Bishop's Shadow

by Joel Chandler Harris

  VII. AFTER TODE'S DEPARTURE

  In the bishop's household, Mrs. Martin was always one of the earliestto rise in the morning, and just as Tode sat down to breakfast withNan and Little Brother, the housekeeper was going downstairs. Tode'sdoor stood open and she saw that he was not in the room. Her quickeyes noted also the pile of neatly folded garments on a chair besidethe bed. She stepped into the room and looked around. Then she hurriedto the study, knowing that the boy loved to stay there, but the studywas unoccupied.

  By the time breakfast was ready she knew that the boy had left thehouse, but the bishop refused to believe it, nor would he be convinceduntil the house had been searched from attic to cellar. WhenMr. Gibson made his appearance, a gleam of satisfaction shone in hisnarrow eyes as he learned of Tode's disappearance.

  "I was afraid something like this would happen," he remarked,gravely. "It's a hopeless kind of business, trying to make anythingout of such material. I've had my suspicions of that boy for sometime."

  "Don't be too quick to condemn him, Mr. Gibson," exclaimed thebishop, hastily. "He may have had some good reason for going awayso. I've no doubt he thought he had, but I had grown to love the ladand I shall miss him sadly."

  "Did you never suspect that he was not deaf and dumb, as he pretendedto be?" the secretary asked.

  The bishop looked up quickly. "Why, no, indeed, I never had such anidea," he answered. An unpleasant smile flickered over thesecretary's thin lips as he went on, "I heard the boy talking tohimself, here in this room, last evening. He can hear and speak aswell as you or I."

  "Oh, I am sorry! I am sorry!" said the bishop, sadly, and then heturned to his desk, and sitting down, hid his face in his hands, andwas silent. The secretary cast more than one swift, sidewise glance athim, but dared say no more then.

  After a while the bishop drew his Bible toward him. It opened at thefourteenth chapter of John, and there lay Tode's poor little soiledand blotted note. The bishop read it with tear-dimmed eyes, read itagain and again, and finally slipped it into an envelope, and replacedit between the leaves of his Bible. He said nothing about it to hissecretary, and presently he went to his own room, where for a longtime he walked back and forth, thinking about the boy, and how hemight find him again.

  Then Brown came to him with a telegram summoning him to the sickbed ofhis only sister, and within an hour he left the city, and was absenttwo weeks.

  Meantime Tode, the morning after his scrubbing and whitewashingoperations, had carefully folded the clothes he had worn when he leftthe bishop's house and tied them up in an old newspaper. Into one ofthe pockets of the jacket he had put a note which ran thus:

  DEAR MRS. MARTIN:

  Pleas giv thes cloes to the bishop and tell him i wud not have tookthem away if i had had any others. I did not take shoes or stockins.I keep the littel testament and i read in it evry day. Tell him i amtrying to be good and when i get good enuf I shall go and see him. Youwas good to me but he was so good that he made me hate myself andevrything bad. I can never be bad again while i remember him.

  TODE BRYAN.

  He hired a boy whom he knew, to carry the bundle to the bishop'shouse, and from behind a tree-box further down the street, he watchedand saw it taken in by Brown. The boy's heart was beating hard andfast, as he stood there longing, yet dreading, to see the bishophimself come out of the house. But the bishop was far away, and Todewalked sadly homeward, casting many a wistful, lingering glancebackward, as he went.

  Brown carried the package gingerly to Mrs. Martin, for the boy whohad delivered it was not over clean, and Mrs. Martin opened it withsome suspicion, but when she saw the clothes she recognised theminstantly, and finding the note in the pocket read it with wet eyes.

  "I knew that wasn't a bad boy," she said to herself, "and this provesit. He's as honest as the day, or he wouldn't have sent back theseclothes--the poor little fellow. Well, well! I hope the bishop canfind him when he gets back, and as to the boy's pretending to be deafand dumb, I'm sure there was something underneath that if we only knewit. Anyhow, I do hope I'll see the little fellow again sometime."

