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In Amity Court. Page 36.

THE

CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

LOUISE M. TIIUESTON,

AI7TH0B OF "HOW CHARLEY KOBKKTS BECAME A MAN," " HOV ■"'*■ HOBSBTS
GAINED HEK EDUCATION," " HOME IN THE "WEST."

"There are gains for all our losses,

There are halms for all our pain;
But, when j'oiith, the dream, departs.
It takes something from our hearts.
And it never conies again.

'Something beautiful Is vanished.

And we sigh for it in vain:
We behold it everywhere, —
On the earth and in the air.
But it never comes again."

BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS

lO MILK STRBET

Bntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year iSTi,

bt lee and SHEPARD,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

%f£tcixannidio §ttiituttis

ANDREW CHAMBRE CAMPBELL.

2229062

CONTENTS.

^APTKB PAOX

I. Hannah Craig 9

IL Ajmity Court 22

HI. The Birds' Nest 33

rV. The Birds in CouNCHi 44

V. COBDEN AND CO 67

VI. Brisk Business . . . . . . . .69

VII. Plans 82

Vni. "Amity Meg" . .94

IX. What Happened to Jemmy 101

X. Jemmy's Luck 116

XI. The Ladies 128

XIT. The Landlord 143

XIII. One Less 157

XIV. Louis LeGrange 174

XV. Being a Girl 188

XVI. Mr. Saunders's Operations .... 199

XVn. A EiEcognition 212

XVin. Bestobation 221

THE CHILDREN OP AMITY CODET.

CHAPTER I.

HANNAH CRAIG.

JAMES CRAIG'S barber-shop in Campfields was
closed. It had been closed for a week. There was
a strip of black crape hanging from the door-knob, and
another from the striped pole. Inside the shop the yellow
shades cast a subdued light. 'Everything was set in a
solemn sort of order. There was not a brush or a razor
awrj^ in its place ; and a gloomy silence reigned where
but few weeks since were plenty of lounging talkers,
plenty of news and gossip retailed, and plenty of busi-
ness done.

Beyond the shop were the little parlor and kitchen
of James's home. But these too showed an unwonted
stillness and an unnatural order. The parlor was a
bedroom as well. A plump, ruddy-faced boy lay
asleep in a large crib, and on the pillow of the other

10 THE CHILDREN OP AMITY COURT.

bed a cloud of fine black hair shaded the delicate and
strangch' womanly face of a little girl.

In a low rocker by the table sat the mother and
widow. She had been putting a few needful stitches
into a little garment for Jemmy, and now leaned
back wearily, and rocked slowly and thoughtfully to
and fro. Her mood was restless. The sorrow and
anxiety that had filled the past week had settled into a
stead}' purpose. She could no longer stay here, and
she had now decided what was wisest to be done. In
the cit}' she had many acquaintances, and could there
find plenty of such work as she could best do. In
CampficUls was little opportunit}^ for her to earn a
livelihood. She must go to New York. Hannah was
an excellent laundress. Many wealthy f.irailies who
had known her in the ten long years she had been Mrs.
Roberts' nurse for Eva, would perhaps yet remember
her. From them she hoped to secure employment. At
any rate, the efTort should be made, and the sooner the
better. So she had set to-morrow as the day to leave her
home, go to New York, and see what could be done.
The children should go with her. They had never seen
the city, and there had been too much of gloom over
their 3'oung lives in the past weeks of their father's
sickness and death. She could leave them at the house
of her old friend, Jane Cook, who was nurse for Mrs.
True's Minnie when she was at Mrs. Roberts'. Jane

HANNAH CRAIG. 11

Cook was married now, and lived in a decent house in
the lower part of the city. The children would have a
fine day, watching the passers from Jane's window.

These plans had all been made a day or two ago.
Hannah was only dreamily thinking them over and
approving them as she sat rocking so slowly. Lines
of care had come into her face in the last few years.
She was also troubled with a growing deafness, and the
effort to hear had added to its anxious expression. But
she was resting now. Her mind went back to those
years — hapi)y years before her marriage — when she
served in the grand house of Mrs. Robei'ts in New
York City, when she took care of P2va, who, like her
own Nora, never made any trouble, and there was only
pleasure in the care. It was two years since Charley
and Eva Roberts had come out to see her before going
away to the West. How she wished there was one of
all the Roberts family in New York City now, to whom
she could go for advice and assistance ! But they
were all far away. So, with a sigh, Hannah arose,
laid away her work, and began to [)repare for the
night.

As she moved about the room, the little black head
stirred. A pair of soft black e^'es peeped through the
long lashes, and watched her movements. Hannah was
not long in observiug it, and smiled down at them as
she tm'ned towards the bed.

12 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

" What is the matter, mamma? You looked as if
you -wanted to cry," said Nora.

"Did I?" replied Hannah, absently. "I was
thinking."

" What were j'ou thinking about ? Papa ? **

" No, not just then. I was wishing Miss Eva were in
New York, so I could go and talk with her. It would
be such a comfort ! "

" Perhaps she is there."

" No. She went away to Chicago."

" But that was a long, long time ago. She may
iave come back now."

" No. She has not come back."

*' Why? Is n't she ever coming back? "

" I don't know."

" She will come back to see you, sometime."

" O, no ! She would never come all the way for
that."

" Well, then, to see other folks. Are n't there lots
of folks in New York she knows and will want to see ? *'

" Yes, of course. Perhaps she will come sometime."
And Hannah was somehow comforted by the thought,
as she often before had been by the kind child-thoughts
of little Nora. . " If I could only find the card they left
with their address on it, I think I would write to Miss
Eva. But it is lost."

" I 'm afraid Jemmy got it," gravely suggested Nora.

HANNAH CRAIG. 13

Jemmy did so much mischief, he generally had the
credit of all that was done or suspected. But now he
slept unconsciously through the charge.

Vt remember her. mamrat.,." "esnmed Nora, after a
dreamy silence '• Miss Eva was just like the picture
of an angCi m my story-book, that F got for speaking
a piece in Sundaj' school. She nad just such pretty,
shining, j^ellow hair curling all down her neck and
shoulders, — only the angel's hair was n't cui'led nicely,
and hers was, — and just such dear, pleasant blue eyes.
I was a little girl then. It was ever so long ago."

Hannah smiled ; then she said, "• Miss Eva was about
the best-behaved little girl I ever knew."

" If I am very good, mamma, shall I ever grow to
look like her ? — like an angel, I mean ? " asked Nora,
eagerly.

" Yes, I think you will. You often remind me of
her," replied Hannah, as she smoothed the jet-black
hair over the pillow, and kissed her little girl.

" I don't see how I can," said Nora, slowly, holding
up her hair to the light and looking through it. " I
don't look at all like her, and my hair has n't turned
yellow a bit."

" You can never make your hair yellow or j'our eyes
blue," said Hannah ; " but being good will bring the
lovingness and kindness up into your face as it is in
Eva's."

14 THE CHILDREK OP AMITY COURT.

Nora was not satisfied. She lay, holding up her haii
and gazing at it with a sad and thoughtful face. Han-
nah saw it, and the tears came into her eyes. This
thoughtful, earnest child-woman was the greatest bless-
ing and comfort of her life. She loved her with a re-
spect, as well as strength, which few mothers mingle in
their parental affections .

Tears were gathering in Nora's dark eyes too.

"Angels never have black hair," she said, slowly and
softly, with a quiver of her rosy lips. She was afraid
her dark locks might shut her out of angelhood forever.

" I don't believe that," said Hannah, quietly.

"Don't you?"

" No. It 's nonsense."

" What is nonsense ? "

" That angels should not be as likely to have dark
hair as light. Angels are only people."

" Is that all ? " asked Nora, in astonishment.

" Yes. Your papa is an angel now."

" I know it," said Nora, in a hushed voice.

" But his hair is n't yellow," Hannah continued, com-
ing to the bedside again.

" Unless — unless he has changed it," suggested Nora.

" If he has, I suppose you can," replied the mother,
smiling to see the light come back to Nora's face, as
she said, in a tone of relief, —

" So I can."

HANNAH CRAIG. 15

Then Hannah put out the light, and soon both were
asleep.

.Jemmy made sure of their being wide awake early-
next morning. Going to the city was an event in his
life only to be compared with one other, and that was
the circus which had been in town last summer, and to
which he had been taken, as a great treat, by Lester
Gree. Jemmy had reckoned by it ever since. Every-
thing happened either before or after the circus, in his
calendar.

Breakfast was soon over, and everything in the
kitchen had once more assumed the prim order of the
previous evening. If Hannah found work, she meant
to move her furniture soon. But while a doubt re-
mained, she would leave her home as it was, that she
might retreat thither if necessary. She paclced a few
needful clothes in a large valise, for she miglit be gone
some days, if Jane could keep her. Then all, at last,
was ready. Nora and Jemm}', in their little best suits
of butf linen, were two as neat and prett}' children
as were often seen. Hannah, too, plainly attired in
black, had quite the air of a lad\% as she stepped out
from the door of her homa, auJ turned the ke^^ For
the first tini3 in many years, that key went into her
pocket instead of under the blind.

Mr. Beeler, the grocer, was passing as she came
through the little side yard to the street.

16 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COCKT.

" Ah ! j-ou are starting? " he said.

" Yes, sir. I was coming to bring you the key,** she
replied.

" All right. I '11 do the best I can," he said, " and
I hope by the time you return, I shall have found a
man to take the lease of the shop off your hands."

" Thank you hearty sir," said Hannah, gratefullj' ;
" but I shall perhaps come back to-night. Perhaps not
for two or three days. I can't tell till I get there, and
find out how things are."

" No, of course not. Well, whether you come back
to-night or three months hence, you mil find all safe
here and ready for you ; and always plenty of old
friends in Campfields to greet you. I don't know what
Lester Gree will do, without j'our children to play
with." And Mr. Beeler patted Nora's pink cheeks.

" Everybody has been very kind, I am sure, sir, ever
since the day that Mrs. Gree came down to help me
when Mrs. Roberts died, till now. I wish I could
see my way clear to stay here, for such good neigh-
bors."

" Perhaps you will find better ones in the city,"
replied INIr. Beeler, cheerily ; " at any rate, let us hope
so." And, wiih a friendly hand-shake, and good-by, Mr.
Beeler left her.

" Come, Jemmy,*' said Hannah.

A very jovial laugh was Jemmy's Only reply. He

HANXAII CRAIG. 17

was at the moment in hot pursuit of an uncommonly
stout and fleet grasshopper.

" Jemmy, mamma's waiting," called Nora.

Jemmy sprang at the grasshopper and came down
unsuccessfully, plump on his clean linen knees, in a
ver}^ damp anil disreputable portion of the street-gut-
ter. Sir Grasshopper settled his chin in his neck-cloth
and contemplated his downfall with serenity from a
neighboring succorj'-stem.

" 1 '11 'ave 'im now ! " cried the undaunted sports-
man, scrambling to his feet.

Hannah hastened towards him with more energy than
patience. Jemmy opened his mouth with a scream of
defiance, and ran. Hannah could not make a spectacle
ef herself by pursuing, and stopped, vexed and dis-
mayed. Nora grasped her mother's hand.

" If you '11 walk along, mamma, I '11 bring him.
He '11 come with me."

It was not the first time Nora had helped her mother
to conciliate and persuade this difficult little scion of
humanity. And Nora's successes had long ago proved
her judgment and ability. Hannah j'ielded, and walked
on. Nora stood still by the roadside, and in a very few
moments, by her quietness and quickness, had captured
a fine specimen of the grasshopper family.

" I 've got one, Jemmy ! See if it is the one you
were after."

18 THE CIIILDnEX OF AMITY COURT.

Jeram}' believed in Nora as he did in no one else.
She never deceived him. Tliough greatl}' surprised at
such a sudden capture, he came at once to sec. She
opened her hand a crack for him to peep, and there
sat the grasshopper, witli a look of surprised solem-
nity.

" I should n't wonder but 'e 's the very one," an-
nounced Jemmy, oracularly. " Looks like 'im. 'Ow
did you catch 'im so quick ? "

" I was careful not to scare him."

" I don't know but I believe the one I saw was a
leetle bigger. Let me see again."

Jemmy looked again, and the grasshopper very natu-
rally jumped for the open crack of his prison. Jem-
my started back with blinking eyes.

" Let 's hurr}^ and show him to mamma before he gets
away ! " said Nora.

Jemmy was eager enough to do that, and they soon
overtook Hannah.

It was a bright sunny morning, anl on the piazza,
all around tlie little station, stood groups of men going
into the city. The coming train was already in sight,
and Hannah had just time to secure her ticket before it
came to a stop alongside the platform. "When they
wcrci fairlj' moving, Jemm}', with dilated eyes and his
ruddy little face close to the window, held his breath
with delight, at the whizzing panorama before him. All

HANNAH CRAIG. 19

t'ae way ho kept sliouting, above the din of the cars,
to Xoia close at his side, to look at the cows, houses,
streets, and people as they flew along. Once a fright-
ened horse caught their attention. Then a row of boys,
on a fence, who waved their caps and cheered the pass-
ing train. Everything was wonderful, exciting, and
delightful to the children, l?ut to Hannah, as the cars
bore her nearer the city she had once known so Avell, a
strange dread took possession of her. There came an
unaccountable sinking at her heart. The hope that had
buoyed her up heretofore seemed forsaking her in the
time of greatest need. She longed to be safely back
in Cauipflelds.

Meanwhile the cars flew swiftly ou, and entered
the city, and her busy day must begin. The fii'st thing
was to take the children to Jane Cook's ; then she
could go about freely to arrange other matters. This
first task was, however, a hai'd one. It was a long walk.
Coaches and horse-cars would not much shorten it, and
she could not aflbrd a carriage. She took the plump
valise in one hand, and vigorously gi'asped Jemmy's wrist
with the other. Nora walked as his guard on the other
side, anl held his other hand. It made a convenient
f :)rm of infantry troop for the anxious mother, but was
an^'thing but satisfactory to the eager, inquiring eyes of
Jemmy. Alwaj's something he wanted to see was
hidden by mother's dress, or Nora's broad-brimmed

20 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COUKT.

summer hat. He stretched his neck first one wa}', then
another. Innumerable things he wanted to see a sec-
ond time, he missed after the first glimpse. Only the
continual appearance of new wonders prevented him
from screaming with vexation at losing sight so rapidly
of old ones. He sprang forward to see the last of an
advertising wagon, around Hannah and the valise. He
lagged a step to gaze at a baby in a basement window
they were passing. But Hannah had a good grip on
his little wrist, and she never relaxed it for any strain
that came upon it, — perhaps the struggles only tight-
ened it. Nora's attention was divided between Jem-
my's talk, her care over him, and her own interest in
the busy city streets. ' The noise seemed to stun her,
but Jemmy liked it. It gave him an opportunity for
the full exercrse of his excelleixt lungs.

Hannah walked on, her eyes wandering about for
familiar buildings and landmarks. She had just found
one, and started to cross the street.

" My shoe 's untied ! " suddenl}' cried Jemmy, hang-
ing back.

" Never mind," said Hannah, looking up and down
the street, and seeing that now was a good time to
cross.

*• I step on it ! I shall tumble down ! " shouted
Jemmy.

Nora stooped and tucked in the straggling string.

HANNAH CKAIG. 21

Hannah watched her, then clutching the valise and
Jemmy, stepped from the sidewalk. Jemmy gave one
scream of objection and fright. Hannah pushed on,
half dragging him with her. Jemmy struggled, and
wrested away his hand just as something struck Han-
nah, and she fell. Jemmy went racing down the side-
walk. Nora followed, not daring to lose sight of him.
Hannah lay senseless and alone, in the street, in the
track of a runaway horse.

Of course a crowd instantly gathered. As her
valise seemed to show her a stranger in the city,
and as no one knew* anything about her, the police
placed her in the empt}^ wagon that had done the
mischief, — as the runaway horse, quickly captured,
was being led back, — and bore her away. Five
minutes afterwards the crowd had again dispersed ;
the street was as busy as ever ; and no trace re-
mained of the accident, unless one had the curiosity
to inspect the paving in one spot, where a few spatters
of blood had stained the stones.

22 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COUBT.

CHAPTER II.

AMITY COURT.

STUMBLING on a broken brick, Jeram}- fell over
upon a doorstep, and there he lifted up his voice,
and wept as only Jemmy could weep. In truth, the
child was in a terrible fright, and his previous excite-
ment strengthened and intensified it. Ilis quick eyes
and ears had seen and heard the approaching danger,
though his speech was too slow to tell of it, and his
blind efforts to escape it had been only disregarded as
one of his many unfounded objections to doing as his
mother desired. Nora was quickly beside him. She
threw herself down, panting, upon the doorstep, and
lifted his flushed face into her arms.

"What is the matter, Jemmy? There, hush now,
and tell Nora, won't j'ou ? "

Jemmy only nestled closer to her, and sobbed bit-
terly, though more quietly. When at length he was
almost still, with only occasional long fluttering breaths
to tell of the pain that had torn his little heart, Nora
said, —

AMITY COURT. 23

" Now we '11 go and find mamma." She had been
wondering that her mother had not, before now, come to
find them. But Jemmy broke into a bitter wail at this
suggestion.

" O, I don't want to ! She 'II be all smashed hup.
Oo-oo ! "

'■ Hush, hash, Jemmy ! don't cry any more. Mamma
will be waiting for us, and not know where we are."

" No, she won't ! The great wild 'orse was coming,
and 'e ran over 'er ! Oo ! " moaned Jemmy, for he had
seen his mother fall, while Nora, in looking after him,
had not. She remembered now the clatter and rush
of a flying horse and wagon, and her bright cheeks
paled at the thonglit tliat her mamma could scarcely
have got out of the wa}' of it. But she answered, in
her usual trustmg, cheery way, —

" Perhaps not. I guess mamma got out of the way."

"No, she didn't! I saw 'er fall down, and the
'orse — Ooo ! "

"You did? Then perhaps she is hurt somehow, so
she can't come to look for us. "We must go and find
her. And then we will carry the valise for her, won't
we ? Do you believe you can carry half of it ? "

" Yes ! " cried Jcmni}-, stoutly. " Hi could carry the
'ole of it ! " And his face lighted up with the prospect
of testing his strength.

So Nora rose, and hand in hand they walked back

24 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

along the busy sidewalk towards the spot where they
had lost their mother. The}'^ walked a long way ;
they looked carefully and earnestly at eveiy woman
they met. But nowhere could they find their mother.

"I think we must have come by the place," said
Nora, " Let 's go back.*'

They went back far down the long sidewalk again
Still with no success.

'* I wish I knew just where it was," said Nora, stop^
ping to gaze anxiously across the street.

"What are yo\i looking for, little girl?" asked a
passer.

'* Looking for mother," replied Nora. " She is right
along here somewhere looking for us."

The stranger said, " O, well, you '11 soon find her
then," and went on.

Others spoke to the two little wanderers, and receiv-
ing the same answer, passed on. The children grew
very tired, and looking down a quiet court. Jemmy
said, —

'• Let 's go in there and sit down ; I'm so tired ! "

There was no passing of carriages here, for the court
led nowhere. Across the end was a broken fence, and
bej'ond it was the river. The sun lay blistering hot
down the length of the court, but there was beginning
to grow a narrow ribbon of shadow on one side. The
houses were huddled against one another, — houses

AMITY COURT. 25

of all sizes, heights, and styles, for it had ouce been a
respectable and desirable place of residence. Here and
there were blocks of decent brick, — the old settlers, —
and crowded in between were shabby wooden buildings.
It was in the doorway of one of these that Nora and
Jemmy sat down to rest. Jemra}'^ pillowed his brown
head on Nora's lap, and, quickly putting aside all care
and anxiety, he fell asleep, safe and happy in little
Nora's protecting arms. It was not so easy for Nora
to forget her trouble. Yet. sitting so still, lulled by
the quiet breathings of Jcmrayon her lap, the soothing
influence did at last overcome her excitement, and, rest-
ing her head on the lintel beside her, she too slept.

Few people were astir in the court, and those few
were too well accustomed to the sight of stray children
to notice these. Biddy Crowle^'-, coming home from her
day's wash, said, " La sakes, now where did they come
from, the darlints?" as she stepped over Jemmy to
enter the door. But she did not waken them to in-
quire.

The shadow had stretched across the court, and was
creeping, tier by tier, up the windows of the opposite
houses, when Jemmy awoke. He sat up and gazed
about in wonder. The movement awoke Nora, and
for a moment the two children stared about and at each
other in silence. Then memory returned, and Nora
sighed. But Jemmy was quite recruited by his sleep,

26 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

and, seeing some children of his own size playing in a
gutter opposite, cried, —

" Let 's go over there, and play a while with them.
Till mamma comes, you know," he added, as he saw
doubt in Nora's face.

'" Slic won't find iis," sai^l Xora.

"Yes, she will. There's the street, just out there,
and when she goes by she '11 look right down here and
know us b}' our linen clothes ! " And Jemmy sprang up
and started Yet the strangeness and newness of the
city threw a sliado of coyness over his usually confident
air, and he turned, half-way across, to wait for Nora,
and take lier Iiand.

They wal!:ed over and stood by the group, — three
nondescript, half-clothed children, who were piling up
chips and bits of rubbish into an edifice of some inches
in height. The builders took no notice of the little
strangers who stood by looking on. They pretended
not to be conscious of their presence. Nora was try-
ing to find some pleasant word or way of beginning
talk with them. But Jemmy could not wait ; and just
as the edifice towered to a proud height, he put out his
foot, and with a little poke knocked it all down. He
did not mean to be rude or ill-tempered. It had alwaj'S
been his way, when he had built up his block houses,
to have the fun of seeing them tumble down. Indeed,
to him the destruction seemed often the best pai't of

AMITY COURT. 27

the pla}'. Not so ran the faith of the little Amity
Courters. A yell of anjcr arose from the younger
ones. But the larger bo}' seized a handful of slimy
dirt from the gutter, and flung it full in Jemmy's face.
Jemmj-'s mouth being open for a laugh, some of the
dirt went in. This indignit}' was felt to be a mad-
dening outrage. Little Jemm}' was never so angry
before. Quicker than Nora could stop him, he sprang
like a tiger at the boj', pounding and shaking him in
an utterly unscientific, but very hearty manner. The
other children cheered. A fight was a species of
entertainment with which they were quite familiar.
More children rushed out to see it. Then, as their
native seemed getting the worst of it at the hands of
the stranger, a bigger bo}' came to his assistance.

Nora had been tr3'ing from the first to pull .Jemmy
away from his aggressive onset , but it must be con-
fessed that she redoubled her exertions when she found
him the sufferer. Then he would gladly have yielded
to her e.Torts to disengage him, but the big boy held
him with one hand while he struck him with the other.
Nora began to cry, and at last, in desperation, wrappe J
both arms about Jemmy, bowed her head over Mm, and
let the blows foil on her own shoulders

A quick patter of bare feet came down the sidewalk.

" Hi, Bill ! rare fellow ! Can lick a little girl, can't
ye?"

28 THE CUILDRE^T OF AMITY COURT.

The blows ceased, and Bill turned, panting and angry,
on the new-comer. But instead of commencing a new
fight, he said, in a shamed voice, —

" I was n't licking the girl. *T was the boy that was
pitching into little Pat Crowley."

'■' What bo}'? " And crouching, with his hands on his
knees, and a shrewd, puckering smile about his droll
mouth, Ned peeped under Nora's arms to get a view of
Jemmy. " Sure enough ! There is one, I declare !
The girl is rather small to be a match for you, but
the boy is so dreadful little, I did n't see him at all ! "

" They are strangers, anyway," retorted Bill. " Look
at their good clothes."

Nora led Jemmy to a quiet doorway, where he sobbed
a long time, partly perhaps with fright and pain, but
probabl}'^ a great deal more from unappeased anger. A
terrible heart-sinking had come upon both the children.
It was hunger. But the excitement and anxiety of the
day made them unconscious what ailed them.

Boys came trooping into the court now, group after
group, many munching cakes or doughnuts as they
came. Grown men and women came into it also, some
carr^'ing little empty tin pails, some a saw, some an
axe. some picks ; many were quite empty-handed. As
the sun went down, Amity Court seemed to wake up.
Every liouse was full of life. The open windows each
framed a group of frowsy heads, and dozens of loung-

AMITY COURT. 29

ing inhabitants swarmed upon the doorsteps and filled
the narrow sidewalks. The houses were like ant-hills.
Coarse voices called back and forth in the gathering
dusk ; games of tag and tease occupied the street.
And the evening shadows drew closer their kind cur-
tain over the half-clothed people who loitered about,
resting from the daj^'s toil, and the dirty, pinched-up
children who raced and shouted at their play.

Nora and Jemmy were obliged to leave the doorway
where they had sought refuge. The owners wanted it.
They stood by the corner of a narrow passage that led
through into the back yards. They stood till they
could stand no longer ; then they sat down upon the
pavement. Plent}- of tired women were sitting on the
sidewalk about them, so it seemed quite in fashion for
them to do so too. In the darkness their good clothes
did not mark them as strangers. No one noticed or
spoke to them. Sitting there, again sleep came to their
relief, and the hum of the voices about them only lulled
them more deeply in its embrace.

The chill of midnight awoke Nora. The court was
empty, and still as death. She could not stay there on
the cold stones any longer. She half roused Jemmy ;
and, leading him to the Avoodcn steps of one of the
shabbiest houses, they crept up into the doorway, and
soon were again asleep.

Jemmy was early awake in the morning, but no ear-

30 THE CHILDREN OF AMHT COURT.

lier than many others in Amity Court. The houses
showed signs of movements within, but there was no
such running over at doors and windows as last night.
The men with dinner-pails and tools were going, one by
one or in groups, out of the court to their day's work.
Then went the boj's, chatting and chaffing together.
Nora saw Bill and Nod among them, but they were not
togetlier, Ned was with a smaller bo}', to whom he was
talking earnestly ; Bill was playing rudely with a party
of rougher boys, Nora tried to hide, with Jemmy,
under the open lid of the hatchway of a cellar. She
could not bear to be seen and mocked for good clothes
again. At last the men and boys seemed all gone, and
the children crept out of their hiding-place. They felt
very weak and faint ; their heads were dizzy and light
with fasting. Jemmy was ready to cry with a sort of
dumb misery he could not explain. But his eye
caught the water sparkling across the end of the court.

" I want to go and see the water ! " he said, in for-
lornest accents.

Nora led him where he could look through the broken
fence, and see, far out on the river, steamers and sail-
boats gliding to and fro. The novel sight interested
him for a while. Nora, too, enjoyed it, but soon some-
thing nearer called her attention. A large boy had
come up from a little slanting path b}' the river with a
hand-cait, and left it before the door of the great brick

AMITY COUKT. 31

house next the water. He went in and up the stairs,
which Nora could see, as the door stood wide open.
That was the fasliion with all the doors in Amity
Court. Soon he came down with a huge sack, very full
and plump, on his back. And behind him came a girl
not quite so large, and she too had a full sack on her
back. Foth sacks were placed in the hand-cart. They
seemed not very heavj^, though so very big. Then the
boy and girl went back, and soon returned with two
more sacks, which they also piled on the little hand-
cart. The boy brought dowu one more, and then the
cart was heaped so full that he had to tie a rope over
the bags to keep them from rolling off. Nora could not
help coming nearer. She liked to see them fill the cart,
and to hear their kind and cheery voices. She hardly
knew why, but it was because these were jjleasant-
looking and well-behaved children, and that could not
be said of most of the residents of Amity Court.

" All right, Tom ! Now throw me the other end,"
said the girl, who was hidden behind the piled cart,
trjnng to fasten the rope over it.

"Now it will ride," said Tom, giving the load a
shake to test it.

Just then Jemmy turned, and missed Nora from his
side. With a scream he looked about for her, and she
quickly ran to him.

" Come and see what a load Tom has got," she said,

32 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COCRT.

pointing to the cart which was just beginning to move
away.

Jemmy stared with wide eyes, and T^ora stood
with him watching it going out of the court. The little
girl who had helped load it also stood on the sidewalk
watching it.

Then she turned, and saw the two little strangers.
She smiled at them pleasantly. It was the first bit
of encouragement the children had found. Instinc-
tively they moved towards her.

"Please, could you give us something to eat? "We
are very hungry," said Nora.

" Are 3"ou ? Why, yes, we can spare you a break-
fast," replied the pleasant-faced little girl. " Come up-
stairs, and I '11 get it for you."

TOB birds' M£ST. 33

CHAPTER III.

THE BIRDS NEST.

IT was not merely up one flight, nor two, that the
pleasant-faced girl led Nora and Jeraray, But at
the top of the fourth she paused, and did not go up any
more stairs, for the excellent reason that there were no
more. Just overhead, the sun shone in upon the little
cramped upper hall through a skylight in the roof. A
door that stood ajar she pushed open, and the children,
followed her into a long, low room that reached quite
across thj house, and had windows front and back, aa
well as two at the side looking directly out on the
shming river. There were two beds in the room, — one
tucked away in a corner on the floor, the other dig-
nified with a cot-frame of ample dimensions. In th«
latter was a movement as they entered. A little body,
bolstered up to a sitting posture, leaned forward to
catch the fii'st glimpse of the strangers, whose unfa-
miliar footsteps had been noted far down the long
flights of stairs.

" Here is company to breakfast, Harry," said the

St THE ClIILURKX OF AMITY COUUT.

hostess, going to a cupboard between the chimney and
one of the front corners of the long room.

" "\Yc don't have company very often, and I 'ra glad
to see 3'ou," said Ilarr}', feeling, with a child's quick
instinct, a sort of kinship with Nora, and reaching a
puny little hand to shake liands with her.

Xora came to tlie bedside, and gave her hand
shyly, saying, —

" We are not company. We lost our mother, ami
— wh}', I suppose Ave are just beggars." Then, as
the force of this dreadful name came over her, Nora
suddenly sat down on the floor, in a great cUitter of
rags that were strewed around Harry's bed, and began
to cry.

" O, don't ! " said Harrj', in a heart-broken voice,
leaning over the bedside to look down with pitying
ej'cs upon her. '' Bess, do come and take her ! "

Bess turned from setting out some bread and baker's
cakes, and came quickl}'. But Jemmy, whose first
moments on entering had been busy with a severe
survey of the new premises, caught Nora's last words,
and, looking down, saw her crying. With one shriek
of terrified sorrow, he flung himself down beside her,
and wailed forth his despair, at sight of Nora — his
stronghold of comfort and refuge — in tears, in a series
of the most woful moans that ever greeted mortal ear.
Bess stopped half-way to Nora, startled b^'^ this new

THE birds' nest. 35

outbreak. But the emergeucj^ instantly hushed Nora's
grief. Brushing back Ler own tears, she raised Jemmy
in her arms, and soothingly told him that they were
going to have something to eat now, and " wouldn't
it taste good?" Jemmy loolced up in her face, and,
finding her no longer crying, consented to accept con-
solation and — In'eakfast.

Bess Canton little knew how much of a charity she
was undertaking when she agreed to give these two
hungry little strangers a breakfast. It was a twenty-
four hours' fast that they were breaking ; and many
a piece of bread and many a baker's cake it required to
make quite good so long a fast, and utterly destroy their
health}- appetites. But Bess was not thinking of that.

"You wore very hungry, weren't you?" she said,
watching them with kindly eyes, as they ate so eagerly.

" Yes, indeed," said Nora.

" I never was so ungr}' 'fore in hall m}-^ life," vouch-
safed Jemmy, with his mouth full of doughnut.

" Tell me where you came from, " was the next
query.

" Campficlds," said Nora.

" It's way off — long wa}'^ — we came in cars," ejac-
ulated Jemmy.

" But 3'ou said you lost your mother. When was
that?"

"Yesterday — walking along that street," replied

36 THE CHILDREN OF A5IITY COURT.

Nora, indicating the other end of the court witU a wave
of her hand. '• Jemmy ran awaj', and I ran after him,
and when we went back — "

" No, first the great wild 'orse came," interrupted
Jemmy ; " I saw 'im, and mamma did n't, and Nora
did n't. So hi ran awa}', and Nora ran too, but mamma
stayed, and was all runded over."

" When we went back," continued Nora, " we
couldn't find her."

"Are you sure you went back to the same place?"
asked Bess.

" We went all along the street," said Nora ; " we
could n't tell just the place, but we must have gone by
it, and we could n't see mother anywhere ; but I think
she will come by and by. She '11 be looking for us, you
know."

" Yes," assented Bess, gravely. But in her heart
she thought that probablj' the children's mother would
never again come to look for them.

"When Nora Jtnd Jemmy had finished their breakfast,
Bess put away the few fragments that remained, and
tied on her hat hurriedly.

" Now, I must go down to help Tom," she said ;
" and I shall have to run, I guess. You can sta}' here,
if you like, till I come back. It is very pleasant to
look out of the window at the ships. Would you like
to stay?"

