SCENE III.
_The Railway Station._
TIMOTHY PLANS A CAMPAIGN, AND PROVIDENCE ASSISTS MATERIALLY IN CARRYINGIT OUT, OR VICE VERSA.
By dint of skillful generalship, Timothy gathered his forces on a greenbank just behind the railway depot, cleared away a sufficient number oftin cans and oyster-shells to make a flat space for the chariot of war,which had now become simply a cradle, and sat down, with Rags curled upat his feet, to plan the campaign.
He pushed back the ragged hat from his waving hair, and, clasping hisknees with his hands, gazed thoughtfully at the towering chimneys in theforeground and the white-winged ships in the distant harbor. There was aglimpse of something like a man's purpose in the sober eyes; and as themorning sunlight fell upon his earnest face, the angel in him came tothe surface, and crowded the "boy part" quite out of sight, as it has away of doing sometimes with children.
How some father-heart would have throbbed with pride to own him, and howgladly lifted the too heavy burden from his childish shoulders!
Timothy Jessup, aged ten or eleven, or thereabouts (the records had notbeen kept with absolute exactness)--Timothy Jessup, somewhat ragged, allforlorn, and none too clean at the present moment, was a poet,philosopher, and lover of the beautiful. The dwellers in Minerva Courthad never discovered the fact; for, although he had lived in that world,he had most emphatically never been of it. He was a boy of strangenotions, and the vocabulary in which he expressed them was strangerstill; further-more, he had gentle manners, which must have beenindigenous, as they had certainly never been cultivated; and, althoughhe had been in the way of handling pitch for many a day, it had beenhelpless to defile him, such was the essential purity of his nature.
To find a home and a mother for Lady Gay had been Timothy's secretlonging ever since he had heard people say that Flossy might die. Hehad once enjoyed all the comforts of a Home with a capital H; but it wasthe cosy one with the little "h" that he so much desired for her.
Not that he had any ill treatment to remember in the excellentinstitution of which he was for several years an inmate. The matron wasan amiable and hard-working woman, who wished to do her duty to all thechildren under her care; but it would be an inspired human being indeedwho could give a hundred and fifty motherless or fatherless children allthe education and care and training they needed, to say nothing of thelove that they missed and craved. What wonder, then, that an occasionalhungry little soul, starved for want of something not provided by themanagement; say, a morning cuddle in father's bed or a ride on father'sknee,--in short, the sweet daily jumble of lap-trotting, gentlecaressing, endearing words, twilight stories, motherly tucks-in-bed,good-night kisses,--all the dear, simple, every-day accompaniments ofthe home with the little "h."
Timothy Jessup, bred in such an atmosphere, would have gladdened everylife that touched his at any point. Plenty of wistful men and womenwould have thanked God nightly on their knees for the gift of such ason; and here he was, sitting on a tin can, bowed down with familycares, while thousands of graceless little scalawags were slapping thefaces of their French nurse-maids and bullying their parents, in thatvery city.--Ah me!
As for the tiny Lady Gay, she had all the winsome virtues to recommendher. No one ever feared that she would die young out of sheer goodness.You would not have loved her so much for what she was as because youcouldn't help yourself. This feat once accomplished, she blossomed intoa thousand graces, each one more bewitching than the last you noted.
Where, in the name of all the sacred laws of heredity, did the child gether sunshiny nature? Born in misery, and probably in sin, nurtured inwretchedness and poverty, she had brought her "radiant morning visions"with her into the world. Like Wordsworth's immortal babe, "with trailingclouds of glory" had she come, from God who was her home; and the heaventhat lies about us all in our infancy,--that Garden of Eden into whichwe are all born, like the first man and the first woman,--that heavenlay about her still, stronger than the touch of earth.
What if the room were desolate and bare? The yellow sunbeams stolethrough the narrow window, and in the shaft of light they threw acrossthe dirty floor Gay played,--oblivious of everything save the flickeringgolden rays that surrounded her.
