks to my 
 name of store house. Down there is boxes an' bar- 
 rels an' corners, and more shelves than they is in 
 this cabin, an' a powerful sight more of queer things 
 on them shelves. No, dearie, you jest be good and 
 go home now, like Ma wants you, an' I'll turn you 
 square loose in that hull." 
 
 Such a bribe was of course irresistible. With a 
 murmured " I wish it was now," Phil arose. Once 
 more she leaned tenderly over Laddie, then, straight- 
 ening her slim young shoulders, went on tiptoe out 
 of the door.
 
 LADDIE'S ISLAND 25 
 
 Ma kissed a fat hand to her, and nodded encour- 
 agement with such vigor that her smiles flew like 
 bright drops of water from a bird's bath-tub. 
 
 Alone, Phil climbed the four steps to the pier* 
 Rather slowly she walked down the wharf, her feet 
 at the level with the cabin windows. It was hard to 
 keep going. With increased reluctance she was pass- 
 ing the stern of the boat, when she heard Ma call out : 
 
 " Miss Phil little gran'darter one minute." 
 
 Philomel needed no urging to stop. 
 
 From the galley door Ma bustled out. Phil looked 
 down right on her head. The soft brown hair, with 
 scarcely a gray thread in it, was parted as if by a 
 ruler. It was tightly drawn down over her ears and 
 caught at the back, where it lay in twists that re- 
 minded Phil of a golden-brown doughnut. In one 
 hand Ma held up a red lacquered box, on which were 
 quaint Chinese figures. 
 
 " I jest noticed it. I'd forgot that I had it," she 
 declared, slightly breathless from haste. " It's can- 
 died ginger. I thought you might like it and, 
 maybe, your stepma and Edgar would relish some 
 too." 
 
 Phil stooped for the treasure, but at Ma Com- 
 fort's suggestion of sharing it, she laughed, as if at a 
 joke. 
 
 Ma's face sobered. "What you laughin' at, 
 child ? " she demanded. " I ain't aimin' to be 
 funny. I meant what I said about offerin' some to 
 Edgar. When you is mad with a person, they 
 ain't no way of workin' it out so quick as given' them
 
 26 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 somethin' to eat. You jest try it. An' here 
 don't prance away. What I really called you hack 
 for was to say this, and you try to remember. It's 
 every bit as important bein' kind to folks as to dogs. 
 And I wouldn't wonder if our Father in Heaven 
 looked on it as bein' more important. Think it out 
 on your way home little darlin'. Hope the gin- 
 ger'll taste good ! Run along now, until to-morrow."
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 ON BIBLE ROAD 
 
 THOROUGHLY sobered now by Ma's reproof, 
 Phil walked on until the planks of the pier, 
 thrust abruptly into an up-tilting sand bank, changed 
 the rasp of her feet over boards into the soundless 
 shuffle of climbing. She needed a few minutes only 
 in which to gain the upper, level road. A signpost 
 just across it bore the name, " Beach Avenue, King- 
 ton." 
 
 The sea winds still fluttered the little girl's stiff 
 gingham skirt; but the sun overhead poured down 
 a glorious warmth. His beams, striking full on the 
 box that she carried, brought out flashes of scarlet 
 and gold. The humpbacked small figures began to 
 dance. 
 
 Almost as queer as these figures, Phil thought, 
 were her two new friends in their little boat-home by 
 the pier. She had never seen people like them be- 
 fore, nor heard the kind of speech that they used. 
 Of the two, she felt sure she liked Pa the better. 
 His eyes were so wonderfully gentle and blue. 
 
 There was something about " Ma Giddings " just a 
 trifle too compelling. It hinted of " bossiness," and 
 Philomel did not like being " bossed." Mammy 
 Jane used to try it, calling her a " young jage "
 
 28 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 whatever that was, and chasing her out of the 
 kitchen with a rolling pin. But one always laughed 
 at Mammy. No one oheyed her, not even 'Lijah. 
 
 Those parting words, for instance, spoken in Ma's 
 decided voice as she held the ginger box. " It's jest 
 as important bein' kind to folks as it is to dogs. 
 Think it out for yourself, little granddaughter." 
 
 Phil tossed her bright head defiantly. The red 
 tam-o'-shanter slid even further over her left ear. Of 
 course God meant people to be kinder to other people 
 than they were to dogs, even if dogs were so much 
 nicer. She hadn't needed Ma Giddings to tell her 
 that. Hadn't she been brought up a strict " Piscer- 
 palian ? " Didn't she and Cousin Betty drive nine 
 miles every Sunday of their lives, just to go to Sun- 
 day school and church? Cousin Betty had a class 
 in Sunday school, and was far better fitted than an 
 old lady on a houseboat to tell Phil what was right ! 
 
 The thin shoulders in the crimson sweater were 
 thrown back stiffly, and the wearer marched on, try- 
 ing to feel very indignant. But Ma's words re- 
 turned, fluttering like a wind-blown ribbon against 
 an impatient cheek. 
 
 "Well, then," demanded Phil aloud, "if God 
 wants people to be good to other people, why are my 
 stepmother and Edgar and Rebecca so mean to me ? 
 Why don't they make Edgar stop calling me names, 
 and teasing Laddie ? I told him to let Laddie alone. 
 That must have been what Ma meant, that folks 
 ought to be better to me." 
 
 For about two minutes, this view of the problem
 
 ON BIBLE ROAD 29 
 
 brought with it a vague satisfaction. But the sense 
 of relief did not last. 
 
 " Oh, shucks ! " she exclaimed impatiently. " All 
 right then, I'll try. I'll try to like my stepmother 
 better, if I can, and Edgar too. Now Laddie's gone, 
 I've naturally got to love somebody." 
 
 Firm in this high resolve, Phil's heart began to 
 lighten. Walking swiftly now she began to plan 
 ways and means of being kinder and more generous, 
 when she should have reached her stepmother's home. 
 
 Absorbed in healing resolutions, Phil did not hear 
 the low purr and slide of an approaching automo- 
 bile, until a discordant and terrifying blast sounded 
 directly in her ear. She screamed and, unconscious 
 of direction, sprang wildly to one side. 
 
 A half-muffled and frightened cry followed, evi- 
 dently in a woman's voice, and immediately the car 
 came to a stop shivering in all of its great length as 
 though it were a living and terrified animal. 
 
 Swift as the menace had been, Phil's danger was 
 now over. She found herself deep in a wayside 
 ditch, fortunately nearly dry, but which had grown 
 up into a dense thicket of blackberry bushes. In 
 falling, she had clutched at a branch, and her hand, 
 still closed convulsively upon it, felt as if it were 
 holding hot wires. One foot was caught in the ooze 
 of the mud, the other was gripped by thorns. 
 
 At this critical moment a different voice arose, 
 that of a laughing child. It was an overdressed lit- 
 tle girl, not more than six years old, who leaned far 
 out of the motor.
 
 30 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Oh, look, Miss McCracken, look quick/' trilled 
 the youngster in delight. " She's all scratched up 
 like Brer Rabbit in the briar-patch." 
 
 "Hush, Constantia, hush, be quiet! I am 
 ashamed of you." Then, speaking across Constantia 
 and looking down, the lady said, " I am sorry, little 
 girl. Are you seriously hurt ? " 
 
 " No, I'm not ! You go away," raged poor Phil, 
 so maddened with pain and the other child's mockery 
 that she scarcely knew what she was saying. 
 
 Miss McCracken's face hardened. Constantia, 
 seeing it, took advantage of the moment of silence 
 to cry out, her bright eyes upon Phil, " It was all 
 your fault, you stupid! Don't you know enough 
 yet to get out of the way when you see the Hopkins' 
 car coming ? " 
 
 " Hush, Constantia," said the lady again, but this 
 time with less vigor. Then, facing about to the 
 driver, she gave the command, " Home Walter," and 
 the huge mouse-colored machine moved rapidly away. 
 
 Not until Phil believed the car and its hateful oc- 
 cupants to be many miles off did she attempt to get 
 out of the ditch. It did not prove an easy job. 
 Both of her hands were badly scarred, and each of 
 her fingers had been punctured by thorns. One after 
 another of the small digits made a short rueful jour- 
 ney to Phil's mouth, there to be thoughtfully sucked, 
 and afterwards wiped off on the black-and-white 
 skirt, or the red sweater, whichever chanced to come 
 first. 
 
 Her legs itched and stung. Once back on the road,
 
 ON BIBLE ROAD 31 
 
 she went through, various acrobatic contortions, in 
 order to view that part of them where calves, later 
 on, might appear. She was shocked to see three 
 jagged holes in each stocking, and between the holes 
 big blood stains dyeing the thin cotton mesh. 
 
 At her first homeward step, Phil stumbled and 
 nearly fell, because of a length of white thread tat- 
 ting, that had ripped from the hem of her petticoat. 
 As it clung to the garment by only a few inches, Phil 
 stooped over, ripped it all off, and with a vague na- 
 tion of saving the trimming, flung it in a loop over 
 her shoulder. It was at this point she discovered 
 that her wonderful box had been lost. She recalled 
 that, in her first alarm, it had seemed to fly of itself 
 from her hand, but where was it now? After some 
 searching, the treasure was found among the roots 
 of the brambles and, fortunately, not far from the 
 road. 
 
 Muddy and torn, stinging with pain and resent- 
 ment, Phil again started towards home. All of the 
 sweet peacefulness she had felt a few moments 
 earlier, while planning so happily to be good, had 
 vanished. How she hated that big, gleaming auto- 
 mobile and all of the people within it! Even the 
 horrid looking driver named " Walter " had grinned 
 and enjoyed her humiliation. She " spised " the en- 
 tire Hopkins family, no matter how many they were. 
 She "spised" their name, "Hopkins." "I'd 
 I'd just like to kill them," she muttered viciously. 
 " They're so stuck-up and rude." 
 
 A few more hobbling steps brought her to the cor-
 
 32 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 ner of Bible Road, Kington's main thoroughfare, a 
 long wandering highway that led back from Beach 
 Avenue two miles inland to the village. 
 
 At her left, ran a new stone wall that tried to look 
 old and this part of the going was up-hill. Near 
 the top there was an opening in the wall, from which 
 a drive led inward; and, through a pair of tall iron 
 gates, Phil could see the side of a large house, also 
 very new, built of soft yellow brick, with white trim- 
 mings. Near it, before a flight of broad shallow 
 steps, was standing the big gray car. Philomel 
 averted her face, and knew that she disliked Con- 
 stantia more than ever. 
 
 At the summit of the rise, across a green valley, 
 she could see her own dingy dwelling, shabby, square, 
 and sadly in need of a fresh coat of paint. 
 
 Tears of anger and self-pity rushed to her eyes. 
 Why should she, Phil Merrill, have to live in an old 
 barn like that, while the hateful, malicious Con- 
 stantia dwelt in a palace, not to mention having a 
 splendid automobile. It seemed so cruelly unfair. 
 Phil put her box down and stopped short, in order 
 to lift the torn petticoat and apply it as a handker- 
 chief. 
 
 Where she stood, Bible Road sloped down to a 
 level green strip known to Kington as the " marsh." 
 It was a dense growth of alders and pussy willows, 
 and the broad-leaved plants of midsummer, that grow 
 with their feet in water. Among close hidden roots, 
 a sluggish brown streamlet had gurgled. 
 
 Then the millionaire Hopkins, having bought
 
 ON BIBLE ROAD 33 
 
 many acres facing the sea and erected " Hopkins' 
 Castle," as he called it, had a whim to become the 
 possessor of a fish-pond, in which to breed trout, 
 fresh-water bass, and salmon for his table. Excava- 
 tions were made, so that great heaps and mounds of 
 red earth, tumbling down into the " marsh," still 
 showed in red scars against the greenness. 
 
 At that instant, Phil's eyes seemed drawn to an 
 object which, until then, she had not noticed. On 
 Bible Koad, exactly in the center of the marshlands, 
 and therefore just half-way between the boundaries 
 of the Hopkins and the Merrill properties, stood a 
 small house, so peculiar that Phil had to look hard to 
 believe that it really was there. 
 
 Apparently the shanty had been put together from 
 scraps and bits of other and older buildings. Here 
 and there a new plank showed up, vivid yellow by 
 contrast, and on the mottled roof squares of shingles 
 alternated with strips of tin and slates already gray 
 from age. It had no paint. On the outer walls 
 there were queer splashes of color, sometimes a 
 portion of a crimson letter, or a picture of a huge 
 human hand. On one plank, and startlingly clear, 
 was an enormous eye with a great deal of white to it. 
 This meant, of course, that pieces of old fallen sign- 
 boards had been used. 
 
 A shabby verandah, its roof supported by a couple 
 of thin corner posts, faced the road, where a rude 
 fence had been begun but never finished. The two 
 gateposts, round sections of sawn-off logs, stood 
 higher than was necessary, and to save the cost of
 
 34 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 paint, both had been charred black. No gate as yet 
 hung between them. 
 
 From the very center of the crazy quilt of a roof 
 emerged a new and extremely impudent looking little 
 chimney of bright red brick. Yet grotesque and 
 desolate as it was, the place had somehow a curiously 
 waiting air about it. 
 
 "Whoever has to live in that house has a whole 
 lot worse home than mine," thought Phil, after a 
 prolonged contemplation of the dismal shanty. But 
 what sort of creatures would inhabit it ? The dark- 
 ies in their neat little cabins near ( Grandma's ' 
 would have scorned such a rookery. For not only 
 was the building itself unbelievably ugly, but no 
 single shrub, not one kindly screening tree was any- 
 where near it. And some way back from its harle- 
 quin walls grew the just waking alders and willows, 
 stretching on and on, until they reached the line of 
 the Merrill orchard. 
 
 The dingy top story of Phil's house, with its one 
 blinking window, did not seem to her half so bad. 
 She now realized how much worse off some children 
 might be, the children, for example, if such 
 came to the desolate shanty in Bible Road. 
 
 Half-way along the descent of the hill, and while 
 Philomel's heart was still warm with compassion, 
 she saw, moving slowly in her direction, a group of 
 human beings so strange, so incredibly " different," 
 that she remained rigid and fixed, both mouth and 
 eyes set wide open.
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 ANNUNCIATA 
 
 AT first Philomel thought it an unusually large 
 goat wagon. 'Lijah had always driven home 
 the week's washing in a cart evolved from a dry- 
 goods box, and drawn most unwillingly by a mangy 
 old billy called " Miss Rosa." 
 
 But very soon Phil saw that instead of a goat, a 
 slim human being was bound in the crude harness. 
 She would have believed it a child not much older 
 than herself, except that the girl wore a black skirt 
 that reached to her ankles. The bowed figure strain- 
 ing to pull the heavy burden now drew itself upward 
 and backward, bracing hard against its load, which 
 at the instant had begun too swift a descent. 
 
 Two boys, one just Edgar's size, the other con- 
 siderably taller, pushed vigorously in their efforts to 
 assist. 
 
 All were bareheaded. A thin little girl about five 
 years old, now turning her back to the others, ran 
 out to the edge of the road and began gathering a 
 handful of wild flowers. 
 
 Behind the cart, walking exactly in the center of 
 the dusty highway, came a "grown-up," evidently 
 the mother of the strange flock. She was bending 
 far over with the weight of a huge, soft bundle,
 
 36 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 perhaps clothing, tied up in a brightly colored 
 patchwork bedspread, and bound to her shoulders by 
 ropes. 
 
 Beside her trotted a fifth child, a small, very fat 
 boy, which seemed queer as the rest of the party 
 were all thin. The fat boy clung to his mother's 
 free hand, the other being lifted to balance her 
 load, but noticing the flower-gathering sister, he 
 broke away in order to join and to imitate her. 
 
 Phil had unconsciously walked slower and slower. 
 She realized that by keeping her present pace, she 
 could not fail to meet the strange procession just in 
 front of the two charred gateposts of the hideous new 
 cottage. 
 
 All at once, as if some one had spoken, Phil knew 
 that it was into the dreadful shanty that the family 
 before her was moving. They would be her neigh- 
 bors, right between her own house and the Hop- 
 kins. 
 
 A vivid excitement possessed her, and her heart 
 began pounding her ribs. Was this the little girl 
 friend, this girl in the wagon, that Ma Giddings 
 had said would surely come? Then her hope sank. 
 Perhaps she would not be allowed to play with such 
 children. Mrs. Merrill was very particular, and 
 this little brown crew were a kind that Phil had never 
 seen before. But though hope had abated, curiosity 
 remained in full force. 
 
 The open cart rumbled nearer. Philomel began 
 gradually to perceive what it contained. At first 
 only two heads could be seen, one that of a black-
 
 ANNUNCIATA 37 
 
 haired baby quietly sleeping, and the other a doll, 
 a great doll wearing a crown of bright gold. 
 
 Each creak of the homemade cart wheels disclosed, 
 inch by inch, the two recumbent bodies. That of 
 the baby was swathed in dingy rags, while the other, 
 unwrapped, showed the full splendor of a long blue 
 cloak, parted over snowy under-robes. This figure 
 was made, it would seem, of porcelain only less 
 smooth and shiny. Wonder of wonders ! In its arms 
 it held a second doll, a smiling, round-faced infant. 
 
 Phil thought of her own wax and china babies, 
 packed deep in her old-fashioned trunk, not one of 
 which, even at the very first, had been as dazzlingly 
 beautiful as this one. She could not understand 
 how children so dirty and ragged as those now com- 
 ing toward her could be possessors of a plaything so 
 splendid. 
 
 The cart and its human beast of burden had by 
 this time reached the beginning of the crazy fence. 
 All of the wayfaring eyes turned eagerly in the di- 
 rection of the cottage. None, apparently, had no- 
 ticed Phil. 
 
 The mother, under her tottering load, gave a loud 
 exclamation, and began to talk rapidly in a language 
 that sounded like a big game of marbles, cracking to- 
 gether and rolling every way. The cart stopped. 
 The speaker hurried past it and attempted to enter 
 the gate. Unfortunately the tall posts were set too 
 close together. The bundle stuck tightly between 
 them, and Phil grinned, thinking of Ma Giddings as. 
 she squeezed through her narrow cabin door.
 
 38 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 The woman writhed and twisted. More of the 
 excited syllables began to snap and to roll about. 
 The two larger boys ran forward to assist her, but 
 their short willing arms could not reach up so far. 
 There was a sound of tearing, a last grunting effort, 
 and finally the woman and her burden made the 
 clearing with such force, that both went staggering 
 on until, at the edge of the verandah, they collapsed 
 into two soft, quivering lumps. 
 
 There were childish cries of consternation, but im- 
 mediately the mother sat up laughing, whereupon all 
 of the children joined in, laughing aloud with her. 
 
 At this moment the girl dragging the cart and 
 nearing the gateposts caught her first glimpse of 
 Phil. The two stood gazing at one another. 
 
 Philomel, meeting the marvellous, wide-opened 
 eyes, drew in her breath and held it. Only once be- 
 fore had she seen a face so exquisite. This had been 
 a picture, the picture of a girl in a foreign dress 
 not unlike that before her; a vivid, lovely face in 
 high colors that ornamented the top of a handkerchief 
 box. 
 
 The box was even now in that unpacked trunk. 
 Since the Christmas morning on which Santa Glaus 
 had brought it, Phil had felt it to be the dearest thing 
 she had owned. 
 
 On that radiant countenance, as upon the living 
 one from which she could not remove her fascinated 
 gaze, lay the soft, brown-red tinting of an autumn 
 peach. The thick dark hair, shining like the old 
 mahogany table in Grandma's dining room, parted
 
 ANNUNCIATA 89 
 
 in a narrow white line, and was drawn back, waving, 
 above the hidden ears. The girl's face was the 
 shape of an inverted rosebud. Her eyes, incredibly 
 large and dark and tranquil, had a look that seemed 
 to offer love. Her mouth was as red as a cardinal 
 flower, and when she laughed, as now, Philomel felt 
 sure the angels in Heaven wore the same enchanting 
 smile. 
 
 Over the foreign girl's shoulders was an orange- 
 colored kerchief, bordered with purple roses, and 
 about the slim, brown neck a string of coral beads. 
 
 " Annunciata ! Annunciata ! " came in sharp 
 tones from the seated woman. 
 
 Anunciata turned with a start. " Si, Madre mia f 
 I am coming," she answered, the last three words in 
 unmistakable English. This fact brought to Phil a 
 deep and glowing satisfaction. It would have been 
 little less than a tragedy not to be able to talk with 
 the wonderful stranger. 
 
 After a last brilliant, flashing smile, Annunciata 
 turned and began to drag once more on the ignomini- 
 ous harness. She neared the two charred posts, al- 
 ready the scene of a partial disaster, when one of the 
 poorly fastened wheels struck full against the fence. 
 There were cries of warning. Annunciata attempted 
 instantly to " back." But it was too late. Already 
 the cart was toppling, and in another instant it went 
 sprawling sidewise, the open top toward Phil, the 
 little beast of burden being thrown violently to the 
 ground. 
 
 The sleeping baby, waking with a scream of terror,
 
 40 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 rolled over and over in the road until it struck against 
 the bulwarks of Phil's feet, while the wonderful doll, 
 flung against one of the posts, broke with a dreadful 
 crash. 
 
 Now the strangest of all these strange happenings 
 began. There was a general shriek as of bodily an- 
 guish. Each child, independently, made a series of 
 surprising gestures, touching with the raised right 
 hand first the forehead, next the breast, and then 
 the two shoulders, one after the other. The woman 
 from the verandah rushed back to the gate, her arms 
 flying around and around, like those Dutch wind- 
 mills in pictures Phil had seen. The excited crea- 
 ture uttered cries and ejaculations as of a person 
 gone insane. 
 
 "Madonna mia! Miserecordia! " she wailed. 
 " Ohime I Disgrdzia. Madonna mia! " 
 
 "Madonna mia!" echoed the chorus of sobbing 
 children. 
 
 Annunciata alone made no sound. Swiftly and 
 silently she disentangled herself from the harness, 
 got to her feet, and darting to the broken image, sank 
 beside it, looking down. 
 
 The others followed her, kneeling in a sorrowful 
 ring. No one had taken the slightest notice of the 
 crying baby. Lying in the dusty road, it still beat 
 the air with frightened fists, not knowing what to 
 make of this unusual neglect. 
 
 A little uncertainly Phil stooped, laid her ginger 
 box on the ground, and lifted the weeping infant. 
 She had never in all of her life before held a real,
 
 ANNUNCIATA 41 
 
 living baby. The weight of the small palpitating 
 body terrified her. Somehow she thought it would 
 have been much lighter. She sent up a prayer, ask- 
 ing God not to let her drop the precious armful. It 
 felt at first as if it were literally flowing through her 
 fingers. 
 
 When Philomel found that it was not really slip- 
 ping, but could be held quite securely as if it had 
 been a rabbit or a puppy, her courage returned. She 
 pressed the tumbled black head upon her shoulder 
 and, rocking back and forth, began to croon : 
 
 " Bye some bye, shut your eye, 
 Go to sleepy, little baby. 
 You shall have a long white gown, 
 Go to sleepy, little baby." 
 
 From some far-away land of her own babyhood, the 
 old-fashioned lullaby came echoing, and as the trem- 
 bling of the child could not be stilled, its young nurse 
 continued : 
 
 " Black and bay, sorrel and gray, 
 All the pretty little horses. 
 You shall wear a long white gown, 
 And go to see Grandmother." 
 
 As Phil hummed the last words, the baby snug- 
 gled its dirty, tear-stained cheek against her. Not 
 without difficulty could she manage to lift the corner 
 of her skirt high enough to wipe off the worst layer 
 of grime. Beneath it, she saw a wistful little face 
 that held the promise of growing up to look like An- 
 nunciata.
 
 42 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Again she needed to stoop, this time for the ginger 
 box, and now indeed Phil's hands were full. 
 
 " There, there," she said to her charge. " You 
 were not really hurt. You just rolled over and over 
 in the road." 
 
 After a few more sobs, the baby's lids began to 
 droop. With a sense of triumph and of ecstasy, 
 Phil knew that it was going to sleep. Now she 
 dared walk closer to the kneeling group. Weren't 
 she and the baby part of it ? 
 
 Over the nodding little head, she saw Annunci- 
 ata lift first one, and then another section of the doll. 
 Fortunately it was not shattered, but had broken into 
 three clean pieces. The lower fragment, where the 
 white and blue robes flowed outward to make a sort 
 of pedestal, was not hurt. 
 
 This piece Annunciata now set upright in the 
 road. Fitted upon it came a second section, rather 
 long and narrow, finishing at the top with a rup- 
 tured shoulder. The two parts remained as she had 
 placed them. 
 
 Low, hopeful murmurs rose from the transfixed 
 group. All crossed themselves once more, and be- 
 gan whispering in their queer, excited language. 
 
 With slim, brown hands that now, in spite of all 
 their deftness, showed signs of trembling, Annunci- 
 ata took up the third hollow piece. This was the 
 most important, for it bore not only the gold crowned 
 head of the doll-mother, but in its arms the child. 
 The three parts cohered precisely, whereupon a great 
 sigh of thankfulness went up.
 
 ANNUNCIATA 43 
 
 Annunciata, her face radiant, held the image in 
 place, and looked about as if in search for a needed 
 something. Phil knew by instinct what it was she 
 wanted, and remembered the long string of tatting 
 around her neck. 
 
 She ran forward eagerly, knelt by Annunciata, and 
 said, " Here's a nice string around my shoulders. I 
 can't take it off with the baby and this box." 
 
 " Grazia Grazia! We thank you/' cried the 
 Italian girl, with a glance so full of happy gratitude 
 and so bewildering that Phil felt a little dizzy. 
 
 Having the tatting woven about it, the image 
 stood upright and complete. The lacy binding 
 seemed actually to increase its beauty. 
 
 Laughing aloud in their new delight and relief, 
 though tears still hung on all of the thick, black 
 lashes, the family arose as one. Annunciata, lead- 
 ing on, bore the lovely blue and white figure as one 
 holds a baby at a font. Single file, the rejoicing 
 procession moved toward the house. 
 
 Within the empty and desolate dwelling, Annun- 
 ciata's eyes, so soft yet so intelligent, fixed at once 
 on the low mantelshelf, and while the watchers held 
 their breath, she placed the doll exactly in the center, 
 and drew back, her hands clasped in an attitude of 
 prayer. The children behind her started to kneel, 
 but were checked by a sudden order from the mother. 
 
 Darting out upon the verandah with a haste that 
 very nearly overturned Phil and the baby, she stooped 
 to the huge cloth bundle, and began to tear it open. 
 
 After much nervous, exclamatory searching, she
 
 44 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 finally took out a pasteboard box covered with blue 
 and silver tissue paper. This she brought back, un- 
 opened, into the room, and placed it in Annunciata's 
 hands. 
 
 Philomel could not help staring. Whatever she 
 had been taught of politeness gave way under an in- 
 tolerable strain of curiosity. She must see what mar- 
 vellous treasures belonged in a box like that. 
 
 Annunciata took from it first two small candle- 
 sticks with a pair of candles. Even the matches 
 were there for lighting them. Next she disclosed a 
 shell of white china edged with tawdry gold, and 
 last of all a bottle full of clear water. 
 
 Phil experienced a decided disappointment. 
 What cheap, ridiculous toys they were to make such 
 a fuss over. 
 
 The candles were set at each side of the mended 
 image, while directly in front of it was placed the 
 hina shell. As Annunciata began working the cork 
 from the bottle, the children again crossed themselves, 
 and the mother, raising her hands and lifting her 
 eyes to heaven, murmured something that ended with 
 the inevitable " Madonna mia." 
 
 When, with exceeding care, every drop of the 
 precious water had been drained into the shell, An- 
 nunciata, looking around, discovered the little girl 
 who had gathered the wayside flowers, and selecting 
 two sprays of the blue Virginia cowslips from the 
 humble sheaf, she stuck them into the bottle, and put 
 it near the big doll. 
 
 Now with a face that, somehow, had moonlight
 
 ANNUNCIATA 45 
 
 on it, though the sun was shining, the young Italian 
 performed the last act of her amazing ceremony. 
 
 Dipping a slim, brown finger into the shell, she 
 turned, and going from one child to another, left the 
 sign of the cross upon each young brow. 
 
 Finally she moved toward the baby. In approach- 
 ing, she smiled straight into Phil's blue eyes. Bend- 
 ing over the sleeping child, the sister's red lips whis- 
 pered something that sounded like a prayer. With 
 special tenderness, she made the imprint of heavenly 
 protection on the forehead of the unconscious infant, 
 and then, with her fingers still upheld, looked ques- 
 tioningly at Phil. 
 
 Philomel nodded. She had not an idea what it 
 meant, but whatever the queer game was that they 
 were playing, she did not wish to be left out. 
 
 In another instant a wet, cool spot lay on the little 
 " Piscerpalean's " fair brow.
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 THE BEKTOLLOTTIS SET UP HOUSEKEEPING 
 
 THE Italian family scattered, as school children 
 at the first tap of a recess belL Some ran to 
 the big bundle sprawling half opened on the veran- 
 dah floor. Others stepped down into the bare plot of 
 earth before the hovel, running to the gate where the 
 overturned cart still reposed. 
 
 Phil, patting and cuddling the now slumbering 
 infant, kept within a few inches of Annunciata's 
 slippered heels. The girl at this moment was on 
 her knees beside the quilt, carefully extracting from 
 its tumbled contents a small square of cloth, wadded 
 to the thickness of a crib mattress. She stood up, 
 the drab-colored object dangling from one hand. 
 
 " This is the baby's bed," she informed Phil. 
 " Now let us carry her into the house and leave her 
 sleeping. She is heavy ? " 
 
 " No, no," protested Phil, hugging the small bur- 
 den closer. " She isn't a bit heavy ; she's just sweet. 
 I wish I could have her for mine." 
 
 The big sister's face grew lovelier than before. 
 " There is nothing the good God sends so sweet as 
 a small baby," she agreed. " This is our littlest one, 
 our bambino,. Her name is Rosa Maria." 
 
 " Rosa Ma-ree-ya, Rosa Ma-ree-ya," Philomel mur-
 
 HOUSEKEEPING 47 
 
 mured, carefully imitating the Italian pronunciation 
 of the name. " It suits her exactly. She is like one 
 of the little tight pink rosebuds in my Grandma's 
 garden, at home. Oh, I love that name for her, 
 Rosa Ma-ree-ya." 
 
 Unconsciously her clasp on the baby had strength- 
 ened. The child gave a low cry, half opened its 
 eyes, and beat out into the air with a brown clenched 
 fist. 
 
 " You see," warned Annunciata, as she soothed 
 Rosa Maria. " She's still frightened some. 
 Wouldn't we better let her lie quiet to herself ? " 
 
 "All right then," sighed Phil. "I reckon so. 
 But I do hate to put her down anywhere. When 
 she wakes up, can I hold her again just as long as I 
 like?" 
 
 " Sure ! " exclaimed the other girl cordially. " It 
 is kind for you to want to hold Rosa Maria." 
 
 While speaking, Annunciata had been moving in- 
 doors. The small pallet was spread in a shadowy 
 corner. Phil, quite overcome with importance, 
 stooped down, and deposited her sleeping armful. 
 
 In rising, she turned to the Italian and asked in a 
 whisper, " Will you tell me something, please, 'RTun- 
 ciata ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," nodded the other. 
 
 " When Rosa Maria and the cart toppled over, 
 why didn't any of you-all run to her? Why did 
 everybody begin crying over the big doll ? " 
 
 " The doll ? We haven't any big doll," rejoined 
 Annunciata in wonder. Her dark eyes went by in-
 
 48 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 stinct to the gaudy image on the mantelshelf. 
 " Oh," she smiled, " you mean the Madonna," and 
 with the words, she crossed herself hurriedly. 
 " That is no doll, Signorita ; it is Our Lady the 
 Blessed Virgin the Mother of God." 
 
 " Oh, is that what it is," said Phil rather doubt- 
 fully. In her childish eyes, it seemed a small object 
 to be the mother of any one so big as her idea of 
 God. She thought it best, however, not to ask fur- 
 ther questions. 
 
 She now gazed around the room. It seemed sin- 
 gularly bare. 
 
 " Don't you have any furniture or sure-enough 
 beds ? " she inquired. 
 
 Annunciata's brown head went up an inch. " I 
 should say we did ! " she replied quickly. " Our 
 things are coming from the station. Half a wagon 
 load. They'll be here soon. We have beds and 
 many stools, and one chair, and other furniture 
 too." 
 
 Phil realized all at once how rude she had been. 
 " Of course," she said earnestly, " I knew that you 
 had beautiful things. It it just wasn't here." 
 
 " In the house we come from," the young Italian 
 continued, " everything was fine. Curtains at the 
 windows, a red parlor rug, yes, and a white cloth 
 to eat from. Then came a bad accident to my poor 
 father, and we had to sell much, and move here. 
 But it is all right," she cried in a happier tone. 
 " God and Our Lady will protect us, keeping the 
 children well and giving us plenty of polenta. Ah,
 
 HOUSEKEEPING 49 
 
 that makes me remember it is supper time. Till 
 our stove comes, we must cook in the parlor fire- 
 place." 
 
 " What fun ! Oh, please let me help," pleaded 
 Phil, now all eagerness to atone for her discourtesy 
 about the furniture and the missing beds. 
 
 While speaking, she held out both hands. In one 
 shone and glittered the ginger box. " Here, 'Nun- 
 ciata," she said impulsively, " you can have all this 
 ginger for your supper." 
 
 Annunciata received the gift dumbly. For a min- 
 ute or two, she could find no words for her gratitude. 
 " Oh, oh, Signorita, is too beautiful ! " she cried. 
 " It is too beautiful for common polenta. Can we 
 keep it for a festa? Maybe for my big brother's 
 festa, on the name day of his patron saint, the 
 blessed Saint Cristofo." 
 
 Phil nodded a willing assent. She had not the 
 least idea what the Italian girl was talking about, 
 but the plea in those wonderful eyes was enough. 
 
 The box was tenderly placed near the Madonna, as 
 if, after all, it was she who had given it, then 
 running to the doorway, Philomel called back, 
 " Don't you want me to go out in the yard, 'Nunciata, 
 and get you some wood for your fire ? I used to love 
 to pick up light-wood at Grandma's." 
 
 " It is a fine thought, Signorita, and you are kind. 
 What we need next is an armful of wood. Here, 
 Tonio," she ordered, speaking directly to a slim, 
 black-headed boy. " Go with the Signorita and bring 
 it in."
 
 50 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 The boy nodded, and stood waiting for their vis- 
 itor to move on. It was plain that whenever An- 
 nunciata gave a command, the whole family, includ- 
 ing the excitable mother, were prompt to obey. 
 
 With her ragged attendant at her heels, Phil went 
 proudly forth. Just back of the cottage was a clear- 
 ing, where the feet of bricklayers and carpenters had 
 trampled the tall weeds, forming an irregular open- 
 ing in the dense marsh thicket that ran, apparently 
 for miles, between the two low hills. 
 
 Tonio, stooping, loaded his arms with faggots of 
 dry willows and alders, but Phil, who had never 
 chanced to see such stuff used in building fires, made 
 her choice of board ends and chips. 
 
 More than once she attempted conversation with 
 the shy Tonio, but at each direct question he would 
 stare, grin rather foolishly, and then hang his head. 
 " It must be," Philomel thought, " the boy is like his 
 foreign mother, and can't speak our American lan- 
 guage." 
 
 A few moments later, in the house, while the fire 
 was being started, Phil found her young hostess 
 more communicative. The name of the family as a 
 whole was Bertollotti, just as Phil's name was 
 Merrill. They were It-talians, not Eye-talians, An- 
 nunciata took pains to point out; and not so very 
 long ago her young father and mother had come to 
 the new country to work and to learn true American 
 ways. " We too, my brother and me, we are 
 American, even if we were born in Italy," Annun- 
 ciata added with emphasis. " We are real Ameri-
 
 HOUSEKEEPING 51 
 
 cans, because our hearts are so full of love for your 
 
 " And am I an American too ? " asked Phil a trifle 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Signorita, you are a most beautiful 
 American," was the admiring reply. 
 
 Phil experienced a sense of definite relief. " Oh," 
 she sighed, " I am so glad. I thought maybe I was 
 just a Southerner, like Grandma and Mammy." 
 
 Through further confidences, Phil learned that be- 
 fore the poor father's accident, the Bertollottis had 
 owned their home, in the suburbs of a big city, where 
 Tonio had attended a public school. " Of course," 
 said Annunciata, " our children being American, 
 must get the American education." 
 
 " Did you go to school, Annunciata ? " questioned 
 Phil. " I'm going to the Kington one next fall, my 
 stepmother says. I don't want to." 
 
 " Yes, yes," Annunciata replied, " I went, but not 
 to a big public school. For many years I've been 
 taught in a convent, the Convent of Mercy. It was 
 quiet and beautiful, and each day just like another. 
 Sometimes I could cry to be there again with the 
 good, holy nuns." 
 
 At this moment, Mrs. Bertollotti, who had been 
 bustling about, and at times pausing to listen, bent 
 down to her daughter, and said something in a low, 
 vehement voice. 
 
 The girl's face flushed. She dropped her head 
 with an air of timidity. " She, my mother, says," 
 murmured Annunciata shyly, " that I must tell you,
 
 52 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 in all of the girls at my convent, I was the one 
 to make the best filet." 
 
 Phil stared, and strove to look intelligent, as well 
 as delighted. Filet sounded to her like something 
 that Mammy used to put into the soup. 
 
 Her embarrassment must have been obvious, for 
 Mrs. Bertollotti, hurrying to the verandah, stirred 
 and tossed about the contents of the quilt, until she 
 withdrew, as in triumph, a flat pasteboard box. All 
 of the Bertollotti treasures, it would seem, were kept 
 in pasteboard boxes. 
 
 Now chattering incessantly in Italian, the mother 
 thrust this one into Annunciata's rather unwill- 
 ing hands. " Open, open quickly," she com- 
 manded. 
 
 The strings were carefully untied, and the top 
 lifted. On a background of blue tissue paper lay a 
 small wooden hoop, and, fixed into the circle, was a 
 half-finished square of white lace. 
 
 " It is filet" explained Annunciata. " I make it 
 to sell." 
 
 " Oh, it is perfectly lovely! " cried Phil. " Just 
 like cobwebs on weeds in the morning. All it needs 
 are some drops of dew. What's that thing in it go- 
 ing to be, a chicken ? " 
 
 " No," laughed the lace-maker, " it's a dove, a 
 dove with the olive spray of peace in its mouth. 
 When it's only started like this, you can't tell a 
 chicken from a dove." 
 
 " And you really can sell that ? " Philomel de- 
 manded, deeply impressed by the thought that a girl
 
 HOUSEKEEPING 53 
 
 not much older than herself could actually make 
 money. 
 
 " Yes, yes," replied the Italian. " What I get for 
 my lace, and what Cristofo earns in the city, is all 
 the Madre and the children have to live on since 
 that day my poor father " 
 
 The speaker's lips trembled. She leaned far over 
 the box lid, as if trying to hide her emotion. " Did 
 he did your poor father die ? " questioned Phil in 
 a hushed, awe-stricken tone. 
 
 *' No, thanks to the Virgin, he did not die. But 
 he was hurt terrible bad. He is in the city hospital, 
 and the doctor says he may never get welL So I left 
 the convent to come and help the Madre, and to keep 
 on making lace. Then a good, kind man named Mr. 
 Ferris, he heard of our trouble, and he says to Cris- 
 tofo that this nice little house is for us to live in. 
 We don't need to pay rent for a long time, the kind 
 Mr. Ferris told us. He will wait until times is bet- 
 ter for us. Isn't he a good man, Signorita ? " 
 
 Before Phil could reply, a great clatter in the 
 doorway, and the struggle of laughing children, an- 
 nounced that they were bringing in the materials for 
 supper. One carried a big iron pot, another a heap 
 of what looked like wooden bowls, while three-year- 
 old Hugo, the fat boy, staggered in, both of his arms 
 clasping a huge cloth bag filled with something soft 
 and heavy. 
 
 The fire now crackled merrily. Mrs. Bertollotti 
 reached down, lifted the pot in one wiry hand, and 
 with the other took from Hugo the rapidly slipping
 
 54 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 bag. She began at once to look about the room, first 
 anxiously, then with growing excitement. A volley 
 of Italian words poured forth. The Madonna and 
 all of the saints were appealed to. 
 
 " My mother is afraid," Annunciata quietly ex- 
 plained to the bewildered Philomel, " that there is no 
 water in this place. And how, in the name of God, 
 is she to cook polenta without water ? " 
 
 "But there is water," declared Phil. "I saw a 
 faucet trickling at the corner of the house." 
 
 Instantly the heart-broken prayers to the saints 
 were changed into cries of thankfulness. 
 
 " I'll show you," boasted Phil. Again she 
 marched proudly out, chin in air, knowing herself 
 a benefactress. 
 
 The filling of the black pot was in itself a cere- 
 mony. 
 
 " Is that bag the polenta ? " asked Phil in a whis- 
 per. 
 
 " Yes," nodded Annunciata, " Italians live on 
 it." 
 
 Phil could scarcely wait to see the strange stuff 
 disclosed. The name delighted her. " Polenta, 
 polenta." She thought it must have the taste of 
 honey, mixed with melted ice cream. 
 
 The thrilling moment had come. Mrs. Bertollotti 
 poured a generous measure. 
 
 " That's not polenta ! " Phil exclaimed, in acute 
 disappointment. " That's nothing but common old 
 corn meal, the kind Mammy eats, and 'Lijah." 
 
 " Aw, chase yerse'f ! " cried Tonio, with vivid un-
 
 HOUSEKEEPING 55 
 
 expectedness. " Sure it's polenta. Did yer think 
 they was dimonds in de bag ? " 
 
 After this picturesque rebuff, Phil wisely held her 
 peace. 
 
 In front of the fireplace Mrs. Bertollotti stirred 
 the black pot. Her face had grown as red as a new 
 brick. Perspiration streamed down it, and every 
 few moments she needed to push back from her fore- 
 head a mass of wet, black hair. 
 
 Annunciata had discovered another bag, this time 
 a paper one. From it she drew six hard, purplish 
 onions. The eyes of the children glistened. 
 
 Next the six wooden bowls, each with a pewter 
 spoon, were set at exact intervals along the veran- 
 dah's edge. 
 
 " We are all ready, Madre mid" Annunciata 
 called out. 
 
 " Si, si, va bene vtengo" came the mother's voice. 
 The children took their places. No one, not even 
 Annunciata, had thought of making them wash their 
 grimy little hands. 
 
 But another crisis arose. Mrs. Bertollotti, spoon 
 in hand, rushed to the doorway and, filling it, waved 
 both arms wildly, at the same time giving vent to the 
 most terrific flow of Italian Phil had yet heard. Two 
 of the younger Bertollotis began to cry. 
 
 " She is saying," translated Annunciata, " that 
 we forgot a most important something. We have no 
 salt for the polenta." 
 
 Phil sprang to her feet. "Pooh, salt! What's 
 salt ! " she cried airily. " There's loads and loads
 
 56 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 of it over to my house. I haven't lived there long, 
 but I know ezzacerly where Rebecca keeps it. You 
 just wait ! " 
 
 She crashed off through the budding marsh. The 
 Italians, excited and hopeful, smiled at each other 
 as they watched her go. 
 
 Phil went straight toward the outer edge of her 
 orchard. It would mean, as she thought, merely a 
 fight with the alders and willows that closed over 
 her head, but after a short progress, she felt her feet 
 sinking into mud. Here was something more dan- 
 gerous. Had she stepped into quicksand? Push- 
 ing down sheaves of the pliant bushes, she trod 
 lightly, first on one, then another, and by this device 
 managed to cross in safety. 
 
 A low stone wall had once bordered the orchard, 
 but long since it had fallen away into gaps; it was 
 through one of these that she now passed, and wiping 
 off as much mud as she could on the grass, hastened 
 up into the kitchen. 
 
 The door stood open. There was no one within 
 sight or hearing. Phil entered softly, for somehow 
 her stepmother's house was one in which a child 
 would naturally move softly. 
 
 She looked swiftly about. Yes, just as she had 
 thought, there was the salt box on the wall near the 
 range. No mistake was possible, for the word 
 " Salt " was plainly printed in black letters. Phil 
 reached up and took a handful. As it began to 
 trickle through her fingers, she realized that she must 
 get a cup or glass to hold it.
 
 HOUSEKEEPING 57 
 
 She tiptoed in toward the dining room, where she 
 knew that some of the dishes were kept. In order 
 to find them, it was necessary to pass through the 
 pantry, and on one of the shelves, just at her elbow, 
 lay the half of a cold, roast fowl and three pies. 
 
 Philomel's cautious footsteps dragged. Again 
 and again she glanced back over her shoulder at the 
 pies and the chicken. Returning with the cup, she 
 came to a stop before them. How good that chicken 
 would taste to the tired and hungry little Bertollottis, 
 with their dreadful meal of gruel. And there were 
 tllfree uncut pies. How could one of them possibly 
 be missed ? 
 
 Phil stood first on one thin leg and then on the 
 other. She knew in her heart that she had no right 
 to the food before her, yet there she stayed, playing 
 with temptation. Cousin Betty had taught her to be 
 charitable. Not even a begging negro was allowed 
 to go hungry from Grandma's door. Hadn't the dear 
 Lord himself said that you ought to be kind to the 
 poor? And to feed the hungry? The Bertollottis 
 looked awful hungry. Maybe it would be wicked 
 not to help them. 
 
 Then another thought came to justify the tempta- 
 tion. " It's my father's house. He built it, and I 
 am his only daughter, even if he is dead. I've got 
 a right to some of the things in this house." 
 
 It was settled. Phil caught up the chicken and 
 a pie, filled the cup full of salt, and making her way 
 down the kitchen steps, ran as if being pursued into 
 the orchard.
 
 58 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Once there, well hidden by the leaning old tree 
 trunks, she deflected her course into the road, crossed 
 the four planks that served as a bridge over the es- 
 cape from Hopkins' pond, and ran in boldly through 
 the two charred posts of the vacancy where, some 
 day, might swing a Bertollotti front gate. 
 
 " Ah, grazia, obligaiissimo, Signorita," exclaimed 
 the delighted children as Phil came into sight; but 
 Tonio, turning a handspring in his excitement, burst 
 out, " Gee, but you is some little dame all right, all 
 right!" 
 
 The mother, who had been walking the floor in her 
 impatience, now darted forward and down like a 
 kingfisher, seizing upon the salt. 
 
 An instant later she reappeared, bearing the steam- 
 ing pot. The wooden bowls were filled, the chicken 
 carefully distributed, and each child given an onion. 
 
 Phil refused her share of the bounty. She knew 
 that even a small bit of the chicken would have 
 choked her, and as for corn meal mush ! Once after 
 an attack of measles she had been forced to eat it, 
 and she felt that the one experience was sufficient to 
 last her for a lifetime. 
 
 But the little Bertollottis were licking their red 
 lips in enjoyment. After a spoonful of mush, they 
 would each one take up an onion, dip it into a pyra- 
 mid of salt on the floor, and with strong, white teeth 
 crunch deep into its purplish layers. Phil shud- 
 dered. She waited to see the tears begin to flow, but 
 nothing of the sort happened. 
 
 The sun was now balancing its great crimson ball
 
 HOUSEKEEPING 59 
 
 upon the western hills. In another moment he would 
 be behind them. This sight, as well as her watch- 
 ing of the famished little flock, reminded Philomel 
 that her own supper time was drawing near. 
 
 She slipped down from her seat at the edge of the 
 verandah. How she did hate starting for her step- 
 mother's house! This was worse than leaving the 
 houseboat. Her desolate little soul cried out for 
 Laddie. Where was he now? Had Pa Giddings 
 already taken him to the Island of Safety? Was 
 Laddie thinking of her as she was of him ? 
 
 A big lump rose in her throat. She saw that the 
 Bertollottis had paused in their eating to watch her, 
 and, throwing her head back, she announced, with 
 an effect of cheerfulness, " Well, I must be going. 
 I hope you'll enjoy the pie." 
 
 The Italian family arose as one, all of them, 
 that is, all except Hugo who was absorbedly stuffing, 
 and the baby, still dreaming in its quiet corner. 
 Again thanks were spoken, and the blessings of the 
 many saints called down upon the visitor. 
 
 " Addio, addio, please to come to see us soon," 
 called Annunciata, waving her brown hand. 
 
 "All right, I will," answered Phil. " Good-by. 
 Kiss Rosa Maria for me." 
 
 She forced a brave little smile, but her heart grew 
 heavier at each step toward home. 
 
 In fainter accents came the softly spoken " Addio, 
 buona Signoriia, Addio."
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 PHILOMEL GIVES A PROMISE 
 
 THE Merrill house was not far away. There 
 was no fence or gate in front of it. One 
 needed merely to step up to a single granite block, 
 and then follow a bare walk under shading elm trees 
 to the front door. 
 