THK birds' nest. 37

Bess looked at Nora for an answer. Nora looked at
Jemmy. As neither replied, Bess said to Jemmy, —

" Would }ou like to stay here and watch the ships on
the river till I come back? "

" Yes," acquiesced Jemmy, climbing on a chair at
one of the south windows overlooking the water. He
was in just that condition of good humor that is agreea-
ble to any and every proposition, and that often comes,
as in this case, from a thorough internal physical satis-
faction.

So it was agreed that they should remain. But the
arrangement was not made without reference to Harry's
wish. Bess's eyes had sought his when the meal was
ended, and r^ad their desire to retain this new company
that had drifted i.x upon them. It was to Nora, not
Jemmy, that the wisli had reference. But the two
were not to be distinguished, and Harry already en-
dured Jemmy for Nora's sake, in these first few mo-
ments of their acquaintance.

Jennny was very quiet at the window, after Bess had
gone. He was tired His unusual sleeping accommo-
dations must answer for that. Then all his j'oung
strength and vitality were at present emplo^'cd to digest
his hearty breakfast. Nora, drawn by the gentle ways
and indescribable attractions of the little boy in bed,
approached, and sat down on the foot of the cot. She
did not speak. She did not know what to say. But

38 THE CHILDUKX OK AMITY COURT.

she liked to watch him, for two reasons. lie was very
much after the pattern of the an el in her sto:y-book
at home To be sure, the angel's hair was long and
streaming, and his was cut short, as a boy's should be.
But his was of the golden yellow color that alwaj^s
suggested heaven and glory to her childish mind ; and
it rolled itself up into rings all around his fair pale
face. His e3'es were very blue and bright, as soft and
gentle as angels' ej'^es should be, but somehow too sad.
Nora did not think this all out. She only felt a vague,
dumb happiness in looking at him, and an idea of
angels was mixed up in her mind with her idea of him.
Harry was older than Nora, though no larger. He
was Acry busy ail the time, as he sat np in bed ; and
this was the second reason she found so much interest
in watching him. A long bag, twice as long as any
that Tom had carried away on the cart, — indeed, a bag
made by ripping out the bottjm of one like those, and
sewing the sides on the top of another, — was beside
him, standing on the floor, its top within easy reach of
his little arms The bag was stutfed fall of rags of all
sizes, shapes, and colors. Harry was sorting them.
He threw the white rags on one side his bed, and the
colored ones on the other. Sometimes he found very
pretty bits of calico or dress goodi ; but generally the
rags were old and faded, sometimes not at all clean or
nice to handle. Harry only hurried over such patches

THE birds' nest. 39

in his rag-bag, and Bess took care in filling it to put
in as little as possible of the disagreeable kind. Soon
Nora saw how he divided them, and began to help.
They spoke little, but a silent S3mpathy was growing
up between them, expressed chiefly' by pleasant glances
from their bright eyes. Nora p tied Harry, and wanted
to help him because he had to stay in bed, and loved
him because he had an angil face. Harry pitied Nora
because she looked so sad and had lost her mother, as
had the Canton children not lon^ since ; and he loved
.her, too, for the tender care slie showed for Jemmy.
Little Jemmy, meanwhile, at the window was so unrea-
sonably quiet that Nora turned to look, and found his
head sunk upon the sill, in the glaring sunshine, his
round eyes fast closed in sleep.

" Jemmy 's gone to sleep. I 'm glad ; he must be so
tired," she said to Harry.

" He might lie on the other bed. The sun is too hot
for him there," said Ilarrj'.

So Nora, half waking him, led him to the bed in the
corner, where he soon w. s comfortabl}' sleeping^

Then Ilarr}^ and Nora began to talk gradually more
and more. Harry first told how they earned money by
picking over the rags. Tom went out with the hand-cart
and collected th; m first. Some he picked up in back
streets and alleys, and at the ba. k-tloors of factories;
those were the dirty ones. Some were given bira for

40 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

taking them away, but those were not worth much, and
some he bought for a cent or two a pound Then he
and Bess would sort them, — there were different kinds
of sorting to be done. lie did only the sorting of col-
ored from white cotton rags. Tiess picked out the silk,
the leather, and the paper. "When they were sorted,
Tom took them away again, and sold them at the best
places for good prices.

'• ^Mother always had a rag-bag," said Nora.

But Harry was shy of talking about her mother. It
seemed as if it must be a painful subject. He did not
realize how far from Nora's mind was any fear of never
£nding her mother again. He had seen the grave look
in Bess's face, and understood it. He said nothing of
Nora's mother, just as Nora said nothing of his being
in bed, because she felt sure it was something dreadful
that kept him tliere. He was evidently not sick. His
clear bright e^^es, his chocrfid smile, the bus}' work of
his fair little hands, all proved that no pain was in his
small body, no fever dimmed and wasted his life Yet
onl}' from his wai t up did he seem alive He leaned
forward, or rested back upon his pillows, lie worked
briskly with hands and arras ; his head and face
moved and lighted up with quick, Iceen interest. But
as stationary as a rose in its garden patch, or a flower
upon a tree, was little llarr^' Canton in his wide cot-
bed.

THE birds' nest. 41

Nora told him, in return for his story about the rags,
how she and Jemmy used to play with raud-turt'.es in
Campfields brook, and turn them on their backs to see
them '"beg"; but how they alwaj'S took care to turn
them back again, right side up, before leaving them,
because Lester Grec had told them that the poor
turtles could never turn over themselves, and would die
so, if left on their backs. Ilarrj' listened with interest,
yet his pale face saddened slightly as he said, —

" We used to live in the country when father was a
minister."

" Was your father a minister?" asked Nora, in some
awe at conversing so familiarly with the child of such a
dignitarj-.

" Yes ; but it was ever so long ago, when I was very
little, — no bigger than Jemmj'."

Nora was rather relieved at this explanation, and
Harry went on to give more of his history.

" Father was sick, very sick, for a long time. We
came to the city to see a doctor here. It was a won-
derful doctor who could cure everything and everybody.
But he did not cure my father. I did n't know much
about it tlien Sometimes, since, I have heard Tom
and Bess speak of tliose times when we first came to the
citj^. We lived. in a better house, had more rooms, and
we did not work — we little ones ; but mother did, —
she was always at work. Then father died. That was

42 THE CHILDREN OF AMITf COURT.

long ago, — two or three years, I guess. Pretty soon
after that we moved into another house where we had
fewer rooms. Then into another, where we had onl}'
two rooms. Last summer we came here. But it is
prctt}' cold here in the winter. In the summer it does
very well. I heard Tom sa}' that we must get away
from here before winter cornea again, or we shall all
freeze."

" Don't you have a fire in the winter?" asked Nora,
with her earnest little face full of interest.

" O, 5es,all we can. But it costs lots of money, and
it does n't warm the room anj^. The wind blows in so
at the cracks ia winter ! Mother used to sit close to
the cliinine}' tliere, Avith her feet to the fire and the sun-
shine on her back, and then she said she was ver3'' com-
fortable. But sometimes there was not any sunshine,
and the snow sifted in through the roof, and made it
damp and chilly. Then mother would cough all day
long. But she kept on sewing just the same. 'T was
then that she thought about the rag business, and sent
Bess out when it was pleasant to gather all she could
find. For a long Avhile Bess would come with such
lil.ie lots. But by and by slie learned where to go to
find them, and what jjlaces had them to sell or give
away, and then some days she used to get more than
she could bring home at one load. Then mother said
we must have a hand-cart. She took off her ring, — it

THE birds' nest. 43

■was a beauty, — and told Tom to go and turn it into a
hand-cart. That sounds like fairy-tale wajs of doing,
I know ; but I suppose Tom only sold the ring, and
bought the hand-cart with the money. That was when
spring was coming, I know, because, after the hand-cart
was bought, mother let me sort rags. She would not
let me bef jre, because they were so cold to handle ;
she was afraid I might take cold from them and be sick."

Nora was sileut when Harry seemed to have made an
end of his recital. There were many things she would
have liked to know, but she forbore to ask. They sorted
a long time in silence, till a great yawn from Xora drew
Harr3'*s attention.

" You are tired. Where did j^ou sleep last night? "

" On the sidewalk and some doorsteps."

"You did? Could j'ou sleep there?"

" We had n't an3'where to go, you know. I did n't
sleep as sound as I do in bed."

'• Of course not," criel Harry, with a merry smile.
" Now 1 '11 tell 3'ou what 3'ou must do. Go and lie
down on that bed with Jemm}', and have a good nap till
Bess and To:n come back."

Nora hesitated ; but Harry insisted, and -she at last
consented. With her head upon the pillow, she fixed
her gentle black eyes on Harry's sininy head, and let
the pleasant vision be her last as the white lids slowly
slipped down, and Nora fell iuto a comfortable and
restful slumber.

\

44 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

CHAPTER IV.

THE BIRDS IN COUNCIL.

" T "WOULD as soon as you, Bess, if we only could,'*
J- said Tom Canton, rummaging rapidly in the
great heaps of rags he had tumbled from some large
sacks, upon the floor under the rear windows of the
]ong room.

Bess was setting out an afternoon meal be<"ween the
front windows at the farther end of their house. She
made no answer, save by a little sigh, and a mournful
glance towards the bed upon the floor, where lay Nora
and Jemmy, still asleep.

"You see," continued Tom, '' everything is changing
with the war. We do but barel}^ manage to live now.
I don't see how we shall make out to do that when
winter comes. And prices are going up, and rags are
scarce and high. Sometimes, Bess, I am afraid wo
shall starve, ourselves. So how can we take those two
children in? They can sleep here, of Course, but we
cannot possibly feed and clothe them ; so it is better

THE BIRDS I\ COUNCIL. 45

they should go where they cau be better cared for.
They are too young to be put to work."

Bess only sighed again, but this time the sigh was
taken up, and echoed from the small cot-bed, where
Harry, wearied with liis work, lay back upon his pillows,
pale and still. Bess heard it as well as Tom. Both
glanced towards him, and then went silently on with
their work.

" Ned's coming ! " said Harry, in a glad, soft voice,
a moment later.

The door opened and closed, admitting a figure so
full of life di'ollery, and shrewdness in every line and
motion, as to suggest wonder how it could have entered
without a heralding of boist-^rous noise, Ilarr}' raised
his face with a Wvlcoming smile, Ne 1 took it between
two rough, grimy little paws, an 1 grinned into it cheer-
fully. Anybody but Ned would have kis-ed it.

" Business is just snapping," was Ned's first remark ;
and, thrusting his hands into the two pockets of his
baggy pantaloons, he rattled the cents therein, then put
down a wad of veiy dirt}' little green rags upon the
dinner-table.

" See there ! And ti:e evening trade not begun yet !
Thought perhaps 3'ou M li e some before night, so I
ran home with it."

I'ess looked across to Tom. Tom was busy, and kept
his e^'es on his work. She gave one happy smile to the

46 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

generous provider who brought home his gains so freely.
Xed grinncvl back, but it was a grin of more sober and
thoughtful a character than the one he had bestowed on
Harry. His gray ej-es showed aa earnest, kind light.
Ilis white, ove:i teeth slipped bac'c behind tlie shrewd
lips, and hid qulto out of sight. His glance of hearty
good-will for the moment ontdazzled the great brown
patches of freckle on the stubbed, turned-up nose,
and the smaller, fainter ones upon his tough 3*oung
cheeks. For that moment Ned Canton's plain face was
quite lovable. Then the mischief and the swagger
came buck.

" Pretty soon, Bess, I '11 support the whole familj'' of
you. Tom can go into a connting-rr ">m, and we can
all live like th3 gentlefolks we are."

''AH but the newsboy who has to pa}' the bills," said
Tom. " You will not grow A'ery wealthy at your trade.
I never hoard of anj' one who did."

"Well, there 's a first tim3 to everything," returned
Ned, with his hand luxuriating among the jingling cop-
pers in his pocket.

" But 3'on see Bess and I are earning less now than
before the war. The war is killing our business."

" Is it? It is the making of mine. There was a
battle 3'csterday, and the papers go to-day as fast as
I can make change."

" I shall have to fia I something else to do. In a

THE lilKDS IX COUNCIL. 47

week there will be no more rag-picking for me. It will
take more capital to carry on ths trada thaa we can
raise."

"O, how do you know? Perhaps I can," replied
Ned, Avith a cheerful look, not without suggestion of a
mysteiy soiuswherc in hi i most interior thought. But
Tom asked no questions. It wa? a very common look
with Ned when he was hunting for an idea.

" Besides," continued To:n, " here are two children
who have drifted in on Bess, and she wants to keep them
with us. But they are too little to do anything. Look
at them ! "

Xed's eyes grew round. He walked down the long
room and looked at Nora and Jcmmv, flung down so
wearily on his own couch, — Nora's arm thrown across
Jemmy as if to protect him even in sleep. For a mo-
ment he looked. Then he whistled, very Ion ^ and very
low, not to wake them. Then the pucker slipped out
of his lips, and his customary grin took its place.

"If that isn't the little chap I saw fighting in the
court ! Only he did n't get on well at it, and so the girl
stepped in and took it herself.' Shu's a brick — that
little girl. Come, now, she could sell papers. There's
room for new-comers in the business. She could sell
for me, and I could get stock for her. Come now, Tom,
what 's better than that? "

" Do you suppose she would like it ? I should so like

48 THE CHILDREN Of AMITY COURT.

to have her stay ! " said Harry, gently. But Tom made
no reply.

'•' It would be hard, rough work. You ought not to
put her into it," said Bess, gravel}'.

" I 'il agree she shall get a living ; that is, pay for
the feeding of herself and the boy. When it comes to
clothes, — she must beg some, 1 suppose," Ned added,
in a lon-er tone, " if she can't buy them."

'• What do 3'ou say, Tom?" asked Bess.

*' Hullo ! " cried Ned, dropping into his former droll
attitude, hands on his knees and chin raised, his keen
eyes and inquisitive nose taking on an air of interested
inquir}-. Little Nora was sitting up on the bed, and
her soft, dark c^'es were raised in strong entreaty to the
unconscious face of Tom, who stood as arbiter of her
fate.

"Please do let us stay," she pleaded ; " it's so nice
here, and so near for mother to find us ! I '11 do anj'-
thiug you say, and so will Jemmy, won't you?" she
broke off, as Jemmy rolled over his sleepy red face at
sound of her voice.

" Ye-es," with both fists in his eyes, Jemmy replied.

" We '11 be very good."

Tom glanced up and smiled at her.^ Bess saw it, and
answered for him.

" Tom would like you to stay, as well as I, if we
can manage to get enough to eat."

TUE BIUDS IN COUNCIL. 49

" 0, we won't eat much ^" cried Nora. And Bess
smiled, remembering the breakfast. " Just till mother
comes, you know." The smile faded, and Bess turned
away her face.

" Come now, Bess, if we are going to have anything
to eat, 1 want mine now ! " cried Ned.

" It is all ready," was the reply.

Bess carried some of the bread and buns to Harry.
Tom left his rags, and began to wash his hands. There
were not chairs enough for all, so Ned stood up, and
Jemmy shared Nora's. Thus they made a cheerful
meal, enlivened by some droll stories, of which Ned had
always a stock on hand. When they had finished,
which was soon, he turned suddenly to Nora.

" Come, now, I want you to go with me and sell
papers for the evening's trade. 'T will be brisk to-night."

Nora looked up in his face with startled eyes, that
needed no words of surprise or inquiry.

" You said you 'd do anything we said, and you see
you '11 have to earn as much as you eat, you and the
little chap."

" But I don't know how ! " stammered Nora.

" O, I '11 show 3'ou, easy 'nough. Come ! "

Nora took up her little straw hat, and put on
Jemmy's.

" He can't go," succinctly stated Ned.

Nora obediently took off the hat from Jemmy's head.

50 THE CHILDUEN OF AMITY COUKT.

'• Yes, 111 will go too ! " screamed Jemmy, with great
emphasis.

A puzzled look crossed Nora's face. She had alwaj's
j-ielded to Jemmy's imperative will, but now she felt
there was some one else to be considered. The two
influences balanced, and produced momentary inaction.

'' No, you won't, my man," said Ned, who was accus-
tomed to bsing "considered something of a ruler among
small boj's '• Come, now, stay here like a good boy,
and we "11 come back by and b}."

" Hi sa}' I will go ! " shouted Jemmy ; and, seizing
his hat, he put it on again.

" But, Jemm^'," began Nora, softly, " I am afraid you
might get lost from rae, and then what should I do? "

" Find me," concisely replied the young lord of
creation.

" But supposing I couldn't, any more than we know
where to find mother ? "

" Hi '11 keep close hold of j'ou," said Jemmy, in a
conciliatory tone.

" Butj'ou 'd better sta}^ at home," put in Ne.l.

" But Hi won't ! 'T ain't *ome, nor nothing like it.'*

" Come," said Ned , twitching Nora's sleeve for t
strategic exit.

But Jemmy was too quick, and caught her other arm.

" Could n't he go? " falteringly asked Nora, torn by
the two.

THE BIRDS IN COUNCIL. 51

" You 'd lose him just as certain as he did," said
Ned. "Or else you'd be so busy looking after him,
you would n't sell the papers."

" Take one of the sack-ropes and tie them together,"
suggested Bess.

Ned grinned. He picked up one of the ropes that
were used to tie the sack-mouths, and saying, tersely,
" Come on, then," led the way down-stairs. Nora and
Jemmy quickly followed, and soon their steps were lost
to little Harry's listeuing ears.

Bess had cleared the table, and cleaned the few
plates. She was busy now making the bed for Harry.
She had first taken up the ph.le, thin child in her
motherly arms, and, wrapping an old shawl about
him, given him to Tom. It was a regular morning
and afternoon duty with them, — a relic of the old
home-days, when they felt they had a real home.
Tom sat down in the one low rocker, that had been
the mother's chair, and holding Harry in his arms as
gently and tcndcrl}' as had that mother, rocked softly
and slowly the little burden. It rested the child from
his wear}' bed. It was the happie-st part of his day, —
those two half-hours when Tom and Bess toolc turns to
hold and rock hm. AVhen the bed was thrown open and
tossed up for an airing, liess came and sat beside them.

" Do you suppose I sliall ever gi'ow any bigger?"
said Harr}', softly.

52 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

" O, yes!" Tom answered, cheerfully. "I can
remember when you were not half so large as now, —
out at Bruxrwood.

" But I have n't grown any since I came into the
city."

" Not so much, I suppose. None of us have. If we
were only rich enough to go back to Briarwood, you
would begin to grow," said J^ess.

" "Well, we shan't go," said Harry, with a mournful
sort of resignation.

" But 3'ou will grow some, here."

"I don't Avant to; because then I shall get too big
to be rocked. And how shall I ever bear it to lie in
bed all the time, and be too big to be taken up and
rocked ? "

'' O, is that it?" said Bess, with brightened face.
" We '11 always rock you, if 3'ou grow as big as Tom."

" You could n't."

" Yes, I could. I could rock Tom now.''

"Not if he took his feet up? " cried Harry, laughter
creeping up in his blue eyes and delicate face.

" Yes, indeed ! Let me take him now, Tom ; it 's my
turn "

" I 'm not tired," said Tom.

'' O, I did n't suppose you Avere," replied Bess ; " I
never am. But you can have him while I am spreading
up the bed, so I want him now."

THE BIRDS IX COUNCIL. 53

Tom 3'iclded the locker and his burdcai ; Bess
rocked, and meanwhile sang a little song their mother
taught them long ago. And Harry smiled sweetly, as
the motion and the music lulled the weariness from his
poor little body.

" I didn't do much to-da3% See ! " he said, pointing
to the rags he had sorted, when Bess had returned him
to Tom's care. " Seems to me I don't do nearly so
much in a day as when I ftrst began."

" Th re 's no need you should now. "We shall have
verj' few more rags to sort," replied Tom.

" And what will you do then ? "

" O, something else. I don't know exactly what,
yet," Tom said, absently.

The fresh bed stood ready, but Tom and Harry lin-
gered 3'et some time, talking pleasantly of many little
things. Then Harry was laid back upon the snowy
sheets, — the other bed boasted no such luxury, — and
Tom took up his hat.

" 1 am going again, Bess," he said ; " come and help
me."

'Bess followed him down the many stairs, saying, —
" Where are you going now? I thought you could get
no more to-day."

In the open doorway Tom sat down, and Bess sat
down beside him. The afternoon sun shone slanting
on the river, and f-parkled up into Amity Court. She

54 THE CniLDRKX OF AMTTY COUHT.

lifted her earnest, kindly face to his ; hut Tom turr.ed a
look of helpless trouble in reply. He had hid it from
Ilarr}-, but now he must pour out all his anxiety and
despair for Bess to soothe and brighten.

" If we had, say, fifty dollars, we could go on, and
make money perhaps. But as it is, we must give up."

" For want of mone}' ? " said Bess, with a faint smile.
" What a pity we are not rich rag-pickers ! "

"It is a. pit}', and no laughing either," Tom replied,
gloomily. " I was just beginning to see how to make
both ends meet, and perhaps save a few dollars towards
winter. I thought it would all go on smoothly and
salel}', now I had got started."

" And did you mean to be always a rag-picker?"
asked Bess, gravely.

*' Of course not ! " was the indignant reply.

" Then now 's tlie time to do something better."

"But what?"

" Well, I don't know yet what But when we can't
do the old way, there 's always a new waj', — gener-
al h* a better way, — only we must try hard, and seek
bravely in order to find it. I believe that just because
jou can't pick rags any more, 3'ou will find something
better to do."

" I wish I did," said Tom, gloomily.

"Try."

" But I don't know anything about it, nor do you."

THE BIRDS IN COUNCIL. 55

" God does," replied Bess, softly ; " and if we trj^, we
shall find out."

" Somehow, seems as if — " hesitated Tom, " I should
feel better if I knew myself."

A. puzzled little smile came on Bess's face. "Of
course," she said, " or there would n't be anything to
make you try. Have you been to see Cobden & Co.
again?" she asked, suddenly.

« Ko."

" You said Mr. Saunders promised you the next
chance."

" Yes ; and I went every week, till New-yeai''s ; and
I've been every month since till — " Tom stopped
short.

" Why not go again now?"

" I suppose I shall, some day. But it won't do any
good. I have n't any hope there. Mr. Saunders is only
the ' Co ' ; he is u't Mr. Cobden nor Mr. Waters. If
it had been the nice old gentleman who lost his pocket-
lKX)k and was helped out of a street row by me, it
would perhaps have amounted to something for me ;
for his word is law there. Or if Mr. Waters had taken
a fancy to me. he could have put me into a good place.
But, you see, I don't think Mr. Saunders can."

" You can go and try."

"Of course."

" Well, go to-day, won't you?"

56 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

"What for?"

" Wh}', just to make a beginning. ' To-day is the
very best day we have,' mother used to sa3^"

" Yes ; but if I put it off, I keep the chance.
After I go, and get ' No ' for an answer, it is lost."

" Then 3'ou do hope a little, after all," cried Bess,
merrily, as Tom moved away up the court.

COBDKN AND CO. 57

CHAPTER V.

COBDEN AND CO.

MR. COBDEN'S white hair was too utterly snowy
to have grown any whiter in the last five years.
His full, round, red foce was just as round and as red.
Something of the old strength and energy of manner
had perhaps slipped away from him. The firm lines of
his mouth and chin were a little relaxed. His step was
more feeble, and his stout walking-stick had grow^n to
be a friend for use rather than for amusement. He
came late to the counting-room, as was his custom.
He lingered for a few words with Mr. Saunders at the
desk in the outer oflSce. Then he went on, to the busi-
ness parlor beyond.

There, at a hand^some desk, sat Mr. "Waters, the
i:)ractical head of the firm, deep in a pile of papers that
were spi'ead before him. His crisp black hair, with its
irrepressible kink, was tossed and tumbled b}'' the
worrying of his nervous finger. His black brows were
bent in a most unpromising scowl. His black eyes
glowered in an anxious, gloomy manner.

58 THE CniLDKEN OF AMITY COURT.

llr. Cobden entered in the blandest humor. Put-
ting down his heavy gold-headed stick, and rubbing his
hands gently and cheerfully, he tottered up to his
nephew's chair. Mr. "Waters wheeled suddenly about,
at his approach, and shoved the papers aside. The
gloomy scowl would linger ; but he placed a chair for
his uncle, and greeted him carelessly, as is the wont
between business men Avho meet daily.

"That's a good thing — a good thing — of Saun-
ders 1 " began the old man. " "We shall make a cool
twenty thousand by it. He's developing a talent for
business. Keeps his eyes open like a wide-awake
man. Can't imagine how he managed to get such a
bargain."

" Yes ; Saunders seems to hare made a pretty neat
thing of that agreement," replied Mi\ Waters, ab-
stractedly.

" Saunders is going to make a smart business man.
Whoever the goose is that has agreed to import him
u bill of goods at such prices must get badly bitten.
But Ave can afford it if he can; hey, Dick?"

" Ye-es," with an absent shuffle of his papers.

" Another year we must settle new terms for Saun-
ders. His services will be worth more. We must
allow him something handsome; hey, Dick? Don't
you think he ought to share more equally with us?'*

"How much capital docs he represent?"

COBDEN AND CO. 59

""Well, not much, not much, I admit. Very few
thousand, I know. But it's all he has got, j'ou see.
And that's just what we put in! Hey, Dick?"

Mr, Waters laughed. It was an uncomfortable
and rather a disagreeable laugh. But it answered
every purpose as well as a better one. Mr. Cobden
laughed too, in a pleased, simple-hearted manner ; and
perceiving that his nephew was preoccupied and dis-
traught, walked away to his own desk at the other side
of the room, and sat down there.

Very few books or papers cumbered Mr. Cobden's
desk. What few belonged there were not in so frequent
use as to prevent their being kept in excellent and
orderly arrangement. Mr. Cobden sat down, and
looked at them in rapt contemplation. He was trying
to think of something to do with them. He had years
ago giA'en up all active participation in the business of
the firm which in his earlier manhood he had founded
and fostered. But he loved to watch its growth and
prosperity. lie loved to hear of all its interests, risks,
and good fortune. It was the darling of his heart ;
and for its sake, having no children of his own, he had
adopted his nei-hew, Kichard "Waters, and made him
his own successor, to take the helm that he knew him-
self no longer able to hold. But his whole life was
still in and for the firm. It gi-ieved him sometimes
that there was nothing he could do for it. It grieved

CO THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

him now, as he sat staring blankly at his own private
books and papers. How dusty they were for want of
constant use? They might at least be dusted, and so
look as if they were in bus}'^ requisition. But it was
not his business to dust the office, and he did not know
where to find the feather-brush.

"Where's Louis?" he inquired of Mr. Saunders,
putting his head through the door into the outer office.

" Don't know. He has n't come."

" Not come ! " And Mr. Cobden brought his whole
portly person through the door, and went up to Mr.
Saunders' desk. " Not come ! " consulting his watch.
"Why, 'tis twelve o'clock!"

" I know it. I 'm afraid he is side."

"Well, but if he is sick, you know, he may not come
for a week."

Mr. Saunders was reading a letter, and did not
immediately reply.

" Everything is getting dusty and dirty," pursued
Mr. Cobden, fretfully. " You must get some one else
at once. The place is n't fit to live in to-day." And he
kicked under the table a wad of crumpled paper that
had escaped the waste-basket.

" Patrick swept out this morning," quietly replied
Mr. Saunders, laying down the letter he had finished
reading.

" My desk is so dusty I can't touch it," grumbled

COBDEN AND CO. 61

the old man again, displaying a grimy cuff that had
leaned too closely upon the objectionable piece of
furniture.

Mr. Saunders smiled merrily'. When he was not too
busy, Mr. Cobden's fretfulness was apt to be an amuse-
ment to him. If busy, it was an intolerable annoy-
ance, and required all his patience and self-control to
restrain hasty and angry replies. Now, however, he
was not very busy, and on account of the success
of his last project was in the best of humor ; so he
walked into the parlor, took the feather-brush from its
peg in the closet, and neatly and carefully dusted off
ever}' inch of Mr. Cobden's desk and chair. His con-
descension was even so extensive, that, having begun,
he went on and dusted all the furniture of the hand-
somely appointed room.

Meanwhile, Mr. Waters sat gloomily bowed over his
desk, his 03'es gazing blankly, his face bLick and drawn,
and his whole consciousness absent from what trans-
pired around him ; and Mr. Cobden indulged in little
disconnected phrases of talk, in whiffs, as he stumped
up and down the room with his cane.

" Boj's ought to be regular — reliable. / always
was M'hen — boy. Times changed. Louis LeGrange
was never just the boj^ for this i)lace. Unstiddy. Off
a day here and a day there. Tidy boy. Well-behaved.
But unstiddj'."

62 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

" He has been sick, you know," suggested Mr Saun-
ders.

" No business to be sick. I'm never sick. Get an-
otlier bo}' — to-morrow — to-da}'. One that'll stick
stiddy to business."

Mr. Saunders had finished dusting, and returned to
his desk. But the duty of getting a new boy was by
no means on his mind. Patrick could sweep out. One
of the clerks could dust and tidy up sufficiently to sat-
isfy fussy old Mr. Cobden ; and there was little need
of a bo3\

A rustle of soft silks startled the business ears that
heard that sound but seldom in these grim precincts.
In at the open door of the office swept the sheeny, sibi-
lant lobes, and on through the doorwaj^ of the office
parlor. Mr. "Waters heard, and the slight sound woke
him from the revery which more obtrusive interruptions
had failed to break.

Mrs, "Waters sailed across the office parlor, wearing
her sweetest smile, and stood behind her husband's
chair.

The crisp, black hair and frowning brows biecame
alert, but Mr. "Waters did not raise his eyes or turn his
bead. He had seized a pen, at the first warning rustle
of her approaching silks, and was now so intent in
copying a bill that happened to lie before hun, that he

COBDEN AND CO. 63

seemed utterly incapable of noticing anything that
might transpire.

" I told 30U I woulci come down, Richard, and so I
have," she said, in amiable accents

Mr. "Waters raised his head and looked at her, with
an angr}' glance in his black eyes that suggested any-
thing but pleasure at her fidelity to the promise, or
strong mutual affection between the man and wife thus
placed, for the moment, face to face.

But the lady feigned unconsciousness of whatever
might be disagreeable in the reception she met, and
continued, —

" Ma and Ria have been over to see me this morning*,
and jna thinks it will hardly cost so much as I said.
Perhaps a hundred or two less. And if it isn't con-
venient for 3'ou to furnish the two hundred I want to-
daj', ma will let me have it, and you can repa^' her in a
few daj's."

Another flash from the black eyes. Mr. "Waters rose,
and walked once or twice across the floor. Then he
passed hastily through the outer office. But he stopped
at the warehouse door. Out-ide was. Mr Meredith's
elegant carriage, and in it s:it Rlrs. Meredith and her
beautiful widowed daughter. Mrs. Meredith nodded,
and shook her little delicately gloved hand at him mer-
rily, as she greeted him. Mr. Waters returned the
" Good-ino:ning" gruffly.

64 THE CHILDREN OV AMITY COURT.

" You must n'L keep Sophy long ! " she said. " We
are waiting, 3'ou see."

" She had not told me that," he said, with a more
gracious bow for the fair young widow who had shrunk
back into the corner and her crapes at his approach.
'' I must go out on an errand for her ; but I '11 be back
in a few minutes."/

Then he hastened down the sidewalk. He had only
thought, at first, to escape from his wife ; now he
thought no more of that. There was no escape. Mrs.
Waters wanted two hundred dollars to spend in prelira-
inaiy repairing and enlarging her costly wardrobe for a
summer trip among the watering-jDlaces with her mother.
Mr. Waters wanted all the money he could command,
for some business ventures of his own. Such little
contretemps frequently occuiTed between them, owing
to an utter want of unity in their interests. Generally
Mr. Waters was master of the situation. To-day Mrs,
Meredith Avas arrayed with her daughter against him ;
and he was vanquished. Ten minutes later he re-en-
tered the counting-room, silently laid the required
money before his wife,- and timed his back upon her
Mr. Waters cultivated taciturnity in all liis family
relations. He considered it dignified to do so. Per-
haps he admired the virtue more because it was one
in which his wife was sadly deficient.

The more angiy Mrs. Waters was, the faster she

COBDEN AND CO. 65

talked ; Ihe more angry Mr. "Waters was, the more
utterl}' and implacably silent he became. It would be
hard to decide which method was the more irritating
and exasperating to the other.

Mrs. Waters gathered up the money into her pocket-
Dook, and with a very cheery good-morning, addressed
airilj^ to wan is the square shoulders of her inattentive
spouse, who was wati hing the evolutions of a flock of
pigeons on the rear slope of an opposite roof, she
swept out to the carriage, and was driven away.

"When she was gone, Mr. "Waters left the window and
again sat down at his desk, with the old frown on his
brow. He had not addressed one word to his wife, nor
did he, for hours, speak to any one. He was busily por-
ing over plans and expedients in the business world that
formed the chief arena of his life.

