XIV. THEODORE GIVES CARROTS A CHANCE
Theodore dreaded to go home that night. After his work was done hewent to a restaurant for supper and then strolled on to the Common.It was cool and pleasant there under the wide-spreading trees, and hesat down on one of the benches and wondered what Nan was doing thenand how Little Brother had borne the long hours of travel.
When it was quite dark he went slowly homeward. Mrs. Hunt's doorstood open and he stopped to get the key which Nan was to leave therefor him. Jimmy sprang up and brought it to him, and Mrs. Hunt gave hima kind word or two and asked him to come in and sit awhile, but hesaid he was tired, and taking the key, he crossed the hall andunlocked Nan's door. As he closed it behind him he gave a littlestart, for he saw something move over by the window. The next instanthe realised that it was only Nan's chair which had rocked a littlefrom the jar of the closing door. The room was unlighted except forthe faint glimmer near the open windows.
As Theo sat down in the rocking-chair, a wave of loneliness andhomesickness swept over him. Nan and Little Brother had made all thehome feeling he had ever known, and never before had he felt soabsolutely alone and friendless as he did to-night.
Tag seemed to share the feeling too. He went sniffing about the room,evidently searching for the two who were gone, and finally, with along breath like a sigh, he dropped down beside the rocking-chair andrubbed his head against his master's hand with a low, troubled whine.Theodore patted the rough head as he said,
"Pretty lonesome, ain't it, old fellow?" and Tag rapped the floor withhis tail and whined again.
For a long time the boy sat there gravely thinking. At last, with asigh, he said to himself, "Might's well go to bed. Don't feel likedoin' anything to-night."
He was used to undressing in the dark and he did not light the lamp,but as he was about to get into bed his hand touched something smoothand stiff that was lying on the pillow.
"It's a letter," he exclaimed, wonderingly, and he hastened to lightthe lamp.
"Oh!" he cried, breathlessly, as he saw the bold, firmhandwriting. "It's from the bishop."
His cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining and his fingers fairlyshaking with excitement as he held the letter carefully in his hands,reading and rereading the address.
"THEODORE BRYAN,Care of MRS. MARTIN."
He thought how many times he had sat beside the bishop's desk andwatched the pen travelling so rapidly across the paper. Theodore wouldhave known _that_ writing anywhere.
For a long time he did not open the letter. It was happiness enough toknow that it was there in his hands, the first letter he had everreceived. And to think that the bishop should have written it--tohim, Theodore Bryan! It was a pity that the bishop could not have seenthe boy's face as he stood looking with glowing eyes at the envelope.
At last he opened it and began to read the letter. It was a long one,and as the boy read on and on, his breath came quicker and his eyesgrew dim, and when he had finished it his cheeks were wet, but he didnot know it. He was not thinking of himself. There were many who wouldhave given much for a letter from the bishop, but surely none couldhave appreciated one more than did the lonely boy who stood there thatnight in the dimly-lighted room poring over those closely writtenpages. Again and again he read the whole letter, and many times heread over one passage until the words were written in letters of lighton his heart. When at last he went to bed it was to lie awake forhours with the letter held tightly in his hand, while he repeated tohimself those words that he was to remember as long as he lived.
"Mrs. Martin writes me that you are anxious to be assured of myforgiveness. My dear boy, if you have ever wronged me I forgive you asfreely and fully as I hope for forgiveness myself; but, Theodore, hadyou wronged me ever so deeply, it would all be blotted out by the joyit gives me to know that you are a soldier of the Cross. I know thatyou will be a faithful soldier--loyal even unto death--and may thegreat Captain whom we both serve, have you ever in His holy keeping."
Over and over the boy repeated these words as he lay sleepless, butfull of deep happiness and peace. "Whom we both serve." The wise andholy bishop and he, a poor ignorant street boy, were soldiers nowunder the one great Captain. Faithful and loyal even unto death? Ahyes, Theodore pledged himself anew to such service in the watches ofthat night.
Nevertheless, the letter had brought to the boy a freshdisappointment, for it informed him that the bishop had been ill eversince he left the city, and that it had been decided that he shouldremain away until October.
