A Little Girl in Old New York

  CHAPTER XV

  A PLAY IN THE BACK YARD

  The pretty block in First Street that had been so clean and genteel, aword used very much at that time, was fast changing. The lower part onthe south side was rilling up with undesirable people, some foreignerswho crowded three families into a house. Houston Street was growinggaudy and common with Jew stores. And oh, the children! There was alarge bakery where they sold cheap bread, and in the afternoon therereally was a procession coming in and going out.

  Chris and Lily Ludlow had teased their mother to move. The place wascomfortable and near their father's business, so why should they? Butthe girls Lily was intimate with had moved away, and she hated to goaround Avenue A to school.

  There were changes at the upper end as well. The Weirs had gone fromnext door, and two families with small children had taken the house. Thebabies seemed so pudgy and untidy that the little girl did not fancythem much. Frank Whitney was married with quite a fine wedding-party,and had gone to Williamsburg to live. Mrs. Whitney had rented two roomsin the house to a dressmaker. Delia was almost grown up. She had shotinto a tall girl, though she would have her dresses short; she despisedyoung ladyhood. She was smart and capable. She helped with the meals;often, indeed, her mother did not come down until breakfast was ready,when she had had a "bad night." That was when she read novels in beduntil two or three o'clock. Delia swept the house--she often did wash onSaturday, though her brother scolded when she did it. She was the samejolly, eager, careless girl, and delighted in a game of tag, but shecould so easily outrun the smaller children. She and Jim sometimes racedround the block, one going in one direction, one in the other, and Jimdidn't always beat, either.

  Then she would sit out on the stoop with a crowd of children and tellwonderful stories. She didn't explain that they were largely made up"out of her own head." Next door above the Deans two new little girlshad come, very nice children, who played with dolls. There was quite anarray when five little girls had their best dolls out. Nora generallybrought Pussy Gray, and they were always entertained with her talking.

  Some boys had invaded the Reed's side of the block. Charles had strictinjunctions not to parley with them. But one went in an office aserrand boy, and the other quite disdained Jane Robertine Charlotte, ashe called him. It did begin to annoy Mr. Reed to have his son made thebutt of the street. He was a nice, obedient, upright, orderly boy. Whatwas lacking? In some respects he was very manly. Mr. Reed suddenlyconcluded that a woman wasn't capable of bringing up boys, and he musttake him in hand.

  For two weeks Mrs. Reed had been threatening to cut his hair. The boyssaid, "Sissy, why don't your mother put your hair up in curl papers?" Itlooked so dreadful when it was first cut that Charles always spent theseweeks between Scylla and Charybdis. He knew all about the rock and thewhirlpools. But something had been happening all the time, even to thisSaturday afternoon, when all the silver had to be scoured. Mr. Reedinspected his son as he sat at the supper-table. He had a ratherpoetical appearance with his long hair curling at the ends, but it wasno look for a boy.

  "Don't you want to take a walk down the street with me?" said hisfather.

  Charles started as if he had been struck.

  "I'm dead tired and I want him to wipe my dishes. I haven't been off myfeet since five o'clock this morning only at meal-time. Then he must goto the store."

  "I'll wait until then."

  Mrs. Reed looked sharply at them. Had Charles done something that hadescaped her all-sided vision and was his father going to take him totask? Or was there a conspiracy?

  "What do you want him for?" she inquired sharply.

  "Oh, I thought we'd walk down the street."

  "Smoking a cigar, of course," as Mr. Reed took one out of his case. "Itcertainly won't be your fault if the child hasn't every bad tendencyunder the sun. I've done _my_ best. And you know smoking is a vilehabit."

  Mr. Reed had long ago learned the wisdom of silence, which was evenbetter than a soft answer.

  Charles put on a pinafore that hung in the kitchen closet. He could drydishes beautifully.

  "You've been cutting behind on stages," said his mother. "Some one hastold your father."

  "No, I haven't. Upon my word and honor."

  "That's next to swearing, John Robert Charles. How often have I told youthese little things lead to confirmed bad habits."

  John Robert Charles was silent.