  When the bishop returned the accumulated work of his weeks of absenceso pressed upon him that for a while he had no time for anything else,and when at last he was free to search for Tode, he could find notrace of him.

  As for Tode, he had never once thought of the possibility of thebishop's searching for him. He looked forward to seeing his friendagain sometime, but that time he put far away when he himself shouldbe "more fit," as he said to himself.

  One evening soon after his return, Nan had a long talk with him, atalk that left her wondering greatly at the change in his thoughts andpurposes, and which made her regard him with quite a new feeling ofrespect.

  "Nan," he began, "I told you I'd got loads of things to do now."

  "Yes?" The girl looked at him inquiringly.

  Tode was silent for a little. It was harder for him to speak than hehad thought it would be.

  "You see," he went on, slowly, "I've been mean as dirt all mylife. You don't know what mean things I've done, an' I ain't goin' totell ye, only that I know now I've got to turn straight around an' notdo 'em any more. I've got to make a man of myself," he drew himself upas he spoke, "a real man--the kind that helps other folks up. I can'tsay just what I mean, but I feel it myself," he added, with ahalf-appealing glance at Nan.

  She had listened attentively with her eyes fastened on his earnestface. Now she said softly, "You mean--you want to be the kind of manthe bishop is, don't you?"

  "Oh, I couldn't ever be _really_ like him," protested the boy,quickly, "but, well, I'm goin' to try to be a sort of shadow of him. Imean I'm goin' to try to amount to something myself, an' do what I canto help other poor fellers up instead of down. I'm goin' to lend ahand 'mongst the folks 'round here, just a little you know, as he does'mongst the poor people he goes to see. But I've got some otherthings to do too. I've got some money to pay back, an' I've got tofind a feller that I helped to pull down."

  And thereupon, Tode told the story of Mrs. Russell's pocketbook andher search for Jack Finney. He told it all quite frankly, not tryingin the least to excuse or lessen his own guilt in the matter.

  "It will take you a long time to save up so much money, Tode," Nansaid when he paused.

  "Yes, unless I can find some way to earn more, but I can't helpthat. I'll do the best I can, an' I've got some notions in my head."

  He talked over with her some of his plans and projects, and as shelistened, she thought to herself, "He's getting 'way ahead of me, butI'm afraid he'll get into trouble at first."

  And she was not mistaken. Tode was now so thoroughly in earnesthimself that he forgot to take into consideration the fact that thosewhom he meant to help up might prefer to be left to go down in theirown fashion. His old associates speedily discovered that a greatchange had come over Tode Bryan, and the change did not meet withtheir approval. They called it "mighty cheeky" of him to be "pokin'his nose" into their affairs, and they would show him that he'd betterstop it. So Tode soon found himself exceedingly unpopular, and, whatwas worse, in a way, under a boycott that threatened to ruin hisbusiness.

  He fell into the way of carrying his trials and perplexities to Nan,and talking them over with her. She had plenty of that common sense,which is not very common after all, and she often made him see thereason of his failures, while at the same time he was sure of hersympathy.

  One evening Tode appeared in her room with his little Testament in hishand. There was a perplexed expression in his eyes as he said, "Nan,'bout readin' this, you know--I've been peggin' away at the firstpart, an' I can't make nothin' of it. It's just a string of funnywords, names, I s'pose. _I_ don't see no sense to it."

  Nan glanced at the page to which he had opened. It was the firstchapter of Matthew.

  "Oh, that's all it is, just a lot of names. You can skip all that,Tode," she answered, easily.

  "No I can't, neither," replied the boy, decidedly. "If I begin toskip
, no knowin' where I'll stop. If it's readin' this book that makesfolks good, I've got to know all 'bout it. Say, can't you read thiswith me an' tell me how to call all these jawbreakers?"

  Nan looked rather shocked at the boy's free and easy reference to theBook, but seeing from his grave face and serious manner that he wasvery much in earnest, she sat down with him, and the two young headsbent over the page together.

  "I remember reading this chapter with mother," Nan said, gently, "andshe told me how to pronounce these names, but I can't remember all ofthem now. I'll do the best I can, though," and she read slowly thefirst seventeen verses, Tode repeating each name after her.