Tom Canton came bravely up the warehouse steps,
but he stopped at the door of tlie counting-room. lie
missed a face he had learned to look eagerly for, — one
that had always a smile for him. It was that of Louis
LeGrange. lie was not there. Louis had heard Tom's
frequent applications, had pitied his many disappoint-
ments, and once had followed him to the door to offer
his sympathy and say how glad he should be if they
only would take Tom, for he was sure he would be a
pleasant work-fellow. It had cheered Tom's heart won-
derfully, though he knew the boy was a friend who

66 THE CHILDKE?f OF AMITY COURT.

could have no power to aid him. To-day he missed
those great, clear ej'cs that had alwa^'s looked out from
the fair, delicate face with pleasant welcome for him.
lie stood, hat in hand, just inside the door. A clerk
looked up, and asked his errand.

" I came in to see if there was work enough to need
another boj" here," said Tom, slowly, all the time won-
dering whore Louis was.

" There is a boy wanted, I believe ; is n't there, Mr.
Saunders ? " said the clerk.

" Call to-morrow, and I '11 see," was the curt reply,
without turning the head.

Tom was astonished, hurt ; but surely Mr. Saun-
ders did not know it was he. Mr. Saunders had prom-
ised him, last winter, the next chance there was in the
warehouse. Tom came forward, and stood before Mr.
Saunders' desk.

" Is there a place for a boy now? "

"0, it's 5'ou, is it?" said M:'. Saunders, a little
less ungraciously'. " "Well, I can't tell exactlj^, to-day.
Louis has n't come, but he mxy bo here to-morrow."

"0, I don't want to take awa}^ Louis's place!"
cried Tom, full of generosity'- for his friend.

'* Xo, of cours:.? not," quickly assented Mr, Saunders.
" And so, 3'ou see, I don't like to make any talk about
it, now — that is, until I hear from him."

"What's that? What's that?" cried Mr. Cobden,

COBDEN AND CO. 67

suddenly, as bis Avhite head and rosy face popped out
from the office-parlor. " No keeping places for lads
that aren't stiddy at their work. "Who is this lad?
Some one j-ou know ? "

" No," said Mr. Saunders. Then seeing the angry
color flash into Tom's face at this denial of him, he
hastily added, " Not exactly' what t/o?t would call an
acquaintance, — knowing all his lineage back for three
or four generations, — but I know him personally a
little."

" "Well, what do 30U know of him ? " interrogated the.
old man.

" I know nothing against him, except that he is
poor,'' replied Mr. Saunders, with a laugh.

" Might be cured — might be cured ! " cried Mr.
Cobden, laughing heartil}'. " "Was poor myself once.
Got over it, though. Come to-morrow morning in good
season, lad, and hav'e the office swept and dusted, and
put in good shape. I hate an untidy office. Mind
now ! At half-past seven, sharp ! I like a lad that 's
smart and lively."

" Louis will probably be here to-morrow," coolly
suggested Mr. Saunders.

" Can't help it — can't help it! Should have been
here to-day ! Mind and be on hand ! " And wamiqgly
shaking his heavy stick at him, Mr. Cobden retreated
to the inner office.

68 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

Tom bowed assent, but still hardly knew whether to
consider himself engaged to work for the firm or not.
He stood irresolute ; when Mr. Saunders, who had
ignored his presence the moment Mr. Cobden was gone,
suddenly turned on him, saying, —

'• Did n't you understand Mr. Cobden to hire j'ou for
to-morrow? He does n't want anything of you to-day."

Tom hastily bowed and retired. Hut it was all too
strange and surprising for him to realize, until after he
had talked it over with Bess, and accustomed his mind
to it by hearing the glad congratulations of his
brothers.

Louis LeGrange did not come next morning, but
Mr. Saunders contrived to intimate to Tom that he was
only employed temporaril}'^ till Louis should return.
Mr. Cobden, however, in the office-parlor, praised Tom's
quick readiness, and said, " Keep on and improve, my
lad, and you shall find a good place here. Kemember
you are on trial now — on trial ; and your prospects all
depend on yourself."

Tom, counting Mr. Cobden a more influential patron
than JNIr. Saunders, was accordingly encouraged, and
felt secure in his position. But he did sometimes
wonder what had become of Louis LeGrange.

BRISK BUSINESS. 69

CHAPTER VI.

BRISK BUSINESS.

NED stopped on the front steps and tied the rope
around Jemmy's waist, knotting it firmly behind.
Jemmy essayed remonstrance, but Ned coolly told him
that no rope meant not going, while Nora suggested,
" Perhaps we shall find mamma somewhere in the
street." Thus persuaded, Jemmy submitted, and they
walked up the court, Nora holding Jemmy by the hand,
while Ned ostensibly " carried the rope," — carried it,
however, with a good, firm grip that would not have
yielded to any sudden strain. Ned had already seen
enough of Jemmy's peculiarly enterprising disposition
to be ou his guard agaiast surprises.

It was some distance to the newspaper office, and
Jeminy saw a great many interesting and curious
objects that challenged investigation. But in some
remarkable way he had already come to stand in consid-
erable awe of Ned, — a boy who could stop a fight by
mere word of mouth, without fisty emphasis, who seemed

70 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COUUT.

to liave command of unlimited resources, and carried
nniniagined riches of nickels in his trowser-pockets.
Jemmy had submitted to him with unusual docility, as
soon as the chink of desirable pennies proved to him
Ned's wonderful ability. Thus it was that, notwith-
standing the temptations of the waj', the little party
reached the newspaper office without any serious acci-
dent, or even sharp skirmishing.

Ned quickly secured a large package of the evening
papers, and they again started forth. In a doorway
Ned divided the papers, counting carefully the number
he gave to Nora

" Here are twenty papers to begin with," he said,
" and now I '11 give you a doUar in pennies to make
change. Three from ten are how many?" he asked,
suddenly.

" What? " queried Nora anxiously, holding Jemmy's
wrist firmh- while he squirmed to catch sight of a tall
man in scarlet uniform, who happened to be passing.

" TVliew ! " whistled Ned. " I never thought about
the arithmetic. Supposed, of course, you could make
change "

" Perhaps I can,"-* ventured Nora. " How do you
make it ? "

Ned laughed. " Not till you can count."

" I can count," protested Nora.

" Let 's hear," ordered Ned, with attention.

BRISK BUSINESS. 71

Nora counted rapidly till Ned stopped her iu the fifties.

" How far can you go on in that way ; " he asked.

" Tp a hundred."

" Well, the papers are three cents apiece. Now if
a man gave you a ten-cent scrip, what should you do? "

" Why — ask him if he had n't got three cents," hes-
itated Nora.

Ned lauglied again. " You never traded mucli," he
said, with a shade of disappointment following ihe
laugh. " .Supposing he had nt got the three cents, — if
he had, he would have given them to jou in the first
place, — could n't you give him back pennies enough to
make up for what he gave you too much ? "

" O, yes," said Nora, brightening "Jemmy, don't
pull so ! "

" How many?" asked Ned.

Nora picked up the end of Jemmy's rope and handed
it to Ned. Then she took a handful of the pennies Ned
had put in her pocUet, counted out ten, and put the
surplus back, took three into tlie other hand, and after
rapidly counting the remainder, announced the change
to be seven cents.

Ned looked on through this somewhat complicated
performance, though Nora both moved and coinite 1 rap-
idl}-, with rather a doubtful face

" I don't know whether they will care to stop for all
that," he said, slowly.

72 THE CHILDREN OF AMITT COURT.

" Then they would n't get the seven cents," said Nora,
■wonderingl3%

Ned laughed again. " No, so they would n't. I
guess you '11 manage somehow," hs added, with bright-;
ening face. Then he proceeded to give some instruc-
tions, taking care to fix in her mind the amount of
change to be made from a five, ten, and twenty-five cent
piece, saving she would hardly have occasion to change
anything else. He tied Jemmy with rather a short
rope to the iron clamp of the shutter of a large show-
window, Nora meanwhile calling his attention to the
beauties theiein displayed. Ned also pointed out to
Nora the tall building opposite with a colored sign, the
two adjacent corners, and the flag on a neighboring
roof. Bidding her keep near the place and offer a
paper to ever}' man who passed, Ned moved away,
promising to return soon and see how she got on.

"Nora, see! O, Nora, there's a hand-organ!"
shrieked Jemin}', struggling vainl}^ with his rope.

" Get out the way, j'ouugster ! " said a gruff, but
not unkind voice, as a burly man shoved Jemmy and
his tether bade into the doorway. Then Nora ran
bade from her curbstone to sa}', —

" You must n't call me, Jemmj", because I shall be
so busy I can't hear you ; and j'ou must n't stretch
the rope across the sidewalk, or the people Avill fall
over it. Sit down here on the step, and watch all the

BRISK BUSINESS. 73

people, and see if you can find mamma. I have to
ask the men to buy papers, so I don't see the women.
You must keep watch of them. Now, be a good boy,
Jemm}', won't you?"

"Ye-es," was the grave reply, the bhie e3^es of
the speaker fixed on the passing throng.

" Paper, sir? Paper, sir? Have a paper sir?"

It was not at all like the usual shrill tones of news»
venders. One after another stopped, with a smile for
the timid little face and voice, and produced the requi-
site pennies to purchase of the news- girl. She changed
fives and tens successfully many times, though some-
what to the amusement of the waiting customer. The
afternoon was waning ; the sidewalk became crowded.
Ned had been twice to look at her, and supply her with
more papers. He was stationed some two blocks
lower down the street. Jemmy would get into fre-
quent dilemmas with his tether, impatience, and ex-
citement ; but Nora managed to keep him tolerably
contented, and yet have time for her work. She
scarcely dared look up into the faces. Seeing so many
strange "ones frightened hi-r ; and some of them were
anything but pleasant or sunshiny. So she kept her
timid, black eyes on the pavement, and offered her
papers before each pair of advancing legs. One hand
that took a paper offered in payment a half-dollar.

Nora looked at it aghast. She had utterly forgotten

74 THE CHILDKEK OF AMITY COURT.

how it was she was to change the twentj-five cent piece,
— and this she saw had a fifty on it, and so perhaps
wasn't a twenty-five cent piece at all. Puzzled and
frightened, she lifted a pleading face to her customer.

" Can't 3'ou change it?" he asked, kindly.

" Xo, sir ; I don't know how," she said, sadly.

"O, is that all? Let mo see 3'onr change, and I'll
show you how."

Nora took out a handful of scrip, pennies, and post-
age-sta-.np3 fro:n her pocket, and held it up in both
hands for th9 g2ntleman's inspection. As she did so
she lookeil up once more into his face. There was a
smile on it, half of a:uuseaient and half of kindness ;
his hair poepod in soft, brown waves from beneath a
light, straw hat ; beard, thin and brown, shaded his
mouth and chin ; and a pair of gentle, deep, brown
eyes were looking quietly down on the mass of dirty
cash o;Tered for his choice. Noi-a was glad when the
dainty-gloved fingers selected the cleanest piece. It
seemed appropriate. Then he went on turning it over
gingerl}', and picking out other pieces. Nora stood
quietly, her papers tucked imder her arm, her little
s.i.nrner hat fallen back on her shoulders, and the fine
i lark hair in a frizzy cloud around her flushed fixce, jos-
tle! often 1)3' the passers, both hands upstretched with
the change, and her mind full of wonder at the number
of pieces it took to make change for fifty cents. A

BRISK BUSINESS.

75

sudden shriek fi*om Jemmy sent a cringe of dread over
the poor little girl. What had happened now there
was no knowin-;. She jammed the change back in her
pocket, and, followed by her customer, rushed away
in season to catch a glimpse of Jemmy's red and dis-
torted face over the siioulder of a tall policeman, who
was carrying him oflT bodily.

" O, please — ■ please, sir ! ' crie 1 Xora, catching the
stem officer by the skirt of his dark blue coat, •' don't
carry him off! lie's ray Jemmy," she added, in reply
to his look of surprise. " lie '11 be good, sir, he '11 be
verj' good, if you '11 only put him down. I '11 take care
of him."

" Can't have him tied there across the sidewalk,"
said the ofRcer, decidedl}'. "I've chucked'^ him back
into that doorway three times this afternoon already.
I ought to have carried him away befo: e now."

" But hi won't go out of the doorway again ; will
you, Jemm}' ? "

" No," was the cowed answer. Jemmy had ceased
his tempest of expostulation when Nora came to the
rescue, and was now sniffling mildly, and wiping his
face on his sheve.

The officer looked about in perplexity. It was his ^uty
to keep the streets clear, but he didn't like to be cruel.

" You had better take your brother home," he said to
Nora.

76 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

*' So I will — very soon. Bat I cloa't know the way,
• — till Ned comes for me."

" He will hardly make any more trouble to-night,"
said Mortimer Salsb\', with a pleasant smile in mouth
and eyes, as he stood, still holding his newly-bought
paper in one hand, and some bits of money in the
other.

"Well, we'll see, "replied officer Staut, doubtfully,
as he put Jemmy on his feet again, and twisted his
tether round his waist, with a laugh.

*• I want two cents more," said Mr. Salsb}^ to Nora.

" Confound two cents ! You won't break if we go
without 'era ! " exclaimed another gentleman, who,
Nora now first noticed, was waiting for Mr. Salsby.

But Mr. Saisby vouchsafed no reply to the snappish
words, and having received the two cents explained to
Nora that two twenty-fives made fift}', and then slowly
counted over the change to her. Nora listened atten-
tively, for she i<new she must learn.

" Thank you, sir," she said, looking up with pleased
face, and thinking how kind he was, and that no one
else had spokon a single word to her. To be sure, he
would not, if she could have changed his money. But
Nora did not think of that.

" It is new work for you, I see," the gentleman said.

" Yes, sir ; I never did it till to-day. But I '11 soon
learn ; and Jemmy '11 bo good when he gets used to it."

BRISK BUSINESS. 77

Jemmy had kept tight hold of Nora's dress, ever
since the policeman set him on Ms feet again.

Mr. Salsb}' took a silver quarter from his vest-
pocket, saying, —

" There 's a luck-pennj' for your fix-st day. I '11
hope to bu}' papers of you again sometime."

" Not if it takes h3r so long to make change,"
growled Mr. "\Vat(TS, as they walked away, leaving
Nora OA'ercomc with gratitude, and a rush of tears that
had somehow come crowding into her eyes, though she
had not the least desire to cry. ""Women never do
have any idea of money."

Mr. Salsby looked gravely in his companion's face.
"Then j'ou call her a woman?"

" She will be if she grows up " was the careless
reply, and Mr. Salsby's eyes wandered disappointedly
away. " They are all alike — women," contempt-
iioush' added INIr. Waters, with an angry, discontented
cloud in his sharp ej'es.

'' I think if your acquaintance had been more
extended, j'ou would be of a different mind. It does
not follow that no woman knows the value of money
because some do not."

" They are all alike. Mrs. Sleredith, ]\Irs. Donald-
sou, and my wife," muttered Mr. "Waters. " All
Merediths, and all alike, the whole family."

" Nonsense ! " was the half-earnest, half-laughing

78 THE CHILDHEX OF AMITY COURT.

exclamation. " Tliero is marked clifTarence in the
character of the ladies you have soen fit to introduce.
A family similarity of course there is, but it is of the
Roberts family, please observe, not the Meredith."

Mr. "Waters stopped short in his walk for a moment,
as if it were a new thought to him, then went mood-
ily on.

"What is the matter with j'ou to-day, "Waters?"
resumed Mr. iSalsby, more cheerily.

'' "Well, I am savage, I admit, I have just planned a
fine new branch for the business, and we want to intro-
duce it immcdiatelj^ ; and as things stand now, our
capital is all in, and we must negotiate a loan some-
where before we can enlarge as we want to. 1 hate to
work On borrowed capital. "We should aim to pay it
ofi", fast as possible. But we must begin so. I would
not favor undertaking it, if it was n't going to be a
specially good thing. Have n't you gut a few spare
thousand to invest at a big per cent? "

" You know ni}' propert}^ is all in real estate."

" You might sell some. This would pay better."

" No, I woulil raiher not do that. "Why don't yoa.
put off enlarging for the present, while everything is so
high? "When the war is over, such a change will come
easier."

" Ah, but now is just the time to make it go ! By
and by will be too late."

BUISK BUSINESS. 79

They had reached the door of Mr. "Waters' handsome
bouse, and with a few words of farewell, parted.

Meanwhile Nora still stood in her place, offering her
papers, and selling many to the passers on the now
teeming sidewalk.

" Stay close by me," she said earnestly to Jemmy.
And Jemmy seemed to have no disposition to disobey.

The crowd jostled and hurried by. The sale of
papers slackened ; Nora looked about, and found no
Jemmy at her side. It was perhaps five minutes since
she last felt him pull at her dress, and luan close against
her to avoid being brushed awa^^ by the hurrying people.
Nora looked up and down the sidewalk, dodging in and
out among the passers. But no Jemm}' could she find.
She called, but her voice seemed to go only a few
inches from iier, and served merely to fix .many wonder-
ing eyes on herself. When she had searched as far as she
dared to go from her post, and found no trace of him,
she stepped in an agony of terror within ttie doorway
where he had first been placod. She was growing very
tired ; and the heat, weariness, and fear were too much
for hor to bear. There wus nothing to be done but
wait for Ned. She dared not go away. And how long
it seemed since Ned had brought her the last papers !
Dropping her head in her hands upon her lap, the sobs
c ame chokmg in her throat, and would not be crowded
back.

80 TnE CHlLDliEN OF AMITY COURT.

" Here he is, Nora ; dou't cry," said Ned's cheerful
voice ; and Nora looked up to see Jemmy standing
beside her, with a decidedly crestfallen and disgusted
air.

Jemmj' had been tempted by a monke}', riding home
on a hand-organ. He followed it only a few steps.
Seeing this, the organ-grinder asked if he would like to
feed the monkey. Of course, Jemmy would like noth-
ing better. The man said, " If you will go along to a
place where I can set down the organ, you shall feed the
monkey with a cake." And Jemmy went. At first
very willingly ; but when they had crossed a street he
began to hesitate, and the organ grinder took hold
of his wrist just as everybod}' else always did. Then
it was that a pair of sharp eyes spied him out, and
Ned's salutation, more energetic than complimentary,
sounded in his ears.

" Here, you little rat ! what are you nmning off with
that monkey for ? "

The organ-grinder obsequiously explained, that he
was going to let him see the monkey eat his supper.
Perhaps he would not have j'ielded up his captive so
readil}', were it not for Officer Staut who stood uear,
looking sternly on.

" Come, we '11 go home now," said Ned. " It is time
this young traveller was asleep, — and 3'ou too."

Snug in the twilight of the " birds' nest," they told

BRISK BUSINESS. 81

their adventures ami, counted their money. Jemmy
could with difficulty keep awake till his supper was
eaten.

Tom was there too, with his good news ; and joy
and happiness prevailed.

" This has been sucli a nice day ! " said Harry, turn-
ing his blue eyes from one to another with loving looks,
— each one a caress. " I wish things would happen,
and people come here every day."

" If people came every day, there would have to be
people going away too," said Bess, " and that would
not be so pleasant."

" I 'm so glad Nora can stay," replied Harry, softly.

Nora went timidly and kissed him good-night. A
third bed had been arranged on the floor. A curtain
that hung against the wall was stretched across, divid-
ing the room. Ned was soon asleep beside Jemmy.
Tom took what had before been Bess's place in Harry's
cot ; while Bess and Nora made themselves as com-
fortable as they could in the new bed curtained off in a
comer. Tired out, but all very happy, they slept
soundly till the sun peeped in with the morning.

82 THE CUiLDUEN OF AMITY COUfiX.

CHAPTER VII.

PLANS.

" /^UEER work for a girl," said Tom Canton, look-

^^\j ing dubiously after the i-etreating figures of Ned
and Nora as they went softly out, taking Jemmy with
them, earl}' the next morning.

Tom and Bess were moving quietly about without
shoes, for Ilarrj' was not yet awake. The little invalid
was generally wakeful all the first part of the night,
and found his best sleep after one or two o'clock in the
morning.

Ned's business required an early start, and the
children had all learned the gentleness that tender
care of a weaker dear one never fails to impart. So
Harry slept softl}', while Tom noiselessly sorted their
last sack of rags, and Bess sat mending some of Ned's
sadly worn clothes. At Tom's words she looked up
with a troubled glance, but did not speak.

At length Harry moved, lifted his arms with a weary
little yawn, and said '' Good-morning " pleasantly.

PLANS. 83

"Had a good sleep?" asked Bess, with a bright
smile of morning welcome.

" Yes Has Ned been long gone ? "

" Half an honr."

"And Nora?"

" She went with him."

*' I think we had better send them to the asylum,"
said Torn.

" O, don't ! " said Harry.

And Bess added, " Not yet."

" It will be only putting it off," said Tom, " for in
the end we shall have to take them there when we go
ourselves."

" O, no ! " cried Bess, heartily. " How can 3^ou say
so, Tom, when 30U have just got work yourself, and we
shall all do better than ever, soon ? "

" Don't you know that I may be turned off any day
from my new place ? I have not a particle of confi-
dence in that Saunders, and I know he does n't want
me to stay. Even if I sta}'^, my pa}"" will be little more
than I have been earning, and 3^ou will have nothing
at all to do."

"■ You arc greatly mistaken, Tom Canton, if 3'^ou
tliink I am going to do nothing," replied Bess,
warmly.

"You'll have to do that till you get something to
do," retorted Tom, gloomily.

84 THE CniLDREK OF AMITf CODKT.

"Of course. And getting something is just what I
am going about."

" The getting is neither pleasant nor profitable, only
the doing pays."

Bess laughed uneasily. " You have got up wrong
side out this morning."

Tom looked up witli a forced smile, tliat instantly
gave place to his former expression of grave concern.
" Perhaps so ; but really, Bess, things don't look quite
clear to me, if they have mended a little. I would as
lief starve quickly from having nothing to eat, as by
Inches for never having enough.''

"O, Tom, how can you?" cried Bess, glancing anx-
lousl}' at Harry, whom she did not like to have hear
such discouraging talk.

" Well, I '11 hold my tongue."

" And I 've been thinking, Tom, of how to arrange
things. I have a plan already. I can sell papers with
Ned and Nora. Ned says there can't be too many in
that business since the war."

" You 're too old," said Tom, decidetlly.

'•Too old? "Why, 3'ou sold papers till six months
ago ! and I 'm only just thirteen. I 'm not too old at
thirteen, if you were not at fifteen."

" You 're a girl," oracularly pronounced Tom.

Bess colored painfully, and was silent. She felt for
some reason too much shamed by this simple statement

PLANS. 85

to (lure open her mouth further. Yet why, she could
not hnagine. Neither could Harry, and he asked, —

"AY hat of that?"

Tom glanced up, but did not at once reply. The
truth was, he did not know how.

" Girls have to eat all the same," pursued Harry,
thoughtfully, " and sometimes they have to earn what
they eat."

" Which is a great pity," said Tom, earnestly.

" I don't think so," said Bess, quietly.

A long silence followed. Ilany broke it.

" Tom, why don't 3'ou tell us just why you don't want
Bess to sell papers ? "

" I have told you."

" Being a girl is no reason."

" Yes, it is ; because newsboys lead a rough life ; they
swear, and do and say all manner of coarse, low things !"

" "Well, you did n't ; and 3'ou don't suppose Bess
would?"

" No, but I don't want her to see and know anything
about it."

"Well, Tom, I shouldn't," said Bess. "I don't
believe they would evei- be rude to me, because I should
never be rude to them, and because — well, perhaps
because I am a girl ! "

" Of course they would n't be rude to you, but you
would see and hear coarse, profane talk."

86 THE CIIILDUEX OF AMITY COURT.

" Really, Tom, I had no thought of associating with
newsboy's any more than I have before. Having
two brothers in the business, I could n't heli) some
acquaintance with that dreadful race. I presume
there are other good boys who sell papers. And I
make ni}- friends, not for their happening to be in the
same work, but because they are worth having for
friends."

" Then there 's the exposure in the street, all
day."

" O, I was used to that when I went for rags ! We
can't have such storms as last winter."

"I did n't mean that. But pushing round among
strangers all da}' long. Suppose some one should
carry j'ou off? ' .

Bess laughed out heartily. " Why, Tom Canton,
what an absurd idea! Nobody could, unless I were
fool enough to follow a monkey or some such thing, as
Jemmy did. And j'ou Jcnow I have sense enough to
attend to my business, and call a policeman if any one
hinders me."

" Tom 's cross about something this morning," said
ITarry, consolingly.

" I 'ra sorry he is so set against it," Bess said,
gravely, " because there is really nothing else I can
find to do just no.w. I 've thought over everything,
and so, I shall have to sell papers." It was very

PLANS. 87

quietly and soflly said, but there was firm resolve under
the gentleness.

" I shall be very much displeased, Bess, if j'ou do,"
said Tom, with authority.

Bess dropp d her work in her lap, and rocked in the
mother's low rocker, silently, with her eyes gazing
straight forward as if they would look far down the dim
future. But there was no doubt in their clear depths,
no wavering about the still, grave mouth.

" Don't be cross, Tom," pleaded Harry. " I'm sure
Bess would n't do an3'thing that was n't l>est to be done."

But Tom made no reply as he hurried on with his
work, anxious to finish and sell these last rags before
he began the day's work at his new place.

"And Tom,*' persisted Ilarr}', turning his pure, pale
little fixce upon the pillow, " what 's the use of all this
fussing about boys' work and girls' work ? There is n't
really any diflTerence, except what 5'ou think into it
yourself."

Tom raised his head, and looked thoughtfully at the
delicate face turned towards him.

" You know, when we were little, we all used to play
and talk and think the same, and Bess was just like
the rest of us, — we never thought of telling her she
was a girl. And I know she thinks and feels just aa
you do now. And there isn't really any difference,
only in j'our thinkir.g about it."

88 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

It was Tom's turn to blush now. Bess rose, and
began setting out Ilany's breakfast. Tom stufTecl the
sorted rags into their several sacks. Harry had hit a
deeper truth than he himself quite understood.

Bess came and took him in her arms to the table
for his breakfast. Tom shouldered his sacks, and car-
ried them down-stairs. He would not return till night.
Bess and Harr^'- were left alone for the day. After
breakfast, Hany was laid in his bed till Bess had put
away his dishes. Then she took him up, and rocked
him for half an hour.

" I 've got a plan too, Bess," Harry said, as he rested
a flushed cheek on her shoulder, and half closed his
eyes in the languor of painless weakness.

" Where did you get it? " asked Bess, with assumed
asperity and a very contradictory smile.

" O, don't go to being ' very much displeased,' "
returned Harry, with a comic counterfeit of Tom's
manner.

"What is it?" said Bess.

" I remember a story you read to me once, of a boy
who was sick, and who earned money by carving pretty
things out of wood, — brackets, frames, and such things.
And I was thinking perhaps I could learn to do some
such thing."

Harrj'^ paused, and Bess rocked silently.

*' Are you ' very much displeased ' ? " he asked, with

PLANS. 89

an earnest voice, that belied the effort for pleasantry in
the words.

"No, Harry, of course not. I was only thinking
how we could manage it. You would need a nice knife
and then some wood. But first you would need prac-
tice, and you could have that with Tom's old knife —
he could get it shaipened for you — and any soft pine
we could pick up for you where there is a building
going up. Then j'ou want nice wood when you have
learned."

" And I want pencil and paper to draw the figures I
will carve. I love dearly to draw figures."

" Yes," assented Bess, still thinking, as she rocked
elowl}'.

" Meg 's coming," said Ilarr}-, as, far down the long
stairs, were heard slow, irregular footsteps ascending.

" So she is," Bess answered, listening.

" Poor Meg ! " Harry added, his face softening with
pity.

The door opened. It was poor Meg indeed. She
came in a couple of steps, and halted, hesitating.

" Come in, Meg," said Bess, pleasantly.

Meg shut the door and moved towards a chair. She
was certainly the forlomest creature that could be seen
in much searching. No one knew who she was or
whence she came. She happened. The oldest inhabi-
tant of Amity Court remembered her as a six-year-old

90 THE CniLDRKN OF AMITT COURT.

child, who lived in the court. But she never belonged
particularly to an^' one. "When she was hungrj', no one
refused her a crust. In one way or another, also, she
had always contrived to have a gown to cover her,
though she had little else. In whatsoever house night
found her, there she was allowed to sleep. Every one
pitied her. Meg paid for the favors she received, hy
many a small service gladly rendered. She was even
more grateful for an opportunity to be useful, than for
the daily bread that was pitifully, though kindly, given.

Meg was dimly conscious that she was not quite as
other folks. Wherein la}'^ the difference she could not
divine. That there was a difference she felt, no less
keenly because vaguelj', in a hundred little incidents of
ever}' day ; and the feeling went eating through her
heart, i:i a blind pain, all day long.

" What are you doing to-day, Meg?" asked Bess.

" Nothing," she answered, with listless vacancy.
"Do 3-0U know of anything?" she asked, suddenly,
brightening with the hope.

" No, Meg. I 'm sorry. I don't even know what
to do myself."

" I shall have something for you to do by and by,
Meg," said Harry.

"Widyou? What is't? Something I can?" were
the eager questions, as Meg bent forward on her chair,
— she never sat in a chair, but roosted awkwardly on

PLANS.

91

the edge of it. Her faded eyes brightened as they
gazed hungrily out from her pinched and sallow face.
Her wide mouth widened yet more for a smile.

" I '11 lay 3-0U down on the other bed, Harry," said
Bess, " while I make yours."

" O ! could n't I ? " cried ileg, suddenly, springing
forward, with her long, thin arms outstretched. "I'd
like to hold him."

" Only Tom and I hold him," said Bess, walking on
towards the other bed.

The truth was, '' Amity Meg " was not altogether an
inviting person for such a service. How could she
be? Still, the look of bitter pain that came crushing
down over her hopeless old-3'oung face went to the
heart of both Bess and Harry. Bess stayed her steps,
and looked down into Harry's eyes. Harry said, —

" I 'd rather Meg held me."

The smile of delight on that wan, simple face repaid
the boy for his own sacrifice, as the ready arms cradled
him gently ai a mother's, and carried him back to the
rocicer.

Bess made the bed, while Harry explained to ^leg
his plan of carving, and asked her to bring him
bits of soft pine wood from the refuse of carpenters
at some new buildhig. Harry found his nurse not
only less disagreeable than he expected, but quite
soothing and comforting. "When Bess was ready to

92 THE CHILDREN' OF AMITY COURT.

go out for her slender marketing, Harry chose to
remain with Meg, instead of going again into his bed.
Thej' made a curious picture, — the castaway, " Amity
Meg," and the delicate, crippled Harry Canton. The
vacant, simple, staring look had quite gone out of
Meg's face, — it alwa3's went when she took a child
in her arms. The sharp angularity of her features
seemed softened in the tenderness that flooded them.
The dull e3'cs were love-lighted. The long arms lost
their awkward listlessness, and became elastic and
gentle. Even the harsh brush of unkempt hair, rusty
and uneven, fell like a kind curtain to conceal defects.

Hugged to the hollow chest of this sad representa-
tive of a city's refuse population, lay the fair, sweet
face of Harry Canton. Beaming with gentle pleasure
in the rest afforded his weary little body, happy in know-
ing that Meg was as glad as himself, Harr3''s blue eyes
shone softly, and his sweet lips wore a smile that de-
lighted Meg, and was not more pure and lovely than
Meg's own, though the face was so strangely unlike.

Bess stopped in the doorway to look at them when
she returned. She could not help smiling, too, as she
saw them so happy together.

"Now, I'll go back to my bed," said Harry; and
Meg put him tenderly down.

" You look better than when j'ou came in, Meg," said
Bess.

PLANS. 93

Meg stood up, squared out her sharp elbows akimbo,
and sighed, —

" I was n't feeling just right to-day," she answered,
slowl}', the old vacant look creeping back to her face.
" But seemed as if I got over it while I had him."

" Are you sick? " asked Bess, anxiously.

" I don't know," was the simple reply ; " do you think
I am ? "

" Seems to me you don't look quite as usual." And
Bess scanned her face with perhaps a shade more keen-
ness than sympathy.

Meg went and looked out the window. The sun was
gleaming bjightly on the river. She turned away and
sat down again.

" Sometimes it 's a snapping in my head, and some-
times it's a heaviness in my legs," she said, ''but I
often has pains that nobod}^ asks about, and they go off,
by and by."

" Poor Meg ! I suppose 3'ou do," said Bess, with a
heart full of sudden pity.

" I 'm going to borrow Biddy Ci'owley's Mikey, and
take him out for a walk," IMeg answered, hastily.

" You do love babies, don't you, Meg? "

" Yes, 'm, they never pities me." And with the words,
Meg was gone. They heard her heavy tramp down the
many stairs, and then on the sidewalk outside.

94 THE CHILDREN OF AMiXi CwU.a".

CHAPTER VIII.

AMITY MEG.