  "Well, you've done something. And if your father does once take you inhand----"

  The boy trembled. This awful threat had been held over him for years.Nothing _had_ come of it, so it couldn't as yet be compared to Mrs. JoeGargery's "rampage."

  Mr. Reed sat comfortably on the front stoop smoking and reading. Thewind drove the smoke straight down the street, and not into the house.How it could get in with the windows shut down was a mystery, but itseemed to sometimes.

  Charles brushed his hair and washed his hands.

  "I _must_ cut your hair. I ought to do it this very night, tired as Iam. Now brush your clothes and go out to your father. I'll be thinkingup what I want. Pepper is one thing. Go down to the old man's and getsome horseradish. If there is anything else I'll come out and tell you."

  Charles went reluctantly out to the front stoop.

  "Hillo!" said his father cheerfully. "You through?"

  That did not sound very threatening.

  "We are to get pepper and horseradish."

  Mr. Reed nodded, folded his paper and, slipping it into his pocket,settled his hat.

  "Mother may think of something else."

  She positively couldn't. She considered that it saved time to do errandswhen you were going out, and she spent a great deal of time trying tothink how to save it.

  They walked down First Avenue past Houston Street. Almost at the end ofthe next block there was a barber-pole with its stripes running round.The barber-pole and the Indian at the cigar shops were features of thatday, as well.

  "Wouldn't you like to have your hair cut, Charles?" inquired his father.

  The world swam round so that Charles was minded to clutch thebarber-pole, but he bethought himself in time that it was dusty. Helooked at his father in amaze.

  "Oh, don't be a ninny! No one will take your head off. Come, you're bigenough boy to go to the barber's."

  The palace of delight seemed opening before the boy. No one can rightlyunderstand his satisfaction at this late day. The mothers, you see, usedto cut hair as they thought was right, and nearly every mother had adifferent idea except those whose idea was simply to cut it off.

  They had to wait awhile. Charles sat down in a padded chair, had a largewhite towel pinned close up under his chin, his hair combed out with thesoftest touch imaginable. The barber's hands were silken soft; hismother's were hard and rough. Snip, snip, snip, comb, brush, sprinklesome fragrance out of a bottle with a pepper-sauce cork--bulbs andsprays had not been invented. Oh, how delightful it was! He really didnot want to get down and go home.

  Mr. Reed had been talking to an acquaintance. The other chair beingvacant, he had his beard trimmed. He was not sure whether he would haveit taken off this summer, though he generally did. He turned his head alittle and looked at his son. He wasn't as poetical looking, but really,he was a nice, clean, wholesome, and--yes--manly boy. But he blushedscarlet.

  "That looks something like," was his father's comment. What a nice broadforehead Charles had!

  "He's a nice boy," said the barber in a low tone. "Boy to be proud of. Iwish there were more like him."

  Mr. Reed paid his bill and they went to the store. Then they strolled ondown the street. But Charles was in distress lest the pungent berry andodoriferous root should take the barber's sweetness out of him. He waspuzzled, too. It seemed to him he ought to say something grateful to hisfather. He was so very, very glad at heart. But it was so hard to talkto his father. He always envied Jim and Ben Underhill their father. Hehad found it easy to talk to him on several occasions.

  "I must say you are imp
roved," his father began presently. "You motherhas too much to do bothering about household affairs. And you're gettingto be a big boy. Why don't you find some boys to go with? There arethose Underhills. You're too big to play with girls."

  "But mother doesn't like boys," hesitatingly.

  "You should have been a girl!" declared his father testily. "But sinceyou're not, do try to be a little more manly."

  The father hardly knew what to say himself. And yet he felt that he didlove his son.

  They were just at the area gate. Charles caught his father's hand. "I'mso glad," breathlessly. "The boys have laughed at me, and you--you'vebeen so good."

  Mr. Reed was really touched. They entered the basement. Mrs. Reed, likeMrs. Gargery, still had on her apron. Charles put the pepper in thecanister, his mother took care of the horseradish. Then he sat down withhis history.

  "For pity's sake, Abner Reed, what have you done to that child! He lookslike a scarecrow! He's shaved thin in one place and great tufts left inanother. I was going to cut his hair this very evening. And I'll trim itto some decency now."