"Five months longer before I can see him," Theodore thoughtsorrowfully, yet he could not grieve as he had done before. It almostseemed as if he could feel the bishop's hand actually resting upon hishead, and see the kind eyes looking down into his. The boy had notbeen so happy since he left the bishop's house as he was on this nightwhen he had expected to be so lonely and miserable.
"Oh if Nan only knew, how glad she would be," he thought more thanonce.
He slept at last with the letter clutched tightly in his hand, and hisfingers had not loosed their hold when he awoke the next morning, norhad the joy died out of his heart. His thoughts were very busy as hedressed, and suddenly he stopped short, with one shoe on and the otherin his hand.
"That's it!" he cried aloud. "That's what the bishop meant thatSunday! 'Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price.' The greatCaptain's bought me for one of His soldiers, an' I've got to do whatHe says. I never knew before just what that meant, but I do now." Thenhe added, softly, "But I want to do what He says, anyhow."
Going forth in this spirit to his work, Theodore could hardly fail tofind something to do for his Captain.
Mrs. Hunt had decided to take up the work that Nan had been doing, andto furnish supplies for the stand. She had the big basket all readywhen Theodore came from his room, and he and Jimmy set off with it forthe stand where both the boys now took their breakfasts.
Theodore was unusually quiet and thoughtful, and there was somethingin his face that silenced Jimmy's lively tongue that morning. The twoboys had just gotten their stand ready for business, when Theodoreexclaimed, eagerly,
"There he is now!" and darted off.
Jimmy looked after him in wonder that turned to indignation, as he sawTheo lay a detaining hand on the ragged jacket of Carrots, who wasslouching aimlessly along the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets,and, after a little talk with him, bring him back to the stand.
"Well now, I like that!" muttered Jimmy under his breath. He glowereddarkly at Carrots as Theo drew him up to the stand, but Theodorelooked into Jimmy's face with a strange light in his eyes, as hefilled a plate for Carrots and poured him out a cup of coffee.
"Sh'ld think you'd better wait till he'd paid for what he jagged herethat last time," Jimmy muttered, with a scowling glance at theculprit.
Carrots, overhearing the remark, grinned, and then winked impudentlyat Jimmy, while he disposed with all speed of the contents of theplate that Theodore had set before him. Once or twice he cast apuzzled glance at the latter as if trying to discover some hiddenmotive.
"Had 'nough?" Theo questioned, when plate and cup were empty.
"'Spect I might get outside of one or two o' them doughnuts," Carrotsanswered, with another wink at Jimmy's clouded face.
When the doughnuts also had disappeared, Theo said, "Come along a bitwith me, Carrots," and the two walked off together, leaving Jimmy forthe first time savagely angry with his friend Theodore.
Carrots slouched along at Theo's side, with his narrow eyes rovingsuspiciously from side to side in search of a possible policeman, intowhose hands he suspected that his companion might be scheming todeliver him. He could not conceive the possibility of anybody'sfailing to avenge a wrong if he had the chance.
"Carrots," began Theodore, "where do you sleep?"
"Can't catch me that way," thought Carrots to himself, as he answeredcarelessly, "Oh anywheres 't I happen ter find myself when I'msleepy."
"No reg'lar place--no home?" ques
tioned Theo.
"Nope."
"Well, I've paid rent up to the end of the month for the room I'vebeen sleepin' in, an' I shan't use it any more. You can sleep therefor nothin' for the next week if you like."
Carrots stopped short and gazed at his companion with his tongue inhis cheek.
"Think I'm a fool?" he asked, shortly.
"I do' know whether ye are or not. 'Seems to me you will be 'f ye say'no' to my offer," and Theo looked straight into the shifty eyes ofhis companion.
That straightforward look puzzled Carrots. It was more convincing thanany words. He studied Theo's face for a moment, then he burst out,"What's your game, anyhow, Tode Bryan?"
"Carrots," exclaimed Theo, earnestly, "there's no game at all aboutit. I've got the room, an' I don't need it, 'cause I've taken anotherone. You're welcome to use this till the month's up. Now, what d'yesay? Will ye take it or leave it?"
"I'll--take--it," rejoined Carrots, slowly.
