XVII. FINAL GLIMPSES
As the evenings lengthened, the club grew in favour among the boys ofthe neighbourhood, and often Mr. Scott wondered to see how Theodoresucceeded in maintaining good order and in keeping up the interest ofthe boys, without setting them against him. He was full of ingeniousideas for interesting them in something helpful, and, as he expressedit, "lifting 'em up a peg." He grew to be exceedingly popular in theneighbourhood that winter, but he never discovered the fact. He wastoo busy thinking of and for others, to think much about himself.
After a while he gave up all interest in his stand to Jimmy Hunt anddevoted himself wholly to his brass-polishing business. It outgrew hisown time and strength before the New Year, and then he hired boys towork for him, and he spent his time superintending their work andextending his list of employers. He paid the boys as liberally as hecould, but he would tolerate no loafing or careless work, so that atfirst he had some trouble in getting satisfactory assistants, but oncesecured, they seldom left his employ. The time came when he had along list of such employees, and when a large part of the brass workin the city was under his care--but this was later.
Nan and Little Brother did not come back to the city in thefall. Mr. Scott had never intended that they should if he couldprevent it.
Long before the summer was over, Nan had taken a daughter's place inMrs. Hyde's childless home and Little Brother had become the cherishedpet of the household. So warm and deep was the love given to them boththat even Nan's sensitive pride could not object to remaining therewhere she knew that she could give as much as she received in love andservice, and with a glad and grateful heart she abandoned all thoughtof returning to the city, and knew that she had at last found a realhome.
But she did not forget her older friend, Theodore, and she told hernew friends so much about him that they desired to see and know himalso. So it came about that one of her letters to him contained acordial invitation from Mrs. Hyde for him to spend Thanksgiving weekat her home.
Mr. Scott gladly agreed to attend to the club-room and to keep an eyeon the polishing business as far as he could, so Theodore accepted theinvitation and began to look forward with delight to seeing LittleBrother and Nan again.
He could hardly realise that it was he himself--poor TheodoreBryan--who, one bright November morning, sat in the swift-flying carand looked out on the autumn landscape on his way to spendThanksgiving as Mrs. Hyde's guest, and to see again the two whom heloved to call his "folks."
Thanksgiving reunion.]
As the train drew near the station at which he was to stop, Theowondered who would meet him. He hoped Nan would. Indeed, he felt surethat she would, for, of course, Mrs. Hyde would not know him any morethan he would know her.
So, as the cars ran along by the platform, he gazed eagerly out of thecar window, and he felt a little chill of disappointment because Nanwas nowhere in sight. There was a comfortable carriage in waiting forsomebody. He thought that it might be Mrs. Hyde's--but no, that couldnot be, either, for a big, rosy-cheeked laddie, with mischievous blueeyes, sat on the seat, flourishing a whip in true boyish fashion. Thatdidn't look much like heavy-eyed, white-lipped Little Brother, andthere was not a girl anywhere in sight, except a tall, handsome one ina beautiful grey suit, trimmed with fur. This girl stood near thecarriage and seemed to be watching for some one.
"I do wish Nan had come to meet me," Theo thought, as he stepped offthe train, and then the tall girl in the grey suit was looking eagerlyinto his face, with both hands outstretched, crying,
"Oh, Theo! How glad I am to see you!" and he was seated in thecarriage with that rosy-cheeked, merry-faced little laddie, betweenhim and Nan, before he fairly realised that this was Little Brother,grown well and strong, as even Nan had not dared hope he would do inso few months.
And he had not forgotten his old friend either--Little Brother hadnot,--or, if he had, he renewed the friendship very speedily, andduring Theo's stay the two were as inseparable as of old.
It was a happy week for Nan, for she could see how Theodore had beengrowing in the best ways during the months of their separation, andshe was not a bit disappointed in him, but proud to have her newfriends know him. And, as for the boy, it was a glimpse into a newlife for him--that week in a lovely Christian home. He made up hismind that, sometime, he would have just such a home of his own, and hewent back to the city well content to leave these two in such tenderhands and amid such delightful surroundings.
Through all the winter that followed, Theodore was busy andhappy. When the night-school began, he coaxed Mr. Hunt to take chargeof the clubroom, for Theodore wanted to learn and fit himself forbetter work by and by, and with such a purpose he made rapid progressin his studies.
But, busy as he was, he still found time for his Saturday evening workfor the florist, that he might continue his Sunday flower mission, forhe knew that those few blossoms were all of brightness and beauty thatever entered into some of those shut-in, poverty-pinched lives abouthim.
Then, at Christmas time, Mr. Scott and Mrs. Rawson and the King'sDaughters Circle helped him prepare a Christmas tree in the clubroom;a tree that bore a gift for every child and woman in the twohouses. The children almost went wild over that, the first Christmastree that many of them had ever seen; and then the eleven girls intheir pretty winter dresses served all the company with cake andcream.