  She sprang up for the shears.

  "You will let him alone," said Mr. Reed, in a firm, dignified tone. "Heis quite old enough to look like other boys. When I want him to go tothe barber's I'll take him. You will find enough to do. Charles, get alamp and go up to your own room."

  "I don't allow him to have a lamp in his room. He will set somethinga-fire."

  "Then go up in the parlor."

  "The parlor!" his mother shrieked.

  "I'll go to bed," said Charles. "I know my lesson."

  There was a light in the upper hall. On the second floor were thesleeping-chambers. Charles' was the back hall room. He could see verywell from the light up the stairway.

  What happened in the basement dining-room he could not even imagine. Hisfather so seldom interfered in any matter, and his mother had a way oftalking him down. But Charles was asleep when they came to bed.

  Still, he had a rather hard day on Sunday. His mother was coldly severeand captious. Once she said:

  "I can't bear to look at you, you are so disfigured! If _that_ is whatyour father calls style----" and she shook her head disapprovingly.

  He went to church and Sunday-school, and then his father took him up toTompkins Square for a walk. It seemed as if they had never beenacquainted before. Why, his father was real jolly. And it was a niceweek at school after the boys got done asking him "Who his Barber was?"He could see the big B they put to it.

  On Saturday afternoon Mrs. Reed had to go out shopping with a cousin.She was an excellent shopper. She could find flaws, and beat down, andget a spool of cotton or a piece of tape thrown in. When Charles camehome from singing-school he was to go over to the Deans and play in theback yard. He was not to be out on the sidewalk at all.

  They were going to have a splendid time. Elsie and Florence Hay wouldbring their dolls. Even Josie envied the pretty names, though sheconfessed to Hanny that she didn't think Hay was nice, because it madeyou think of "hay, straw, oats" on the signs at the feed stores. But thegirls were very sweet and pleasant. Nora had come in with the catdressed in one of her own long baby frocks.

  Hanny ran in to get her doll. It was still her choice possession, andhad been named and unnamed. Her mother began to think she was too big toplay with dolls, but Margaret had made it such a pretty wardrobe.

  Ben sat at the front basement window reading. Mr. and Mrs. Underhill hadgone up to see Miss Lois, who was far from well. Margaret was out on"professional rounds," which Ben thought quite a suggestive littlephrase. Martha was scrubbing and of course he couldn't talk to her. Hehad cut the side of his foot with a splinter of glass, and his motherwould not allow him to put on his shoe.

  Hanny brought down her doll. Ben looked rather wistfully at her.

  "I wish you'd come in too. We're going to have such a nice time," shesaid in a soft tone.

  "I'd look fine playing with dolls."

  "But you needn't really play with dolls. Mrs. Dean doesn't. She's thegrandmother. We go to visit her, and she tells us about the old times,just as Aunt Nancy and Aunt Patience do. Of course she wasn't therereally, she makes believe, you know. And you might be the--the----"

  "Grandfather who had lost his leg in the war."

  Ben laughed. He had half a mind to go.

  "Oh, that would be splendid. And you could be a prisoner when theBritish held New York. There'd be such lots to talk about. You couldwear John's slipper, you see----"

  She smiled so persuasively. She would never be as handsome as Margaret,but she had such tender, coaxing eyes, and such a sweet mouth.

  "Well, I'll bring my book along." It was one of Cooper's novels thatboys were going wild over just then. "Do you really think they'd like tohave me?"

  "Oh, I know they would," eagerly.

  Ben had to walk rather one-sided. Joe said he must not bear any weighton the outside of his foot to press the wound open.

  "I've brought Ben," announced the little girl. "And he's going to be aRevolutionary soldier."

  "We are very glad to see him," and Mrs. Dean rose. She had a whitekerchief crossed on her breast, and a pretty cap pinned up for theoccasion.

  The yard was shady in the afternoon. There was a piece of carpet spreadon the grass, and some chairs arranged on it, and two or three rugs laidaround. On the space paved with brick stood the table, and two boxeswere the dish closets. There were some cradles, and a bed arranged onanother box. It really was a pretty picture.

