CHAPTER XXV
A BRIGHT FUTURE
That Saturday night supper at the old Corner House was rather differentfrom any that had preceded it. Frequently the Corner House girls hadcompany at this particular meal--almost always Neale, and Mr. Con Murphyhad been in before.
Once Miss Shipman, Agnes' and Neale's teacher, had come as the guest ofhonor; and more than once Mr. Howbridge had passed his dish for a secondhelping of Mrs. MacCall's famous beans.
It was an elastic table, anyway, that table of the Corner House girls.It was of a real cozy size when the family was alone. Mrs. MacCall satnearest the swing-door into the butler's pantry, although Uncle Rufuswould seldom hear to the housekeeper going into the kitchen after shehad once seated herself at the table.
She always put on a clean apron and cap. At the other end of the tablewas Aunt Sarah's place. No matter how grim and speechless Aunt Sarahmight be, she could not glare Mrs. MacCall out of countenance, so thatarrangement was very satisfactory.
The four girls had their seats, two on either side. The guests, whenthey had them, were placed between the girls on either side, and thetable was gradually drawn out, and leaves added, to suit thecircumstances.
Neale always sat between Tess and Dot. He did so to-night. But besidehim was the Irish cobbler. Opposite was the stout and glowing Mr.Sorber, prepared to do destruction to Mrs. MacCall's viands first ofall, and then to destroy Neale's hopes of an education afterward.
At least, he had thus far admitted no change of heart. He had met Nealewith rough cordiality, but he had stated his intention as irrevocablethat he would take the boy back to the circus.
Tess and Dot were almost horrified when they came to understand thattheir friend the lion tamer proposed to take Neale away. They could notunderstand such an evidently kind-hearted tamer of wild beasts doingsuch a cruel thing!
"I guess he's only fooling," Tess confided to Dot, and the latter agreedwith several nods, her mouth being too full for utterance, if her heartwas not.
"These beans," declared Mr. Sorber, passing his plate a third time, "arefit for a king to eat, and the fishcakes ought to make any fish proud tobe used up in that manner. I never eat better, Ma'am!"
"I presume you traveling people have to take many meals haphazardly,"suggested Mrs. MacCall.
"Not much. My provender," said Mr. Sorber, "is one thing that I'm mightyparticular about. I feeds my lions first; then Bill Sorber's next bestfriend is his own stomach--yes, Ma'am!
"The cook tent and the cooks go ahead of the show. For instance, rightafter supper the tent is struck and packed, and if we're traveling byrail, it goes right aboard the first flat. If we go by road, that teamgets off right away and when we catch up to it in the morning, it'susually set up on the next camping ground and the coffee is a-biling.
"It ain't no easy life we live; but it ain't no dog's life, neither. Andhow a smart, bright boy like this here nevvy of mine should want to runaway from it----"
"Did ye iver think, sir," interposed the cobbler, softly, "that mebbethere was implanted in the la-ad desires for things ye know nothin' of?"
"Huh!" grunted Sorber, balancing a mouthful of beans on his knife to theamazement of Dot, who had seldom seen any person eat with his knife.
"Lit me speak plainly, for 'tis a plain man I am," said the Irishman."This boy whom ye call nephew----?"
"And he is," Sorber said.
"Aye. But he has another side to him that has no Sorber to it. 'Tis theO'Neil side. It's what has set him at his books till he is the foinestscholar in the Milton Schools, bar none. Mr. Marks told me himself 'twasso."
This surprised Neale and the girls for they had not known how deep wasthe Irishman's interest in his protege.
"He's only half a Sorber, sir. Ye grant that?"
"But he's been with the show since he was born," growled the showman."Why shouldn't he want to be a showman, too? All the Sorbers have been,since away back. I was thinkin' of changing his name by law so as tohave him in the family in earnest."
"I'll never own to any name but my own again," declared Neale, fromacross the table.
"That's your answer, Mr. Sorber," declared Murphy, earnestly. "The boywants to go his own way--and that's the way of his fathers, belike. ButI'm a fair man. I can see 'tis a loss to you if Neale stays here andgoes to school."
"I guess it is, Mister," said the showman, rather belligerently. "And Iguess you don't know how much of a loss."
"Well," said the cobbler, coolly. "Put a figure to it. How much?"
"How much _what_?" demanded Mr. Sorber, bending his brows upon theIrishman, while the children waited breathlessly.
"Money. Neale's a big drawin' kyard ye say yerself. Then, how much moneywill ye take for your right to him?"