TT was high noon in Amity Court. The sun blazed
-■- up and down its dirty length, and gleamed back
from the still surface of the sluggish river. Meg walked
slowly up the scorching pavement, but the heat sick-
ened her. The throbbing pain came back to her thin
temples, and her eyes grew blind in the glare. She sat
down on a doorstep, and longed to crawl away where
no one could see her, and where she might try to forget
herself and her miser}-. She rose and staggered down
a deserted cellarway. It was cool and shady there.
Her head felt better, thougli she shivered with the
damp chill of the place. On tlie dusty boards of the
floor she lay down. She had found the solitude she
craved, and it was grateful to her. Meg was but an
untaught animal, with a few jrlimmerings of something
human and higher. So, like an animal wounded or
suffering, she stole awa}" alone to stolidly endure the
strange misery she could not understand. Meg seemed

" AMITT MEG." 95

to haA'e slept thei-e on the mouldy floor of the old cel-
lar. Thrown down in a careless, awkward abandon,
the rough hair falling over her homely, ^'earning face,
the vacant eyes closed, the simple unthinking head pil-
lowed on her bony arms, Meg found herself, hours after-
wai'ds, slowly rousing from a sort of stupor. She
dragged herself to her feet, and looked up the open
cellarway. The sun had slid far down the afternoon
side of the sky,

" Biddy Crowley will let me take the baby now,"
Meg thought. " It was too hot before."

The pain was almost gone from Meg's head, but it
felt light and dizz}'.

"■ It must be hungry I am," she said aloud, as she
steadied her steps by the brick walls of the house.
" I '11 ask Biddy for a bit of bread just to put strength
into nie."

Bidd}' Crowley was busy, and baby was crying. It
wasver}"^ hot in her stifled room, where she was obliged
to have a fire to iron. She was but too glad that baby
should be taken out, and ever}'^ one knew that " Amity
Meg " was a most trusty nurse. She Avillingly gave her
the bit of bread she asked, and even added a mouthful
of uieat for a relish. Meg took Bab}- Crowle}- on one
arm, and her repast in the other hand, and walked up
the court to the street to " look at the horses." She
had to sit down on a step, for her limbs were weak, and

96 THE CUILDREX OF AMITY COURT.

Baby Crowley was a plump round liitle fellow, of active
disposition, who kicked and crowed heartily as' soon as
he was outside the house. Meg tried to eat the bread
and meat, but she did not feel hungry. The first
mouthful sufficed, and the meat proved anji-hing but a
relish; tlie ver}^ smell of it sickened her. A little dog
came sniffing and begging for it, and Meg fed him. It
amused baby much more than eating it herself would
have done, so Meg was satisfied-

Finally Baby grew tired, or restful perhaps, with t!ie
fresher out-door air, and the pleasant change of scene
after a da^' in his mother's cramped, hot kitchen. His
round face dropped on Meg's arm, his bright ej'es grew
hazy, and the white lids came sliding slowly over them.
Baby Crowley was asleej), and Meg rocked him softly
with a swaying motion of her long arms and Umk body.

Strangers passing stopped to pity. One offered a
few pennies, which Meg took thankfully, and slipped
away in her ragged pocket. But it was pity — always
pity. Only a baby could feel and understand the one
sweet spot in poor Meg's heart, and love her for it.
Only a baby never saw the dirt and squalor, never
noticed her awkward splay hands and feet, her long,
lank limbs, her unkempt hair and vacant face ; but did
see the humble, holy light that came trembling up into
those dull eyes, hopeless, pleading with the one prayer
" Let me love you." Babies always granted it. Babies

"amity meg." 97

alwaj's went freely into Meg's yearning arms. Babies
graciously suffered her love. If they never returned it
adequately, thej' at least appreciated it. Not the most
irate screamer in Amity Court but would silence his
elocution for Meg's persuasion, and condescend to smile
into her asking eyes. Meg was scarcely sixteen, but
she might have been thirty-five, with that disheartened
face and poverty-aged body. She was only half-witted
" Amity Meg\

Bab}' Crowley woke and began to dance and play.
Meg walked up the street with him. But the plump
child was A'cry heavy, — heavier than was ever a baby
before to Meg's willing arms. She did not care to
sit down again. The air seemed close and hot.
Down the court she could see hazy clouds dimming the
sun. There was a cool breath from the river. jNIeg
went through tlie court, and looked over the water. She
crept slowly and faintly along the zigzag path that
went sliding sidewise down the river-bank, and stood
on the brink. It was a muddy, oozy shore ; the water
dragged sluggishly along, black and still.

I'arther down, a small boat was tied to a post driven
in the bank. IMeg determined to get into the boat.
There she could sit and rock Bab}', and play in the
water for liis amusement. It was easy work to draw
the boat ashore, and Meg stepped in. It was of no
consequence that she wet her stockingiess feet and

98 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

spattereil l)or dingy gown. They Tverc cooler to her
burning skin for the water, antl cou'd not look more
shabby. Little cared " Amity Meg " for shabbiness.

The boat rocked pleasantly ; and splashing the wate/
with one hand pleased Baby Crowley to his utter con-
tent. A cool breeze came stealing over the river, and
the gathering clouds obscured the sun. ^eg would
have liked to lie down in the bottom of the sloppy
boat, and sleep again. But she could not leave baby ;
so she rocked and splashed, and amused her own wearj""
heart with watching the bright smile come and go in
the little face, the earnest stare, the growing laugh, all
so sweetly unconscious and so happ}'^ with only her —
onl}' '' poor Amity Meg " — to please him.

The clouds came drifting up thicker and faster over
the sun and the sky. The breeze grew fresher and
stronger. Meg shivered. Raw chills went creeping
down her back, and hot flashes like flame shot up into
her temples. Her head throbbed again, and her eyes
scarce saw the baby that lay rolling on her lap.

" It is too cold," she murmured. " Baby will
sneeze."

She moved to the bow, and pulled at the rope to
draw the boat nearer sliore. The rope was but loosely
tied, and the knot would bear no such strain as this.
It slipped, and the heavy rope fell in the water.

Meg was quick in danger. She laid baby down on

" AMITY MEG." 99

the boat's bare ribs, and jumped out into the water. It
was not deep, but the slim^', 3'ieldiug bottom was poor
footing in which to stand and shove the boat ashore.
'Hie craft proved contrary, and sliowed a decided pref-
erence for going down stream, though the still water
scarcely seemed to have a current. At last the bows were
grounded. Meg lifted Baby in her arms. Her knees
tottered ; she caught the boat with one hand to steady
herself, for she could not stand alone. Her dizzied
head swam with the swimming water. She toolv one
step, holding the boat-side fast. It was not four feet
to the river's edge, but she could not gain it. The boat
veered round ; its bows had drifted and were free again.
]\Ieg gathered all her strength, bracing her feet in the
mudily river-bed, and threw the bub}' high upon the
sljore. lie cried, of course, but more witli fright than
hurt, for the wet bank was a harmless landing-place,
"With the effort, Meg toppled over in the stream. Cov-
ered with mud she scrambl^^l up, and feebl}' clutched
the boat's stern as it drifted past. She had untied it,
she must drag it back and tie it, was her dim idea of
duty, as she held it by the edge. Dut first she brushed
aside the wet and draggled hair to sec where baby was.
Dirt}', doubtless, but quite safe, lay Baby Crowley,
well up the bank. He was staring now, with big,
round eyes at Meg staggerinj; to hold the tugging boat
that would drift down the river. The love-light flickered

100 THE CHILDREN OF AillTY COURT.

np in Meg's eyes once more. Duby saw it, and smiled
back. Meg tried to speak, to call to him ; but the voice
would not come. She only waved her hand, nodded
her head, and smiled — " Amity Meg's " own simple but
■ loving smile — to answer Baby Crowley's. Then she
turned to the struggling boat to drag it shoreward.
But the treacherous mud gave way beneath her. She
stumbled. The headstrong boat wrested itself from
her hands, and went dancing mockingly awa^-. Meg
looked after it Avith pained wonder as it went. Then
she tui'ned to baby. Again the mute smile passed
between these two dumb creatures, — their smile the
one sure, though faint, token of their humanity.
Then the dizz^'ing water eddied through her blinded
eyes ; the uncertain footing grew more doubtful ;
the long arms stretched once more towards baby, as
the shaking knees bent, and " Amity Meg " sank in
the shallow slimy river, and rose no more.

An hour later, distracted Biddy Crowle}' found her
baby crawling in the mud by the river-side. Three
days after, Amity Meg's mud-smeared face was recog-
nized in the dead-house. Its vacant look quite gone,
it wore only the same child-like smile that gleamed
across it when she turned it last on Ba])y Crowley
by the river, and stretched her arms to take him.

WHAT HAPPENED TO JEIIMT. 101

CHAPTER IX.

WHAT HAPPENED TO JEMMT.

NOTWITHSTANDING the misfortunes of Jem-
m3''s first day, he was firm iii his Jctermiuation
to go again with Nora, when next she went to sell
papers. Nora had so vividly depicted to hi:n tlie ter-
rible results of being picked up by the po'.ico, or led
away b}' "monkey-men," as Jemm}'" calL'd the organ-
grinders, that he was greatly impressed, and gave tokens
of a wliolesome fear of separation from lier, an 1 the
strong desire to keep always within range of her pro-
tection. The novel sights of city streets were losing
their crazing influence upon himj and he found it pos-
sible, amid their excitement, to exercise some thought
of what became of himself. The conviction of the
necessity for this care and consideration, — which were
faculties he had never before had occasion to use, —
since Nora could not exercise tliem for him, was the
successful incentive to this great exertion, and produced
a very gratifying change in his behavior. He became

102 THE CHILDREN OF AMHY COURT. .

SO faitliful a follower of Nora's movements, that she
gradiially lost the worrjiug anxiety with which she had
been always tortured when he was with her ; and at the
end of a week she could even enjoy his company as
heartily as she used in quiet old Campfields, when they
played together by the sleepy village street. Mean-
while tlioughtful little Nora was already learning the
way about the city. She had never yet gone alone
from Amity Court to the newspaper offices, but she ofte.i
went out to meet Ned as he returned with his load of
papers. It saved her a long walk, if he got the papers
and brought tiiem up the city for her. In the upper
streets of New York Nora could go about without fear
of being lost ; for Tom had instructed her, if perplexed,
to ask a policeman for Amity Court. Though in great
awe of policemen, Nora had once had resort to this
plan, and found herself so near home, that had she used
her own eyes wisely, and been familiar with the prin-
cipal buildings near, she could not have failed to know
where it was herself.

There was one favorite field of business with Nora.
It consisted of two or three long quiet streets, with
stately house? on either side, freshly-washed sidewalks,
and clean, well-swept, and sprinkled middles, — an
occasional tree shading a patch of the stones or a few
windows of a neighboring house. Here, between eight
and nine in the morning, was a constant stream of fine-

"WHAT HAPPENED TO JEMMT. 103

looking, well-dressed men passing out to the avenue on
their way down town. Almost every one of tliera would
Iju}' a paper, if as!ced. It was just what they wanted to
read in the coach or car. Nora lilced the quiet of these
streets. She had never learned to call her papers, like
the newsboys, and this peculiarit}' special!}' fitted her
for such localities. Residents of these streets liked to
have their papers brought by a quiet-mannered, unob-
trusive little gi 1. Nora kept near th3 avenue end of
the street ; and as, one b}^ one, she saw them coming,
on one side or the other, she hastened up with her
papers Sometimes they came so fast she could not
meet them all and would send Jemmy trotting across
with a paper in his hand to a regular customer while
she was busy on the o'her sidewalk. Jemmy liked that,
and always came back proud as a king, with the pen-
nies clutched fa'^t in his little fist Sometimes nurses
came out with the little children of these comfortable-
seeming gentlemen, and walked slowly up and down
the sunny sidewalks, leading by the hand or pushing in
baby-carriages the little ones. Then Jemmy looked
with longing eyes. lie did so want to play with these
little bo3-s and girls not so big as he ! But the. nurses
always acted as non-conductors an 1 repelled his sh;^
advances towards a nearer view of the often too white
little faces in their diinty laces, snowy robes, and taste-
ful costumes. If the pampered babies looked long-

104 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

ingl\' towards the snnburiiGd plumpness of Jemmy
Craig, their carriages were straightway faced about upon
a totally different view, and they saw only pavements,
flagging, stone walls, and cast-iron fences. Jemmy
made no progress towards acquaintance with any of
them.

It was a sultry afternoon. Ned had just brought up
the evening edition. Nora stood on tlie curbstone of
the great avenue selling her papers busily Jemmy
wandered up and down, keeping her always in sight,
■watching the passing crowds, in which spectacle, how-
ever, he no longer found the fascination it had at first
presented. An incessant panorama inevitably palls on
the taste, — even the panorauia of city life, on the eager-
ness of a country child. Jemmy had found a rather
dirty piece of wi'apping-paper blowing about, and was
tr^'ing to fold it up to make a soldier's cap, as Ned had
taught him. Suddenly a chirping little voice said,
close by his side, —

" I know you."

Jemmy looked up in surprise. At his elbow stood
one of the rich children from the quiet street where
Nora sold papers in the morning. She was much
sinallcr than Jemmy, but loolced older. Slie had curl-
ing black hair that was now sadly degene: ated from its
usual smooth neatness. Her sharp gray-blue eyes had
a wise old look. And her dainty white dress, with blue

WHAT HAPPKNED TO JEMMY. 105

ribbons and wonderful blue boots, such as Jemmy had
never seen before, were simply miraculous, and stamped
her as undoubtedly of curious and fairy origin. But
Jemmj- only answered coolly, —

'• Yes, I know you."

"What are you making?" asked Miss Blue-boots,
with condescending interest.

" Soldier-cap," was the preoccupied reply.

" Wish I had some p;iper to make one, too."

"Come and see my cubby-house," suddenly Jemmy
said, throwing down the dirty paper-cap and springing
to his feet.

The little blue boots followed him to the next comer,
where he crept under a half dozen steps, and peeped
out at her from enshrouding darkness with a face beam-
ing with delight.

" Come in here ! Plenty of room," said he, hospit-
ably', crowding himself up closely against the farther
side.

Little Blue-boots looked at her white dress, and s*ood
irresolute. Then she lifted her dress gingerly, and
saying, —

" It won't show if I do dirty my undcr-skirt," she
stepped in and sat down by Jomm}-.

Jemm3''s face shone all over for a moment, but his
tongue was tied with pleasure. Tlien he suddenly
remembered that he could not see Nora, nor could she

lOG TnE CHILDREX OF AMITY COURT.

see him. He stood up, bent double under the stairs,
and began stepping over the blue boots to get out.

" Where are you going?" she asked, angrily, at this
seeming faithlessness of sudden desertion.

" I must tell Nora ; wait, and I'll come right back."

" Jf 30U don't, 3'ou won't find me hare," said Blue-
boots, dccidedl}'. "I can't sta}'- but a few minutes,
anyway."

Jeram}' found Nora, and told her he was going to
play under (he s'.eps, and she must remember and not
go awav and leave him. Nora promised, with a smile ;
it was so pleasant for her that he thought to come and
tell her, she wanted to kiss him for it, but refrained lest
he should prove too much occupied otherwise, and ob-
ject. Jemmy did not stop to mention little Miss Blue-
boots under the steps , but harried back to find her calmly
digging a hole in the dirt with a chip, and seemingly
indifferent as to whether he ever appeared again or not.

"Where's 3'our mother?" asked Jemmy.

" Gone out in the carriage with Grandma and
Auntie."

" Why doesn't she ever let me s;xjak to 3'OU ia the
morning ? "

"She? You never saw my mamma That's onl}'
the nurse ! "

" O ! " replied Jemmy, with a very indistinct idea
of what a nurse was. " Is she cross?"

WHAT HAPPENED TO JEMMY. 107

" Eather. Everybody is, you know, except Auntie,
I never heard lier cross, but I suppose she is some-
times."

" Nora is n't ever cross, nor Bess ; sometimes Tom
is, and Ned. Harry never is," was Jemmy's audible
inventor}' of his acquaintance, in rep'j'.

"Who are they? Have you got so many brothers
and sisters ? "

"No — Yes — some of them," answered Jemmy,
rather puzzled to sort them out.

" You must liave nice times p'aying ! Does j'our
mamma let you all go in the street to play alone?"

" Our mamma — Nora's and mj' mamma got runded
all over in the street ; and the rest have n't got any —
never had any."

Little Blue-boots laughed rather doubtfully ; but on
second thought, Jemmy's earnestness seemed convin-
cing, for she replied, —

" I shou'd tliink it would be grand fun. Where do
you live ? "

" Amity Court," said Jemmy, with parrot-like prompt-
ness, 'i hat answer had been carefully impressed on his
mind.

" I don't know where that is "

" Nor I cither," was the grave coincidence.

'1 he little girl laughed again She had not a very
pleasant laugh, but Jemm}' did not much mind that, it

103 THE Cnil.DREN OF AMITY COURT.

was so nice to see those blue l^oots, "with their toes
standing straight up before his eyes ! He reached out
one chubb}'' brown hand to touch them.

" Don't ! You '11 spot them. I have to be so careful ;
everj' drop of water spots 'era," explained the owner, in
half-apology for her ill-nature.

And Jemmy stared at the little fair^' lad^' in hopeless
wonder,

" Let 's play something," she said, suddenly.

" Yes, let's," returned Jemmy, amiably.

" I 'm a rich lady and live here ; and you are my ser-
vant. You must clean up here for me, it is very dirty.
Get some more paper, and carpet the ground for me to
sit down."

Jemmy accepted his condition of servitude with ex-
treme docility, and began at once to hoe out the comers
with a chip. Little Blue-boots edged round out of the
way of his house-cleaning with gracious condescension,
and gave orders with great freetlom ; but not always with
gracious consideration or sweetness. It was delightful
to Jomray to have some one of his own age to play with,
and especially some one in a white dress and blue boots,
and it did n't so much matter if she was rather cross
and exacting.

"When he had hoed out all the coruers wiih the chip,
he proceeded to scrape the refuse int > the street.

" Here 's some paper." And he drew out a small and
very dirty piece from his gathered rubbish.

WHAT HAPPENED TO JEMMT. 109

" 'T is n't big enough," decided Blue-boots. Indeed,
it was but a few inches and very ding}'.

But Jemmy discovered a faint semblance of a picture
on it, and so tucked it in his little pocket for investi-
gation at some futSre moment of greater leisure.

''What are j'ou going to do with it?" asked Blue-
boots.

" Look at it, by and by. There 's a picture. I can
rub the dirt off." And Jemmy diligently scooped up
the rubbish in both hands, and went and threw it in
the gutter.

" Your hands are dirtier than ever," said Blue-boots,
with a glance of disgust, as he returned.

'• I 'm going to wash \ra," said Jcram}- ; and he dis-
appeared.

There was a pump not out of sight of Tsora, in a
tiny park, and thither Jemmy ran and scrubbed his fat,
b: own hands with great good-will and little science, for
they were not much cleaner after all.

" Nora. I want a paper," he said, in his most aggressive
tone, because he knew he was asking a great thing, and
expected objection

'• A pa[)er ! What for ? " asked Nora, kindlj'. Jemmy
was behaving so well, she wished she could give him
cue.

" Just to spread, you know," spreading out his little
fists.

110 TnE CHILDREN' OF AMITY COURT.

Nora laughed. " Here 's an old one the others came
wrapped in ; that will do, won't it?'*

" Yes," murmured Jemm}', in a flutter of suppressed
delight.

Begging Miss Blue-boots to step out for a moment,
he proceeded to spread the paper nicel3^ It was just
large enough to cover the ground under the steps, and
it made such a clean, nice little house.

" Now 3'ou can come in," he cried, creeping to the
farther side.

But while Jemray was on his hands and knees, with
his head in the hole and his little heels onl}'' visible out-
side, Officer Sta'.it, pacing slowly by, was attracted by
the singular and very inappropriate apparition of little
Blue-boots, bonnctlcss and alone, standing on the
jostled sidewalk of the great avenue. When Jemmy
turned to call her, he saw, through the opening that
formed their door, a cringe of dread and terror pass
over little Blue-boots' fiice and form, and he saw, too, a
great hand holding her shoulder.

" Where did 3-ou come from, little girl?" asked the
officer, kindly.

The little runaway wriggled out of his grasp, and
turned to loo!c sharply into his face before answering.
But she saw there so much grave authority that she
only said, sulkily, —

" Home."

WHAT HAPPENED TO JEMMT. Ill

" "Why did n't you put on 3"our hat, to keep the sun
ofr?"

" Did n't want to. 'T was shady in front of the house,
and I 'in going right back there in a minute."

" Come, now, and I '11 go with j-ou. Some one may
be frightened and think you ai-e lost."

" I ain't ready to go now." And Blue-boots stepped
coolly into JemmA-'s cubby-house, and sat down on the
rustling newspapers.

Officer Staut looked puzzled. He had seen the child
on the avenue an hour ago, when a man was asking
the way of him. He meant to have taken care of her
then, but when he turned to find her she had disap-
peared.

" Come," said he, more decidedl}- ; " j'ou have been
here a long while, and it is time you went home. "Will
30U come with me, or shall I pick you up and carry you ?"

"You'd better go," advised Jemmy. "lie almost
carried me off, once."

Thus instructed, little Blue-boots crept out and Jem^
my crawled after.

♦' Hulloa ! " laughed Officer Staut. " So you are here
too."

Jemmy shook in his slioes, but stood very straight
and brave — and silent.

" Now where do you live ? " asked the officer, holding
the little girl's arm fii'mly in his strong grasp.

112 TUE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

"Down there," pointing. ''I'd rather go alone,"
she said, struggling to be free.

" You might not find it alone. What 's the street
and number?"

" /don't know,*' she answered, lifting a little face of
disgusted indignation at the expectation of her being
acquainted with such plebeian information.

'• O, you don't? Then unless you know the way to
go there, I shall have to take you to the police-station.
What 's your name ? " was his sudden question, as a last
resort.

But Blue-boots had twisted the end of her sash round
into her mouth, and was sulkily silent.

Jemmy was horror-struck at the mention of the po-
lice-station, and rushed with a sudden scream towards
Nora.

" Don't let him ! Don't let him ! O, Nora, don't ! "

" What is it. Jemmy?" anxiously inquired Nora,
reaching an ai-m to receive him, while she handed a pur-
chased paper to a passer with the other hand.

"He's going to — the great man — carry her off.
Don't let him ! " And he pointed amid a tempest of
sobs to where little Blue-boots still struggled fitfully and
angrily with the policeman.

Officer Staut stood regarding Nora. He had often
noticed her, as he paced his beat. He had always a
kindly turn towards children. He knew that Jemmy

WHAT HAPPENED TO JEMMY. 113

came and went willi her, no more barricading tlie side-
walk with a tether. He hail seen her motherly care of
him, and earnest attention to her rather unusnal busi-
ness, and placed her high in his approbation as an un-
commonly reliable child He now advanced towards
her, leading the little girl. Jemmy retreated behind
Nora, clinging to her dress, and crying " Don't,
don't ! " in agonized tones,

"Do 3'ou know anything about this little girl?"
asked the officer of Nora.

'• No, sir," answered Nora, trembling a little herself,
she did not know wh}'.

'• I shall have to take her to the station if I can't find
out where she lives. Can't you tell me the street and
number?" he added, more persuasively, to the child.

"■ I know," cried Jemmy, explosively, from under
Nora's elbow.

OflUcer Staut looked doubtful.

" Where is it?" asked Nora.

" Down, where 3'ou went this morning."

" Where the penny was lost?"

" Yes," he answered, joyfully, with brightened face.

" That was C Street," said Nora.

" Suppose 3'ou let me take this little man along with
me," said Officer Staut. " I '11 bring him back again,
all safe, when we have found the house."

But Jemmy objected. It was only after long coax-

114 THE CIIII.PRKV OF AMITY COURT.

iiig fi om Nora, and repeated protestation fi om OfHcer
Staut that nothing should harm him, and he should he
brought safely back to Nora, that he was at last per-
suaded to go

Little Biue-boots, who had never ventured out with-
out an attendant, or been taught any self-reliance, had
no idea of locality, and scarcely knew the familiar
street from an}' other when they entered it. But
Jemm3% accustomed, though so lately, to look about him
with observant ej'es, recognized the place at once.

He could have found the very crack in the bricks
where the truant penny was lost, and easily pointed
out the house where he had seen little Blue-boots with
the nurse and a wee baby come down the steps for a
walk that very morning. He knew the place by the
flowering- bush in the narrow grass plat, and the little
dogs' heads grinning on the posts of the cast-iron
railings.

" Waters," said Officer Staut, as they stood on the
steps after he had rung the bell.

"That's my pa's name," snapped little Blue-boots.
It was the first word she had spoken.

" Why did n't you tell me so before? "

But the door was opened and the runaway darted in,
and vanished in the dusk of the richlj'-furnished hall.

Her disappearance made it a little awkward for
Officer Staut about explaining his errand to the liveried

WHAT HAPPENED TO .TKMMY. 115

footman, who stood expectant with well-bred surprise
tempered by respect for his badge.

Before his story was stated, even in his succinct
manner, a mellifluous voice called over the dim stair-
way, —

'^ Tell the man to come in, Thompson. We must
see him."

The footman immediately extended a pressing invita-
tion to enter, and Officer Staut stepped into the hall and
sat down, with little Jemmy keeping remarkably fast
hold of one of his big fingers and staring very hard out
of his round eyes. Such soft carpets, such wide high
stairs, such smootli white tables. Jemmy never saw
before ! There was a gorgeoiisness — increased, in the
vague dusk of the house, by his own alert imagination —
that exceeded the wildest tales Nora had ever read or
told to him of fairy-land or heaven. It made him hold
his breath and Officer Staut's finger with corresponding
intensity' ; and his wondering admiration of little Blue-
])oots, who lived among such surroundings, grew big to
puinfuhiess. But when three magnificent ladies, in
rustling sweeping dresses, with unnaturally beautiful
faces, soft voices, and gracious manner, came floating
down lliu broad stairs, one of them leading little Blue-
boots and looking A'ery much displeased at her. Jemmy's
eyes could be no bigger or rounder; his stout I'ttle
heart forgot all about beating, and his lungs did no\
feel the want of air lur some minutes.

116 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

CHAPTER X.

JEMMY S LUCK.

" ri lELL US how you found our darling little Bella,"

-L said tlie foremost and oldest of the three ladies,
with a smile so sweet that Jemmy thought she must
be an angel, not having learned that too much sweet-
ness is as bad as too little. " We had onlj^ just returned
from driving, and were quite distracted at finding she
had run away."

Officer Staut briefly stated that he had found her
playing on the avenue with this little boy, whereat
Jemmy put a finger in his mouth, and looked bashful
for the first time in his life.

•' Bella, how could you?" exclaimed Bella's mother,
giving her a little shake by the arm, an.l looking, if
possible, more displeased than before.

Onicer Staut proceeded .to state that it was by
Jemm3^'s aid that he had been able to bring her home,
as only he could tell where she lived.

"He's a nice little boy," said softly the third lady.

jemmy's luck. 117

who was dressed all in black, and had a very lovely
face, witli timid, gentle eyes. And Bella's auntie came
around to Jemmy's side and asked his name.

" Jemm^' Craig," he said, with bated breath.

" Some low creature ! " said Mrs. "Waters, with a toss
of her head, — a head heavy with the most elaborate of
coiffures, composed of innumerable rolls, braids, puffs,
and curls of richlj'-tinted brown hair.

" lie was a good boy to show the way home for
Bella," said Mrs. Meredith, with gracious condescen-
sion. ''You'd better give him something, Sophy.
, One does n't like to be in debt to such people."

Jemmy's eyes sparkled for a moment. He thought
nothing less delightful than such candy as he had seen
in show-windows could be the gift of these grand
ladies in tliis elegant house.

Mrs. Waters was busy eliciting further particulars
from Officer Staut and Bella.

The pretty auntie had taken a chair, and brought
Jemmy to her side.

" Where do you live? " was her first question.

" Amity Court," was the ready answer.

"I'm sure I don't know Avhere ihat is," she said.
'■' Do your father and mother live there?"

" No."

" Whom do you live with ? "

" Tom Canton, and Bess and Ned and Harry. Nora
lives there too."

118 THE CHILDREN OK AMITY COURT.

" Arc these j'our l)rothers and sisters? "

" Only Nora."

'•And do they — these Cantons — live with theii
father and mother ? "

'• No ; they did n't have any."

" And I suppose you haA'e n't an}', either?"

" Not just now. The}' packed up m}^ father in a
great long box. and mother got rnnded hall over in the
street. Don't know lolien they '11 come back."

" But who takes care of all these children? "

" Nobody."

" But where do you get food and clothes? "

" O, we earn that, selling papers, — Nora does, and
I help."

Mrs. Donaldson looked tenderly at the brave, sturdy
little fellow who had answered all her questions so
readily, smoothed his rough brown hair wi h one of her
jewelled white hands, and sighed softl}'. She was
wishing that she had not been left quite childless in
her widowhood, and thinking, while so many children
were motherless, why need she be always childless?
Could she not take some of these little ones who needed
her as much as she felt she needed them ; and thus try,
in her small range, to right some of the world's cruel
wrong? But she could not say it. There were ham-
pering circumstances that hemmed in the rich widow,
free and untrammelled as she seemed, crushed her

jemmy's luck. 119

truer, better longings, and forced her into a life she
would not herself have chosen. So she only stroked
Jemmy Craig's rough hair, and sigbed.

"Are you the auntie?" ventured Jemmy.

" Yes," replied Mrs. Donaldson, with a smile-
'•Why?"

'' She told me you were n't ever cross, like the rest."

A funny surprise passed over Mrs. Donaldson's
handsome face, and she could scarcely avoid a little
laugh.

" And you have alwaj'S plenty to eat, — these boys
and girls you tell me of? " she resumed, with a judi-
cious change of subject.

" Ye-es," replied Jemmy, absently. He was staring
at a deer's head of remarkabl}^ life-like appearance
on the wall. Its bright eyes, open mouth, and lolling
tongue fascinated him.

"And are they all as nice children as you?" she
pursued.

"Ye-es — all but Harry. He don't ever get out
of bed. Don 't know what ails him."

" Does n't he? Is he a nice, pleasant, pretty boj'? "

"Ye-es, he's nice, like you, — clean and i^retty."

Mrs. Donaldson had to laugh out at this sally, and
Mrs. Meredith turned quickly at the unusual sound.

" What is it? " she asked, eagerly.

" He says I am clean and pretty," repeated she,

120 ■ THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

laughing again. It was a very pleasant, low, rippling
laugh, and Jemmy liked it ; but a dim idea of absurdity
in the statement, as she gave it, made him exclaim, —

" No ! I said Harry was."

" Come ! " said Officer Staut, " your sister will think
I am not going to bring you back." And ofTering on^
of his big fingers again, he bowed respectfully, and
before Jemmy had time for one thorough farewell look,
he was in the street. The great door of the wonderful
house was closed, and all its beauty and marvels were
vanished forever from his eager eyes. It was small
consolation to hold in his hand a bit of green paper
that Ofiieer Staut said was a " quarter," and which
Jemmy dimly remembered, in the last dazed moment,
little Blue-boots' mamma had given him, with the same
displeased look with which she regarded Bella.

It was all a fairy-like dream to Jemmy, from the mo-
ment of his entering to his leaving the grand home of
little Bella. The strange sights, the rich furnishings,
the beautiful ladies, all were painted indelibly in the
pages of his young memory. Wondering dumbly,
he trotted along, holding Officer Staut's finger, till he
reached the avenue, and found Nora again.

It was shady on the avenue, when Jemm}'' returned
to Nora. He sat down on the curbstone, close b}'' a
lamp-post, and meditated for a long time on the strange
events of the afternoon. There were some straws

jemmy's lucs. 121

from a passing wagon of goods blown against the curb.
Jemmy began to play with them. Nora brought him
half the doughnut she was eating ; the rind of a banana
formed quite an accession to his limited stock of toys.
He was growing skilful in eliciting much amusement
from small means. It occurred to his ingenious mind
to make a house like Delia's. The straws were placed
as boundary lines, and a strip of banana rind formed
the stairs ; a chip represented the white-topped, shin-
ing table ; a sprig of weed stuck into a crack was the
deer's head. Then bits of the banana rind would do
for the chairs and sofa that stood in the spacious hall.
It was quite elaborately laid out, and Jemmy was lost
in study over the plan, when an unthinking foot was
coming down in the midst of it. Jemmy almost for-
got that a man was probably intimatel}^ connected with
that foot. lie saw only the imminent destruction of his
elaborate ground-plan of Bella's grand hall. lie caught
the foot, just above the ancle, in both arms, and guided
it outside his limited territory. Of course he almost
tripped up a certain well-dressed gentleman by this
manoeuvre, but he never raised his head. Too intent
upon his work to notice anj-thing not therewith con-
nected, when once the threatening foot was removed,
he went quietly on arranging and contemplating the
plan.

Mr. Salsb}' regained his equilibrium as well as he

122 THE CUILDUICN OF AMITY COURT.

could, and stood regarding the ruddy, busy, little
fellow with an amused smile in his pleasant eyes and
hiding in his brown beard.