  Josie and Charles were generally the mother and father of one household.Charles blushed up to the roots of his hair. He liked playing with thegirls, when he was the only boy, with no one to laugh at him.

  "Now you mustn't mind me or I shall go back home and stay all alone,"said Ben. That appealed to everybody's sympathy. "I'm coming over hereto talk to grandmother about what we did when we were young."

  Grandmother had some knitting. People even then knit their husband'swinter stockings because they wore so much better. "And Mrs.Pennypacker, you might come and call on us."

  Nora laughed. That was Ben's favorite name for her when she had the cat.

  The soft gray head and the gray paws looked rather queer out of the longwhite dress. Pussy Gray had a white nose and his eyes were fastened inwith a black streak that looked like a ribbon.

  "How is your son to-day?" Ben inquired.

  "He is pretty well, except he's getting some teeth. Ain't you, darling?"and Nora hugged him up.

  "Wow," said Kitty softly.

  "Have you had the doctor?"

  "No-o," answered Kitty, looking up pathetically.

  "I'm afraid I've neglected him," explained Mrs. Pennypacker. "You poordarling! But your mother has been so busy."

  "Meaow," said Kitty resignedly.

  "Are you hungry, dear? Would you like a bit of cold chicken? He has tohave something to keep up his strength. Teething is so hard onchildren."

  "Me-e-a-ow," returned Kitty, with plaintive affirmation.

  Mrs. Pennypacker went over to the table and gave him a mouthful ofsomething. If it wasn't chicken it answered the purpose. Then she satdown to rock him to sleep and asked Ben in what battle he had lost hisleg.

  Ben thought it was the battle of White Plains. He was very young at thetime.

  "How hard it must be to have a wooden leg," sighed Nora. "And of courseyou can't dance a bit."

  "Oh, no, indeed!"

  "Did they treat you very badly when you were a prisoner?"

  "Dreadful," answered Ben. "They didn't give us half enough to eat."

  "That was terrible. I hope you'll be contented here, where everything isso nice and cheerful. I am going to see Mr. and Mrs. Brown now."

  "Please give them my compliments and tell them I should be very happy tohave them call."

  Charles had been watching Ben furtively with an apprehension that thereal enjoyment of the afternoon would be spoiled. And no doubt he wouldtell the Houston Street boys "all about it." He was har
dly prepared tosee Ben enter so into the spirit of the "make believe."

  Then Ben and Mrs. Dean had a little talk that might have been consideredan anachronism, since it was about the foot still fast to his body. Hehad stepped on a piece of glass in the stable, and it had gone throughthe old shoe he had on for that kind of work. But Joe had seen it thatmorning and thought it would get along all right.

  They were talking very eagerly over the other side of the city. Andpresently quite a procession came to call on the old veteran. Ben andCharles fell into a discussion about some battles, and the misfortune itwas to the country to lose New York so early in the contest. Theycompared their favorite generals and discussed the prospect of war withMexico that was beginning to be talked about. And Mr. Brown said he hadsome cousins who were very anxious to see an old soldier of theRevolution. Could he bring them over?

  Then Elsie and Florence Hay came. Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Pennypacker askedhim to tea and he said he should be glad to accept.

  Mrs. Dean thought they had better have their tea in the dining-room, butJosie said let them spread the cloth on the coping of the area, andbring the chairs and benches just inside. Charles said that would be asort of Roman feast and the guests would make believe there werecouches. They put down papers and then a cloth, and Josie brought outher dishes. Grandmother held the Pennypacker baby, who certainly was thebest cat in the world and settled himself down, white dress and all.

  Ben asked Charles if he was studying Roman history, and found he wasreading the Orations of Cicero in Latin, and knew a great deal aboutGreece and Rome. He had read most of Sir Walter Scott's novels, andliked "Marmion" beyond everything.

  "What was he going to do--enter college?"

  "Mother wants me to. Father says I may if I like."