 Phil hoped, as she trudged along, that she might 
 be able to enter unseen, to slip up to her little cham- 
 ber, there to exchange the torn and bloody gingham 
 for a clean one, before facing her stepmother. 
 
 At the corner of the orchard nearest the house, 
 this cherished hope fell dead. Mrs. Merrill was sit- 
 ting on the " piazza," as she called it, hemming some 
 sort of a white cloth. On the floor, close to his 
 mother's skirts, Edgar was playing a solitary game 
 of " jacks." 
 
 All the way up the walk, Phil heard the tap-tap of 
 the jacks upon the boards, with now and then a click 
 of metal, as the small copper stars struck one upon 
 the other. 
 
 The little girl's head hung low. Each advancing 
 step became increasingly difficult. The jacks fell 
 silent, and she knew that Edgar's eyes as well as 
 those of his mother were fixed steadily upon her. 
 What she did not realize however, was that, as she
 
 PHILOMEL'S PROMISE 61 
 
 slowly advanced, her whole being expressed such 
 misery and reluctance that the stepmother's reprov- 
 ing face softened. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill was far from unkind. She was an 
 estimable woman and a devoted member of her 
 church. She desired and intended, with all of her 
 heart, to " do her duty " by her husband's daughter. 
 Before her marriage to good Doctor Merrill, whom 
 every one had loved, she had been a " schoolmarm " 
 of the old-fashioned variety. Believing in the use 
 of " rulers " on upturned, shrinking palms, and of 
 the wearing of the ignominious dunce-cap by badly 
 behaved boys. 
 
 The two great passions of Mrs. Merrill's life were 
 for extreme neatness in housekeeping, and for the 
 rigid discipline of children; and, as sometimes hap- 
 pens with such people, she was blind to the fact that 
 her own child was outrageously spoiled. Edgar's 
 every action seemed right in her eyes and in those 
 of old Rebecca, who was a distant impoverished rela- 
 tive. 
 
 As Phil reached the lowest step, Mrs. Merrill 
 spoke. She tried to make her somewhat harsh voice 
 gentle. 
 
 " You must not stay away so long a time, Philo- 
 mel. I have been worrying about you. What have 
 you done with the dog ? " 
 
 "I I somebody is keeping him for me," 
 stammered Phil as she took the next step. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill's face showed relief. Her dislike of 
 dogs was sincere.
 
 62 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Well, perhaps that is the best arrangement for 
 the present," she commended with increased kindli- 
 ness of tone. 
 
 Edgar looked up, and Phil saw that his left hand 
 was carefully bandaged. 
 
 " I 'spect I'll go mad and foam at the mouth yet," 
 he stated hopefully. " Then Mommer says your old 
 dog's goin' to be shot." 
 
 Before Phil could utter the quick retort that 
 sprang to her lips, Mrs. Merrill said hastily, " Ed- 
 gar's wound was not very deep. The doctor does not 
 think it necessary for your dog to be shot. That is," 
 she added cautiously, " not unless Edgar shows symp- 
 toms, unless he grows worse. Now come here to me, 
 Philomel, and tell me how you managed to get your- 
 self into this dreadful condition." 
 
 Phil promptly obeyed. Things were turning out 
 better than she expected. 
 
 " The Hopkins' car nearly ran over me," she began 
 breathlessly. " There was a horrid little girl who 
 laughed when I fell in the ditch and got all scratched 
 up. She called me Brer Rabbit. She " 
 
 Here the narrative was interrupted by an outburst 
 of shrill, delighted laughter from the small boy. It 
 sounded so like Constantia's that Phil's cheeks 
 flamed. 
 
 " Edgar, Ed-gar ! " remonstrated the mother, just 
 as Miss McCracken had done. 
 
 Phil ran toward her tormentor. " I wish it had 
 been you, you hateful, sneaking little cry-baby, 
 you ! " she stormed. " Just let me get you "
 
 PHILOMEL'S PROMISE 63 
 
 Mrs. Merrill jumped to her feet and caught Phil 
 backwards. " Behave yourselves, both of you ! " she 
 ordered sharply. " I am surprised at you, Philomel. 
 The idea of attacking your brother like that ! and his 
 hand tied up even now where your dog bit it ! " 
 
 "Then why did he laugh?" raged Phil. "It's 
 just what that hateful girl did. I'm hurt too. My 
 hands are all torn up and stinging. Edgar ought 
 not to laugh when I'm hurt." 
 
 By this time her struggles to reach Edgar had 
 ceased, but she continued gazing down on the boy's 
 cringing form with eyes so full of contempt and dis- 
 like that it stung Mrs. Merrill to anger. 
 
 To make it worse, Edgar, in his present cowering 
 attitude, one arm held up as if to parry a blow, his 
 thin lips snarling, was not a pleasing picture. 
 
 " Why is his neck so yellow and thin ? " Phil pon- 
 dered. " And why does his hair stick out in those 
 funny dry points ? I think I could like him a little, 
 if his hair was curly and dark like Tonic's." 
 
 All at once she felt a quick grasp on her arm. 
 "Don't you glare down at Edgar like that, Philo- 
 mel," commanded the stepmother. " Go at once to 
 your room. Wash yourself and change every stitch 
 that you have on. Your feet are disgraceful! 
 Those shoes, I suppose, are utterly ruined. When 
 you come downstairs, I shall expect you to apologize 
 for this display of temper. Now go." 
 
 Phil flew upstairs in a whirlwind of protest. " I 
 won't never apologize to her, neither, horrid old 
 thing ! " the child cried hysterically under her breath.
 
 64 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " She's mean, and Edgar's mean. Oh, I wish I was 
 back home with Grandma and Cousin Betty ! " 
 
 But after the hot face was washed, the thick hair 
 brushed, and all of the damp, soiled garments ex- 
 changed for freshly starched ones, Phil's flare of 
 anger had considerably cooled. 
 
 Downstairs she found that her stepmother and 
 Edgar had moved into the dining room. The sun 
 had gone, but the light was sufficient for Mrs. Merrill, 
 close against a window, to continue her sewing, while 
 her son was absorbed in a new game of jacks. 
 
 Eebecca was moving about setting the table for 
 supper. She and Mrs. Merrill talked, their voices 
 rising as Rebecca went into the pantry or kitchen, 
 and falling again as the old serving-woman drew 
 near. 
 
 "A pack of beggarly rapscallions is what I call 
 'em. They're a disgrace to the hull neighborhood," 
 Eebecca was saying, as Phil entered. 
 
 " You saw them plainly then ? " Mrs. Merrill ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 " Yes. I was sweepin' off the porch, and they all 
 come by. One of them asked me where was the 
 Ferris cottage. Of course, I knowed what place she 
 meant, from hearin' a rascally agent had put up that 
 hovel and after fillin 7 it with emigrants meant to 
 blackmail Mr. Hopkins into buyin' up the land." 
 
 " The whole scheme is outrageous, disgraceful ! " 
 Mrs. Merrill exclaimed, tightening her thin lips, and 
 speaking with warmth. " But Mr. Hopkins refuses 
 to be blackmailed. He does not intend to buy any
 
 PHILOMEL'S PROMISE 65 
 
 more land. I have it positively from his wife." 
 
 Phil did not in the least realize of what they 
 were talking. She was only too glad that something 
 interested her stepmother to the point of making her 
 forget to enforce the dreaded apology. 
 
 Edgar looked up. " I was out in the front yard 
 playin' marbles," he remarked in his thin nasal 
 voice. " I chunked rocks at 'em, and some dirt too. 
 I most know that I hit one of 'em." 
 
 " And a good thing if you did," commended Re- 
 becca, with an approving glance at the speaker. 
 " The whole filthy passel of gypsies ought to be 
 stoned and driven off." 
 
 " What I fear most," said Mrs. Merrill in a trou- 
 bled way, " is that they will bring disease into the 
 neighborhood. They are so unclean. I am told 
 that vermin literally crawls upon them. It is a 
 shame that the village authorities let them pass, 
 especially now, with this scare of infantile paralysis 
 in the big cities." 
 
 " This is gettin' to be a land no decent folks can 
 live in," Rebecca asserted viciously. " When even 
 the open country is allowed to fill up with these here 
 thievin', lyin', germ-carryin' Eyetalians." 
 
 Now Phil understood. She sprung to her feet. 
 " They are not thieving and lying ! " she protested. 
 "They are not Eyetalians either. They are just 
 as good as you, and better too ! " 
 
 Rebecca very nearly dropped a plate. Indigna- 
 tion gathered on her hard wrinkled face. " You 
 up-settin' huzzy ! " she gasped. " You spiled, im-
 
 66 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 perdent young " but at a signal from Mrs. Mer- 
 rill, she paused and swallowed her wrath. 
 
 Now the stepmother's stern eyes fixed themselves 
 on Phil. " Never, never again speak to Rebecca 
 like that," she commanded. " Such outbursts of 
 temper are not to be allowed in my house. 
 
 " But she called them such terrible names ! " pro- 
 tested Phil. " And they are lovely people, 'speci- 
 ally 'Nunciata and Rosa Maria. They are sweet." 
 
 " Have you been with those Italians ? " inquired 
 Mrs. Merrill in a voice so cold that Phil shivered. 
 
 " Nome," she replied, speaking the first conscious 
 falsehood of her life. " I was coming by on the 
 road, and I saw them all eating their supper and 
 laughing. They called the big girl 'Nunciata. 
 They didn't look a bit horrid or thieving, and Re- 
 becca hasn't any right to say so." 
 
 Mrs. Merrill did not seem entirely satisfied with 
 this explanation, but she was wise enough not to 
 press the point, while Phil and the old servant con- 
 tinued to dart gleams of enmity at each other across 
 the table. 
 
 "Well," she sighed, rising from her rocker, and 
 folding the white cloth into a neat square, " this has 
 been a very trying day. Get up, Edgar, and come 
 to your supper. Take your place, Philomel, and 
 don't forget to ask a silent blessing. Is everything 
 ready, Rebecca ? " 
 
 The " help," who had disappeared into the pantry, 
 now rushed up to Mrs. Merrill, her empty hands 
 held wide, and on her face a look of ugly triumph.
 
 PHILOMEL'S PROMISE 67 
 
 " There, what did I say ! " she exclaimed, casting 
 a withering glance upon Phil. " The chicken for our 
 supper is gone, and a whole pie too! There ain't 
 been no tramps or no peddlers near the house. Of 
 course it's those beggars next door what's took them ! " 
 
 Phil's heart gave a great frightened bound, and 
 then seemed to die in her breast. Her hour of reck- 
 oning had come. She was in for it, but even so, she 
 did not intend to take her scolding meekly. Throw- 
 ing her head up, she looked defiantly from one horri- 
 fied face to another. 
 
 "I took that chicken and pie," she said clearly. 
 " I carried them over for the Italians' supper. 
 They were hungry and tired, so I knew it would 
 taste good to them. Anyhow, they didn't have even 
 one pie, and you-all had three." 
 
 Rebecca was for once stricken speechless. Mrs. 
 Merrill, her eyes never once leaving her stepdaugh- 
 ter's face, sank down slowly into a chair. Edgar's 
 malicious little squeak, "Thief! Thief! Phil 
 Merrill's a thief! Ain't she a thief, Mommer, for 
 stealin' our pies ? " passed unheeded. 
 
 " You took my food and gave it to those filthy 
 Italians," uttered Mrs. Merrill, less as a question 
 than a statement of something incredible of belief. 
 
 Phil nodded curtly. 
 
 '' You took food from my shelves, food out of 
 our mouths, and deliberately carried it off to a 
 pack of newcomers who are a disgrace to any self- 
 respecting neighborhood ? " 
 
 Phil swallowed hard, but again nodded.
 
 68 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 For a long moment the speaker remained silent. 
 Phil's heart beat so loud that she thought the others 
 must hear it. A wave of actual terror made the 
 hard faces swim. Would the stepmother dare to 
 lay hands on her? Would she, more horrible 
 picture, give her over to Eebecca for the sort of a 
 beating which Mammy so often was threatening to 
 bestow on the grinning Elijah? In all of her life, 
 Phil had never been given a blow. Her face, though 
 she could not know it, was as white as one of the 
 candles now burning in front of the Bertollotti's big 
 doll. Her eyes, distended with dread, had 
 grown almost black. 
 
 " Here, sit down in this chair facing me, Philo- 
 mel," said Mrs. Merrill, as she saw how the slight 
 figure trembled. " Listen quietly to what .1 must 
 say, then you can go up to your room without sup- 
 per. Your share is being eaten by your new friends 
 next door." 
 
 The child sat down thankfully. For a moment 
 she thought herself fainting and in peril of slipping 
 down to the floor. With a courageous effort she 
 drew herself up. She would not give way to weak- 
 ness before her stepmother, not to mention the watch- 
 ful, slyly smiling Kebecca. 
 
 " Apart from the theft of the food," Mrs. Merrill 
 began, " do you realize that you have told me a 
 definite, outspoken falsehood ? " 
 
 Phil, muttering an inaudible admission, dropped 
 her head until the small guilty face was quite hid- 
 den.
 
 PHILOMEL'S PROMISE 69 
 
 " This is a thing that must be settled between us 
 once and for all," the voice of judgment continued. 
 " I am not the sort of a woman to shirk a plain duty, 
 and I will not have a liar under my roof." 
 
 To this no reply could be given. Already con- 
 victed of lying, Phil was still in her stepmother's 
 house. What next would be done? 
 
 " For your dead father's sake, I suppose I must 
 shelter and clothe you," the hard tone went on. 
 " But even more should I see to your moral up- 
 bringing. This first time, Philomel, I shall leave 
 your wicked untruthfulness to your own conscience. 
 Your punishment for thieving includes that, too. I 
 shall make it my business to see that neither offence 
 is repeated. Are you listening attentively, Philo- 
 mel? " 
 
 A second muttered "yes" answered the query, 
 but this time it was accompanied by a look of cowed, 
 sullen hatred. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill set her shoulders an inch straighter. 
 " Please remember," she said, " that in all this house 
 there is nothing that does not belong absolutely to 
 me and to Edgar. Your aristocratic grandmother 
 did not have one penny to leave you. That tumble- 
 down old house where you lived was only hers 
 through charity. Your own mother's people may 
 have been proud, but they were as poor as church 
 mice, all of them." 
 
 She paused. Philomel said nothing, but Mrs. 
 Merrill began to find the wide staring eyes very un- 
 comfortable.
 
 70 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " I can see," the speaker went on," that you have 
 inherited from your poor father the fault that pre- 
 vented him from becoming the successful man he 
 should have been. His hand was never closed. He 
 was giving, always giving. He wore himself out, 
 and his early death was due to practising among peo- 
 ple who seldom paid what they owed him. When 
 I married your father I tried, with prayers and 
 tears, to make him see how unjust he was to his wife 
 and child, to his children, I mean. But he was 
 too far gone in his ways. Even I, who loved him 
 so dearly, could not save him." 
 
 Now Phil spoke. Her small blond head was high, 
 and her voice singularly clear. " I am glad I am 
 like my father," she said proudly. 
 
 For some strange reason, this speech greatly in- 
 creased Mrs. Merrill's anger. 
 
 " Get from the room at once," she cried. " Not a 
 crumb that you put into your mouth but is paid for 
 out of my savings. From now on, you'll not wear a 
 dress that I do not have to buy and then make for 
 you. And all of the gratitude I get is to have you 
 take food from your brother and from me, to give 
 to a lot of miserable beggars next door. To-night, 
 you have left us practically nothing for our own 
 meal." 
 
 "I want some good chicken for my supper," 
 wailed Edgar. " Make her go back and get me my 
 chicken, Mommer." 
 
 " Bring us food from that nest of germs and 
 disease ! " exclaimed Mrs. Merrill. " Never ! It
 
 PHILOMEL'S PROMISE 71 
 
 would probably finish you up, little son, a thing 
 Philomel's dog failed to do this morning. No, the 
 food is gone. Philomel! stop a moment; there is 
 something else I have to say to you." 
 
 Phil paused in the doorway, turning a small dis- 
 dainful chin over one shoulder. 
 
 " Philomel ! " repeated the voice even more 
 sharply. " Kindly face me, and stand waiting re- 
 spectfully while I am speaking." 
 
 Phil faced about. Her eyes were ugly. 
 
 " I am giving an order, and one that I mean shall 
 be obeyed," said Mrs. Merrill. " It is important 
 not only for yourself, but for this entire household. 
 Never again, so long as you are under my roof 
 and I am feeding you, are you to set foot into that 
 Italian hovel. Do you understand ? " 
 
 The child muttered something inarticulate. She 
 was thinking, as her rebellious gaze was fixed on her 
 stepmother's stern countenance, how different in 
 every way was Annunciata, how serene she was. 
 Compared to the " foreign beggar," as they called 
 the endearing stranger, these people looked like 
 witches in a fairy tale. After all, was it so much 
 better to be an American? 
 
 Mrs. Merrill grew, if possible, a shade whiter. 
 She did not mistake Phil's expression. 
 
 " I must have your promise, Philomel, never to 
 go there again," the stepmother insisted. 
 
 The child closed her lips obstinately. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill took three long strides forward. 
 "Philomel!"
 
 72 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 "I I promise," gasped Phil, and then, 
 knowing herself to be at last free for escape, flounced 
 out of the room and, for the second time that day, 
 started angrily up the uncarpeted stairs. 
 
 Edgar's thin, nasal tones seemed to creep after 
 her. " I wish old Phil Merrill hadn't come here to 
 live with us, don't you, Mommer? Let's send her 
 away like the dog." 
 
 There was no light provided for Phil's room, ex- 
 cept that of a single candle in a squatty brass holder. 
 Kerosene was used downstairs and in Mrs. Merrill's 
 apartments, but, quite properly, the stepmother 
 feared to let Phil have a lamp. 
 
 There was no immediate need even for a candle, 
 as a soft gray twilight still flooded the unat- 
 tractive spaces. All of the bureau drawers stood 
 open, showing where Phil had been " rooting," as 
 'Lijah would have said, for her clean clothes. The 
 soiled ones were strewed over the floor. 
 
 Phil threw herself face down upon the bed. " I 
 hate them ! " she ground through clenched teeth. 
 " I hate every one of them. I won't stay here. I 
 am going to run away and go to Cousin Betty. Oh, 
 if I could only live with Ma Giddings in her little 
 house, or with 'Kunciata and all the children next 
 door! I just naturally can't put up with Edgar 
 and Rebecca and my stepmother," she ended, in a 
 phrase borrowed straight from Mammy Jane. 
 
 Until now, pride and anger had held back her 
 tears. She felt the flood coming, and, as it were, 
 ran forward to meet it.
 
 PHILOMEL'S PROMISE 7$ 
 
 " Oh, Grandma," she sobbed, " Oh, Laddie, oh, 
 my dear Cousin Betty! I'm frightened up here all 
 alone by myself in this ugly room. I don't want to 
 be in the dark. I'm going to run off, first thing in 
 the morning, and find Cousin Betty, yes, I am, 
 and nobody can't stop me. I just won't stay in this 
 house." 
 
 Because of her cries, and the words spoken aloud, 
 Phil had not heard, outside of her door, the sound 
 of slow footsteps. Mrs. Merrill, fearing that she 
 had been a little severe, had quickly followed the 
 culprit. 
 
 Overhearing these sentences, the listener put her 
 hand out to the door ; the knob was just being turned 
 when Phil, under a new rush of anger, sat up in 
 bed, crying out, " They're all poor white trash, 
 that's what's the matter with them. Mammy said 
 they was going to be poor Yankee whites, and they 
 is, and they are. I won't live here, that's what ! " 
 
 Mrs. Merrill's curved hand fell away from the 
 knob. Her slender form stiffened. She went back 
 down the stairs, leaving Phil to have her battle out 
 alone. 
 
 For a long while the moans and loud sobs from 
 the bed continued. It was an experience so entirely 
 new to the child that in a way she was enjoying her 
 wretchedness. The cool blue darkness of an April 
 night stole in. Phil could not have believed that so 
 soon she would become sleepy, but strange weights 
 hung upon her lids. She snuggled down to her pil- 
 low. Over a fold of the bed clothes she could see,
 
 74 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 right out through the one shutterless window, a 
 great star. 
 
 It seemed to hang down from the sky like a ripen- 
 ing orange, so close that almost she could have 
 leaned out and grasped it. She smiled at the star, 
 and held one small hand outward. Then the sleepy 
 arm fell. The rumpled head sank down deeper, and 
 when next Phil looked up there was no star at all 
 only the pale pink glory of a new morning.
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 ANNUNCIATA'S SECRET 
 
 PHIL'S first sensation upon waking was that 
 of being chilled to the bone. There was 
 also a feeling of unusual stiffness. She curved her 
 small body around, like a cutworm at the root of a 
 plant, and began reaching sleepily down toward the 
 foot of the bed. At home there had always been, 
 even in summer, a light eider-down comforter. 
 Here she felt nothing but the flat, harsh surface of 
 a white honeycomb spread. 
 
 For some strange reason, Phil's feet seemed espe- 
 cially unmanageable. She forced her drowsy eyes 
 open a little wider, in order to look down upon them. 
 The shock of discovery drew her straight up in bed. 
 !NTo wonder she felt so funny. Her shoes and stock- 
 ings were still on ! 
 
 After passing her hands rapidly from throat to 
 ankle, Phile broke into a low laugh of excitement. 
 What a perfectly splendid idea to sleep always in 
 one's clothes, and save the tiresome bother of dress- 
 ing. 
 
 Jumping out of bed, she ran to her eastern win- 
 dow. The rim of the world showed in a long, dim 
 strip of grayish-green. From a single point came 
 beams of light, widening as they rose, and spreading
 
 76 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 apart like spokes of a fan. As she stood staring, the 
 upper edge of a blood-red sun appeared, and from 
 the birds in the wet orchard under her window came 
 little chirps and twitters, followed by shrill rounde- 
 lays of song. Mist lay thick in the valley, the one 
 object protruding from it being the Bertollottis' pert 
 red chimney. 
 
 All at once the events of Phil's crowded yesterday 
 came scurrying back into her mind. More had hap- 
 pened in that one day than in all of her quiet life 
 preceding it. 
 
 There was the terrible scene when Laddie had 
 tried to bite the teasing Edgar, her blind flight 
 with the dog, in order, as she believed, to save his 
 precious life, Pa and Ma Giddings in their mar- 
 vellous houseboat, the Hopkins' car, with the 
 jeering Constantia, Phil's first sight of the Ital- 
 ians, and her astonishment at the way the whole 
 family behaved when the doll they called Madonna 
 had been broken. 
 
 What a day! At this point in her reflections, 
 Phil moved impatiently, and murmured her favor- 
 ite " shucks." She did not want to remember what 
 followed. It was most uncomfortable to recall her 
 theft of the chicken and the pie; her spoken false- 
 hood; her deep humiliation before the spoiled Edgar 
 and hateful old Rebecca ; and, worst of all, the prom- 
 ise forced from her by the angry stepmother. Such 
 things were better forgotten, that is, if one were 
 fortunate enough to be able to forget. 
 
 By this time, the dim line of the horizon had
 
 ANNUNCIATA'S SECRET 77 
 
 changed to attractive looking trees. They grew, 
 Phil could see, on the farther side of the bay. The 
 placid water was like crimson glass, with a light 
 glowing up from beneath it. There was no wind 
 at all. The whole world lay quiet, shining and 
 content, awaiting the coming of day. 
 
 u I'm going," said Phil aloud, though she was 
 careful to speak in a low voice. " I'm all dressed, 
 and I'm going this minute to see my Laddie." 
 
 She walked softly to her door and opened it. At 
 first she heard nothing. Then from the room across 
 the hall came a disturbing sound. There seemed to 
 be some one rattling pebbles in a dish pan. The 
 stones would be swished violently about, then, with 
 a low hiss, be poured out into space, falling nowhere. 
 
 Phil's knees weakened. She had no courage to 
 move nearer to the uncanny noise. Then a con- 
 vulsive snort and shudder, not unlike the sneeze of 
 an old, old horse, told her that it was only Rebecca 
 snoring. 
 
 .Smiling with satisfaction, and quite bravely now, 
 the fugitive made her way downstairs. All of the 
 doors were locked, and some of them bolted in ad- 
 dition. It took what seemed a frightful length of 
 time to open the front one without too much squeak- 
 ing. But at last Phil found herself safely out- 
 side. 
 
 The cool and penetrating sweetness of the early 
 morning thrilled her. She longed to join her sing- 
 ing to that of the birds, but until the abhorred old 
 house was put far behind her, she did not dare.
 
 78 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Going rapidly down the sanded walk and out into 
 the road, Phil took care to avoid the heavy, dew-hung 
 grass, spread with square white cobwebs, exactly 
 like Annunciata's filet lace. She paused and re- 
 garded them gravely, and then sighed, recalling her 
 promise and thinking of the friend she was forced 
 to give up for ever. It gave her a melancholy pleas- 
 ure to reflect that no one, not even Mrs. Merrill, 
 could prevent her from passing in front of Annun- 
 ciata's home. 
 
 Her pulses beat a little quicker as she approached 
 it. No smoke was rising from the single chimney, 
 therefore the entire family must still be asleep. 
 
 Philomel was directly in front of the two charred 
 gateposts, and had abandoned all hopes of seeing any 
 of the Italians, when she heard a low, gentle voice 
 call, " Buon Jiorno, Signoria. Good morning." 
 
 Phil stood still. Not for an army of stepmothers, 
 all in malignant pursuit, could she have helped stop- 
 ping. She looked eagerly inward in search of the 
 speaker. 
 
 There, on a three-legged stool to the east of the 
 house, sat Annunciata. The risen sun seemed to 
 linger upon her, forming a halo of brightness over 
 the smoothly parted hair. The orange-colored ker- 
 chief, with its border of purple roses, showed above 
 the gray folds of an old blanket, for the early morn- 
 ing was chill. In one hand was a small wooden 
 hoop, in the other a needle, with a long, and from 
 this distance invisible, thread. 
 
 Annunciata rose, stuck the needle into the lace,
 
 ANNUNCIATA'S SECRET 79 
 
 and with a finger on her red lips, came swiftly out 
 to the gate. Philomel's heart fluttered and stirred 
 before the Italian girl's beauty. " Oh, she is 
 lovely ! " thought Phil. " Lovelier even than my 
 handkerchief box, 'cause this one can show her white 
 teeth." All at once the American's eyes stung with 
 tears, just because Annunciata was so exquisite. 
 
 When the two friends met, and exchanged further 
 greetings, Phil questioned, " Do you always get up 
 so awful early, 'Nunciata ? " 
 
 " Yes, but please speak in a whisper," said the 
 young lacemaker, with an apprehensive turn of her 
 face toward the house. " This is the time that I do 
 my finest filet. I have an order for eight pieces, but 
 it is a secret." 
 
 " Oh, what is the secret ? I'll never tell, 'Nun- 
 ciata. Cross my heart I won't," pleaded Phil. 
 
 " 'Course you won't. It's this," and Annunciata 
 held the small hoop closer. " You see how much 
 finer this lace is than the piece the Madre made me 
 show you ? " As she spoke, the dark head was bent 
 again, and the needle recommenced its dexterous 
 weaving to and fro. 
 
 " I can see that it is," cried Phil. " How won- 
 derful ! I wish I could do lace like that." 
 
 " I'd be glad to teach you," said Annunciata 
 eagerly. But Phil drew back. The remembered 
 promise to her stepmother sounded like a distant 
 church bell tolling for a funeral. 
 
 "I I can't," she stammered. " I never 
 could do work like that. Grandma tried to teach
 
 80 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 me tatting, but the thread always twisted up into 
 knots." 
 
 In speaking, her little body had been twisting too, 
 not unlike the tatting thread she spoke of. Was 
 she breaking her promise merely by stopping at the 
 gate? Cousin Betty had made it very clear how 
 necessary it was for a thoroughbred, as she called it, 
 to keep absolutely a given word. 
 
 Annunciata must have noticed the change, for 
 now she looked up and said hospitably, " Won't you 
 come in and sit on the porch? If we talk low, we 
 needn't wake the children. You see, this is my only 
 time for doing the fine lace, and I've got to finish 
 eight pieces before Cristofo's birthday." 
 
 " ~No, I can't come in. I can't pass through those 
 posts," replied Phil, and immediately her conscience 
 lightened. " Who is Cristofo, and why does he 
 want eight pieces of lace for his birthday ? " 
 
 The other laughed softly, and leaned against one 
 of the charred posts. The blanket had slipped down 
 to the earth, and the consequent blackening and 
 damage to her pretty kerchief did not seem to 
 trouble Annunciata in the least. 
 
 " Cristofo is my brother, my big brother," an- 
 swered she, the light upon her face deepening into 
 tenderness. " He is so good and brave, is our Cris- 
 tofo, and so strong. He can carry me in his arms as 
 if I were a "bambino," 
 
 " Could he lift me in his arms ? " cried Phil in- 
 stantly. " I am awfully heavy." 
 
 "He can lift even the Madre," Annunciata
 
 ANNUNCIATA'S SECRET 81 
 
 boasted. " He works in a store in the city, where 
 he lifts great boxes and drives them about in a 
 wagon, oh, a wagon bigger than our whole house 1 " 
 
 Phil's eyes distended. 
 
 " That's what makes him strong," nodded Annun- 
 ciata sagely. " But he will not always be the driver 
 in a cart. No, indeed! When my brother grows 
 up, he is to be a famous sculptor." 
 
 " What is a sculptor ? " demanded Phil. 
 
 "A person who makes beautiful things out of 
 clay," explained the sister of Cristofo. " Do you 
 see this lion, " she asked, holding up her square of 
 lace. 
 
 "Yes," replied Phil doubtfully. "But I never 
 knew that lions had wings, and wore crowns on their 
 heads." 
 
 " Oh, but this is a holy lion, a lion of San 
 Marco. They always wear crowns." 
 
 Phil was silent if not convinced. 
 
 " Well," hurried on Annunciata, who loved to 
 talk of the absent brother, " Cristofo can take just 
 a heap of common earth and from it make a lion like 
 this so natural that you'd think every minute he'd 
 spread his wings and fly away." 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " breathed the listener, now quite over- 
 come. 
 
 " It is true, and at night in the city, when the 
 hard day of driving is over, my brother works in 
 the shop of an Italian image-man. They make 
 beautiful Madonnas, like the one on our mantel, and 
 St. Joseph, and St. Ann, mother of the Blessed Vir-
 
 82 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 gin, and and all of our saints. He can do any- 
 thing, our Cristofo can," the proud sister declared, 
 beaming with pride. 
 
 " His own special saint is St. Cristofo," she added, 
 and holding the hoop with its needle out to the left, 
 with her right hand crossed herself piously. " The 
 day of his festa is July the twenty-fourth, and that 
 is my brother's birthday. You see now why I get 
 up in the dawn, so that the lace may be finished." 
 
 " Then you'll sell all your lace to buy Cristofo's 
 birthday present," Philomel stated rather than in- 
 quired. 
 
 "That's just it," the other girl nodded. "He 
 must have a real festa, and for it we must buy many 
 candles, and the fine olive oil that he loves, and eggs, 
 many eggs, for the making of a great cake, and 
 spaghetti, and onions, and also a small offering for 
 the poor, in the name of the Blessed St. Cristofo." 
 
 Phil stared. An offering for the poor! Surely 
 Annunciata must be joking. Were not the Bertol- 
 lottis themselves wretchedly poor ? Mrs. Merrill, as 
 well as Rebecca, had said they were beggars. 
 
 "But where, in a little place like Kington, will 
 you get anybody to buy such fine lace ? " Phil asked 
 hurriedly, and was glad that so practical a question 
 had flashed to her mind before Annunciata had no- 
 ticed her wonder. 
 
 The young Italian let her hands fall. On her 
 face grew a new sort of triumph. " That is the best 
 of this work," she declared. " The eight pieces are 
 already ordered. Last year in the convent I did
 
 ANNUNCIATA'S SECRET 83 
 
 some for the same kind lady, and now she wants 
 more." 
 
 " Does she live 'round here, 'Nunciata ? " 
 
 " Sister Agatha Mary told me it wasn't far from 
 Kington. But in plenty of time, before the last 
 square is finished, I shall have a letter from Sister 
 Agatha Mary giving me the address. The lady's 
 name is something with a ' hop ' to it. Doesn't that 
 sound funny ? " 
 
 " Not Hopkins not Mrs. Hopkins ! " 
 
 " Si si that's the name it ees Hopkins," 
 cried the other, forgetting, in her answering excite- 
 ment, to be careful of the American speech. " Why 
 do you look so strange? Why do your eyes get so 
 bright, Feelo-mel mia? " 
 
 " Because," and Phil caught the astonished girl 
 by the arm to pull her face about, " I can show you 
 the house where Mrs. Hopkins is living. See that 
 high tower poking up over the trees on the hills ? " 
 
 "Si, si" Annunciata replied breathlessly. 
 
 "And you see the stone wall starting from right 
 there at your corner ? " 
 
 " The wall all covered with thorns ? " 
 
 " The wall and that house are Mrs. Hopkins' ! " 
 announced Phil, making dramatic gestures toward 
 them. " Now what are you going to say, 'Nunci- 
 ata?" 
 
 But to the American girl's surprise, her companion 
 had nothing to say. Instead the smooth eyelids fell 
 slowly, while her lips began to murmur a prayer, 
 of which the only audible word was " Madonna."
 
 84 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 When Annunciata opened her eyes, she met Phil's 
 intent gaze fixed upon her. " I was thanking the 
 Blessed Virgin," she smiled, " not only because the 
 kind lady is near, but also for giving me a good 
 friend like you." 
 
 Phil gulped, and her happy face darkened. The 
 change was so sudden and unmistakable that Annun- 
 ciata cried out, " Did I say anything wrong ? Do 
 you not care to hear me speak of our Blessed Vir- 
 gin? I know some American children are like 
 that." 
 
 "No, you didn't say nothing wrong," answered 
 Phil in miserable embarrassment. " It was only 
 I just seem to remember something I'd forgot. 
 I must be going now; my dog is down at the beach, 
 waiting. Good-by, 'Nunciata, good-by ! " Impul- 
 sively she threw both red-jacketed arms around her 
 friend, and kissed the smooth brown cheek. 
 " Good-by," she whispered again, her voice catching, 
 and then, tearing herself away, ran down Bible 
 Eoad. 
 
 The Italian girl's luminous eyes followed on to 
 the crest of the hill, and beyond it. A radiant love 
 shone out from their dark, serene depths. When 
 Phil had entirely vanished from sight, Annunciata 
 stared once more up to the Hopkins' tall tower. 
 She crossed herself slowly, and with the whole of 
 her gentle heart steeped in thankfulness, she went 
 back towards her hideous home.
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 BREAKFAST WITH MA COMFOKT 
 
 THE white and green houseboat gleamed as if 
 the soft night had first sponged it, and after- 
 wards added a new coat of polish. 
 
 While yet at a distance Phil could see Mrs. Gid- 
 dings leaning far over the rail of the rear deck, 
 scraping out the bottom of a black iron pot, in which 
 she had been boiling hominy for breakfast. 
 
 From the sand bank near by a number of ex- 
 pectantly squawking fowls hurled themselves down 
 in a three-cornered flock, the pointed end of the flut- 
 tering wedge being set toward the scrapings. 
 
 To the accompanying rasp of her spoon against 
 hollow metal, Ma sang, in a voice peculiarly throaty 
 and plaintive: 
 
 " 'Twas a kam, still night 
 
 And the moo-hoon's pale light 
 Shon' soft o'er hill and vale 
 
 Where friends mute with grief 
 Stood aroun' the death bed 
 
 Of my poor lost Lilly Dale." 
 
 " Here, there ! You bullyin' red rooster ! " the 
 singer interrupted herself long enough to call down 
 sharply, " you stop shovin' them hens ! First thing 
 you know you'll find yourself bilin' for pie in this
 
 86 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 same pot. Take that ! " and, with the word " that," 
 a hot spoonful of the cereal landed squarely between 
 the cock's jostling wings. " I guess that dose will 
 fix you for a while, you green-tailed old glutton," 
 remarked Ma, and then, with the smile still on her 
 face, pitched her voice back into its mournful 
 cadence, and wailed forth the chorus: 
 
 " Oh, Lilly, Swe-e-e-t Lilly 
 
 Dee-year Lilly Dale, 
 
 Now the wild rose blossoms o'er the little green grave 
 'Neath the trees in the flow'ry vale." 
 
 Suddenly catching sight of the little girl, Mrs. 
 Giddings' mouth remained open with astonishment, 
 then widened to a pleasant smile as she cried out, 
 " Well, sakes alive ! If here ain't an early bird 
 cheepin'. Run away from your own house agin', I 
 suspicion," she added, but on her face and in her 
 rich, hearty tones there lurked no hint of reproof. 
 
 " Run right round by the front steps, dearie," she 
 beamed. " You've jest come on the notch to have 
 a bite of vittles with me and John Giddin's. How 
 do hominy with frizzled bacon and eggs sound to 
 your innards, little gran'-darter ? " 
 
 "They sound good!" responded Phil fervently. 
 " My old stepmother sent me to bed last night with- 
 out any supper, and I'm starving." 
 
 Ignoring Ma's suggestion to enter by the front 
 steps Phil threw herself flat to the wharf, face down- 
 wards, and began wriggling her thin legs outward 
 and backward over the poop.
 
 BREAKFAST WITH MA 87 
 
 Ma, laughing, reached up to assist. " There, my 
 lady-bird ! " she exclaimed, setting the child down 
 by her side, and leaning over, she gave to each cheek 
 an echoing kiss. 
 
 Phil had never been demonstrative, not even with 
 her beloved Cousin Betty. Her recent impetuous 
 embrace to Annunciata had been by way of farewell. 
 Yet now, throwing both arms about Ma Comfort, she 
 enclosed that stout form in a passionate caress. 
 Yes, after all, it was Ma she loved the best, better 
 than Pa. One could scarcely have squeezed Pa 
 Giddings, his bones might have cracked. But to 
 hug Ma was very like hugging a warm, sweet, soft 
 cake, she was so kind, so comforting and so 
 dear. 
 
 After another resounding caress, Mrs. Giddings 
 pushed Phil gently away, and holding her out at 
 arm's length demanded, " What you done, little girl, 
 to lead your stepma to sendin' you to bed without 
 no supper ? " 
 
 In an outburst of phrases, which for haste and 
 impetuosity could scarcely be exceeded by the 
 " Madre," Phil imparted the story of the Bartollottis, 
 of their weariness and hunger, their grief when the 
 salt for their polenta was missing, and then of the 
 food she, Phil, had been tempted to take them. She 
 recalled and repeated all of the cruel things said by 
 Rebecca and Mrs. Merrill, not merely about the 
 Italians, but also in rebuke to herself. Only just 
 at the last some instinct withheld her from relating 
 the final scene, in which she had given her step-
 
 S8 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 mother the promise never again to go near the Bible 
 Road shanty. 
 
 Ma listened in hard-held silence. Her round face 
 grew redder and redder. More than once she had 
 to bite on her lips to keep back the angry words that 
 sprung to them. She knew that it was wrong to 
 encourage the child in disliking her stepmother, but 
 the restraint took all of the good soul's control. 
 
 Nothing in her generous eyes could have been 
 quite so criminal as sending a little girl supperless 
 to bed, but she contented herself with muttering 
 " scratch-cats, and scrawney old shrimps " under her 
 breath. 
 
 " "What a darling little back gallery this is ! " ex- 
 claimed Phil, looking about her. 
 
 " Yes," answered Ma with complacency. " I calls 
 it my back kitchin porch, and that's what it is ; but 
 that old sailonnan, John Giddin's, he allows as it's 
 the ' poop.' You can't hardly break a parrot from 
 cussin', nor a seafarin' man from considerin' the 
 whole world his boat." 
 
 Whatever its real name, the spot was a cheerful 
 one. All about, outside of the railings, ran shelves 
 for the sunning and drying of dishes. There was 
 even a sink, to which water had been run in pipes 
 from the village. 
 
 Over it all, Pa had recently put into place a wide 
 summer awning, made of patched sails and upheld 
 by a framework of slim masts rescued from drift- 
 wood, which were set in sand at some little distance 
 from the boat.
 
 BREAKFAST WITH MA 89 
 
 To the foot of the poles richer earth had been 
 brought, and seeds planted. Already a circle of 
 vines at each base was beginning to do upward hand- 
 springs of green. 
 
 "What are they? What kinds of vines did you 
 plant, Mrs. Giddings ? " asked Phil, balancing her- 
 self far over the railing to peer down. " They look 
 to me sorter like butter-bean vines." 
 
 Ma gave a swift glance where the child pointed. 
 " Oh, them," she said carelessly, " no, they ain't 
 limas. When I lets eatin' things grow that near my 
 house they has to have flowers on them too. Them 
 top ones you see, gallopin' highest, is called scarlet 
 runners, and the dear knows that the name suits 
 them well. Almost before the seeds is well in the 
 ground they starts sprouting and if you stay there 
 long enough, they bears beans while you waits." 
 
 Phil answered the smile of mirthful exaggeration. 
 "And those pale, fuzzy leaves, with white 
 splotches ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Them is Japanese mornin'-glories. They can 
 climb, too, pritty things that they be! But John 
 tells me that Japanese legs is some shorter than 
 'Mericans, and maybe that is the reason the Japs 
 never quite catches up." 
 
 Phil continued to gaze down admiringly. " We 
 never had either of those sorts of vines at my home,'* 
 she announced. " But we had cypress, and dish-rag 
 gourds, and plain morning-glories." 
 
 "I got all them seeds," declared Ma. " They's 
 hid sumwheres away in a cracked teapot. My
 
 90 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 trouble about here is mainly in not havin' enough 
 plantin' room. But, mercy me ! " she broke off, 
 " this ain't cookin' John breakfast ! Pa Giddin's is 
 settin' in there by the cabin table, all alone by hisself, 
 jest patiently yearnin'. 'Spose you prance in, little 
 gran'darter," the cook slyly suggested, " and keep 
 company with poor Uncle John." 
 
 Phil flaunted her skirts, thereby showing that she 
 had not the slightest intention of " prancing." 
 " No, I want to stay right out here with you," she 
 cried wilfully. " And I want to see Laddie. Pa 
 said I could see him this morning. Where is my 
 Laddie?" 
 
 " To his island, of course," replied Ma. " The 
 sun ain't more'n up yet, my lambkin. Pa'll row 
 over and fetch him to you first thing after break- 
 fast. Poor Ma Giddin's couldn't have cooked or 
 set her table, or nothin', with that dog's tail swishin' 
 about like the limb of a tree ! " 
 
 Phil's eyes sparkled at the picture. "All right, 
 then," she agreed. "I'll wait, but I want Pa to 
 take me over after Laddie, in the rowboat." 
 
 Ma seemed not to hear this remark. " Now, next 
 thing is to fry these nice eggs," she announced. " I 
 know they is fresh, 'cause I've took them out of the 
 nests this same mornin'. I must show you where 
 the nests is, little Phil." 
 
 "Oh, please!" The child danced. "Show me 
 quick. Me and 'Lijah used to gather all the eggs 
 up at Grandma's." 
 
 The frying pan sent out a sudden ferocious sput-
 
 BREAKFAST WITH MA 91 
 
 tering as an egg was dropped in. Ma drew back, 
 and flung up an elbow to avoid the hot, flying par- 
 ticles of grease. 
 
 " Take the egg shells up, dearie," she said, " and 
 carry them out to the garbage pail on the porch, for 
 your Ma Comfort." 
 
 Phil set the white concaves one into another, and 
 had reached the small kitchen door when, with a low 
 cry of surprise and of pleasure, she drew back. 
 
 Ma looked around swiftly. " Oh, my squirrels," 
 she smiled. " My shadow children. They gallops 
 over this place all the day. The hens had jest 
 skeered them when you came up, but they don't stay 
 off long. Ain't they darlin' ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, they are," whispered Phil, now fearful 
 of disturbing them. " But why do you call them 
 ' shadow children/ Ma Comfort ? " 
 
 " Don't you see for yourself ? " said Ma. " They 
 is exactly the color of tree trunks and shadows. 
 The dear Lord, He made them that way, so's they 
 could hide theirselves easy. But nobody don't 
 trouble them round here, you can bet. Sometimes 
 when I'm settin' out there in the cabin, knittin' Pa's 
 socks, they comes in at the back, an' creeps the 
 whole length of the gangway to find me. Onst a 
 little wee fellow got hisself all twisted up in my 
 yarn. I guess he thought 'twas another gray squir- 
 rel in the makin'. He rolled over and over, and 
 squeaked like a mouse. I most split my two sides 
 a-laughin'." 
 
 " Oh, oh," wondered Phil, " I wish I had seen
 
 92 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 him! I wish one would come in right now and 
 crawl all over me." 
 
 "You be patient and gentle," said Ma, "and 
 some day they will. Is your egg shells dumped 
 yit?" 
 
 Phil, stepping cautiously, moved out to the gar- 
 bage bucket. In an instant she was back, her head 
 hung dejectedly. " They ran off," she announced in 
 a tone of despair. " They just kicked up their heels 
 and ran off, and I wasn't going to do a thing to 
 them." 
 
 " They can't know that yit," soothed Ma Com- 
 fort. " It won't take them long to sense your kindly 
 intentions, for they's got a whole passel o' gumption, 
 them little gray people. 
 
 " Sometimes, when I'm lonesome, I talk out loud 
 to them. Pa ketched me at it oust," Mrs. Giddings 
 went on, smiling at the recollection. " And he tried 
 to be teasin', sayin' that some fine day one of them 
 would up and talk back at me." 
 
 Phil stared wonderingly at her. "But all ani- 
 mals can talk once every year. Don't you remem- 
 ber?" 
 
 " Of course I do. On the eve of the Christ 
 Child's birth," and Mrs. Giddings' voice expressed 
 much self-contempt that she could have forgotten 
 anything so important. 
 
 " I know it's true," Phil hurried on, " because 
 once me and 'Lijah tried it! " 
 
 " You tried it ! " echoed Ma, looking a little 
 startled.
 
 BREAKFAST WITH MA 93 
 
 " Yes, that is, 'Lijah did. But it was me that 
 told him to. One Christmas eve he went out into 
 the stable, and slept with his goat, it's a big billy 
 goat named Miss Rosa, and just as the clock 
 struck twelve, the goat sat up and began talking as 
 plain as you and me." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " cried Ma, now thoroughly 
 aroused. 
 
 " Honest, I hope to die ! " Phil emphasized, mak- 
 ing a tiny cross over her heart. "He said that 
 'Lijah would surely grow up to be a great big man ; 
 and would turn as white as me ; and have a big gold 
 front tooth, and always wear yellow shoes on his 
 foots, his feet, I mean," she corrected. " Mammy 
 and 'Lijah always calls them ' foots.' ' 
 
 Ma's face became very red. She was trying not 
 to break into loud laughter. Suddenly the whole 
 place was full of a black stinging smoke. " Laws 
 V mercy ! " wailed the cook, " there's all my eggs 
 burnin' to a cinder." She snatched the skillet off 
 of the fire and ran out to the poop. 
 
 But very little damage had been done. Only one 
 white and gold egg was spoiled. In a few minutes 
 breakfast was on the table, and three bright, con- 
 tented faces bent over it, to Pa's simple prayer, 
 " Thank you, dear Father, for this food, and for all 
 other blessings, in the Name of your Son, our 
 Friend and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen." 
 
 Never was there such soft, delicious hominy, 
 never such savory eggs, nor bacon so crackly and so 
 sweet ! Instead of the big cup of coffee such as she
 
 94 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 and Pa were drinking, Ma Comfort had set out for 
 Phil an old-fashioned goblet of milk. 
 
 The child pushed it away. " I don't like milk," 
 she said a little fretfully. 
 
 Mrs. Giddings looked incredulous. "!N"ot like 
 this milk ! " she cried, as if in pained astonishment. 
 "And it come from the gentlest, the purtiest cow 
 in all the world. She is brown as a chipmunk, and 
 her eyes is as big and lovin' as them of the little 
 Eye-talian girl you've been talkin' about." 
 
 "It-talian, not Eye-talian," Phil corrected, her 
 eyes fixed dreamily upon her goblet. 
 
 Ma winked across slyly at John. 
 
 " That sweet-tempered cow," the wheedler went 
 on, as if to the air. " She's the best friend and 
 only support of an old, old lady, Mis' Gray, what 
 lives a piece down Beach Avenue. We furnishes 
 her fish, clams, and oysters, and in paymint, she 
 let us have more milk than we need. She's a God- 
 fearin' soul, is Mis' Gray. And wouldn't she and 
 her cow feel jest turrible, if they knew at this min- 
 ute that Ma's little girl was a-turnin' her purty nose 
 up at their milk. Tcht, tcht, it's too bad," con- 
 cluded Mrs. Giddings, with a sigh. 
 
 Phil suddenly lifted her glass, and took a long 
 draught. 
 