The raindrops chasing each other down the dingy pane, the snowflakesmelting softly on the casement, the brown leaf that the wind blew intoher lap as she sat on the sidewalk, the chirp of the littlebeggar-sparrows over the cobblestones, all these brought as eager alight into her baby eyes as the costliest toy. With no earthly father ormother to care for her, she seemed to be God's very own baby, and Heamused her in his own good way; first by locking her happiness withinher own soul (the only place where it is ever safe for a single moment),and then by putting her under Timothy's paternal ministrations.
Timothy's mind traveled back over the past, as he sat among the tin cansand looked at Rags and Gay. It was a very small story, if he ever foundany one who would care to hear it. There was a long journey in a greatship, a wearisome illness of many weeks,--or was it months?--when hiscurls had been cut off, and all his memories with them; then there wasthe Home; then there was Flossy, who came to take him away; then--oh,bright, bright spot! oh, blessed time!--there was baby Gay; then, worsethan all, there was Minerva Court. But he did not give many minutes toreminiscence. He first broke open the Bank of England, and threw itaway, after finding to his joy that their fortune amounted to one dollarand eighty-five cents. This was so much in advance of his expectationsthat he laughed aloud; and Rags, wagging his tail with such vigor thathe nearly broke it in two, jumped into the cradle and woke the baby.
Then there was a happy family circle, you may believe me, and with goodreason, too! A trip to the country (meals and lodging uncertain, butthat was a trifle), a sight of green meadows, where Tim would hear realbirds sing in the trees, and Gay would gather wild flowers, and Ragswould chase, and perhaps--who knows?--catch toothsome squirrels and fatlittle field-mice, of which the country dogs visiting Minerva Court hadtold the most mouth-watering tales. Gay's transport knew no bounds. Herchild-heart felt no regret for the past, no care for the present, noanxiety for the future. The only world she cared for was in her sight;and she had never, in her brief experience, gazed upon it with moreradiant anticipation than on this sunny June morning, when she hadopened her bright eyes on a pleasant, odorous bank of oyster-shells,instead of on the accustomed surroundings of Minerva Court.
Breakfast was first in order.
There was a pump conveniently near, and the oyster-shells made capitalcups. Gay had three cookies, Timothy two, and Rags one; but there was nostatute of limitations placed on the water; every one had as much as hecould drink.
The little matter of toilets came next. Timothy took the dingy rag whichdid duty for a handkerchief, and, calling the pump again intorequisition, scrubbed Gay's face and hands tenderly, but firmly. Herclothes were then all smoothed down tidily, but the clean apron was keptfor the eventful moment when her future mother should first be allowedto behold the form of her adopted child.
The comb was then brought out, and her mop of red-gold hair was assistedto fall in wet spirals all over her lovely head, which always "wiggled"too much for any more formal style of hair-dressing. Her Sunday hatbeing tied on, as the crowning glory, this lucky little princess, thischild of Fortune, so inestimably rich in her own opinion, this daughterof the gods, I say, was returned to the basket, where she endeavored tokeep quiet until the next piece of delightful unexpectedness should risefrom fairy-land upon her excited gaze.
Timothy and Rags now went to the pump, and Rags was held under thespout. This was a new and bitter experience, and he wished for a fewbrief moments that he had never joined the noble army of deserters, buthad stayed where dirt was fashionable. Being released, the sense ofabnormal cleanliness mounted to his brain, and he tore breathlesslyround in a circle seventy-seven times without stopping. But this onlydried his hair and amused Gay, who was beginning to find the basketconfining, and who clamored for "Timfy" to take
her to "yide."
Timothy attended to himself last, as usual. He put his own head underthe pump, and scrubbed his face and hands heartily; wiping them onhis--well, he wiped them, and that is the main thing; besides, hishandkerchief had been reduced to a pulp in Gay's service. He combed hishair, pulled up his stockings and tied his shoes neatly, buttoned hisjacket closely over his shirt, and was just pinning up the rent in hishat, when Rags considerately brought another suggestion in the shape ofan old chicken-wing, with which he brushed every speck of dust from hisclothes. This done, and being no respecter of persons, he took thefamily comb to Rags, who woke the echoes during the operation, and hopedto the Lord that the squirrels would run slowly and that the field-micewould be very tender, to pay him for this.
