happy."
"I thought you were bound there the day I met you, Lizzie; but youlooked as solemn as if all your friends had lost their sight," criedMarion.
"I did feel solemn, for if Johnny could not go there he would be badlyoff. Fortunately he was ten, and dear Mrs. Russell helped me, and thosegood people took him in though they were crowded. 'We cannot turn oneaway,' said kind Mr. Parpatharges.
"So there my boy is, as happy as a king with his little mates, learningall sorts of useful lessons and pretty plays. He models nicely in clay.Here is one of his little works. Could you do as well without eyes?" andLizzie proudly produced a very one-sided pear with a long straw for astem. "I don't expect he will ever be a sculptor, but I hope he will dosomething with music, he loves it so, and is already piping away on afife very cleverly. Whatever his gift may prove, if he lives, he will betaught to be a useful, independent man, not a helpless burden, nor anunhappy creature sitting alone in the dark. I feel very happy about mylads, and am surprised to find how well I get on with them. I shall lookup some more next year, for I really think I have quite a gift that way,though you wouldn't expect it, as I have no brothers, and always had afancy boys were little imps."
The girls were much amused at Lizzie's discovery of her own powers, forshe was a stately damsel, who never indulged in romps, but lived for hermusic. Now it was evident that she had found the key to unlock childishhearts, and was learning to use it, quite unconscious that the sweetvoice she valued so highly was much improved by the tender tones singinglullabies gave it. The fat pear was passed round like refreshments,receiving much praise and no harsh criticism; and when it was safelyreturned to its proud possessor, Ida began her tale in a lively tone.
"I waited for _my_ chore, and it came tumbling down our basement stepsone rainy day in the shape of a large dilapidated umbrella with a pairof small boots below it. A mild howl made me run to open the door, for Iwas at lunch in the dining-room, all alone, and rather blue because Icouldn't go over to see Ella. A very small girl lay with her head in apuddle at the foot of the steps, the boots waving in the air, and theumbrella brooding over her like a draggled green bird.
"'Are you hurt, child?' said I.
"'Are you hurt, child?' said I."]
"'No, I thank you, ma'am,' said the mite quite calmly, as she sat up andsettled a woman's shabby black hat on her head.
"'Did you come begging?' I asked.
"'No, ma'am, I came for some things Mrs. Grover's got for us. She toldme to. I don't beg.' And up rose the sopping thing with great dignity.
"So I asked her to sit down, and ran up to call Mrs. Grover. She wasbusy with Grandpa just then, and when I went back to my lunch there satmy lady with her arms folded, water dripping out of the toes of her oldboots as they hung down from the high chair, and the biggest blue eyes Iever saw fixed upon the cake and oranges on the table. I gave her apiece, and she sighed with rapture, but only picked at it till Iasked if she didn't like it.
"'Oh yes, 'm, it's elegant! Only I was wishin' I could take it to Caddyand Tot, if you didn't mind. They never had frostin' in all their lives,and I did once.'
"Of course I put up a little basket of cake and oranges and figs, andwhile Lotty feasted, we talked. I found that their mother washed dishesall day in a restaurant over by the Albany Station, leaving the threechildren alone in the room they have on Berry Street. Think of that poorthing going off before light these winter mornings to stand over horriddishes all day long, and those three scraps of children alone tillnight! Sometimes they had a fire, and when they hadn't they stayed inbed. Broken food and four dollars a week was all the woman got, and onthat they tried to live. Good Mrs. Grover happened to be nursing a poorsoul near Berry Street last summer, and used to see the three littlethings trailing round the streets with no one to look after them.