Theodore was too happy and busy to eat his share, but that was allright, for Teddy Hunt had no trouble at all in disposing of twoportions.
When the last candle had ceased to glimmer among the green branches,and the last bit of cake and spoonful of cream had disappeared, thecompany slowly and lingeringly departed, already looking forward tojust such another Christmas three hundred and sixty-five dayslater. Then with many a "Merry Christmas" to Theodore, the girls andMrs. Rawson took their departure, and Mr. Scott followed them, onlystopping a moment, to say,
"We left your Christmas gift in your room, my boy. I hope you willlike it."
Wondering what his gift might be, the boy put out the lights andlocked the clubroom door and hurried down to his room, rememberingthen that his teacher had asked for his key earlier in the evening.
The key was in the door now, and there was a light in theroom. Theodore pushed open the door and then stopped short with a cryof delighted surprise, for he never would have recognised this as thebare little room he had left.
A neat rug covered the floor, fresh shades hung at the windows; awhite iron bedstead with fluffy mattress and fresh white bedding stoodwhere the old bedstead had been, and in place of the pine table andchairs were a neat oak bureau, and a washstand with toilet set andtowels, three good, comfortable chairs and a desk that made Theo'seyes shine with delight. But best of all was a picture that hung onthe wall facing the door--a picture of the bishop with that tenderlook in the eyes that the boy remembered so well.
On a card, slipped in the corner of the frame, was written,
"From Nan and Little Brother," and Theodore, as he looked and looked,felt that there was nothing left for him to desire.
He was still standing in the middle of the floor, gazing at thepicture, when there was a knock at the door and as he opened it inflocked the eleven girls with Mrs. Rawson and Mr. Scott behind them.
"Do you like it, Theodore?"
"We _couldn't_ go home till we saw you here," they exclaimed, andlaughed and chattered joyously when they saw that the boy was toopleased and delighted for any words, and then they went away withtheir own hearts full of the joy of giving, to write a circular letterto Nan telling her all about it.
After this the winter passed quietly to Theodore. He was well andstrong, and he was busy day and evening, and he was as happy a boy ascould be found in all that city.
And the weeks and months slipped away until two years had gone by, andit was time for Carrots to be released.
Theodore ascertained the day and hour when he would leave thepenitentiary and met him at the very gate with a warm and friendlygreeting,
and took him at once to his own room.
He searched the pale face of the boy, wondering whether there reallywas in it a change for the better, or not. It seemed to him lesssullen and more thoughtful than it had been two years before, but hewas not sure. Certainly, Carrots was very quiet. It seemed almost asif he had forgotten how to talk. He looked about Theo's neat,comfortable room, evidently noting the changes there, but he made nocomment.
Theodore had set out a table with a good supper for the two, andCarrots ate as if he enjoyed the food. When the meal was ended, heleaned back in his chair, and as he looked straight into Theodore'seyes, said slowly,
"What made ye do it, Tode?"
"Do what--bring you here to supper?"
"Yes, an' write all them letters to me, an'--an' everything?"
"Why, Carrots, it's this way. I served another fellow an' awful meantrick once, and I've been trying mighty hard to find him, and make itup to him, but I haven't found him yet, and so I've tried to do alittle for you instead of him--don't you see?"
Carrots nodded, and Theo fancied that he looked a little disappointed.
"Then 'twasn't really me you wanted to help?" he said, gravely.
"Yes, 'twas, too," answered Theo, quickly. "I'd have done what Icould for you, anyhow, Carrots, but I do _wish_ I could findhim," he added, sorrowfully.
"What's his name?" inquired Carrots.
"Jack Finney."
"What?" exclaimed the boy, staring at Theodore as if he could notbelieve his ears.
"Jack Finney," repeated Theo, wonderingly.
"Well, I never! Tode--_I'm_ Jack Finney."
"You?" cried Theodore, starting up excitedly. "You Mrs. Russell'sJack Finney?"
The boy nodded again. "I guess so. I was in her class in the missionschool."
Theo's face was all alight as he exclaimed, "Oh, Carrots--no, Jack,I'll never call you Carrots again--Jack, I'm too glad for anything!And now look here, Jack Finney, you've _got_ to be the right kindof a chap from this on. I won't let you go wrong. I _can't_ letyou go wrong, Jack. It--it seems as if it'll be all my fault if youdo."
And Jack, looking again straight into Theodore's eyes, answeredslowly, "I guess I've had 'bout enough o' crooked doin's. If you'llstand by me, I'll make a try on the other line, anyhow."
"I'll stand by you every time, Jack," cried Theodore, earnestly.
And he did, through months of alternate hope and discouragement, forJack did not find the upward road an easy one. There were the badhabits of years always pulling him down, and there were old companionsin evil ever ready to coax him back to their company, and more thanonce they succeeded for a while; but Theodore would not give him up,and in the end, the boy had his reward, for Jack Finney became hisfellow-soldier under the Great Captain, and his faithful helper in hisloving ministry among Christ's little ones.
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