Divided Skates

“That’s no matter. It’s but a house, after all’s said and done. A little bigger and nicer than we’re used to, but my father says folks are the same sort all the world round, and he knows. John Johns knows a heap. Come on. Just mind your manners, sharp.”

Thus beguiled, Towsley shuffled on his worn shoes after his more confident guide into a distant, sunny back parlor. There Miss Armacost had laid aside her hat and wrap and sat resting in an easy-chair. In its depths she looked even smaller and frailer than she had done out of doors, but also very much more determined and at home.

“Just like she’d been sitting in big chairs and giving orders all her life,” as Molly afterward expressed it.

“Did you want us, ma’am?”

“Yes, I did. You may sit down.”

“Thank you. Sit down, Towsley.”

Molly promptly availed herself of the permission given, while her admiring gaze roved over the apartment, but the shyer boy dared not seat himself upon any of those handsome satin-covered chairs. He slunk behind Molly, casting his eyes down and nervously twirling his cap. For, little vagrant though he was, his street life had already taught him that it was the correct thing for lads and men to bare the head in the presence of a lady.

Now he did not know that this one simple action on his part did more to interest Miss Lucy in him than an hour’s argument would have done. For the first time she observed that his hair was of a lovely color, as Molly had suggested, and that after a good shampooing it would be even beautiful in texture. From his hair to his eyes was not far; and the fleeting glimpses she caught of them, as they timidly uplifted, showed them a clear hazel. Long silky lashes swept the thin cheek and – but it’s better to go no further at present. There was too much soil of the street upon the rest of the little face to make it pleasing in Miss Lucy’s sight. Besides, her dainty nose already detected a peculiar odor, one unfamiliar to her home, and that in her mind she designated as the “poor smell.” Which was not surprising, since not even Molly could have told when Towsley’s ragged clothing had been cleansed by soap and water.

To relieve herself, as well as him, the lady pointed to a carved, wooden stool in the bay window, and Towsley went to it. The stool could be washed and thus purified after contact with the child’s dusty garments, as the satin chairs could not be.

Another servant came in and placed a silver tray upon a table. The tray bore a plate of fruit cake and some saucers of ice-cream; and at sight of these luxuries Towsley’s shyness almost disappeared. He was such a very hungry little boy. He always had been hungry, for the scraps which he picked up out of garbage barrels and at the back-doors of houses were not very satisfying. He began to stare at the food in a fascinated way that made Miss Lucy also stare, but at him. She had never seen just such a look on anybody’s face, and though it expressed greediness it did not shock her, as she felt it ought to do. Because it was so ill-bred!

Just then, while Towsley was watching the ice-cream begin to melt, the portiere was again lifted and the maid re-entered, leading a fat, fuzzy dog. She led him by a beautiful blue satin ribbon, and he blundered along in a haphazard sort of way that was exceedingly curious.

Molly’s gaze left the pictures on the walls to regard him.

“Why, what a funny creature! He is really almost as broad as he is long, and how he does wobble! What sort of a dog is he? What’s the matter with him? What – why – ”

Her questions died upon her lips, and they remained parted in surprise as she watched what followed. For the maid spread a white towel upon the carpet before the register and placed an exquisite saucer of finest china upon the towel. Into the saucer she ladled a generous helping of the cream, and seizing the poodle’s head with one vigorous hand thrust his black nose into the frozen mass.

Sir Christopher drew back his head and sneezed, then immediately sought to feel the cream again. His actions were so odd that Molly again demanded:

“What is the matter with him?”

“He is blind,” answered Miss Lucy sadly. “He is very old. Seventeen years last summer, and he has lost all his teeth. He suffers greatly with the rheumatism – ”

“So does father! He uses a liniment and it helps him. I might run and get you some. I’m sure mother would be glad to lend it to you. She is a real good neighbor, mother is. I never heard of a dog with the rheumatism, and – isn’t he funny? The funniest thing I’ve seen to-day! Does he always have his table set in that way? Won’t he break the saucer? He’s fumbling it all around, and he’s as stiff in his joints as father ever was the very worst day he’s had. I’ll run and get – ”

But Miss Armacost held up a protesting hand.