" What is that ? " he asked, at length.

Jemmy, never dreaming that any one could be accost-
ing him, pursued his occupation without vouchsafing
any reply. The grave, earnest air and abstracted at-
tention only amused Mr. Salsby still more, and, stand-
ing by the lamp-post, he watched the child's play for
some minutes.

Suddenly Jemmy observed the two feet emulating
the black post itself in stationary repose, and glanced
hastily along up to the face. He could not remember
where he had seen it before, though he had a dim idea
that it was familial*.

" What arc 3'ou making ? " asked the gentleman
again.

" A house," said Jemmy, looking down at it.

Mr. Salsby's imagination was hardlj' equal to seeing
the resemblance. He regarded Jemmy as the chief
curiosity. But as he still remained, instead of going
away, as the child natural I3'' expected of him, Jemmy
proceeded to an explanation, —

'''Ere's the front door That's the stairs, and
that 's the sofa. 'Ere 's the white table, with a smooth,
shining top ; and these are chairs. That *s the w.^y
it is at Bella's."

jemmy's luck. 123

" At Bella's ? " repeated Mr. Salsby.

" Her name 's Bella "Waters, and she lives in a great
'andsome 'ouse. I 've been there."

*' So you go to see Bella Waters ? " said the gen-
tleman, a funny twinkle coming in his eyes, as he
thought of all Mrs. Waters' natural objection to such
a playmate for her Bella.

" Xo ; I did n't go to see her," said Jemmy, substi-
tuting short straws for the banana rind, as more
accurately representing the staircase.

'' What is your name, my little man?"

Jemni}' looked up. lie liked to be called a " little
man," because he had observed that it was invariably
a token of approbation. So he gave his name with
great dignity, and added, " She came to see me."

"Paper, sir?" And Mr. Salsby turned to see
Nora Craig's fair little face raised to him with offered
news. Instantly he remembered her, and Jemmy's
former danger of capture by the policeman. lie
produced the requisite pennies, and took a paper.

" And this is your sister?" he asked.

As Jemmy did not answer, Nora said, " Yes, sir."

"How do you get along selling papers? Do you
like it as well as ever? '

" It does very avcU. I get lots of monej^ by it.
But I have kept the piece you gave me. Ned told
inQ to carry it for luck."

124 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COUKT.

"Ah!"

" But she lets me wear it ! " cried Jemmy, proudly,
pulling at a string around his neck, and bringing up
the shining bit of silver, strung upon it by a hole
punched therein.

" Then I 'm afraid the luck will be yours," said the
gentleman.

" Paper, sir? " said Nora, as a man stopped near her.
And Mr. Salsby turned as if to go away ; but he came
back again.

" Who is Ned? " he asked of Jemmy.

Jemmy stared a moment, and then answered, " News-
boy?"

" Hut Ned who ? "

"0, Ned Canton"

" And where do you live? "

Jemmy thought everybody was asking where he lived
to-day. But he gave the answer dutifully.

Nora had returned meanwhile, and she added, —

" "We live with Tom Canton and Bess. We all live
together, because there is n't any one else to live with.
But Jemm}'^ and I are onl}'' staying there till our mother
comes back. We 've lost her somewhere, but she '11
come for us by and by."

" So j'ou live in Amity Court? And do you all sell
papers and earn a living by it ? "

" O, no ; only Ned and I do that. Tom is doing

jemmy's luck. 125

something else in an office, I believe, — I don't know
just what, — Jemm}^ and Harry can't do anything, and
Bess sa3-s she is going to sell papers if she can't find
anything else to do."

" Six of yo:i? " exclaimed Mr. Salsby, in surprise.

"Tom said we might stay with them if we could earn
enough," explaimed Nora, not quite knowing what she
was expected to say,

" And do you have a nice house to live in ? "

" It's a very large room and looks out on the river.
It is up top of the house, you sec."

" I must go down and see how it is," said Mr.
Salsb}'', more to himself than to. Nora, as he walked
away.

Tlie interruption had spoiled Jemmy's interest in his
play. He swept the gathered straws out of their mystic
arrangement into the street again. He stared vacantly
about him, and was glad Avhen Ned came to say they
could go home.

But at home his mood changed. He was eager to tell
to Bess and Ilarr}'' all the wonderful events of this most
rem'arkable da}-, and he dwelt long on the wonderful
dress and house of little Bella Waters, the beautiful
ladies, and the strange coincidence that Bella had said
everybody was cross except the prettj^ auntie who had
talked with him. To Harry the recital was as good as
a story-book. lie listened v.ith deepest interest, and

126 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

asked many questions which it delighted Jemmy to
answer. Nora gave a full account of the man who had
twice manifested so kindly an interest in thera, and
startled Bess by the announcement that he was coming
to see them, for he had said so.

" lie could n't mean it," Bess said, as if reassuring
herself from her dread of a strange vi.,itor.

" Perhaps he '11 help us/' said Harry, hopefully.
"J '11 tell him how I want to carve pretty things and
earn something, and he may want to buy some if he is
rich."

Meanwhile Jemmy sat still and demure, in the last
lingering light of the late sunset that shone faintly in
at the window .overlooking the river. He was gravely
examining the bit of paper with a picture on it that he
had found under the steps. The dirt was easily brushed
off; Jemmy did it with his jacket-sleeve, which was very
convenient. It had once been of some bright hue, that
was not yet quite all faded out A colored picture was a
treasure Jemmy had not dreamed of possessing. There
was a man's head, and on the other side a very much
larger picture ; so complicated was this side that by
the waning light Jemmy could not maKe it out at all.
There were a great manj' curious letters and little pic-
tures crowded upon this wonderful bit of paper. It wag
quite the most remarkable thing Jemmy had evel
seen.

jemmy's luck, 127

" Come, Jemmy, let 's go to bed," said Nora. " I'm
eo tired."

"Wish I could see what's on here," said Jemmy,
with sleepy moderation,

" Come," said Nora, beginning to unbutton his little
jacket.

" I '11 take it to bed, and then I '11 see it in the morn-
ing," Jemmy said.

" Yes." And Nora lifted him down from the chair on
which he had been standing.

As she did so her eye fell ou the valued paper.

" Why, Jemmy, where did you get that? "

" Under the steps where I played house with the little
girl," answered Jemm}^, wiih a yawn.

" Let me see it. I believe it's money. Bess, come
and see."

Bess came, and opened wide her bright ej'cs as she
looked. And then the tears came into them, as she
exclaimed joyfully, —

" 0, Nora I it 's a ten dollar bill 1 "

128 TUE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

CHAPTER XI.

THE LADIES.

MRS. DONALDSON was very silent and thought-
ful next clay. In vain her mother discoursed
variedly upon such topics as were her wont, — the
weather, what to wear, and the coining journey.

Mrs. Donaldson answered absently or not at all, till
Mrs. Meredith caught the infection, and was silent
also.

Thus the forenoon wore along, till Mrs. Donaldson
said abruptly, —

" Where is the need of my going to the water with
you and Sophy ? "

" "Wh}', where 'd be the pleasure, if you didn't?"
exclaimed her astonished mother.

" I think I could make myself quite as happy to
stay at home with father."

" But it would spoil our trip — Sophy's and mine.
Don't go to making a nun of j'ourself, Ria. You are a
young woman yet, not twenty-five, and as handsome as

THE LADIES. 129

ever you were ; and I am not going to let you mew your-
self up, and settle down to caps and knitling-work."

" You know tatting is the only knitting I ever
learned," returned the younger lady, with a faint smile,
" and I shall not need caps for some time, my hair is
so good. But, nia, I dread going into society again.
Seems as if it would be so much better if I should keep
another year of mourning."

" Nonsense ! wh}' j-ou are growing older every year,
child! Do 3'ou remember that? You'll never be any
younger or more beautiful than you are now. ' Make
your hay Avhile the sun shines,' my dear."

Mrs. Donaldson rose and walked away to the win-
dow, with a pained look on her fair, gentle face. She
had been indulging in day-dreams this morning. She
had been thinking of the little boy she saw yesterdaj%
who had no parents, and needed just such care as she
longed to give. INIore and more had grown in her heart
the wish to take some orphan child, and give it the care
that would, she knew, prove, like mercy, —

" Twice blessed ;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

If only her mother and sister would go without her
on their proposed trip to the watering-places this sum-
mer, how easily could she, while left at home with her
kind father, talk over with him her feelings and wishes ;
and, with his approl)ation and support, which she felt

130 T.ia c;iild:is\" of amity codut.

could be readilj' gained, might she not find a motherless
child for her childless heart that had been aching with
overburdening mother-love ever since her own dead
baby was laid in her arms two j'ears ago?

But to be freed from this journej', — that was the
difficult part of the plan. Her mother would not give
her up. Mrs. Meredith's fascinations of airy graces
and insinuating sweetness were beginning to set uneasily
over her too customary frown and pettishness. Mrs.
Waters had not yet found her sharp wa\s softened or
toned b}' the roughness of her married life to pleasing
address. Alone the two ladies were scared}- attractive,
would elicit little attention ; but as the escort of the rich
widow from Scotland, who, besides being mistress of
vaguely untold wealth, was possessed of unusual per-
sonal attractions in beauty and sweetness, their position
would be quite different Mrs. Meredith was shrewd
enough to see all this, and would not for a moment hear
of losing her widowed daughter's companionship.

So Mrs. Donaldson sat down again, and relapsed into
silence. It was almost as hard now, after the few
yQCLVs in her husband's ancestral home, where life-long
servants took from her every care and duty, as it had
been in her girlhood, for her to oppose her own
will to that of any one else, or to instigate any sort of
proceedings for the furtherance of her own views un-
approved and unencouraged by the approbation of her

THE LADIES. 131

parents. She was sadly unequal to laying out and con
siimmating well-wrought plans for a given purpose.
Enterprise was farthest from Mrs. Donaldson's cata-
logue of virtues. Stnl she sat, and dreamed of the
ruddy, earnest, little man, and longed to see again his
bright eyes, and hear his cool, decided answers.

One thing Mrs. Donaldson had learned since her
girlhood, — to sometimes take prompt actions with her
impulses. Tliey seldom led her into error, and often
opened a wa}- she could not before devise to her desired
end. Now she started up suddenly and pulled the bell,
saying, —

" I am going to ride."

" Where are you going ? " asked Mrs. ^Meredith.

" Wherever my fancy leads me," she answered, mer-
rily, as she tripp:Kl away to prepare herself.

When she returned to the little morning parlor in
wliicli the}' had been sitting, Mrs. Meredith had also
put on a riding costume, and was chatting in very
lively manner with Mrs. Waters, who had just come.

" I thought I should like a drive too, Ria, dear,"
said Mrs. ^Meredith ; " and Sopli}' says she will go, so
there will be a pleasant party of us "

"Yes, that's very kind of you," replied Mrs. Don-
aldson, absently, after she had welcomed her sister.
As she had planned the ride with the hope of going
alone, and the intention of visiting Amity Court, she

132 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

was scarcely so much charmed with the arrangement as
she wished lo appear. But she would not interfere
with their plans, and so followed them into the car-
riage with her usual docility.

" Which way? " asked the footman, as he closed the
door.

Mrs. Donaldson exi)ectetl her companions would have
some choice, so did not give the order.

'' AVhere is it? " cried Mrs. Meredith, gayly, turning
to her ; " where does your fancy lead j'ou, Madame
Fanciful?"

Finding the decision thus suddenly thrust uix)n her-
self, Mrs. Donaldson said hastily, " Amity Court," more
because she had no time to frame a different plan,
than because she really cared to drive there with her
present company.

"Where is Amity Court?" asked Mrs. Waters.

" I don't exactly know," Mrs. Donaldson replied,
timidl}'.

But it seemed the driver did ; for he was driving
rapidly on, and the wheels, spinning merrily, soon
turned into the narrow limits of that poverty-haunted
place. The horses baited.

"Which house, marm?" asked the footman at the
door.

" You '11 have to ask some one where the Canton chil-
dren live/' said Mrs. Donaldson, with some hesitation.

THE LADIES. 133

It was an hour past noon, and the children were all
at home, except To:n, for their noonday rest. •

" There are some strangers coming," said Harry, to
whose patient, listening ears every footstep of the house
was familiar.

Ked cut short his interesting story of a little lost
dog that had figured in to-day's adventures, and all the
children held their heads statue-like to listen for so long
that they looked like a group of frightened rabbits with
sensitive ears erect.

The approacliing tread of strangely gentle feet,
accompanied with the faint rustle of voluminous
robes, was a long time in reaching the upper landing
just outside their door. But there at last it stopped,
and a timid knock startled the silent and astonished
children.

Bess opened the door, and politely asked her elegant
visitors to enter. There was a little stiffness about
their entrance. When Mrs. Donaldson had declared
her intention of going to see the Cantons, Mrs. Mere-
ditli had bestowed all manner of contempt on the idea.
Yet sliC persisted not only in carrying it out, but also
in leaving the caiTiage and accoiijpanjdng her daughter
on the visit. She was anxious to see where she went
and what she did She could not have her falling into
any foolish extravagance for some low creatures, or,
worse yet, getting personally interested in orphan

134 THE CHIl-DRKN OF AMITY COURT.

cbildi'i 11, ill this miserable portion of the city, and
perliaps driving here alone to visit them. She could
not sufficiently congi'atulate herself on having come
out to-day with Mrs. Donaldson for the ride. If there
was stiifness, awkwardness, embarrassment, so much
the better. Mrs. Meredith meant to be as awe-inspir-
ing as she could ; and, to do her justice, she certainly
knew how to exercise a strong repellent power if she
chose.

Bess, who welcomed very prettily Mrs. Donaldson's
sweet face, felt chilled and crushed most unpleasantly
by the haught>' gaze and manner of the other two ladies.
Jemmj', recognizing at once the "pretty auntie" of
Bella Waters, was smitten with a wave of hospitality,
and, leaving his dinner, he walked straight to her,
holding out his hand. But he said nothing. He
tried to think what it was his mother used to say when
friends came that she was glad to see. He wanted
very much to sa^' something, but the words would
not come. So he only stood with his brown little
hand clasped in her daintil}'^ gloved one, stariug up
into her lovely face with a bright smile of welcome.
Meanwhile, Bess had placed chairs for the other ladies,
and they had settled their ample dresses, and sat
proudly upright, regarding the surroundings with a
disdainful air.

" So this is your home ? " asked Mrs. Donaldson,

THE LADIES. 135

as she took the chair Bess offered, and looked into
Jemmy's admiring eyes.

" Ye-es ; I live here just now, awhile," he an-
swered, slowly. Then catching Nora's hand, and
leading her forward, he said, " This is Nora."

"Nora Canton, is it?"

" Nora Craig," cried Jemra}', quickly.

" He 's my brother," explained Nora.

" 0, yes ! "

" And this is Bess," pursued Jemmy, taking her by
the hand to draw her towards the lady.

Bess, embarrassed by the other ladies, who were
looking coolly around the room, made a timid courtes}',
and retired to a chair bj'^ the table.

"And that's Ned, and that's Harry in the bed,"
Jemmy said, hastily pointing and enumerating.

Having finished doing the honors of this rapid intro-
duction. Jemmy became suddenly aware of the Gorgon
gaze of Bella's mamma, and relapsed into a most
unnatural shyness.

" Is Harry sick? " asked IVIrs. Donaldson.

Jemmy was staring straight in the face of Mrs.
Waters, who, already out-stared by him, had transferred
lier regards to the most disreputable looking one of the
family, in bagg}' trowsers, g im}' hands, shaggy, uncut
and not over-well combed hair, and f:eckled. homely
face, — iSed, the new&boy. Ned's appearance never <fid

136 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

him an}' great credit, and he was, if possible, more
unprepossessing than usual to-day, owing to recent
accidents to his clothes. But notwithstanding these
disadvaptages, Ned bore the ordeal of her scrutiny
with admirable indifference, even bestowing a grin of
approval on her own elegant attire, which suited his
taste exactl}', and mentally resolving that his wife
should have just such a suit sometime, when he got
rich.

" No, marm,*' said Bess, in answer to Mrs. Donald-
son's kind inquiry concerning Harrj'. " He is quite
well."

" I alwaj's thought he was sick ! " exclaimed Jemmy,
bounding suddenly to the bedside, where little Harry
sat, propped up on his pillows, the coverlet drawn
upon his lap. and his threadbare jacket made from one
of his father's old coats of fine broadcloth, buttoned
neatly to his chin, where a narrow white collar relieved
his pale face. Harry was always dressed more nicely
than th(! others. There was nothing to soil or even
wear his clothes, and his sensitive, transparent skin
seemed fitted only for finer fabrics.

"Why don't you get up. then? You shan't lie in
bed if 3'ou 're not sick ! " And Jemmy tore aside the
coverlet and caught Hairy around the waist. A white
spasm of dread crossed Han y's face.

Jemmy started suddenly back with dumb horror in

THE LADIES. 137

his ronnd ej'es, and ran to Nora. Burying his face in
her lap, he gave vent to a series of mournful cries, as if
he would never be comforted.

" What is the matter, Jemmj' ? " asked Nora, ten-
derly-.

"O! he hasn't — he hasn't got any legs! Oo-
oo-oo ! "

Nora knew it, and tried to calm Jemmy.

Ilany turned awa}' his face, and toars of shame and
pain rolled down his pale cheeks, while Bess sheltered
him with herself from the astonished gaze of the ladies,
and said gentle, loving words of comfort. Even Mrs.
Meredith relaxed a little her severe elegance, and said
" Poor boy ! " in her silvery accents. But Mrs. Waters
was simph' annoyed, and showed it plainlj'.

The painful moment brought Ned into prominence.
He felt the need of a diversion of thought, and was
read}' to furnish it. Mrs. Donaldson was trying to aid
Nora in pacifying Jemm}'. Mrs. Meredith had ven-
tured a word in commiseration for Harry. Mrs. Waters
alone sat erect and unsympathetic.

Stepping from his corner, where he had not relin-
quished si}' bites of his lunch, spite of the august com-
pany, Ned addressed her as being the most formidable
of the party, and also the least occupied with any
interest in the turn which affairs had taken.

" Please, marm, I like 3'our dress very much. I don't

138 THE CHILDREN OF AMITT COURT.

see one like it, or half so handsome, from one year's
end to another."

" I don't know how you should be likely to," replied
Mrs. Waters, with a toss of her head and contemptu-
ous curl of her lip .

" O, we of the newspaper-perambulating corp^ see
almost everything. We see lots of grandeur some-
times, — but the grandeur never sees us, of course."

Mrs. Waters made no reply, unless another toss of
her head were such.

" It 's ver3' sad al)out Harry," said Mrs. Meredith.
" So 3'oung ! How did he lose his limbs? "

A little pain cra;np cam3 in Ned's fixce, as he an-
swered, bravely, though in a lower tone, that Harry
might not hear, —

" He never had any. Bom so."

Words failed oven Mrs. Meredith. She tried to ex-
press S3'mpathy, pit}', regret, in her face, but horrified
surprise would predominate. Even Mrs. Waters looked
astonished.

Ned did not like the prevailing sentiment. It hurt
the Cantons, always, to be forced to acknowledge that
Harr^' was so terribly different from other folks. They
knew so well that in many ways he was infinitel}- better
and lovelier than average humanity, that they shrank
from common pity and commiseration.

*' I 'm sorry j'ou took the trouble to come up all these

THE LADIES. 139

stairs to make us a visit," Ned began aggressively, and
speaking pointedly to INIrs. Meredith and Mrs. Waters,
with liis back to Mrs. Donaldson, that she might not
be included in the i*eraark. " I don't think j'ou had
any special call to, and j'ou might ha* known you'd
find something to shoc'v sucli fine feelings as yours
are."

" IVIrs. Donaldson is ready to go now, I presume,"
said Mrs. Meredith, turning to her daughter, who was
still bending over .lemmy. With Nora's help the little
fellow had been diverted from his agonized frame of
mind, and was regaining his usnal equilibrium.

" It was I who wanted to come here to see you," said
Mrs. Donaldson to Ned, in a doubtful voice. " But I am
sorr}' if you think it was taking too great a liberty ; I
know r was not invited."

" I did n't say yon" Ned answered, confused with
this application of his words. " You came because you
wanted to, and af course we are glad to see such com-
pany. But these ladies never wanted to come, and now
they — they — "

Ned stopped, at a loss to express his objection or
complaint against the fine ladies who were already
nearly out ,of the room.

"May I come a;^aiu, if I will come alone?*' asked
Mrs. Donaldson, in a low tone

Ned was growing very uncomfortable in his embar-

140 THE CIIILDUEN OF AMITY COURT.

rassment. But good feeling overcame shame, and he
said, earnestly, —

" Please, — you know I did n't mean you. You are
kind and good, and we could n't help being glad if you
should come."

Mrs. Donaldson smiled half sadly, yet she was happ}'
— a tearful kind of happiness — that she had succeeded
in making one hearty friend.

" Then I shall come again, sometime." Will you be
glad to see me?" she asked, as she bent over Harry,
and took his fair, thin hand in hers.

" O, yes, marm ! " said he; "but I think you'd
better not bring the others. They would not enjoy
coming, and — we don't," he added, hesitatingly.

Mrs. Donaldson smiled. " I '11 remember," she said ;
and shaking hands kindly with each one, she followed
the sound of the retreating robes of the rest of the
party.

" What ever induced you to want to go to such a
place?" exclaimed Mrs. Meredith, in her usual lan-
guid tones, when they were once more seated in the
carriage, and whirling away to more pleasant scenes.

" Ria seems to have some low tastes," observed
Mrs. Waters ; " I suppose she learned them in Scotland,
visitin;^ the tenantry. It is quite the fashion there to
play Lady Bountiful and cultivate tender interest in the
poor, is n't it ? You '11 find it is n't so stylish here."

THE LADIES. 1 il

" I 'm sure this experience will care yon of ever try-
ing it again," said Mrs. Meredith. " You will see
that our poor are not at all like tid}', decent peasantiy.
It is natural they should not be. Because here in a
free country, nobody has any business to be poT. Only
the shiftless, miserable, idle classes are so ; the better,
more decent, and industrious people can live very com-
fortably without help. Charity, in New York, is only
encouragement to idleness."

Mrs. Donaldson did not reply.

"There's an olcirant turnout," said Mrs. "Waters.
And so the co:;A-ersation drifted away to the more com-
mon topics of style, fashion, and the coming summer
journe3^

Mrs. Donddson was silent, but not convinced. She
could not argue the -subject ; but she rrmembered that,
even were her mother's h .rd theor}'' true, these were
only children. Six orphans, trying to earn a living
with their scanty knowledge and opportunity ; four of
them toiling to support one, a cripple, and one scarce
more than a babj', besides themselves. The anxious
motherliness of Bess and Nora, the brave earnestness
of shrewd, wide-awake Ned, the newsboy, all touched
her hungry heart, and made her long to see them again,
when no adverse influence should prevent her entering,
as heartily and kindly as she felt, into the stor}' of
their life and plans. She longed to help them, but she

142 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

did ni^'t 3'et sec how it could be done. Meanwhile she
resolved to talk with her father about them, and to come
soon to see them a^ain, taking care that no one should
accompany her.

But it was not easy to carry out any plan so directly
at variance witli the whole tenor of Mrs. IMercdith's
life and occupations. There was always plenty of more
fashionable emploj^ment for Mrs. Donaldson, and
scared}' an hour in the day was free from her mother's
demands upon her company'. Thus it was many long
weeks before she again saw any of these children of
Amity Court.

THE LANDLORD. 143

CHAPTER XII.

THE LANDLORD.

" T AM so glad we have the rent ready ! " said Bess,

-■- as she rocked Harry, one very warm morning.
All the other children were away at their work, for
even little Jeramy was becoming quite useful iu selling
papers, and added no mean amount to the da^^'s receipts.

"It was good of Jemmy to give up his money so
readily," was Harry's reply.

" Yes," said Bess, laughingly ; " it seemed almost
like cheating him, he had so little idea of what ten
dollars is worth ! But what else could we do ? "

" I think he understood it," said Harry. " Xora and
I explained to him that it would pay the rent and buy
a nice Sunday dinner for all of us, and leave enough
to buy him a little wheelbarro'.v to hold Nora's papers,
too, Avhich was what he chose instead of the d:um, at
last, — though he did want the drum very much."

"What did he know about rent?" said Bess, laugh-
ing.

144 THE CUILUREN OF AMITY COURT.

" We told liim, and he understood. Whj', liess,
Jemmy isn't stupid, and rent is not very hard to
understand."

" Well, no, I suppose not ; but I had never heard of
it when I was at his age."

" I think children can understand the same things
grown folks can ; and I should think folks would tell
them all about their affairs. It must be a great deal
pleasauter. When I was little," said Harry, with a sigh,
" ami used to lie all day with nothing to think about, but
some little story you read for me, it was dreadfully'- hard.
You know how fussy and cross I was, and how I used
to moan and cry. 'T wasn't because I ached, as folks
thought. 'T was only because I had n't anything to
think of that interested me. After father was sick, and
we came to the city, and 1 heard all about the trouble,
somehow I was n't nearly so unhappy. Mother used to
try to hide things from me, but I would n't let her.
She thought it was hard to tell me trouble, but it was
not half so hard as not having auj'thing to think about.
Truly, Bess, the happy part of my life has been since
the trouble came, — especially since I picked rags, and
knew I was helping."

'• When I get so I can carve," resumed Harry, after
a pause, in which Bess still rocked softly, but held him
more closely and lovingly, " I shall be so glad ! I drew
a design to-day, but it was too fine for me to carve.

TUE LAXDLOHD. 145

To-clay I mean to try and cut something just to be
getting used to handling the knife and the wood. But
I am dreadfully lazy to-day, — seems as if I 'd like to
have you rock me all daj-. I suppose it is because it
is so hot."

" I wish this room was n't so hot," said Bess, looking
anxiously at the wide uncurtained and Windless win-
dows, where the sun's straight raj's beat steadily in from
his first rise in the morning till his last blink at night.

" There are some men walking about the house.
They may come up here. You 'd better pat me back
in bed," said Harry.

"Perhaps it's the landlord," suggested Bess, as she
laid him comfortably and tenderly on the cot. " It
is time for him."

" It is n't his step," answered Harry. " But then he
may have sent another man."

The footsteps continued to tramp about the house,
now on one floor, then on another, till at last they
reached the upper landing, and there was a knock at
the door of the Cantons' room.

Two gentlemen stoo<l outside and bowed, as Bess
opened the door. Neither of them was the landlord's
agent who had collected the rents ever since the Can-
tons had lived in Amity Court.

" Good-morning, good-morning ! " said quickly the
elder of the two, a bustling, nervous, little old man who
10

14G TIIIC CIIILDIilCX OF AMITY COURT.

stepped bacic with a deferential flourish, to allow the
other gentleman to enter first.

" This is the landlord, come to look after his tene-
ments and tenants," he continued, following liastily into
the room, and himself placing a chair for Mr. Salsb}',
before Bess had time to do so. " Not every landlord
would take so much trouble. Now, this seems a good,
large, air^' room, sir One could n't want a better tene-
ment than this, I 'm sui'e."

Mr. Salsby smiled roguishly as he remarked, " I can't
tell how I should like it till I have lived here."

" O, for 3'ourself, sir, I did n't moan, of coarse."

IMr. Salsby turned his chair to Bess, who had retreated
and sat down on Harry's bed, wondering what all this
visit might mean, and rejoicing more and more, in her
heart, that she had the rent ready. The landlord
could not be intending to send them out, for they had
always paid it promptly each month.

" How do you like tho room?" Mr. Salsby asked of
her.

" Very well, sir. It 4.>* large and airy. We like that,
— but it does get very hot here, days, in summer."

"Yes, I perceive that," said the landlord, smiling,
and wiping his forehead with a dainty handkerchief.
" Mr. Jenks, do you observe any change in tempera-
ture between this and the cellar of the block, where
we began our survey ? "

THE LANDLORD. 147

" Well — yes, sir — yes," replied Mr. Jeuks, in quick,
jerky tones " But you can't expect — no one can ex-
pect — a garret to be as cool as a cellar in summer."

" Not quite, I suppose," returned Mr. Salsby, with a
calmness very noticeable in its contrast with Mr. Jeuks.
" What do you say, little lady ; what do you think
would improve your tenement ? "

"We used to have blinds at home, sir," replied Bess,
timicly.

The answer showed so plainly that " at home " had
been something better than her present surroundings,
that ]Mr. Salsby was interested.

" Tlien you shall have blinds here," he answered,
quickly. " Now will you tell me what is your name,
and where was your home before you came here ? "

Bess replied with a short sketch of the family history,
and the loss of tlieir parents, ending with a summing-
up of their present condition.

" So we all live h"re, and have paid our rent every
month. I luive it ready to-day. Tom has got a place
in an office now. Ned and Nora sell papers, and
Jemmy helps, t'.iough he is onl}^ five 3'ears old, — but
he is large of his age, and seems older. Ilarr^'^ is
learning to carve and will earn something again, as
soon as he can, and I am going to work very soon. I
go out part of tlie day now."

" What do you do?"

1 18 THE CIIILDRKN OF AMIXr COURT.

Bess did not like to confess that slie sold papers,
after all that Tom had said. She could not help a
blush and look of shame.

" She sells papers, like Nora," said Ilarrj, quietly.
And Bess was relieved to observe that the gentleman
seemed to have none of Tom's objections to the work.

" Very good tenants ; very good indeed, I should
think," observed Mr. Jenks, suddenly blowing his nose,
with his usual impetuosity.

Mr. Salsby sat gloomily silent, thinking that had the
room been comfortably tight and warm last winter,
these children might not now be motherless. Such
a sharp pain of remorse came over him, as he thought
of the ten-ible result of what was certainly his remiss-
ness, and for which he spared himself no jot of blame,
that he could n(;t answer, and only sat looking sadly
and thoughtfull}'- down at the floor.

" Here is the rent, sir," Bess said, offering the money.

Mr. Salsby looked up quickly. His voice was want-
ing, or he would have bid her keep it. But Mr. Jenks
hastened to take the money, and proceeded to fumble
the papers of his pocket-book, till ho found a signed
receipt for it,

•' It is all right. I am IMr. Salsby's agent. I am to
have the care of these tenements in future ; I shall
collect the rents and make any repairs necessary. All
complaints, requests for blinds, and so forth," he said

THE LANDLORD. 149

witli a laugh, " will be addressed lo rae, and," he adde.],
with a respectful bow to the landlord, " with your
sanction, promptly carried out."

" I shall not fail to look at the buildings myself also,
Mr. Jenks," said the landlord.

" No need, not the least need ; and, excuse me, but
if 3'ou have an agent, it is best to trust him, you
know."

" I do trust you," was the polite reply ; " but," with a
smile, '' I shall also take care that you shall not forget
anything. My former agent had a very poor memory.
He often forgot my orders. I shall go and look for
myself, to be sure that 3'ou do not forget."

The little old man bowed hastily, and replied, " Cer-
tainl3% sir, certainly," with great conciliation.

Bess was wondering whether the agent would prove
as kind as the landlord, and very glad to know that Mr.
Salsby intended to keep watch of his tenants for him-
self, in future.

Meanwhile there was a sound of coming steps on the
stairs, and voices, too, were heard. Ned came scam-
pering up, — not noisily, for he was barefooted, and very
lightfooted also, — and hitting the door a thud with his
heel to open it, he I'olled himself in like a wheel, arms
and legs for spokes, in a very unique and scientific
method of somersault It was a trick he had learned
to amuse baby Harry in his careless youth, and had not

150 THE criiLDR;:x of amity court.

practised since graver duties had devolved upon him.
lie ceased revolving, and stood erect befo:e IIarr3's
bed, but also before two strange gentlemen. IMore-
over, this unusual method of progress being somewhat
at variance w^ith attraction of gravitation, the pennies
forsook his baggy pockets, while his heels were upper-
most, and went earthward in a shower, rolling raer-
ril}^ away into f;orners, under beds and chairs, as
if themselves intent on a good game of " hide-and-
seek."

Ned stood astonished and abashed, as Nora and
Jemmy pushed in at the half-open door. The uneasiest
of grins spread on his queet* little face, and diving his
hands into his nearly empty pockets, he muttered, —

" I forgot all about the coppers."

Ned's object being, however, to amuse Harry, the
effort must be considered an eminent success. Harry
laughed and laughed, till he liad to hold with both hands
the sides of his curly head, it ached so Jemmy and
Nora ran to pick up the pennies, laughing gayl}'' at the
fun. Even the two gentlemen could not resist the ab-
surdity of the entrance ; and poor Bess, puzzled and
frightened, was glad to follow their good-natured exam-
ple and laugh with them. Then s'.ie hastened to intro-
duce to them Ned, as her brother, the newsboy. She
said it proudly, with a look of honest trust and admira-
tion at the droll, kind-hearted, keen-witted little fellow,

THE LANDLORD. 151

that both gentlemen could not but see, and rate Ned
therefore the higher in their opinion.