It was now nearly eight o'clock, and the party descended the hillsideand entered the side door of the station.
The day's work had long since begun, and there was the usual din anduproar of railroad traffic. Trucks, laden high with boxes and barrels,were being driven to the wide doors, and porters were thundering andthumping and lurching the freight from one set of cars into another;their primary objects being to make a racket and demolish raw material,thereby increasing manufacture and export, but incidentally to load orunload as much freight as possible in a given time.
Timothy entered, trundling his carriage, where Lady Gay sat enthronedlike a Murray Hill belle on a dog-cart, conscious pride of Sunday hat onweek-day morning exuding from every feature; and Rags followed closebehind, clean, but with a crushed spirit, which he could stimulate onlyby the most seductive imaginations. No one molested them, for Timothywas very careful not to get in any one's way. Finally, he drew up infront of a high blackboard, on which the names of various way-stationswere printed in gold letters:--
CHESTERTOWN. SANDFORD. REEDVILLE. BINGHAM. SKAGGSTOWN. ESBURY. SCRATCH CORNER. HILLSIDE. MOUNTAIN VIEW. EDGEWOOD. PLEASANT RIVER.
"The names get nicer and nicer as you read down the line, and thefurtherest one of all is the very prettiest, so I guess we'll go there,"thought Timothy, not realizing that his choice was based on mostinsecure foundations; and that, for aught he knew, the milk of humankindness might have more cream on it at Scratch Corner than at PleasantRiver, though the latter name was certainly more attractive.
Gay approved of Pleasant River, and so did Rags; and Timothy moved offdown the station to a place on the open platform where a train of carsstood ready for starting, the engine at the head gasping and puffing andbreathing as hard as if it had an acute attack of asthma.
"How much does it cost to go to Pleasant River, please?" asked Tim,bravely, of a kind-looking man in a blue coat and brass buttons, whostood by the cars.
"This is a freight train, sonny," replied the man; "takes four hours toget there. Better wait till 10.45; buy your ticket up in the station."
"10.45!" Tim saw visions of Mrs. Simmons speeding down upon him in hotpursuit, kindled by Gay's disappearance into an appreciation of hercharms.
The tears stood in his eyes as Gay clambered out of the basket, anddanced with impatience, exclaiming, "Gay wants to yide now! yide now!yide now!"
"Did you want to go sooner?" asked the man, who seemed to be entirelytoo much interested in humanity to succeed in the railroad business."Well, as you seem to have consid'rable of a family on your hands, Iguess we'll take you along. Jim, unlock that car and let these childrenin, and then lock it up again. It's a car we're taking up to the end ofthe road for repairs, bubby, so the comp'ny 'll give you and your folksa free ride!"
Timothy thanked the man in his politest manner, and Gay pressed a pieceof moist cooky in his hand, and offered him one of her swan's-downkisses, a favor of which she was usually as chary as if it had possesseda market value.
"Are you going to take the dog?" asked the man, as Rags darted up thesteps with sniffs and barks of ecstatic delight. "He ain't so handsomebut you can get another easy enough!" (Rags held his breath in suspense,and wondered if he had been put under a roaring cataract, and thenploughed in deep furrows with a sharp-toothed instrument of torture,only to be left behind at last!)
"That's just why I take him," said Timothy; "because he isn't handsomeand has nobody else to love him."
("Not a very polite reason," thought Rags; "but anything to go!")
"Well, jump in, dog and all, and they'll give you the best free ride tothe country you ever had in your life! Tell 'em it's all right, Jim;"and the train steamed out of the depot, while the kind man waved hisbandana handkerchief until the children were out of sight.