 " Why, it is good," she confessed. " I didn't 
 know I liked milk at all. I never would drink it 
 for Cousin Betty. I reckon Miss Gray's cow must 
 be different from our old red muley." Over the 
 small childish mouth, was a dripping moustache of
 
 BREAKFAST WITH MA 95 
 
 milk well mingled with cream. Ma and Pa chuckled 
 until the cabin boards shook. 
 
 " Now," remarked Mrs. Giddings, wiping her eyes 
 on her napkin, " don't you want to tell me and Pa 
 somethin' more 'bout your new friends the Eye- the 
 It-alians," she hastily amended. 
 
 Nothing loath, Phil recounted her adventures to 
 Uncle John. 
 
 " If it warn't for that turrible furrin name to 
 them," complained Ma in a troubled way, " I don't 
 b'leeve I can ever get it. Berry-loni Betty- 
 lokki " 
 
 " But Ma," broke in Phil, " it's not one bit hard 
 when 'Nunciata shows you. Look, I'll spell it out 
 here on the table with my fingers. It's like this, 
 Ber tol lot tee in four parts. That's not so 
 hard now, is it, Pa Giddings ? " 
 
 " Easy as skeerin' minnows/' Pa agreed amiably. 
 
 Mrs. Giddings' attention had drifted away from 
 instruction. Her light-brown eyes were fixed 
 thoughtfully on space. " I shouldn't much won- 
 der," she mused, speaking aloud, " if I didn't drop 
 into them Eyetalians later on, when I goes to the 
 village. There's some shoppin' Yes, I'll drop 
 in, jest to show them that they is some has a warm 
 welcome to give them. What you think about it, 
 John?" 
 
 The man who, unnoticed, had been watching his 
 wife's kindly face, answered heartily, " I think it's 
 jest right. I want you should do it. What I'm 
 puzzlin' myself over is this," here his corn-flower
 
 96 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 blue eyes began to twinkle, "whether, when you 
 starts, there mout be, by some merricle as it ware, a 
 big basket slung to your left arm." 
 
 " You get right outter this house, old John Gid- 
 din's ! " cried his wife, the point of her breakfast 
 knife held threateningly toward him. "You is 
 everlastin'ly tryin' to tease me about that basket. 
 I'd jest like to ask who is the quickest to cram it, 
 when I'm gettin' ready to take it abroad ? " 
 
 John rose and came around to the speaker. One 
 lean arm went over her fat shoulders. " You know 
 it's all right, Comfort wife," he said tenderly. 
 " Whatever you does, I'm with you, and the 
 kinder to others you be, the more your old husband 
 dotes on you. God bless you, my girl." 
 
 The two friends clasped hands, and looked for a 
 moment steadily, one into the eyes of the other. 
 Phil had a queer sensation, as of being in church 
 when the benediction was uttered. 
 
 But now Pa was turning to go out. Phil sprang 
 after him, and held tight to the gray jersey 
 sleeve. 
 
 " Are you going for Laddie right now, Pa ? " she 
 asked breathlessly. "Won't you take me oh, 
 please ! " 
 
 At the table Mrs. Giddings cleared her throat. 
 John's smile disappeared. " You must ask your 
 Ma Comfort 'bout that, little Miss Phil," he re- 
 joined. " Ma bosses me and everything else she 
 can reach to. What you say 'bout it, Ma ? " 
 
 Ma's silence was ominous. Phil turned slowly
 
 BREAKFAST WITH MA 97 
 
 around. " You did run away agin, didn't you 3 " 
 inquired Ma gravely. 
 
 Phil hung her bright head for reply. 
 
 " What time does your folks, that is, Mis' Merrill 
 an' her f ambly, eat their breakfast ? " pursued the 
 inquisitor. 
 
 "At half-past seven," replied Phil with a glance 
 at the battered old ship clock that hung over the 
 center of the mantle. 
 
 " It's jest goin' six bells," declared Ma, and, as if 
 in instant obedience, the sharp ting-ting ting-ting, 
 rang out through the cabin. 
 
 " Yes, jest seven," said Mrs. Giddings. " And 
 that gives you a-plenty time to get back before they'se 
 begun frettin'. What you think for yourself, 
 dearie ? " she smiled. 
 
 " I 'spose I must go, though I hate to," Phil mur- 
 mured in a meek voice. 
 
 John went out. Ma put forth a hand and drew 
 the child closer. " You'se a Lamb o' God, that's 
 what you is," she said tenderly. " You'se Ma Com- 
 fort's dear, good little girl. Now when you gets 
 home, Ma wants you to walk right up to your stepma, 
 and look into her eyes sweet and straight, like you'se 
 lookin' in mine. Tell her jest where you'se been, 
 and ask her a pleasant good mornin'. Will you do 
 this for Ma 2 " 
 
 "Yes yes, cross my heart, Ma. I'll do any- 
 thing you ask me," cried Phil, her face glowing. 
 
 Mrs. Giddings laughed as the child went through 
 the mystic performance of crossing her heart. But
 
 98 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Phil liked doing it now more than ever before. It 
 seemed somehow to take her the least bit nearer to 
 her lost, lovely, new friend, Anminciata. 
 
 " Then good-by. Here, stoop down, dearie ; let 
 Ma straighten your tammy-shanty. You ain't no 
 shadow child in this house, not much," beamed Ma 
 lovingly. " You're a big streak of sunlight right 
 down from the sky."
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 PHIL IS PUT INTO HAENESS 
 
 WON'T even wink at the Bertollotti house 
 when I go past it this time," Phil promised 
 herself, as she started along Bible Road on her way 
 home. But in spite of the heroic resolve, it was 
 impossible to prevent one glance from straying in 
 towards the open door. What she saw there made 
 her falter, and catch in her breath with surprise 
 and delight. 
 
 It was the baby, the little soft bundle called Rosa 
 Maria, whom she had thought a mere infant of about 
 six months of age, now standing alone, except that 
 one tiny brown fist clutched at the door frame for 
 support. 
 
 " Rosa Ma-ree-ya. Hello there, Rosa Ma- 
 ree-ya ! " Phil called very softly, and waved her 
 right hand. The baby did not attempt to wave back, 
 but the red mouth opened slowly and widened to an 
 entrancing smile, showing four tiny teeth, as white 
 as bleached bits of shell on the seashore from which 
 the older girl was returning. 
 
 " Oh, I wish I could buy Rosa Maria ! " exclaimed 
 Phil to herself. " They've got plenty of others in 
 there." Then she sighed and reflected, " Even if I 
 had her, my stepmother would send her away like
 
 100 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 she did Laddie. Anyway, I've got Ma Comfort and 
 Pa Giddings." 
 
 As Phil entered the Merrill dining room, she saw 
 that Edgar and his mother were standing together 
 near the window. A fresh bandage had been put 
 on the boy's injured hand. 
 
 The meal was not yet served, but odors of coffee 
 and bacon streaming in from the kitchen proclaimed 
 that it was all ready. 
 
 " Er-hurhn! old Miss Phil," Edgar greeted her. 
 " You'll catch it good and hard this time for running 
 away again." 
 
 " Hush, Edgar, this is none of your affair," re- 
 proved Mrs. Merrill. Her face, Phil had noticed, 
 seemed unusually anxious and pale. At sight of 
 her stepdaughter it had brightened. 
 
 Phil marched straight up to her. " Good morn- 
 ing, Mother," she said, exactly as she had promised 
 Ma Comfort to do it. " I woke up awful early, and 
 when I couldn't go back to sleep, I thought I'd go 
 down to the beach to see Laddie. But I didn't, be- 
 cause he's over on Treasure Island. And that's all." 
 
 Mrs. Merrill went direct to the table, and sat in 
 her usual place. " I'm not going to scold you again, 
 Philomel," she said kindly, "though I was much 
 troubled when I heard you were not in your room. 
 We had better understand now, once and for all, that 
 you are never to leave this house or this yard with- 
 out my permission. I must know where you are." 
 
 " Yes'm nome yes'm," answered Phil, wrig- 
 gling.
 
 PHIL IS PUT INTO HARNESS 101 
 
 Again Edgar jeered. " Yes'm nome, yes'm 
 nome," he mimicked. " What kind of crazy talk is 
 that ? It sounds just like niggers. You talk like 
 a nigger talks, anyway, Rebecca said " 
 
 " Edgar ! " exclaimed Mrs. Merrill with asperity, 
 "what on earth has come over you lately; you are 
 not the same child. You're not to speak up in that 
 rude way to your sister ! " 
 
 Edgar, staring for a moment as if not believing 
 his ears, rubbed his eyes on his sore hand and began 
 to whimper. Mrs. Merrill drew him to her breast. 
 " There, there, Mother will not scold any more. 
 You see, Philomel, how sensitive he is. He's sorry 
 already, aren't you, mother's boy? We must re- 
 member how much younger he is, and that he has 
 never been very strong." 
 
 " Yes'm," growled Phil. 
 
 " Really, Philomel," said the stepmother, frown- 
 ing slightly, " I would prefer that you did not 
 say l no, ma'm ' and ' yes, ma'm.' It is not the cus- 
 tom in this part of America. It would be better for 
 you to say merely ' yes, mother.' ' 
 
 " Yes, Mother," the girl repeated wearily. 
 
 Phil turned, and was moving toward the hall door, 
 when Rebecca, entering from the kitchen, came for- 
 ward with her big japanned tray. 
 
 " Stop, Philomel," Mrs. Merrill commanded. 
 " You must come and sit with us quietly at the table, 
 though I suppose you have already eaten at the 
 Giddings'. That's right ; take your napkin from its 
 ring and spread it on your lap."
 
 102 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Phil obeyed in absolute silence. 
 
 " Did you have something with the Giddings ? " 
 Mrs. Merrill persisted. 
 
 " Yes'm yes, Mother, I did, and I can't eat a 
 thing now. May I be excused ? " 
 
 "Not until your brother and I have finished. 
 We did not rise before dawn, and terrify a whole 
 houseful of people. Stay right where you are, and 
 don't sag over like that. Above all things, don't 
 sulk. I can't abide sulky children." 
 
 Phil threw a long, meaning glance at young Ed- 
 gar, who just then was pouting because his cereal 
 did not have enough sugar, but the girl held her 
 peace. 
 
 After breakfast Mrs. Merrill gave orders to the 
 two children. " Edgar, gather up some of your 
 toys, and carry them out to the piazza in the sun- 
 shine. Don't step down to the yard until the dew 
 has thoroughly dried off. Philomel, I want you 
 should come upstairs with me." 
 
 The girl followed, wondering what was to happen 
 next in the big, dreary house. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill led on without delay to Phil's 
 room. 
 
 "Look at that floor," said the stepmother, point- 
 ing downwards. " It is disgraceful ! Pick those 
 clothes up and take them out into the hall, where 
 you'll find a laundry basket in one corner. Be sure 
 you shut down the lid." 
 
 Phil stooped, caught up a few pieces at random, 
 almost threw them at the basket, and returned.
 
 PHIL IS PUT INTO HARNESS 103 
 
 " Where is your night dress ? Wasn't it with 
 those things on the floor ? " asked Mrs. Merrill. 
 
 " Nome no, Mother, it's hanging in the 
 closet." 
 
 Mrs. Merrill looked pleased. " That's where it 
 should be, of course," she remarked graciously. 
 " But leaving your room so early this morning, I 
 thought you might have forgotten to hang it back 
 on its hook." 
 
 " Nome, I didn't forget," grinned Phil impishly. 
 The grin proved to be a sort of tonic, and she laughed 
 to herself as she dashed here and there over the floor, 
 gathering up the strewn garments. 
 
 " You will soon acquire the habit of neatness, 
 Philomel," said the stepmother approvingly, as she 
 noted in the increased activity. " The next thing 
 we have to do is to make your bed." 
 
 Phil drew herself up, and stood gazing down at 
 the mattress. Mrs. Merrill stared. 
 
 " Why don't you begin ? Surely a great girl like 
 you must know how to do it ! " 
 
 "I should say that I didn't," Phil flaunted. 
 " Real ladies don't ever make up their beds." 
 
 Mrs. Merrill's face crimsoned. " In this part of 
 the world you will find that they frequently do," she 
 said acidly. " Furthermore, you happen to be one 
 of those who have got to learn. Here, catch hold 
 of the corner of that sheet! Such ridiculous airs! 
 In my house little girls learn how to be useful as 
 well as happy. Put that pillow of yours in the 
 window to sun."
 
 104 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 When the bed was smooth, and the whole room 
 aridly neat, Mrs. Merrill began a brief tour of in- 
 spection. 
 
 Phil remained in the exact center of the ragged 
 arpet, her lids downcast, her face that of a juvenile 
 martyr. She heard the stepmother come to a pause 
 in front of her, and knew quite well that the con- 
 scientious lady was puzzled as to what was next to 
 come. 
 
 Deliberately, and rather naughtily, the scornful 
 one kept silent. It was only upon hearing a long, 
 troubled sigh from her companion that she remarked, 
 " Well, if I am all through with being a servant, I'd 
 like to stay up here by myself, and finish unpacking 
 my trunk." 
 
 In her relief, Mrs. Merrill let the impertinence 
 pass by. 
 
 " An excellent idea," she rejoined. " In your 
 unpacking, be sure to return to the trunk all the 
 things you do not need, and do not leave them strewn 
 about your nicely-swept floor." 
 
 " Yes, Mother," said Phil demurely. 
 
 When the door closed, Phil ran eagerly to the little 
 horsehair chest, lifted the upper till, and began a 
 furious scrambling among the tumbled mass at the 
 bottom. She knew what she was after, and in an 
 instant drew it forth. It was the handkerchief box 
 "with the picture that looked like Annunciata. 
 
 The likeness was truly wonderful. For a long, 
 long time Phil gazed upon it. Then she took it to 
 her cheap dressing table, and set it against the mir-
 
 PHIL IS PUT INTO HARNESS 105 
 
 ror with the same care that Annunciata had showed 
 in placing the big blue and white doll. 
 
 The smiling face seemed to diffuse a sort of per- 
 fume in the bare little room. It was as good as 
 having a bunch of roses. 
 
 " If I ever get any more nickels to spend," said 
 the devout worshipper to herself, her eyes gloating 
 over the highly colored print, " I'm going to buy 
 two candles in little glass candle-sticks, and a white 
 shell with gold edges, to put before my picture." 
 
 Phil went back to the trunk, and this time ex- 
 tracted a lot of battered and beloved fairy tales. 
 For quite a while she read, but the birds in the or- 
 chard seemed calling to her, and the sunbeams to be 
 beckoning, " come out." 
 
 She took up one of her favorites, " The Swiss 
 Family Robinson," and tucking it under her arm 
 went downstairs. It was some time before she dis- 
 covered her stepmother, who, with Rebecca, was in 
 the kitchen making chocolate layer cake, while Ed- 
 gar pryed and peeped into each sweet-smeared dish 
 and cooking vessel. 
 
 Phil strode rather defiantly up to Mrs. Merrill. 
 " You don't let me to go anywhere that I want to," 
 she accused, " then what can I do ? " 
 
 At the moment, Mrs. Merrill was spreading a 
 layer with chocolate, the hot fumes making her eyes 
 smart. 
 
 " Why, anything you like, Philomel," she an- 
 swered in some irritation. " I don't care what you 
 do, just so long as you do not leave this lot."
 
 106 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Can I go down into the orchard ? " persisted 
 Phil. 
 
 " Yes yes, of course you can go to the orchard. 
 It is ours." 
 
 " Can I climb up into any of the trees where I 
 want to climb up ? " 
 
 Mrs. Merrill laid down the spreading knife, and 
 sent a despairing look for sympathy toward grim 
 Rebecca. 
 
 " Yes, Philomel," she replied. " You can go to 
 the orchard, you can climb any tree, that is, if you 
 have been brought up to climb. I should never have 
 allowed a little girl of mine to go up into trees, like 
 a tomboy. I never let Edgar go either, but if you're 
 accustomed to " 
 
 She was here interrupted by Edgar's nasal pipe. 
 " Tomboy, tomboy Phil Merrill's a tomboy. 
 Ain't Phil a tomboy, Mommer ? " 
 
 Phil, not thinking it worth while to pause for a 
 retort, hurried out, the last remark in her hearing 
 being one sourly uttered by Rebecca, about " spiled, 
 pestiferous gal-children." 
 
 Once out in the green grass of the orchard, all of 
 the stings and frets of indoors appeared to vanish. 
 Wandering from tree to old leaning tree, Phil be- 
 gan to hum under her breath, the first verse of a 
 song that Cousin Betty loved, 
 
 " All in the April morning, 
 April airs were abroad ; 
 The sheep with their little lambs 
 Pass'd by me on the road."
 
 PHIL IS PUT INTO HARNESS 107 
 
 " There isn't any lamb around, unless it's me," 
 Phil broke off, to say aloud. " Ma Comfort called 
 me one, and maybe I am," here she stared critically 
 upward among the branches. " If the flowers keep 
 on coming out this way, each of the round old trees 
 will look just like a sheep with pink wool." 
 
 The child jumped up and down, laughing at her 
 own fancy. 
 
 " It would be the funniest thing," she rippled, 
 " to see a whole hillside of sheep with pink wool ! " 
 With her eyes on the trees, she strolled farther and 
 farther. On the slope of the hill, she knew well 
 that each step took her, not only away from her 
 home, but, to the same degree, closer to the forbid- 
 den Bertollottis. 
 
 " Shucks ! " she exclaimed. " My stepmother 
 said just so's I didn't leave the lot. There isn't any 
 harm in going to that broken-down stone fence where 
 I came through yesterday; and I'm going."
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 A BROKEN BEANCH 
 
 CLOSE by this gap in the stone wall through 
 which, only yesterday, Phil had flown in quest 
 of salt, grew the largest and most precariously out- 
 leaning tree in the whole orchard. 
 
 From the main trunk sprang three limbs, one 
 much longer and thicker than the others, and this 
 big one seemed reaching and straining out toward 
 the Bertollotti cottage, as if determined to pinch off 
 the perky red chimney. 
 
 It was from the end of this limb that a good view 
 ould be had right down into the small, muddy clear- 
 ing which, for the present, must serve the Italians 
 for a back yard. And luckily, on this particular 
 branch, the foliage had grown thicker, and the blos- 
 soms had opened more widely than upon the other 
 trees. Up there a squirrel or a bird would be in 
 safe hiding. " A bird or a squirrel," mused Phil, 
 " Then why not a girl ? " 
 
 For a long moment she stood silently " fighting 
 the rope of temptation." No telling what might or 
 might not have happened, but, just then, came the 
 loud ringing of the Merrills' luncheon bell. 
 
 Phil started at the sound, looked around carefully 
 over one shoulder, and deliberately dropping her
 
 A BROKEN BRANCH 109 
 
 book, so she would have an excuse for returning to 
 the orchard, walked back to the house. 
 
 Throughout the austere meal, as she crunched 
 Graham gems and sipped " cambric " tea, Phil con- 
 tinued to think of the long flower-tipped limb that 
 reached out to the little shanty in Bible Road. 
 
 Edgar, sickened with the over-sweet chocolate 
 which he had scraped and " licked " from various 
 platters during the process of cake making, now re- 
 fused his food, and crouched down in a chair, began 
 to whine. 
 
 Rebecca and Mrs. Merrill became anxious. " I'll 
 declare," said the mother plaintively, " I don't know 
 what I shall do about Edgar. He has no appetite 
 at all" 
 
 " That's because you let him lick up every scrap 
 of the chocolate, and never gave me even a 
 taste," complained Philomel with startling candor. 
 " There's a chunk on his upstairs lip right now. I 
 was just dying for some, but nobody gave me a bit." 
 
 A brief, uncomfortable silence followed, which 
 neither one of the elders seemed able to break. 
 
 Edgar sent out a small, upcurved tongue in quest 
 of the stray " chunk." After some blind feeling 
 about, the brown crumb was secured and drawn into 
 its final cave of destruction. As he chewed the last 
 fragment, Edgar, looking at Phil, bleated seduc- 
 tively : 
 
 " If you'll stay and play jacks with me after din- 
 ner, I'll save you half my lickings next time they 
 is cake."
 
 110 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Phil stopped munching her muffin, in order to 
 give the proposition due thought. 
 
 She had intended going out immediately, yet on 
 the other hand, she possessed an inordinate love of 
 sweet " lickings." In Mammy's big kitchen at 
 Grandma's a certain lot of cake-dough, jelly, or pre- 
 serves was always left for the one petted child of 
 the household. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill, seeing the girl hesitate, hurried to 
 say, " Of course, Edgar, your sister will be only too 
 glad to play with you, won't you, Philomel ? " 
 
 " Yes I reckon," answered Phil, without any 
 noticeable ardor. " But I can't do it for long, and 
 Edgar mustn't forget about the next lickings. He'll 
 have to show me how to play." 
 
 " Gee ! " cried the boy, his astonishment making 
 his voice clear and firm. " You don't know how ! 
 That's because you are a girl, and girls ain't no good, 
 Rebecca said so. Come 'long, I can teach you jacks 
 in a minute." 
 
 In a moment more, the jacks could Ke heard 
 clicking. Phil found it quite an exciting game, but 
 at the end of an hour was beginning to long for her 
 book and the orchard, when Edgar, lifting his head, 
 cried out, " Gee ! there's another Wop coming. It's 
 a big one too. Just you wait till I pick up a rock 
 to throw at him, walking past our house like he 
 owned it, just you wait ! " 
 
 Phil's eyes flew to the road. A tall, thin dark- 
 faced boy was moving rapidly toward them. In an 
 instant she knew who it was, Annunciata's adored
 
 A BROKEN BRANCH 111 
 
 big brother, tbe boy who drove a wagon as large as 
 the Bertollotti cottage, and could make images so 
 real that they all but took wing. 
 
 Edgar had scrambled down the steps for a stone, 
 when his sister hurled herself upon him. " Don't 
 you dare chunk that boy ! " she cried angrily. 
 " He's got just as much right on Bible Road as you 
 have. You put down that rock." 
 
 For answer Edgar twisted himself sidewise in the 
 approved attitude for " chunking." Phil caught his 
 arm roughly, literally shaking the stone from his 
 grasp. 
 
 " You lemme 'lone, now ! " Edgar struggled and 
 screamed, kicking viciously at his sister's legs. 
 " You're breaking my arm ; you're hurtin' my hand ! 
 Mommer ! Mommer ! " 
 
 The Italian boy slackened his pace and looked in. 
 " Is anything wrong, Miss ? " he asked, touching his 
 cap. " Can I help you with the little fellow ? " 
 
 " No, thank you," said Phil, turning red with 
 shame and excitement. " He was starting to throw 
 rocks at you, but I stopped him." 
 
 " Oh, is that all," remarked Cristofo. His smil- 
 ing face of a minute before blackened under a scowl. 
 
 Edgar, released, ran into the house, bellowing at 
 each step. " Mommer, Phil hurt me. She twisted 
 my arm, she hurt my sore hand too. Mommer! 
 Oh, Mommer ! " 
 
 Philomel scarcely heard him. She had seen Cris- 
 tofo. He had spoken to her, called her " Miss," and 
 lifted his cap as if she had been a grown-up young
 
 112 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 lady. This was Saturday, and he was on his way 
 home. 
 
 Swiftly as one of Ma Comfort's shadow children, 
 Phil ran back into the orchard, sped straight to the 
 tree with the great reaching branch, and began to 
 scramble up toward it. Once in the crotch she stood 
 upright, staring out over the marsh to the cottage. 
 Not a soul was in sight, but from within the small 
 house came a clamor of laughter and voices. 
 
 Phil pulled herself up to the big limb, and worked 
 her way along its surface, as she had watched squir- 
 rels do. From this position, she could see well down 
 into the Italian's bare expanse of a garden, but still 
 no one came. She was panting a little from the 
 exertion of climbing, and glad to lie flat on the 
 branch, pumping her breath back, as 'Lijah would 
 have said. 
 
 The sounds from the cottage grew fainter. The 
 silence that hung in the apple tree seemed to deepen, 
 and now Phil could hear very plainly the trickle and 
 falling of water as it escaped over and through the 
 log dam that held up the Hopkins' pond. 
 
 Directly beneath her, and showing among stiff 
 stems of alder and willow, the dark water glinted. 
 It was just there she had bogged only yesterday. 
 She had not dreamed of the hidden stream, and 
 gazing down upon it, she shuddered at the recollec- 
 tion. Suppose she had stepped on a snake? 
 
 All at once, in merry confusion, the entire Ber- 
 tollotti family streamed out through the back door 
 of the cottage.
 
 A BROKEN BRANCH 113 
 
 Cristofo came first, and on his shoulder was 
 perched Rosa Maria, one hand clutching deep in the 
 boy's black hair. All were laughing; all eyes were 
 turned to Cristofo and the baby. Phil, in her tree, 
 laughed with them, though softly, so that she might 
 not be heard. 
 
 The younger children trod on the bare toes of 
 each other, in their efforts to retain a clutch on the 
 big brother's sadly worn trousers. Annunciata and 
 her mother, their arms about each other, kept a little 
 in the rear. 
 
 The Madre, as if suddenly recollecting something, 
 glanced back to the cottage, and then up to the small 
 red chimney from which issued a dense smoke. 
 Phil could hear the Italian ejaculations as, reaching 
 up for Rosa Maria, she indicated that she desired to 
 take the little one indoors with her. 
 
 Finally detaching the small, protesting thing, 
 Mrs. Bertollotti, and then Annunciata, covered her 
 with kisses, and all three started toward the house. 
 Phil gave out a sigh. Why shouldn't she be there 
 among them, hugging Rosa Maria, and helping An- 
 nunciata with the polenta ? 
 
 The three younger ones, Tonio, Lucia, and little 
 fat Hugo, now turned away, and made for the red 
 bank. Seeing Cristofo alone, Annunciata hurried 
 back to him, said something in a low voice, and then, 
 taking his arm, led him into the marsh, straight to- 
 ward the apple tree. Phil's heart bounded with ex- 
 citement. Yes, they were stopping, just beneath her 
 bough.
 
 114 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Now," began Cristofo, in Phil's own American 
 speech, " now the kids can't hear, tell me, can you 
 manage to get along in this fierce hole till things 
 get a little better for us, Annunciata ? " 
 
 " Sure ! Cristofo mio" smiled the sister. 
 " There's two good rooms, and it's fine for the chil- 
 dren in the country. Don't worry about us at all, 
 but quick, how is father ? You don't tell the real 
 news to Madre, and I want the truth about him." 
 
 The boy gave a low sort of moan, and dragged off 
 his cap as if for more sunshine. " The bones in his 
 legs are mendin' all right," he replied. " The doc- 
 tor says to-day he was gettin' on well as they hoped, 
 but he looks turrible sick to me. That explosion, 
 put one of his lungs out of business. Poor Padre 
 is all the time wantin' more air, and the other sick 
 people won't let the windows be open. It's fierce ! " 
 
 " Oh, Mother of God ! " sighed Annunciata. " If 
 we could only bring him out here where the air is so 
 fine!" 
 
 " I wishes we could," said the other. t( But we 
 can't now ; it costs too much money, and noway they 
 wouldn't let him leave the hospital." 
 
 His sister's head drooped. She moved closer to 
 Cristofo and leaned rather heavily against his thin 
 shoulder. " Now don't you cry, little sis," the boy 
 pleaded gently. " It don't do no good to cry. Say," 
 he broke off in more practical tones, " what was 
 Tony tryin' to tell me 'bout bein' run off the grounds 
 up there ? " In speaking, Cris pointed with his free 
 hand toward the Hopkins'.
 
 A BROKEN BRANCH 115 
 
 "It was this morning," answered Annunciata, 
 wiping her eyes on her brother's coat sleeve. "I 
 wasn't going to tell you, but as Tonio has " 
 
 " Well, go on, I got to hear it," demanded the boy. 
 
 " Jo and Tonio climbed up the bank, like children 
 do in new places, and at the top they were digging 
 some dandelions for salad, when two men garden- 
 ers, I 'spect came running with sticks, calling 
 them awful bad names and saying if they ever 
 show their heads over the bank another time, Mr. 
 Hopkins is going to have the law on them. Jo was 
 so scared he fell down, and rolled to the bottom of 
 the hill, but Tonio he shook his fists at them, he's 
 so brave ! What was the harm of taking a few dan- 
 delions that were being dug up and thrown on the 
 trash heap?" 
 
 Cristofo frowned, but his voice when he answered 
 was steady. " Tell 'em not to climb so high again, 
 'cause they was on other people's property. The first 
 two lessons you got to learn in America is ' keep ofi 
 the grass ' and ' no trespassin'.' It's the way things 
 are done here, and I guess it's all right. In that 
 open field acrost the road, there's plenty of dande- 
 lions." 
 
 " Yes, I've showed them already," nodded Annun- 
 ciata, " they won't go up that bank any more. The 
 boys are good, and they mind what I tell them, but 
 it was mean, of those gardeners to call them bad 
 names." 
 
 " Oh, it ain't hard to run into meanness in this 
 land ! " exclaimed Cris darkly. " I get my full
 
 116 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 share in the city, you can bet. Just now, on my way 
 here, a scrawny boy over there," he jerked his thumb 
 toward the Merrills, " tried to stone me." 
 
 Overhead the flower-decked apple bough set up 
 such a wild agitation that it was marvellous the two 
 speakers did not see it. Phil yearned to cry down, 
 " But you don't say that I stopped him. Tell 'Nun- 
 ciata that I stopped him, Cristofo, and he's only my 
 half-brother too and it wasn't the half that is 
 mine that chunked rocks." 
 
 The boy had drawn himself up to his full, slender 
 height. His head turned slowly around, until his 
 eyes fell again upon the hideous cottage. The long- 
 fingered brown hands were thrust through his hair. 
 His cap fell unperceived to the ground. 
 
 " Anmmciata," he said gravely, though with an 
 undertone of excitement. " I just got a hunch." 
 
 " A hunch ! Mother of God, what is that ? " asked 
 Annunciata, alarmed. "Is it a bad pain you are 
 having ? " 
 
 Her brother laughed. " It's American for idea. 
 Yes, I believe I've struck a big idea ! " 
 
 " Tell me quick," implored the girl, much as Phil 
 so often said it. " I can't wait." 
 
 " You see for yourself," began Cristofo, " that our 
 two neighbors are both against us." 
 
 His sister nodded sadly. 
 
 " And one reason's 'cause we live in a place that's 
 so ugly it gives you the eye-ache to look at it." 
 
 " Yes, my brother, I see that too." 
 
 " Well ! " cried the lad, now giving his eagerness
 
 A BROKEN BRANCH 117 
 
 full rein, " what's the matter with makin' the little 
 joint pretty?" 
 
 " Make it pretty ; how can we ? " said Annunciata 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " Just this-a-way," Cristofo continued. " The 
 house is a dump, but the dirt all round it is as rich 
 as can be. We could plant vines near the " 
 
 " Oh, I see," agreed the other, clasping her hands 
 in delight, " and flowers in front." 
 
 " And onions and cabbages in the back," suggested 
 practical Cris. 
 
 " How the children will love it ! and how they will 
 work ! " rippled the big sister. 
 
 " I'll patch up the fences, and plant things there 
 too," Cristofo hurried on. " We'll plant the whole 
 house over with vines." 
 
 All at once Annunciata's radiance sobered. " You 
 say plant, but the seeds, Cris, the seeds, even the 
 very small ones, cost money." 
 
 At this point the listener in the tree lost all sense 
 of prudence. " 'Nunciata, Cris," she called down, 
 " I know where you can get some, some scarlet 
 runners, and big Japanese morning-glories, and " 
 
 "Great Scott, what's that?" cried the boy, 
 startled, and looking up. 
 
 "It's me, it's Phil 'Merrill," said the voice. 
 " And I just got to tell you " 
 
 Alas for the brittleness of ancient tree limbs. 
 The one on which Phil now vibrated gave a loud, 
 threatening crack. The girl screamed, slipped partly 
 down, and hung in the air.
 
 118 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " It is Pheelomel, our friend, our one friend 
 from next door ! " exclaimed Annunciata. " Oh, 
 Cristofo, go catch her quick." 
 
 "Hold tight there," the boy cried to Phil. 
 " Don't let go until I'm standing right under you." 
 
 Another great crack came from the now falling 
 limb. 
 
 " Drop, drop " ordered Cris, his arms straining 
 upward. 
 
 Phil dropped, and he caught her. " Here, here, 
 little lady," the Italian laughed, as he felt her strug- 
 gling to get on her feet, " you keep still. You don't 
 want to bog up to your knees in black mud, do you ? 
 Hold tight to me till I carry you over to dry land."
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 SAINT CKISTOFO'S FERRY 
 
 ANNUNCIATA, breathless and glowing, stood 
 at the edge of the seep, watching the approach 
 of the boy and her friend. 
 
 " Oh," she said to herself, speaking the words in 
 a low, thrilling voice, " it is truly Saint Cristofo 
 crossing the ferry." 
 
 Phil was set down gently. Her promise to the 
 stepmother was broken. But after all, was it not 
 the old apple tree, and not herself, Phil Merrill, 
 who had broken it? She turned solemn eyes to the 
 tree. The limb, now relieved of her weight, had 
 ceased falling, and was still thrust out into the air, 
 all of its flower-tipped twigs shivering. 
 
 She gazed first at her' rescuer, and then at Annun- 
 ciata. " Who is Saint Cristofo ? " she demanded. 
 
 As the three made their way together through the 
 tall bushes, Annunciata kept a tight hold upon Phil's 
 hand. In her soft voice, the Italian girl recounted 
 the legend of Saint Cristofo, and through her words, 
 the two listeners could almost see the sleeping ferry- 
 man, the touch of the small boy on his shoulder, and 
 then the wading of the dark, angry stream, while the 
 Christ-child, for it was none other, grew heavier and
 
 120 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 heavier, just to test the strength and faith of the 
 good Cristofo who bore him. 
 
 " It is a lovely story," said Phil warmly, as the 
 tale ended. " Better even than 'Lijah and Miss 
 Eosa, that talked. And now will you take me to 
 see the cave Tonio is digging ? " 
 
 Without a single qualm of guilty conscience, or 
 so much as a backward look toward her home, Phil 
 followed Annunciata and Cris along a winding path- 
 way through bushes, until she came to the foot of the 
 clay hill. 
 
 Tonio, with Jo and Lucia beside him, were fling- 
 ing the red earth backward like so many beavers. 
 Already there was quite an excavation. " Oh, let 
 me dig ! " begged Phil. " Where is a spade or a 
 trowel ? " 
 
 " Aw, take yer two hands, like what we are 
 doin'," cried Tonio rudely. " That's what hands is 
 made f er, to dig. Look fer yourn ; that's right, 
 look!" he derided, "you'll find 'em hung to de ends 
 of your arms ! " 
 
 Annunciata, after a few words of reproof to her 
 outspoken brother, declared she must go back to the 
 house. " I hear Madre starting the polenta, and I 
 must begin setting the table," she explained. 
 
 " Is it a big festa? " asked Phil. 
 
 " No, just grub, jest plain grub dis time," cried 
 the irrepressible Tonio, making loud smacking noises 
 with his mouth. " You kin come in an' have some 
 of it if you want to, can't she, sister ? " 
 
 " Of course she can," smiled Annunciata. " But
 
 SAINT CRISTOFO'S FERRY 121 
 
 this is a very small festa, only some sausage and gar- 
 lic, with dandelion salad, and polenta. When it's 
 ready you must please come and eat with us, Pheelo- 
 mel." 
 
 Phil shook her head, mumhling something about 
 having to go home in a minute. 
 
 Cris looked around, " What's that name you said," 
 he asked with evident interest. " What did you call 
 the little lady ? " 
 
 " Pheelomel," answered Annunciata, her musical 
 tones making the word as sweet as spoken honey. 
 
 " It's a fine name, all right," said the boy in 
 pleased satisfaction. " It's Greek, and it means 
 1 nighteengale.' ' 
 
 " Why, how did you know, Cris ? " exclaimed Phil. 
 Cousin Betty had told her the meaning, but she won- 
 dered greatly how a " beggar " had found it out. 
 
 " Aw, Cris knows everything, he does," Tonio 
 flung in between the two big scoops of red clay. 
 
 " Not everything," laughed Cris. " But a Greek 
 boy works next to me in the shop at night, and he's 
 always a-singin' a song ' about nighteengales/ 
 'Twas wrote by a chap back in his home, named Theo- 
 critus. Here, you girls, stop a minute," he cried, 
 with an abrupt change of manner. " All right, An- 
 nunciata, if you got to go in, but leave Miss Philo- 
 mel to stay here. I want to get my fingers onto her 
 head in this clay." 
 
 Phil's hands flew up to protect the threatened 
 member. " You sha'n't put my head in the dirt/' 
 she protested.
 
 122 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Cris had fallen to his knees, and the long nervous 
 fingers had begun to round out an oblong of the 
 damp clay. 
 
 " Not your real head, Miss Phil," he exclaimed. 
 " Just the shape of it while you are standin' there. 
 Look up at the bank," he commanded. " No, higher, 
 lift your chin. Play you hear a namesake of yourn 
 singin' up there on the top." 
 
 " But I don't ; there's nothing but a tree-frog," re- 
 joined Phil. 
 
 "Aw, tilt yer head, like Cris tells yer," put in 
 Tonio. " If they was a real bird on de bank, you 
 wouldn't need to make b'leeve." 
 
 Phil, thus constrained, held her head erect. She 
 was dying to see what the now breathlessly silent 
 Cristofo was making, but with Tonio in charge, she 
 did not dare so much as to let her lids fall. 
 
 " What are you digging a cave for, Tonio ? " she 
 questioned, determined to wrest some sort of enter- 
 tainment from her plight. 
 
 " Wot you reckon ? To put robbers an' pirates an* 
 bears in, of course. Even a girl might have knowed 
 that much." 
 
 " Tonio ! " Cristofo's voice rang sharply. 
 "You've got to try to talk more like a gentleman. 
 That wasn't no way to answer a decent question. 
 The youngsters started in diggin' that hole, Miss 
 Philomel," he went on to explain, " just to work off 
 some of that energy that's eatin' them. I don't 
 think much of this special diggin' stunt myself. 
 That bank ain't as deep as it might be, and the log
 
 SAINT CRISTOFO'S FERRY 123 
 
 dam up on top of it is piled so loose that a child 
 might work it away. Then the whole bloomin' pond 
 would come down on to us. There ! " he cried, 
 springing to his feet, and gazing proudly down upon 
 his handiwork. " I finished it. You can look, 
 It's you." 
 
 Phil sank to her knees beside the rough image. 
 In her eyes it seemed not only beautiful, but some- 
 thing utterly miraculous. 
 
 " Is my nose really as straight as that, Cris ? " she 
 asked, in an awe-stricken whisper. 
 
 " Sure it is, and your chin is pretty too. Your 
 neck's kinder thin for a statue, but I've fattened it 
 up some." 
 
 " Oh, I want it for mine. I want to carry it 
 home," the child pleaded, reaching out eager hands. 
 At her touch the wet clay fell to pieces. " I've 
 ruined it, it's broken ! " wailed Phil. 
 
 " That don't make no diff'rence," comforted Cris, 
 as he kicked the shapeless lump to one side. " I can 
 shape a-plenty more just as good." 
 
 " Will you make me one of Laddie ? " urged Phil. 
 " Laddie's my dog, and he's beautiful, and my step- 
 mother won't let me keep him, because he bit Edgar. 
 Didn't you notice one of Edgar's hands was all tied 
 up in white ? " 
 
 " Sure I'll make one of Laddie ; I'd like to," an- 
 swered Cris, avoiding the topic of Edgar. " ISTow 
 let's all go back to the house and see where to plant 
 vines. Who'd you say might give us a few seeds ? " 
 
 " Ma Comfort," said Phil. " She's got them al-
 
 124 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 ready growing. I just know she'll have some left. 
 Anyway, I'm going right down to the beach to ask 
 her, and I don't care if my stepmother does scold." 
 
 "Who's the lady you call Ma Comfort?" ques- 
 tioned Cris. " Is that funny name her real one ? " 
 
 " No, her name is Mrs. Giddings, but I call her 
 Ma Comfort because I love her. She and Uncle 
 John are keeping Laddie for me so's he won't never 
 be shot. They are the dearest " 
 
 Here the speaker's torrent of words came to a 
 pause. Her eyes, blue-black with excitement, stared 
 out to the road. " Why, there she is now ! That's 
 Ma Comfort ! " she cried in an ecstasy. " That fat 
 lady in blue, trying to squeeze in through your gate. 
 She's toting a basket. Oh, Ma Comfort ! " she 
 screamed, rushing around to the front of the house. 
 
 At this uproar, Mrs. Bertollotti hurried out to the 
 verandah, thinking the cottage must be on fire. 
 When she saw the cause of Phil's excitement, her 
 brown face relaxed, and the gleam of white Italian 
 teeth flashed a welcome to the entering visitor. 
 
 Mrs. Giddings had put on her second best dress. 
 It was of blue woolen cloth, rather strained as to 
 seams and to buttonholes. From her shoulders de- 
 pended a " mantua " or cape of black, edged with 
 fringe and a thin line of beads. She wore a black 
 bonnet, also beaded, and made striking by a vivid 
 green parrot, whose beak, poised directly in front, 
 gave the bird an inquisitive air. Whenever Ma 
 spoke it seemed to be listening. 
 
 Before Phil could arrive, Mrs. Bertollotti was
 
 SAINT CRISTOFO'S FERRY 125 
 
 shaking Ma's hand, the one that did not hold her 
 basket, and had begun pouring out volleys of jubi- 
 lant Italian. 
 
 Mrs. Giddings looked startled. She had not 
 counted on a welcome in a foreign language, but her 
 kind heart prevented her from showing consterna- 
 tion. Stepping valiantly up to the boards she said 
 pleasantly, " Good day. I'm glad, ma'm, to make 
 your acquaintance. I was jest passin' your way, 
 Mis' Ber ber kollokky, and I thought I'd 
 stop in and say welcome to you and yourn to our 
 neighborhood." 
 
 " Si si, Madame," cried the Italian, and ran in- 
 doors to drag forth her one rocking chair, kept al- 
 ways in the " parlor," and adorned with a brilliant 
 wool tidy. " I understanna de Eenglis, yes, well, 
 
 but not spika, Madonna mm, but not spika,, 
 Annunciata, she spika, an' Cristofo, my boy, I bring, 
 
 I call dem." 
 
 Gesticulating more wildly than usual, she darted 
 indoors, crying out in her native tongue, " Annun- 
 ciata Cristofo ! run quickly. A huge, kindly lady 
 has come to visit us. Mother of God! Are you 
 turned into snails that you make haste so slowly." 
 
 Ma sank back in the rocker. Fumbling at a little 
 black cloth bag that hung near the place where her 
 waist line should be, she drew out a handkerchief, 
 and began drying her broad, pink countenance. 
 
 The basket had been heavy. With a groan of re- 
 lief, she set it down to the floor. From beneath the 
 cover stole savory suggestions of sugar and butter
 
 126 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 and spice. She was glad to be resting, but her glad- 
 ness was brief, for in an instant she felt two arms 
 flung about her neck, and heard Phil's eager voice 
 crying out, " Oh, Ma Comfort, I'm so perfectly 
 thankful you've come! We want you to give us 
 bushels and bushels of flower seeds. Have you got 
 any in that big basket ? "
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 SEED TIME 
 
 MES. GIDDHSTGS had no time to reply. 
 Cristofo, Annunciata, and little Hugo 
 stood in the door of the cottage. Phil, feeling their 
 presence rather than hearing it, for all three had 
 moved softly forward, unclasped her hold on the 
 visitor, and sprang upright eager to begin introduc- 
 tions. 
 
 " This is 'Nunciata, Ma Comfort," she announced, 
 dragging the shy, smiling girl toward Mrs. Gid- 
 dings ; " and that tall boy behind her is Cristofo, the 
 Christ-bearer. There's a lot more children out in 
 the back yard digging a cave, and this fat one is 
 Hugo, and and oh, 'Nunciata," she checked her- 
 self long enough to inquire, " where is precious Eosa 
 Maria?" 
 
 Annunciata laid a finger of warning against the 
 red flower of her mouth. " Sh-sh-sh," she said in a 
 whisper intended only for Phil's ears, " Eosa Maria 
 was not clean. The Madre puts now a nice fresh 
 frock over the dirty one." 
 
 Ma's fascinated gaze had fixed itself upon Hugo. 
 She liked him at once. He owned, for one thing, a 
 name a Christian woman could pronounce. " Come
 
 128 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 here, Ho-goo," she coaxed, holding a pink hand to- 
 ward him. 
 
 Hugo, in response to this invitation, entangled 
 himself in Annunciata's black skirt and from its folds 
 peeped out at the siren with a single velvety eye. 
 
 Mrs. Giddings, pretending to ignore him, leaned to 
 her basket, and carelessly threw back a corner of the 
 white napkin. Odors of Araby streamed forth ! 
 
 A gurgle of ecstasy came from Hugo. Leaving 
 his sister's sheltering skirt, he toddled straight to the 
 basket, fell upon his knees and pointed. Ma gave 
 him a cookie, a thick one. It vanished with mirac- 
 ulous swiftness, and Hugo again extended a brown 
 and very grimy palm. The second cake was de- 
 voured even more quickly. 
 
 Ma's face was a round moon of rising approval. 
 " Mercy me ! " she sighed enviously. " If I could 
 only have Hew-roo fer mine. Jest to think what 
 good things I could feed him ! " 
 
 The three intermediate children now appeared on 
 the verandah ; Tonio aggressive, bold-eyed, and grin- 
 ning, the other two, Jo and Lucia, clinging together 
 hand in hand, well in the background. 
 
 Phil presented all three, taking special pains, an 
 effort entirely futile, to make Ma say " I^u-chee- 
 ya " instead of " Loosher " as most Americans called 
 it. 
 
 The green parrot shook in protest at Phil's stric- 
 tures. " Hew-roo " was the one name that Ma felt 
 she ever would know. 
 
 Now Mrs. Bertollotti, bearing the small whited sep-
 
 SEED TIME 129 
 
 ulchre, Rosa Maria, joined the group. Phil imme- 
 diately reached up for the baby, assuming the priv- 
 ilege of showing her off. She was very careful, how- 
 ever, to keep one restraining hand on the top skirt, 
 dragging it rigidly downward, that things better un- 
 seen should stay hidden. 
 
 Under the influence of Phil's duckings and tick- 
 lings, the infant obligingly laughed, disclosing not 
 only the four perfect front teeth, but a cruel-look- 
 ing ring of adjacent ones, in the act of being cut. 
 
 " The poor, blessed Lammits ! " exclaimed Ma at 
 this piteous sight. " Could I give her a nibble of a 
 cookie, Miss Nuncy-yawter, do you think ? " 
 
 "Why, of course," answered the sister, much 
 astonished. "Rosa Maria eats everything, same as 
 we do. She's a big girl now, more than a year old." 
 
 Tonio, Jo, and Lucia were being steadily drawn, as 
 by a magnet, toward the warm, perfumed basket still 
 on the floor. Each little brown nose was uncon- 
 sciously " sniffing," like so many rabbits when a leaf 
 of green cabbage appears. 
 
 Ma Comfort smiled broadly, and got. to her feet. 
 " I must have more room than is out here for 
 emptyin' this food," she exclaimed. " Could I jest 
 step inside now, and find a table ? " 
 
 " Please, please ! " cried Annunciata. " Come 
 right in this door ; it's our parlor." 
 
 Mrs. Giddings billowed in, followed closely by all 
 of the small Italians, who watched the basket being 
 placed on the bare boards. Two little benches, with- 
 out backs, ran one at each side of the table and, in the
 
 130 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 intervals of meals, were pushed out of sight under- 
 neath. 
 
 There was a much-damaged safe in one corner, 
 with two of the green wire doors missing. Mrs. 
 Giddings' quick eye had taken in everything, even to 
 the three-legged stool, and the several cloth bundles 
 left about on the floor. 
 
 In all of the bare room there was no hint of bright- 
 ness, nor of beauty, save the white, smiling figure on 
 the mantel, and the spray of blue Virginia cowslips 
 standing near it. Phil, noting Ma's covert survey, 
 tiptoed up for a whisper. " That's the Mother of 
 God," she explained. " She got broke, and I helped 
 'Nunciata tie her up with the tatting off my petti- 
 coat. The children say prayers to her all the time. 
 Isn't it funny ? " 
 
 Ma gave a dry smile, but refused any outspoken 
 comment. 
 
 At last the covering napkin was taken quite off. 
 " Gather in here, you chicks," commanded the vis- 
 itor, as she thrust a hand deep into cookies. " I am 
 sorry to be so much trouble," she said, her eyes on 
 Mrs. Bertollotti, " but I would like a dish, platter, 
 or some kind of pan for these things." 
 
 The Madre, understanding at once, shot toward 
 the old broken safe, and returned with a tin pie 
 plate. 
 