"Bess had the money for you to day, sir, all right,
I believe,*' said Ned, in a business tone, not quite cer-
tain to wliich gentleman the remark should be addressed.

"Yes, all light, quite right," quickly replied Mr.
Jenks, running his fingers through his thin gray hair,
and wondering how mueii longer Mr. Salsb}' was going
to sit broiling in this hot atlic. " I gave her the
receipt."

" And there shall be blinds added to keep out this
terrible sun," said Mr Salsby. " Do not forget, Mr.
Jenks, and have them on as soon as possible ; not
another day without them. Then you will find it a com-
fortable tenement, I hope " he added, turning to Ned.

" Yes, sir ; for summer."

" Yes, I understand ; I will have it made snug and
warm before another winter. It cannot be really
habitable in cold weather. I will have that done also,
in due season."

" Thank you, sir," cried Ned and Bess together.

"And what is the matter with your sick brother?"
asked Mr. Salsb\'. '• Has he been sick long?"

" He is not sick, sir, but crippled," replied Bess.

" I '11 tell yer," said Jemmy, tugging at his coat skirt,
to call his eyes down to himself.

" Hush, Jemmy," said Nora ; adding, in a whisper,

152 THE CniLDREX OF AMITY COURT.

" Harry won't like it." And Jemmy forbore the delight
of giving information to the gentleman.

" Seems to me he does not look well," said the land'
lord, kindly, taking Harry's hand in his, as he stood by
the bedside. " His face is flushed, his eyes are hazy,
and his hand is very hot."

"Aren't you well, Harr}'?" asked Bess, tenderly,
bending over him and smoothing away the light curly
hair from his burning face.

" O, 3'e3, 1 'm well," said Harry, freeing his hand from
Mr. Salsby's to draw it across his eyes, " only it is so
hot here, it makes m}^ head ache. It will go when the
sun goes down, and the cool night comes on. AVe have
fine, cool nights here, sir," Harry continued, to Mr.
Salsb}' ; " the wind blows in fresh from the river and
away out at sea. "We can hear the water lap and plash
all the time. I like the place for that reason — and for
man}' others, and I shall be glad if we can stay here
next winter and have it comfortable."

" You shall have it comfortable, little man," said
Mr. Salsb}'. " And, Mr. Jenks, don't forget to have
the blinds put up to-night, or to-morrow morning
early."

"The}' '11 need painting, sir," suggested Mr. Jenks,
wiping off his face, which was growing quite rosy.

" Find some already painted. Or have them put up
without," said the landlord, impatiently.

THE LANDLORD. 153

Mr. Jenks stared, opened his mouth to say that
would be shiftless and wasteful, but shut it again in
silence.

Nora had picked up the last of the pennies, and
brought them to Ned.

*' And 3'ou have introduced the innovation of letting
girls sell papors, with boys?" said Mr. Salsby, smiling
roguishly upon Ned, as he was returning the specie
Nora brought to his pockets.

" Not exactly," replied Ned. " Nora sells papers,
but she doesn't keep I'ouad with us boys at all, and
I *ve given out distinctly that I '11 lick the first fellow
that does n't let her alone, and leave her a clear field
and fair chance. They know me ; and so they don't
run her. She has her haunts and sells there ; and they
just go somewhere else "

Bess looked up, astonished. So did Harry. Nora,
having been privately instructed by Ned concerning
this arrangement long ago, only said simply, as if re-
porting to Ned, —

" They have all kept away, and behaved well."

" The threat must bs very effectual, if it frightens
all the newsboys of tlie city into respectful submis-
sion," said Mr. Salsby, not very much pleased w'th
the story.

Ned laughed good-humoredly. " O, I only said that ;
it 's all talk, — an emphatic way of making a request.

154 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

They understood it, and j^ou would, if — if you were
much acquainted with uewsboj'S, sir," Ned ended, mak-
ing up in respectfulness of tone for the words, and
looking up in Mr Salsby's face with bright, honest eyes.
" I never had a fight with a newsboy but once since
I've been in the trade, an 1 then the rest all said it was
right ; and if I could n't have won without, they would
have helped me. But it was better I should beat him
alone, if I could, of course ; and I did." And Ned
turned away, a little a shame 1 of what seemed like tell-
ing of his own exploits.

" I shall look in here to see 3'ou again," said Mr.
Salsby, '• and I hope the blinds will take all the flush
out of Harry's cheeks."

" I hope so^ too," echoed Bess.

*' And if you get oat of work, or into any trouble,
very likely I can help j'ou in some way." And Avith a
departing bow, the gentlemen went out and down the
stairs.

" Very fine children ; quite remarkable, altogether,"
said Mr. Jenks, as they regained the sidewalk.

" Decidedly my most interesting tenants," said Mr.
Salsby, with a pleasant smile, remembering some of the
other rooms they had visited, the slatternly house-keei>
ing, and coarse, rough occupants, with many complaints,
tardy rent, and bad manners.

" Those children, I '11 wager now, will get on better

THE LANDLORD. 155

than half the grown people do around here. Because
they seem to know how to plan and provide."

" They come of good family, and have evidently
had some schooling in the cares of life already."

" O, yes. No doubt, r.o doubt ! "

Nora sat perched on the foot of Harry's cot.
"Wasn't he nice, Bess?" she asked.

" Yes "

" lie 's the same one who was so kind to me, and
gave me the silver piece that Jemmy wears. I think
he is tlie nicest gentleman I ever saw."

" It 's jolly having such a good landlord," said pro-
saic Ned. '• The other was a sharp, rough one."

" Ah, but he was the agent. It is the same land-
lord," said Bess ; " he has only changed his agent, and
I did not like Mr. Jcnks so very much."

" Nor I, either," said IlaiT}-.

" But he says he is coming himself to see that ever}-
thing is right," said Nora. " lie will do as he promises.
He said the other day, in the street, that he must come
here — but I d'.d n't suppose he would. And now he
has."

" He came to look after his houses, not after us,"
pronounced Ned.

" But he is looking after us — the blinds, 3'ou know,"
said Bess.

" We have n't got 'em yet," said Ned, quietly and

156 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

doubtfully, " but I hope we shall have 'em," he added,
seeing Harry's face sadden at his doubt.

" I am sure we shall," said Bess.

" I wonder," began Xora, slowly, — "I wonder if ho
would know anything about Eva Roberts." And she
sighed deeply. " I did so want to ask those ladies, the
pretty one, I mean, if she knew her. Somehow I
thought perhaps she might, for Miss Eva was very fine
and dressed beautifully, like them. But Jemmy cried
so I could n't get a chance, and then I forgot it just as
she went away. I remembered her again to-day, when
I saw the gentleman. But I suppose he would n't know
her. If I could only find her, perhaps she would help
us to find mamma."

" The lady said she was coming again, and then you
can ask her," said Harry.

" I certainly will," said Nora.

OKE LESS. 157

CHAPTER XIII.

ONE LESS.

" O EE what I have found ! " said Nora, pushing open

>^-^ the door, one hot afternoon, and pouring out
a pile of little blocks and chips of sdft pine wood upon
IIarr3^'s bed. " There are lots of 'era, and Jemmy has
filled his baiTow with them."

The bits and ends of mouldings had suggested to the
children Harry's carving ; and feeling sure, from the
curious shapes of thes<?, that the material must bo suit-
able, they hastened to bring home a large quantity.

" They are nice," said Ilarr}-, sitting up to turn them
over and feel tliem, " and they do smell so fresh and —
and — woody — 0,1 'd like to see the country again ! "
And Harry's longing eyes seemed looking straight
through the walls of their attic room, over the broad,
slow river, to where cool, flickering breezes toyed with
innumerable merry green leaves, and nobody talked but
the squirrels and crickets.

" Shall I bring ^'our knife? " cried Nora, joj-fuUy.

158 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COUKT.

" Yes, I '11 try what I can do, but I can never cut so
smooth as this is, you know. This is machine work."

" IIow do 3'ou know?"

" Because I know no knife could cut it so smoothly,
and no hand so true and even. It is n't such figures as
these that I want to make, but lace-work patterns, or
leaves and vines, like those we find in the woods. God
does not try to make his tree-trunks and his vine-stems
all polished olT smooth. lie likes the roughness, and
the room to grow and change. And I like it best, too."
And with the words Ilarrj' drew a long sigh.

All the last week he ha 1 been longing for the cool
aiis of the woods, and the sweet, still life of the coun-
try. Perhaps it was only the bitter heat of his attic
room, and the scorching glare of sunshine on the river
reflected upon the whitewashed rafters over his head.
The blinds had not yet come, and the summer's heat
was unabated. Sometimes, as he lay there alone, the
hot roof seemed to come down slowly nearer and nearer
to his flushed face, and the sun filtei'ed through it, as
through gauze. Sometimes he wished the roof and walls
were torn away. It would be cooler out in the sun's
fiercest rays, where a breath of air could yet play unfet-
tered. The thin roof only sifted out the air and let in
all the heat. Then his head ached all the time. That
was the heat, too

But he took his knife, and sat up, when Nora brougbi

ONE LESS. 159

the blocks. Jemm}' tumbled the contents of his barrow
into a corner, when, with considerable difficulty and
Nora's help, he had got thein up-stairs. Then the two
children went back to their work, and Harry was again
left alone. He found the thinnest piece of the wood,
and sketching with pencil the vague outline of a vine
upon a trellis, he began to carve. It was hard work.
There seemed to be no strength in his slender hands,
and his arms ached to his shoulders with the effort.
He had to stop often to rest them. Still he toiled on,
sometimes clasping a hand over his forehead where the
throbbing pain blinded his ej'cs, and blurred the del-
icate tracery of his pencil. Busied with his work, and
the struggle with pain and weakness, he did not hear a
light step on the stairs, till Mr. Salsby, clad all in the
coolest of white linen, stood within the room.

" No blinds 3'et ! " were his first words " I '11 go
down and see Mr. Jenks at once ; it is two daj'S since
the}' were to be put up. So you are alone to-day.''

" Yes, sir," said Harr}', with a glad smile, " I 'most
alwa3s am. The}' have to go away to work, you know."

" And are you better to-day? "

" I guess so, but — it's so hot. you see," he added.

" Yes, terrible ! " replied Mr. Salsby, glancing frown-
ingly at the windows. " And 30U are not so well? "

" My head aches more. I suppose that 's the heat.
And my eyes, — sometimes I can't see. I 've been

160 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

trying to work a little, but the heat has taken away all
my strength."

" I 'ra afraid you had n't much to begin with," said
the landlord, sadly. " What do you want to make you
comfortable ? "

" I should like, — if it would n't be too much trouble,
sir," Harry stammered, " for you to pour me a cup of
water. There 's some in the pitcher."

Mr. Salsby laughed, and went with alacrity. The
simplicity of the request seemed out of all comparison
with llarry's hesitancy about asking it.

'' But this is warm water. I '11 get some fresher,"
said Mr. Salsby.

" O, no ! " cried Harry. But the gentleman was
gone ; and after a time returned with not only cool
water, but lemons and sugar, from which he com-
pounded the most delicious drink Harry had ever
tasted. Then Mr. Salsby proceeded to use a whole
pailful of water in sprinkling the floor of the room,
till it mitigated the scorch of the air, and seemed
even to excite faint breezes through the windows and
door.

" ;Now I am going to send up those blinds," said
the landlord, gayly, with a very bright and happy
smile on his handsome face. " And I shall come
again early to-morrow morning, to see if they are
here. I hope you will be feeling better by that time.

ONE LESS. 161

Good-bye." And he shook hands with Harry as he went
away.

But the smile, so gay and happy, died away, as he felt
the feverish heat of that tiny palm, and saw the painful
gaze of the blue eyes, dull and hazy with suffering.
He did order the blinds ; and so peremptorily, that
the}' were, with much noise and clatter in the Canton
household, put on early the next morning. He did
more ; for bsfore visiting his tenants next day, he
secured the compan}' of a doctor, who was to see
what could be done for little crippled Harr}', and give
him an}' relief possible. The patient, feeble, suffering
little fellow woke a great interest in the kind landlord's
heart. Such a child was hardly fit for this world, and
could not long inhabit it ; but Avhatever could be done
by science and care to make comfortable and easy his
short sta}', Mortimer Salsby resolved should bo done
for little Harry Canton. To separate him from his
brothers and si.ster, he saw would be only the crudest
kindness. Whatever was done must be done without
breaking the little family that clung together so strong-
ly, now' th-.it only the orphaned little ones remained.
But a better tenement c juld certainly be found for them,
better work for Bess, perhaps ; and many delicacies for
a sick child's appetite, and many hints for care and
nursing from a doctor's knowledge and skill, his purse
could Buppl}'. There were many calls on the time and
11

1G2 THE CniLDREX OF A>nTT COURT.

attention of this wealthy young Ian llord, but he did
not forget Harry. He was now, for tlie first time, be-
ginning to feel tlie responsibility involved in his wide
possessions, and by personal care an 1 interest for his
tenants he was trying to faithfully serve in the stew-
ardship of wealth.

One by one the children came home for their dinner,
till all but Tom, who never came at noon, were gatlf
ered in the long i-oora. Then Harry told about his
visitor, and all were pleased and grateful for his kind-
ness, and delighted with the sprinkled fliwr, which had
done much to relieve the oppressive, smothering heat
of the place Even Xed felt convinced now that the
blinds would be soon hung, and the room screened
from the sun's glare. The}'^ brought more water and
again drenched the dr3-ing boards, while Bess rocked
Harry in her loving arms as long as she could stay
from the " evening trade."

" I '11 go down for the new editions now." sai I Ned,
as soon as he had finished his lunch and brought more
water. Nora an 1 Jemmj' were splashing the floor, and
finding great fun in the operation. " Don't fail to meet
mo half an hour hence." And Ned scampered down the
stairs and was gone.

' How cool and fresh it seems ! " said Bess, as the
damp floor began to steam.

'• I wish I had some on my face and hands," said
Harry.

ONE LESS. 163

'• Why, so you shall," cried Bess ; and soon she was
bathing tenderly the hot checks and burning palms.

But the half hour was soon over, and all three must
go to meet Netl Harry" was laid lovingly back on his
couch, and left once more alone Jn the long, low, tire-
some attic.

Next morning the Cantons were later than usual in
starting for the day's work. The excitement of Mr.
Jenks' appearance with two men and a set of window-
blinds delayed them. The blinds were nicely painted
a cool green, and after considerable tramping and talk-
ing, sorting of hinges and driving of screws, they were
finally hung and the room pleasantly darkened by them.
The mellow light was sweetly refreshing to Harry's
dazzled, aching eyes. When the floor was brushed
clean of dusty footprints from the departed workmen,
and once more freshly sprinkled, there was an air of
shady comfort in the room, to which it had long been a
stranger. Nora and Jemni}^ hastened away to meet
Ned, after the sprinkling was ended This exercise
had at once become their mo3t delightful recreation.
Bess shook out the coverlet of the cot, and took up
Harry for the accus-omed rocking.

It was while lio sat wcaril}' i:i the rocker alone, and
Bess was preparing the bed, that Mr. Salsby and
another gentleman came gently up and knocked at the
half-open door. Mr, Salsby carried a large bundle,

164 THE CHILDREN OK AMITT COURT.

which he at once deposited on the table, and then re-
turning, inquired earnestly and kindly for Harry's
health. The morning was just as warm as had Tieen
every one for many days past. But Harry thought the
changes in the room had eased his head and he should be
quite well if he were onl}' a little stronger. I'ess came
and took him back to the bed, where sitting up against
the pillows he was more like " other folks," as she
always wished him to appear.

" Tliis looks more as it ought," said Mr. Salsby,
glancing about, and observing that his device of
sprinkling had been caught up and followed by the
children.

" The blinds make it very pleasant," said Bess ;
" and it seems a great deal cooler."

"But it is7i7, much," replied Mr. Salsb}-, with a
laugh. He said no more, for he had not yet found a
suitable place to which to move the children ; and,
until he should find that, it was worse than useless to
encourage discontent with their present home.

Meanwhile the strange gentleman was regarding
Harrj' with glances of keen inquiry, but he said
nothing to him until Mr. Salsby should open the
way.

" Yesterda}'," the landlord said, " I found Harry
alone, and he seemed in so much pain and distress,
that I have brought this gentleman. Dr. Menchen, to

ONE LESS. 155

see him to-day, hoping he can tell us something else
to do to make him more comfortable and happy."

"O, you don't think — it 's very kind of you, sir —
but you don't think Harry is sick, do you?" cried Bess.

" I hope not," replied Mr. Salsby, soothingly ; " but
he has suffered more than he would tell from the heat."

" I 'm so sorry ! " murmured Bess.

"But I'm better to-day," Harry said, flushing up
painfull}', as the doctor came to the bedside and took
his wrist gently in his professional Augers.

" Do you have much appetite ? " asked Dr. Menchen.

" Sometimes," replied Harry, indefinitely.

" He never cats much," said Bess. '' And he hsis
not wanted anything at all for three days back ; but
I made him eat, just to please me ; for I knew he
would get so weak if he didn't."

Mr. Salsb}- went to his bundle on the table, and
opening it, produced tempting oranges, bananas, and
a pineapple.

" Will something of this sort bring an appetite? " he
asked, offering one of the fairest oranges.

Harry's face brightened.

" O, yes ! " he answered.

Mr. Salsbj' deftly prepared it, rolling it first in his
hands, then cutting out with the point of a knife a
small round hole at the top, where Harry's lips were
soon busy applying the powers of suction.

166 THE CniLDRKX OF AMITY COURT.

The doctor sat b}' looking on, now and then asking
a few raox'e questions. But his presence did not inter-
fere with Harry's pleasure in the orange, nor with
Bess's delight in seeing him eat it.

" It is so ver}' good of you, sir, to bring him fruit,"
said Bess, the tears gathering in her eyes. " We can
never than'c j'ou enough."

" Don't tr}'," said the landlord, gravely ; and, rising,
he walked away to the window. He could not forget the
story of the poor mother of these children, shivering
her feeble life out in this cold garret, while he was
awa}' pleasuring among his friends at the West, whom
d little care and oversight of his houses would per-
haps have saved to them for many years.

"You don't think him sick, do you. Doctor?" Bess
asked of the ph3'sician.

' I will tell you the truth, little woman," the doctor
replied, looking kiudl3^ into her face, " and it is not so
very bad after all. He seems to me to have the scarlet
fever. Has he been exposed to it ? "

" I don't know, I 'm sure. Jso, — have you, Harr}' ? "

" No, I don't know — unless, — do you suppose Meg
had scarlet fever? She was sick, you know."

Bess grew pale, and looked up anxiously in the
doctor's face.

" Never mind," said Dr. Menchen, cheerily. " Eveiy-
body has scarlet fever once, and then it's over with.

ONE LESS. 167

"We will try and bring him safely through it, and per-
haps afterwards we can find something else to do for
him. We will try "

Bess was cheered, and even Harry smiled, though
the tears dimmed his eyes, and his lips twitched bitterly.

" I 'm always siciv and good for nothing ! " he said,
witli choking voice.

" O, Harry ! " sobbed Bess.

" I 'm Sony," Ilarry said, repentantly.

It was liis one only complaint. He had never spoken
of his headache and weariness. And afterward he only
lay quite still, enduring, but never murmuring at the
suffering that must be borne.

Dr. Menchen gave directions, and wrote a prescrip-
tion, which INIr. Salsby afterwards had put up, and him-
self brought to the sick child and administered his
first dose. The gentlemen went away, both promising
to come again next day. lless went out to lier duty of
selling newspapers, witli slow step, hating the work, and
longing to stay by Harry's bedside. But the work
must be done, or the family purse Avould bj quite too
low for the family expenses.

Bess had been able to relieve the doctor's anxiety
somewhat by telling him that the older children lia I all
been through the scarlet fever man^' years ago, when
Harry, a puny, sickly baby was carefully screened
from taking it. But as she went djwu tha avenue she

168 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

remembered Xora and Jemmy. "What should be done
with them? And was it not already too late to do
anything ? for they must already have had the oppor-
tunity of taking the fever. She saw Nora at her post,
and going to her, said, —

" There's been a doctor to sec Ilarry. The landlord
brought him. And he sa3-s Ilarry is^ going to have the
scarlet fever."

Nora looked up earnestlj'^ in Bess's grave face, and
said, —

"Is he much sick? Jemmj' and I had it, a wliile
ago, — last summer, I think, — and we were scarcely
sick abed at all."

" Then 3'ou have had it ! " exclaimed Bess, xnth. great
relief.

" Yes, we 've had it," jeplied Nora.

" It was you aud Jemmy that made me anxious. All
of us have had it. But Ilarry was verj' little then, and
was kept away from us so he need not take it."

" Is he much sick? " asked Nora again.

" lie does not seem 'so, now. I thought nothing but
the heat ailed him. Ilarry thinks he took it of ' Amity
Meg'"

*' Jemmy says the Crowley baby is sick. I guess
that's the fever, too," said Nora.

Bess sold papers with heavy, anxious heart that
day, and as soon as she saw the crowd thinning and

ONE LESS. 169

the best of the day over, she hastened back to the little
boy at home.

Harry looked brightly up to greet her ; but lii., face
was burning, his ej'es drooped quickly into a du'l, un-
seeing languor, and his faint breath was shprt and-
quick, between his jjarched lips. lie had not eaten the
oranges or bananas Bess left beside his bed within
reach. lie said he was bettor, his head did not ache
so sharply, and was only dull and heavy ; " getting
well," he called it. He took one or two sips of the
fresh orange Bess offered, but seemed too languid to
raise it himself to his lips, and only lay very quiet, witli
always a reassuring smile when Bess bent tenderly to
look into his face, and the cheery answer, " getting
bettor, getting quite well," for every anxious question.

Both Mr. Salsby and the doctor came, next da3%
They said little ; there was little to be said or done.

" The fever must run," Dr. Menchen told Bess, " and
it is already some days along. lie has been more ill
than you knew. But we will do all we can to make
him comfortable, and hope it may be a light run. That
is all we can do."

Bos.s sta^'cd at l;om3 after that, and waited on Harry
with everj'thing her loving heart could devise for his ease
and comfort. Harry thanked her with a smile, but he
seldom spoke. It seemed too much exertion. All day
long he hi}^ motionless a:ul silent, with sometimes only a

170 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COtTUT.

little, very little, faint fluttering sigh. He took the orange
juice or pineapple syrup that Bess brought to his lips, and
returned the same patient, grateful smile. But the light
in his eyes grew more rare, and his smiles more faint.

On the third day the doctor sat long by his side, and
when lie went away ?Jr. Salsby went witli hira. Half
an hour later Mr. Salsb^-^ looked in once more. Harry
lay just as before. Tom had come home, and was sit-
ting on the bed's edge gently fanning the sultry air
about the little sti.l face. Mr. Salsby beckoned Bess
aside, and asked, hesitatingly, —

" Shall you watch with him? "

"To-night?" she asked, a breathless fear stopping
her heart-beats suddenly,

" Have you done so? Shall you to-night?"

" We have not j^et. We sleep so near, and 1 wake
very quickly. It would be easy for him to just speak
to me, and I shou.d hear and come at once."

" Yes, easy, I know ; but he might not do it, — might
not know there was any need."

" Is there any need?" asked Bess.

" There might be. But we cannot tell."

" And you think he may die?"

" It is possible," said ]Mortimcr Salsby, gentl}'-, " and
possible not, but you want to bo forewarned. You do
not want, if it should come, he should be alone to bear
the dread without a word of cheer."

ONE LESS. 171

"Must I tell him?" whispered Bess, her fiice
bowed in her hands, but every sound stifled lest it reach
other ears.

" You know him best. Which would he prefer? "

Bess stood silent and trembling.

"Shall I come in, by and by, later in tlie evening,
and stay with 3'ou a part of the night?"

" If 3'OU would — " Bess murmured, wiping the tears
from her face, and preparing to take her place again by
Harry's bed. " Will you please, sir, take Tom down-
stairs and tell him ? "

« If you wish."

" I can't, for we can't both leave Harry. Tell Ned
and Tom both, please."

Down by the silent river, Mortimer Salsby told the
boys that their little crippled brotlier perhaps was dying,
— might not live to see another morning ; xip-stairs, Nora
and Jemmy went quietly asleep as usual ; Bess sat alone
as watcher bj- Ilarrj^'s side. The boys came back. Ned
lay down to sleep, after a very loving and tender good-
night. Only Tom and Bess sat in the long, low garret
where one feeble candle, placed upon the floor, cast un-
natural shadows rather than gave light. At half-past ten
Mr. Salsby softly entered. He bowed silently, glanced
at the bed and at the two sad-faced watchers, and asked
no question, spoke no word, but sat down by one of the
front windows and remained there, motionless as the rest.

172 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

An hour later Harry moved. Bess was beside him,
and Tom came also.

" What is it? " Harry asked, wonderingly.

" What is what?" returned Tom.

" Something strange," he murmured, " 3^ou don't go
to bed. The candle 's on the floor. There 's some one
over there b}' the window. Who is it ?

" It is the kind landlord, at the window," whispered
Bess. " lie came in to see how you are. And Tom
and I are sitting up."

" For me? " he asked, quickly.

*' Why, yes, for a while," Bess answered.

" It is just as 3'ou did for mother," Harry said,
thoughtfully. " Am I so sick? "

" Not so sick as mother was, we hope," Tom replied,
quickly.

" Bess ! " — HaiTy turned his faint eyes full on Bess's
face, — " is it, perhaps, dying? "

Bess smoothed the bright rings from off his temples,
and could not answer.

'• Tell me, Bess," he pleaded.
! "Per — haps," she whispered, slowly.

The bright smile that had been for days almost a
stranger to Harry's f.ice came suddenly back. He
heaved a little sigh and whispered, —

" Don't be sorry, Bess. Tom ; don't an}"^ of you — foi
I 'm so glad ! Father and mother are waiting for me,

ONE LESS. 173

and it will be so much happier than lying here any
longer."

Bess kissed his forehead, and the tears fell on his
face.

" O, don't ! " he begged.

Tom knelt by the bed and laid his cheek on Harry's
hand. Long they lingered silent'y.

At last Harry sighed faintly. He was weary. Tom
and Bess shook the pillows, placed him gently on them,
and went back to their sad, breathless watching.

Hours passed. Often tliey looked, to be quite sure
that fcc])le breath still flickered to and fro across the
parted lips. The gray of morning was dimming the
candle's shadows, when the long watch ended. Mr.
Salsby rose and came to the bedside. The fixed half-
open eyes saw nothing ; the nerveless hands were cold ;
and no more the life-breath floated through the peaceful,
smiling lips.

Just when it was, not one of them could tell ; but
Harry's soul had passed away to join his waiting
parents in tliat new world, where weariness and life-
long trouble cease, and our best life begins afresh.

174 THE CHILDREN OP AMITY COURT.

CHAPTER XIV.

LOUIS LEGRANGE.

THE sitting-room was small, with only two back
windows ; but it was not only neat and clean, it
was also cheery and tasteful, though few ornaments
were afforded .

There was little of the habitual worship of comfort so
common in American homes. No rocking-chair, no
lounge, not even an easy-chair was to be seen. Hut a
few straight-backed, slender-framed seats, with cush-
ions of blue damask, were placed here and there, in
convenient carelessness. The carpet, though worn and
faded, was of a soft, brown shade that harmonized well
with the chairs. Some boolvs were in a little case on
the wall. The table was heaped with sewing, beneath
which peeped corners of newspapers. It was hard to
ti'U the station of tlie occupants, by the furnishing of
the room. So many things were wanting that are
deemed first necessities, and so many things were there
that the poor seldom have.

LOUIS LEGRANGE, 175

Off the little sitting-room opened a bed-chamber
scarcely larger than a closet, but it held a bed and toilet
bureau. The wardrobe stood in the sitting-room.

It was afternoon. The early sun had long since left
these east windows. One blind was abeady open a
crack to give light to the footprints of a hurrying nee-
dle. A lady sat by the window very busy at her work.
It was a brilliant stuff, and her needle set fine stitches
of gay embroidery, such as only deft and delicate fin-
gers, guided by an artisi's eye and judgment, could pro-
duce. The lady was neither old nor young To-day,
as her head bent more earnestly over the work, and lit-
tle wrinkles of troubled thought gathered on her smooth,
clear brow, she was older than her wont. But her face
could brighten quickly into youth, and her trim, alert
figure, her cheery, heartsome ways, gave a merry, almost
girlish, appearance to a woman already past the half-
wa}' stage of life.

There was a rustle from the little bedroom, and out
through its half-open door came a pale, slight boy of
about thirteen. He moved languidly, and soon sat down
near his mother.

" Do you feel like sitting up awhile ? " asked Mrs.
LeG range, with a glance of loving welcome.

" I am much stronger to-day," replied Louis, bravely.

'' I think you do look better."

" And I want to go down to the office."

17G THE CUILDREN OP AMITY COURT.

" Not to-day."

" Yes, to-day. I am so afraid Cobden & Co. will
put another boy in my place."

" Did n't the gentleman say he would keep it for

you

p"

" 0, 3'es, for a day or two. But now it is three weeks
or more, and he cannot keep it much longer. Let me
go to-day. mother dear ; I '11 not hz gone long."

" You have not j'et eaten an^'thing suflSciently
strengthening for such a walk. "Wait till to-morrow,
and I will have a bit of nice beefsteak for your break-
fast, and then perhaps you can find strength for it "

Louis was silent, and acquiesced with a little sigh.

" I don't know what we shall do if I lose my place,"
he said, some minutes later, resting his elbows on the
table's edge.

" But 3'ou won't lose it," returned his mother, cheerily.
*' And now I must tell you what my letter said."

" Your letter ; have 3'ou had a letter?"

" Yes ; there was one this morning from your Uncle
Victor. He is coming to America by the next steamer ;
he ma^' bo here almost as soon as his letter."

" O, mother, will he help us?"

"It will be a great blessing to have him near us, for
counsel and sympathy at least. If you lose your place,
he may know what to advise, in order to get another.
But since the failm'e that was marked in the last French

LOUIS LEGKANGE. 177

paper, he must be as poor as we, and can never take
j-ou into business like his son, as used to be our hope."

" What else did the letter say?"

"Nothing. It was evidently written just in the
hurry and excitement of starting."

Louis went back, and lay down in the little bedroom.
He did not yet sit up all day, though the fever had
passed away after only a slight attack. He was not a
robust bo}' ; perhaps for that reason sickness dealt
lightly with him.

Soon he heard his mother's light steps moving briskly
about, and before many minutes she called him.

" Do you feel like coming to tea, Louis? "

He came directly, and took the chair beside the little
tea-tray, where was set out their delicate though frugal
supper.

At that moment there was a knock at the door of
the room, and instantly thereupon it was opened, and
an unmistakably Irish voice, proceeding from the out-
side chaos of a dark entry, said : —

'' There's a gintleman down-stairs inquiring for Mrs.
LeG range ; will he walk up ? "

" Did he send his card? "

" An' he did n't, thin ; but he said as his name was
LeGrange, too, I 'm thinking."

Mrs. LeGrange brushed past Bridget in the entry,
and hastened down the stall's. In tlie hall stood a man
12

178 THE cni:.DRE>f of amity court.

of very foreign appearance, whom she greeted with a
gentle, airy cordiality, and at once invited np to the lit-
tle sitting-room. There Loui? was quick to recognize
the Uncle Victor whom he had found so kind a friend
five 3'cars ago, when they passed the last year of his
father's life in France.

" But jon are changed, 3'ou are ill," said the lady,
gazing anxiousl}'' at the pale, drawn face displayed in
the clearer light of her little parlor.

" It was a rough vo3'age," he replied. " I have
suffered much on the way, and am not yet myself, I
find." And he leaned a heaA'y elbow upon the table.

" Go and lie down on Louis's bed while I pour 3'ou
a cup of tea ; that will refresh and revive 3'OU. Go,
that 's a good brother, and I '11 soon nurse 3'oa back to
your health."

" I thought I should be all right when once I was on
land again," he said, as the white spasm again crossed
his face ; and, rising, he followed Mrs. LeGrange to the
bedroom, and submitted to be treated as an invalid.

Louis brought the tea, and his uncle tasted it ; but
he could not eat the delicate bit of supper that accom-
panied it. He was too ill to talk ; and the many ques-
tions Mrs. LeGrange longed to ask were silenced, and
postponed till a better day. But the next day saw him
no better, nor man3' after it.

Louis LeGrange went to see Cobden &. Co., in the

LOUIS LEGRAK6E. 179

faint hopo that the place he had vacated abruptly when
his sudden sickness prostrated him, might be yet open
to him. Mr. Saunders had promised to keep it for
hira in case of his absence from sickness, but then that
was for occasional daA's ; and this absence had been for
weeks. He was not so much surprised, as discouraged,
on entering the warehouse, to find Tom Canton em-
ployed at what had formerl}' been his work.

Tom was sweeping the outer office when Louis
appeared. INIr. Saunders and the firm had not yet come
in. The two clerks were opening their desks, and
arranging books and papers for the day's work.

" So you are here ? " said Louis LeGrange, stopping
in the doorwaj'.