"All right." Theo gave him the number, adding, "Come to my roomanytime 'fore ten for the key."
Then he hurried on, leaving Carrots in a maze of wonder, doubt andindecision, for he could not yet believe that Theo meant honestly byhim.
As for Theo, he whistled cheerily as he hastened on, for he felt thathe had been doing a bit of his Captain's business. He was not in theleast deceived. He knew that Carrots was a "bad lot," as he expressedit, but he said to himself, "I was a bad lot, too, not so very longago, an' I'll see if I can't do something for Carrots while I'ma-huntin' for that Jack Finney."
Jimmy Hunt was on the lookout for Theodore that evening, and pouncedupon him the moment he appeared. Jimmy's face was still clouded, andhe made no response to his friend's cheery greeting. "I say, Theo," hebegan, "I'd like to know what you meant by it, anyhow."
"What's the trouble, Jimmy? What do you mean?"
"What _d'you_ mean by luggin' that thievin', sarcy Carrots overt' the stand this mornin' an' stuffin' him with grub, an' never askin'him for a red cent?" Jimmy spoke in a deeply aggrieved tone.
"You won't lose anything by it, Jim. That comes out o' my share of theprofits," Theo answered, quickly.
"'Tain't that," responded Jimmy, hastily. "I wouldn't 'a' minded if ithad been any other feller but him. Say, Theo, what did make ye do itanyhow? Think ye might tell me that."
Theodore looked down into the face lifted to his, half curiously, halfimpatiently. "Jimmy," he said, gravely, "wouldn't you be glad ifsomebody would lend a hand to Dick and help him make a man ofhimself?"
Jimmy flushed. He was ashamed of his brother and mortified by Dick'sevil reputation.
"'Course," he answered, shortly, dropping his eyes.
"Well, Jimmy, I'd help Dick if I could, an' there's another fellerI've been huntin' for ever so long. 'Seem's if I can't find himanywheres, an' so till I _do_ find him, I'm a-goin' to try topull Carrots up 'stead of him."
"Pull Carrots up!" echoed Jimmy, scornfully. "Tode, you must be softif you expect to make anything out o' such a bad lot as Carrots."
"There's a good spot in most chaps, I b'lieve, Jimmy, an' I guessthere's one in Carrots, if I can only find it. Anyhow, I'm a-goin' totry for a while."
"Huh!" growled Jimmy. He said no more, but after this he watched Theoand Carrots closely, and did a deal of earnest thinking on thesubject.
Carrots slept in Theodore's room for the next week--slipping softly upand down the stairs, with furtive, suspicious glances into every darkcorner in the halls at night, and departing in the same fashion beforeTheo was up in the morning. He uttered no word of gratitude, but Theoknew better than to expect anything of that sort.
One night when he came in, Theodore sat with his door wide open, andcalled out pleasantly,
"Come in a minute, Carrots."
The boy paused on the threshold until he had satisfied himself thatthere was no one else in the room, then he sidled in and droppedheavily on a chair.
"Wal', what's wanted?" he inquired, gruffly.
"Like to earn a little extra money to-morrow?" Theodore began.
"That depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On the kind o' work."
"Well, I should think you'd be ready for any kind of work," Theodoreremarked, with a quick glance at the ragged garments of the other.
Carrots grinned, carelessly. "Oh I ain't a swell like you," hereplied, casting, what he meant for a scornful look at the other boy'sclean outing shirt and decent suit. Theodore had reached the point nowwhere he had at least one clean shirt a week.
He ignored the remark and went on, "There's plenty of fellers thatwould be glad of this job, but I want to give you the first chance atit. Jimmy Hunt's goin' on an excursion to-morrow, an' can't run thestand. You can run it if you want to."
Carrots gazed at him with mouth and eyes wide open.
"Me?" he exclaimed, incredulously. "You mean't you'll let me runit--alone--'thout you bossin' the job?"
Theo nodded.
Carrots' mouth slowly stretched into a grin of mingled satisfactionand derision, as he exclaimed, "All right. I'm your man!"