"Lotty is nine, though she looks about six, but is as old as most girlsof fourteen, and takes good care of 'the babies,' as she calls theyounger ones. Mrs. Grover went to see them, and, though a hard-workingcreature, did all she could for them. This winter she has plenty of timeto sew, for Grandpa needs little done for him except at night andmorning, and that kind woman spent her own money, and got warm flanneland cotton and stuff, and made each child a good suit. Lotty had comefor hers, and when the bundle was in her arms she hugged it close, andput up her little face to kiss Grover so prettily, I felt that I wantedto do something too. So I hunted up Min's old waterproof and rubbers,and a hood, and sent Lotty home as happy as a queen, promising to go andsee her. I did go, and there was my work all ready for me. Oh, girls!such a bare, cold room, without a spark of fire, and no food but a panof bits of pie and bread and meat, not fit for any one to eat, and inthe bed, with an old carpet for cover, lay the three children. Tot andCaddy cuddled in the warmest place, while Lotty, with her little bluehands, was trying to patch up some old stockings with bits of cotton. Ididn't know _how_ to begin, but Lotty did, and I just took her orders;for that wise little woman told me where to buy a bushel of coal andsome kindlings, and milk and meal, and all I wanted. I worked like abeaver for an hour or two, and was so glad I'd been to a cooking-class,for I could make a fire, with Lotty to do the grubby part, and start anice soup with the cold meat and potatoes, and an onion or so. Soon theroom was warm, and full of a nice smell, and out of bed tumbled 'thebabies,' to dance round the stove and sniff at the soup, and drink milklike hungry kittens, till I could get bread and butter ready.
"It was great fun! and when we had cleared things up a bit, and I'd putfood for supper in the closet, and told Lotty to warm a bowl of soup forher mother and keep the fire going, I went home tired and dirty, butvery glad I'd found something to do. It is perfectly amazing how littlepoor people's things cost, and yet they can't get the small amount ofmoney needed without working themselves to death. Why, all I boughtdidn't cost more than I often spend for flowers, or theatre tickets, orlunches, and it made those poor babies so comfortable I could have criedto think I'd never done it before."
Ida paused to shake her head remorsefully, then went on with her story,sewing busily all the while on an unbleached cotton night-gown whichlooked about fit for a large doll.
"I have no romantic things to tell, for poor Mrs. Kennedy was ashiftless, broken-down woman, who could only 'sozzle round,' as Mrs.Grover said, and rub along with help from any one who would lend a hand.She had lived out, married young, and had no faculty about anything; sowhen her husband died, and she was left with three little children, itwas hard to get on, with no trade, feeble health, and a discouragedmind. She does her best, loves the girls, and works hard at the onlything she can find to do; but when she gives out, they will all have topart,--she to a hospital, and the babies to some home. She dreads that,and tugs away, trying to keep together and get ahead. Thanks to Mrs.Grover, who is very sensible, and knows how to help poor people, we havemade things comfortable, and the winter has gone nicely.
"The mother has got work nearer home, Lotty and Caddy go to school, andTot is safe and warm, with Miss Parsons to look after her. Miss Parsonsis a young woman who was freezing and starving in a little roomupstairs, too proud to beg and too shy and sick to get much work. Ifound her warming her hands one day in Mrs. Kennedy's room, and hangingover the soup-pot as if she was eating the smell. It reminded me of thepicture in Punch where the two beggar boys look in at a kitchen,sniffing at the nice dinner cooking there. One says, 'I don't care forthe meat, Bill, but I don't mind if I takes a smell at the pudd'n' whenit's dished.' I proposed a lunch at once, and we all sat down, and atesoup out of yellow bowls with pewter spoons with such a relish it wasfun to see. I had on my old rig; so poor Parsons thought I was somedressmaker or work-girl, and opened her heart to me as she never wouldhave done if I'd gone and demanded her confidence, and patronized her,as some people do when they want to help. I promised her some work, andproposed that she should do it in Mrs. K.'s room, as a favor, mind you,so that the older girls could go to school and Tot have some one to lookafter her. She agreed, and that saved her fire, and mad
e the K.'s allright. Sarah (that's Miss P.) tried to stiffen up when she learned whereI lived; but she wanted the work, and soon found I didn't put on airs,but lent her books, and brought her and Tot my bouquets and favors aftera german, and told her pleasant things as she sat cooking her poorchilblainy feet in the oven, as if she never could get thawed out.
"This summer the whole batch are to go to Uncle Frank's farm and pickberries, and get strong. He hires dozens of women and children duringthe fruit season, and Mrs. Grover said it was just what they all needed.So off they go in June, as merry as grigs, and I shall be able to lookafter them now and then, as I always go