" Yes, and you are come back for your place ? "
returned Tom, dubiously.

The two boys stoo«l for a moment regarding each
other. It was rather an awkward meeting. Louis was
bitterl}' disappointed at losing his position, and Tom
felt as if he ought to relinquish it to him, yet knew not
what else to do himself.

" Wait a minute till I 've done sweeping," Tom said.
When it was finished, Tom came and stood by Louis.
" Have 3^ou been sick?" he asked, noting the pale face
and thin hands.

"Yes. I have just come out for the first time. How
long have you been here ? "

l'~50 TIIK CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

" Three or four weeks. I happened to come in the
very first clay you were absent."

"And you were engaged at once?" Louis asked,
reproachfully.

" I was told to come the next day, — Mr. Cobden
engaged me ; Mr. Saunders did not seem to like it ; I
don't think he has ever been pleased to have me here "

Louis looked a little relieved. " IMr. Saunders prom-
ised to keep the place for me," he explained, " and so
I had hoped he would."

" O, he did try to," exclaimed Tom, in his turn
relieved with the idea that Mr. Saunders was actuated
by no dislike or aversion for himself. " He said all he
could for you, but Mr. Cobden would have me come."

" Well, I'm glad for you," Louis said kindly, though
sadl3\ " It is a good place. Mr. Saunders is a little
queer sometimes, but if 3'ou do just as he says and ask
no questions, he will like yon and be kind to you."

" I have never thought he liked me," Tom said, look-
ing inquiringly down into Louis's face.

Louis was not only two or three years younger than
Tom, but also a great deal smaller. His delicacy and
child-like appearance were only the more noticeable
beside Tom's stalwart growth and manly air, as he
returned a wondering look to Tom's glance.

'• I 'm sure I don't know," Louis said. " Has he ever
scolded you?"

LOUIS LEGRANGE. 181

" No," replied Tom.

" Then you must be mistaken," Louis said, as he rose
to go. " There 's no use in my waiting."

" Yes," cried Tom. " I 'm only on trial. They may
want to have 3'ou back again."

" You did n't tell me 3'Ou were on trial."

" I supposed you would know it. Here comes Mr.
Saunders already."

Mr. Saunders entered with a hurried, absorbed air,
nodded carelessly to the clerks, but bestowed no notice
on Tom. Seeing Louis, he suddenly exclaimed, pleas-
antly : —

" So 3'ou are come back ! I am glad of that. Been
sick all this time?"

" Yes, sir," answered Louis, timidly.

" We 've had a boy here while you were gone ; but
you '11 be on hand now, I suppose ? " ■

" After to-da\% sir, I think I could," said Louis ; " but
I am not so strong yet as I used to be."

" O, never mrnd ; we can favor you a little and you '11
soon come right."

Tom liad never before heard Mr. Saunders speak
so cordially, though ho was sometimes very defer-
ential and polite to Mr. Cobden. He wondered what
made the difference between himself and Louis, and
why Mr. Saunders so disliked him and so favored
Louis.

182 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

''Thank 3'ou, sir," Louis said. "Shall I come to-
morrow ? "

" Yes ; come earlj', and have everything extra neat
and tidy, or the old gentleman may not be glad to see
you." And with a laugh Mr. Saunders tiu'ned to his
books.

Louis looked longing]}'- at Tom, and lingered.
"Please, sir, will Tom stay too?" he asked, loth to
take his own good-fortune at Tom's cost.

" Tom ? " said Mr. Saunders. " No ; his time will be
out when you come back. He only came while you were
away."

" TThat 's that ? What's that?" cried a testy voice.

Mr. Saunders turned suddenly. Old Mr. Cobden
stood in the doorway, heated, panting, and excited, with
a very red face and a very purple nose.

"What's that about Tom? I like Tom. He stays
here. Who's this? Louis LeGrange? Where have
3'ou been all this time? Why don't you stick to busi-
ness if you undertake it?" And the old gentleman
stopped, quite out of breath, and taking off his broad-
brimmed summer hat, wiped his streaming forehead
with a large, white silk handkerchief.

Louis was evidently very much afraid of old Mr.
Cobden. lie shrank from the brusque, explosive talk
that Tom overlooked and forgot in the real kind-hearted-
ness that lay behind it. He cast down his eyes, and
spoke scarcely above a whisper, as he replied, —

LOUIS LEGEANGB. 183

" I hare been sick, sir."

" Look as if j'ou were now," was the rather unsym-
pathetic rejoinder. " I 'm sorry for you, lad, but Tom
is here now, and he has done well, worked stiddy and
faithful, not off and on as you were, and Tom stays.
You mast look out for some other place, and take care
to fill it better when you get it."

Mr. Cobden pas&ed on into the office parlor. Louis
dropped his fa^e ia hh hands, and the tears would come.
He was weak, rxncT had borne his disappointment bravely,
but the harsh Wi'-ds, so undeserved, were more than he
could endure. The tears gi-ew to sobs, and he sank
back in the f hair he had quitted when Mr. Cobden
addressed Irm.

Eveiy one was silent. The scratching of the clerks*
pens was plainly audible. Tom stood with pitying face
turned to Louis. He longed to go and comfort him,
and would have done so l^d he not been seated so near
Mr. Saunders. An intense mutual antipathy seemed
growing between these two. Mr. Saunders sat like a
statue for a few minutes ; then taking out his pocket-
book, he extracted therefrom a ten-dollar bill, and
crumpling it in his hand, returned the book to his
pocket.

" Here, Louis, I 'm sorry. Take this to last till j-ou
get a new place, and send to me for a character if you
like," he said, quietly, as he tucked the bill into Louis's

184 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

hand. Then he returned to his work, and did not again
look up.

Louis gazed in surprise at the money, and profusely
thanked him. Tom thought it was a large amount ;
Mr. Saunders was certainly a generous, kind-hearted
man.

" Good-b}', Louis," Tom said, following him out at
the door. " I 'in glad Mr. Saunders gave you that, and
I wish 3'ou had j'our place again, I 'in sure, since j'ou
suit him so much better than I can. I hope you will
soon find another as good. It will be a great help to
you to be able to refer to him."

" Yes, and the money is so welcome ; for mother is
almost at her last dollar, and Uncle Victor is come and
is very sick. I don't know what 1 shall do, if I cannot
soon get work."

" Come and tell me, when you do," said Tom.

" If I can. But why not^ome and sec me some
time? I shall be so glad to see you, and especially if I
don't get work, and am feeling sad and discouraged."

"So I will," Tom answered, heartily.

Louis told him where he lived, and the two lx)ys
parted kindly at the door of the building, just as Mr.
Waters made his rather tardy appearance for the day .

Louis walked slowly and feebl}' homeward. lie felt
too weak to hasten, nor did the .news he brought have
any tendency to quicken his pace. He remembered

LOUIS I.EGRANGE. 185

that his sickness had ah'eady diminished his mother's
slender resources. He had been so longing for the time
when he should be able to go to work again ! He feared
his mother often worked late at night. He thought she
looked worn and Avcar3^ her step had less of its ac-
customed spring, her talk less of sparkle and merri-
ment. Mother is getting tired, he thought, as h3
noted the forced cheerfulness after he had told her his
story.

It was long ere he found work.

The pretty embroidery got less and less attention for
the next week after the arrival of Louis's uncle. And
in the moments when there was opportunity for it, the
tiny care-wrinkles came more tliickly in the smooth
forehead of the little hostees. Where she had looked
for aid, for strength, and counsel, she found none ;
but only a care she hardly dared assume, and an a Ided
burden of lalDor and expense for her already worn
frame and almost exhausted purpe. The light burned
late each night in Mrs. LeGrange's parlor, and the nim-
ble little needle flew fast under its flickering rays.
Early as the summer's early sunrise, too, was that busy
bit of bright steel at work. Still she tried bravely to
keep cheerful. AVhen her own money and the ten dollars
from Mr. Saunders was all gone, she knew not what to
do. But as her blithe needle flew and her busy thoughts
Icept time to it, she remembered the sick man's pocket-

186 THE CHILDKEN OF AMITY COUBX.

book, which fell upon the floor one day as she was about
to hang up his coat in the wardrobe.

" Victor," she said, timidly, but cheerily still, " my
money is all gone. Have 3'ou any ? "

From beneath his pillow he drew out the pocket-book,
and handed it to her, saj'ing, faintly, " There 's plenty."

It looked plenty certainly, but the bills seemed all
small ones. She took ten dollars, and thankfully re-
turned the book.

" When that '3 gone, come again,"' he said, in the same
husk}'^, unnatural voice of fever and pain.

But as the weeks rolled by, Victor LeGrange began
to mend. Slowly the wasting of disease gave place to
return of blooming health. And the small bills were
not quite all abstracted from the pocket-book he so
freely ofTercd for the family use. So the roses began
also to return to the bright face of Mrs. LeGrange.
Her guest could sit up, and tell her pleasant tales of
his travels, and his hopes for the new life in America.

" Was it the failure that decided you to come here?"
she asked, one day.

"What failure?"

Mrs. LeGrange took from her work-basket a tiny
scrap she had cut from the paper, that annottnced the
failure of the business iu which she well knew all
his property had been placed.

" O, no," he answered, carelessly ; " but I had luck

LOUIS LEGRANGE. 187

there. I had withdrawn iu order to come here, only
one week before the failure."

"And 3'ou lost nothing?" exclaimed the little
woman, color coming and going brightly in her cheeks,
and tears welling into her ej'es.

" I lost nothing," he answered. Then, seeing her
silence and emotion, he added, "' Did you think I had
come here a ruined man ? "

"I thought — I did think 3'ou were poor, Victor,
and 1 so hated to be using your money ; but I could
not earn enough myself, and 1 could not let you suffer
while you had plenty to provide for yourself."

" You took little enough, I am sure," replied Victor
LeGrange. " Some time we must make a truer settle-
ment."'

So it happened that Louis LeGrange needed no more
to look for a place. His uncle was already engaged
with a large importing house, and Louis, under his
direction, was soon emploj'ed by the same firm. It was
easy work, too, compared with that for Cobden & Co.
Victor LeGrange took a quiet house in a pleasanter
part of the city, and Mrs. LeGrange made it a very
snug and prett}- little home. So it was that when Tom
Canton went to see Louis he could not find him ; and
Louis's surprise, delight, and excitement at the new and
happy turn affairs had taken for him, were so great,
that it was man}' weeks before he thought to go and
see Tom.

188 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

CHAPTER XV.

BEING A GIRL.

BESS still sold papers. At first she did not much
mind the change of work, rather liked being out-
of-doors, seeing so many people, speaking with this
and that customer, thougli it was only a word about
the paper. But almost every one asked her some
question if only to hear her speak. Sometimes it
was "What papers?" sometimes "Which edition?"
or "What's new to-night?" and Bess answered al-
ways with simple politeness, and a clear voice, whose
cheery tones reassured herself and pleased every
one. Still, Tom was no more satisfied with her
worlv than at first. Tie would, any time, have hailed
the opportunit}' for some more quiet emploj'ment, but
the diiFiculty was to find any which she could attempt,
and still remain with her brothers. For some time the
care of Harry kept her at home many hours of the day,
Ned supplying her with papers or taking off her hands
what remained unsold when she needed to return to

BEING A GIRL. 189

liim. But when Harry's sweet face was forever gone
from the pillows of the cot-bed in the long, low attic,
and notliing necessitated going home from morning to
night, the arrangements of the Canton children Avere
changed. They no longer came together for the noon-
time. A bun or a doughnut- bought and eaten in the
street formed their lunch, and sufficed them till night.
Although the landlord had kindly befriended them by
attending to the last sad duties for little Harr}'', and
even defraj-ed the chief expenses, yet they found that,
notwithstanding the flourishing condition of the news-
paper trade, and the large force of their number!
therein em[)loyed, the gains were hardly equal to their
expectations. Ned still made good receipts each day.
Nora and Jemmj' brought in about half as much ; but
poor Bess found her little sum of daily earnings rather
diminished than increased as she continued her work.
She had hoped for a steady waxing of her profits, but
they seemed on a steady wane instead. She did not
dare tell Tom. She wondered wherein \a.y the cause.
Even Nora and Jemmy did better than she. To add to
her discomfort, she became also aware of a growing
dislike — even disgust — for the occupation. "Was it
that her class of customers was changing, or was it
onl}^ that she was growing to dislike them? r»ut
it seemed to poor, discouraged, heart-sick Bess, that
the men who bou2;ht of her were very coarse and

190 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

repulsive. Or was it only that she hated selling papers
because she made no better success at it? She cast
about in her mind for something else to do. It wa?
evident she did not earn her own share of the family
expenses. Something more and better she must do
She longed to ask Tom's advice and aid ; but she knew
he was not a genius at de\'ising and pointing out new
ways, and besides, a sense of shame in confessing that
she had begun to believe he was right, and selling
papers was very unpleasant work for a girl, deterred
her from confiding in him.

Ned, springing in and out of horse^iars and omni'
buses, jumping hither and yon, wherever there seemed
chance of a customer, alert, active, quick-witted, — Ned
the newsboy could sell in a day almost twice as many
papers as the other three. Nora was more aided by hei
tender years, and Jemmy's presence and enterprise-
than she knew. These two went always in company
and together managed to do a very tolerable day's work
But Bess had always to set out alone. Ned was out
of the question as a companion ; and she knew that
to accompany Nora would be onlj' to take trade out
of her hands, and would really be no gain to the
general good. So Bess wandered away rather aim-
lesslj\ She wanted to find some quiet streets like
those where Nora sold in the mornings. But Nora
had found all but two in that part of the city ; and in

BEING A GIRL. 191

those two was posted a child, — a mere bit, scarce
six 3'ears old, — who was supplied with the news,
and attempting to sell. Bess felt herself too large a
girl to enter into competition, and relinquished the
field. If she sought any of the busy corners, a crowd
of boys in the same avocation was sure to be there
congregated. True, Ned had pre-empted a claim for
her, as for Nora, on one block of the avenue ; but no
one could live on that alone. Indeed, Bess found
herself at great disadvantage with both Ned and
Nora. She could not emulate Ned's activity and
impudence. Nor j^et did her almost full-grown appear-
ance awake the kindly interest that so generally
greeted Nora. The very newsboys, who would give
way to such a little girl as Nora, were inclined to
push their own claims, quite indifferent to Bess and
her success. Failures did not stimulate, the}' dis-
couraged Bess. As day by day she sadly counted
up and acknowledged to Ned her petty cash, not onlj'
did her face become grieved and troubled, but her
heart sank with a terrible self-depreciation and mor-
tification. It was just as Tom had said, " Girls
couldn't sell papers."

The little that Bess earned was better than nothing ;
so she still Aveut out daily. She hated the bus}', bus-
tling streets, she hated the glare of the hot sunshine,
the restless tread of the endless crowd, the stare of

192 THE CUILDREV OF AMITY COCRT.

strange 03-03, the sound of strange voices. She started
out each morning with a shrinking dread ; she lingered
all day and offere 1 her news with a hopeless anticipa-
tion of refusal, and the little pain-<lroop in the corners
of her month deepened as the day wore on ; till at last
the duslc of evening released her, and she hastened
homeward with a sense of relief and a heart lighter
for the moment than since she woke at early day-break.
Such days could not continue. Whether Bess would
have set out with equal vigor to make some change,
had her work proved as profitable as she expected, is
perhaps doubtful. She might have endured the pain
for the sake of the aid she could bring to her brothers.
But as things were, there was no possible motive to con-
tinue, save only till other employment could be found.

It was a sultrj', though cloudy forenoon. Bess stootl
in her usual j^lace on the avenue ; her hat had fallen
back upon her shoulders, her papers la\' unsold in the
folio under her arm, her face was growing to its loo
common expression of hopeless disappointment and
pain. Ned ran to her from some blocks above, and
claimed more than half her bundle.

'• Give them to me. I can sell them. There 's a
rush, up at the hotel ; people coming b}' the coachful
and the papers go like lightning." • And off ran Ned,
leaving Bess lighter at heart, as also in the package
under her arm.

BEING A GIKL. 193

Then her own papers began to go more readily, as
if her brightened face made better sales. Only two
or three remained. She counted them with a pleased
smile, thinking " when these are gone I'll go home till
it is time for afternoon editions." And looking up she
found another customer at her side offering the pennies
in one hand, while he tried to draw out a paper with
the other. IJess glanced up with surprised delight,
saying to liorself " only two more."

The man noticed her smile ; and, flattering himself
that it was somewhat of a personal compliment, lin-
gered a moment, saying, —

" You are nearly sold out."

" Yes," Bess replied, checking the words " I am so
glad," that were ready to follow.

She did not like the man's face. It was fat and
coarse and disagreeable. Sometimes it seemed to Bess
that everybody looked just so, there was such a predom-
inance of sucti faces in the city.

" You do a pretty good business?"

Bess opened her mouth to explain ; but i-emcmbering
that the disposal of her papers to Ned would make too
long a story, said nothing.

" Like it? " continued the man, folding up the paper
very small to put it in his breast-pocket.

" Not much."

"Sorry!" he returned, with a lazy laugh. "I'll

13

194 THE CHILDREN OF AMITT COURT.

come round and buy of you to-morrow." And suddenly
chucking liess under the chin, with the added words
"little girl" to excuse the familiarity, and another
laugh, he turned away.

Bess stood straight and still, and her dark eyes shot
some Aery angry glances, and then slowly filled with
tears. She took out her handkerchief to stop them,
but used it to rub her insulted little chin instead.

" I will go home," she thought Indeed, she could
scarcely keep from crying then and there.

" Papers ? " asked a voice ; and looking up, Bess saw
a round, red face indeed, but, though not lacking flesh,
it was a Aery different one from the other. A rim of
white hair was just inside the brim of the broad, low-
crowned hat, and a gold-headed cane was sticking out
pompously from under his arm.

Bess dashed away her tears, and drew out another
paper.

" What is the matter with j'ou, my dear ? " asked the
old gentleman, so kindly that Bess longed to tell him
all her troubles.

" O, I wish I could find something to do besides scll-
i:jg papers ! " she exclaimed, passionately.

" Do j'ou? "Well, to be sure, to be sure," he added,
sudden!}', remembering that hers might not be either a
pleasant or an easy life, especially if, as seemed likely,
she had known something better.

BEING A GIRL. 193

Standing a moment, looking at her thoughtfully, he
seemed at last to come to a conclusion of his cogita-
tions satisfactoiy to himself.

"Come with mc ! . I 'in going down town. I'll see
what can be found for you. I 'II see ; no harm in try-
ing. You 're willing to work, I hope?"

" O, yes," answered Bess, eagerl}'.

Then the old gentleman called an omnibus, put Bess
in, and entered after her. Bess could not tell what
made her so light-hearted. She liked the old gentleman,
he had such a kind, earnest face, and spoke so cheerily ;
and she felt quite sure he was going to do something
veiy kind for her, though her wildest imaginations failed
to suggest what, further than that it was work of some
kind, doubtless pleasanter than selling papers, and prob-
ably quite ns remunerative. It could not well be less
of either.

When the old gentleman got out, Bess followed, arid
he led her in at the door of a large warehouse, and
stopped before the desk of a small, dark, nervous little
man.

" Is n't there room for a new hand in the raaking-up
room ? " asked the old gentleman.

"• I don't know, sir. Sands, the foreman, can tell
you."

To Sands, the foreman, the old gentleman went, with
Bess in a state of breathless wonder. It was a large

196 THE CHILDREN OK AMITY COURT.

carpet warehouse through which they were passing.
ISIr. Sands spoke through a tube, and soon a young
woman appeared.

" Here is a new hand at making up," said Mr. Sands.
'• Put her on that small, cheap hall-carpet that is or-
dered for to-morrow."

The 3'oung woman bowed, and turned to lead Bess
away.

" She 'II liave fifty cents a day for the first week,"
said the old gentleman, " paid each night. Afterwards,
increase as she improves. You are on trial, remember,
— on trial. If you do well, j'ou '11 have a good place."

So Bess knew the old gentleman belonged to the es-
tablishment, and she would be likely to see him again.
She was glad of that. She felt as if he would take care
of her, and keep her out of all future trouble.

In the sewing-room she found some twenty j'oung
women and girls at work. Two men were measuring
and cutting carpets at one end of the room, which was
large, low, and very hot. The woman who had led her
up manj' stairs to this room, asked her if she could sew
well, to which Hess was very glad to reply in the aflu"-
mative. She was then placed on a low chair, beside a
small and, Bess thought, very ugl}' carpet, and instructed
how to sew together the parts that formed a most
curious figure, and was supposed to represent the floor-
area of a hall in a gothic cottage.

BKIXG A GIRL. 197

Bess came home wlicn the day's work ended, in gay-
est spirits. She had not been so happy since their
mother was witli them. As she tripped lightly along,
her eyes full of happy light, and the hateful old folio,
• with its one remaining paper, rolled up under her arm,
Tom ovcrtoolv her. She could not wait, and hastened
to tell him her good fortune. Tom was glad with her,
though a little puzzled at her delight.

" Fifty cents a day is not such a princely sum," he
ventured to remark, when they were at home, and Bess
was setting out a supper of the bread and milk they
had l)ought.

" No, but it is as much as I have been earning, and
it is to be increased."

" 1 'm afraid sewing carpets is hard work."

" Of course it is ! " replied Bess, with a cheery laugh,
straightening her tired back.

" And not nearly so pleasant as selling papers."

" O, Tom ! anything is better than that."

" What made you do it, then ? "

" For money, of course."

" But T thouglit you liked it."

" Why, Tom, how could you?"

'•If you didn't like it, what made you insist upon
doing it? "

" Because I could find nothing else to do, and we
must have money."

193 THE Cnir.DREN OF AMITY COURT.

" TTc conlfl have got along ; I would never have let
you, if I bad known."

" Then you should have found something better for
me to do."

" But if I could n't ? "

" I know. That 's why I had to sell papers. It is
easy to find fault, but not alwa3's so easy to suggest
improvements. And you know I must do somelhing."

" And you really did n't want to do it?"

" Probably I hated it as badly as you could for me,
after I came to know what noisy, unpleasant work it
was. I certainly did n't need your telling me I ' was a
girl ' to make mo gladly choose something more fit for
a girl, if I could have found any such."

" Bess, I '11 never tell you yon are a girl again, as
long as I live ! " said Torn, putting his arms round her
neck with a sudden hug, and a suspicious mistiness in
his eyes.

" You need n't," Bess answered, gravel}^ " for I 've
found it out for myself," with a mortifying recollection
of her disagreeable morning customer, whom she had
omitted to mention.

Then thrusting the water-pitcher into Tom's hands,
she cried, —

" There, run for some water ! I hear Ned and the
children coming up-stairs."

MR. Saunders's opeeiations. 199

CHAPTER XVI.

MR. SAUNDERS S OPERATIONS.

TOM and Bess walked down together to their work
next day. Their ways seemed to coincide re-
markably. When Toui stopped at the door of Cobden
& Co.'s warehouse, Bess exclaimed, —

" Now, 1 've only to run round to that narrow alley,
and go in at a back door."

Tom looked astonished. " Show me," he said, mov-
ing on in the direction indicated. They turned the
corner, and stopped at a side door that was used by all
the carpet girls last night, and that Bes3 knew was to
be open at seven [ov their return in the morning.

" VViiy, Bess, you are at work for Cobden & Co.,
too. It must have been Mr. Cobden who brought you
here."

Bess laughed out merril}', and Tom's face shone with
delight at the discovery.

" Is n't it nice?" she said.

"Tlie very jolliest thing in the world; we'll lunch
together," was Tom's practical reply.

200 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COUKT.

Tom went back to the front door, which he opened
with his key, and was soon very busy about his usual
worli. It seemed as if the very knowledge that Bess
was in the building made the day shorter and work
easier to him. At noon he took the lunch he had pro-
vided for himself, and went up into the '' making-up
room " to eat it with her. It was verj' pleasant for bot'i
of them. Bess told him at night that she thought the
foreman was more kindly to her. and the woman Avho
acted as overseer and director did not harry her so
much, after she knew she was Tom's sister. And Tom
was sure that ol 1 Mr. Cobden was quite delighted on
learning that he was a brother of tho girl he had sent
to work in the "making-up room'" yesterday. The
brother and sister seemed so happy in the slight com-
panionship their work allowed, that every one grew to
like them, as if reflecting the affection the}^ felt for
each other. Even ^Ir. Saunders was slowly receiving
Tom into his favor, and treated him with far more
kiudiiness than formerly.

But Mr. Saunders was often anxious and abstracted
now. His first successful venture brought the effort
for another, and care and trouble accompanied.

" When will the next shipment arrive?" asked Mr.
Waters one day, suddenly, of Mr. Saunders.

The junior partner started. '-Not just at present,"
ho answered, with embarrassment. " It is due,. I know,
but accidents may delay it."

ME. SAUXDERS'S OPEKATIONS. 201

" You know all about it, I '11 warrant," put in old
Mr. Cobden. " Shrewd man, you are, Saunders. Let
us hope there will be no accidents. It would be
remarkably convenient if it were here now. One of our
old customers is on from California, and we might sell
him a fine bill of goods if those new styles were only
in. But he won't return under a da^^ or two longer, and
they may come."

Mr. Saunders pricked his ears with a peculiarly keen
attention at this piece of news. But he said nothing,
till ]Mr. Cobden was about leaving in the afternoon.

" I may not be in as early as usual to-mori'ow morn-
ing. I thought I 'd speak of it that you need not be
wondering."

" O, ver}' well, very well; very good of you to
mention it."

" Next morning Mr. Saunders was verj' late. After
what he had said, no one would have been surprised,
were it not for what happened before he came. It was
about eleven ; Mr. Cobden and Mr. Waters were seated
at their deslcs. The office parlor was quiet as a country
meadow, which was nothing unusual, when no callers
were present. A Icnock at the door was quicklj'^ fol-
lowed by the entrance of a thin, shabbily-dressed man,
who proceeded at once to the deslc of the elder gentle-
man.

" Mr. Cobden, I presume ? " he said.

202 THE CIIILDKEX OF AMITT COURT.

Mr. Cobden nodded.

" Member of the firm?" wns the next question, with
^ backward wave towards Mr. "Waters.

The old gentleman nodded again, and began to
assume an expression of inquiry.

' • Then I will proceed at ouce to business. You are
aware that smuggling is considered contrary to law
in almost an}- country. So I am here to tell you that,
confiscation being the penalty on such goods, your last
cargo of carpets that was landed last ni^ht from the
steamer '• Tom Thumb," out on the Connecticut coast,
will not reach 3'ou. The whole amount was secured after
it was loaded into wagons fi:)r transportation to 3'ou."

" It is an outrageous lie ! " thundered Mr. Cobden.
" There has never been a stroke or a thought of smug-
gling in -tins firm ! "

" Were n't you expecting a cargo at this time?"

" Not a smuggled cargo ! "

The custom-house officer looked puzzled and discom-
fited. He produced from his breast-pocket a wide, flat
leather case of papers, and, taking out the first one,
handed it to Mr. Cobden.

" Will you take oath that that is not the bill of lad-
ing of j-our cargo?"

"I'll take oath that anything is not that is smug-
gled," he replied, without looking at the offered paper.

Mr, Waters rose, and came behind the officer's chair.

MR. Saunders's operations. 203

" Hadn't 3'ou better look at the paper?" he suggested
to his uncle.

" No ! I won't look at anj'thing that 's brouglit here
to prove against mo a thing I never did — never thought
of doing. It 's all an outrageous lie ! "

But over the stranger's shoulder Mr. Waters cauglit
a glimpse of familiar items, which he himself had
stiiJulaled should be in Mr. Saunders's next order for
shipment.

" Let us hoar your story,'" said Mr. Waters, more
civilly. " My uncle is justly indignant, for certainly
unlawful trade is not the intention of this firm ; but
whether his indignation is rightly directed upon you
remians to be proved."

Mr. Cobden fidgeted in his chair, and turned his
back half round upon the two, at tiiis conciliatory
spe^^ch. But he listened and did not interpose.

" I have told my story once already," said the
stranger, rather testily. " The little steamer ' Tom
Thumb ' last night landed a small cargo in a lonely spot
on the Connecticut sliore. The goods were brought in
boats, and put aboard wagons which were directed to

unload at store-rooms. No. 14 Soutli L Street. The

same man who superintended the landing, returned to
the city by rail, and is to be on hand to see to the stor-
ing '.icre. Having these items sent on bj' telegraph, it
was <iasy to ascertain that the designated rooms belong'

204 TUE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

to the firm of Cobden & Co. We have waited only for
the arrival of our detective with this bill of goods.
The teams are on the road, but will reach a different
destination from your elegant warehouse. Sorry, gen-
tlemen," he said, smiling serenely, " but it is our
unpleasant duty to interfere with all these little ope-
rations in contraband goods."

Mr. Cobden, irritated past endurance by this last
tantalizing speech, rose Jiastil}', and with angry glare at
the suave gentleman, began pacing furiously up and
down the room, stamping his stout cane heavily at every
step. Mr "Waters remained cool and immovable.

" It may be, as 3^011 say, that a cargo of goods for
the firm was unlawfully landed last night, but lue were
quite ignorant of the transaction, and should not have
suffered it had we known it."

" Of course," replied the gentlemanly official, quickly.
" I was sure of that. Firms never do sanction such
transactions. I never knew one in all my experience —
which has been quite large — I never knew owe that was
not utterlj-- igi;orant of all such transactions, and bitterly
opposed to them from the first. O, I knew you would
not uphold the act, but yet as it happens, singularly
enough, that you are so intimately associated in the
operation that you will be sure to be the parties who
lose by it, I came in to tell you what had become of
your goods."

MR. SAUNDEKS'S OPERATIONS. 205

Even this did not move Mr. Waters. Mr. Cobden
stayed his angry footseps behind the stranger's chair
and half lifted his cane ; but he softly put it down again
and walked as before. Mr. Waters continued, —

" We have intrusted some of our buying to our con-
fidential head clerk It seems we have been more
confidential than he has, for he has never fully explained
to us how it was that he could procure goods at remark-
ably low rates."

'■ Then this has been going on for some timo? " sud-
denly fl.ished forth the sharp official.

Mr. Waters' lilack e^'es sparkled, and he remained
silent, an ominous token with him.

Mr. Cobden planted himself squarely before the
stranger.

" Now, sir, I presume your business is about finished
here."

" Ver}' nearly, sir. I would like a reply as to how
manj'^ such cargoes j'ou have received."

" We don't know ; and, if we did, you can't com-
pel any man to testify against himself. We wish you
good-daj-, sir."

The gentleman rose, foeling that exit was growing
momentarily more desirable, if not necessary, and, with
a bow, retired.

Mr. Cobden threw himself into his chair, and breathed
hard. Mr. Waters withdrew to his own place, and

20G tiif: ciiild::ex of amity court.

both sat silent for moro than an hour. At last Mr.
Cobden raised his head suddenly.

" Will Saunders come back?" he asked.

" Wh}' not?" returned Mr. AVaters.

And again silence reigned for an hour, at which time
Mr. Saunders himself entered. It had been the bitter-
est day of all his life. There was nothing he valued
more tlian the honorable position ha had hel 1 for a j'eur
past in the firm of Cob len & Co.

It was in a weak moment that the opportunity of
smuggling in some goods had been presented to him,
and, dazzled with the wealth it promised, and perhaps
also a liltle with the danger, he had undertaken to carry
out the suggestion and cheat the government, though
he was far too honest to have done the same with an
individual. " Our country," beyond the mere land of
it, sometimes comes to represent something mythical ;
and pur government a fabrication that should ever pro-
tect and aid its citizens, claiming nothing of them in
return.

Mr. Saunder^ believed that though the goods were
lost, there was no possibility of an exposure of the firm
to the opprobrium of the transaction. The bales bore
no name. lie was glad of this, and ready to take the
whole blame of the matter, but to bear the whole loss
was a harder thing to do. Coming in, he sat down
before Mr. Cobden, and told his story. Doing so, the

MR. Saunders's operatioks. 207

full meanness, of the operation seemed to appear to him,
for the first time, as he was obliged t) see it tlirough the
e^'es of other men. Sometimes such a view makes a
bitter diiference in the appearance of one's o^m con-
duct. The angir had already died in old ]Mr. Cobden's
heart ; it had bubbled over and spent itself, and now he
felt onlj' p'ty for the j'oungman, who, in a time of temp'
tation, liad failed. Not so Mr. Waters. His indignation
had been bottled in silence, and was as incorrigible as
in its first nascent strength. It was a startling sur-
prise to INIr. Saunders, when he had finished his recital
and expressed his contrition, to be answered by the
stinging tones of Mr. Waters, —

" "We have heard these business items once this morn-
ing, from the custom-house officer. We did not know
your personal sentiments. It is gratifying that j'ou do
not intend to continue in these smuggling operations,
though it probably would not in future so much affect
us, as heretofore."

" There, there ! Dick," cried old Mr. Cobden, " don't
go on in that waj'. There 's the very devil in j'ou whe»
j'ou are mad."