 " These is jest outer my ovin'," declared Ma, not 
 without pride, as she dumped the cakes down in 
 handfuls. " I opined, from what Miss Phil told me, 
 that I couldn't scarcely cook too many of them, and
 
 SEED TIME 131 
 
 I ain't. Now now, there, you Hew-bo ! " she 
 cried at the sight of a brown fist approaching. " You 
 done gobbled two fat ones a'ready. You must wait 
 till the girls git theirs. That's the way for a gen'- 
 mun to act." 
 
 Hugo, nothing abashed, raised his eyes of brown 
 velvet. A smile crept into them, honey-sweet. The 
 sticky small palm was turned upward. 
 
 " You rascal \ " whispered Mrs. Giddings nearly 
 weeping with rapture. " Take that, and be off." 
 
 Under the cookies appeared a second snowy cloth. 
 Ma lifted this slowly, and, in doing so, looked once 
 more toward the Madre. " You see, Mis' Bekky- 
 locky," she explained, as if just a trifle embarrassed, 
 " Pa's seafarin' friends is everlastin^y bringin' us 
 things, so that I've got stuff piled on me till I don't 
 know where to put it. That's why I thought I'd 
 jest fetch along this here caddy o' tea, some lump 
 sugar, and some tins o' sardines which John, bein' 
 a fresh-water fisherman, despises. I has added a few 
 of the aigs laid this mornin' by my old yaller hens, 
 and hope you'll kindly accept them in the spirit they 
 is gave." 
 
 " It is a festa, a real, true festa! " carolled An- 
 nunciata, like the child that she was. 
 
 Mrs. Bertollotti, after a terrific explosion of words, 
 to which the names of many saints added a strange 
 music, threatened to break into tears. This excess 
 of gratitude, while it delighted Ma, nevertheless 
 made her extremely uncomfortable. 
 
 " There there," she soothed briskly. " It ain't
 
 132 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 nothin' at all, really. I was glad to be rid of the 
 stuff. You children," she cried, turning to the 
 munching circle. " I want you to find your way to 
 my house this same afternoon. Phil can show you. 
 My husband, John Giddin's," she explained, now 
 speaking to Annunciata and the tall Cristofo, " keeps 
 a fish and clam and oyster deppo down to the bay. 
 Sometimes Pa's haul of fishes is so heavy that we 
 can't sell the half of them, and has to use the rest 
 for fertilizer in my little gyardin patch acrost the 
 road." 
 
 The tea-cakes were suspended, while a low groan 
 issued in unison from the lips of the Bertollotti fam- 
 ily. The horror on their faces, as the meaning of 
 this sinful waste came to them, told plainer than 
 any words their condition of utter poverty. 
 
 Ma Comfort's brown eyes grew tender. 
 
 " Lord, Lord," she said, wiping them on the hand- 
 kerchief from her little black bag, " but ain't it a 
 mussy you happened to take up with this little house 
 in Bible Road? ~Now jest you remember, Mis' 
 Brasserrony, you and those youngsters, if they is 
 anything that me and Pa can do for you and for 
 yours " 
 
 " There is there is, Ma Comfort ! " panted Phil, 
 dragging at the hem of Mrs. Giddings' beaded cape. 
 " It's what I asked about when you first came in 
 Me and 'Nunciata, and Chris, we want something 
 just terrible. Those horrid Hopkins' servants who 
 ran Tonio and Jo away this morning, they said that 
 this house was the disgrace of Bible Eoad. They
 
 SEED TIME 133 
 
 made 'Nunciata cry, they did, and then me and Cris 
 thought if we could plant vines all over the place, 
 and if we just had some seeds " 
 
 Ma could no longer listen in silence. Her excite- 
 ment exploded. 
 
 "Is it seeds you're wantinM Seeds!" she trum- 
 peted in a voice of scorn. " Well, I should say that 
 I did have seed to my house! Here, let me have a 
 look 'round," and marching through the door, Mrs. 
 Giddings' eyes swished about like two brown, slender 
 sickles. 
 
 " Yes," she said, nodding, and then pointing to 
 the ground. " Here at your front piazzer pillars, 
 if you could call them sticks pillars, we can put big 
 Japanese mornin'-glories, and vines of my scarlet 
 runner. We don't need to wait for any sproutin', 
 neether. I'll take up a few of mine already a-growin' 
 by my awnin' posts. I can tell you this thing, my 
 young man," she emphasized, striding up to the de- 
 lighted Cristofo, with one hand lifted as though to 
 smite him. " If it's plants you want, and seeds, 
 flower or gyardin, you've rung the proper do'-bell 
 first time. 
 
 " Why," she continued, taking a deep breath, and 
 then hurrying on as if it were a new and wonder- 
 ful game upon which she had entered, " them shaller 
 little boxes of mine don't take but a pinch of the 
 seeds Pa Giddin's is allays buyin' for me to put 
 in them. I've packs and packs stuck away. They 
 is merrygolds, touch-me-nots, nasturtiums, love-in- 
 a-mist, and grass pinks, the dear knows what-
 
 134 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 all I hasn't. But of the lot, them sweet-smellin' 
 clove pinks is my fswoxryte" volunteered Mrs. Gid- 
 dings. 
 
 " Those tinchy-winchy little f ringy ones ? " inter- 
 rupted Phil, both hands clasped in ecstasy. " They 
 are my favorites too. They smell like peach pre- 
 serves and heaven, and Grandma had just millions 
 of them." 
 
 Ma Comfort gave an appreciative nod, but her 
 eloquence was not so easily checked. " My porch 
 boxes," she rambled on, " is strugglin' and jammed 
 with green things a-tryin' to grow all to onst. They 
 crowds closer," she chuckled, " than you Betty- 
 lokky children here in your cottage, and it'll be a 
 God's blessin' to get them thinned out. By that 
 I ain't meanin'," she hastened to add, " that any of 
 you needs thinnin' out. They can't hardly be too 
 many children when they's good an' well-mannered 
 like you youngsters seems to be." 
 
 Chris, Phil, and Annunciata exchanged glances of 
 pleasure at this warm commendation. 
 
 After her long speech, Mrs. Giddings had fallen 
 into a most unusual silence. She passed a plump 
 hand over her forehead, giving the parrot a more rak- 
 ish tilt, and was evidently deep in thought. Sud- 
 denly, starting up, she said something under her 1 
 breath, turned about, and tramped through the small, 
 bleak abode to the rear. 
 
 All eyes followed wonderingly the broad, black- 
 caped shoulders. In a very few minutes she re- 
 turned, the parrot bobbing satisfaction, while his
 
 SEED TIME 135 
 
 wearer's face wore the gratified look of one who has 
 found what she sought. 
 
 " Jest as I expected," she declaimed. " You've 
 got a-plenty of room at the back for a kitchin 
 gyardin, as well. There's vegtubble seeds to my 
 house, along with the posies. Me and Pa runs a lit- 
 tle mess-patch for ourselves, right acrost Bible Road, 
 in a empty lot what we's rented. We has to do con- 
 sidderbul coaxin' in that sandy soil, but down here 
 in the valley, with dirt rich as this, why, when your 
 growin' things gets good and started, you'll have to 
 keep watch to see that they don't lift the house." 
 
 " Oh oh," sparkled Phil, bounding as though 
 her two feet were made of rubber. " When can we 
 start it, Ma Comfort? I want to begin right 
 away." 
 
 " And you shall," declared Mrs. Giddings, pick- 
 ing up the now empty basket. " I had thought of 
 keepin' on to town for a spell, but my shoppin' can 
 wait. 'Taint nothin' of any importance noways. 
 This day was made by the Good Father for plantin', 
 so I wants to know who'll come back with me for the 
 vines and the flower seeds ? " 
 
 " Me. Lemme go, Annunciata ! No, me," clam- 
 ored all of the small Bertollottis. Even the wee, 
 brown mouse, Rosa Maria, squeaked with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 Hugo strode to the front. "I'm goin'," he an- 
 nounced sturdily. " Lady got cakes." 
 
 "Here, you kids!" Cristofo laughed. "The 
 whole bunch can't go, or folks'll think Mis' Giddin's
 
 136 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 is leadin' the lot down to drown them like kittens. 
 Tonio and Giovanni is a-plenty for onst." 
 
 " Yes, only those two/"' agreed Annunciata, then 
 lifting her dark eyes to Ma, she said gently, " Please, 
 kind Mrs. Comfort, wait a minute till they can wash 
 off their hands and faces." The request was fol- 
 lowed by low-toned directions given in Italian to the 
 boys upon whom honor had fallen. 
 
 " Aw ! Cut out de water an' de soap ! " grumbled 
 Tonio, who preferred most things to washing, but 
 at the moment encountering a stern glance from 
 Cris, he revolved on his heel, and with Giovanni, 
 sought cleanliness at the trickling faucet. 
 
 They returned, water dripping in rills from each 
 tumbled forelock, whereupon Annunciata, reaching 
 out a slim hand, gave to the black heads that sort 
 of brushing called by Phil's Mammy Jane " a lick 
 and a promise," and proudly announced that they 
 were ready. 
 
 "Ain't they forgettin' their hats?" Ma sug- 
 gested. 
 
 Annunciata and Cris both laughed. " They ain't 
 never felt the touch of a hat sence bein' born, Mis' 
 Giddin's," said Cris. " Don't you think that hair is 
 enough to cover them ? " 
 
 " 'Cose, 'cose," assented Ma hastily. " It makes 
 most American children look peeled-like. Well, 
 boys, is you prepared to start ? " 
 
 "Brace up, and offer to take the kind lady's bas- 
 ket," ordered Cris in a low voice to Tonio. " Won't 
 you never learn manners at all ? "
 
 SEED TIME 137 
 
 " There, that's Ma's nice little man," Mrs. Gid- 
 dings exclaimed approvingly, as Tonio obeyed his 
 brother. Now she looked around. " Ain't you 
 a-comin' too, little gran'darter ? " she smiled, catch- 
 ing sight of Phil in the doorway. 
 
 Philomel shook her head. Again she felt herself 
 an outcast. Why couldn't she too walk boldly and 
 quite unafraid in the sunshine with the two boys and 
 Ma ? It was her own Ma Comfort, not theirs. The 
 thought of the promise so deliberately broken, of her 
 disobedience to her stepmother, now came over her 
 like a cloud. 
 
 "I I can't come, Ma," she stammered un- 
 happily. " I got to get back to my house." 
 
 Mrs. Giddings gave her a long searching gaze. 
 " That's right," she said gravely. " You hadn't 
 oughter go nowheres without askin' your Ma's per- 
 mission. That's what bein' good means. Well, so 
 long, Mis' Bellytori, I had a reel nice visit with 
 
 you." 
 
 Pursued by the waving of hands and phrases of 
 gratitude, some in American and some in Italian, 
 Ma Comfort, flanked by her two ragged attendants, 
 stepped proudly out into the road. 
 
 Phil, now withdrawn even further from the happy 
 confusion, knew that she could never be truly a part 
 of it. Unseen by the Bertollottis, she slipped back 
 into the cottage, went through the kitchen, and out 
 in the bare trampled spot at the rear. 
 
 This time there was no Saint Cristofo to carry her 
 over the stream. Phil skirted the edge of it, and
 
 138 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 farther along, found a stone, from which she could 
 spring to the broken wall. 
 
 It was a chastened and saddened Philomel who 
 now, in the orchard, searched for the long-forgotten 
 " Swiss Family Kobinson," and then, with the book 
 tucked under her arm, climbed slowly through grass 
 beginning to whiten with daisies, to her stepmother's 
 shabby old home.
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 PHIL'S FIEST SUNDAY IN KINGTON 
 
 AS Phil emerged from the orchard and gained 
 a full sight of her home, the first person she 
 saw was her stepbrother, leaning from a second- 
 storey window as if on watch for her, and brandish- 
 ing what appeared to be a white flag of truce. On 
 nearer view, this proved to be merely a sheet of blank 
 paper. 
 
 Catching Phil's eye, the boy sang out instantly: 
 
 "Old Phil Merrill, she's no good! 
 Chop her up fer fire-wood, 
 If the fire-wood won't burn 
 Old Phil Merrill, she's a worm." 
 
 The insulted one stopped short. Irritation, such 
 as she never felt when at Ma Comfort's or with the 
 lovable Italians, was here actually rushing out to 
 meet her. 
 
 She scowled and clenched her fists. After a brief 
 but victorious struggle with the muse of poetry, Phil 
 rejoined shrilly: 
 
 " Edgar Merrill, he's a sneak, 
 Chunk him in the drowning-creek 
 If he sinks and cannot swim, 
 I don't care an old bent pin." 
 
 " Aw ! " grimaced Edgar, much impressed by this
 
 140 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 brilliant and original retort. " I ain't a sneak, 
 neither. You stop now " Then he suddenly van- 
 ished, as if jerked from within by the legs. 
 
 Phil, with deepening reluctance, made her slow 
 way to the house. What on earth was she to say or 
 to do, if her stepmother asked the plain question: 
 " Have you disobeyed me already, and been playing 
 with those beggars next door ? " 
 
 She did not enjoy telling lies. They did not come 
 easily, and Cousin Betty had once made her see 
 that a lie was a good deal like a splinter in one's 
 thumb, apt to go deep, to hurt worse and begin to 
 fester, before it could be taken out. Phil wondered 
 uneasily whether that first lie of hers, the one spoken 
 yesterday, had not already begun to fester. There 
 was certainly a sore, uncomfortable sensation in her 
 heart, the place where such poison would work. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill was in her small sewing room, mark- 
 ing towels. On the floor near her, Edgar, with the 
 same sheet of paper spread out and a pencil, wrote 
 with his unbandaged right hand, making queer 
 lines of childish block letters. 
 
 As his stepsister entered, the boy looked up quickly, 
 and made a most frightful face. Phil promptly did 
 likewise. 
 
 " Children ! chil-dren ! " protested the mother. 
 <l Can't you even see each other without wanting to 
 spat? It is very discouraging. Philomel," she 
 went on, looking straight into the girl's eyes, " you've 
 been absent for nearly two hours. Were you in the 
 orchard all of that time ? "
 
 PHIL'S FIRST SUNDAY 141 
 
 " Yes'm, yes, Mother," answered Phil breath- 
 lessly, and then, before a second query could possibly 
 follow, she threw herself to the floor. 
 
 " What are you trying to do, Edgar ? " she cried 
 with suspicious eagerness. " Oh, I see, you're 
 printing out poetry. I can write it just fine. Let 
 me show you ! " 
 
 " No, you don't," snapped Edgar, grabbing at the 
 pencil she had snatched from his hand. " I'm doin' 
 this all by myself ; I don't b'lieve you know anythin' 
 about po'try." 
 
 " But I do" the other insisted. " Once I wrote 
 a whole long one about a jay-bird that was beautiful. 
 Cousin Betty copied it off. It went : 
 
 " ' Pretty jay-bird in the tree, 
 
 I know you're chirping right at me.' " 
 
 Edgar showed symptoms of wavering. In the 
 brief silence, Mrs. Merrill, who had been watching 
 Phil keenly, opened her tightly drawn lips, but be- 
 fore she could utter the words pinched between them, 
 Edgar, in a new burst of doubt, exclaimed, " I knew 
 you didn't know anythin'. My po'try ain't about 
 birds; they are silly. Mine's all about injines." 
 
 " Oh, I know injines too," declared Phil almost 
 tearfully, ducking her face out of sight of the step- 
 mother. " Listen to this, Edgar; it's lovely: 
 
 " ' Noble red-man of the wood, 
 
 They say you're bad, but I know you're good.' " 
 
 she recited dramatically.
 
 142 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Edgar gaped widely, his eyes and his mouth both 
 open. "Injines don't run in the woods! " he cried 
 scornfully. " They go on tracks, and say, Choo 
 choo, chuff chuff, and then they toot ! " 
 
 " Oh, those kind of engines, you mean," laughed 
 Phil, quite hysterically. " You certainly are smart 
 to write poetry about them. And you are drawing 
 a locomotive to go with it ! Oh, Edgar, it's lovely ! 
 Let Phil see. ' The injine is puffin' smoke,' " she 
 read, as if dazzled by wonder. " Now you want 
 something to rhyme with that ' smoke.' There are 
 plenty of words, ' choke/ ' broke,' and f joke/ I 
 never dreamed you could do things as pretty as 
 these." 
 
 The boy, quite overcome by this torrent of flat- 
 tery, began to laugh excitedly. Mrs. Merrill too 
 was apparently vanquished. She drew a short sigh, 
 untightened her lips, and caught up a yet unmarked 
 towel. Phil knew that for the moment she was 
 safe. 
 
 During the rest of the day, she remained content- 
 edly indoors, playing so nicely with Edgar, that she 
 earned more than one smile of approval from her 
 stepmother. 
 
 After the light supper of sliced ham, biscuit, and 
 apple sauce, with the invariable " cambric " tea, 
 Mrs. Merrill said to her stepdaughter, " You must 
 have a good bath to-night, Philomel, and lay out 
 your best clothes for to-morrow. It will be the Sat- 
 bath, and you and Edgar are to go to church with 
 me."
 
 PHIL'S FIRST SUNDAY 143 
 
 " Goody ! " cried Phil, thinking of the long drive 
 and the quiet little Episcopal chapel, nine miles 
 from Grandma's house. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill saw and interpreted the look, but did 
 not think it worth while to explain just then that it 
 was a Presbyterian church to which they were going. 
 
 Phil's first waking thought next morning was, 
 " This is Sunday. I'm going to church with Cousin 
 Betty ! " Then her face sobered. !N"o, it could not 
 be Cousin Betty this time. The lonely, lost feeling 
 came over her again, and it was not until she remem- 
 bered the new friends in the crazy-quilt cottage, that 
 her spirits revived. 
 
 " Will all of the Bertollottis be going to church ? " 
 she wondered. " Of course, they can't work in their 
 garden any, because it's Sunday, and it's a shame 
 too," she murmured, feeling herself rather wicked 
 to say it, " when Ma Comfort's given them all those 
 seeds, and it's the only day Cris has at home." 
 
 But Phil had yet a good many things to learn 
 about the Bertollottis. 
 
 She dressed and hurried downstairs to a break- 
 fast that seemed stiffer and more silent than usual. 
 Mrs. Merrill wore her best black silk gown, and 
 over it a big housekeeper's apron. Rebecca was also 
 in black. Her hard face was harder than ever, with 
 the tense, cross expression that doubtless was her 
 special way of showing regard for the holy day. 
 
 There was no conversation. In fact no one spoke 
 until Edgar, slipping down into his chair, an- 
 nounced that he did not intend to eat his " old
 
 144 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 cereal." Immediately the two women bent over 
 him, coaxing and bribing him to a few swallows. 
 
 Phil had a swift vision of Hugo, his eager brown 
 hand held out for a third cookie. She sat quietly 
 regarding Edgar, and almost hated her stepbrother 
 when his face grew so snarling, and his voice so 
 whining and weak. He had tumbled his hair in his 
 wrigglings, until the thin straying locks had the look 
 of pale earthworms trying to crawl down into his 
 eyes. 
 
 Phil had never been taught to conceal her emo- 
 tions, and her small, scornful countenance must have 
 showed only too clearly what she was thinking, for 
 Mrs. Merrill, catching sight of it, said sharply, " If 
 you have finished your breakfast, you can go to your 
 room, Philomel. Make up your bed, and see that 
 the whole place is tidy; then you can sit there and 
 read until I call you for church. There can be no 
 playing or romping in this house on the Sabbath." 
 
 " All right, I'll go up," replied Phil, and gladly 
 enough made her exit. 
 
 The entire Merrill family, including the rigid 
 Rebecca, were driven to church by a village hackman 
 called " Grudge." Phil, on first beholding Mr. 
 Grudge, thought the name strangely appropriate. 
 " Why was it," she asked herself, " that everybody 
 except the Italians felt it necessary to look so awful 
 cross on Sunday ? " 
 
 The church proved to be a plain white building 
 that to Phil's eyes looked rather like a barn. 
 
 A very old gentleman in everyday clothes stepped
 
 PHIL'S FIRST SUNDAY 145 
 
 up to the reading-desk and began, " O Lord, we have 
 met here to-day." The people all bent their heads, 
 but not a single one opened a prayer book. 
 
 A long hymn was sung, and then the small 'Pisc- 
 erpalean waited impatiently for services to begin. 
 But what followed was an interminable prayer, with 
 the congregation standing up on their feet. Some- 
 thing was dreadfully wrong with the whole per- 
 formance, because when the next hymn was sung, 
 every one remained seated. The child could not 
 have been more bewildered had she been stood up in 
 the corner of the pew on her head. 
 
 Once Phil ventured a small glance around, and to 
 her joy met fully the kind, shining eyes of Ma 
 Giddings, who smiled broadly, and nodded such 
 encouragement that the rest of the time passed 
 briefly. 
 
 As the congregation filed out, some of the ladies 
 paused to speak to Mrs. Merrill. They looked down 
 at Edgar, and then added a word about good Doctor 
 Merrill's little daughter. Phil somehow got the 
 idea that the ladies were pitying Mrs. Merrill be- 
 cause of the Doctor's little girl. 
 
 Slipping away from her stepmother's friends, 
 Philomel managed to gain a warm handclasp, and a 
 few hurried words with Ma Comfort. 
 
 " Philomel," came the stepmother's voice. See- 
 ing Phil's companion, Mrs. Merrill said somewhat 
 stiffly " Oh, good morning, Mrs. Giddings. I am 
 sure you are very kind to put up with my daughter 
 so much. I appreciate it, and by the way, will you
 
 146 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 please tell your husband I shall want a small flounder 
 for dinner to-morrow ? " 
 
 The remainder of that first Sabbath day was for 
 Phil a long and apparently endless misery. 
 
 She was forbidden to climb trees, or to sing other 
 than hymn tunes, to write poetry, or even to play 
 jacks, in spite of Edgar's whining insistence. 
 
 " Then what can children do in the house on Sun- 
 days ? " Phil demanded. 
 
 " You can read," Mrs. Merrill replied. " Wot 
 fairy tales, of course, or any such nonsense, but 
 have you no Sunday-school books, or pretty Bible 
 stories among those you brought with you ? " 
 
 " Nome no, Mother," answered Phil wearily. 
 "All the books that I like is about fairies and 
 princes and princesses." 
 
 " Very well, then, Edgar has plenty of suitable 
 ones. Suppose," Mrs. Merrill added, " that 
 you read a short Bible story out loud to your 
 brother." 
 
 From sheer boredom Phil was about to accede, 
 when Edgar cried petulantly, " But I don't want her 
 to read to me. She reads like a colored girl. I 
 want you to read, Mommer." 
 
 " I will, dear, but you must try not to be so nerv- 
 ous. Come lie down on this couch beside mother. 
 How would you like the story of ' The Good Shep- 
 herd and the Little Lost Lamb ' ? " 
 
 " All right," said Edgar ungraciously. 
 
 Phil hung about for a few wistful moments, hop- 
 ing that she too might be bidden to listen, but Edgar,
 
 PHIL'S FIRST SUNDAY 147 
 
 perceiving it, called out crossly, " You go way, Phil ! 
 this is my book, and it's my Mommer reading. Send 
 Phil up to her room, Mommer ; I don't like the way 
 she looks at me." 
 
 " Edgar is unusually nervous this afternoon, 
 Philomel," suggested the mother, in a voice that 
 showed some regret for driving the sister off. " I 
 think maybe it would be better if I read to him 
 alone." 
 
 Phil turned and went slowly from the room. Her 
 feet, as they dragged up the stairs, were of lead. 
 With every step, the fuzzy lump in her throat grew 
 larger, and not until the top flight did she move 
 more rapidly. All that she wished now was to reach 
 her small room, to fling herself down on the bed, and 
 cry out her lonely homesickness. 
 
 " Cousin Betty, my dear Cousin Betty," she 
 sobbed, as if that kind distant friend could hear her, 
 " I want you so much. If you were here, you would 
 read me about the Lost Lamb." 
 
 On opening her door, the first thing that met 
 Phil's tear-dimmed vision was the picture that 
 looked so like Annunciata, smiling straight into her 
 eyes. 
 
 Instead of a flight to the bed as she had planned 
 it, Phil wiped her tears on the sleeve of her best Sun- 
 day frock, went up to the dresser, and leaning both 
 elbows on the white cover, began studying the print. 
 In her loneliness, the bright-colored face seemed to 
 be in reality a flake, a small, vivid reflection of the 
 girl she had begun to adore.
 
 148 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Phil whispered low words to it, drawing in solace 
 from the dark, gentle eyes. 
 
 " I don't care if they won't let me listen down- 
 stairs, 'Nunciata," she said. "I know some poetry 
 about a lamb that is beautifuller than anything in 
 Edgar's old book. It's about April too, and this is 
 April. It goes: 
 
 " ' All in the April morning, 
 April airs were abroad; 
 The sheep with their little lambs 
 Pass'd by me on the road. 
 
 ' The sheep with their lambs 
 
 Pass'd me by on the road; 
 All in an April evening 
 
 I thought on the Lamb of God.' 
 
 " Isn't that pretty ? " she asked of the picture. 
 " Can't you just see those little white lambs with 
 their mothers ? " 
 
 The picture seemed to smile, " Yes." 
 
 " The next verse is sadder," Phil warned before 
 repeating it. " But it's lovelier even than those 
 
 others : 
 
 " ' The lambs were weary, and crying 
 
 With a weak human cry, 
 I thought on the Lamb of God 
 Going meekly to die. 
 
 ' Up in the blue, blue mountains 
 
 Dewy pastures are sweet: 
 Rest for the little bodies, 
 Rest for the little feet. 
 
 ' Rest for the Lamb of God, 
 Up on the hill-top green, '
 
 PHIL'S FIRST SUNDAY 149 
 
 "I I don't think I remember any more of 
 it," Phil declared rather chokingly. " It's the sad- 
 dest of all, and I can't say it, because I'm I'm 
 crying. I I can't say another word." 
 
 Sobbing softly, she bent her head over for a mo- 
 ment, and then drawing herself together, Phil stood 
 up, her head lifted, her face radiant. 
 
 " Yes," she said, and in her excitement spoke 
 loudly, " I'll go right downstairs this very minute, 
 and tell my stepmother how wicked I've been. I'll 
 confess all the stories I've told her, and the way I've 
 been disobeying her. It's what the Lamb of God 
 would want me to do, and Ma Comfort too. I'll 
 promise all over " 
 
 At this moment her glance fell upon the picture. 
 It still smiled, but the eyes appeared larger and 
 softer with unshed tears. Phil pressed her hand to 
 her throat. What was she planning to do ? To con- 
 fess, and by so doing to give up once and for all her 
 beautiful friendship? 
 
 After that confession, she never again could so 
 much as speak to her dear Annunciata; never hold 
 warm, cooing Rosa Maria in her arms; never plant 
 seeds with Tony, Jo, and Lucia, or dig in their 
 muddy, red cave. She must give them all up and 
 forever. 
 
 " I can't lose them all ; Oh, dear Lamb of God, 
 please don't ask me. They're my neighbors, and 
 you know your Father said I must love them. 
 Don't make me give them up when I've only just 
 found them."
 
 150 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 She shut her eyes tightly. Her hands clenched 
 with the heat of her passion, and all the pale little 
 face quivered. " I don't b'leeve he wants me to do 
 it," she said firmly, " and I don't think I can, and 
 I won't."
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 A. " BLUE MONDAY " SEEMON 
 
 PHILOMEL had been glad enough to creep early 
 to bed at the end of that long, dreary Sabbath ; 
 but once under the covers, she found sleep no easy 
 boon to secure. 
 
 She tossed from one side to another, pounding and 
 doubling her pillow in search of a cool spot for her 
 cheek, but even when one was found, and her hot 
 face pressed deep against it, sleep refused to come. 
 
 Though Phil did not yet realize the cause of her 
 trouble, it was conscience that kept her awake. Here 
 and now, she was facing her first sharp battle be- 
 tween right instincts and wrong ones. 
 
 Inside of the restless young head, two Philomels 
 argued and protested. One whispered of the peace 
 of repentence and confession, the other, and more 
 subtle, said, " Shucks, Phil, don't you know she isn't 
 your own mother ? She's only a * step,' and you 
 wouldn't be here at all, if Grandma hadn't died. 
 What fun can you have playing with a spoiled, whin- 
 ing boy like Edgar? The Bertollotti children are 
 just crazy about you, and you about them. Don't 
 think for one minute of giving them up." 
 
 Phil woke early, strangled and fighting her pillow. 
 Her ears were full of strange sounds. A rain had 
 come up in the night, and the tin gutter outside, near
 
 152 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 her window, clicked and gurgled with the rushing 
 water. From across the hall came Kebecca's reso- 
 nant snores. 
 
 The next thing she heard was a knock on her 
 door, and Rebecca saying crossly, " Git outer your 
 bed in there, you Phil'mel. It's after seven, and 
 this is Blue Monday." 
 
 By the time breakfast was over, the rain had 
 ceased, but the clouds remained low and threatening, 
 and the whole earth was swathed in a gray mist. 
 
 Phil went back upstairs to make her bed, and to 
 put the small room into its accustomed bare or- 
 der, and then, after digging down into her trunk for 
 a remembered pair of overshoes, she slipped them on, 
 and went in search of her stepmother. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose you can go," said Mrs. Merrill, in 
 response to her daughter's request. " I'm sure I 
 don't know what Mrs. Gidings can want with you on 
 a day like this." 
 
 Phil's eager explanation beginning, " But Ma 
 Comfort always wants me," was cut short by a wave 
 of the hand, and an impatient, " Never mind, I said 
 you could go for a while. Of course, personally, I 
 would be pleased if you wanted to stay at home and 
 help amuse Edgar. He is so fretful on an over- 
 cast day, but I suppose it is too much to expect." 
 
 " And it certainly is" thought the sister to herself. 
 
 " Be sure you are here in good time for luncheon," 
 were Mrs. Merrill's next words, and then as an after- 
 thought she added, " You had better take this old 
 umbrella along. It was your father's."
 
 A "BLUE MONDAY" SERMON 153 
 
 Phil seized the umbrella, and made all possible 
 haste to escape. Edgar ran after her as far as the 
 front door. " You hateful old thing ! " he called 
 peevishly. " I'll get even with you yet, 'cause you 
 won't stay here and play jacks with me; you see if 
 I don't!" 
 
 There was no retort. Phil's one wish was to get 
 out of sight, not only of Edgar's scowling face, 
 but also of the gray, cheerless home in which she 
 lived. 
 
 As she passed under the overhanging orchard 
 branches, she saw that the pink flowers were still 
 drenched, their rain-beaten petals glued together, 
 and that from them fell a steady drip, drip to the 
 road beneath. 
 
 She tried to open the old umbrella, but it stuck. 
 After some effort she managed to raise it part way, 
 and thrusting her head as far as possible upward into 
 its musty folds, walked along, knowing herself safely 
 screened from the temptation of looking in at the 
 Bertollottis. 
 
 As Phil neared the houseboat, the strains of Ma's 
 singing quavered out through the gray, chilling mist. 
 This time it was no song of tender romance, or wail- 
 ing of lovers' despair, but the hymn which, only yes- 
 terday morning in church, had nearly reduced the 
 listener to tears. 
 
 " Oh-ho-ho, Tapp-pee ia the-he-he man who-hoo-hoo hears, 
 
 De-sfrucf-shuns war-har-nin' voice; 
 An' happ-pce he who-hoo-hoo turns to-hoo-hoo God 
 An' may-hay-ftafces uv heav'n his choice."
 
 154 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Under these lugubrious sounds, the faint lessening 
 of gloom that the sight of the houseboat had brought 
 to Phil sank to a deeper abyss. Very soberly, she 
 climbed down the four steps to the front deck, and 
 went in at the open door of the cabin. 
 
 Mrs. Giddings sat in her rocking chair, mending 
 a snag in her blue kitchen apron. Hearing some 
 one coming, she pushed up her steel-rimmed spec- 
 tacles and lifted a rosy, bright face that made a 
 strange contrast to the words and the tune she had 
 just paused in singing. Before Phil could speak, 
 Ma Comfort held out the apron. " Your Laddie 
 done that," she announced, thrusting two fat fingers 
 out from the three-cornered hole. " I never did see 
 such a critter for boundin' and leapin'. I had to beg 
 Pa to take him along, in deliverin' fish and clams." 
 
 11 1 don't care," said Phil in a tone of resigned 
 misery. " I mean I don't care about Laddie's be- 
 ing away, not the hole in your apron. Somehow, 
 this morning I don't seem even to love Laddie." 
 
 "Hoity, toity," exclaimed Ma, instantly sympa- 
 thetic. " That ain't no way for my little grand- 
 darter to talk. What's went wrong to home? Is 
 your Ma and Rebecca peeved because they can't get 
 their wash out this morriin' ? Some good folks is af- 
 flicted that way." 
 
 "Nome, I didn't hear them say anything about 
 washing,'' answered Phil in the same doleful voice. 
 " They're not much crosser than usual. It's not 
 only them, but somehow everything this morning 
 seems so quiet and gray and dismal."
 
 A "BLUE MONDAY" SERMON 155 
 
 " There now ! Jest listen to that," cried Ma dis- 
 approvingly. " What do you suppose the good Lord 
 holds back sunshine for now and then, if it ain't to 
 give humans a chanst to make some of their own ? I 
 loves rainy days," she declared with emphasis. " I 
 b'leeve I'm happiest of all on them days. Why, I 
 wouldn't no more live in one of them heathen coun- 
 tries what don't have rain, the kind John talks 
 about, than I'd live in a land where the folks 
 don't have no religion." 
 
 Phil drew up her chair, put both arms on the table, 
 and fixing two big, somber eyes upon her companion, 
 demanded with startling clearness, " What is relig- 
 ion, Ma Comfort ? " 
 
 Mrs. Giddings dropped her sewing, and, inciden- 
 tally, stuck a needle into her thumb. " Laws a 
 mussy ! " she exclaimed, honestly staggered, " JN"ow 
 how, in Jerusalem, can Ma answer a whole question 
 like that all in a minute. Why, religion, you know, 
 why religion," she stumbled. 
 
 Phil broke in impatiently. " Oh, I know it's 
 something about going to church, and reading the 
 Bible, and saying your prayers every night. But I 
 don't mean those things," she said, fretfully. 
 " Anybody can see them. What I mean I mean," 
 here it was Phil's turn to stumble. " Is that your 
 church, Ma ? " she asked, finally giving up the knotty 
 problem. " The one where I saw you yesterday ? 
 The one what my stepmother calls * Presbyter- 
 ian'?" 
 
 At this question Ma relaxed, as it were, into a
 
 156 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 great wave of relief, for here was a query to which 
 she could reply. 
 
 " Law, no, child ! " she answered. " I couldn't 
 run long with them good Presbyterians. They don't 
 never loosen up their denominational corsets. As to 
 jinin' their church, they wouldn't have me as a 
 gift, not with a pound of fine tea throwed in for 
 a premium. But don't make no mistake 'bout they 
 bein' jest what they purfesses to be, honest, sanc- 
 terfied Christians. Me and Pa Giddin's is yet to 
 have trouble with a Presbyterian payin' his bills. 
 They's high-minded, all right, but when it comes to 
 fo'leevin' like they do, 'bout bein' predestined to 
 wrath, and the skulls of poor unbaptised babies 
 No," ended Ma with a vigorous shake of her head, 
 " them kinds of hard doctrines ain't for old Comfort 
 Giddin's." 
 
 " Then why do you go to their church if you don't 
 believe in it ? " questioned Phil, in her most com-, 
 monsensical manner. 
 
 Mrs. Giddings' eyes twinkled. " You think you 
 got Ma that time, don't you, Miss Smarty? Well, 
 the fact is, I guess I'm made funny. It's a clear 
 case of any church bein' better'n no church with me. 
 I seems jest to like settin' amongst people that is 
 shed all their meanness for an hour, and is gathered 
 together praisin' God. I never felt piouser in my 
 life than onst when a rainstorm drove me into a sin- 
 nergogue. An old boy with whiskers read outer the 
 Bible, the same Bible we has, and never was the 
 hook read more fervent. As I sat there amongst
 
 A "BLUE MONDAY" SERMON 157 
 
 them quiet, listenin' Hebrews, I kept on sayin' under 
 my breath, ' They's got the reel thing, is these 
 Jew-folks. They b'leeves what they preaches, and 
 lots of them practice it too! And after all, where 
 would we be, how could they be any Christians, if it 
 warn't for the Jews ? ' 
 
 " But that isn't Presbyterians," Phil reminded. 
 " We were talking 'bout the Presbyterian church yes- 
 terday." 
 
 " That's so," admitted the other. " Yes we was. 
 Well, I goes to that church a little oftener than to 
 the others, jest because old man Quirter's so feeble. 
 He couldn't hold down his job in the city no more, 
 and the synod, they wished him on to Kington. 
 Sence it's did, it seems to me up to the Christians in 
 Kington to make the old fellow feel that he ain't 
 wastin' his ministrations here amongst us." 
 
 This exalted philosophy being somewhat beyond 
 Philomel's reach, she flung in a new question. 
 
 " Have you ever been in my church, Ma Comfort ? 
 In a 'Piscerpalean church anywhere ? " 
 
 " Has 1 1 " cried Ma. " More times than I'm 
 takin' these stitches. Now there's reel folks for you, 
 all settin' up straight, and smellin' so clean, and 
 answer in' back from their little gold-edged books, 
 like nice, biddable Sunday-school children. I don't 
 blame them for likin' their ways. And they ain't 
 no other, exceptin' it be Roman Catholics, that is so 
 eartin sure of their church bein' the best if not the 
 only one." 
 
 This eulogy left Phil slightly cold. " When you
 
 158 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 were a little girl, Ma," she pursued rather tim- 
 idly, " did you go to the 'Piscerpalean Sunday 
 school?" 
 
 " ~No, dearie, it didn't happen to chanst so," was 
 the answer. " From the first I was made for a 
 peaceful, easy-goin' old-fashioned Methodist, jest as 
 Pa Giddin's, bein' a seafarin' man, was cut out for a 
 Baptist." 
 
 Phil sighed. " Why should there be so many dif- 
 ferent sorts of churches anyway, Ma? It's awful 
 confusing." 
 
 The broad, smiling face sobered. " That's a ques- 
 tion I've asked myse'f more times than they is checks 
 on this apron," she said gravely. 
 
 The child's eyes grew even darker and more wist- 
 ful. " There can't be more than one God and one 
 Jesus, now can they, Ma Comfort ? " she asked, 
 speaking the great names with reverence. 
 
 " Don't seem so, now do it," replied Mrs. Gid- 
 dings, and echoed the little girl's sigh. Then with 
 a determined biting-off of a short length of thread, 
 and an arousing of her whole manner, she cried out, 
 " Of course they ain't, dearie ! What foolishness 
 is this we been talkin' ! There is jest only the one 
 shinin' Father, fillin' all space with His light, as 
 sure as that ocean out there is filled full of water! 
 We lives, moves, and has our bein' in Him, like the 
 fish swimmin' 'round in that sea." 
 
 The listener's troubled face brightened. "I be- 
 lieve I know what you mean, Ma," she cried. 
 " Yes, I know that I do. All the different named
 
 A "BLUE MONDAY" SERMON 159 
 
 Christians are just different named fish. And so 
 long as you are good, and do what he tells you, God 
 don't care a nickel whether you call yourself a trout, 
 or a catfish." 
 
 " You got it ! You got it first time, little gran'- 
 darter," exclaimed Ma Comfort in delight. " The 
 only puzzlin' part is the namin'. Now sayin' the 
 same sort of thing in another plain way, you might 
 liken them to the labels I glues to them jellies and 
 jams, back there on my preserve-closet shelves. The 
 flavor of fruits is a little bit various, and a good 
 thing they is ! But the great fact remains to be this, 
 that all is made sweet with the same God-f earin' 
 sugar, an' biled in the same big old pot of human 
 experience. All we mortals need strive for is to get 
 our full share of that sugar, and bile long enough 
 to keep us from sourin' an' bustin' our jars." 
 
 "Oh oh!" rippled Phil in an ecstasy. "Of 
 course it's like that perzackly. That's all we need 
 up at our house, some more sugar. And Ma," she 
 inquired, as a new fancy took her, "how do you 
 reckon we'd label 'Nunciata ? " 
 
 Ma considered, turning the now-finished patch 
 this way and that, until a slow grin widened her 
 large, pleasant mouth. " I guess we might call 
 Nuncy-yawter a sort of Madonna brand, impoted 
 out of Italy," she remarked, chuckling aloud at her 
 own wit. 
 
 Phil laughed too, but in a moment more the anx- 
 ious frown had come back. 
 
 " My stepmother and Rebecca say she's a Papist.
 
 160 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 I don't know what Papist is, but it doesn't sound 
 nice. What is it, Ma Comfort ? " 
 
 "Pooh! That for old shad-bellied Rebecca!" 
 cried Mrs. Giddings, snapping two fingers in scorn. 
 " What does she know about it, I'd like to ask ? 
 Why, me an' Pa lived for a whole summer onst in a 
 small Dago village, where all, to a man and the lit- 
 tlest baby, was Catholics, what's the same that 
 Rebecca means by Papists. They was never sweeter, 
 kinder, or more lovin' folks to each other than them 
 Dagoes, jest like the Bekkylokki's back there on 
 our own Bible Road. 
 
 " They tried proselytin' of me and your Pa Gid- 
 din's," reflected Ma, seeing how deeply Phil was in- 
 terested. " But, Lord ! It run off'n Pa's old weather- 
 tanned, Baptist back like water poured on to a drake." 
 
 " Did Pa go to his own church yesterday ? " 
 queried Phil, "while you and me was at Doctor 
 Squirters' ? " 
 
 Ma struggled to keep her face straight. " Don't 
 let it be known, little gran'darter," she said solemnly, 
 " but John Giddin's ain't no more of a Baptist than 
 you is a saucepan. He's a heathen, John is, 'thout 
 no reverence. Why, sometimes, to hear that blas- 
 phemious old sinner go on, you'd think that him and 
 the Almighty went out a-fishin' together, settin' side 
 by side on the log, and diggin' out bait from the same 
 old tin can. It's awful," Ma cried, trying hard to 
 appear both shocked and indignant. " As if the Al- 
 mighty had nothin' better to do than set there wastin' 
 time with a skinny old sailorman ! "
 
 A "BLUE MONDAY" SERMON 161 
 
 Phil pondered this strange picture gravely. All 
 at once her face flashed into brilliant tenderness. 
 
 "But, Ma, how can we know that God don't?" 
 the thrilling voice challenged. " Uncle John is so 
 good to everybody, and dogs too ; and you know 
 when Jesus was on earth how much He loved good 
 fishermen. Maybe Jesus learned loving them from 
 His father." 
 
 Mrs. Giddings' face grew very red, while strange 
 twitchings appeared at the corners of her still-smil- 
 ing mouth. She wiped her eyes furtively. " Now 
 of all blessed babes and sucklins'," she murmured 
 unsteadily. "We don't know it, dearie ! " she cried 
 out. "And I'm the blasphemious sinner to doubt 
 it, and one more thing I have to tell you is this, that 
 no one church ain't been built big enough to hold 
 John Giddin's' love for his Maker ! " 
 
 Phil nodded entire belief in this statement, "I 
 bet too," she ventured, " that Pa's church is best of 
 them all, just because it hasn't any fence around it, 
 or a roof to shut you in. I wonder what he would 
 think of the Foot-Washing Baptists, where Mammy 
 Jane goes, and the Holy-Rollers, that 'Lijah joined 
 just before I left Grandma's 2 " 
 
 Ma looked startled. " Holy-Boilers ! Foot- 
 Washin' Baptists," she echoed incredulously. 
 " Well, I thought I heern tell of them all, but these 
 two beats me. What does they do? What kinder 
 sex is they, child, I wanter know ! " 
 
 " Why," stammered Phil, striving to recall some 
 details, " I'm not sure, but I think that in Mammy's
 
 162 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 church, once every year all the sisters have to get 
 down on their knees and wash the elder's old foots, 
 feet, I mean, and then wipe them off with the 
 hairs of their heads, like a lady in the Bible." 
 
 Ma showed signs of suppressed mirth. " Well, 
 and the Rollers ? " she asked in a stifled voice. 
 
 " They were something right new," Philomel re- 
 plied. " When 'Li jah wanted to join, Mammy said 
 she'd take every inch of black skin off his hide be- 
 fore she'd let him, but he did. You roll over and 
 over on the ground, or the floor, and when you are 
 dizzy enough, the l Sperrit ' makes you holler, and 
 cry, and tell things that are going to happen. I 
 wanted to hear 'Li jah hollering, but Cousin Betty 
 wouldn't let me. She said it was just like a dog 
 having fits." . 
 
 " I guess your Cousin Betty was right too," agreed 
 Mrs. Giddings, drying her eyes on her apron. fow, 
 rising, she tied the blue checks around her waist, and 
 observed in her usual dominant way, " That's enough 
 of religion, even for a Blue Monday. The sun's 
 strugglin' out, and I must get at my washin'. Don't 
 you bother that little gold head of yourn any more 
 'bout such questions, my lamb. Jest you be good, 
 mind your stepma, and be kind to folks around you, 
 for the Good Shepherd said they ain't but jest those 
 two things to remember, love God and your neigh- 
 bors. It's all there, so kiss Ma, an' let's get to 
 work. You can put more real, genuine religion into 
 cheerful work, than anything else I know."
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 GBOWING TIME 
 
 THE seeds of vines, vegetables, and annuals 
 given to the Italians by Mrs. Giddings on the 
 day of her welcoming visit had sprouted as one, and 
 were now cheerfully engaged in fulfilling Ma's 
 promise, that for swiftness they should rival the 
 famed beanstalk of valiant young Jack. 
 
 With all of their vigor, however, and the constant 
 weeding and tending by childish hands, it would be 
 some time yet before they had grown big enough to 
 soften the ugliness of the cottage. 
 
 Passers-by on Bible Road still averted their faces, 
 muttering something about, " beggars intruders 
 emigrants and disgrace." 
 
 In the whole neighborhood the scorn of the Hop- 
 kins family was the most bitter. Mrs. Hopkins, 
 especially, took pains to declare to her friends that 
 the nuisance next door was not to be tolerated, and 
 that her husband would soon find a way to be rid of 
 " that foreign den of disease." 
 
 Philomel was deeply interested in all things con- 
 cerning the Bertollottis, and longed to see their bare 
 garden space " come alive." She found frequent 
 means of creeping over to them through the orchard, 
 and each occasion was, of course, a new falsehood, an
 
 164 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 act of direct disobedience. Phil recognized this 
 quite well, but even the torments of conscience had 
 no power to make her relinquish these wonderful 
 friends. 
 
 The same instinct which had prevented her from 
 telling Ma Comfort of the enforced promise kept her 
 now from imparting it to Annunciata. Phil had 
 seen in the Italian girl a certain gentle dignity, a 
 deep-seated pride, which might easily have resented 
 the fact of Phil's persistence in coming, when for- 
 bidden to do so by her stepmother. 
 
 Besides these stolen visits of the American girl, 
 no resident of Kington, except kindly Mrs. Gid- 
 dings, and less frequently her husband, ever entered 
 the poor little home. 
 
 Under the old Merrill roof, life went on in the 
 same dull routine. Edgar's dog-bite was by now 
 practically healed. A small, angry scar at the base 
 of his thumb was still used as a lever when trying to 
 persuade Phil into playing jacks, or telling him one 
 of her fairy tales. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill made no suggestion as to the desir- 
 ability of Laddie's return, and seeing how happy the 
 beautiful collie appeared in his new quarters, Phil 
 did not urge it. Indeed she rather rejoiced that 
 Laddie's absence gave her one more clear excuse for 
 getting away from Edgar, Kebecca, and her step- 
 mother. 
 
 The dog was already an established member of the 
 Giddings family. His exile upon Treasure Island 
 was over. Pa had built him a kennel, painted white
 
 GROWING TIME 165 
 
 with green trimmings, and tucked it snugly away on 
 the sand, just under the stern of the house boat. 
 
 Being a sailor-man, John Giddings kept by him a 
 good store of paint pots and brushes. When Ma 
 Comfort suggested, as she stood near watching the last 
 touches being given the kennel, that he let " the 
 Eye-talian boy Cris have a bucket and brush, so's 
 he can paint out that turrible mince-meat of letters 
 and pieces of pictures on the side of their house," 
 Pa nodded, well-pleased. He at once lit his rancid 
 old ship lantern, and went through the hatchway 
 down into the hull, to return with an astonishing 
 hoard. 
 
 He gave Cris not only paint, with a couple of 
 brushes for applying it, but he brought up an ex- 
 tension ladder, which required the combined strength 
 of five Bertollottis to drag from the beach, and along 
 Bible Road to their house. 
 
 Two layers of white on the " crazy-quilt " walls 
 made, indeed, an astonishing difference. Just on 
 the frame of the front doorway, when the first coat 
 was not quite dry, toddling Rosa Maria had pressed 
 a small open hand, leaving a mark like a starfish. 
 When preparing to put on the second coat, Cris, see- 
 ing it, smiled, and outlined the mark in a delicate 
 oval. Rosa Maria's initials and her age he wrote 
 underneath, and then the whole family assembled to 
 exclaim and rejoice over their new treasure. 
 