  "Whew!" he exclaimed, in a tone of intense relief, when the task wasended, "that's 'bout the toughest job ever I tackled."

  "Well, you see, you needn't read all that again. The rest of thechapter is different. It's all about Jesus," Nan said.

  Tode read the remaining verses slowly by himself, but he shook hishead in a dissatisfied way as he closed the book. "That's easier thanthe names to read, but I don't seem to get much out of it. Guess I'mtoo thick-headed," he said, in a discouraged tone.

  "Tode," exclaimed Nan, suddenly, "you ought to go to someSunday-school. Then you'd learn all about the Bible and the things youwant to know."

  "Might be a good scheme, that's a fact," he answered,thoughtfully. "Reckon I'll try it on anyhow, an' see how it works."

  "Yes, do. I always used to go before mother was sick. If you have agood teacher you'll like it, I'm sure."

  "There's a mission school down near my stand. I'll have a try at itnext Sunday an' see what it's like," Tode said.

  So the very next day he went to the mission chapel, and, from thenotice on the door, found out the hours of service, and the followingSunday he was on hand in due season. As he went somewhat doubtfully upthe steps, he saw in the vestibule a young man, who stepped forwardand held out his hand, saying cordially,

  "Glad to see you here. Are you a stranger?"

  Tode wasn't quite sure what a stranger might be, but he muttered, "Iain't never been here before."

  "Then I'm glad I happened to meet you. Will you come into my class?"

  Tode nodded and followed the young man into the chapel, which wasalready nearly full of boys and girls.

  "My name is Scott. What is yours?" inquired the stranger, as he ledthe way to his own corner of the room.

  Tode gave his name, and Mr. Scott introduced him to half a dozen boyswho had already taken their places in his class. One of these boys wasDick Hunt. He gave Tode a careless nod by way of greeting, as thelatter dropped into the seat next him.

  To Tode's great satisfaction the lesson chanced to be on the birth ofthe Lord Jesus, and Mr. Scott told the boys the whole story so clearlyand vividly, that Tode at least was intensely interested. It was allnew and fresh to him, and he was listening eagerly to every word, whensuddenly Dick Hunt ran a long pin deep into his leg. The pain madehim start and almost cry out, but he suppressed the cry as he turnedand gave Dick a savage pinch that made him writhe, as he exclaimed ina threatening tone, "You stop that!"

  Mr. Scott turned grave, inquiring eyes on the two, as he asked:

  "What's the matter, Dick?"

  "He's a pinchin' me--Tode Bryan is. He give me an awful tweak when youwasn't a lookin'."

  "Is that so?" Mr. Scott asked, and Tode, with a scornfully defiantglance at Dick, answered promptly, "Yes."

  "I am sorry, Tode," said Mr. Scott; "you can sit here on the otherside."

  Tode's face flushed a little as he changed his seat, but now anotherof the boys, having a grudge against Dick, cried out,

  "Hunt stuck a pin in him first; I seen him do it."

  "You hush up!" muttered Dick, with a scowl.

  Just then the superintendent's bell sounded and the lesson time wasover.

  When the school was dismissed, Mr. Scott detained Tode.

  "Why didn't you tell me that Dick had stuck a pin into you first," theteacher asked, rapidly turning the leaves of his Bible as he spoke.

  "I ain't a sneak like he is," answered Tode, briefly.

  Mr. Scott found the place that he wanted, and keeping his fingerbetween the leaves, looked thoughtfully at the boy before him.

  "You told me that your name is Tode. That is what the boys callyou. It isn't your real name, is it?" he asked, with a friendly look.

  Tode puckered his forehead into a puzzled frown at the question.

  "N-no," he answered, slowly. "There's some more to it, but I can'tthink what 'tis. Wish't I could."

  "You've no father or mother?"

  "No--never had none since I's big enough to know anything," was thecareless reply.

  Mr. Scott laid his hand kindly on the lad's shoulder.

  "My boy," he said, slowly and earnestly, "I believe yours is a verybeautiful name. It must be Theodore."