"But he said the "custom-house officer'!" stam'
mered Mr. Saunders.

" Yes, he has been here to notify lis of tlie facts,"
returned Mr. Cobden, with mild regret and true kind"
ness.

203 THE CHILDREN OF AMJTY CODRT.

" Then I will iit least set you right there," said Mr.
Saunders, and he hastily left the parlor. It was a
relief to him to escape for a while from the crushing
influence of Mr. Waters' presence, and he wanted to
think how he could further repair the wrong he had
done his employers. But it is not an easy matter to
right a wrong that falls only on character. "When ouce
the idea had gained ground in the minds of custom-
house officers that Cobden & Co. had been engaged in
smuggling, it was next to impossible to eradicate it.
After long argument and free confession that he him-
self had alone been concerned in the shameful matter
which the firm had never known or suspected, he was
still obliged to return feeling that he had not yet suc-
ceeded in restoring his employers to the honorable
consideration they had always held. He felt that the
consequences of his greedy effort for gain were far
more wide and lasting than hs had ever dreamed they
could be ; and, worse yet, they fell not where they hon-
estl}^ belonged, on himself, but oa those who had been
his Idndest friends

When he again entered the oSBce-parlor, Mr. Waters
had been called awaj'. This was a great relief. He
could talk fixr more easily with Mr. Cobden alone, for
he knew the old gentleman felt kindly towards him spite
of his evil-doing. No one could be more severe and
fretful for small delinquencies than old Mr. Cobden;

MR. SAUNDEUS'S OPERATIONS. 209

bnt he carried, under all his sharpness, a charitable
heart, and in a real emergency was unexpectedly
generous.

" I am at your service, sir," Mr. Saunders said,
standing before him, hat in hand, with even more peni-
tence than he had felt before. " I have been to the
custom-house and set you right there, as far as telling
the truth could do so. If you would like to go over the
books with me I will run over them, and leave them so
they can be readily understood by whoever takes them."

Mr. Cobden put on his gold-bowed glasses, and stared
hard into Mr. Saunders's face.

"What now?" he asked, slowly. "Aren't your
books right?"

" I believe so," was the modest reply.

" I believe so, too," returned the old gentleman.
" I believe, too, that you moan to keep them so.
Don't disappoint me; that's all."

Mr. Saunders stood irresolute. Then he answered
slowly, " I do mean to keep them so. Sometime before
I die, I hope to pay back all the loss I have caused
you, but it will take years to do that ; and of course
you do not want to retain me in your employ. It
would be too much like countenancing what I have
done."

*' Nonsense ! " cried the old man, eagerly, " You
will stay in your old place, do your old work, and be
H

210 THE ciiili>ri:n op amity court.

the l)est man we have in the building yet. Don't let
me hear a word about leaving. You know we could n't
supply 3-our place uniler three years' instruction of
some other man. Let this matter be a lesson to jou,
and then we shall want no better man than 3'ou. There,
go ! " And he turned about in his chair, presenting
onl}' his broad, round shoulders.

But Mr. Saunders Ihigered. Such generosity was
more utterl}' crushing than Mr. "Waters' anger, or any
amount of upbraiding. Anger, reproaches, he had
merited ; but to be reminded of his value to the firm,
and retained in his old place just as before, was a new
kind of punishment. His hands trembled, and could
hardl}- retain their hold of the summer straw hat.
Under his yellow beard his lips twitched aud quivered,
and great tears came slowly creeping into his aston-
ished eyes.

" You are too kind," he murmured, " and Mr.
"Waters — may not — "

" ]\Ir. "Waters always agrees with what I judgebpst,"
returned Mr. Cobden, with sudden loftiness. "It is
all riglit ; now go."

Mr. Saunders seized the little round red hand of the
old gentleman, and gave it one hearty wring that told
more than many words, saying, —

" You shall never repent it, neither you nor Mr.
Waters."

MR. SAUXDERS'S OrEUATIONS. 211

Then ho went into the outer office, and took Ms place
at his desk. Before that day was ended, Tom Canton
felt tho change in IMr. Saunders's voice and manner.
All the old arbitrary waj's left him. He was busy as
ever, but more kindl}'. He set about saving up from his
ger.crous salary the requisite sum to repay to the firm
the loss he had occasioned it. Ten years afterwards the
payment was made, but old Mr. Cobden was not then
living to receive it ; and in all those years the firm did
not find in its emplo3'^ment a more faithful, devoted, and
withal kindly man, than Mr. Saunders.

212 TUE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

CHAPTER XVII.

A RECOGNITIOX.

"TTOW nice Jemmy looks in his new suit," Nora

-*--^ said to Bess, as they were preparing for their
early morning exodus.

" Yes," said Bess, " he looks as nice as when he first
came here."

" That was so long ago," Jemmy remarked, with
his chin at an unnatural elevation, giving his voice a
choking sound, for Nora was buttoning his jacket at
the neck.

" How long is it?" asked Nora.

" Six weeks," said Tom.

" And don't we earn enough?" asked Nora.

" O, yes," said Bess, cheerily.

''^ We manage to get along, with the new work Bess
and I have now, and Mr. Salsby's letting us put off
l)a3'ing the rent till next month," said Tom, more anx-
iousl}'. " But it is going to be hard work to have the
two months' rent ready, when next month comes."

A UF.COGNITION. 213

" We shall manage it," Bess said, hopefully ; and Tom
half smiled at her certainty about it. '• I must get
Biddy Crowley to wash your dress next, Nora," Bess
continued ; " .lemmy's looks so nice."

" Yes, do," said Jemmy.

Tom looked grave, but said nothing ; washing seemed
to him so expensive.

" I wish 30U had a clean dress, too," Jemmy said,
as they walked along to meet Ned. " Then mamma
would know 3'ou ; but you never looked like that when
she took care of us "

" I should know her," said Nora. But the thought
grieved her notwithstanding. She felt ashamed of her
soiled and tumbled little dress, and remembered, with a
sad heaviness of heart, how fi'esh and nice it had been
when she first put it on, to go to New York, the morn-
ing that she left Campfields. It seemed a year ago,
instead of six weeks. Was her mother never coming to
find them ? And thinking such things, little Nora grew
so sad she could have cried. But she drove away the
sad thoughts, saying, —

" Come, Jemm}', let 's run a little way."

The run soon ended. It was too warm. Besides,
Nora put her hand to her head, and noticed, for the first
time, that there was a heavy pain in her temples. " It
will go awa}-, b}^ and by," she thought, and went about
her usual work. The day grew hotter and more sultry.

2-t THIi CrirLDIlS-^ OF AMtTY COUltT.

People did not seem to want tlie papers. It was hot
enou li for noon, long before noon came. The two
children were glarl to creep into a shady spot, and sit
down for their Inncheon. Nora smoothed down lior
dress with an air of disgust, and sighed.

" You must have it done to-night," announced Jem-
my, gravely ; for Biddy Crowley washed and ironed the
children's clothes at night, as they had but one suit
apiece. " It is ever so lon^5 since it was washed."

" It was clean for Harry's funeral," Nora said,
softlj'.

" Yes, so was mine." And then the sad reminiscence
left them in silence.

As the noon wore on, the sun's rays grew fainter and
disappeared. Soft breezes of cooler air now and then
stole through the cit^' streets. People began to look
anxiously upward as thc}^ hun-ied along. The cars and
omnibuses were crowded. The first, fresh breaths of
cooler air became cold gusts, and swept up the fine dust
of the streets into thick clouds. Men held on their
hats and buttoned their linen coats ; women c'asped
closer their flyin^ draperies, and bont their heads to
meet the blast. Nora and Jemmy crept away to a shel-
tered doorway, and waited very still and quiet. From
their covert they watched the more care-laden ones who
hid nice clothes to save, or a long way to go. But the
two children had no troubles. They were safe from th6

A RECOGNITION. 215

drench of the shower, and they enjoyed the fresh breath
of the clouds and the funny sights of the street.

By and by the rain came ; first, a few astonished
drops, pkimp on the dry, hot sidewallc ; then a gust
brought a flock of them ; then a lull, and another pat-
ter of great drops. Two or three times this farce was
enacted, and then down came the shower, pelting and
dashing, splashing against the pavements, and washing
down the spouts and gutters. 0, it was a delicious rain !
It was hard to keep Jemmy out of it ; it smelt so fresh
and felt so good, lie longed to stand outside and let it
rain on him. Even he was a martyr to good clothes.
Nora could not let him spoil the clean suit Biddy had
just washed for him. The washing had cost too
much.

At last the shower was over ; the sun came smiling
out upon the drenched city, that seemed to smile mer-
rily back from its glistening stones, rippling streams,
and shining roofs. The air was fresh and cool. People
came tripping daintily out of their temporary shelters ;
and Nora and Jemmy went back to their work of sell-
ing papers. Ned had brought the evening editions just
before the storm came But now nobody wanted them.
It grew very discouraging.

" Let's go somewhere else," stud Jemmy.

" I 'm sure I don t know where," Nora replied, with a
weary little sigh.

216 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

" Down to the station where the cars come in, is a
good place," Jemra}' suggested.

" "SYell," slowly acquiesced Nora.

It was very busy at the station. The rain made no
difference there Trains came and went all the same, and
plenty of people came and went in them. Nora found
many customers for the evening papers- Jemmy, too,
was ver}^ useful in making sales. He scampered all about
the dim, cavernous place, across the tracks and through
the outward bound trains, to Nora's constant anxiety.
Out on the surrounding porch stood groups of reunited
friends, or parties looking for carriages Innumerable
coaches were drawn up there. Private equipages of
all degrees of grandeur, and the various styles of city
vehicles for conveying passengers. In among them
Jemmy dodged, or up and down amid the waiting peo-
ple on the platform. It was just what he liked, and he
was having his fill. He was very successful. Every
one seemed willing to buy of the clean, bright, little
fellow. A gentleman at a carriage window beckoned.
Jemmy brought hira a paper, and, turning to go back by
a different route, he leaped across a dirtj' puddle, arms
extended, papers in one hand and pennies in the other.
But as he sprang, a treacherous stone gave way, his foot
slipped, and down came Jemmj' full length in the mud.

Jemmy was past his old habit of screaming. It had
disappeared since he had been received as partner in

A EECOGNITION. 217

the paper -trade with Nora. Perhaps he recognized the
incompatibility of the demonstration with the dignity
of his position ; perhaps the dignified position pre-
vented the desire to express his feelings in that wa}-,
or abolished the feelings. However it had come about,
certain it is that Jemmy no longer lifted up his voice
in bitter wailing on every adequate occasion. One
shout, as a sort of signal to Nora, and Jemmy began
picking himself out of the mud like a brave little fel-
low. Nora flew to his side, but could only gaze in
blank dismay at the sheeted blackness of the little
clean linen suit. It was too bad !

" "We must go straight home, Jemmy ! " she said,
sadly and gravel}'.

The gentleman in the carriage looked back, pityingly.
The carriage stopped again, unable to get out of the
press of other travel. Nora looked up at it, and stood
as if suddenly chilled to a statue. For there were two
faces at the windows, jind the other was that of a very
fair, sweet lady, with blue eyes full of kindness, and a
wealth of golden curls turned over a comb, peeping
from under the lace of her bonnet and veil.

Nora left Jemm}-, and walked up to the carriage side
as if a magnet drew her there.

"Please — do you know Miss Eva Roberts?" she
asked, for the lady's face seemed almost exactly like
the one she could just remember as that of the Miss

218 THE CIIILDUEN OF AMITY COURT.

Eva who had come to see her mother iu Campfields so
long ago.

" Tliere is n't any such person now," answered the
gentleman, quickly.

And Nora looked at him in surprise. But there was
a roguish twinkle in his eyes that seemed to be very
much amused at something.

" Wliat is it you waut?" asked the la^y, kindly. " I
am Eva Roberts."

" O ! " cried Nora, looking up in delight. But some-
how sobs would come, and burying her face in her hands,
she felt laughter and tears struggle for mastery of
her face.

" Open the door, Frank, and let me talk with her,"
said the lady.

And soon Nora was silting inside the coach, drying
her tears, and hushing her joyful sobs to be able to speak ;
while Jemmy stood by the door scraping off the mud,
to be fit to get into the carriage also. As he had fallen
on his face, he thought he might sit on the cushions
without injuring them.

" Now tell me what you wanted to see Eva Roberts
for," the lady asked, when the driver had been ordered
to wait.

" Because we 've lost our mother ; it 's ever so many
weeks now. We can't find her, and we thought per-
haps 3'ou could. She was wanting to see you."

A RECOGNITION. 219

" But who is your mother? What is your name? "

" Nora Craig, and that 's Jemmy."

" Nora Craig ! " cried the fair lady in delight ; and
before the astonislied Nora could winlv, Mrs. True had
taken her little brown chin in her gloved hand and
kissed her.

That brought the tears again.

"And 3^ou remember us? and 3'ou '11 help us find
mother ? " Nora said, brokenly, fighting bravely to keep
from crying, and let the smiles come without any quiv-
ers at her lips

" Certainly I will."

" Is n't it an omen of good luck, or something of that
sort, to bo met in this way by children, on the way to a
new home ? " asked the smiling gentleman, with more
seriousness in his pleasant eyes

" I don't know ; ])erhap3 so," replied the young wife,
with a happy look on her face, as she reached a hand
to help Jemmy in, and told him to sit beside Mr. True.
" It seems so to me ; I am so glad to see them ! You
must te'l mo all about it, where yon live, and how you
lost yoiu' mother, so we can find her."

" We live in Amity Coiu't," said Jemmy.

" Then we had better drive there first, and leave this
^oung man a-soak," laughed Frank True.

"0, dear! what ever shall I do with him? Don't
touch against the gentleman, Jemmy, or against the side

220 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

of the carriage," said Nora, wtth a care-worn air that
quite touched the motherly heart of our old friend Eva
Roberts.

As the}' rode, Nora explained how Jemmy's suit had
been washed and ironed last night, and she was hoping
to have hers clean to-morrow, — she had saved money
for it, — but now Jemmy's must be washed' again. And
Eva True told Nora she had just come from Chicago
with her husband, and was to live in New York. She
had been travelling a long time and could not stop to-
day to hear all her story, but she would come to-morrow,
at noon, after she had been home, and was rested, and
able to help them find their mother. She kissed both
the children at parting, and Frank True gave Nora a
dollar-bill, saying, —

" That will make both your little suits clean before
to-morrow, won't it ? "

" O, yes ! " cried Nora, joyfully.

Then they stood on the steps and watched the car-
riage drive away, and caught a last look at the sweet
face of their new friend, as it turned the corner. When
even the two trunks on the rack behind had disappeared,
and the rumble of the wheels was lost amid that of
myriad others, Nora and Jemmy turned and went up-
stairs .

KESTOKATION. 221

CHAPTER XVIII.

RESTORATION.

THERE were twelve little narrow cot-beds in one
room. The frames were all of iron, and painted
green. The coverlets were all white, and tucked snugly
in at the sides. In some of the beds la}' pale and
weary women, who seemed to enjo}^ the peace and quiet
of the place. On others, patients tired, though dressed,
were lying on the outside, being not yet able to sit up
all day. Other cots were smooth and neat as when first
spread up for the day. I>y one of these sat a pale,
thin woman with an anxious face. On the floor before
and around her lay man}- things that she was busily
putting into a Aalise. One or two garments were evi-
dently her own ; but then there were little night-gowns
and a clean light suit for a little boy. But no children
were to be seen at the hospital. Where were the own-
ers of those little garments she folded so tenderly away
in the great valise ? Alas ! that was the question that
had liaunted the half-crazed mind of the lonfrins mother

222 THE CHILDREN CP AMJTT COURT.

these many weeks. No sooner had the surgeon re-
placed the bones of her injured head, and conscious-
ness returned, than Hannah Craig's first painful breath
framed the question, —

'• Where are my children? "

!No one knew. Not one of those who nursed her
tcnderlj' all these weeks, could find the slightest clew of
the little ones that the poor woman pined for, in a help-
less agony, ever}' day. There was nothing but to get
well, and then go herself to seek for them. So Han-
nah set about getting well. She was a sturd}', healthy
woman, and the bones in her broken limbs soon knit
firmly together ; but the wounded head was a more
serious affair. Her anxiety did not help the matter,
and it was a long, slow piece of work for both doctor
and patient, before the fractured skull and tender
brain beneath were so healed that the kind phjsi.'ian
pronounced it safe for her to leave the hospital.

But the time had come at last ; and the few iK>sses-
sions that had been brought with her to the hospital,
Hannah eagerly put into the valise once more, and
prepared, with an anxious sort of joy, to go forth on
the search she so longed to begin, yet dreaded, lest
it fail. She was still weak. The carriage that before
she could not afford, must bo afforded now. She
drove to Jane Cook's, where she left her valise and
told her story, to the great wonder and kind sympathy

RESTORATION. 223

of her old friend. Then she went out on foot. First
the police-station was visited, but no such lost children
had been found and reported there. Then she went to
the street whet-e the accident had occurred. She walked
back and forth in an aimless way, and made some in-
quiries at one or two poor little stores near the spot
where she had lost them. But no one knew. How
should ail}' one remember for two whole months, if he
had known at the time ? The imusual exertion wearied
Hannah out of all proportion to the distance she
walked. The discouragement wearied her j-et more.
She must return to Jane's for this da_y, and try again
to-morrow. But how to try? She did not know what
moi'e she could do ; and it seemed very hopeless walk-
ing up and down these great busy city sti-eets, with their
hurrying, indifferent throngs, that seemed to have swept
away and swallowed up forcA'er her childrcii.

As she thought thus, walking feebly down the wide
sidewalk of the avenue, Hannah felt a dizzying faint-
ness come over her. She had eaten nothing since her
breakfast at the hospital and it was now far past noon.
She sat down in a doorstep till the faintness should
pass away. People stared at her as they passed.
She was too well-dressed and lady-like in appearance
to be sitting there. One woman asked if she was
sick.

" No ; only a little weak and faint. It will be gone

224 THE CUII.DKEX OF AMITY COURT.

in a moment,"' said Hannah. And witli a glance of
kindl}" sympathy the woman moved reluctantly on.

The policeman kept an eye on lier, as he paced back
and forth. The newsboys on the curbstone noticed her,
and a man in the store brought her a glass of water.
The water refreshed her, and she said, thankfully, —

" I shall be all right in a moment with that," as she
returned the glass.

Ned watched her from the farther side of the walk.
He was sorry for her ; and then, too, the face troubled
him, for it seemed as if he had somewhere seen it
before.

"See the paper, marm, while you rest?" he said,
thrusting a copy into her hand, more from a desire to
do something kindly for her, than because she was
likely to want it.

Hannah took it mechanically, with a faint " Thank
you." She held it, but did not tr}'^ to read it. The diz-
ziness crime back for a moment, and she rested her head
on her hand. As the blur passed away from hr ej'es,
and she found herself staring fixedly at the tightly-
clenched paper, a name seemed to form itself before
her bewildered sight. She rubbed her ej^es, and feared
she was again becoming delirious. Yet there it was,
her own name, printed in the paper. What could it
mean ? Slowly the surprise brought back her scattered
senses, and she read the notice : —

RESTOUATION. 225

HANNAH CRAIG

can learn something of her children* by calling at No. 25
F Street.

How the paper danced again before her eyes ! But
it was jo}-, and not despair, now, and her strength
seemed returning.

She fumbled nervously in her pocket for pennies to
pay the newsboy ; but Ned only answered, heartily, —

" Keep it, inarm ; that 's what I gave it to you for. I
on!y wished it was something that would do you good."

" It has done me good, then, young man ; for it lias
told me just what I wanted to know. And I thank you
a hundred times for putting it into my hand ! I should
never have thought of buying a paper."

" Is there anything else I can do for you, marm ? '*
said Ned, feeling an interest in the strange, yet familiar
face, that he could not himself explain or understand.

" I shall have to go in a carriage," said Hannah,
" for I find I can't walk." And sho took hold of the
lamp-post to steady herself, as the dreadful faintness
seemed returning. '*"Will you be so kind as to fetch
one for me ? "

" Yes, indeed ! " cried Ned, who would like no fun
better than such an errand. '• Come into this store and
sit down, and I '11 have a can'iage here in five minutes."

Eva Roberts, who was now Mrs. Frank True, did

226 THE cnri.DR::x of AMrrr court.

not forget lier promise to tlio children, and the next
day at the appointed hour she was toiling up tlie long
flights of stairs to the home of the Canto.i children.
Nora and Jemmy^ were awaiting her, and eagerly told
their little story. The lady's face grew grave as she
listened, but she would not tell them of the fear she
felt lest their mother should never again be found and
restored to them.

" But, come, I must take you home with sne now,"
she said. " We will talk the matter all over, and see
what can be done."

" O, I knew j-ou 'd help us, and make everything
come out right, if onl}^ we could find you!" Nora
cried, joyfully. "But wo didn't know where to find
you ; and mother said 3'ou were away in Chicago to
live, and might not come back for a long time. But
I alwa3's remembered you."

"Did 3'ou?" said Eva, smiling. "I have been
living in Chicago for two years past ; but now I have
come back to New York to staj'. Come, get 3'our
hats, and we will go."

"Hullo!' w.as Jemmy's sulden and jo^'ful excla-
mation. He had been very quiet during Mrs. True's
visit ; for he did not at all remember her, and he was
trying to decide how he should like her. But now an
old friend appeared, and ho dropped the difficult
problem to ran forward »nd welcome him.

RESTORATION. 227

The others turned, and saw the landlord standing
in the doorway.

Mrs. True rose and held out her hand to him, with
a merry little laugh.

" Well, this is very odd ! " she said.

" So I think," he replied, drawing a chair and sit-
ting down, with one of Jemmy's plump little hands
clasped in his. " When did you arrive?"

" Only yesterday. Thase children met me the very
first thing. They are the children of my old nurse,
Hannah Craig."

" Indeed ! " cried Mr. Salsby, looking at the chil-
dren with new interest.

" I am going to take them home with me, and see
what can be done for them. They seem to be drifting
about in a very helpless condition."

" She is going to find our mother," said Nora, con-
fidently.

" I am going to try," replied Mrs. True.

" But, if you please," said Nora, " I don't like to go
off without telling Ned. He will be wondering, and
think something has happened to us."

" Write on a card, and leave it here," suggested Mr.
Salsby ; and as Mrs. True had none with her, he pro-
duced one, and wrote the needed information, placing
it conspicuously in the middle of the table, where Bess
could not fail to see it*

228 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COXJRT.

** But tell me how I came to find you here ? " asked
Mrs. True, as she and Mr, Salsby rose to go.

" He 's the landlord ; did n't you know ? " Jemmy
volunteered.

" I found this family of children — the Cantons — here
in one of my houses, where they had suffered through
a long, cold winter, and lost their mother, perhaps in
consequence of the ill-kept and unrepaired condition
of the building ; and I felt I owed them a debt that
I have not yet been, shall never be able to pay. I
have concluded to make this room tight and com-
fortable, put into it sufficient suitable and convenient
furniture, and look after them carefully myself that
they come to no want this winter. In that way they
can keep t(^etiier, and have a home of their own
for a while longer. Then before another year is
past, they must be better provided for in some
way. I can't tell yet how to do it. Tom will do
very well where he is ; but Bess and Ned must be
put to school. I feel as if the mother who died
in this cold, cheerless attic of mine, last winter,
had left to me the duty of providing for her chil-
dren. One — the little invalid and cripple — has died
this summer. He has gone to better care than earth
could afford him. But the rest — are mine." Tears
stood in the kind, brown eyes of the young landlord,
as he told the conviction that had oome upon him, on

REStORAxiON. 229

the night when he watched bj^ little Harry. He held
Jemmy's hand closer ; ^nd Jemmj^ no way resenting
the tightened clasp, as used to he hi^ wont, half uncon-
sciously with his round, brown fingers smoothed softly
the slender, long, white hand of the fine gentleman.

Tears were in Mrs. True's eyes, too. She wanted to
speak to him, — to say hdW sM aj^preciated and sym-
pathized in his rfesolv^. IBut thei M^oMs did not come,
so she only looked up with a grave arid gentle smile,
as she tied on Nora's hat.

" And these twd gfeetn id be mine," she said, as she
took Nora's hand.

" tJritil we find mother," answered Nora.

At the outer door Mr. Salsby bade them good-
morning, and Mrs. True witli the two children walked

rapidly away to F Street, where in a pleasant

house was her new home.

The children's story was again rehearsed when Mr.
True came home to dinner, and he piromised to institute
inquiries at the police-stations concerning what became
of the woman who was run over in Kirk Street nearly
two months ago, and also to put a notice in the papers.
Still, to both the prospect looked very discouraging
that they should evet- hear more than that Haiiriah was
dead and long since buried in the stranger's lot in
some distant chnrch-yard.

Nora and Jemmy remained with Mrs. True, and the

230 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

more willingly as little Nora was greatly worn down
with the hard work and anxiety she had undergone for
so long. Now that she felt it lifted from her, she sank
into a sort of listless languor from which it was difficult
to arouse her. She lay quietly on the sofa. She com-
plained of no pain or sickness, but her eyes were con-
stantly closed in a light doze, and she cared little to
look up, speak, or even to rise and eat at the regular
meal-times. Mrs. True felt anxious about her all day
long. Jemmy, however, was wide awake and full of
delight at his new position. He declared the house was
almost as grand as that of Bella Waters, and revelled
exceedingly in the dignity of living in one so nearly
like hers.

It was late in the afternoon of the second day that a
carriage stopped before the door, and the tidy little
servant-girl announced a lady down-stairs.

" What name? " asked Mrs. True.

" She only sent up the newspaper for you to read
that," replied the girl, presenting the paper and pointing
out the advertisement for Hannah Craig.

Mrs. True turned white with surprise and pleasure.
She stopped a moment irresolute. But she would run
no risk of disappointing the children, so she went down
alone to see what the news might be.

In the parlor she started with shocked wonder at the
thin, worn, almost haggard face of Hannah Craig.

RESTORATION. 231

No less astonished was Hannah to see, in place of the
strange grand lady she expected, her own Eva Roberts.

"Miss Eva! " she cried, and then she laughed and
sobbed together. This first glad surprise prepared her
for more good news.

" Hannali, 3-ou poor, poor Hannah ! What has hap-
pened to you ? " murmured Mrs. True, taking her
weeping old nurse in her arms, and putting her ten-
derly back in a chair, while she gently loosened the
strings, and removed her bonnet.

" First, please, where are the children ? " asked
Hannah, l)rokenly, as she wiped her face, and tried to
calm her shaken nerves.

" Uivstairs, all well and safe. I '11 call them."

" Yes, do ! "

In a moment more, Nora had sprung into her
mother's arras, and Jemmy was rolling on the floor at
her feet in an ecstasy of rejoicing that found appropriate
vent in shouts of laughter. Jemmy laughed, but little
Noracould only weep, while the joyful mother, weak with
her long sickness, her wear}' day's search and disappoint-
ments, and her fiisting, wept and laughed together in
an incoherent manner. Mrs. True observed it, and
guessed the weakness that produced it. Gently she
drcAv the children up and soothed them, finding time
meanwhile to ring, and order a cup of tea and lunch for
her guest, as she insisted Hannah should be. The

232 THE CHILDBEII OF AMITY COURT.

Qarriage vr9,s dismissed, a messenger sent for tl^e valise
from Jane Copji's house, w'lt-^ a little note of expl(ina-
tion from Mrs. True ; and, after the lunch, Hannah
"^as persuaded to lie down and rest, with the children
still beside her. She could not bear to have tliem out
of her sight. Tier eager eyes feasted on their bright
happy faces, but Mrs. True insisted on deferring the
story of their adventures till to-morrow. All the lan-
guor and Ustlessness seemed to go out of Nora with
her mother's return.

" I knew 3'ou would co;me. I knew we should find
you," she said, over and over, returning her mother's
eager, happj' gaze with one almost the same.

Hannah Craig was really better than she seemed.
The day's exertion and trial had been too much fpy her ;
t)ut its happy ending, with the added i-est and quiet
Mrs. True gladly a,fforded her, soon restored her strength.
Taking her children with her, she spent a da,y or two
with Jane Cook. But befpre she started on the business
of seeking oppojrtunitics for laundry-work, Mrs. True
learned all her plan aud gladly volunteered to see what
she could do for her. It was little, perhaps ; but she
could at least talk with her aunt Meredith, and no one
had more of sucli wor'f than she, though she was seldom
willing to put out any of it. But IMrs. Meredith
il'emembcred Hannah, and might make a change in her
favor. Mrs. Dpnaldspa was <5^i^ite exultant when she

RESTORATIOM. 233

found that little Jemmy Craig was one so well deserv-
ing of the interest she had felt in him. But there was
no occasion now for her to think of adopting him.

Mrs. Meredith and her daughters were on the eve of
departure for their long-projected journey, when Eva
True called to talk about Hannah, and were in great
distress at having just discovered the cook to be dis-
honest. They did not like to go away and leave her in
the house as they had intended ; yet there was no time
to find another. And just here IIann:di proved what
Mrs. Meredith unhesitatingly pronounced a " God-
gend." She could plainly see *' the hand of Provi-
dence " in the chance that relieved her of her tixMible
and promoted her intended journey. Hannah was faith-
ful and reliable. She should come and take the cook's
place ; keep the house oixin and in order for Mr.
Meredith, and ready against her return.

Eva went home and made the proposal to Hannah.
The tears and smiles came over Hannah's face, as she
said, —

" Well, now, it would be happy-like to be working
in the old house again ; but I should miss seeing your
face, Miss Eva, sadly."

" O, I shall run over and see how j'ou are getting
along, very often,' was the reply.

"And I wouldn't like to stay ar^er the lady comes
back, 3'ou know," stipulated Hannah.

234 THE CHILDREN OP AMITY COURT.

" Of course not ; I don't think she will want you to
do that. But it will give you a chance to find rooms
for yourself, and I think there *11 be no trouble about
your finding work."

So Hannah agreed to keep the familiar house, now^
Mrs. Meredith's, open and in order while the ladies were
away.

Mr. Salsby, calling on Mrs. True and inquiring for
the children, heard the story of their mother, and later
proved a most efficient friend in securing for her the
work she wanted.

It was nearly sunset, ten long weeks from the bright
June morniag when Hannah Craig and her children
left their quiet home to go to New York. Mr. Beeler
had just locked the door of the little barber-shop,
and bowed farewell to a man who walked away down
the street. Mr. Beeler passed on, and, stopping a
moment, looked up gravely at the house-door that had
so long been closed. He sighed and shook his head,
saying, half aloud, —

" I hope it's all right. The man is good, and will
be a sure tenant. She wanted it let ; but why does n't
she write?"

He started at a tug upon his coat-skirt. Jemmy
Craig's round face laughed up into his, as he cried, —

♦' How d'you do, Mr. Beeler?"

And there was Hannah, with Nora, hurrying towards

RESTORATIONS. 2-)5

him. lie lookerf «J1 sorts of jinxious inquiries, as he
shook their hands warmly ; but he asked no questions,
and took them all away home with him to supper.
There his soft-voiced, sad-eyed daughter, Ceely, come
only a few weeks ago from Chicago, gave them a
kindly welcome, and a warm tea which greatly re-
freshed Hannah, and was certainly well patronized
by the children.

Hannah insisted on returning to her own hou^e
for the night ; and, the long pleasant summer evening
favoring her, she opened and aired it, and had begun
to feel quite at home in it once more before she fell
asleep.

Mr. Beeler had found a desirable customer to take
the lease of the place which Hannah could no longer
use to advantage. A few days later, and the change
was made. Hannah cleared her house, packed away
her furniture, and went back to the city, where Mrs.
Meredith had impatiently waited for her two days
beyond the appointed lime for their departure. When
the summer days were over, and the ladies returned,
Mr. Salsby had repaired and refitted in tidy, comfort-
able fashion the end house in Amity Court ; and on
the first floor were just the right kind of two rooms
for Hannah Craig. The Cantons were made quite
comfortable in their attic ; and though they worked
busily all winter, Bess left the carpet-room, and had

236 THE CHILDREN OF AMITY COURT.

work supplied at home. Part of it Was sewing, and
part was helping Hannah iron^ for which she had her
pay by the hour, and at which she sooil became
almost as expert and dainty with delicate fabrics as
her teacher, Hannah, herself.

Mr. Halsby did not rest when he had repaired the
end house of Amity Court. He went on refitting all
the buildings he owned there. When it was half done^
the other landlords of the Court, seeing how the con-
dition and character of the tenants rose with the
improvements, followed the good example, and Amity
Court grew to have quite a different appearance.

" It 's fine days we 've fallen on, when the landlords
will right up the houses for us," said Biddy Crowley,
as she surveyed with delight her enlarged and well-
appointed kitchen. " An' ife'S all those cHilder, to6."

And throughout the place, every cheered and pleased
tenant of a neatly-kept house firmly believes to this
day that the new and sadly-needed improvements all
came at first through those Six ctlean^ industrious, well-
behaVed children of Amity Court.

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