 White paint and green vines were indeed trans- 
 forming the walls of the cottage, but the dreadful 
 patched roof of tin, shingles, and slate still re-
 
 166 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 mained a problem. It was the sick father in town 
 at the hospital who, talking it over with Cris, finally 
 reached a solution. 
 
 The moment real summer appears, said the " Pa- 
 dre," the stove now in front of the fireplace must be 
 moved to the next room, and the pipe thrust out 
 through the wall at the rear. A square piece of tin, 
 hammered off from an old kerosene can, with a hole 
 cut into the middle, and placed around the pipe, 
 would make it perfectly safe. 
 
 This meant that the perky red chimney need not 
 be heated at all, but might be used as a central 
 point in training the vines upward, and from its tip 
 wires could be led to the corners of the house, supple- 
 mented with more wires, twine, and cord, stretched 
 and interwoven into a network. Later, when the 
 swift growing vines should finally meet and spread, 
 a complete and exquisite roof of green leaves would 
 cover the patched one. In exactly the same way, the 
 spindling posts at the corners of the piazza could be 
 built out into stately columns of fresh verdure. 
 
 For all of this training, much wire and string 
 were demanded. Pa Giddings, being told of the 
 need, merely smiled, disappeared into the hold, 
 and a few moments later came back, one arm crooked 
 through a great coil of galvanized wire, the other 
 hand swinging, along with the lantern, a tar-smelling 
 object that looked like a frazzled old hornet's nest, 
 but which turned out to be a loose knot of twine. 
 
 Ma beamed as she saw him emerge from the hatch- 
 way, and cried out, " If you don't beat the Dutch,
 
 GROWING TIME 167 
 
 you John Giddin's ! I honestly believe if a heathen 
 Chinee come round here inquirin' for the tomb of his 
 ant-sisters, you'd dive down in that hull, and climb 
 up with the slab in your arms." 
 
 The great weekly event for the Italians was, of 
 course, the visit of Cristofo. He came to them di- 
 rectly from the hospital, and there was always an 
 eager and breathless silence of listening for the last 
 news from " Poor Padre." 
 
 On this special Saturday, Phil, who had come to 
 the cottage on pretext of wanting to read in the or- 
 chard, stood near with the family. 
 
 To her utter dismay the tall boy, with his arm 
 over Mrs. Bertollotti's shawl-clad shoulders, ad- 
 dressed himself chiefly to her, and because of it, 
 spoke Italiano. Not one word could Phil under- 
 stand. From the nods, sighs, and faint smiles of 
 the others, she knew that what Cris was saying 
 brought much comfort. 
 
 " Yes yes," Annunciata now murmured (she, 
 thank goodness, was using American). " I was sure 
 Padre would take the big interest in our making a 
 garden, and I was just thinking it would help him get 
 well. His work in Italia," she said, turning toward 
 Phil, "was in gardens. He hates the city, poor 
 Padre ; if only he could be with us here ! " 
 
 This fervent wish caught Mrs. Bertollotti's atten- 
 tion. She looked appealingly from Annunciata up 
 into the face of her boy. Her lips began to move 
 and twitch ; her hands clasped and unclasped. All 
 at once, starting back from the group, she flung both
 
 168 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 arms wildly into the air, and wailed out, " Oh, 
 Mother of God! Mater Dolorosa! What to me are 
 the flowers and vines and the beauty! What the 
 sunshine outside, or the fat lady's fishes! My 
 heart dies within me for a sight of my husband, 
 Enrico. I must see him! I shall," she said 
 fiercely. " I am not yet the cold, sensible Ameri- 
 canos that you are, you children ! Stand aside. 
 I will go. On my feet will I walk to the city. An- 
 nunciata, you can cook the polenta. I care not if 
 you starve, all of you ! Do I not hunger and starve, 
 here here here ? " At these words she struck 
 her thin breast till it sounded to Phil like old 
 Mammy Jane making beaten biscuit. " Yes, I 
 perish for one sight of Enrico ! " 
 
 Cris and Annunciata sprang forward to restrain 
 the now frenzied woman. She continued to call on 
 God and the Virgin, fighting blindly, and trying to 
 bolt through the door. 
 
 In shivering terror, Phil clutched Tony, who 
 chanced to stand near. " Oh, Tonio, what is it ? 
 What's she saying ? " 
 
 "Aw! she's jus' trowin' fits fer to see de old 
 man," answered Tonio calmly. " She's done it be- 
 fore. It ain't nuttin'. She'll be troo in a minute." 
 
 Sure enough, in a very brief time, the poor soul 
 was "troo." Annunciata kissed her wet cheeks, 
 Cris patted and soothed her, and shy little Lucia, 
 stealing up, caught her mother's left hand, and, with- 
 out speaking, held it tight against her heart. 
 
 With a pitiful effort to smile, the Madre looked
 
 GROWING TIME 
 
 around on the young, loving faces, and stooping over 
 Annunciata, lifted the end of the orange-colored ker- 
 chief, and began to wipe her tear-streaming eyes. 
 
 The Madre went back into the kitchen and to the 
 polenta so recently scorned, while Annunciata, deftly 
 untying her wet kerchief, threw it down, and run- 
 ning to one of the dingy cloth bundles that seemed 
 to be established articles of furniture in that 
 household, drew from its contents a fresh cotton 
 square. 
 
 None of the Italians seemed to consider the inci- 
 dent as worthy of further attention, but Phil, shaken, 
 and trembling at her first sight of primitive passion, 
 felt her knees giving way. She sank down in the 
 rocker, and leaned her head back against the hideoua 
 tidy. 
 
 After this feast of emotion, the younger children 
 all scattered, all, that is, except Rosa Maria, who 
 was solemnly making her way around the bare wall 
 of the room, keeping upright by the sliding of tiny, 
 outspread, flattened brown hands that moved, inch 
 by inch, over the plaster. 
 
 Phil remained in her rocking chair. Annunciata 
 went to the corner, and leaned over to kiss Rosa 
 Maria, and, as she did so, picked up her three-legged 
 stool, and fetching it quite close to the visitor, re- 
 sumed her eternal lace making. 
 
 Cris was still standing near them. He glanced 
 about, nodding as if something had pleased him, and 
 took out from his breast pocket a folded square of 
 white paper.
 
 170 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Good work ! " he exclaimed. " I can show this 
 to you two girls now, without the kids buttin' in." 
 
 " Oh, what is it, Cris, a picture ? " cried Phil, 
 instantly curious. 
 
 " No, it's more of a map. Me and Dad worked it 
 out to-day in the hospital. The nurse gave us an 
 old fever-chart, and we drew on the back of it. It's 
 a plan of our garden as it's goin' to be when we've 
 finished." 
 
 In speaking, Cris had pulled out from under the 
 table the corner of one of the benches, and, seating 
 himself, spread out the paper evenly. 
 
 " And what's all that written at the bottom ? " 
 questioned Phil. " Oh, what beautiful writing ! 
 Did your father do that ? " 
 
 " No, I done it," answered Cris, greatly pleased. 
 " Do you think you could read it out plain ? " 
 
 " I should say that I could" exclaimed Philomel. 
 " Let me see, ' Monday, Tonio and Giovanni and 
 Lucia keep spading up rows for more onions.' Is 
 that right ? " 
 
 " Right as rain," smiled the boy. " And speakin' 
 of rain, if we don't have some soon, them kids has 
 to put in all Tuesday with waterin'." 
 
 Phil eyed him in some consternation. " How can 
 they? We haven't a speck of a sprinkling-pot. I 
 wish I'd brought mine from Grandma's." 
 
 " They'll jus' have to borrow more lard buckets 
 from Mis' Giddin's," said Cris. " Gee ! " he cried, 
 throwing back his spirited head, " But them two old 
 people is our friends, right enough. The day's got
 
 GROWING TIME 171 
 
 to come when I makes up to them for their kind- 
 ness." 
 
 " Oh, Cris, what does this mean ? " asked Phil, 
 who on reaching the schedule for Wednesday, had 
 stopped short at the magical term " Water-garden." 
 " It says here," she read out, " ' On Wednesday, start 
 digging the ditch from the bank to the place near 
 the road where the water-garden will be.' ' 
 
 Even Annunciata was interested to the point of 
 laying her small hoop aside, and curving her body 
 over the table. 
 
 " That's the old man's dandiest stunt," beamed 
 Cristofo. " Any old place can have vines and flow- 
 ers for the plantin', but they all can't have water 
 gardens, not by a jugful. What we purpose to do, 
 me and Dad, is to lead that thin trickle from Hop- 
 kins' fish-pond down through the marsh where it's 
 runnin' out boggy, to the place under the main road 
 where it goes into a culvert ; and just this side of the 
 fence, to spread it out into a pond of our own." 
 
 Phil's eyes shone with this vision. " A big pond ? 
 A pond just like Constantia's ? " she cried. 
 
 Cris shook his head. " Not a big one like that, 
 little Miss Nighteengale. On the other hand, it 
 won't have no dangerous, rotten dam for the holdin' 
 of it up. We'll make just a flat shiny lake, edged 
 with mosses, flowers and ferns, and the bottom spread 
 over with pebbles brought straight here from the 
 beach. We might have a goldfish or two swimmin' 
 'round," added the boy, his eyes twinkling, " if you 
 think Mr. Giddin's can catch some."
 
 172 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Oh, Pa can catch anything," stated Phil with 
 conviction. " Ma Comfort told me once that what- 
 ever sort of sea-critter Pa happened to want, it just 
 swam up, meek as Moses, and took hold of Pa's line." 
 
 " Some fishin', that ! " smiled Cris, rubbing the 
 back of his head, but Phil, ignoring his scepticism, 
 pulled down the arm and, tugging upon it, cried out, 
 " Oh, Cris, please show me just where you're going 
 to dig it. I can't wait; I want to see now. Come, 
 'Nunciata, come quick." 
 
 Cristofo, laughing, allowed himself to be drawn 
 through the door. Thus deserted, Annunciata had 
 a brief struggle between industry and desire, but as 
 the temptation to follow gained the day, she thrust 
 her needle flat into the lace, and sprang to her feet. 
 
 She moved toward the door, and then drew back. 
 Where on earth was Rosa Maria ? Surely only one 
 minute before, she had been under the table! The 
 big sister stooped, but there was no Rosa Maria.
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 THE WATEB-GABDEN 
 
 4 < T5 AM BIN A ! " Annunciata called softly. 
 JJ " Little sister, where are you ? " 
 
 " Google-goo ! " came a small, laughing voice, 
 startlingly clear. Annunciata, wide-eyed, stared in 
 the direction from which the sound had arisen. Not 
 a trace of the " googler " was to be seen. 
 
 Now a crow, as of mocking delight, filled the 
 silence, and at the same moment one of the thick 
 panelled doors at the base of the safe moved out- 
 ward by an inch. 
 
 The girl ran swiftly toward it, and falling to her 
 knees, stooped far down to peer within. This lower 
 portion of the wire safe was used as the family's 
 one storehouse. In it was kept the polenta, the salt, 
 and the onions. 
 
 In the rear, flattened close to the wall, one arm 
 over the bag of corn meal, her four front teeth gleam- 
 ing, grinned Rosa Maria. 
 
 " Oh, naughty one ! " cried the big sister. " You 
 must not hide in there, Rosa Maria. Just suppose 
 you had spilled the polenta ! " 
 
 The culprit was slowly dragged forth by one 
 ankle. Reproof was evidently forgotten, for hav- 
 ing secured her, Annunciata began rocking back and
 
 174 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 forth with the child in her arms, covering the soft 
 face with kisses. " Oh, you are dear ! You are 
 dolce, my Rosa Maria," exclaimed the sister in Ital- 
 ian. " I could eat you right up, from your head to 
 your toes, at this minute ! " 
 
 In response the baby, freeing one small arm, be- 
 gan to beat her captor on the nose. 
 
 " What ! So tired of kissing ! " Annunciata de- 
 manded. " Well, poor darling, I'm sure I don't 
 wonder. But then it's your own fault, Rosa Maria, 
 for being so perfectly sweet ! " 
 
 Now bearing the small, gleeful burden, Annun- 
 ciata moved out in the sunshine to find Cristofo and 
 Phil. The two, ringed about with excited young 
 Bertollottis, stood together at the rim of a low boggy 
 spot that lay near the road, and so close to one cor- 
 ner of the old Merrill orchard that, as they talked, 
 pink petals constantly drifted between them, waver- 
 ing and then settling down into the grass. 
 
 " The first thing to do," Cristofo was declaring, 
 " is to go to work on the shape. Or, I'm won- 
 derin'," he added, his gaze growing thoughtful, " if 
 we oughtn't to be diggin' the ditch." 
 
 Phil's eyes followed his to the distant red bank, 
 and slowly retraced the passage through marsh 
 growth to the spot where they stood. 
 
 " Why, Cris," she ventured, " seems to me that 
 the pond had better all be scooped out first, and the 
 edges piled round with dirt too. If you don't, 
 and the water's turned in, won't the children be up 
 to their knees in the mud while they are digging ? "
 
 THE WATER-GARDEN 175 
 
 " Sure thing ! " exclaimed Cris, " And good for 
 you, little Miss Nighteengale ! We'll stake the pond 
 now. Eun, you kids, go and break off a lot of sticks 
 from the alders and willows. Peel 'em too, so's 
 they'll show white when I plant them around. I'll 
 get Dad's plan, and we'll dope out this puddle right 
 on time." 
 
 The children, Phil with them, dashed into the 
 bushes, and a great snapping of twigs with gay 
 laughter ensued. Annunciata sat down on the near- 
 est gray stone with Eosa Maria in her lap, but that 
 infant, spying the strewn flowers, slipped to the 
 earth, and was soon seated among tufts of damp 
 grass, contentedly stuffing her mouth with the fallen 
 apple petals. 
 
 The big sister smiled, not attempting to stop her. 
 Eosa Maria had long since proved that she could 
 eat and digest anything this side of soap. 
 
 Cris returned with the chart, and a few moments 
 later all of the willow-twig gatherers ran back, each 
 one bearing a sheaf of peeled faggots. The Italian 
 boy now looked about for a tree trunk or post to 
 which the design might be fastened, as he would 
 need constantly to refer to the carefully drawn out- 
 lines. No trees except those of the orchard were 
 near, and to reach even the closest of them, one 
 must wade deep in ooze. 
 
 The crew of young workers stood silent, and all 
 of the grave, childish faces expressed a sudden con- 
 cern. 
 
 Finally Annunciata, drawing a pin from her
 
 176 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 neckcloth, suggested, " Why don't you fasten it across 
 Tonio's back, Cris? He could follow you 'round, 
 and stand still whenever you had to look at it." 
 
 " Fine ! " approved Cristofo. " Come here, 
 old sign post," he laughed, reaching out for his 
 brother. 
 
 " No, you don't ! " cried that youth, ducking and 
 grinning. " No bloomin' billboard for mine ! The 
 minute I wants ter see something Cris'll be a-twistin' 
 me 'round th' other way." 
 
 " Cris, pin it on me," sparkled Phil. " I don't 
 mind; put it here. I'm right flat." 
 
 With both arms extended and strained backward, 
 and her brown gingham chest nobly proffered, Phil 
 could indeed display a boardlike surface. 
 
 Amid a chorus of giggles, the chart was affixed. 
 Philomel had seen pictures of sandwich men, and 
 she thought of herself now as such a being, only of 
 course of a more splendid importance. Wherever 
 Cris moved she was near him, and, on the instant his 
 dark eyes were lifted, her chest was thrown out, and 
 her arms made rigid. 
 
 " Blue flag-lilies are starting to open back there 
 in the marsh," said Annunciata. " I got one this 
 morning, to put by the Blessed Virgin. They'd 
 look good at the edge of our pond." 
 
 " An' they is yaller ones too, Phil," whispered 
 little Lucia. 
 
 "Is they are there?" said Phil. "We'll be 
 sure to have them, Lucia. I love yellow flowers! 
 I believe, if babies' laughter could be turned into
 
 THE WATER-GARDEN 177 
 
 flowers, they'd just have to be yellow, like sun- 
 shine, don't you ? " 
 
 Lucia nodded. She and her constant companion, 
 Giovanni, were the silent and shy ones among the 
 Italians. Always cheerful, attentive, and quick to 
 ohey, they asked only to work side by side at what- 
 ever new task was allotted them. They were not 
 unlike a low musical accompaniment to more vig- 
 orous songs. Little by little, Phil had come to love 
 both very dearly. 
 
 Tonio, rather ashamed of having refused to let 
 his young back be used, had gone to the house for a 
 shovel. 
 
 " Yes, you can begin diggin' in scallops where the 
 white sticks are planted," agreed Cris, in reply to 
 the boy's question. " But make it even, and hold 
 your spade straight." 
 
 During the week that ensued, Annunciata, as over- 
 seer and general supervisor of all work, encount- 
 ered her first difficulties with the three small gar- 
 deners, for Tonio, Giovanni, and Lucia having, like 
 Phil, become utterly fascinated by the term " water 
 garden," went on strike, and refused to work any- 
 where else. 
 
 Tonio, shouldering the one spade, an old one 
 loaned by Pa Giddings, strode defiantly away to the 
 spot where the pond was to lie, while Jo, with Ma 
 Comfort's trowel, and Lucia, brandishing an old 
 kitchen spoon, as sturdily followed. 
 
 In vain Annunciata besought them to come back 
 and weed among flowers and swift-growing vege-
 
 178 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 tables. In vain did she threaten Cristofo's wrath 
 if, in returning, two more rows of tomatoes had 
 not been set out. For reply, Tonio shoveled, and 
 the two others, side by side, scooped frantically, 
 flinging earth about without speaking. 
 
 Although she lopged greatly to do so, Annunciata 
 herself did not dare attempt outdoor work. Those 
 delicate fingers of hers must be kept satin-smooth 
 for the weaving of lace. 
 
 Another warm, bright Saturday was here. The 
 entire Bertollotti family, including Phil, had for an 
 hour past been running back from the house to the 
 gate for a first glimpse of Cristofo. 
 
 When they finally saw him, the watchers all 
 gasped. Phil gave a low frightened cry, and An- 
 nunciata crossed herself piously, for, under the boy's 
 arm, as he strode rapidly toward them, was a large 
 unwrapped object that looked like a corpse. 
 
 Laughing gaily at the horrified stares he en- 
 countered from the garden, Cris marched by with- 
 out speaking, and set his strange burden upright on 
 the verandah. 
 
 " It's a Greek water nymph," he announced. 
 " Her name's Clytie. Funny, ain't it ? " he in- 
 quired, with a bright side-glance at Phil, " how most 
 of the prettiest girl-names seem to be Greek ? " 
 
 Philomel, delighted and embarrassed, hung her 
 head, while a swift tide of crimson stole up to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " Your nimp's name may be all right," remarked 
 Tonio, seizing rudely on Clytie's back hair. " But
 
 THE WATER-GARDEN 179 
 
 what did yer bring de dame out fer ? She's busted. 
 Her elbow is cracked, and one foot's gone." 
 
 " Don't you 'spose I know she's busted ? " the 
 big brother retorted. " I wouldn't a' got her at all, 
 if she warn't. The elbow and foot's in my pocket, 
 an' a lot of plaster of Paris to mend them. She's 
 to stand at the edge of the pond, lookin' down, 
 like you see her, 'mongst the rocks and lilies and 
 ferns." 
 
 " Oh, won't that be perfectly scrumtious ! " said 
 Phil. " Is that thing in her hand a fat loaf of 
 bread with a very small end ? " 
 
 Checking Tonic's, " Ho-Ho ! " with a scowl, Cris- 
 tofo answered, " No, Miss Phil, it's a conch shell, 
 like those on Mis' Giddin's' mantel, only bigger, and 
 not so pink. All the nymphs used to carry them, 
 same as ladies, these days, carry hand bags. You 
 see that hole in the end there ? " He pointed. 
 
 " Yes, I see. Ma Comfort's shells don't have any 
 holes in the end," Philomel stated. 
 
 " No, I suppose not," said Cris. " There ain't 
 any reason for them needin' such things, but there 
 is a need for this one. I'm goin' to lead water 
 through it, so's it'll fall down at the edge of the 
 pond, and make that pretty tricklin' music. Now," 
 he cried, turning away from the statue, " let's all go 
 see how much the kids have done to get Miss Clytie's 
 lookin'-glass ready." 
 
 Even when the pond was scooped out to Cristofo's 
 approving satisfaction, and the granite boulders and 
 pieces of rock in place on the banks, it required an-
 
 180 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 other full week for the children to fetch sufficient 
 pebbles to cover completely the bottom of the ex- 
 cavation. No dark-colored stones were accepted, 
 only smooth, waterwom pebbles, of clear white, pale 
 yellow, or pink. 
 
 The next Saturday, when Cris was at home, the 
 digging of the ditch was begun. This was "man's 
 work " as Tonio more than once vaunted. Only he 
 and Cristofo dared undertake it. Pa Giddings had 
 found, in his inexhaustible hold, a second old spade, 
 and the two boys, barefooted, their trousers rolled 
 high, splashed, waded, and dug, while near them, on 
 earth comparatively dry, the others watched the 
 process. 
 
 The neat trench had now gained that dank, soggy 
 spot called by all of the children and Phil, " Saint 
 Cristofo's Ferry " and on reaching the farther edge 
 leading on to the pond, Cris had stopped long 
 enough to find a wide plank, which he laid over the 
 ditch with one end touching the Merrill's crumbling 
 wall. 
 
 Drawing his slim figure up, the boy looked around 
 for Phil and catching her eye, cried out exultingly, 
 " How's that strike you, Miss Nighteengale ? No 
 more boggin' for you after this." 
 
 Phil eyed the achievement with mingled delight 
 and dismay. Of course it was an improvement, and 
 better than jumping from one tuft of roots to the 
 other, and slipping at least once; but, on the other 
 hand, suppose some of the Merrills, old Rebecca 
 or Edgar, for instance, should chance to walk
 
 THE WATER-GARDEN 181 
 
 down through the orchard and see it! What would 
 they think? 
 
 During the warm days to follow, Phil's pride and 
 joy in the wonders being so steadily accomplished 
 by her friends never once flagged. She weeded and 
 dug with them. No flower opened without her be- 
 ing asked to see and delight in it. She and Ma 
 Comfort loved to talk of the Italians, of their in- 
 dustry, of their lightheartedness and wonderful 
 kindness, one to another. 
 
 At Phil's home, these secret visits of hers were 
 not suspected. Mrs. Merrill indeed had once re- 
 marked upon her stepdaughter's long hours in the 
 orchard, " Why you should prefer reading your 
 books in a tree, or sitting on damp ground, is be- 
 yond me," she observed. " I don't see why you 
 can't stay in the house, and sometimes read aloud to 
 your brother, but if that is your idea of enjoy- 
 ment, I suppose there is nothing more for me to 
 say." 
 
 And yet, with danger averted, and the Bertol- 
 lotti garden changing, day by day, to a carpet of 
 bloom, with even the lovely pond complete, Phil 
 was far from being a contented or a happy girl. 
 
 It seemed as if, somewhere inside of her, there 
 was always strife. The two Philomels, who had 
 once kept her wakeful, now at the most unexpected 
 moments started up a jangling discord. From an 
 hour of wild, carefree play with the Bertollottis, she 
 would cross the board of Saint Cristofo's Ferry and 
 creep home, feeling so languid and fretful that even
 
 182 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Rebecca noticed it, and recommended sulphur and 
 molasses as a spring tonic. 
 
 Truly enough Phil was needing a tonic, but not 
 of the sort given in spoons. As surely as pinks and 
 petunias were growing next door, just so surely in 
 her heart, things were spreading and strengthening, 
 the dark thorny weeds of hypocrisy and deceit. 
 
 At times, as a kind of atonement, she did try with 
 all of her might to be patient with Edgar, silent un- 
 der Rebecca's fault-finding, and courteous when her 
 stepmother was near. But, somehow, these good 
 resolutions never lasted long. Even while striving 
 to be gentle, the sharp words managed to spring to 
 her lips and be spoken. 
 
 Rebecca openly called her a " terror," while Mrs. 
 Merrill, more guarded, admitted that her stepdaugh- 
 ter was difficult. 
 
 "If only I dared to tell Ma Comfort," thought 
 the child to herself, more than once. " Ma would 
 make things come right in a minute." 
 
 But the web of wrongdoing that had been busily 
 spinning for so many weeks shut out frankness and 
 candor from Ma and Annunciata, as well as in 
 Phil's home. 
 
 One day, standing alone at the edge of the pond, 
 brooding darkly, Phil thought that, were the water 
 a little deeper, she would throw herself in it and 
 drown. At this tragic picture, her eyes filled with 
 tears of self-pity. " If I were dead they'd be 
 sorry," she murmured wretchedly. 
 
 But who other than herself had cause to be sorry ?
 
 THE WATER-GARDEN 183 
 
 Who, but she, knew of the facts that now wrought 
 her misery ? " Yes," she sighed, pushing the thick 
 hair straight back from her brow, " it's just me. 
 It's not anybody else that's to blame." 
 
 The nymph from her conch shell poured silvery 
 music. Two small yellow butterflies clung and 
 swung to a purple iris near. 
 
 Phil slowly bent over, and studied her fair child- 
 ish face intently. 
 
 " I'm a liar," she muttered between her clenched 
 teeth. " I reckon the bad man will get me. But I 
 hate them at home, and I just can't give up the 
 Bertollottis."
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE IN BIBLE ROAD 
 
 SUMMER came early that year, with no single 
 capricious relapse into the chill days of 
 spring. Vines and flowers on the Bertollotti house 
 and in the front garden hurried as if small, invisi- 
 ble earth fairies were lashing them upward. Na- 
 ture, it would seem, had determined to make up to 
 the Italians for the long sum of human unkindness 
 they had suffered. 
 
 But of late there had been definite signs of im- 
 provement even in this. Fewer scowls were flung 
 over the fast-budding fence, and more smiles of ap< 
 proving encouragement. Many spoke of the 
 " pluck " of the Bible Road beggars. 
 
 Ma Comfort repeated in triumph a remark made 
 by Mr. Hopkins, the Bertollotti's chief enemy, to 
 the effect that he didn't see why all his money failed 
 to employ gardeners who worked half so well. 
 
 The words were spoken directly to Pa Giddings 
 who, after a moment of thoughtfulness had replied, 
 " Wall, Mr. Hopkins, when you gits along in years, 
 as I be, I guess you'll find out fer yourself that, 
 somehow, there ain't none o' the best things o' life 
 to be bought jes' with money." 
 
 All that brown, hopeful Italian fingers had toiled
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE 185 
 
 for, all that the sick father had thought out, and 
 planned, and portrayed, reached, in July, a brilliant 
 completion. 
 
 Flowers glowed with more radiant beauty and 
 clustered more thickly than stars in the midsum- 
 mer sky. A blind man in passing the garden would 
 have known it was there because of the buoyant per- 
 fume wafted outward. 
 
 Cris heightened considerably the two charred 
 gateposts, and across the top he nailed a branching 
 bare tree limb, a drift log which Philomel's keen 
 eyes had perceived on the beach. 
 
 The ends stuck out quite a bit, turning the en- 
 trance into a sort of immense, verdant " H," with 
 the upper bars of the letter unbroken. The 
 vines, clambering in great loops up and over, swept 
 downward again to the fence, where, following its 
 line east and west, the green hedgerow touched on 
 one hand the rim of the old Merrill orchard, and on 
 the other, the rise of the Hopkins' estate. 
 
 Coral-hued clusters of the scarlet runner burned 
 and tossed in perpetual small flames. With each 
 dawn, a fresh crop of flaunting Japanese morning- 
 glories appeared, big as saucers and colored like 
 rainbows. From the gate and the fence, and back 
 to a throng on the house-top, they blew echoes of 
 rapturous beauty. 
 
 Phil, gazing about, said many a time to herself, 
 " It's a Peter Pan house. A reel Peter Pan 
 house." 
 
 The walk from the gate to the house had been
 
 186 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 spread with white sand, brought pail by pail from 
 the shore, by a small caravan of patient, black- 
 headed human ants, and bordering it at each side,, the 
 rich foliage making a striking contrast with the glis- 
 tening surface of sand, was a thick, crowding growth 
 of common dandelions. This too had been one of 
 the Padre's suggestions. 
 
 When the round, yellow suns began evenly to 
 bloom, it was as if strips of pure gold were rolled 
 back from the fence to the house front. 
 
 Pedestrians now loitered, staring and wondering. 
 It seemed incredible that only a few months before 
 this spot had been known as an " eye-sore," the 
 disgrace of an orderly neighborhood. To-day, 
 scarcely a motor car passed, unless the big gray one 
 of the Hopkins', without a quick order being given 
 the chauffeur to stop. 
 
 The richly dressed motorists would gaze as if not 
 believing their senses. " What a miracle ! " one 
 and then another would exclaim. Instead of the 
 hard words that had often caused the little lace- 
 maker to hang her head, and even wipe tears from 
 her overfilled eyes, she now joyed in listening to 
 such terms as " Too utterly sweet," " Quite enchant- 
 ing," " A fairylike gem of a place." 
 
 Perhaps in all of the small paradise thus spread 
 out before them, it was the pebble-lined pond, with 
 its stones and bordering hillocks planted close with 
 ferns, mosses, and iris, where the slim, drooping 
 Clytie eternally emptied her shell, that called forth 
 the warmest admiration.
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE 187 
 
 In between the bright mirror of the pond and the 
 gold ribbon of dandelions, following the line of the 
 fence, there now grew a level, continuous field of 
 many-hued Shirley poppies. The tissue-like blos- 
 soms were literally touching, and in the whole web 
 and woof of radiant color not one flaw was seen. 
 Those who gazed upon it, whether humbly on foot, 
 tiptoeing over the fence, or leaning back compla- 
 cently against linen-covered motor-seats, needed to 
 wink hard, to be sure that the vision was real. 
 
 How it " happened " that good Mrs. Giddings, 
 three months earlier in the season, after looking 
 thoughtfully over the dreadful expanse of dark ooze, 
 had been able to go home, and next day suddenly find 
 in her seed box four whole packages of these special 
 poppies, is one of those marvels better left to the 
 working of faith than to reason. Nor was it the 
 garden of the Bertollottis only that bloomed. The 
 Hopkins' quarter-mile of Crimson Ramblers, planted 
 less than two years before against the new stone wall 
 that tried hard to look old, showed an arresting and 
 continuous border of vermilion. 
 
 On a visit to Ma Comfort and Laddie one day, 
 Phil paused at the top of the hill and looked down. 
 She clearly recalled that chilly spring morning, back 
 in April, when she had stood in the very same spot, 
 her heart filled with compassion for the poor souls 
 who might need to live in the " crazy-quilt " cottage. 
 
 Smiling now, she thought, " It's like Tannhau- 
 ser's old wooden staff turned to roses. It's like Cin- 
 derella changed from her sooty rags into a court
 
 188 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 dress of silver and gold. Don't anybody turn up 
 their noses at 'Nunciata's house these days." 
 
 Phil laughed to see that even the Hopkins' 
 myriad of red roses, so pretentious in effort, merged 
 quite naturally into the rich brocade of the Italian 
 garden, and seemed to be merely an overflow of its 
 beauty. 
 
 Moving forward to the beach, and being still ab- 
 sorbed in her pleasing reflections, Phil did not notice 
 that she was beside the wide driveway entrance of 
 the Hopkins' place, nor that just within it stood the 
 overdressed Constantia. 
 
 Her eyes narrowed as they fell upon the little girl, 
 for Phil had never forgotten nor forgiven the jeer- 
 ing laugh the day she fell into the thorn-beset ditch. 
 
 The pains Constantia took to keep her back to the 
 road, and the preoccupied way in which she leaned 
 over the flowers, fondling a cluster, and then bend- 
 ing slowly to smell it, would have told one far less 
 keen than Phil how entirely Constantia was aware 
 of her nearness. 
 
 The two were abreast, Philomel trying to walk 
 like Eebecca in passing the " Eye-talians," when a 
 low voice from the roses said " Hello ! " 
 
 Phil disdained a reply. Her nose twitched, and 
 she felt very important. 
 
 " Hello, girl ! " repeated the voice, this time con- 
 siderably louder. " My Ma-ma says," it went on, 
 " that you and your brother could come here and 
 play with me sometimes, if you weren't allowed to go 
 into the house of those filthy Italians."
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE 189 
 
 " I don't go inside ! " Phil's fear stung her into 
 retorting. " And I'm not allowed. I I just love 
 to watch them from the orchard." 
 
 " I do too," admitted Constantia, drawing closer. 
 " It's the reason why I keep climbing that bank, 
 though Miss McCracken says I mustn't. There's 
 one boy that's terribly rude. Some day I'm going 
 to throw a big stone down and smash him. Say, 
 girl, if you really don't go into their house, I'll run 
 right in this minute, and ask my Ma-ma if I can 
 play with you. What's your name ? " 
 
 "My name's Phil Merrill, but you needn't take 
 the trouble to ask," said Phil coldly. " I don't want 
 to have anything to do with you or your old stuck-up 
 Ma-ma. You laughed when I fell into your old 
 ditch." 
 
 " You'd V laughed too," said Constantia, in a 
 tone meant to conciliate, " if you'd been reading 
 ' Uncle Kemus,' that part where Brer Eabbit falls in 
 the briar-patch. It's splendid ! Say, Phil Merrill," 
 she coaxed, moving closer, " if you come in and 
 play, I'll lend you my big Uncle Remus. It's 
 crowded with pictures, all funny ones." 
 
 The words of the charmer were sweet. Phil loved 
 books, and had never possessed a whole copy of 
 " Uncle Remus," though Mammy and 'Lijah used 
 frequently to refer to " Brer Rabbit " as to an inti- 
 mate comrade. 
 
 The struggle was brief. She knew that in mak- 
 ing friends with Constantia, she must give up her 
 visits to the Bertollottis. With Annunciata and the
 
 190 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 small Rosa Maria in one scale, and the rude Hop- 
 kins child in the other, well, it did not take long 
 to decide! 
 
 But because of her genuine desire to read Uncle 
 Remus, and to be friends with a girl who smelled 
 and looked like a wonderful new doll, Phil's answer 
 was more curt than she realized. 
 
 " No, I don't want to play with you, never! " 
 she declared, her blond head tossing defiance. 
 
 Constantia winced. Such snubbing was new to 
 her pampered existence. Her eyes flashed with 
 anger, then, conquering pride, she pursued, " If 
 you'll come, you can ride my bicycle all day." 
 
 Phil writhed under seduction. She had always 
 wanted a bicycle. " I won't, No, I wont ! " she 
 cried out. " I don't want your wheel, or your books, 
 neither. I don't like girls that chunk rocks down, 
 and call Tonio names. You're an airy, spiled 
 minx, cause Rebecca said so. I wouldn't come in, 
 not for ham! " 
 
 Leaving these barbed words to rankle, she strode 
 on. Her heart beat fast with excitement. She told 
 herself many times over that she had served Con- 
 stantia just right. 
 
 " I reckon she thinks because she is so rich, and 
 me and the Bertollottis are poor, that we've got to 
 do what she says. But I sassed her all right ! " mut- 
 tered Phil, and wondered, even in speaking, why she 
 felt so far from triumphant. 
 
 The doubt made her feet lag. She drew near the 
 house boat rather slowly. Ma Comfort, within, sang
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE 191 
 
 aloud, as if from the depths of a heart nearly 
 broken, 
 
 " In the ha-zel dell my Nellie's ste-e-e-pin', 
 
 Nellie, loved so lo-o-o-ng, 
 An' my mournful, mournful watch I'm fce-e-e-e-pin' 
 
 Nellie, lost an' gone. 
 Hopes that onst my boosum fondely cfter-r-r-ished, 
 
 Smile no mo-o-o-re on me. 
 Fer my dre-e-e-am uv love hath sadly per-r-r-ished 
 
 Nellie, dear, with th-e-e-e- 1 " 
 
 The listener's shoulders moved irritably. " Why 
 on earth," she reflected, and not for the first time, 
 " does Ma Comfort, when she's so gay and happy, 
 have to be always singing about somebody buried or 
 dying?" 
 
 But such was the good lady's paradoxical custom, 
 and Phil, knowing it only too well, resigned herself 
 now to the chorus, and the death-watch being kept by 
 the sorrowing lover. 
 
 Ma, over her washtub on the little poop deck, rose 
 and fell, elbow-deep in white suds. 
 
 " That don't look like Pa's shirt," stated Phil, as 
 she noted the gray gingham object that was, at the 
 moment, being vigorously soaped. " Why, it's 
 Tonio's ! " she added, in astonishment. 
 
 " Hush ! " warned the laundress, glancing round 
 as though squirrels might overhear her. " 'Tis 
 Tony's, an' the dirt I got outer it would plant a 
 whole acre in watercress. This here is Loosher's red 
 caliker," she vouchsafed, lifting by her thumb and 
 one finger a soggy and dripping brown lump.
 
 192 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " And I managed to git holt of a pair of that Ho- 
 gew's little pants. Lord ha' mussj ! " Ma ex- 
 claimed, distorting her nose at the memory. " A 
 woodpecker's nest would smell like a vi'let beside 
 'em! They's over there," she said, nodding ob- 
 liquely, " in the garbage pail, soakin' in lime." 
 
 The girl clambered up to the railing near by, and 
 hunched her slight figure dejectedly. " I do love all 
 the Bertollotti children, Ha Comfort," she began, 
 " but I do wish they were cleaner." 
 
 Mrs. Giddings cast a shrewd glance at the speaker, 
 but said nothing. 
 
 " I suppose," brooded the child, as no further re- 
 marks from the washtub seemed imminent, " they 
 have to be dirty because they are emigrants. My 
 stepmother and Rebecca are always saying so. Is it 
 a very bad thing to be an emigrant, Ma Comfort ? " 
 
 Thus directly appealed to, Mrs. Giddings drew 
 herself upright. Her shrewd, yet kindly eyes, were 
 just on a level with those of her visitor. 
 
 " No," said she firmly. " Emigrants is the very 
 foundation of our nation. What would America be 
 to-day without 'em ? A passel of wild Injuns, dancin' 
 war dances, and whooping about with their head 
 stuck full of turkey tails. America, as we knows 
 and loves it, is only a great big land of prosperous 
 emigrants. Look out and around for yourself, all 
 up and down the beach, facin' Hope Bay. Not one 
 of them big, shiny houses, but was built by the son, 
 or the gran'son or the great gran'son of a emigrant." 
 
 Phil obediently stared forth to the Bay. The
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE 193 
 
 various towers and turrets, rising in glittering peaks 
 here and there from the midsummer greenness, each 
 sprang out with a new meaning. 
 
 " It's God's truth," declared Ma, much pleased 
 by the effect she was producing. " Take them cas- 
 tles and towers and villers, one by one. Descend- 
 ants of emigrants is livin' in one and all, and them 
 what is tryin' to put on most airs is the ones most 
 ashamed of they origine. That's a rule for sizin' 
 up people, that's not failed me yit. Reel folks can 
 afford to act decent, but mushrooms is scairt of the 
 sun. Why, jest for instance take the old gran'pa 
 of this same Mr. Hopkins what's movin' heaven and 
 earth to run the nice Beckilonnis away! Pa Gid- 
 din's remembers clear as day when the old feller ped- 
 dled these shores with a tray of danglin' down shoe- 
 strings, and brass collar buttons. He, " 
 
 Phil here broke in with a quick, low cry. On her 
 rail she was more vibrant and quivering than the 
 most excitable squirrel ever perched there. " You 
 don't mean Constantia's grandpa! Not that stuck- 
 up Constantia's own grandpa ! " 
 
 Ma blinked, and caught her breath as if at a dash 
 of cold water. 
 
 " Lordy Mussy, for-gim-me ! " she muttered, " and 
 shame to you, old Comfort Giddin's, to be talkin' 
 eech mess to a child. Here, lemme pour out this 
 mud " she grumbled, as she lifted the big tub, and 
 staggered under its weight to the sink. " As John 
 Giddin's says frequent, it's as nachul for me to keep 
 talkin' as it is for a bilin' teakittle to sing."
 
 194 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Phil laughed. 
 
 " Yes, my old tongue oughter be done up in curl 
 papers every mornin' before talkin' time starts. 
 But I'll tell you this one thing, dearie," she called 
 back over her shoulder, with her voice lifted to 
 carry above the clear running of water, " this one 
 thing more, then I'm finished. It may be up to 
 Americans to teach the emigrants to be clean, and 
 you see for yoreself that I'm doin' it," she threw 
 in, with a glance toward the clothesline, whereon 
 fluttered several small ragged garments, " but them 
 new emigrants is got a whole lot to teach us Amer- 
 icans too. Jest you show me one single fam'bly in 
 this country, from Maine down to Texas, and out 
 West, from Californy up to Or'gon, what in the 
 space of three months could change a two-room dis- 
 grace of a shanty, set down in the middle of a mud- 
 flat, into what them Eye-talians has made of the 
 little house in Bible Road." 
 
 " They couldn't, nobody could, but just the Ital- 
 ians," emphasized Phil. 
 
 " No more they could, and we knows it. An' by 
 this, all Kington, except them hard-headed Hopkinses, 
 admits it, that the Berkoionntis is made for them- 
 selves, out of nothin', the show place of this country. 
 And as for the Eye-talians themselves, where can you 
 find such patient workers, such lovin', unquarrelsome 
 children 'mongst one another; a big brother better 
 than Cris, or a big sister one half so sweet as Nuncy- 
 yawter ? What that fam'bly come over here for was 
 the same thing that brings or is brought all the rest,
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE 195 
 
 they hopes to get a fairer chanst of risin', and, 
 speakin' of risin'," she said hastily, " I got a whole 
 crock full of yeast doin' it, that I must go work 
 over oust more."
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 CRISTOFO'S PROMISE IS KEPT 
 
 A WEEK of unusual and stifling heat fell upon 
 Kington. Edgar was never allowed out of 
 doors until after sunset. He was fractious and pale, 
 and his stepsister, partly because of the weather, 
 but much more through the strain of continued 
 wrongdoing, was as wayward as he. 
 
 The daily necessity of making her bed and tidying 
 her room became to Phil more and more galling. 
 Running downstairs one sweltering morning, after 
 a mumbling, protesting performance of the task, she 
 bore a scowling young face to her stepmother, and 
 announced rudely, " I've finished my old room. 
 Now I'm going to light out for Ma Comfort and 
 Laddie, where I don't have to work none." 
 
 She was whirling away, when a quick, " Stop 
 where you are, Philomel," checked her. 
 
 She turned half-way round, her lips sullen. 
 
 " That is no way to ask my permission, Philomel," 
 reproved Mrs. Merrill. " And I cannot allow such 
 language to pass without correction. * Light out ! 
 Don't have to work none ! ' ' she repeated with a 
 delicate shudder. 
 
 " 'Lijah always lights out when Mammy Jane's 
 after him," muttered Phil in defense.
 
 CRISTOFO'S PROMISE IS KEPT 197 
 
 " Exactly," said Mrs. Merrill, compressing her 
 lips. " But as it happens, you are not Elijah ; nor do 
 I care to have Edgar's speech contaminated by such 
 crude, negro idioms. Then that dreadful phrase, 
 ' don't have to work none ! ' Why, Philomel, I'm 
 amazed ! " 
 
 Old Eebecca, who with her dustpan and broom 
 chanced to be passing, now volunteered, with a queer 
 look down at Phil. " Them last words sounds to 
 me more like the beggars next door than a colored 
 boy." 
 
 " You go along, Kebecca," snapped Phil. " This 
 ain't your tea-party. Well, Mother," the child cried 
 impatiently, facing about to Mrs. Merrill, " can I 
 go to the beach ? I ain't seen, I mean, I haven't 
 saw, Oh, shucks ! my tongue's twisted. I have 
 not seen," she measured off carefully, " Ma 
 Comfort or Laddie for two whole days." 
 
 Edgar had sidled up close for the pleasure of hear- 
 ing his sister admonished. His fretful voice now 
 rose. " If Phil goes to the beach, I'm a-going. It's 
 too lonesome here all by myself with nobody to play 
 with." 
 
 " Kot this morning, my darling," soothed the 
 mother, drawing the little boy close to her breast. 
 " I'm afraid to have you out when the sun is so hot. 
 Perhaps later on toward evening " 
 
 Edgar wrenched himself free. " I will go, too, 
 down to the beach," he cried angrily. " You don't 
 want me to have any fun! I won't stand for it, 
 neither. I'll run away, like Phil done. You see
 
 198 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 if I don't. Then you and Kebecca'll be sorry." 
 
 Phil's slow critical gaze went from the speaker's 
 face back to his mother. " Edgar said, ' Like Phil 
 done,' ' she remarked. " Why don't you scold 
 him?" 
 
 Mrs. Merrill's cheeks flushed. " I am capable of 
 managing my son without your advice or assistance, 
 Philomel," she answered sharply. " Instead of im- 
 pertinent criticism, you had better see the harm that 
 your example of running away has already done. 
 Edgar never thought of such a thing before you came 
 here. If now he should stray and be lost, I should 
 consider it entirely your fault." 
 
 " An' I'm goneter stray and get lost, soon as I 
 can," put in Edgar. " And it'll be just to spite you, 
 you old smarty Phil." To give added point to his 
 gibe, the boy thrust forth his tongue to a quite in- 
 credible extension. 
 
 Phil, prompted by her demon, and moving with 
 the swiftness of light, stooped over and gave him 
 a " chuck " under the chin. " Grandmammy 
 grandmammy thith thath thee ! " she 
 chanted with elfish delight. 
 
 " Oh my to'n my po' to'n," screamed Ed- 
 gar thickly, grasping the tip of that member, and 
 pulling hard to see if it held. " Philth made me 
 bite my ton' out, Mommer! Spank her, quick." 
 
 " Go at once to your room, Philomel," ordered 
 Mrs. Merrill, as soon as her voice could be heard 
 above Edgar's queer jabber of invectives. " For 
 this, and for your impertinence to me, you'll remain
 
 CRISTOFO'S PROMISE IS KEPT 199 
 
 in the house all day long. Not one step, not even 
 down to the orchard, now remember ! " 
 
 Phil did not protest or rebel. The dazzling vic- 
 tory just won over Edgar, and that narrow, pale 
 tongue so often sent forth in derision, was enough to 
 make any day sweet. 
 
 As she switched out of the door, her very skirts 
 flaunting rebellion, she heard Rebecca saying to Ed- 
 gar, " Come out into the kitchen, my pet, and hold 
 your poor little tongue in cold water. It's a shame, 
 yes, it is! Your stepsister deserves a good whip- 
 pin'." 
 
 On the following day, affairs at the Merrills were, 
 if anything, worse. Mrs. Merrill, almost distracted, 
 finally decided to send for her husband's old friend, 
 the good Doctor Evans. 
 
 Both children were carefully " gone over," and the 
 doctor announced that nothing whatever was wrong 
 except midsummer lassitude. 
 
 Phil, standing near, with the doctor's arm around 
 her, pondered the strange sounding word. " Lassi- 
 tude " was a disease she had never heard of. 
 
 Doctor Evans' next sentence brought dismay. 
 " It is safer, Mrs. Merrill," he said, looking up to- 
 ward that lady, "to keep both youngsters indoors 
 while this heat-wave is on. We can't run any risks 
 with this frightful scourge of infantile paralysis 
 spreading as it is." 
 
 Two more days filled with boredom and quarrels 
 slipped by. The next one was Sunday. Phil woke 
 early, and lay in her bed making plans.
 
 200 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 There must have been rain in the night, for the 
 air was much fresher and cooler. The family would 
 surely be going to church, and Phil firmly decided 
 that she would not be with them. 
 
 She dressed slowly, taking care to put on only old 
 " every-day " clothes. Eefusing to touch a mouth- 
 ful of breakfast, she declared she felt as " weak as a 
 kitten " and was not able to sit up in church. 
 
 " I don't know about leaving you in this big house 
 alone, Phil," said Mrs. Merrill anxiously. 
 
 " It'll be all right, Mother," pleaded the girl with 
 a fervor that made old Rebecca look suspicious. 
 " I'll just stay in my room on the bed, reading," the 
 hypocrite continued. " Can I have that book of 
 Edgar's about Jesus and the little lost lamb ? " 
 
 " Of course you can have it, dear," said the step- 
 mother kindly. " And any of Edgar's other books 
 you may want." 
 
 " She shan't either," piped Edgar. " I'm goin' to 
 hide them." 
 
 " Why, Edgar, is that my little boy speaking ? " 
 grieved the mother. " Your sister is sick, and I 
 know you will lend her your books. Go and get 
 them." 
 