  "That's it! That's it!" exclaimed Tode, excitedly. "I 'membersomebody told it to me once, an' I know that's it. How'd you know itso quick?" He looked up wonderingly into his teacher's face as heasked the question.

  "I once knew another Theodore who was nicknamed Tode; but, my boy, doyou know what your name means?"

  Tode shook his head. "Didn't know names meant anything," he answered.

  "But they do. Theodore means the gift of God. A boy with such a nameas that ought to count for something in the world."

  "I mean to." The boy uttered the words slowly and emphatically.

  Mr. Scott's face brightened. "Do you mean that you love and serve theLord Jesus, Theodore?" he asked, softly.

  The boy shook his head half sadly, half perplexedly.

  "I don't know nothin' much 'bout Him," he answered, with a gentlenessmost strange and unusual in him, "but I've promised to do the rightthing every time now--an' I'm a-goin' to do it."

  "You have promised--whom, Theodore?"

  "Promised myself--but I don't know nothin' much 'bout what is theright thing," he added, in a discouraged tone.

  "You'll soon learn if you're in earnest, my boy. This Book will tellyou all you need to know. Can you read?"

  "Some."

  "Then read this verse for me, will you?" Mr. Scott held out his Bibleand pointed to the verse.

  Slowly and stumblingly the boy read, "Dearly beloved, avenge notyourselves," and again,

  "Recompense to no man evil for evil."

  Seeing that Tode did not understand the meaning of what he had read,Mr. Scott explained the passages to him. The boy listened attentively,then he exclaimed in a tone of dismay,

  "But does it mean that a feller can't never strike back?"

  "That's what it says."

  Tode pondered this unpalatable statement with a clouded face.

  "But what ye goin' to do when some other feller cuts up rough withye?"

  "Find some other way to get even with him."

  "But I don't see--what other way is there 'cept hittin' him a harderone'n he gives you?"

  Mr. Scott opened his Bible again and pointed to the last two verses ofthe twelfth chapter of Romans.

  Tode went home that day with his mind in a tumult. These new ideas didnot suit him at all. A "word and a blow," and the blow first had beenhis method of settling such questions heretofore, and it seemed to himfar the better way.

  He took a roundabout route home, for he did not want to see Nan untilhe had thought out this matter to his own satisfaction. To help peoplepoorer or weaker than himself, or to "keep straight" himself, and helpothers to do likewise--this was one thing. To meekly submit to illtreatment and "take a blow" from a fellow whom he "could whip with hislittle finger"--this was quite another and, to one of Tode'stemperament, a far more distasteful thing.

  The boy had reached no conclusion when he finally went home tosupper. He was silent and thoughtful all the evening, but it was notuntil the following day that he spoke of the matter to Nan.

  Nan listened in perplexed silence to what he had to say. She had beenwell taught while her mother lived, but she had never
given thesesubjects any real, deep thought, as Tode was doing now. She began tofeel that this rough, untaught street boy was likely to get far aheadof her if he should keep on pondering over questions like this. Evennow she could give him but little help.

  Seeing this, Tode took up his Testament again, and read on and onuntil he had finished the book of Matthew, and gained a pretty clearidea of the life and death of Jesus the Christ. There was much, ofcourse, that he did not understand at all. Many of the words andexpressions conveyed no meaning to him, but yet he gathered enough tounderstand, in a measure, what that Life was, and he began dimly torealise why the bishop gave so much of his time and thought to God'spoor. The boy pondered these things in his heart, and a new worldseemed to open before him.

  "Nan," he said at last, "I've found out what my real name is. It'sTheodore."

  "Theodore," repeated the girl. "Well, I'm glad to know it, for I neverdid like to call you Tode. How did you find out?"

  "Mr. Scott said it to me, and I knew as soon as I heard it that thatwas it."

  "Then I won't ever call you Tode again. I shall call you Theo. I likethat."

  The boy liked it too. It gave him a strange thrill of pleasure everytime he thought of what Mr. Scott had said about the meaning of hisname.