"Then be ready to go with me at half past six," replied Theo. Then headded, "Look here--what's your real name? Tain't Carrots I know. Ifyou'll tell me what 'tis I'll call you by it."
"Do' want none o' yer callin'! Carrots's good 'nough for me, an' ifI'm suited, other folks needn't ter interfere," growled the boy, withrenewed suspicion.
"No need to get huffy 'bout it," rejoined Theodore. "It put me up apeg when folks begun to call me Theodore 'stead of Tode or Toady, an'so I thought you'd feel the same way. 'Course, if you like to beCarrots, nobody cares."
"Humph!" grunted Carrots, and departed without further discussion ofthe matter.
He was waiting in the hall when Theodore opened his door the nextmorning and assisted handily enough about carrying the big basket andarranging the stand. He did not, however, believe that Theo meant toleave him actually in charge, until he found himself establishedbehind the neat counter with fifty cents in nickels and pennies in hispocket, to make change.
"Wal', I'm blest!" he exclaimed, and then he grinned and chuckled andslapped his sides with glee, while Theodore went off, thinking tohimself,
"It's a risk, but I had to give him his chance."
Many times during that morning he thought of Carrots and wondered howhe was getting on. It was a hot day and an unusually tiresome one forTheodore, and it was later than usual when he returned to hisroom. Before he had closed the door Jimmy Hunt ran across the hallcalling out,
"Say, Theo, where's the baskets an' things?"
Theodore's heart sank, but he answered quietly, "Haven't they beenbrought back?"
"No. Who'd you get to run the stand, Theo?"
"Carrots."
"Theodore Bryan--you _didn't_!" exclaimed Jimmy, in such a tragictone, that Theo almost laughed outright. His amusement was the laststraw to Jimmy. He burst into a storm of scornful blame in the midstof which Theo quietly stepped into his room and shut the door, leavingJimmy to fume and storm as much as he chose. That brought the boy tohimself. He began to cool down and to remember, that after all, thestand belonged to Theodore, and he had a right to do as he pleasedwith it. So after standing in the hall, kicking at the banisters for awhile, to relieve his feelings, Jimmy knocked at the closed door andin response to Theo's "come in," he went in, in a somewhat calmerstate of mind.
"What you goin' to do in the mornin', Theo?" he began, in a subduedtone.
"Have you been to the stand, Jim?"
"Yes, an' that scamp after he'd sold all the stuff went to work an'auctioned off the dishes an' coffee-urn an' everything. Just skinnedthe place out slick," Jimmy burst out, indignantly. "I went 'round tosee where the baskets was, an' some fellers told me all about it. Theysaid 'twas a red-headed chap done it, but I _couldn't_ b'lieveyou'd be green 'nough to trust that Carrots. Say, Theo, did youre'ely think he'd do the square thing, by you?"
"Not much. I hoped he would an' I had to give
him a chance, Jimmy?"
"Why'd you have to?" asked Jimmy, curiously.
"Where would I be now if somebody hadn't given me a chance, Jimmy?"
"Oh, you--you ain't Carrots. You're another sort."
"Yes, I'm another sort now, but I was bad as Carrots before I met Nanan' Little Brother," answered Theo, earnestly. Then he added, "Don'tyou worry 'bout the stand. I'll go out presently an' buy what'swanted."
"An' ain't ye going to do nothin' ter that Carrots for this, neither?"inquired Jimmy, anxiously.
"No, nothing. But, Jimmy, don't fret yourself about him. If he keepson as he's been doin', he'll soon find himself locked up."
"'N' he'd oughter be too," muttered Jimmy, as he went away, leavingTheodore to think over the failure of his attempt. He was not muchsurprised, though he had not expected quite such a clean sweep onCarrots' part, and the loss was not heavy enough to embarrass him atall. At Mr. Scott's suggestion, Theo had begun to deposit his extraearnings in a savings bank and he had enough on hand to easily replacethe dishes and utensils lost, but he was disappointed anddisheartened. It seemed so useless to try to help one who would nottry to help himself. And yet he could not be quite discouraged sincehe always remembered what he himself had once been.
He went out and bought what was needed and when he came back he foundMr. Scott just turning away from his door. He hastened to unlock itand the gentleman turned back, saying,
"I'm glad you came before I had got away, Theodore, for I want to talkover that boys' club plan with you."