 The brother ungraciously obeyed, while Mrs. Mer- 
 rill, still brooding over Phil, murmured, " If you 
 stay in your room all the time, and the doors of the 
 first floor remain locked, I don't see how any harm 
 can possibly come to you. What do you think, Re- 
 becca ? " 
 
 A quick hissing " Tscht ! " and a jerk of the al-
 
 CRISTOFO'S PROMISE IS KEPT 201 
 
 ready bonnetted head showed plainly enough how 
 Rebecca regarded this pampering. 
 
 Mr. Grudge and his bony old horse were, as usual, 
 on time, and the three churchgoers started. 
 
 Phil flattened her straight nose against a front 
 parlor pane, until the old surrey was well on its 
 way, and then, with a speed quite miraculous in one 
 unable to sit up in church, raced down to the orchard 
 and through it, over the plank of Saint Cristofo's 
 Ferry, along white-sanded walks between vegetables 
 and flowers, straight into the Peter Pan house. 
 
 The whole family was gathered in the front room, 
 staring down at something Cris had just set on the 
 table. 
 
 Phil worked her way to the center of the group and 
 then stopped short, from sheer delight and amazement. 
 
 " There, Miss Phil," cried Cristofo, with a nod to- 
 ward the table. " There's your Laddie I promised. 
 How d'you like him ? " 
 
 At first no words came, but at length the child 
 gasped, " Oh, Cris Cris ! How wonderful ! Did 
 you do it all by yourself? It's Laddie, my own 
 Laddie, only littler ! Do you mean I can have him 
 for mine, to take home ? " 
 
 " Sure, I made him for you. If you find him too 
 heavy to carry, me and Tony'll take him over when 
 you go." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, but don't bother. I'm sure I 
 can lift him," said Phil hastily, and leaning over, put 
 both arms around the statue, and tried it. 
 
 " Yes I can" she declared. " Oh, Cris, it's the
 
 202 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 beautifullest thing ever, and so perzacerly like Lad- 
 die, that all I'm afraid of is that he'll bark when I 
 get him to my house, and hide him." 
 
 The boy stared. " But what should you want to 
 hide him for ? And why shouldn't he bark ? " 
 
 Phil's face flushed. " It's Edgar, just Edgar," 
 she explained after a moment of agonized thinking. 
 " I wouldn't dare even to let Edgar see him. He's 
 so spoiled, that he'd break it up sure." 
 
 " I know," Cristofo said darkly. " I've had my 
 dose of your stepbrother, that time he was tryin' to 
 fling stones. But even he," the boy added, his scowl 
 passing, " would find it hard to break up Laddie. I 
 brought out a whole tin of plaster of Paris to mix up 
 with the clay. I^othin' this side of fallin' down- 
 steps is a-goin' to bust him." 
 
 " I do love it ! It'll keep me from missing my real 
 Laddie so bad," said Phil, fondling her treasure. 
 " I can never thank you enough, Cris, for making 
 this statue." 
 
 " You've thanked me a'ready," answered Cris, with 
 his beautiful smile, " in bein' so good to Annunciata, 
 and Rosa Maria, and the others. I don't forget 
 things like that in a hurry." 
 
 A few moments later all, except Phil and An- 
 nunciata, were back in the garden. Philomel had 
 long since ceased to be shocked at this happy, out-of- 
 door toil on Sundays. 
 
 " Stop a minute," murmured Annunciata. " You 
 haven't been over for four days, and I've got some- 
 thing I'm crazy to show you."
 
 CRISTOFO'S PROMISE IS KEPT 803 
 
 "Oh, what? What is it?" whispered Phil ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 " Wait till they've started to digging," warned 
 Annunciata. " It's something that Cris mustn't 
 know. Here, Phil, you sit on this end of the bench 
 near the table. You'll see them better spread out." 
 
 Tingling with a sense of mystery, Phil obeyed. 
 
 The Italian girl, moving softly, her ears keen for 
 a sound of intrusion, caught up her three-legged 
 stool. She placed it without noise in front of the 
 old battered safe, and stood upright. 
 
 " It's your lace," exclaimed Phil in a low tone, as 
 she saw the brown hands feel about overhead, and 
 then take up the well-known, flat pasteboard box. 
 "Is it finished?" 
 
 " Very near," replied Annunciata, stepping down 
 from the stool as noiselessly as she had mounted it, 
 and crossing to the table. 
 
 " The second to the last is on the hoop now, and 
 in another week, I ought to be able to get through 
 the last one," she told Phil. Talking always in her 
 soft, even voice which, nevertheless, at this moment 
 betrayed deep emotion, the Italian girl untied the 
 parcel, and began placing the squares upon the 
 table. 
 
 " Oh, here is one I never saw before ! " cried Phil, 
 as she bent over a white web which seemed to have 
 caught and held a bird's nest, with a mother bird 
 and three young. 
 
 " I like that one well, too," confessed Annunciata, 
 her cheeks, so like an autumn peach, flushing to a
 
 f 
 
 204 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 warmer crimson. " The nest was so small I couldn't 
 crowd in the whole family, only Madre, and Lucia, 
 and Hugo, and, of course, Kosa Maria. That tiny 
 one all fluffed up is Rosa Maria," she pointed. 
 " Isn't she too sweet ? " 
 
 " I do think you're the smartest girl in all the 
 world, 'Nunciata, to do these beautiful things ! I'll 
 bet Mrs. Hopkins is just crazy about them," pre- 
 dicted the little American. 
 
 While Annunciata was crossing herself in order to 
 further this prophecy, Phil, scowling a little, added 
 under her breath, " I certainly do hope that Mrs. 
 Hopkins won't put any of it on Constantia's 
 clothes ! " 
 
 As her friend began to pile the filmy squares one 
 upon another, preparatory to putting them away, 
 Phil demanded to know what was in the bottom of 
 the box. " It looks like a letter," she remarked. 
 
 " It is a letter. It's to me from my dear Sister 
 Agatha Mary, and inside is a smaller one directed to 
 Mis' Hopkins, telling her who I am, and saying 
 that I'm bringing her order of eight pieces, as per 
 contract with the Holy Convent," stated Annunciata 
 rather primly, in her effort to quote from the let- 
 ter. 
 
 " Oh, 'Nunciata, please let me see it for myself," 
 implored Phil, who in all affairs concerning the be- 
 loved Italians was almost as curious as Ma Giddings 
 herself could have been. 
 
 " Why surely, Pheelomel mia. I would love to 
 read it to you."
 
 CRISTOFO'S PROMISE IS KEPT 205 
 
 She took out the inner envelope, and sat down near 
 Phil on the bench. Side by side, the two heads, 
 one as dark as brown water in shadow, the other pale 
 gold, the exact tone of the yellow butterfly at that 
 moment hovering in the doorway, leaned above Sis- 
 ter Agatha Mary's letter. The smaller envelope 
 bore the address, 
 
 " Mrs. J. Huntington Hopkins, 
 Towers-by-the-Sea, 
 
 Beach Avenue and Bible Road, 
 
 Kington." 
 
 " That's Mrs. Hopkins, all right," declared Phil, 
 in a phrase taken directly from Tonio's large, slangy 
 store. " But here is the Madre coming in for the 
 polenta. That means it's most twelve o'clock, and 
 I must be taking my beautiful lovely statue of Lad- 
 die back home." 
 
 " Ah, Pheel, do, for this one day, being Sunday, 
 atay and eat the polenta with us," pleaded Annun- 
 ciata. " Cris is here. It will make him so happy. 
 For us all if you stay, it will turn the polenta into a 
 true festa." 
 
 Phil groaned in spirit and outwardly as well. 
 How she did want to stay ! But the bright head was 
 mournfully shaken, and in words nearer the truth 
 than usual, during these days of constant deceit, 
 she explained, " I can't this time, I just can't. You 
 see I played possum to keep from going to church 
 with the others and to get the chance of coming over
 
 206 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 here. I've got to get back to the house before my 
 stepmother comes. Don't you see for yourself, 
 'Nunciata?" 
 
 The Italian saw, and with a smile in which regret 
 and affection were dazzlingly blended, she said, " If 
 you must, then, I'll go to the edge of San Cristofo's 
 Ferry, to help you carry this heavy image. Per- 
 haps another Sunday when Cris is at home, you'll eat 
 dinner with us." 
 
 Phil bore her treasure upstairs. He was heavy, 
 but she thought of St. Cristofo and the infant, and 
 dared her loved burden to grow heavier. What 
 luck that she should have received it on the one day 
 that all of the family were absent! This fact 
 seemed to throw a rosy cloud of virtue over her own 
 misdeeds. 
 
 Once up in her room, Phil looked far and wide 
 for a hiding place. The trunk would not do, as it 
 was already more than half full. She opened her 
 two dresser drawers, and found that by putting most 
 of her scant clothing together, there would be plenty 
 of space for the image in the lower one. 
 
 Secreting it there, she was careful to spread her 
 dresses and petticoats over it smoothly. Then she 
 ran down to lock all of the doors, and had scarcely 
 finished doing so when the sound of "Whoa, Ad'- 
 mrul " told that the churchgoers had returned.
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 ANNUNCIATA AND " THE GOOD KIND MES. HOPKINS 
 
 BESIDES the Madre and Phil, the secret of 
 Annunciata's eight pieces of finest lace was 
 shared by Ma Comfort alone, and on the afternoon 
 of the day when the now finished set was to be de- 
 livered, that cheerful being chanced to " drop in " at 
 the Bertollottis, with a large basket of crabs on her 
 arm. 
 
 She found the two girls in the act of tying up the 
 flat box holding the -filet Phil had brought over 
 from her tumbled, top bureau drawer a somewhat 
 shabby length of blue ribbon, which she was now 
 insisting should be put around the package for " good 
 luck." 
 
 As Ma's ample figure filled the doorway, throwing 
 the room into temporary eclipse, the American child 
 looked up. " Oh, Ma," she cried out, " they are 
 every one done. Isn't it splendid! 'Nunciata is 
 going to carry them 'round to Mrs. Hopkins in the 
 morning, but she wants to start at six, and I know 
 that's too early." 
 
 " Good gracious ! Of co'se it's too early, Nuncy- 
 yawta ! " exclaimed Mrs. Giddings, as she set the 
 heavy basket down on the hearth bricks. " That 
 soon in the mornin' ain't wrote on the clocks of them 
 rich folks. You'd be safer to make it 'bout ten."
 
 208 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " That's just what I've been telling her, Ma," an- 
 nounced Phil in some triumph. " And I don't want 
 her to go at six either. I can't get away before 
 breakfast, and right after it, I have to clean up 
 my room ; but I must be somewhere around when she 
 comes marching out the Hopkins' big front gate, with 
 her hands full of money. How much do you reckon 
 it'll be, 'Nunciata ? " 
 
 " I can't be certain," answered the girl thought- 
 fully. " The convent sold the others and gave me 
 the money. I never delivered any myself, but I 
 know these finest pieces bring a good price, and with 
 eight of them, I'm sure to get plenty to buy all we 
 need for Cris' festa, the cheese and spaghetti, some 
 meat, maybe even a chicken, with many eggs, and of 
 course the fine oil that we love more than anything 
 else." 
 
 "What species of oil might that be, ISTuncy- 
 yawta ? " queried Ma suddenly. 
 
 " It comes in funny, square tins," Annunciata re- 
 plied, and began, in the air, marking off the imag- 
 inary height and thickness of the olive-oil can. " On 
 the side is a picture of a big tree with a stepladder, 
 and the name of the company that makes the oil. 
 I've ordered some from the nice grocery man in 
 Kington." 
 
 " I'm kinder sorry you ordered so previous," ob- 
 served Mrs. Giddings, as if to herself. " They's 
 two tins sounds exactly like that stored away in the 
 hull of the houseboat. But no matter, if it's done, 
 it's done. Here's Mis' Bekkyloni now, and I must
 
 " KIND MRS. HOPKINS " 209 
 
 give her these crabs. My! how the critters is 
 a-hissin' ! I'll be on the lookout for you girls about 
 ten to-morrow." 
 
 The two ladies, with the crabs, went back into the 
 kitchen, while Phil loitered a few precious moments 
 to go over again with her friend their arrangements 
 for meeting next morning. 
 
 After breakfast the following day, Phil, moving 
 energetically about her small room as she gathered 
 up books and strewn clothing, made frequent, almost 
 incessant dashes to the window, in order to keep a 
 sharp watch on the Bertollotti cottage. 
 
 Finally, she saw Annunciata, clothed in all of her 
 poor little " best," the orange kerchief starched and 
 ironed, and her shabby slippers blackened with soot 
 from the kitchen chimney, pass under the flower-set 
 gate and, with the blue-ribboned box held tenderly 
 close, start along Bible Koad to the sea. 
 
 Phil took good care this time to proffer her step- 
 mother a respectful and even ingratiating request for 
 permission to visit Ma Comfort. 
 
 It was granted, though accompanied by what 
 seemed to the impatient child an endless list of con- 
 ditions. She must wear her wide sunshade hat, for 
 again the weather was torrid. She must, under no 
 circumstances, run and become overheated. She 
 must not get her feet wet, and above all, she must 
 be sure to be back in the house before twelve o'clock. 
 Phil wriggled and panted to be free, but Mrs. Mer- 
 rill's slow syllables held her. 
 
 At last she was out on the road, and, immediately
 
 210 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 forgetful of injunctions, began to run like the wind. 
 
 The Italian girl must have been running too, for 
 by the time Phil had reached the Hopkins' big en- 
 trance that gave to the beach, Annunciata, already 
 within, was nearing the long, shaded verandah. 
 
 The two friends exchanged smiles and a hopeful 
 waving of hands, and then Philomel continued on to 
 the house boat. 
 
 Ma was somewhere inside. A clatter of dishes 
 told that she was employed in " redding up " her 
 small kitchen. The strains of a favorite ballad rose 
 through the air: 
 
 " Neeta, Wha-ha-ha-ha-neeta, 
 Ask thy soul if we must part. 
 Neeta-wha-ha-ha-ha-neeta, 
 Lean thou on my ha-ar-r-t! " 
 
 The word " heart " was droned as if that of the 
 singer were breaking. A pause followed. One not 
 knowing Mrs. Giddings would have listened expec- 
 tantly for an outburst of sobs and tears, but Phil re- 
 alized that, at the moment, Ma was probably smiling 
 over some tranquil thought, the woes of the sad 
 " Wha-hah-ha-neeta " being no more to that amiable 
 spirit than the death of the fish she was at present 
 making ready for dinner. 
 
 The second stanza began: 
 
 " Soft o'er the mountains, 
 Ling'rin' falls the summer moon," 
 
 Phil thrust her head under the awning. In her 
 present state of excitement, she could not possibly
 
 I 
 " KIND MRS. HOPKINS " 211 
 
 wait for the forthcoming " fountains " or the asser- 
 tion that the day had broken too soon. 
 
 " She's gone in, Ma Comfort," the visitor's thrill- 
 ing voice cried. " 'Nunciata's gone into the Hop- 
 kinses. She's up on their gallery right now ! " 
 
 " Is she so ! " answered Ma. " Well, that's fine, 
 but you needn't 'a' startled me so's I done stuck a 
 whole fish-fin through the palm of my hand. That 
 means turpentine, and an extry flavorin' for John 
 GiddinV dinner. 'Nuncy-yawter's gone right in, 
 did you say ? " 
 
 " Yes, she has ! Just as brave as a lion, and look- 
 ing so pretty ! I think she's the prettiest girl in the 
 world, anyway, don't you ? " 
 
 Ma did not answer. She had come slowly out to 
 the poop. From it she could see, just across the 
 boards of the pier, the ornate gate, with its pillars 
 of brick and of bronze grillwork, that showed where 
 the rich Hopkins family lived. She stood there so 
 motionless that two of her shadow children, the squir- 
 rels, crept up the rail to her side. 
 
 "Don't you think 'Nunciata is lovely " Phil in- 
 sisted, not so much from a desire to be agreed with 
 as because she could not keep silent during this ten- 
 sion. 
 
 Unconsciously she jumped up and down, so that 
 the two squirrels vanished. 
 
 " Yes, she's pritty, and better than pritty. 
 Nancy-yawter is good," returned Ma, her eyes on the 
 gate. " They* is times," the speaker continued, al- 
 most as if the words came of themselves, " when the
 
 212 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 dear little soul is so good, and so patient, and gentle, 
 that I feel kinder worrit-like. She's a true child o' 
 God, if ever they was one on this earth," ended Mrs. 
 Giddings with a sigh of conviction. 
 
 " I can't see why she doesn't come out with her 
 money," cried restless Phil. " What you 'spose they 
 are doing in there to 'Nunciata, to keep her so long ? " 
 
 " Child," replied Ma Comfort solemnly, " don't 
 you know yit that the richer folks is, the harder it 
 hurts them to part with their money ? " 
 
 " Oh, there she is now! There she is! " screamed 
 Phil. " Why, Ma, it looks like she's crying ! How 
 can she be crying ? I must go to her." 
 
 Phil raced up to the road, while Mrs. Giddings 
 wiped her fat hands, and climbed up to the pier by 
 the front steps. She seemed to be bigger and more 
 solid than ever. Her face, usually so kind and so 
 pink, became stern. Her mouth hardened to lines 
 that Phil had never seen there. 
 
 " If those upstarts have dared drive that child 
 off ! " she said under her breath. With the words, 
 Mrs. Giddings' well-cushioned jaw bones grew rigid. 
 
 But what else could it mean ? She stood watching 
 the two little figures that stumbled toward her. 
 Three shadow children crept out, and preened their 
 small bodies in safety. 
 
 The Italian girl was weeping aloud. Both arms 
 of the other were around her, and one childish hand 
 pressed the shining brown head down to Phil's 
 shoulder. " There, there," she was saying, exactly 
 as Ma had once soothed her, " don't you cry so hard,
 
 " KIND MRS. HOPKINS " 2ia 
 
 'Nunciata. Please don't cry so! Ma Comfort will 
 fix it all right ; you just see if she don't fix it." 
 
 " Will Ma fix it ? " said Ma to herself with a snort 
 like a war horse. " Can and will she ? Jest wait ! }> 
 
 She went forward to meet the young mourners, 
 enclosing them both in her big gentle arms. 
 
 "Oh, Ma Comfort!" sobbed Phil, "they drove- 
 'Nunciata away. They called her the horridest 
 names! They won't take the lace because she lives. 
 down next door to them ! " 
 
 " That part will be saw to a bit later," said Ma 
 grimly. " First thing now, is to git Nancy-yawter 
 down into my cabin. This way, dearie," she coaxed. 
 " Here's the top step. Ma is holdin' you tight. 
 You can't miss it," 
 
 " Set in this cheer," she continued, when the door- 
 way was passed. " Them soft cushions will be good 
 for you," and lifting the slight form as if it had been 
 Eosa Maria, she plumped it down in Pa's big, special 
 chair. 
 
 " Now, Phil," she commanded, even before 
 straightening her body, " you run out to the ice-box 
 and fetch her a glass of milk, and a couple of dough- 
 nuts. You can git some for yourself later on." 
 
 Phil obeyed with astonishing swiftness. 
 
 " There ! " said Mrs. Giddings, standing erect. 
 " Set them near on the table. She can't swallow 
 jest yit, the poor darlin', but as soon as them heart- 
 renderin' sobs starts to stop, you can jest force her to 
 eat, little gran'darter. There ain't no form of mis- 
 ery so bad that a good bite of eatin' won't help ik
 
 214 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 As for me" she broke out, both her shoulders thrown 
 back, and her whole figure bristling with excitement, 
 " they is fireworks for me in the offin' ! Where's 
 them felays, the box full of them, and the letter ? " 
 
 " She tore my dear Sister Agatha Mary's letter," 
 wailed Annunciata, sobbing afresh. " She called 
 her a snivellin' old Nun, and she called me, oh, 
 the terrible, terrible lady, and I thought she was 
 good and kind ! " 
 
 " You saved them torn scraps of the letter ? " de- 
 manded Mrs. Giddings quickly. 
 
 " Yes, here in my breast," said the girl, beginning 
 to search for them. "It's in only one tear, right 
 across. Oh, how could she be so cruel ? " 
 
 " It's money that's softened her head, and hard- 
 ened her heart," asserted Ma Comfort. " It 'most 
 always acts that way on idjits. That's where Amer- 
 ica's snob factory comes in." 
 
 In speaking, Mrs. Giddings had been looking down 
 at her own hands which, having taken the torn let- 
 ter, were now fitting the two parts together. She 
 nodded, well pleased. " Yes, I'm right glad it's 
 tore," she murmured as if to herself, " I don't want 
 no better legal ev'dence. But here, let me git busy, 
 let me git to that woman 'fore I bust, like that fish 
 Simon Peter onst caught on a Sunday. You two 
 girls jest stay quiet in the cabin. I don't aim to be 
 away long." 
 
 Phil and Annunciata clung fearfully together as 
 Ma's massive stride, sounding like that of a camel, 
 made the pier and the houseboat, even to the glasses
 
 " KIND MRS. HOPKINS " 215 
 
 of milk on the table, shiver and shake, as if in an 
 earthquake. 
 
 " Oh, Pheel ! " cried the Italian girl, cowering. 
 " Oh, Mater Dolorosa! What will the good lady do 
 now ? Did she take a knife with her ? " 
 
 " No, you goose ! " bantered Phil. " Ma Comfort 
 don't have to go round sticking knives into people, 
 like Dagoes. She don't need any knife. She'll 
 just talk/' 
 
 This statement proved to be absolutely true. Ma 
 had taken no weapon but speech, and had required 
 no other. What went on that midsummer morning 
 in the shade of the Hopkins' verandah was never en- 
 tirely to be known. 
 
 That Mrs. Giddings emerged as a victor was cer- 
 tain ; and equally sure, as might have been proved 
 by more than one grinning servant, the furious 
 and chastened Mrs. Hopkins, rushing up to her bed- 
 chamber, had locked herself in, refusing admission 
 even to the trained nurse, Miss McCracken. 
 
 In an incredibly short time Ma was on her way 
 home. Now she moved less like a camel than a 
 brigadier general at the head of invisible armies. A 
 sort of rosy mist, as of triumph, seemed to move with 
 her. The brown eyes were hard, bright, and keen. 
 
 " Cheat that child ! Refuse her the money she 
 got up at daybreak to work for," snorted Ma. " Well, 
 not much! Not so long's Comfort Giddin's' got a 
 tongue in her head and the power of usin' it. And 
 with this letter too," she went on, as if to the air, 
 waving Sister Agatha Mary's rejected epistle like a
 
 216 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 banner. " No plainer business contract ever was 
 wrote than this letter. That drawlin' huzzy, Mis' 
 Hopkins, she knew that I meant it when I said me 
 and John would have the law on her for Nuncy- 
 yawter. That skeered her, but it ain't that what 
 turned the trick! No," Ma exulted, a sly smile 
 softening her lips. " It was when I purtended to be 
 turnin' away, and said, casual-like, ' Very well, Mrs. 
 J. Huntin'ton Hopkins, they is plenty of other big 
 houses round. All them ladies wants lace like this 
 kind, for I've seen it in their curtains and table- 
 cloths. I'll peddle Hope Bay Shore end to end, till 
 I sells it,' I sez to Mis' Hopkins. l I'll peddle jest 
 like your man's gran'pa onst peddled.' All I needed 
 was pintin'," chuckled Ma, " and down she fell flat, 
 like Dave Crockett's coon! 
 
 " Lord ! what cowards them rich people is," moral- 
 ized the good woman, her anger beginning to wane. 
 " Allays pushin' and climbin' to git somewhar they 
 ain't wanted, never satisfied with what they is got, 
 and so turrible skeered that the ones higher up 
 will find out whar they comes from. Lord, Lord," 
 she said fervently, and unwittingly mopped her damp 
 brow on a handful of greenbacks, " I wouldn't swap 
 old John Giddin's and our wee green an' white nest 
 of a home for all of this glitterin' pile of new 
 1 Towers ' an' l Castles ' heaped up high as the 
 moon." 
 
 The two girls, hearing Ma coming, ran out to the 
 door. She waved them back, panting. " There, 
 there, don't climb up. I'm comin' as fast as I can.
 
 " KIND MRS. HOPKINS " 217 
 
 My head is that hot you could fry an egg in the 
 partin'." 
 
 On reaching the cabin, Mrs. Giddings' first words 
 were, " Now, now, Nuncy-yawter, you shirked 
 drinkin' that good milk, and eatin' Ma's doughnuts, 
 like I told you." 
 
 " I couldn't make out to swallow, dear Mis' Com- 
 fort," defended the Italian. "But I'll try now if 
 you want me," she added, with a smile that was like 
 clear moonlight over the rim of a driving black 
 cloud. 
 
 " Jest a minute," Ma cried, laughing. " When 
 you see what I've brought you, they won't be no need 
 for coaxin'. Set there by the table, so's I can lay 
 the lot down to it. Five ten fifteen," exulted 
 the conqueror, and with each word she slapped 
 fiercely down another bill. " Twenty twenty-five, 
 ten more, and a lonesome, young one-dollar bill, what 
 makes thirty-six dollars in all ! " 
 
 Annunciata's eyelids drooped, and for a moment 
 it appeared as though she were going to faint. Ma 
 hurried around the table and drew the girl close to 
 her breast, for support. 
 
 "Oh, Madonna Mia! dear Blessed Virgin! Did 
 I dream it ? " Annunciata whispered. 
 
 " Well it's yourn, every penny, and you is goin* 
 to spend it exactly as the notion takes you to spend 
 it. Git more milk, a whole pitcherful, dearie," this 
 to Phil. " And the doughnuts ? Yes, all you can 
 spy. This is an American festa to celebrate Nuncy- 
 yawter's vic'try. We'll drink milk till we all wants
 
 218 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 to moo, and eat crullers till, why, here's Laddie- 
 dog, jest in time ! Yes, good doggy, don't tear down 
 the ceilin' ; you'll git yours right enough." 
 
 " But Pa, where's my Pa Comfort ? " now cried 
 Phil, as she walked in, carefully bearing the brim- 
 ming pitcher. " If Laddie's here, that means Uncle 
 John's in the oyster house." 
 
 She ran out to the front-deck " piazza," her eyes 
 roving the pier. " Oh, Pa Giddings Uncle 
 John," she called clearly. " We are having a festa, 
 and we can't go on without you. Please come in." 
 
 Ma followed as far as the doorway, and stood 
 there, her face flushed and twitching. 
 
 " And to think it was me, after all of my thanks- 
 givin' for John jest a minute ago, what had to be 
 reminded by a child that he hadn't been bid to our 
 party ! " 
 
 " John, John Giddin's ! " she cried, lifting her 
 voice far above that of Phil. " You come right in 
 here. We's startin' a picnic." 
 
 Pa emerged from the oyster house, smiling and 
 wiping his hands on his overalls. 
 
 Ma's answering smile seemed to run out to meet 
 him. " The Lord bless his bones," she whispered 
 under her breath. " Does I love that old man in 
 blue jeans, does I ? Well," ended Ma in a great 
 sigh of contentment, " if I don't, I deserve to be 
 classed for poorness of sperrit with old Rebecca and 
 Mis' Hopkins."
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 PHIL'S PUNISHMENT BEGINS 
 
 ONLY two more days to the festa! Safe in 
 the upper division of the Bertollotti cup- 
 board, well out of reach of fat Hugo and Rosa Maria, 
 were the oil and the eggs, and other delectable viands. 
 A letter from Cris had given the joyful assurance 
 that he would be with them all day long. In that 
 letter was something else, too, another great secret 
 so wonderful, so ecstatic, that Annunciata's eyes had 
 brimmed over as she whispered it to Phil. 
 
 In a very short time the sick father could be 
 moved. Annunciata, being rich now, was to hire a 
 motor, with Cris, of course, making all of the ar- 
 rangements, and bring Padre back to his home. 
 Even Mrs. Bertollotti was not to be told. It was 
 being saved as a glorious surprise. 
 
 The one disappointment, the one cloud on their 
 bright outlook, was that the " surprise " could not 
 come on Cristofo's birthday. But this the hospital 
 doctor had forbidden. For a full week after the 
 moving, he had said, " Mr. Bertollotti must be kept 
 very quiet. He had had a long and very serious 
 illness, and too much excitement all at once might 
 have unfortunate consequences."
 
 220 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 In spite of this shadow, the small house in Bible 
 Road was, on that radiant July morning, a center of 
 happy expectancy. 
 
 At the Merrill's next door, a very different at- 
 mosphere prevailed. Edgar, at breakfast, had de- 
 clared that he felt " awful sick." The word " sick- 
 ness " in connection with her idolized boy was more 
 than enough to throw Mrs. Merrill into a state of 
 nervous anxiety. 
 
 Phil's one thought as usual, and to-day a good 
 deal more than usual, was to scramble through her 
 small tasks, and get away from it all as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 She found Mrs. Merrill in the kitchen, preparing 
 some arrow-root, sugar, and cinnamon, in the hope 
 of tempting Edgar to eat. 
 
 Phil's request was worded carefully and in her 
 very best manner, but the stepmother, impatiently 
 waiting until it was through, said, " No, my dear, 
 not this morning. I am sorry, but for the present, 
 your visits to old Mrs. Giddings must cease." 
 
 The child sprang closer, and looked fixedly up 
 into the other's worried face. " What ! Stop going 
 any time to Ma Comfort's ! Stop seeing my Laddie 
 at all ? Oh, Mother, you can't mean it ! " 
 
 Mrs. Merrill pushed the aluminum double boiler 
 to the back of the range, and turning, faced her step- 
 daughter squarely. 
 
 " Take that chair, Philomel," she said, pointing. 
 " And I'll draw up the other. I'm glad enough to 
 sit for a moment. Now I want to speak to you sens-
 
 PHIL'S PUNISHMENT BEGINS 221 
 
 ibly, like the big girl you're growing to be, and I 
 expect you to listen and to pay attention to what I 
 am saying. May I count on your doing so ? " 
 
 Phil, mumbling something rebellious, threw her- 
 self at a slant across the hard kitchen chair. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill's lips tightened, but she thought it 
 best to ignore these small signs of revolt. " You 
 have heard me speak lately," she began, " of a fright- 
 ful disease, a child's disease that is raging in all 
 the big cities ? " 
 
 "Yes'm, yes, Mother," said Phil rather proud 
 of airing her knowledge. " It's Lassertood." 
 
 Mrs. Merrill smiled sadly. " I only wish that it 
 were. No, this is called Infantile Paralysis. Chil- 
 dren by hundreds are dying each day with it. And 
 and death is not always the worst," the speaker 
 went on, her face drained now of its last fleck of 
 color. " It's so dreadful I can't think of the thing 
 without shuddering. Even when children get well, 
 they are often left crippled and helpless and idiots. 
 Where's Edgar, Rebecca," she called sharply, as the 
 old woman entered with a large tray of breakfast 
 dishes, most of them untouched. 
 
 " He's jest gone upstairs for his jacks," said Re- 
 becca, wiping off the kitchen table. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill leaned back with a sigh. " I am 
 wretched the minute that child's from my sight." 
 
 " But, Mother," said Phil, " I don't see what an 
 infant paralyzing in the cities has got to do with 
 Ma Comfort and Laddie." 
 
 " Just this much," explained the stepmother. " It
 
 222 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 is known to be infectious; that means that people 
 can carry the germs about with them. No one 
 knows yet just how, only that they are carried. A 
 lot of unclean Italians, like those creatures next 
 door, are always the first to start it." 
 
 " I don't see how ! " muttered Phil angrily. 
 
 "Well, I do," returned Mrs. Merrill. "They 
 have a boy, I am told, who comes every Saturday 
 from the city, and Mrs. Giddings has been seen more 
 than once going in and out of the hovel. It is be- 
 cause of those visits of hers that I am forbidding 
 you to go near her. I can't run any risks, not 
 with Edgar, with either of you children in my 
 care." 
 
 Phil's golden head went down to the table. " I 
 can't go to Ma Comfort. I can't see my Laddie. I 
 can't go anywhere ! " she said, as if to herself. In 
 her voice was such desolate misery that Mrs. Mer- 
 rill was softened. 
 
 " I'm sorry," said the stepmother once more. 
 " But I consider it a necessary precaution. It may 
 be only for a short time, and at home you have your 
 little brother to play with, not to mention the or- 
 chard." 
 
 At the magic word " orchard," Phil's head lifted, 
 and her face cleared. True enough, she still had 
 the orchard, and, blessed fact, it was one of the 
 many places where Edgar had been forbidden to 
 follow. At the edge of it lay St. Cristofo's Ferry, 
 and once over that ! 
 
 " All right, Mother," she cried, " I won't beg any
 
 PHIL'S PUNISHMENT BEGINS 223 
 
 more for the beach, and I'll try not to be sulky. 
 When I make up my bed, can I go to the orchard for 
 as long as I want to ? " 
 
 " Why, surely you may," smiled Mrs. Merrill. 
 " And I'm proud of my little daughter. Here, stop, 
 give mother a kiss." 
 
 Phil leaned down very unwillingly, and after the 
 peck on her cheek, she darted upstairs. The kiss 
 seemed to burn her, and she rubbed at it viciously. 
 Her heart felt like a pincushion of old rusty lies, 
 and each one of them was festering. 
 
 " I must help the Bertollottis make cake," she 
 said angrily, though under her breath. " Anyhow, 
 it's only my stepmother ; she's not real like the Madre. 
 And she hasn't got any business trying to keep me 
 away from all of my friends. Annunciata expects 
 me to help her with that festa." 
 
 She was talking against her own conscience, and 
 she knew it. She felt hot and cold and bitter and 
 triumphant all at the same time. Still muttering 
 her arguments, she threw open her door. There was 
 a queer feeling in the room that told her something 
 was wrong. Her eyes flew to her picture, the bright 
 colored handkerchief box, from which smiled a face 
 so like to that of the lovely Annunciata. 
 
 There was indeed something terribly wrong. For 
 a moment Phil stood like a stone, her horrified gaze 
 fixed upon the wreck. Then with a cry she ran to 
 the dresser. 
 
 Both eyes of the picture had been thrust through 
 with a blunt pencil. Over the sweet, curving lips,
 
 224 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 grew a pair of black, bristling moustachios. A beard 
 had been started, but the artist had evidently 
 wearied, and left one side of the chin unhurt. Just 
 beneath the picture was written in childish, block 
 letters : 
 
 " Old Phil Merrill, she's a Wop, 
 When she sees this, she will pop." 
 
 Phil broke into furious tears. Catching up her 
 spoiled treasure, she bolted down the two flights of 
 stairs to the dining room. " Oh, Mother oh, 
 Mother ! " she sobbed, holding it forward, " see what 
 Edgar has done to my picture ! " 
 
 Mrs. Merrill looked up from her sewing. Un- 
 fortunately, at sight of the ludicrous object, her lips 
 twitched. The smile was a goad to Phil's frenzy. 
 At the same instant, she saw crouching down, behind 
 the cover of his mother's chair, the jeering, out- 
 thrust face of her stepbrother. 
 
 Phil tried to throw herself upon him. " I'll kill 
 you ! " she stormed. " I'll punch both your eyes 
 out ! just let me get at you " 
 
 Mrs. Merrill sprang up, clasping her arms around 
 the furious girl. " Stop, you crazy child ! Have 
 you lost all your senses ! Edgar, run run for 
 your life! Rebecca," the stepmother screamed, 
 " come get Edgar and take him to the kitchen with 
 you. This creature is possessed. She fights like a 
 wildcat ! " 
 
 " Just let me get my hands on him ! " raved Phil. 
 She wrenched herself violently free, and flew toward
 
 PHIL'S PUNISHMENT BEGINS 225 
 
 the pantry. The key had been deftly turned, and 
 Edgar was safe on the other side of the panel. 
 
 Phil now ran around to the front. " Lock both 
 kitchen doors, Kebecca," she heard her stepmother 
 cry, as if in a panic of fear. " She will probably 
 come back this way again. What temper! What 
 terrible fury! I am shaking like a leaf after it. 
 The child looks like a demon, Roger's child ! " 
 
 The gingham-clad demon, still sobbing aloud, 
 turned her back on the house, and went at a spurt 
 through the orchard. There was no stopping her 
 now, and over she went, across the ferry, and along 
 the flat paths of gay flowers that were bordering veg- 
 etables. Three of the children, Tonio, Jo and Lucia, 
 were on their knees weeding cabbages. With a single 
 cry of amazement, they rose and followed Phil into 
 the house. 
 
 She reached the back room. It was empty. At 
 the door of the " parlor " she stopped short, for what 
 she saw there had checked her as suddenly as though 
 she had come against a door of clear glass. 
 
 On the floor by the opened lower cupboard sat 
 Rosa Maria. Far and wide were scattered white egg 
 shells. Crowing, giggling with rapture, Rosa Maria 
 broke a fresh one on the top of her dark, curly head, 
 and laughed out as the yellow yolk slid down over 
 one eye to her cheek. 
 
 Mrs. Bertollotti and Annunciata, just within the 
 door, stood speechless, the four hands upraised, as 
 they witnessed this wreck of their festa. 
 
 The precious tin of fine oil, overturned, was glid-
 
 226 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 ing out across the floor in yellow-green serpents. 
 The baby's teeth gleamed. Through the streaks of 
 the eggs, Eosa Maria showed her dimples. 
 
 " Google-goo," the infant remarked, as she cracked 
 the egg on her forelock. 
 
 Philomel wrenched her fascinated gaze away, in 
 order to stare wonderingly at the others, at the 
 Madre and the Big Sister, whose long work for Cris- 
 tofo's birthday lay in ruins. 
 
 What on earth were they to do with Eosa Maria ? 
 Would they beat her, as she, Phil, would have en- 
 joyed beating Edgar ? 
 
 Annunciata, recovering her power of motion, 
 started forward. Phil gasped. J^o matter what 
 Eosa Maria deserved, Phil was ready to do battle 
 for her. 
 
 " Oh, don't spank her hard! 'Nunciata," she 
 pleaded. 
 
 " Spank her ! " repeated the sister in surprise. 
 " Of course, nobody's going to spank her, the 
 blessed, sweet angel! Did you ever see anything 
 cuter? It was all my fault for taking the things 
 down too soon, and leaving them, even for a minute." 
 
 Tonio, Jo, and Lucia crowded in. They too began 
 laughing. 
 
 " Gee ! " cried Tonio. " Eosa Maria's a chunk of 
 honey, all right! Ain't she, Madre? Jes' catch 
 onto dat grin thru' de om'lett ! " 
 
 In response, Eosa Maria coyly tossed him an egg. 
 
 Annunciata stooped now, and lifted the adorable, 
 small sinner. Long strings of egg and of oil came
 
 PHIL'S PUNISHMENT BEGINS 227 
 
 up with her, dangling down like the tentacles of a 
 huge jellyfish, while roars of Italian merriment 
 greeted the sight. 
 
 Phil, too, began to laugh, but her amusement 
 proved brief. 
 
 Her mouth closed. " Oh, what's that ? " she de- 
 manded, bending and listening. " It's Rebecca ! 
 Rebecca's been sent after me. Oh, children, don't 
 let her catch me here. Where can I hide 2 " 
 
 " Nix on de hidin'," growled Tonio. " She won't 
 follow you in here de old Madame Cat." 
 
 " But she might. I must hide! " said the terrified 
 Phil. " Oh, 'Nunciata, you must help me." 
 
 The Italian girl lifted the hand Philomel had 
 placed on her arm, and put it aside. The motion 
 was gentle, but a look Phil never had seen now 
 clouded her lovely eyes. 
 
 " You might go to the cave, until Rebecca has 
 passed," she said quietly. " I didn't know, Pheel, 
 you'd been told not to come here, all this time " 
 
 Again came Rebecca's harsh voice, " Phil'mel, you 
 Phil Merrill. Where're you hidin' ? Your Maw 
 says to come here this minute." 
 
 "Yes, I'll go to the cave," panted Phil, darting 
 into the kitchen. " When she's gone, I can crawl 
 through the orchard without anybody seeing me." 
 
 With back bent, crouching down in the rows of 
 green vegetables, knowing herself to be not only a 
 liar but a coward, Phil slipped out stealthily toward 
 the cave. 
 
 She had nearly reached it, when from the air as it
 
 228 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 seemed, directly over her head, a clear voice of tri- 
 umph was heard. " I've caught you this time ! I 
 saw you come out of the beggars' house, Phil Mer- 
 rill. I thought you never went there ? " 
 
 Phil threw her head back. Neither pride nor de- 
 fiance was left to her. " I don't ; that is, I'm for- 
 bidden to go, but I do. Oh, Constantia," she 
 pleaded, " don't tell on me, please." 
 
 " If I promise I won't," bartered Constantia, 
 " will you come over to my house and play as long 
 as I want you ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," grovelled Phil. " I want to come to 
 see you. I'll ask my stepmother to let me, the min- 
 ute I get home." 
 
 " What you doing now, acting so funny ? " de- 
 manded the tyrant. 
 
 " I'm hiding from Rebecca ; she's after me. I 
 must go into the cave." 
 
 " It's a lot nicer up on this bank," suggested the 
 other. " The water from our pond is just rushing 
 down over the dam. I've a great mind to try to pull 
 one of the sticks out, to see if it won't run faster." 
 
 " Don't you do- it ! " shrieked Phil. " Not while 
 I'm here in the cave. You wait till I get out." 
 
 She cowered within. The place was all dim, red, 
 and wet. One side of it leaked with a slow, steady 
 dripping. On the bank, just a few feet away, she 
 could hear the escape from the pond overhead rush 
 and gurgle. She thought of Undine and Kuhleborn. 
 Surely, in the sound of this water was the laughter 
 of something malignant.
 
 PHIL'S PUNISHMENT BEGINS 229 
 
 From far down the road, Rebecca was still calling, 
 " Phil Merrill, you Phil'mel. Your Maw wants 
 you. T'ain't no use your hidin' like that. You 
 come on to your house, or you'll catch it ! "
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 THE DAItKEST HOUR 
 
 PHIL remained in the dank, soggy cave until all 
 external sounds had quite faded, then creeping 
 out, she looked first up to the bank, and afterward 
 into the Bertollotti garden. 
 
 Constantia was gone, but on their knees by the 
 cabbage bed again knelt the three black-headed chil- 
 dren, just as if Phil's last dreadful ten minutes had 
 never occurred. 
 
 Not daring to call out, or to give a sign of her 
 presence, the unhappy child made her way through 
 the marsh, and finally into the orchard. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill was standing on the front piazza, 
 evidently watching, for, with her eyes shaded by 
 one hand, she stared down Bible Eoad. Rebecca 
 approached, and as the two women exchanged 
 glances, the old servant shook her bare head, in order 
 to show that her quest had been useless. 
 
 Phil, cowering close to the house wall, shut both 
 eyes tight and clenched her fists fiercely in an effort 
 to arouse her much needed courage. 
 
 A sudden cry from the keen-sighted Rebecca told 
 with dreadful certainty that Phil, in her hiding place, 
 was discovered. The culprit, realizing the futility 
 of further concealment, stepped out and around to
 
 THE DARKEST HOUR 231 
 
 the front with all of the bravery and defiance she 
 could muster. 
 
 " Come here to me, Philomel," said the step- 
 mother quietly. " You are to go at once to your 
 room and remain there until I give you permission to 
 leave it. Such a dreadful display of anger, not to 
 mention your attempts to hurt Edgar, can not go un- 
 punished." 
 
 "The festal 19 thought Phil instantly, and her 
 heart seemed to turn over and stop. " If she keeps 
 me locked up there all day, I can't help 'Nunciata 
 get ready for Cristofo's birthday party. And if I 
 don't go after promising, some of them might even 
 come here to my house, and ask what was the reason." 1 
 Clearly this was an emergency in which any weapon 
 at hand must be used. 
 
 "But, but, Mother!" Phil stammered. "I'm 
 sorry I was so naughty. I'll beg Edgar's pardon 
 I'll do anything! Don't shut me up now! I've 
 been talking to Constantia Hopkins. She's the 
 sweetest little girl you ever saw. I told her I'd 
 come to her house right away, as soon as I'd asked 
 you. Her mother just begged me. She said to ask 
 you might I come." 
 
 The stepmother hesitated, at which Phil's sick 
 heart gave a bound. Mrs. Merrill had long wished 
 to " get in " with the exclusive Hopkins set, but now 
 her sense of right proved stronger than this latent 
 snobbery. 
 
 " No, Philomel, you cannot go now. Perhaps 
 later on when you are really repentant."
 
 232 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " But I'm really repentant this minute ! " insisted 
 Phil with passionate fervor. " I'm nearly dead with 
 repentance. I won't ever " 
 
 " You heard what I said," repeated the stepmother 
 sharply. " March straight up to your room." 
 
 The child, literally shivering with disappointment 
 and fury, stumbled indoors. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill watched her intently, then with a 
 few hurried strides caught up with the wavering 
 figure, and clasped Phil's arm securely. 
 
 " On second thought, I'll go up with you, and see 
 that you are safely locked in. Perhaps I'd better 
 not trust you in the house by yourself, as I don't 
 know where your brother may be." 
 
 As the dual ascent began, the big house seemed 
 curiously silent. 
 
 Then, from overhead on the second flight up, there 
 came sounds of a strange sort of thumping. It was 
 like an object being dragged step by step, down the 
 stairs. Thump thump followed thump. Then 
 Edgar's thin voice was heard, saying gaily, " Get up, 
 dog, get up quick. I'll beat you hard with my whip, 
 if you don't come along faster. Get up, Lad- 
 die!" 
 
 " It's my dog ! Edgar's found him. It's my Lad- 
 die ! " shrieked Phil. " You let my dog alone, Ed- 
 gar Merrill ! " 
 
 Edgar's answering laugh rose the higher. " Get 
 up, you old dog. Get up, you old statue," he re- 
 peated. 
 
 A crash echoed through the house, and great pieces
 
 THE DARKEST HOUR 233 
 
 of plaster, hurling down to the hallway, lay in heaps, 
 while a whitish-pink dust filled the air. 
 
 With the cry of a creature demented, Phil fought 
 herself free, and sprang upward. 
 
 Edgar stood peering down over the banisters. 
 From his hand still dangled the string by which he 
 had been hauling the statue. 
 
 At the sight of his sister's ashen face and wild eyes, 
 he cringed back to the wall, crying, " Mommer, oh 
 Mommer ! " 
 
 " I'll show you ! " gasped Phil, quite delirious 
 with anger. " I'll teach you to go to my room, root- 
 ing through all my things, stealing them. I'll kill 
 you this time, before your mother can stop me. 
 Take that ! " 
 
 At the first frantic blow, Edgar stopped screaming. 
 He went sidewise, and began to fall, thump after 
 thump, as the image had done. 
 
 On the landing he lay very still. Phil saw his 
 mother bend over him, then she, too, crumpled up and 
 lay motionless. 
 
 Phil waited no longer. She sped up to her room, 
 and having presence of mind enough left to remember 
 the key, took it with trembling hands from the out- 
 side of the door, and turned it inside. 
 
 For a long while she lay crouched and shivering 
 close to the doorsill, but no footsteps mounted the 
 stairs. Later, about supper time, Rebecca rapped 
 sharply, saying she had brought up some milk and 
 bread, but the child did not dare turn the protective 
 key.
 
 234 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 On the next morning, the actual feast day of St. 
 Cristofo, Phil awoke, faint and dizzy from hunger. 
 She waited until she heard Eebecca go down both 
 flights of steps, and then, cautiously unlocking the 
 door, looked about for the tray. It was still there. 
 The milk had soured into clabber, but Phil ate it, 
 and munched her dry bread. 
 
 The light, giddy feeling in her head began to pass. 
 She went over to the window, and had the added 
 wretchedness of seeing tall Cris arrive. 
 
 For an instant, she wondered what had been done 
 to replace the fine oil and the eggs Eosa Maria had 
 wasted; then she thought of the Giddings' fat hens, 
 and of Ma's murmured speech, " I'm sort of sorry 
 you ordered so previous." 
 
 There were two of the funny flat oil-tins in the 
 house boat, or, at least there had been. Phil knew 
 well enough where they were now. Ma and Pa Gid- 
 dings were both to go to the festa. What laughter 
 would ripple, what jokes would be told; how all the 
 faces would shine and look happy, while she, 
 wretched prisoner, must be locked in alone ! 
 
 By noon Phil was again dreadfully hungry. As 
 she heard Rebecca's slow feet on the stairs, the child 
 gave a sigh of utter abandonment and, walking up 
 to the door, turned the key. 
 
 In the opening, Rebecca waved her tray from side 
 to side. " You stay where you are," she commanded. 
 " You're not to go from this room for a while yet." 
 
 " I don't care. I don't want to go," returned Phil. 
 " But, oh, Rebecca, please tell me, please tell me
 
 Phil crouched to the crack of the door. Page 235.
 
 THE DARKEST HOUR 285 
 
 this, did I kill Edgar when I pushed him down- 
 stairs ? " 
 
 At first it would seem that Kebecca did not intend 
 to reply. She locked the door carefully, strode over 
 to the dresser, and setting down the tray with a bang, 
 scowled at Phil's small colorless face, and snapped 
 out, " No, he ain't, though you done all in your 
 power to kill him. He's in his bed yet, and the doc- 
 tor's here with him." 
 