  He colored a little, but did not say his mother had set her heart on hisbeing a minister because his Uncle Robert, who died, had intended toenter that profession. Ben said the boys, John and the doctor, wantedhim to go, but he wished he could be a newspaper man like Nora's father.His mother thought it a kind of shiftless business. They talked overtheir likes and dislikes in boy fashion, and Charles enjoyed itimmensely. He thought it would be just royal to have a big brother whowas a doctor, and a little sister like Hanny.

  Meanwhile the little women had been very much engrossed with theirchildren and their tea party, and the prospect of a grandmother and anold soldier coming to visit them.

  "And Mr. Brown is so heedless," said Mrs. Brown. "He ought to be here togo to the store, but he's off talking and men are _so_ absent-minded."

  Elsie said she'd go to the store, which was the closet in the basement.

  Then the company came, and the old soldier limped dreadfully. Mrs. Brownscolded her husband a little, and then excused him, and everybody wasseated in a row. There was a plate of thin bread-and-butter, some smokedbeef cut in small pieces, some sugar crackers, quite a fad of that day,and a real cake. Mrs. Dean had given them half of a newly baked one.

  It was quite a tea. Mr. Dean came home in the midst of it andsympathized warmly with the hero of 1776, and was extremely courteous tograndmother. The little girls cleared away the dishes, put theirchildren to bed, had a fine swing and played "Puss in the Corner" withtwo sets.

  Mr. Reed came in for Charles.

  "I wish you'd come over and see my boy," he said to Ben. "He's a ratherlonely chap, having no brothers or sisters."

  "Let him come over to our house," returned Ben cordially. "We have agood supply."

  Then everybody dispersed. They'd had such a good time, and were eager intheir acknowledgments.

  "Why, I quite like John Robert Charles," said Ben. "He's a real smartfellow."

  "If you would please not call him all those names," entreated Hanny. "Hedoesn't like them."

  "Well, I should say not. I'd like just plain Bob. He wants thegirlishness shaken out of him."

  "But he's so nice. And if he should come over please don't let Jimplague him."

  "Oh, I'll look out."

  It was a week before Ben could put on his shoe, and of course it was notwisdom for him to go to school. He went down-town in the wagon and didsome writing and accounts for Steve, and read a great deal. Mr. Reed andCharles sauntered over one evening. Hanny was sitting out on the stoopwith "father and the boys," and gave Charles a soft, welcoming smile.Margaret was playing twilight tunes in a gentle manner, and the dulcetmeasures fascinated the boy, who could hardly pay attention to what Benwas saying.

  "Do you want to go in and hear her?" Hanny asked, with quick insight asshe caught his divided attention.

  "Oh, if I could!" eagerly.

  "Yes." Hanny rose and held out her hand, saying: "We are going in toMargaret."

  The elder sister greeted them cordially. After playing a little sheasked them if they would not like to sing.

  They chose "Mary to the Saviour's Tomb" first. It was a great favoritein those days. The little girl liked it because she could play and singit for her father. She was taking music lessons of Margaret's teachernow, and practised her scales and exercises with such assiduity that shehad been allowed to play this piece. She did sometimes pick out tunes,but it was after the real work was done.

  "Your boy has a fine voice," said John to Mr. Reed.

  The father was not quite sure singing was manly. He had roused to thefact that Charles was rather "girly," and he wanted him like other boys.

  "He is a good scholar," his father returned in half protest. "Standshighest in his class."

  "Going to send him to college?"

  "I don't just know," hesitatingly.

  "Has he any fancy for a profession? He'd make an attractive minister."

  "I don't know as I have much of a fancy for that."

  Mr. Reed knew it was his wife's hope and ambition, but it had neverappealed to him.

  "The boys want Ben to go to college," said John, the "boys" standing forthe two older brothers.

  "I don't want to be a lawyer nor a doctor," subjoined Ben decisively."And I shouldn't be good enough for a minister. There ought to be someother professions."

  "Why, there are. Professorships, civil engineering, and so on."

  While the men discussed future chances, the children were singing, andtheir sweet young voices moved both fathers curiously. Mr. Reed decidedthat he would cultivate his neighbor, even if Charles had not made muchheadway with Ben and Jim.