"I thought you'd forgot all about it," replied the boy, his facebrightening.
He had spoken to his teacher about this plan, and Mr. Scott hadanswered, "Yes, something of the sort may be done, but if I were inyour place I wouldn't be in a hurry about it," and so the matter hadbeen left.
Now Mr. Scott looked thoughtfully about the room, saying, "You mustfind this far more comfortable than the room you had before. Don'tyou sleep better here, Theo?"
"Oh, yes, I don't feel so tired in the morning."
"No, because you have the windows here and can have better air; but,Theo, do you realise how it would be if you should use this for aclub-room? Some of the boys would be here every evening, and you'dhave to have lights burning, and by the time you were ready to go tobed, the room would be very hot and stuffy--full of bad air. Besidesyou would have to be here all the time. You couldn't trust such boysin your room alone."
Theodore thought of Carrots, and his face was grave and disturbed ashe answered, slowly, "'Spect you're right, Mr. Scott, but I do hate togive up the plan."
"Perhaps we won't give it up, only change it a little. Have you everbeen in the large front room, upstairs?"
Theodore shook his head, with a look of surprise, that his teachershould know anything about the rooms upstairs.
Mr. Scott added, "Well then, suppose you come up with me now, and takea look at it. I have the key."
Wondering much, the boy followed his teacher up the stairs to a largeroom with two windows on each side.
"How would this do for your clubroom, Theodore?" Mr. Scott inquired.
"This? Oh, this would be fine--but Mr. Scott, it would cost a pilefor this."
"Rather more than for yours, of course, but now this is the way of it,Theodore. I liked your plan about the club, but I didn't like the ideaof your giving up your own room to it, so I spoke to several gentlemenof my acquaintance about the matter, and they all wanted to have ahand in it. So they each gave me a sum of money, and then Iinterviewed your landlord and rented this room. He is going to have itwhitewashed, and then we shall have the floor thoroughly scrubbed andoutside blinds put on these sunny windows. Then we shall put in sometables and chairs and some plain pine shelves for the books and papersthat we are going to collect from our friends, and if you like, someof us will give the boys a talk on current events once a week or so."
"What's current events?" interposed Theo, quickly.
"You'll soon find out. Now then, Theo, we must have somebody to takecharge of this room. Can you do it?"
"Yes, indeed."
"You know that means that you must be here every evening in the week,from half past seven to ten o'clock. You'll want to be away sometimes,Theodore."
"Yes, I s'pose I will, but I'm ready to stay here all the same untilnight school begins again."
"Very well, then we'll let it be so, and we'll try to have the roomready for our opening in a week or two--as soon as we have enoughbooks and papers to begin with." Mr. Scott locked the door as hespoke, and the two went downstairs.
Theodore's face was full of satisfaction over the promisedreading-room, but it clouded a little as his teacher said,
"You mustn't be disappointed, Theodore, if very few boys spend theirevenings in this room for a while. Most of the boys in thisneighbourhood are so used to loafing about the streets, that they likethat best, especially in hot weather, and, of course, few of them caremuch for reading. They will have to be educated up to it."
"S'pose that's so," replied the boy, thoughtfully, "but they'll likeit next winter when it's cold an' stormy outside," he added.
"Yes," assented the gentleman, adding, as he turned to depart, "Theo,Mrs. Rawson will be home to-morrow. Don't you want to come and takesupper with us, and hear what she has to say about Nan, and the littleone?"
"Oh, yes, thank you, sir," cried Theodore, with a happy smile.
"All right, then, we shall expect you," and with a pleasant"Good-night," Mr. Scott went away.
Theodore rather dreaded the supper with Mrs. Rawson, but he forgot tobe shy or ill at ease when she began to tell him about the delightfulold farmhouse, and the happy times that Nan and the baby were havingthere. She told him everything she could think of that would be ofinterest to him, and he listened to it all with an eager face, and aglad heart. If Little Brother must be far away from him, Theodore washappy in the assurance that the child was in such a beautiful place,and that already he had begun to grow stronger and brighter.