 She swept out, banging and locking the door. 
 
 But Phil did not care. Her hideous nightmare of 
 murder was ended. She would be able to sleep 
 through the night without those dreadful waking-up 
 spells of sheer horror. 
 
 Next morning, brighter eyes were raised to Ke- 
 becca. The eager question rang out, " How is Ed- 
 gar ? Oh, I do hope he is better ! " 
 
 No answer was made. Now Phil saw that the old 
 servant's face, always hard, seemed chiselled from 
 granite. Her weak eyes were half closed, and had 
 horrible puffs of dark pink around them. 
 
 " Is he worse ? Oh, I know he's lots worse," cried 
 the child, beginning to tremble. 
 
 In grim silence, Rebecca set the pitcher and glass 
 and the plate of bread from the tray upon the bureau, 
 and when she had finished went out. 
 
 Phil crouched to the crack of the door. The still- 
 ness and the solitude were becoming unbearable. At 
 last a sound was heard, the escaping of steam in a 
 motor-car, that had stopped in the road. 
 
 That meant Doctor Evans again. Edgar must be
 
 236 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 very ill to have the doctor so often. He remained for 
 what seemed an eternity to the watcher in the attic. 
 Then she heard him cranking his engine. 
 
 Phil leaned far from the window. She was pray- 
 ing, under her breath, that he would go Bible Road, 
 so at least she could see him. 
 
 The wish was soon granted, for the old battered 
 car came in sight, puffing loudly. It was headed 
 straight toward the sea, toward Ma Giddings and 
 Laddie. Phil's eyes filled with tears, but they dried 
 in a new thrill of excitement as she saw Doctor Evans 
 stop in front of the Bertollottis and go in. 
 
 What did it mean ? Annunciata had told her that 
 Italian children were never sick. They were always 
 too busy and happy for illness. The father had not 
 arrived yet, that was certain. 
 
 Like the echo of cruel laughter in the pond's out- 
 let, came the words " Infantile Paralysis." Phil 
 cowered and moaned. " Oh, not that ! My little 
 Rosa Maria can't have that ! " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Phil to herself, as a brighter 
 thought touched her, "it's only that some of the 
 children ate too much festa. Hugo was certain to 
 stuff." This view of the situation comforted her 
 greatly. 
 
 The day dragged along. The red sun was low. 
 His crimson beams shot past the Merrill house, strik- 
 ing clear on the flower-wreathed chimney of the 
 Italians. 
 
 Again Doctor Evans' car stopped at Phil's home. 
 This time he remained but a very few minutes, and
 
 THE DARKEST HOUR 237 
 
 after leaving, turned around and went into Kington, 
 and not to the Bertollottis at all. 
 
 Phil felt more and more comforted. She could 
 not persuade herself that there was anything alarm- 
 ing in Edgar's being in bed. He was so often whin- 
 ing and complaining, and he always got well. 
 
 But the happy Italians! Those brown, dancing 
 motes in the sunshine! To imagine them sick was 
 as difficult as to think of the stiff old Rebecca in a 
 game of hopscotch. Phil felt that she really could 
 not bear it if the Bertollottis had " started " the 
 dreadful disease of which her stepmother had spoken. 
 
 She was nervous and restless. She watched the 
 garden next door, but no one appeared. Finally, go- 
 ing to her books, and selecting as a suitable one the 
 story of an imprisoned princess in a tower, Phil was 
 soon deep in her reading. 
 
 A sound on the stairs drew her attention. There 
 were steps coming up, not Rebecca's ; they were too 
 dragging and feeble for that. Besides, it was not 
 near time for her bread and milk supper. Who 
 could it possibly be? 
 
 Phil sprang up, and her book fell to the floor. 
 The key was fitted into the lock. The person who 
 turned it must be old or feeble, for the key trembled 
 so nervously. The girl ran to the knob, shaking it. 
 The door flew apart, and Mrs. Merrill came in. 
 
 At the first sight of her stepmother's face, Phil 
 drew back. " Oh, Mother oh, Mother ! " she ex- 
 claimed. " What is it ? What has happened 2 Is 
 Edgar"
 
 238 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Don't don't ! " cried the stepmother. " Wait. 
 Don't speak. I will tell you " 
 
 She swerved across the small room to a chair, and, 
 sat down heavily. Her skin was the color of old 
 wax. Her glittering eyes were sunken deep in great 
 cups of blue-black shadow. Phil, staring and shiv- 
 ering, stood in front of her. 
 
 " I must ask you, I must be certain/' began Mrs. 
 Merrill, her words sounding strange and unnatural, 
 as they were forced through the rigid lips. " How 
 came you by that statue of your dog? Who made 
 it?" 
 
 " Cris," Philomel answered quickly. " He's an 
 artist. I asked him and he made it." 
 
 " Is he one of the beggars next door ? " 
 
 Phil lifted her head to retort, but the look in her 
 stepmother's eyes checked defiance. " He is one of 
 the Italians," she replied. " The biggest one. He 
 works in the city." 
 
 " How has it happened that you know him well 
 enough to make such a request, and for him to give 
 you the statue ? " 
 
 Phil hung her head in shamed silence. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill's hard, self-controlled voice hurried 
 on. " Did I not give you the most definite orders 
 never to play with those children? Never to put 
 your foot near them." 
 
 " Nome, you didn't," Phil asserted with her last 
 feeble spark of courage. " You just said I was never 
 to put my foot into their hovel." 
 
 " That is merely a contemptible quibble, and you
 
 THE DARKEST HOUR 239 
 
 know it," said the mother. " But granting it so, 
 have you obeyed me, even in this ? " 
 
 Again Phil's head went down. She hid her face 
 in a bent elbow, and began to cry. 
 
 " Tears won't help now," said the stepmother 
 drearily. " Yon have lied and deceived me for 
 months, and your punishment is a heavy one, but 
 oh, God ! " she broke out in a quiver of anguish, 
 " why should punishment fall on me and mine too ? " 
 
 " What what do you mean, Mother ? What 
 punishment ? " The frightened child demanded. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill rose and went toward the door. 
 " Simply this, three of those wretched Italians are 
 sick ; the doctor fears it is infantile paralysis. And 
 Edgar your brother shows the same symptoms. 
 It is this that your wickedness has done." 
 
 She slipped through the door, as if not trusting 
 herself to more words. The key turned and clicked. 
 
 Phil sprang after her, crying out, " Mother, oh, 
 Mother ! I'm sorry. Oh, don't lock me in. I can't 
 bear it!" 
 
 But the door was shut tight. Phil beat on the 
 wood with her fists. " Let me out ! Let me out ! " 
 she screamed shrilly. " I don't b'leeve what you 
 said. You're just trying to scare me. I don't 
 b'leeve Eosa Maria and Hugo's got 'fantile paralysis. 
 God and Jesus and the Blessed Virgin wouldn't let 
 them. I don't b'leeve Edgar's got it. He's play- 
 ing possum just to scare me. Let me out ! Let me 
 out ! I must see ! " 
 
 Eebecca raced frantically up the stairs. "You
 
 240 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 stop that dog-howlin' this minute," she cried fiercely, 
 through the door. " Edgar's yellin' his head off. 
 He'll die on us 'fore we can git the doctor here, if 
 you don't hush." 
 
 Phil sank to the floor. She made no appeal to 
 Rebecca, knowing it useless. She sobbed quietly 
 now, and when the black images crowded nearer, she 
 put both of her hands tightly to her lips, to keep 
 back the cries that struggled for utterance. Her 
 tortured mind, beating about for a gleam of com- 
 fort, caught the clue of the Little Lamb song, which 
 in a dark hour before had escaped her. The two 
 " saddest verses of all " came to her now with won- 
 derful clearness. 
 
 " Rest for the Lamb of God 
 Up to the hill-top green, 
 Only a cross of shame 
 
 Two stark crosses between. 
 
 All in the April evening, 
 
 April airs were abroad; 
 I saw the sheep with their lambs, 
 
 And thought on the Lamb of God." 
 
 " Oh, dear Lamb of God," the beaten child whis- 
 pered, " help me now. Oh, I'm so sorry. Let me 
 have the sickness and not Edgar, not my brother, 
 or the happy people next door. I don't care what 
 you do to me, Lamb of God, only keep the awful 
 something away from my brother and the Bertol- 
 lottis." 
 
 Night came slowly in, but no supper. Phil be-
 
 THE DARKEST HOUR 241 
 
 lieved, and cared not at all, that the next step in 
 her punishment was to be complete starvation. 
 
 " I couldn't eat a thing, even if Rebecca had 
 brought it," the wretched child thought. " I don't 
 b'leeve, right this minute, that I could eat fig pre- 
 serves, or even watermelon." 
 
 On the window ledge a cricket began a gay chirp- 
 ing. At times his shrill cry seemed at her very ear ; 
 then again it faded off to a thin echo. Now it sank, 
 miles and miles away. 
 
 Phil never thought of rising from the floor and 
 getting ready for bed, in the ordinary way. These 
 happy usages belonged to a life already nearly over. 
 Yes, she was starving, and was glad of it. A great 
 wave of exhaustion, black and warm, crept in, flood- 
 ing and drowning her. Then she knew nothing 
 more.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 THE DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAY 
 
 NEXT morning Rebecca, with the bread and 
 milk, cautiously opening the attic door, drew 
 back with a low cry of alarm. She had stepped on 
 the slippery, outspread masses of Phil's yellow hair. 
 
 Chill with terror, the old woman got down to her 
 knees, and, setting the tray quickly aside on the 
 floor, began to lift up the prone figure. It was 
 yielding and warm to the touch. " Praise heaven 
 and His mercies for this!" muttered Rebecca. 
 
 The girl's face had as little of color as the goblet 
 of milk by her side. The great stone-gray eyes with 
 their black fringes and flecks of gentian purple 
 slowly opened, and fixed themselves steadily on her 
 frightened companion. 
 
 " Lord ! Lord ! " sighed Rebecca, as her burden 
 was placed on the bed. " But you skeered a whole 
 year's growth outer me that time, Phil'mel." In 
 speaking, the corner of her black kitchen apron was 
 raised, and the old servant's damp brow vigorously 
 mopped. 
 
 Phil stared on without any attempt at reply. Now 
 her bloodless lips moved, but the words were in- 
 audible. 
 
 Rebecca nodded as though she had heard them.
 
 DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAY 243 
 
 "Yes, things is considerable better downstairs this 
 mornin'. Your brother slept fine, and me and your 
 Maw, we got a few winks too, Glory be ! 'Tain't no 
 joke nursin' Edgar when he's ailin'. Now you try 
 to set up, Phil'mel," she coaxed, in a brisk, kindly 
 voice. " Drink your milk, and eat some of your 
 bread." For answer the child gave a motion of re- 
 pugnance and turned her white face away. 
 
 " That's right ! Don't you eat that dry stuff ! " 
 the other suddenly exclaimed. " It ain't fit for a 
 dog. Jest you wait. I'm goin' to take on myself to 
 run down to the kitchen and drop you a nice egg on 
 some toast. I'll declare," she added, her eyes brood- 
 ing on Phil, " but you look a lot sicker than Edgar 
 this minute ! " 
 
 She was moving away, when Phil reached out and 
 caught the black apron. " Do vou think I got 'fan- 
 tile peralysis ? Do you think I am going to die ? " 
 The questions were asked with strange eagerness. 
 
 Rebecca looked shocked. " Sufferin' angels ! 
 Who says that I said sech a thing! Of course you 
 ain't got it. You let go my apurn. All's the mat- 
 ter with you is the lack of real food." 
 
 Phil clutched the more desperately. " But, Re- 
 becca," she explained, " don't you see that I'm hop- 
 ing I have got it. I want to. Last night I just 
 prayed and prayed hard's I knew how that God would 
 send it to me in the place of the others. It would 
 kill my stepmother if anything happened to Edgar, 
 or, over there next door, to Rosa Maria, and 
 nobody cares much about me."
 
 244 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 The old woman tugged at her apron, finally wrench- 
 ing it free. " Of all the queer young 'uns," she 
 murmured, avoiding the big, tragic eyes. 
 
 " But you know it's the truth," the small voice 
 persisted. " Why, just look at you ! You simply 
 de-spise me. You always are calling me ' spoiled,' 
 and a ' vixen,' and saying I'm a pest in the house. 
 You'd be glad if I was dead and away." 
 
 " No such a thing, you young, " snapped Kebecca, 
 and then halted, biting her lips as she saw with what 
 ease the harsh phrases came to her tongue. " It's jest 
 my way, little Phil," she said penitently. " I don't 
 mean half them sharp things I raps out. My bark's 
 lots worse than my bite ; the Lord knows that I hopes 
 so! All the same," she declared, as if making a 
 bargain with herself, " I see the time's come when 
 I'd better stop it. I'm a cross-grained, hateful old 
 maid, that's jest what I am; but when all of this 
 mis'ry is over, we'll try to do better. It's nice 
 havin' a little girl livin' here with us." 
 
 " Oh, Rebecca," Phil breathed, propping herself 
 up on one elbow, " do you really think that ? And 
 you don't hate me ? " 
 
 " Here, now," growled the other, " don't you worry 
 'bout nobody hatin' you. Jest you lay there and 
 wait till I go fix you up some kind of breakfast 
 for a Christian child." 
 
 When the poached egg, the milk and the toast 
 had all vanished, this changed and amazing Rebecca 
 said brightly, " !N"ow, Phil, what I'm goin' to do next 
 is to give this rat's-nest of a head of yourn a good
 
 DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAY 245 
 
 brushin' and combin', and do it up right in its two 
 jailer plaits. Here, set down in your rocker, and 
 I'll take the high cheer, to reach handier. You 
 hardly could credit now, could you," she went on in 
 the same pleasant voice, " that when I was a little 
 girl, same as you, I had two long, yaller plaits jest 
 like yours ? " 
 
 Phil looked round through a screen of bright 
 tresses. " Your hair isn't so awful bad now," she 
 ventured politely, " if only you didn't squeeze it back 
 quite so hard, and do it up in that little brown muf- 
 fin. Don't you ever wear more'n two hairpins, Re- 
 becca ? " 
 
 " I've seemed to find two of 'em plenty for my 
 needs," chuckled Rebecca. " I don't waste much 
 time tryin' to fix myself up to be pretty, as per- 
 haps you've noticed." 
 
 " But you ought to," the child cried impulsively. 
 "You're not ugly a bit when you're smiling, and 
 your eyes look shiny and good, like they do now." 
 
 To this no answer was given. Rebecca apparently 
 was trying to swallow a something that stuck in her 
 throat. When she started downstairs, a few mo- 
 ments later, the door of Phil's room was not locked. 
 
 The small figure, again resting among pillows, 
 noted the fact with little interest. She had no 
 special desire, now, to leave the room. She had no- 
 where to go. No one wanted her. After her storm 
 of grief and repentance the previous evening, Phil 
 had a queer sense of having forever lost all the joy 
 of her childhood.
 
 246 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Listening dully, she heard Doctor Evans stop in 
 front of the house, and come in. A laugh rose from 
 below, then the voice of Rebecca called gaily, " Phil'- 
 mel, Oh, you Phil ! Come right down here. 
 Your Maw wants the doctor to see you." 
 
 Phil started down languidly. Her legs wobbled, 
 and felt curiously weak, so that she actually needed 
 the support of the old polished balustrade. 
 
 Rebecca, on watch, fidgeted at the foot of the 
 stairs. Her eyes were more kind, and were 
 " shinier " than ever. She caught Phil by the 
 shoulder, peering down in evident excitement. 
 " First thing, Phil," she broke out, " have you ever 
 happened to have measles to home ? " 
 
 Phil's mouth opened. " Why, yes, I have had 
 them, last year. But " 
 
 Eebecca laughed out. " Never mind l buts.' If 
 you have, then walk right in at that door." 
 
 To a child there is always something distinctly 
 repellent in a sick chamber. Out from this one now 
 crept mingled odors of witch hazel, chloride of lime, 
 and stale oranges. She paused on the threshold, but 
 receiving a nod of encouragement from Rebecca, 
 went in. 
 
 The room was so dark that all Phil could see, on 
 first entering, was the curtained gleam of a window, 
 and two shadowy figures moving about, both " grown- 
 ups." 
 
 She felt arms about her, and knew it to be Mrs. 
 Merrill. The child gave a faint cry and stood 
 trembling. " It's all right, Philomel. It's all
 
 DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAY 247 
 
 right, dear little daughter," said the mother's glad 
 voice. " Edgar's going to get well. He has noth- 
 ing but measles, a plain, normal case. Everything 
 is all right ; and I know that my dear little girl will 
 never again be untruthful or disobedient." 
 
 " Oh, no, I won't, Mother. I won't, never till 
 never, cross my heart ! " said Phil fervently. 
 
 Doctor Evans, leaning over, said kindly. "You 
 poor little tot! Why, you're whiter than flour! 
 It's a shame a darned shame ! " he broke off. A 
 big hand caught her arm, and she felt herself drawn 
 close to the good doctor. 
 
 " Shame or no shame," he said now, half laugh- 
 ing, " you two youngsters have given us all a terrible 
 scare. I suppose," he continued, looking upward to 
 Mrs. Merrill, " that our minds and imaginations are 
 so filled with the fear of this devilish oh, I beg 
 everybody's pardon this mysterious scourge 
 that we're seeing its symptoms where they never ex- 
 isted. Thank God that this time I guessed wrong." 
 
 " But Edgar, where's Edgar ? " Phil demanded, 
 beginning to peer through the thinning darkness. 
 
 " Here I am, in the bed, Ninny. Where'j you 
 reckon ! " called a jubilant voice. " And I'm just 
 covered ev'rywhere with little red spots, like pink 
 sand on a circus cookie, ain't I, Mommer ? You 
 ain't got any spots, old Phil Merrill. Can I show 
 Phil all my spots, Mommer ? " 
 
 "Hold! Hold!" cried the doctor. "In good 
 time, little man. We've got to keep those spots 
 warm for a day or two yet."
 
 248 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Oh, doctor," asked Phil, " may I go up to Ed- 
 gar ? May I kiss him ? " 
 
 The doctor nodded. Ignoring Edgar's rebuff, 
 " No, you don't kiss me, neither ! " Phil hurled 
 herself down to the bed-clothes. " Oh ; Edgar ! " 
 she cried, " I'm never, never going to be mean to 
 you any more. I'll read to you hours and hours 
 from my fairy books ; and I'll make up the wonder- 
 fullest new stories to tell you." 
 
 " Begin me one now," dictated the tyrant. 
 
 Phil gasped. " You're so sudden ! I must think 
 it out first to myself, for a minute. I " 
 
 Here a blessed diversion occurred, the entrance 
 of Rebecca with her well-known black tray. Phil 
 shuddered at the sight of it. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill went across the room swiftly, and 
 raised one of the window shades by a few inches. 
 
 " Put the tray by the bedside, Rebecca," she di- 
 rected. " And, now, Mother' s-boy," she smiled 
 down at Edgar, " I want you to show Doctor Evans 
 and your sister how much of that good gruel you can 
 eat." 
 
 " I won't have no old gruel ! " snarled Edgar, in 
 response to this dulcet appeal. " It's nothin' but 
 corn meal and water. It's just mush, and I hate 
 it!" 
 
 Phil bent to him eagerly. " Oh, no, Edgar. It's 
 not mush at all," she assured him. " It's polenta 
 real polenta. The Italian children next door sim- 
 ply live on it. It's de-Ztc-ious. Here, try just a 
 taste. They eat it with red onions dipped in salt."
 
 DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAY 249 
 
 The invalid gulped down a spoonful, and smiled 
 sheepish approval. " You go get me a red onion 
 now," he sat up, and ordered Eebecca. 
 
 It took them all several moments to convince the 
 small patient that red onions, as a relish, belonged to a 
 much more advanced stage of getting well. The doc- 
 tor, again in a chair near at hand, watched the scene, 
 laughing softly. 
 
 The name of polenta had brought back to Phil, in 
 a sudden dark rush of fear, the fact that her neigh- 
 bors next door were in trouble. She slid from the 
 bed, and went up to the doctor. " Oh, doctor," she 
 whispered, pitching her voice very low, " please tell 
 me about the the you. know, the Italians. 
 Have they just got measles, too ? " 
 
 " Surest thing that you know ! " said the good man. 
 Phil threw an instinctive and frightened side look 
 toward her mother, but the big hearty voice boomed 
 along. " The eruption on their little brown skins 
 is not so advanced as that on your brother. The 
 germ, wherever it came from, struck him first." 
 
 Phil required a full moment to get this last state- 
 ment quite clear. Her puckered brow betrayed 
 mathematical struggles. " Then Edgar never got 
 it from them ? " she said slowly. " Edgar started it, 
 and I took it to them. I suppose they are hating me 
 like poison." 
 
 " Not that crowd ! " laughed the doctor. " They 
 wouldn't recognize ' hate ' if they met it on the road 
 at high noon. They're the most blithesome and win- 
 ning young lot that I've ever been thrown up against.
 
 250 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 ' Sunshine Beggars ' the folks about here are begin- 
 ning to call them. It's a bully good name, and, I'll 
 swear, it's an outrage." The words were checked 
 suddenly, but Phil caught at his hand, shaking it to 
 recall him. 
 
 " What do you mean, Doctor Evans ? What's an 
 outrage ? " she demanded. " Has anything terrible 
 happened ? " 
 
 The doctor's hand went up through his gray hair. 
 " JSTot yet," he replied, " but it's going to. It's noth- 
 ing a little girl like you could understand." 
 
 " But I can," Phil persisted, ignoring her step- 
 mother's cold, watchful eyes. " Please please tell 
 me. I can't go to their house any more, but I love 
 them. What's an outrage ? " 
 
 " They're to be sent away," answered he sadly. 
 " After all of the work they have put on their poor 
 little home, they must leave it." 
 
 " Leave their home ! Leave the pond and the 
 garden ! " Phil repeated as if not believing. 
 " Leave the print of Rosa Maria's hand at the side 
 of the door ! " 
 
 Mrs. Merrill now spoke. " I consider that ex- 
 cellent news," she said crisply. " I suppose it is 
 due to the efforts of Mr. Hopkins." 
 
 " Yes, it's Hopkins, all right, or, rather, it's Mrs. 
 Hopkins," asserted the doctor rather wearily, and 
 went on to explain. " When the first scare of par- 
 alysis struck us, the Hopkins's house was like a nest 
 of mad hornets. Twice they nearly got the little girl 
 off in that big car of theirs, and both times the local
 
 DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAY 251 
 
 quarantine officers turned them back. They were 
 frantic. Of course, now I've told them it's measles, 
 they have calmed down a bit But the fright gave 
 Mrs. Hopkins her chance at the poor, unsuspecting 
 Italians. She urged Hopkins to rush through a legal 
 injunction to have them removed, as a menace to 
 health. I've put in a counter-appeal, restraining the 
 serving of the warrant until I give professional as- 
 surance that the children are well enough to be moved. 
 But that means ten days or two weeks at the most." 
 
 Phil hid her face on the doctor's gray sleeve and 
 began softly crying. " And Annunciata was plan- 
 ning to spend some of her money to bring their sick 
 father home," the child sobbed. 
 
 " The poor chap's there now," sighed the doctor. 
 " He got there this morning, and they are all just 
 about as blissful as folks on this earth get to be. 
 They know nothing yet of Hopkins' injunction. 
 He'll send Ferris to tell them, and I don't envy 
 Ferris his job." 
 
 Mrs. Merrill kept silent, her lips set and thin. 
 
 Suddenly, to the amazement of all, the speaker 
 included, Kebecca flared out. " And it is a shame, 
 too, a clear, burnin' shame," she cried hotly. 
 " Not that I've got any fondness for Eyetalians and 
 emigrants in gen'ral," she threw in with a glance of 
 concern toward Mrs. Merrill, " but that lot over next 
 door is so busy, and happy, and laughin' ! Somehow 
 I'd always thought of furriners as bein' lazy, but 
 not them! They come to a hovel as would make 
 your eyes smart with its ugliness, and by jest toilin',
 
 252 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 have changed it to the show-place on Bible Road." 
 
 Doctor Evans rose heavily to go. He stepped 
 nearer Phil, who had gone sobbing over toward the 
 window, and lifting her up in his arms said, with 
 deep tenderness, " Don't cry, little girl. Crying can 
 do nothing to help them. It's a darned shame, and 
 I'd like to run those rich Hopkinses off, instead of 
 the Italians ; but the Hopkins have got the whip into 
 their hands, and it's hopeless." 
 
 Phil put her lips close to his ear. " Ask Mother 
 to let me go over and see them," she pleaded. 
 
 In spite of the low pitch of voice, Mrs. Merrill 
 had heard her. The look given to Doctor Evans was 
 that lady's sufficient reply. 
 
 " Maybe you'd better not go yet awhile, little girl," 
 he said soothingly. 
 
 " Well, then," whispered Phil as his clutch began 
 loosening, and she felt herself slipping to the floor, 
 " ask her if I can't go see Ma Comfort." 
 
 " I really am at a loss to imagine, Philomel," here 
 put in the stepmother very stiffly, " why such ques- 
 tions are not put directly to me, instead of through 
 Doctor Evans. One would think I maltreated you. 
 If he assures me there is no risk in your resuming 
 your visits to Mrs. Giddings, and you're so eager 
 to go, I'd be the last one to forbid you." 
 
 The doctor, now realizing who Phil meant by " Ma 
 Comfort," exclaimed, " To be sure there's no risk ! 
 Those kind souls carry ozone, and health, and good 
 cheer about with them. Let the little girl go by all 
 means, Mrs. Merrill."
 
 DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAY 253 
 
 Edgar sat straight up in his bed. " You shan't 
 go now, neither, Phil Merrill," he protested. 
 " Don't let her go, Mommer. She said she would 
 tell me a story." 
 
 "Don't cry, Edgar," smiled Phil. "Of course 
 I'm going to do that first of all. Here, move over 
 a little, so's I can get one end of a pillow, close to 
 your ear. This'll be a splendiferous story. Once 
 on a time, long ago, there was a stone tower miles 
 and miles high " 
 
 " Yes ! " breathed Edgar, wriggling excitedly. 
 
 " And up in the very tip top of that tower they 
 shut up a poor little girl " 
 
 " No ! " checked Edgar peremptorily. " I won't 
 have it a girl. It's a boy, a poor little boy with 
 red spots." 
 
 "All right," said Phil meekly, and commencing 
 all over again, " Once on a time, long ago, there was a 
 stone tower miles and miles high, and up in the top 
 of it they shut up a poor little boy with red spots " 
 
 Edgar chuckled with deep satisfaction, and moved 
 closer to Phil. " A poor little boy with red spots," 
 he repeated. "And they didn't give him nothin' 
 to eat but polenta and little red onions "
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 PA GIDDINGS KEMEMBEES A FEIEND 
 
 THE fairy tale went on. It was interrupted 
 now and again by corrections and emendations 
 from Edgar, but little by little the boy's voice grew 
 drowsy, and soon his low, regular breathing told that 
 he had fallen happily asleep. 
 
 Phil, raising herself by both hands, looked curi- 
 ously down upon her stepbrother, almost as if she 
 were seeing him for the first time. Flushed by fever, 
 and sprinkled pathetically with the red spots of which 
 he was so proud, the small face was sweet, and more 
 childlike than ever before. 
 
 With a warm throb of the heart Phil said to her- 
 self, " Why, I believe I could love Edgar some, after 
 all, even if he hasn't got black, curly hair like the 
 Italians. Maybe, if I can really love him, he will 
 stop whining so much, and calling me names, and 
 making faces. I'm going to try for it, anyway." 
 
 Leaning closer she gently deposited on his fore- 
 head the kiss so recently avoided, and then, with a 
 sense of elation she had not known for many tem- 
 pestuous weeks, slid noiselessly from the bed, and 
 went into her stepmother's chamber adjoining. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill stood at a window gazing outward
 
 PA REMEMBERS A FRIEND 255 
 
 and up to banks of drifting clouds, frothy white, with 
 the lower edges darkened blue by threats of a mid- 
 summer shower. 
 
 " I think it will be all right for you to go to the 
 beach now, little daughter," she said, hearing Phil 
 coming. " These clouds temper the sun nicely, and 
 I don't believe it is going to rain before you get back. 
 Run along, have a good time, but come home pretty 
 soon. We all need you." 
 
 " Yes'm yes, Mother," said Phil joyously, but 
 she made no motion to go, and the stepmother, look- 
 ing around, saw the child twitching, as if wishing to 
 ask something more. 
 
 " Well, what is it, my dear ? " she smiled encour- 
 agingly. 
 
 " Do you mind," Phil broke out, " do you care, 
 Mother, if I change this brown dress for a clean one ? 
 I got this all rumpled lying on Edgar's bed." 
 
 " Certainly not. You can put on anything that 
 you care to," was Mrs. Merrill's hearty reply. 
 
 It was seldom indeed that Phil took any thought 
 of what she should wear. Clothes to her were usu- 
 ally as negligible as feathers to any young bird. 
 But to-day, after her recent period of chastening, and 
 with the knowledge of the harrowing news she must 
 bear to the house boat, she had a childish desire to 
 dress for the part she was playing. 
 
 The black and white gingham frock was selected as 
 most suitable, then she changed her white stockings to 
 black ones. Her " best " hat, the one worn to 
 church, or on her rare trips into the village, was of
 
 256 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 white, with a ribbon of dark blue. Over this she 
 now twisted a black one, and, slipping off from her 
 plaits the two brown bows neatly tied by Eebecca, felt 
 herself ready to start. 
 
 To-day there could be no dancing or singing along 
 Bible Road. Her steps were taken sedately, and 
 were kept to the small beaten path at the side of the 
 thoroughfare. Blooms of clover and dandelion and 
 pink Bouncing Betty drew across her slender black 
 slippers. Quite over her head the rich purple iron 
 weed, and a few early plumes of bright golden rod 
 waved and nodded. 
 
 As she neared the far edge of her orchard, sounds 
 of voices and laughter came out from the Bertollotti 
 home with such clearness that Phil, working her 
 way farther in among the tall roadside foliage, de- 
 liberately crouched down, parting stems and peering 
 to see her forbidden beloved ones. 
 
 Annunciata's wooden bed had been brought out to 
 the verandah in the sunshine. On it lay the sick 
 father, his face haggard and yellow with long illness. 
 On the floor, within reach of his hand, lay Lucia and 
 little fat Hugo, on the same dingy pallet of rags. 
 
 Annunciata and her small weaving-hoop were 
 perched on the foot of the bed, while the Madre, at 
 pause in the doorway, stood looking down at her 
 husband, her dark face tender with happiness. All 
 were smiling, all serene, in a radiant, loving 
 contentment. 
 
 A sob rose in Phil's throat. Tears, hot and salt, 
 stung her eyelids. " They sha'n't be driven away
 
 PA REMEMBERS A FRIEND 257 
 
 from their home ! " she said fiercely. " It would 
 be too terribly wicked to run them off after all that 
 they've done to make it so pretty. Ma and Pa Gid- 
 dings will think out a way to keep them from going. 
 I wish Pa would drown Mr. Hopkins ! " 
 
 When the vine-covered gate of the cottage was 
 reached, Phil stopped short and looked mournfully 
 inwards, then shrank back, as she saw that Annun- 
 ciata's large, sorrowful eyes were fixed full upon 
 her. 
 
 Phil's hands clasped, and went up to her breast. 
 Her face was a small, passionate prayer. The Ital- 
 ian girl, seeing it, gave an exquisite smile of forgive- 
 ness, at which Phil, choking down rising sobs, man- 
 aged an answering smile, and nodded her thankful- 
 ness. 
 
 It was hard to keep on after this, but Phil made 
 herself do it, though her heart broke anew with each 
 step. She had lost these dear friends. That was 
 certain. All that, during the whole summer past, 
 she had worked, lied, deceived, and connived for, 
 her intercourse with the fascinating strangers next 
 door, had, in a moment, been deprived her. 
 
 " If only," the child thought, " they did not live 
 right by me, and I didn't see them all day, or have to 
 listen to them laughing ! " 
 
 Then, recalling the doctor's words, she knew that 
 it was the Italians, and not herself, who soon must 
 be moving beyond sight and hearing. 
 
 " No, not that ! " Phil now cried aloud. " Any- 
 thing, dear Lamb of God, but sending them off.
 
 258 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 I don't care how bad I may feel. If only they don't 
 have to leave Bible Road." 
 
 She trudged on, oppressed by unhappy reflections. 
 To let them all go without further sign, without 
 words, spoken or written from her, seemed too much 
 for endurance. Then, at the term " writing," her 
 face lighted. " That's just what I can do," she 
 exclaimed. " I'll write 'Nunciata a long letter. 
 Even Mother couldn't mind that, and, besides, I 
 won't tell her. I'll begin the minute I get back from 
 Ma Comfort's. And I believe she will answer it, 
 too, 'Nunciata's so good. We can start a regular 
 correspondence. It will be lovely ! " 
 
 Much cheered, and now quite absorbed in compos- 
 ing her future epistles, Phil had walked swiftly for- 
 ward with no idea of how far she had gone. 
 
 She was vaguely aware of the shimmer of the sea 
 down in front of her, showing blue patches through 
 the limbs of green trees, and even more vaguely she 
 knew that for some moments past the wall of the Hop- 
 kins' Crimson Ramblers had been tumbling and 
 reaching toward her like the crest of a huge, scarlet 
 wave. 
 
 She was brought to herself by the clear, treble voice 
 of Constantia. " Hello, Phil Merrill ! " 
 
 The wayfarer, startled, looked round. " Oh, 
 hello ! " she rejoined. " I can't stop now, Con- 
 stantia. I'm in an awful hurry about something. 
 But I'll stop and play when I come back." 
 
 Miss McCracken, whom Phil had not seen, rose 
 from a bench where she had been reading, and hur-
 
 PA REMEMBERS A FRIEND 259 
 
 ried toward the two children. A firm hand was 
 placed on Constantia's much-ruffled shoulder. 
 
 " I'm afraid that will be impossible," said the 
 trained nurse, speaking directly to Phil. " Con- 
 stantia has never had measles." 
 
 " Oh, that's all right ! " exclaimed Phil, who, in- 
 deed, felt only relief. "Well, good-by then, Con- 
 stantia," she cried gaily. " Good-by. I must hurry, 
 good-by." 
 
 But Constantia proved far from compliant. 
 "You people all make me tired," she exclaimed, 
 shrugging her shoulder away, and lifting an angry 
 face to that of the trained nurse. " I'm never al- 
 lowed to go anywhere, or play with anybody. I 
 can't move without somebody following me." 
 
 " I am merely carrying out your mother's instruc- 
 tions, Constantia," said Miss McCracken. " I am 
 sure I wish you could play with little Phil Merrill, 
 or any one else, for that matter. It would be a great 
 respite for me." 
 
 " Things wouldn't be so if it wasn't for those hate- 
 ful Italians," the angry child cried. " There's been 
 nothing but fussing and trouble ever since they 
 moved in. Mamma won't even let me look at them 
 playing and singing down there in their own yard. 
 But they've got to go now," she added triumphantly. 
 " My Daddy is having them run off." 
 
 " They won't be run off either, Constantia Hop- 
 kins," answered Phil hotly. "That's what I'm 
 going to fix up right now. Ma and Pa Giddings 
 won't let them be run off; you just see ! "
 
 260 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Miss McCracken gave a little dry laugh, but her 
 cool steady eyes had a kind look. " If any one per- 
 son could prevent it," she stated, recalling the scene 
 on the Hopkins' verandah, " it would be Mrs. Gid- 
 dings. But in this case I fear that even her energies 
 are hopeless." 
 
 " She can't do a thing, or you either, Phil Mer- 
 rill," stormed Constantia. " She's a common old 
 fishwife. Mamma said so, and she won't let me go 
 to their boat, though I screamed for an hour to go. 
 And even if she could fix it, I know a way by myself 
 to get rid of the Dagoes. I've planned it all sum- 
 mer. You watch me ! " 
 
 " Constantia," frowned Miss McCracken. " Stop 
 speaking in that excited, ugly manner; it is bad for 
 your voice. And stop stamping your foot. I'm sur- 
 prised at such conduct. You have nothing to do with 
 the affair, one way or another." 
 
 " Oh, haven't I, though ! " cried Constantia. 
 " You just wait. I know a way to get even ! " 
 
 Phil sped down the road, glad enough to make her 
 escape. The wide curve of the bay was in sight. A 
 breeze was blowing that stirred the water to scallops 
 of blue shot with silver. Far out, the bright streak 
 of Laddie's Island shone like a broad emerald smile. 
 It was all very beautiful, quite as enchanting, in 
 its own placid way, as the jewelled stretch of the Ber- 
 tollotti's flower-starred garden. 
 
 And there, close at hand, was the house boat, the 
 small green and white house boat, fringed about its 
 tiny front deck with flowers. Phil grew more tran-
 
 PA REMEMBERS A FRIEND 261 
 
 quil. All trouble must surely end here. Not a soul 
 was in sight, neither Ma, nor Pa Giddings, nor Lad- 
 die. Phil wondered where on earth the whole fam- 
 ily could be. 
 
 She ran down the long stilted pier. There was 
 no sound of life near her except that, on the poop 
 deck, three of Ma Comfort's shadow children raced 
 and curved in a game of gay squirrel tag. They 
 darted in three separate ways as she neared them. 
 The boldest ran up an awning post, hid himself to the 
 elbows in leaves, and cocked a black bead of an eye 
 toward the intruder. 
 
 " Where's everybody gone, all at once, little gray 
 brother ? " Phil demanded. For answer the shadow 
 flake pensively scratched himself under a fuzzy 
 chin. 
 
 The child moved slowly. The silence was grow- 
 ing uncanny. She could not have believed that the 
 dear little house boat could lie so mysteriously still. 
 Not even the hum of one of Ma's plaintive love bal- 
 lads stole forth on the delicate air. 
 
 Phil was half-way down the four front steps when 
 the first sound arrested her. It might have been the 
 sound of low weeping, but who, in that home of con- 
 tentment, would weep ? She ran down the steps, and 
 up to the wide-opened door, where she stood speech- 
 less. 
 
 At the table was Ma Comfort, her sleek, parted 
 brown head prone upon it. In his chair by the fire- 
 place, a spot filled now, in summer, with dried ferns, 
 sat Pa Giddings, his chin on one hand. Hearing
 
 262 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 Phil, he looked up, and his wrinkles strove hard to 
 gather into a welcoming smile. 
 
 The child ran to his side. " Oh, Pa Comfort," 
 she whispered, " what's the matter ? Is Ma cryin' 
 because she has heard ? " 
 
 Pa nodded a mournful assent, but, from the table, 
 came a snort as of angry defiance. 
 
 " Yes, I heered, and I'm cryin'," Ma declared, 
 with a look toward Phil which seemed to suggest that 
 the child was the cause of the trouble. " And who 
 wouldn't beller and bawl, I would ask you, with 
 such vileness as this goin' on ? Oh, them poor Bek- 
 kylockies, them lovely, sweet, sunshine Eyetalians, 
 to be drove out of their home at the whim of that 
 huzzy, Mis' Hopkins! The man ain't so bad. Pa 
 saw him. It's that huzzy, it is, and shame to her! 
 How did you come to know 'bout it so early, my 
 lamb ? " 
 
 " Doctor Evans told mother this morning," an- 
 swered Phil. " He said it was a darned shame, and 
 it is! I've been crying and crying about it, but that 
 don't do any good. My stepmother's glad, but al- 
 most everybody else is real sorry, even Rebecca and 
 Constantia's nurse, Miss McCracken. But, Ma 
 Comfort, you and Uncle John surely won't let Mrs. 
 Hopkins be so wicked. That's why I came here in 
 a hurry, to tell you it just mustn't happen. Why, 
 it can't!" 
 
 Before the big, confident eyes Ma's head lowered. 
 
 " But, Ma Comfort ! " protested Phil, and, in her 
 excitement, laid hold of one of the stout arms that
 
 PA REMEMBERS A FRIEND 263 
 
 were stretched out on the table, and began shaking it 
 violently. " Don't hide your face and keep moaning. 
 Of course, you can stop it ! You and Uncle John can 
 have the law on them. Just look how easy you got 
 'Xunciata's money for her lace ! " 
 
 Ma was silent except for her sobs. John looked 
 up and beckoned the little girl closer. 
 
 " It's like this, little Gran'darter," he began in his 
 usual slow, kindly voice. " The law, right this 
 minute, is our foe. The laws of this Christian 
 land," he went on somberly, " they's a good deal like 
 snakes; all depends on the way they's picked up. 
 Kow these Hopkinses is holdin' a rattlesnake law, 
 called ' ejection,' and the pizen-end heads towards the 
 Bertollottis. It claims the Eyetalians is nuisances 
 and pests to our neighborhood." 
 
 Pa got no further. " A nuisance they is ! A pest, 
 is they ! " Ma volleyed. " They's not half the pesses 
 their own spiled child is ! And a nice little gal she'd 
 be, too," flung in Ma, quite illogically, " if she were 
 only brung up more diff runt. But now, 'cause Mis' 
 Hopkins is skeered her Constantia'll ketch something 
 'sides bad manners, the whole kit an' bilin' of Eye- 
 talians must go. Oh, them blessed brown babies, all 
 a-workin' from sun-up to sun-down to make their 
 little home pritty! And fat little Hogew what al- 
 ways eats when I tell him, and Nuncy-yawter, 
 a sancterfied child if one ever breathed in this desert 
 of human depravity, and poor, poor Mis' Bellicotie, 
 jest a-sheddin' out joy 'cause that weazen, sick 
 husban' of hern is come back, it is simply heart-
 
 264 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 ren-derin', it is. Seems, somehow, as if I wouldn't 
 be able to bear it ! Oh, John, they must be sum- 
 thin' else we can do. I'm like Phil here, don't 
 seem it can happen ! " 
 
 A fresh outbreak of sobbing made the whole little 
 home rock and shiver. Phil looked back at Pa. His 
 eyes, lowered, were set on the ferns. 
 
 Phil's harassed mind, beating about, thought of 
 Laddie. She had not caught a glimpse of him yet. 
 
 " Where's my dog, Pa ; where's Laddie ? " she 
 questioned, as if thankful to have found this new 
 interest. 
 
 " He's out to the Island," said Pa. " You see," he 
 explained, at her look of surprise, " when me and 
 Comfort first heard of this thing, it was early this 
 mornin', we saw right off as how we must get up 
 and hustle. We started for Kington, to a lawyer, 
 and even hunted up the old Jedge, who's a great 
 friend of mine, as he was of your father's, God bless 
 him." 
 
 " But Laddie, why did Laddie go out to the Is- 
 land ? " reminded his little mistress. 
 
 " Oh, yes, Laddie," said Pa. " Of course, me and 
 Ma saw we couldn't sail inland with that wrigglin' 
 craft in our wake. He'd be certain to trail us, even 
 if we managed to slip off, and so, befo' startin', I jest 
 rowed him over and left him." 
 
 " They was two great big bones for his dinner, 
 and some corn bread," put in Ma, as well as she 
 could for her sobbing. 
 
 " We ain't bin back here long," added Pa. " And
 
 somehow, in all of the mis'ry, I ain't had the heart 
 to row over and fetch him." 
 
 Phil nodded complete understanding. In the 
 blackness of this threatening cloud, Laddie's presence 
 or absence did not matter. She sat down on a chair, 
 and, unconsciously copying Pa Giddings, set a droop- 
 ing face on one palm. " And the lawyer-man, Pa ? " 
 she now questioned. "And the Judge, couldn't 
 they do anything either ? " 
 
 A desolate head-shake from John was sufficient 
 reply. 
 
 Phil caught at a new gleam of hope. " Did you 
 try the 'Piscerpalean minister ? " she asked quickly. 
 
 Old John accomplished the hint of a smile. 
 " Law, little Phil," he returned, with a low chuckle, 
 " you mout as well ask me if I baited my fishhooks 
 with glue." 
 
 " We've tried everything everything ! " de- 
 clared Ma, sitting upright, and forcing herself under 
 more definite control. " Nearly all of the people 
 we went to agreed that the thing was an outrage, and 
 oughtn't to happen, but that was as far as they 
 went. They all says as that land agent, Ferris, was 
 the one to blame from the first." 
 
 A growl from Pa Giddings preceded the muttered 
 remark that he'd " take pleasure in choppin' that 
 Ferris into crab-meat." 
 
 " We've went round from store to store-keeper," 
 said Ma. " We've gone from house door to house 
 door like beggars. No collector for missions has 
 ever showed more zeal in their work than we done.
 
 266 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 But it's all proven useless. We've seen everybody, 
 and bin everywhere, ain't we, John ? " 
 
 Pa did not answer. His blue eyes were lifted. 
 He stared out through the door with the look which, 
 once before, had been on his face at the vision of a 
 tall white-robed form by a Palestine road, with arms 
 reaching downward as He said, " Little children, 
 come unto Me." 
 
 " Why, Paw, why, John Giddin's," cried his 
 wife, her voice touched with excitement. " What on 
 earth is you seein' ? What is ailin' you ? " 
 
 John rose to his feet. His far-gazing eyes never 
 turned from the shimmer of waters. " Just this, 
 Comfort, wife," said John reverently, " we ain't 
 through tryin' yet, after all ! We says we've done 
 everything, and tried everybody, but it come to me 
 all of a shock, as if Somebody whispered, that 
 the one place they's any use tryin', the one Pusson 
 that always can help, and He does, we ain't bin 
 to at all ! " Ma stood still, her eyes on him. Long 
 before the speaker had finished, the light from his 
 face shone on hers. Then her head bent before 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, John," she said humbly, " my dear man. 
 You've always bin better than me. To think I for- 
 got to ask Him! God forgive me. Here, Phil, git 
 down to your knees. Husband, kneel here beside 
 me. Hold my wicked old hand in your good one. 
 Here and now we are goin' to carry this trouble to 
 the foot of the White Throne of Him what has said, 
 ' If any man ask in My name, ' and ' When two or
 
 PA REMEMBERS A FRIEND 267 
 
 three gathers together.' Gather in' time is here now ! 
 Phil, my dear little gran'darter, you pray too. Put 
 your bright head up clost to my shoulder. All kneel, 
 and now, one two three, all begin ! "
 
 CHAPTEE TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 PHIL carried back with her, along Bible Road, 
 a heart strangely tranquil. Remembering 
 her stepmother's affectionate words, " Come home 
 pretty soon. We all need you," she took care to re- 
 turn in good time for luncheon. 
 
 Immediately after, she was going to write her first 
 letter to Annunciata. Making some trivial excuse, 
 she went up to her room in search for paper, ink, and 
 an envelope but, finding none, was compelled to seek 
 aid from her stepmother. 
 
 " Another letter to Cousin Betty ? " inquired Mrs. 
 Merrill pleasantly. " Of course you shall have 
 paper and envelopes, and, instead of the ink which 
 overturns so easily, suppose you try this new pencil. 
 It is one of your brother's, with the American flag 
 stamped upon it. You shall have it for your own." 
 
 " She sha'n't have one of my 'Merican pencils, 
 neither ! " promptly contradicted Edgar from the 
 bed. " They are mine. Me and Rebecca bought 
 them in the five-and-ten-cent store down to Kington." 
 
 Mrs. Merrill gave him a look of gentle reproof. 
 " Now, Edgar, remember you're Mother's dear, good 
 little boy," she flattered. " And your sister is very 
 thoughtful and kind since you've been ill. I can't
 
 A " REAL " MOTHER 269 
 
 bear my boy to be selfish. You have four of the 
 pencils. Surely you're willing to give Philomel 
 one." 
 
 " But I don't want her to go and write any old let- 
 ter," he complained, holding the gift forth with re- 
 luctance. " I want her to tell me a story." 
 
 " I'll come right back here the minute I finish," 
 promised Phil. " And I'll tell you the prettiest one 
 yet, honest I will, Edgar." 
 
 " Honest ? " echoed the boy, sitting upright, and 
 frowning with the intensity of his appeal. " Hon- 
 est ? Cross your heart ? Hope to die ? " 
 
 " Cross my heart, hope to die," reiterated Phil 
 solemnly, as she went through the desired cryptic 
 motions. 
 
 " An' you declare before goodness it ain't goin' to 
 be a long letter ? " haggled the small tyrant. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill broke in with a laugh. " There, 
 Phil, you've promised enough," she asserted. " Run 
 right along. I'll read to your brother until you get 
 back. Do you want me to help you compose it ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! No, thank you, Mother," the girl an- 
 swered hurriedly. " I've got to do this one all by 
 myself." 
 
 She ran to the door, thankful to be so nearly out 
 of it, but Mrs. Merrill had not finished yet. 
 
 " What is your Cousin Betty's present address ? 
 Are you quite sure you have it ? " she questioned. 
 
 " Yes'm. Yes, Mother, I'm sure," the impatient 
 child panted. " She's over at a big school in Bal 
 ball-baltimore. It's written plain on the top of her
 
 270 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 letter." This statement caused evident surprise. 
 "At school!" Mrs. Merrill exclaimed. "Why, I 
 had fancied your cousin, Miss Preston, quite an 
 elderly person." 
 