Mr. Sorber laid down his knife and fork and stared at Mr. Murphy.
"Do you mean that, sir?" he asked, with strange quietness.
"Do I mean am I willin' to pay the bye out of yer clutches?" demandedthe cobbler, with growing heat. "'Deed and I am! and if my pile isn'tbig enough, mebbe I kin find good friends of Neale O'Neil in this townthat'll be glad to chip in wid me and give the bye his chance.
"I've been layin' a bit av money by, from year to year--God knows why!for I haven't chick nor child in the wor-r-rld. Save the bit to kape mefrom the potter's field and to pay for sayin' a mass for me sowl, whatdo the likes of _me_ want wid hoardin' gold and silver?
"I'll buy a boy. I have no son of me own. I'll see if Neale shall not dome proud in the years to come--God bliss the bye!"
He seized the boy's hand and wrung it hard. "Oh, Mr. Murphy!" murmuredNeale O'Neil and returned the pressure of the cobbler's work-hardenedpalm.
But Agnes got up and ran around the table and hugged him! "You--you arethe dearest old man who ever lived, Mr. Murphy!" she sobbed, andimplanted a tearful kiss right upon the top of the cobbler's little snubnose!
"Huh!" grunted Mr. Sorber. Then he said "Huh!" again. Finally he burstout with: "Say, young lady, ain't you going to pass around some of thosekisses? Don't _I_ get one?"
"What?" cried Agnes, turning in a fury. "_Me_ kiss _you_?"
"Sure. Why not?" asked the showman. "You don't suppose that man sittingthere is the only generous man in the world, do you? Why, bless yourheart! I want Neale back bad enough. And he _does_ make us a tidy bit ofmoney each season--and some of _that's_ to his credit in the bank--I'veseen to it myself.
"He's my own sister's boy. I--I used to play with him when he was alittle bit of a feller--don't you remember them times, Neale?"
"Yes, sir," said the boy, with hanging head. "But I'm too big for playnow. I want to learn--I want to know."
Mr. Sorber looked at him a long time. He had stopped eating, and haddropped the napkin which he had tucked under his chin. Finally he blew abig sigh.
"Well, Mr. Murphy," he said. "Put up your money. You've not enough to_buy_ the boy, no matter how much you have laid away. But if he feelsthat way----
"Well, what the Old Scratch I'll say to Twomley I don't know. But I'llleave the boy in your care. I'm stickin' by my rights, though. If he's abig success in this world, part of it'll be due to the way I trained himwhen he was little. There's no doubt of that."
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So, that is the way it came about that Neale O'Neil remained at schoolin Milton and lost the "black dog of trouble" that had for monthshaunted his footsteps.
The Corner House girls were delighted at the outcome of the affair.
"If we grow to be as old as Mrs. Methuselah," declared Agnes, "we'llnever be so happy as we are over this thing."
But, of course, that is an overstatement of the case. It was only a fewweeks ahead that Agnes would declare herself surfeited with happinessagain--and my readers may learn the reason why if they read the nextvolume of this series, entitled "The Corner House Girls Under Canvas."
But this settlement of Neale's present affairs was really a very greatoccasion. Mr. Sorber and Mr. Con Murphy shook hands
on the agreement.Mrs. MacCall wiped her eyes, declaring that "such goings-on wrung thetears out o' her jest like water out of a dishclout!"
What Aunt Sarah said was to the point, and typical: "For the marcy'ssake! I never did see thet boys was either useful enough, or ornamentalenough, to make such a fuss over 'em!"
Uncle Rufus, hovering on the outskirts of the family party, grinnedhugely upon Neale O'Neil. "Yo' is sho' 'nuff too good a w'ite boy tuh bemade tuh dance an' frolic in no circus show--naw-zer! I's moughty gladyo's got yo' freedom."
Neale, too, was glad. The four Corner House girls got around him, joinedhands, and danced a dance of rejoicing in the big front hall.
"And now you need not be afraid of what's going to happen to you all thetime," said Ruth, warmly.
"Oh, Neale! you'll tell us all about what happened to you in the circus,won't you, now?" begged Agnes.
"Will you please show me how to do cartwheels, Neale?" asked Tess,gravely. "I've always admired seeing boys do them."
But Dot capped the climax--as usual. "Neale," she said, with seriousmien a day or two after, "if that circus comes to town this summer, willyou show us how you played Little Daniel in the Lions' Den? I shouldthink _that_ would be real int'resting--and awfully religious!"
THE END
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