 "Oh, she is! Aw-ful old!" emphasized Phil. 
 " She's not going to school as a scholar. She's learn- 
 ing to be a sure-'nuff, grown-up teacher, so she can 
 teach girls bigger than me." 
 
 As a matter of fact young and charming Betty 
 Preston was exactly twenty-two years of age. 
 
 " Oh, is that it ? " said the other with a small, 
 humorous twitch of the lips. " Yes, Edgar. Don't 
 begin fretting. Mother will get you the book right 
 away." 
 
 Phil, thankful at last to be free, ran up to her 
 room, drew a chair up to the dresser, tossed back the 
 plain scarf, and began writing. 
 
 "My own precious, dear, darling Annunciata," 
 the letter was started. There were many side-tilts 
 of the smooth, yellow head, and much audible suck- 
 ing of the pencil's blunt end before the missive was 
 completed. At last four close pages were covered, 
 and Phil held them at arm's length, for a victorious 
 survey. 
 
 They were folded and the envelope directed, not 
 without many flourishes of the " 'Merican " pencil. 
 In one corner, the one where a stamp should have 
 been, Phil outlined two hearts, intertwining. A 
 long arrow held them together. On one was the in- 
 itial " A," and its mate bore a top-heavy " P." 
 
 The next problem was how to get it into the hands
 
 A " REAL " MOTHER 271 
 
 of the Italians! The writer slipped quietly out to 
 the hall and leaned over. From the invalid's room, 
 came the low, steady sound of the mother's voice, 
 reading. Phil smiled. This was quite as it should 
 be. She crept down the stairs without a single be- 
 trayal of old creaking boards, gained the lower flight, 
 then the front door, and, with her letter clasped close, 
 flew down straight through the orchard. 
 
 On reaching the end of St. Cristofo's Ferry, she 
 perceived that the vigorous plants springing there in 
 moist earth had crowded much higher since the last 
 time she had seen them. She raised herself to her 
 toes, peering over, but no Bertollotti was to be seen. 
 
 She climbed up to the tree from which still de- 
 pended the half-broken limb. This had not withered 
 at all. Upon it, as on all the rest of the branches, 
 green apples were plumping; but Phil did not dare 
 add even her light weight to the thick-set young 
 fruit. 
 
 From the fork she again stood on tiptoe, gazing 
 outward. The garden was empty of human inhab- 
 itants, and Phil, sighing deeply, was just about to 
 slip down when, coming out from the cave, she spied 
 Tonio's black head. 
 
 " Tony ! To-nio ! " she called to him softly. 
 
 The boy, whose ears were, for sharpness, like those 
 of a trained setter dog, looked instantly towards her. 
 
 " Come here, Tony," repeated Phil, beckoning. 
 " Please come." 
 
 The boy scowled. " Nix ! " he retorted. " Your 
 folks is ashamed of lettin' you be near us."
 
 272 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 "But, Tonio," argued Phil, "that's my folks. 
 That ain't me! I'm perfectly crazy about all of 
 you, and I wish I could live in your house. Here's 
 a long letter I've just wrote to 'Nunciata, telling her 
 so." Here the white letter was temptingly waved. 
 
 Tonio's scowl did not go but, at least, he was mov- 
 ing toward her. Half-way over the board that 
 spanned St. Cristofo's Ferry, he stopped short. " If 
 you's got anything fer my sister, you gotter bring it 
 out here to me," he announced with decision. " ]STot 
 one frog- jump furder into your ole stepmother's 
 yard, do I come ! " 
 
 " But, Tonio ! How can I ? Don't you see I'm 
 way up in the tree ? " 
 
 " What's de matter wid lettin' go sudden," sug- 
 gested the other unkindly. " You'll come down 
 quick enough. Well, what goes next ? You drop, or 
 I beat it?" 
 
 " ISTo, don't go. Don't you dare turn your back 
 on me, Tonio ! I'm comin' this minute ! " called out 
 Phil, and began scrambling earthwards. " Ouch ! 
 Now see what you've done ! You have made me tear 
 a big hole in my stocking! Here's the letter, old 
 Mister Meany ! But, Tonio, just one minute 
 more. Tell me something 'bout Rosa Maria." 
 
 At this question the boy, in spite of his churlish- 
 ness, could not keep back a grin. " De kid's begun 
 chatterin' all at onst," he replied, his face eager. 
 " She's a. human talkin'-machine, is Eosa Maria. 
 We all jes' sets in a ring 'round her, listenin'." 
 
 " Oh, oh ! I must hear her. But her sickness,
 
 A " REAL " MOTHER 273 
 
 her measles, Tonic- ? How is that getting along ? " 
 Philomel urged. 
 
 Tonio shook his black head. All brightness went 
 from him instantly. 
 
 " Not good. De fever dat's got her is fierce. It's 
 what's helpin' to make her do so much talkin'. Them 
 prickles of red like what's on Lucia and Giovanni, 
 they jes' won't bust out. The doctor is giv' her a 
 new kind of med'cine." 
 
 " She's be all right in a minute when the 'ruption 
 does bust," said Phil hopefully. " My measels done 
 did exactly that way. Tell me, Tony, what 
 words is Kosa Maria saying? I'm just dying to 
 hear!" 
 
 " You can die, den," growled the troubled boy 
 rudely. " It ain't nothin' to me ! " and with the 
 harsh statement began kicking the side of the board. 
 The dry, rasping sound made Phil shudder. 
 
 " Don't you do that ! " she cried, in the tone An- 
 nunciata used in correcting the children. " You are 
 barefoot, and you'll get your big toe chuck full of 
 splinters ! 'Lijah always had his like a needle-book. 
 Please tell me what Rosa Maria is saying." 
 
 Tonio, clinging hard to his surliness, got out some- 
 thing about its being his toe, and therefore none of 
 Phil's business. 
 
 The girl's delicate chin quivered. " If you knew 
 half how much I loved Rosa Maria," the plaintive 
 voice said, " you couldn't have the heart to be mean. 
 She loves me too, because her dimples begin when- 
 ever I come near her. It isn't my fault, now, is
 
 274 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 it that I've got only a step, instead of a real-f or- 
 true mother like the Madre ? I should think you'd 
 be sorry, and try to act kind, instead of looking as if 
 you could bite me ! " 
 
 Before this appeal, the boy's pretense of enmity 
 vanished. " De kid likes you all right," he ad- 
 mitted, with a sigh of defeat. " De very fust word 
 she spoke out was your name, Phil. ' Feel, 
 Feel ! ' she keeps chirpin', like a bird wid one note. 
 Her teeth was all shinin', and her cheeks dancin' in 
 dimples, and whilst she was peepin' an' chirpin', she 
 kept lookin' 'round her like dis." 
 
 With the words Tonio lengthened his throat, and, 
 perking his head from one side to another, gave a 
 very good picture of a lively young crow on its 
 nest. 
 
 Phil laughed at the sight. " Oh, the darling ! 
 The precious, cute an-gel ! I just got to see her ! I 
 don't care! If she's calling my name and looking 
 for me, like you say, I am going ! " 
 
 She dashed for the ferry. Tonio steadied his legs 
 on the plank. Two forbidding, grimy hands were 
 flung up, the palms outward. 
 
 " No, you don't ! " he said quickly. " Not one 
 step. We ain't wantin' no folks in our house as is 
 'shamed of bein' seen there. I heered what you hol- 
 lered dat day to de Hopkins kid up on de bank. I 
 don't keer if you ain't got only a stepmother. What 
 she says to you goes! You can't come to our house 
 any more, till you walks in de gate like a lady. Dis 
 ferry is done for. Here, gimme dat bill," he broke
 
 A " REAL " MOTHER 275 
 
 off, reaching out for the letter. " I got no more 
 time wastin' here." 
 
 Under the lash of his tirade, Phil had slowly re- 
 treated, inch by inch, and now stood well on her 
 side of the old, crumbled wall. She held out the 
 envelope. " Thank you for taking it, Tonio," she 
 said meekly. " I know that you're right about my 
 having to mind my stepmother. She's good to me 
 now, and I ought to want to mind her, oughtn't I ? 
 Please, please beg 'Nunciata to answer my letter. 
 Do you think that she will ? " 
 
 Tonio grunted. " Does I think ! " he scoffed. 
 " Dat sister of mine is so soft she cries when she cuts 
 de eyes out of pertaters ! " 
 
 " And you'll bring me her answer, right away ? 
 You'll bring it out here ? " pursued Phil, seeing her 
 advantage. 
 
 " I'll bring it all right, ef she asts me," he said. 
 " But dey ain't no use your bein' here. I'll stick it 
 down there in de stones," he pointed, " exactly half- 
 way between your yard an' mine." 
 
 " All right, and thank you again," said Phil. " I 
 love you too, Tonio, even if you did talk so mean." 
 
 Phil climbed up through the orchard to the house. 
 She was conscious of hoping that her stepmother was 
 still beside Edgar, reading, so that there would be an 
 opportunity to slip unperceived to her attic chamber 
 and change the torn stocking for a whole one. 
 
 Caution, this time, was in vain. As she crept up 
 the first flight of stairs Mrs. Merrill heard her and, 
 opening softly the door of the sick-room, leaned over
 
 276 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 the balustrade with a finger of warning against her 
 smiling lips. 
 
 Phil braced herself for a new trial. Mrs. Merrill 
 moved round to the head of the steps. " Edgar's 
 sleeping," she whispered, as though Phil had not al- 
 ready guessed it. " Why, Phil ! How on earth did 
 you get that great rent in your stocking ? " 
 
 " In an apple tree," answered the child, briefly. 
 
 " Come into my sewing room," said Mrs. Merrill 
 softly. " We shall see what can be done." 
 
 The speaker walked back along a narrow hallway, 
 and turned in at a door to the right. The small 
 room had but a single rather large window and this 
 gave to the west. The midsummer sun was pouring 
 into it, and, as Mrs. Merrill sank to her usual low 
 rocker, made a great flood of light at her back. 
 
 She put out a hand and drew the hesitant child 
 to her knee. 
 
 " Philomel," the grave voice questioned, " have 
 you been only to the orchard ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mother," said Phil, very low. 
 
 " Not one inch farther ? Not a step into forbid- 
 den ground ? Remember, I trust you." 
 
 " I didn't go even an inch out of the orchard," re- 
 peated the other more firmly, but still she found 
 difficulty in meeting her mother's frank gaze. 
 
 The sunshine fell full on the girl's face. She 
 looked upward into its brightness. For some reason, 
 she could not say why, in the shimmering radiance 
 she seemed to see plainly the faces of Pa and Ma 
 Comfort as they knelt in the small boat-house cabin.
 
 A " REAL " MOTHER 277 
 
 Behind, in an aura of luster still fainter, shone the 
 sweet loving Annunciata, the Madonna and Child, 
 and the bottle with its sprays of blue flowers. 
 
 The child's wide eyes, almost as blue, came back 
 to her stepmother's eyes, and remained there. 
 
 " I did start over next door," she said bravely. 
 " That letter I wrote was to 'Nunciata, and not 
 Cousin Betty at all. I didn't tell you a regular story 
 about it, but I let you believe it was to Cousin Betty, 
 and I know that was every bit as bad. I went to the 
 orchard, and climbed up into the big leaning tree. 
 I called out to Tony, for I wanted him to carry my 
 letter. I made him come over to me, though he 
 didn't want to. He's mad with me, Tonio is. All 
 of the Italians are mad with me." 
 
 The hurried words ceased. "Yes, I am listen- 
 ing," said the stepmother. 
 
 Phil drew in a second long breath. " When Tony 
 had come to the ferry, and told me about Kosa Maria, 
 how sick she was with the measles not coming out, 
 and how she was talking, and kept calling for me, 
 1 Feel ! Feel ! ' just like that, well, I just didn't 
 care about you, or my promise, or anything ! I said 
 out loud that I was going, and I started right straight 
 across St. Cristofo's Ferry " 
 
 " Across what ! Across what, did you say ? " 
 interrupted the other, slightly startled. 
 
 " St. Cristofo's Ferry. It's only a plank that's 
 over the ditch leading down from the Hopkins' big 
 fish-pond. Before Cris put it there, one day, he 
 carried me across on his shoulders, and when he set
 
 278 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 me down on dry ground, near 'Nunciata, she laughed, 
 and called him St. Cristofo, that's his name-saint, 
 you know. And then when I asked them, they told 
 me the story of the good saint, and the little child 
 Jesus, what got heavier and heavier while the ferry- 
 man lifted him over." 
 
 " Yes, I know what you mean now," said Mrs. 
 Merrill. " I have heard the old legend. Then, 
 Philomel, when you were on the bridge, and so 
 greatly tempted to cross, I hope that your conscience 
 and the memory of your promise to me held you 
 back. That was it, surely." 
 
 Phil felt her hand taken caressingly. The step- 
 mother's eyes were quite sweet. The child had a 
 short, agonized struggle. How easy, how terribly 
 easy, just to reach out and take the bright crown 
 of reward ! 
 
 "Yes'm that's so! It's just what," the eager 
 voice began, then, falling back a few steps, with 
 head lowered, Phil said clearly, " No, it wasn't ! I 
 sha'n't tell you any more stories. I was going! I 
 thought of my promise to you, and it didn't stop 
 me a bit. What stopped me was Tonic's saying, 
 ' No, you don't ! Not one step. We ain't wantin' 
 no folks in our house as is ashamed of bein' seen 
 there ! ' He said it like that." 
 
 " Tonio said it ! To-nio, one of the Italians ! " 
 murmured the other incredulously. 
 
 " Yes, he did," stated Phil, " and he meant it. 
 They wouldn't any of 'em even let me come to their 
 house now."
 
 A " REAL " MOTHER 279 
 
 As if in a daze, Mrs. Merrill rose from her chair, 
 and, crossing to the window stood staring out. Phil, 
 after a moment of thought, joined her. The step- 
 mother put out an arm and drew the child close to 
 her side. A queer silence fell over the two. Phil 
 wondered greatly what the motionless figure was 
 thinking. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill drew her other hand slowly over her 
 forehead and eyes. She seemed rousing herself to 
 realities. 
 
 " Suppose, little daughter," she said, moving back 
 to the rocker, " that while Edgar's asleep, you run up 
 and change the torn stockings for good ones. Bring 
 those down, and I'll mend them at once. You can 
 sit here beside me, and and I think I will get 
 you to tell me some more of your friends, the Ital- 
 ians." 
 
 " Oh, Goody ! " cried Phil. " We'll do it ! I can 
 sit on this little red stool, like 'Nunciata on hers 
 with the lace, and I'll keep all the needles full of 
 darning cotton, as I used to for Grandma when she 
 mended my stockings. Won't it be perfectly scrump- 
 tious ! " 
 
 The darning was brought, and the needles so rap- 
 idly threaded that the stepmother, gaily protesting, 
 declared she could not keep up with them. As for 
 Phil, it was hard to believe her own happy senses. 
 That it was really herself, sitting here in the sun 
 by her " Mother," pouring forth endless narratives 
 not only of the neighbors next door, but of Ma Com- 
 fort, and Uncle John, and Laddie, surely this was
 
 280 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 one of the " merracles " in which Pa so securely be- 
 lieved. 
 
 Swiftly darted the needle in and out of Phil's stock- 
 ing, and as swiftly came the stepmother's questions. 
 Through the child's simple words Mrs. Merrill felt 
 herself living bodily the life of the long-scorned Ital- 
 ians, and, taking in for her own the wholesome con- 
 tent of the house boat. More than once her quick 
 laughter rang out. " Just like me," thought Phil, 
 echoing the laughter. Again, and this was more 
 puzzling, Mrs. Merrill would let the work fall and 
 sit brooding for a long moment, her lips set, her 
 yes mysterious and level. 
 
 As the story of Rosa Maria and the spoiled festa 
 was finished, the listener furtively lifted the stocking 
 and, pretending to scrutinize the darn, wiped her 
 eyes. 
 
 " You see, Mother," Phil said, in a low, contrite 
 Toice, " I had just run into their house, screaming 
 mad, because Edgar had ruined my picture. I 
 wanted almost to kill him, and when I got there and 
 saw all of them loving and kissing Rosa Maria when 
 she'd just spoiled the festa, well, I I " 
 
 " You're not the only one, dear," whispered the 
 other, " who is finding out many things to be learned 
 from our neighbors. But now," she exclaimed, in 
 a more practical manner, " both stockings are fin- 
 ished." 
 
 " Oh, don't let's go yet," the girl pleaded. " It's 
 so nice in this dear little room, with just me and you. 
 I could stay here forever." Even in speaking, she
 
 A " REAL " MOTHER 281 
 
 jumped to her feet. " Oh, Mother ! " she cried, 
 " maybe 'Nunciata is already answered my letter. 
 Do you care if I go look ? " 
 
 " No, indeed I don't care," replied Mrs. Merrill. 
 
 " And will you wait right here till I get it ? " urged 
 Phil. " If it's there, it won't take me two shakes 
 of a sheep's tail to find it." 
 
 " Yes, I'll wait," smiled the mother, and now 
 there was no hint of a frown at Phil's " lingo " so 
 plainly derived from Elijah. 
 
 In a very short while Phil returned, two steps at 
 a time up the stairway. The letter was waved in 
 the air. " I got it ! " she called quite superfluously. 
 " It's all glued up in the nicest envelope, with real 
 gold on the edge. That means secrets! Here, 
 Mother, you read it out loud." 
 
 Mrs. Merrill sank back just a little. " You want 
 me to read it first, Phil ? " she asked rather faintly. 
 
 " Nome. We'll read it together," corrected Phil r 
 as she perched on the arm of the rocker. 
 
 A strange stiffness grew in the stepmother's throat. 
 For an instant she feared she might break down 
 into weeping. But control was a habit with her, 
 and she fought back the impulse. 
 
 Neatly opening the envelope with her scissors, she 
 took out a page. Phil slipped down to her stool. 
 Her arms were crossed confidentially on her mother's 
 black-clad knees, and the gray-blue eyes, lifted 
 hopefully, seemed to wait for the first spoken 
 word. 
 
 " ' My sweet friend, Philomel Merrill,' " the reader
 
 282 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 began, then for a moment the letter was held to one 
 side. " Why, what exquisite writing ! " Mrs. Merrill 
 exclaimed in genuine wonder. " It is perfect. I 
 hadn't an idea " 
 
 " It's the nuns in the Convent of Mercy that 
 taught her," Phil proudly declared. " They are big, 
 holy nuns. They know every-ihing I " 
 
 Presbyterian Mrs. Merrill read on, somewhat hast- 
 ily. " ' I take my pen in hand to send you an answer 
 quick. We are all making happy to have your kind 
 letter. We all feel very bad as you cannot any more 
 come to our house. We all miss you. Rosa Maria's 
 fever is fierce. We are worried about her, but we 
 say a nuovena to the Blessed Virgin and she will get 
 well. She is crying for you and says ' feel, feel ' so 
 pitiful. I wish you could come, but we know you 
 can not when your stepmother says no you cannot. 
 I am sorry you have a stepmother, my poor friend. 
 I wish you had a real mother like mine. Tonio told 
 us what you said on St. Cristofo's ferry of wanting 
 a real mother. We all cried. We will pray for 
 you in the nuovena to the Blessed Virgin to get a real 
 mother so you can come to see us once more. With 
 Respect and the Blessing of God, I remain, 
 " ' Your obedient Servant, 
 " * ANNTJNCIATA BEETOLLOTTI.' ' 
 
 The reading was finished. Mrs. Merrill's voice 
 had evenly held. She folded the pages, returned 
 them to the envelope/ and handed it down to Phil. 
 Her face was entirely expressionless.
 
 A " REAL " MOTHER 283 
 
 "I I didn't say a thing ugly about you to 
 Tonio, Mother," the child stammered. " Of course, 
 any girl wants a real mother." 
 
 " That's all right, little daughter," said the other, 
 " I've not the least doubt that whatever was said was 
 entirely deserved. I am wondering now," she went 
 on, as if speaking more to herself than to Phil, " if 
 perhaps I may not be able to help Annunciata to 
 receive an answer to her prayer ? " Then she looked 
 full at the girl by her knee. " Do you think, Phil ? " 
 she asked, almost shyly, " that you could make a 
 ' real ' mother out of me ? " 
 
 Phil stared. " But my real one's in heaven ! " 
 
 " I know it, and your ' real ' father, too. 
 There's just you and Edgar and me left together on 
 earth. Don't you think, for the sake of those 
 blessed ones up above, we should learn to love each 
 other dearly ? " 
 
 Still Philomel gazed. She could not entirely be- 
 lieve what was happening. " Oh, Mother," she 
 whispered at last, in a voice full of reverence, " your 
 eyes look like Uncle John's eyes when they're out on 
 the far, shining water. Do you believe that my fa- 
 ther and my real angel mother are listening to us 
 right now ? For I do. I just know it ! " 
 
 With a cry the mother stooped over, dragging the 
 child upward, and close to her breast. The two 
 clung together, swaying and sobbing aloud. In the 
 healing floods drenching each cheek, was the baptism 
 of a true newness of life. 
 
 " Oh, dear little Phil," sighed the other, when the
 
 284 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 first storm of emotion was spent, "it is not so much 
 that you've found a mother as that I've won a real 
 little daughter straight down from heaven! Oh, 
 how blind, how incredibly blind and narrow I've 
 been," she mused sadly. " How mistaken with Ed- 
 gar ; and to think that most of my life has been spent 
 among children, and I've never known one, no, not 
 one, not even my own idolized boy." 
 
 Phil, with just the least hint of timidity, put her 
 hand to her mother's wet cheek, and turned it about 
 to her own. " Now, Mother," she smiled through 
 her tears, " you mustn't look sorry like that. We 
 ain't any of us going to be sorry any more, not you 
 or me, or even Edgar. Listen ! " she cried, her head 
 lifting, " I hear Edgar now. He's woke up. He is 
 calling for both of us. Don't you hear, it's my own 
 little brother that's calling? We must go to him 
 quick. Come, Mother, real Mother, let's run ! "
 
 " Come, Mother, real Mother, let's run! " l'ag<
 
 CHAPTEE TWENTY-FIVE 
 
 IN WHICH CONSTANTLY GETS EVEN 
 
 NEXT morning Phil, in her bed, neither sleep- 
 ing nor waking, felt her drowsy young spirit 
 being led back to daily affairs by the song of a robin 
 perched in the apple tree nearest her window. 
 " Phil-o-mel ! Phil-o-mel ! " he was calling, on per- 
 haps just such a note as the precious brown baby next 
 door had called out " Feel ! " 
 
 From across the bare hallway Rebecca could be 
 heard moving about her small room. A knock came 
 to Phil's door. " Time to tumble outer that bed, 
 little Miss Sleepy," a pleasant voice said. 
 
 " All right, Becky. The robin has just been tell- 
 ing me so." 
 
 What magic had happened to change the whole 
 house from a prison of gloom to what Phil now 
 thought of as a real, sure-enough home? 
 
 In the breakfast room Mrs. Merrill held out wel- 
 coming hands. 
 
 " How is Edgar ? " was the first question on Phil's 
 lips. 
 
 " Nicely. He couldn't be doing better. I shall 
 let him sit up a few hours this forenoon," was the 
 mother's happy reply.
 
 286 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 The once hated duty of tidying her room was ac- 
 complished this morning by Phil with singing, 
 
 " A merry heart goes all the day, 
 Your sad one tires a mile-a," 
 
 she carolled. 
 
 The next step was to be a visit to the invalid, that 
 is, if the little boy were yet ready to receive her. 
 She tapped softly on the door. Mrs. Merrill, open- 
 ing it by an inch, gave a gesture of silence, and then, 
 emerging, led Phil a short distance down the hallway. 
 Smiling down, the mother said, " Phil, there is an er- 
 rand I would like you to do for me." 
 
 "Yes, Mother, anything you want," was the in- 
 stantaneous reply. 
 
 " Do you remember how Edgar loved that calves'- 
 foot jelly last night ? " the speaker pursued, her eyes 
 dancing. 
 
 " Why, of course. I licked the bowl for him, it 
 was so good. And he let me," answered the child, 
 marvelling greatly what her stepmother's errand could 
 have to do with an invalid's delicacies. 
 
 " Rebecca happened to make an extra bowl of it, 
 and I thought that maybe your sick little friends over 
 next door " 
 
 The speech got no further. Two childish arms 
 were thrown about Mrs. Merrill's slim waist, and be- 
 gan tightening with convulsive fervor. 
 
 " You're going to let me go over, to walk right 
 in at their gate like a lady, as Tonio said ? You're 
 going to send the sick ones some of Edgar's lovely
 
 CONSTANTIA GETS EVEN 287 
 
 jelly? Oh, Mother, it's too heavenly sweet to be 
 true!" 
 
 " But it is true. Doctor Evans assures me that 
 there is no risk whatever in letting you go. Now 
 come with me down to the pantry, while I tie up the 
 bowl in a napkin, and make it look neat. I'll de- 
 clare," Mrs. Merrill asserted as the two, arm in arm, 
 made their way down, " I am getting as indignant as 
 you and Rebecca, at the thought of those industrious 
 children being driven away from their home." 
 
 Phil paused on the stair, to make the coming state- 
 ment more impressive, " Now don't you worry about 
 that for a minute," she said earnestly. " They are 
 not going to be driven away." 
 
 Mrs. Merrill displayed both interest and astonish- 
 ment. " Why, Philomel, what can you mean ? The 
 Hopkinses are not the kind to act generously. Have 
 you heard anything new ? " 
 
 " Nome, not yet ! " Phil replied in the same tone 
 of perfect assurance. " But yesterday down at the 
 boat house, me and Ma Comfort and Pa, we just got 
 down on our marrow-bones and told God the whole 
 business. All three of us prayed, and we kept at it 
 so long and so loud that God couldn't help hear- 
 ing us, not even if He put both hands up over His 
 ears." 
 
 " Oh," murmured the other. " And so this is why 
 we need not worry ! Well, who knows ! " she ex- 
 claimed, her face touched with a gleam of the child's 
 fervor. " You are right to believe that God can and 
 will help your friends, dear little daughter."
 
 288 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 To herself Mrs. Merrill was thinking, " If the 
 prayers of the righteous avail, surely a loving Father 
 leaned close to those three sweet-hearted children." 
 
 The bowl, covered and then pinned across with two 
 of the household's best " doilies," was set on a small 
 silver tray, and Phil bidden to start. 
 
 More overwhelmed with importance than a royal 
 nurse bearing the heir to a throne on its first out- 
 ing, the bringer of gifts paced, inch by inch, along 
 sunshine-flooded Bible Eoad. With head high, she 
 passed in at the flower-decked gate, and, between the 
 two out-rolled golden carpets of dandelions, walked 
 straight up to the cottage. 
 
 The first to see her was Annunciata. She ran for- 
 ward, her orange and blue kerchief standing out to 
 a point in the wind. " Oh, Pheelomel, mia, my 
 friend," she called softly in coming. " It is all 
 right ? She has let you ? The stepmother says you 
 can come ? " 
 
 " My sep-mother," echoed Phil proudly. " No, 
 not much. Here's some jelly for the children. It is 
 sent from my real mother to yours." With a grand 
 gesture the bowl was delivered. 
 
 The Italian girl did not need speech. Her eyes 
 of lambent thanksgiving were enough. Taking the 
 tray she sped into the house to the blue and white 
 Virgin, and set the white offering before her. 
 
 As the slender brown hands made the sign of the 
 cross, Phil instinctively copied the motions. She 
 was not able to say the queer, hurried words, all 
 broken with smiles, that poured from the Italian's
 
 red lips, but feeling too happy for silence, made up 
 her own prayer. " I thank you, dear Mrs. God, for 
 letting me have a real mother, and Rosa Maria, and 
 Annunciata, and Ma Comfort, and Uncle John, and 
 Laddie. Please make Rosa Maria get well, for Jesus 
 Christ's sake, Amen." 
 
 The jelly, being thus dedicate, was carried to the 
 delighted, vociferous Madre. After this, the next 
 great event was Phil's presentation to the Padre. 
 
 He was gaining in strength every day, Annun- 
 ciata told her. Fresh air and the love all about him 
 were making him well. 
 
 Phil was led to the invalid's throne at the back of 
 the house, just under the green arbor of dish-rag 
 gourd vines. The one rocking chair was set out, and 
 covered with the best piecework quilt. The arbor, 
 all flaunting on top with wide yellow blossoms, was 
 hung underneath in heavy fruit that looked tempt- 
 ingly like very fat cucumbers. 
 
 Mr. Bertollotti nodded, with the adored Rosa 
 Maria in his lap. He seemed to Phil's shrinking 
 eyes a skeleton, swathed in thick yellow flesh. She 
 knelt by the baby. Her heart ached as she saw how 
 the fever had ravaged the tiny brown face. The 
 soft cheeks were thinner, and the dimples came slowly 
 to Phil's loving cry, " Oh, Rosa Maria, it is Phil, 
 Philomel, that just wor-ships you! Won't you 
 look at me, darling ? Won't you call me, ' Feel ! 
 Feel!'?" 
 
 But the hot face was hid against " Padre," and 
 drowsy lids veiled the bright eyes.
 
 290 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 " Never min', leetle Mees," smiled the sick father 
 tenderly. " She is bad-a now, yes ! But the good 
 God will make-a our Rosa Maria soon well." 
 
 Just inside the door of the kitchen on a bit of old 
 rug, Lucia and Hugo proudly displayed to each other 
 their various patches of red. Hugo pointed to his 
 with the end of a large piece of corn bread which 
 Phil's keen eyes knew at once for a part of a gener- 
 ous pan baked yesterday in her own kitchen. 
 
 Jo and Tony, impervious to measles, weeded lettuce 
 near by. As Phil rose from her knees by the baby, 
 Tonio, looking around, remarked grinning, " It was 
 nix on de ferry dis time, warn't it, Phil? I seen 
 you turn in at de gate, like a lady." 
 
 Shy, silent little Jo raised his face for a welcom- 
 ing smile but, as usual, said nothing. Phil, return- 
 ing the smile, had a thought that had flashed to her 
 many times during the summer, " Why is it that 
 Italians have so much more sweetness and sunshine 
 in their faces than we ! " 
 
 Though happy to see her among them once more, 
 neither young worker showed the least inclination 
 to detain Phil in converse, so the girl, giving voice 
 to the first question that entered her mind, inquired, 
 " Where's Cris ? I thought that he came every Sat- 
 urday ? " 
 
 " He does, but not early as dis," replied Tonio 
 from the lettuce. " Cris don't come till de sun's 
 shinin' full in de cave," he went on, his tumbled 
 dark head lifting. " Dat old hole dat we dug is a 
 fake," he pronounced, scowling toward it. " De
 
 CONSTANTIA GETS EVEN 291 
 
 sides is all soft, an' so leaky we dassent go inside any 
 more." 
 
 " And the sun isn't touching it yet," complained 
 Phil. " It's just slanting sidewise across it. But 
 those marigolds, Tonio, on the bank all around it, 
 the ones that we planted, aren't they too perfectly 
 lovely?" 
 
 " They're sure fine ! " nodded the boy ; then delib- 
 erately turning his face to the sun, he regarded that 
 orb through a network of heavy black lashes, and re- 
 marked with decision, " It'll be four hours yit before 
 Cris kin git here." 
 
 At that instant Phil saw a familiar gray cap mov- 
 ing toward them outside the leafy, green fence. Her 
 gay laughter tinkled. " Will it though, Mister smart- 
 Aleck Tony! Then who's that coming in through 
 the gate ? " 
 
 "Hully Gee!" Tonio whistled. "It's old Cris, 
 right enough! Now what in de blazes kin er hap- 
 pened, to bring him home early as dis ? " 
 
 At her first clear look into his face Phil's heart 
 told her why Cris was so early to-day. Cris knew! 
 
 Jo and Tonio, scattering rapture, ran past her to 
 welcome their brother. Phil followed , reluctant, 
 yet somehow impelled to press on. The blithe tumult 
 had roused the sick baby. She cried out, the 
 " weak, human cry " of Phil's lambkins, and, strug- 
 gling upward, her arms toward Cris lisped, " Kiss ! 
 Kiss ! " and strove hard to dimple. 
 
 The big brother leaned down and took her. For 
 a moment his cheek was hid deep in the baby's thick
 
 292 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 hair. Phil crept closer, her eyes raised imploringly. 
 The boy caught the look, and he whispered, " You 
 know, then ? You've heard ? " 
 
 The girl could not speak. She swallowed hard, 
 and her bent head gave Cris the answer. 
 
 " I'm kinder glad that you know," the low whisper 
 continued. " I've got to tell sister, and you can help 
 me. Get her over to the ferry, please, Phil. I don't 
 want the others to hear yet. I'm goin' to fight to the 
 death, if they's any use fightin'. But I need An- 
 nunciata. Get her over, at the far end of the plank, 
 jest as quick as you can." 
 
 " Yes, yes, Cris. I'll go now," said Phil breath- 
 lessly, and hurried indoors. 
 
 Annunciata was not in the house. The Madre, 
 gesticulating, let Phil understand that the girl had 
 gone out in order to gather some pole-beans for din- 
 ner. 
 
 Phil ran back into the garden. Among slim, 
 pointed leaf -tents, hung thick with pods of green len- 
 tils, Annunciata, singing in a low, happy voice, was 
 rapidly filling her bucket. 
 
 As Phil neared the singer, Constantia's voice, from 
 the embankment above, called shrilly, " I see all you 
 beggars down there together ! You're no better than 
 one of them, too, Miss Phil Merrill. I wouldn't play 
 with you now. Just watch me fix the whole lot of 
 you ! I've begun it already ! " 
 
 Phil, after a startled glance upward, turned away. 
 In a crisis like this, the Hopkins girl wasn't worthy of 
 notice.
 
 CONSTANTIA GETS EVEN 293 
 
 " Come, 'Nunciata," Phil said gently. " Put the 
 old bucket down. Beans don't matter. Cris has 
 something he must tell you over there at the ferry. 
 He says to come quick." 
 
 Annunciata, without question or comment, obeyed. 
 Her brother stood motionless at the far end of the 
 board. His lids were shut close, and about his deli- 
 cate mouth showed a circle of greenish-blue white- 
 ness. There was something dreadful in his rigid, 
 mute suffering. 
 
 As the two neared him, he opened dark, sunken 
 eyes. " You, you tell her, Miss Phil," he said 
 hoarsely. " Somehow I can't speak it." 
 
 Phil crouched back with her face in her hands. 
 " Oh, Cris ! Please don't ask me ! I can't. I just 
 can't!" 
 
 Annunciata's parted lips blanched with terror. 
 " But some one must tell me ! Oh, Mother of God ! 
 Don't keep me waiting like this! Have you lost 
 your job, Cristofo mio? " 
 
 Cris gave a low, strangled cry meant for derision. 
 " Lost my job ! That would be somethin' to laugh 
 at, if losin' my job was all. I guess that's gone, too, 
 though, for I run off without askin' the boss might I. 
 No, the trouble is Ferris, the agent as begged us 
 to come to this house. He was at the store early this 
 mornin', lookin' me up. Ferris says Oh, my 
 God ! " the boy shuddered. " I can't speak the words. 
 I'm like Phil, I just can't ! " 
 
 Annunciata caught the name Ferris. " Oh, I 
 think that I know! He is asking us now a bigger
 
 294 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 rent, yes ? Is it rent that is bringing us sorrow, my 
 brother ? " 
 
 Cris shook his head. " No, not rent. I offered 
 him that, and a good one. He won't take it. He 
 says that he can't. We must clear out of here, bag 
 an' baggage. That man Hopkins next door, curse 
 him! got a legal injunction against us for pests! 
 We must go! After all we have worked for and 
 done, the pond, and the house and the garden, 
 we are driven away now like so many cattle. Ferris 
 says we ain't got a chanst." 
 
 For a moment Annunciata stood silent. Phil, 
 softly at first, began crying, her face hidden on the 
 Italian girl's breast. As the sobbing grew louder, 
 the other girl trembled, and then broke into hysterical 
 tears. " It cannot be true," she protested. " The 
 Virgin will not let it be true ; she will help us ! Oh, 
 poor Padre, poor, poor happy children ! " 
 
 The tall boy, unable to witness this grief, turned 
 away. Unseeing, his eyes went out over the marsh 
 lands. 
 
 The two weeping girls caught themselves up at his 
 sharp cry. " Stop, you Hopkins kid, you ! Are you 
 crazy ? Leave that top log alone. Gosh, it's startin' ! 
 You'll fall in and be drowned when it breaks! 
 Get back while you can. Oh, you fool!" he 
 screamed in a frenzy. " No use runnin' now ; it's too 
 late!" 
 
 Cris crashed down through the bushes, and then, 
 with the speed of a four-footed wild thing, began 
 mounting the fast-falling bank.
 
 CONSTANTIA GETS EVEN 295 
 
 Overhead, white-frocked Constantia, laughing to 
 see the log move, tossed her arms and danced blithely. 
 " I've done it, you Dagoes ! " she exulted. " I said 
 I'd get even. Now I have ! " 
 
 The top log slipped downward in horrible silence. 
 Those beneath bulged and pushed in their bedding of 
 clay. 
 
 Cris sent a last frightened look to the ferry. 
 " Eun, Phil, you and sister," he shouted. " Run 
 quick for your lives; the whole pond is comin'. 
 Go up into the orchard. Keep runnin'. Don't 
 stop!" 
 
 The dam gave with a roar as of cataracts. The 
 first shock of swirling red water caught Cris full in 
 the chest, lifting and hurling him backwards. 
 
 As he knew himself to be passing beneath the low- 
 hanging bough of the apple tree, he leaped up, caught 
 a small limb, and hung there. 
 
 On the crest of the flood a thing of drenched white- 
 ness, like a big flower snapped short at the stem, rose, 
 eddied, and bobbed in the vortex. Cris' eyes never 
 left it. Flinging his long frame to one side in the 
 water, he managed to check its mad rush. 
 
 Constantia, fighting desperately, and screaming as 
 well as she could with her mouth full of water, 
 clutched and held to his knees. Her weight, added 
 to his, tore the twig from its branch, and both, inter- 
 twined, went down on the furious drive. 
 
 First to reach the two motionless bodies was Tonio. 
 They had been tossed, beaten, and hurtled through
 
 296 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 the wreck of the fence, far out to the other side of 
 the road and the culvert, and beyond to the level 
 marsh lands that followed the valley for miles. 
 
 As if in a last spume of anger, the whirlpool, in 
 crashing along, had thrown the two up and aside 
 to the face of a boulder. 
 
 Cris' shirt had been torn nearly away. His slender 
 brown throat was stretched backwards, and his hair, 
 closely flattened, was tangled in silvery lichens. His 
 beautiful face, smiling, peaceful, lay stark in the 
 sunlight. From a wet mat of grasses nearby gleamed 
 the head of the simpering Clytie. Her brow was no 
 paler than his. Curled up close against the boy's 
 breast, unhurt, lay Constantia Hopkins. 
 
 The whole terrified neighborhood gathered. Mr. 
 Hopkins, while running, had the presence of mind 
 to call back to his chauffeur that the car would be 
 needed. 
 
 As the two Hopkins, the father and mother, closely 
 followed by the trained nurse, Miss McCracken, 
 splashed down through the mud, the others already 
 assembled, Mrs. Merrill, Kebecca, Phil, and all the 
 Bertollottis except the Padre and Eosa Maria, in- 
 stinctively made way. 
 
 The great motor ploughed in through the marsh 
 growth. " Put them both in the car, Walter," di- 
 rected Mr. Hopkins. " Here, Miss McCracken and 
 I will help to lift them." 
 
 Mrs. Hopkins, her face like a fury, stepped for- 
 ward. " Lift Constantia, you mean," she corrected. 
 " There is no room for her murderer in my house !
 
 CONSTANTIA GETS EVEN 297 
 
 The Italians undermined our pond for revenge. It's 
 just like them. They were always threatening Con- 
 stantia. It will serve them entirely right if this boy 
 has destroyed himself." 
 
 " Walter ! You heard what I said," reiterated 
 Mr. Hopkins ; then to his wife he said sternly, " It is 
 my house, Harriet, please remember; and whatever 
 the Italians have done, this boy here has risked his 
 own life in order to save our child." 
 
 " More than risked it, I fear," said Miss Mc- 
 Cracken sadly, as she worked her deft hands under 
 Cristofo's shoulders. " His spine must have struck 
 at full length on this rock. It is that, and the way 
 his arms kept their tight hold of Constantia, that 
 has saved your little girl's life." 
 
 When the Hopkins' home was reached, the trained 
 nurse directed that Cristofo should be taken into her 
 room. After that, while Walter was speeding to find 
 Doctor Evans, all her skill and attention must be 
 given to Constantia. 
 
 When the doctor arrived, his verdict agreed pre- 
 cisely with that of the nurse. " Your daughter has 
 not had a scratch," he told Mr. Hopkins. " The Ital- 
 ian boy saved her. She'll be spry as a cricket by 
 morning. But the lad, " the speaker's gray head 
 was shaken. " That blow on his spine was a terror. 
 Well, we can't be sure yet. We shall see ! " 
 
 In the great pink and gilt chamber of her parents, 
 Constantia, attired in an exquisite negligee of rose- 
 colored silk, lay in state. 
 
 She was " coming to " rapidly. Now and then a
 
 298 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 whiff of sal volatile, or a swift readjustment of hot- 
 water bottles, were all that was needed. 
 
 The two Hopkins bent over the bed, their eyes lit- 
 erally glued to the delicate face. They watched, as 
 a chemist might watch some new, subtle experiment, 
 for the first tinge of blood in her lips. 
 
 It came slowly. Her eyes tried to open, at which 
 Mrs. Hopkins broke into loud sobs of joy. The fa- 
 ther drew up his shoulders, and sent a bright look 
 to the trained nurse. 
 
 "What'd I tell you?" triumphed the doctor. 
 " Not a scratch ! Only the shock and the scare ! " 
 
 " Thank God, but oh, what a narrow escape," 
 cried the mother. Looking around to her husband, 
 she added, " It was a good day's work, Jim Hopkins, 
 when we managed to get through that injunction 
 against the Italians. The beggars, the vermin! 
 You needn't plead for them a moment longer after 
 this!" 
 
 " I suppose you are right," admitted the husband. 
 " They have proved themselves dangerous neighbors." 
 
 " What makes you think, Hopkins," Doctor Evans 
 asked bluntly, " that the Italians broke down your 
 pond?" 
 
 " Think ! " flashed Mrs. Hopkins angrily. " Who 
 else could it have been? They knew they had to 
 go, and this was their way of getting even ! " 
 
 From the bed came a murmur. " Yes, Mam-ma, 
 I got even. They're all drowned." 
 
 Mrs. Hopkins heard only the last word. She hur- 
 ried to her daughter. " No, my darling, my pet,
 
 CONSTANTIA GETS EVEN 299 
 
 my one treasure, " she cried. " You're not 
 drowned. You're safe home in Mam-ma's big bed. 
 Those dreadful Italians tried to drown you, but they 
 didn't succeed." 
 
 Constantia struggled to sit upright. Mrs. Hop- 
 kins put a loving arms at her back. 
 
 " Are you able to tell mother yet ? " she suggested, 
 with a glance at her husband, " just how the Italians 
 broke the dam. Papa and I should know at once." 
 
 " The Italians ! " echoed Constantia. " It wasn't 
 any Italians. It was me ! I've been working at that 
 top log all summer. I said I would drown the whole 
 lot, and Phil Merrill too, 'cause she won't play with 
 me. I have done it all right ! Aren't you glad that 
 I've done it, Mam-ma ? " 
 
 As the vibrant young voice died away, the big 
 room, so peaceful a moment before, seemed to fill with 
 a curious silence. Miss McCracken's eyes turned to 
 the window. Doctor Evans, nervously clearing his 
 throat, pulled out his watch and pretended to look 
 at the time. Mrs. Hopkins was speechless, but her 
 husband, breaking the void with a short, angry laugh, 
 cried out to the doctor, " Well, Evans, this puts the 
 shoe on the other foot, doesn't it ? Guess I'd better 
 be seeing what can be done for the boy."
 
 FINALE 
 
 Cris, after a long, dreary fight with an illness that 
 threatened his bruised spine, began a slow recovery. 
 His convalescence was not in the flower-bright cot- 
 tage, but here in the guest-room of the Hopkins' 
 great home. 
 
 The brown brothers and sisters, as well as the 
 Madre, came and went at their will. They were 
 happy, and more than contented, even though the 
 beautiful pond and a large part of the garden had 
 been washed quite away; for the good, kind Mr. 
 Hopkins had promised that the moment autumn drew 
 from the cottage its mantle of verdure, a new mod- 
 ern house would be built, a permanent dwelling 
 which no Ferris would ever come near. 
 
 Mr. Bertollotti, now almost fat in his fully re- 
 stored health, has been asked to take charge of the 
 Hopkins' big grounds as head gardener. 
 
 " When those youngsters of yours are not at school, 
 Bertolotti," Mr. Hopkins had said, " they'll be 
 given good wages to help you. Such workers are rare 
 in this land." 
 
 Ma Comfort, her feud with Mis' Hopkins forgot- 
 ten, came every day to see Cris. " Don't talk to me 
 any more of your Bible St. Christofer," Ma had cried. 
 " Why, my lad, compared to what you has done,
 
 FINALE 301 
 
 that old saint ain't no more than a swimmin' tad- 
 pole!" 
 
 The good cheer she brought with her, the laughter, 
 the quaint, homely discourse, soon drew the whole 
 household to listen. 
 
 Pa came too, but only at dusk, and invariably for 
 a few moments only. Laddie, on such visits was al- 
 ways at heel, and, needless to say, Laddie's conduct 
 in the sick room was that of a gentleman. 
 
 Once, when the old sailorman had left Cris, the 
 boy, staring out into vanishing twiKght, made a soft, 
 spoken compact with good. " Jest because there's a 
 man in this America like Pa Giddings," Cris said, 
 " it's up to me, sure, to try to be like him." 
 
 Each and all learned, of course, to love gentle 
 Annunciata. Kow, out of sheer gratitude she was 
 making for her loved friend, Mis' Hopkins, the big- 
 gest and most wonderful piece of filet her skilful 
 hands had ever attempted. 
 
 Mr. Hopkins and also Constantia, for some rea- 
 sons known to themselves, had taken a special fancy 
 to shy, willing Lucia, and if Mrs. Hopkins had not 
 prevented, most of Constantia's new clothes would 
 have decked Lucia's small body. 
 
 As for Rosa Maria, the whole house went down 
 on its knees. She became so petted and spoiled that 
 one day the Madre, regarding the mite with some- 
 thing approaching resentment, said to the husband, 
 near at hand, " Rosa Maria no longer can be called 
 our bambino,. Since the pink coral necklace and the 
 earrings the kind Mrs. Hopkins has given, why, the
 
 302 SUNSHINE BEGGARS 
 
 child puts on airs even to me, her own mother ! She 
 will let no one kiss her at all, until paid first with 
 dulces. It is not to be borne ! " 
 
 " Truly so, Flora mia" smiled the other and, like 
 her, spoke in their beloved " Italiano." " But what 
 is to be done? All caress her, and yield to her 
 wishes." 
 
 For answer the wife went up closer. One arm 
 stole about his plump neck. " Just this, my Enrico," 
 she murmured, " it has been in my heart all day 
 long. Much is given, much joy has the good Fa- 
 ther brought us, and yet one thing more is the 
 small house in Bible Road needing." 
 
 Now Enrico knew. The dark cheeks were pressed 
 close together. " A 'bambino, 3 ' he whispered, " that 
 dearest of all gifts from God, another bambino." 
 
 THE END
 
 NON-REFERT 
 
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 The Most Lovable Heroine in Modern Fiction 
 
 TRUTH DEXTER 
 
 By SIDNEY McCALL 
 Author of " The Breath of the Gods " 
 
 New Illustrated Edition, with 8 full- page pictures by Alice 
 
 Barber Stephens and title-page vignette by 
 
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 12rao. Decorated cloth, $1.35 net 
 
 A novel of united North and South of rare power and 
 absorbing interest. It is but fair to say that not one of 
 the novels which appeared last year on either side of the 
 Atlantic (including those from the pen of the most girled 
 writers) was superior to this in artistic quality, dramatic 
 power, and human interest combined. We do not hope to 
 see it surpassed, even if equalled. Philadelphia Telegraph. 
 
 Exceptionally clever and brilliant, it has what are rarely 
 found with these dazzling qualities, delicacy and genuine 
 sentiment. Brooklyn Times. 
 
 A fine, sweet and strong American romance. New York 
 World. 
 
 I don't know how to praise it enough. I can't recall any 
 novel which has interested me so absorbingly for years. 
 It is a matchless book ! Louise Chandler Moulton. 
 
 The author at once takes place among the foremost 
 novelists of the day. Boston Transcript. 
 
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