“Don’t trouble, I beg. Sir Christopher is past cure. Besides, I could not endure the odor of any liniment. He has had the best advice in the city. My own doctor has treated him, as a great favor, of course, and out of consideration for my feelings. But the case is hopeless. It is but a matter of time and – and we must part.”

“Why – why – he’s only a dog, isn’t he?” exclaimed the too frank girl from Side Street.

“Indeed! If he is, there are some dogs which are higher than some people. He has been my constant companion for seventeen years and – and – Mary, help that boy to some of that cream. His eyes will come out of his head if he stares at it much longer. Give him plenty, and a big slice of cake.”

“Yes, mistress; but he does look as if he’d enjoy his victuals better if his face was washed first.”

Poor Towsley! Only that terrible shyness, which again gripped him so that he turned all cold and shivery, prevented him making a dash for the door and liberty. The glances of both mistress and servant seemed to pierce him like knives; and he wished – oh! how he wished! – that he had never walked into that trap of a parlor to be scorned and talked at as if he were a wooden boy.

But Molly was nothing if not loyal, and she came to the rescue in fine style.

“No doubt he’d like his face clean same as another; but if a body doesn’t happen to have a bowl and towels handy, what is a body going to do? If we’d known we were coming to pay this visit I’d a had him in to our kitchen and scrubbed and combed him well. But we didn’t. We just met, out on the Avenue, and tried a skate together. That’s all. But it makes me think my fifteen minutes is more than up. I must go home right away. Mother’ll be displeased if I’m disobedient and overstay. So if you please, ma’am, I’ll be going.”

Again Miss Lucy lifted her white hand to stay proceedings.

“Wait, child. How impetuous you are! Mary, just step to this girl’s house and tell her mother where she is; also that I request the favor of her company for a short time. Assure Mrs. – What did you say your name was?”

“Johns, ma’am. Father’s John Johns, mother’s Mary. I’m Molly, then come the three J’s, and Sarah Jane – Never mind, though. You’d not be apt to remember or care. Shall I sit by Towsley? I think he’d feel more comfortable if I did.”

“Certainly, if you like. Please help yourself, since Mary has gone on my errand. No, I thank you. I do not care for any.”

Miss Armacost caught the astonishment in Towsley’s eyes as she thus indifferently declined ice-cream, and was amused by it. A whimsical impulse seized her to furnish the waif with all of the dainty which he could possibly consume, and satisfy his craving for one time, at least. In all her life she had never seen any person eat the cold stuff as he did. His mouth opened like a trap, a spoonful went into it, the mouth closed, reopened, another spoonful – no pause, no effort of swallowing, no lingering enjoyment of a delicious dish. She remarked:

“You like ice-cream, Towsley, I perceive.”

“Um’m.”

“Can’t you take time to answer properly?”

“Ye-e-m, but it’s – melt – ing,” jerked out the boy between dips. Yet the greediness was dying out of his face and a serene content taking its place. All unconsciously to their owner the boy’s feet began to swing themselves back and forth, occasionally hitting the base of the stool upon which he sat.

Miss Armacost did not know that this was a habit of all young children and a sign of material enjoyment; but she was just beginning to worry about her stool and the damage he would do it, when her attention was diverted to Sir Christopher.

He had licked feebly, and half disdainfully, at his own saucer of cream, then curled himself round upon the towel beside it. But he could not lie still. Up and down, around and about, he turned and twisted, and all the time emitting groans that clearly bespoke distress of some sort, and that his mistress fancied were almost human in tone.

“Why, my blessed doggie! What ails him, the dear? Is he sick? Does he ache all over? Tell Miss Lucy, Chrissy, tell what is wrong with her pet!”

“Why!” cried Molly, aghast. “Why! you talk to him just as mother does to Ivanora or Idelia! Does he understand you? Can he tell?”

“Yes. He understands. But there’s something seriously wrong with him. He was never so bad as this. Ring for one of the girls, child. Ring at once.”

Molly knew nothing about bells. In her own little home of six rooms there was no bell at all except one at the front door, and she looked around in some perplexity, wishing to obey but not knowing how.

“Stupid!” cried Miss Lucy, springing toward the wall and touching the button which sent an electric signal to the basement of the house; then, as Mary returned from her errand to Side Street, demanding anxiously:

“What have you been giving Sir Christopher?”

“Why, nothing, ma’am, but his regular food.”

“Did he take his oatmeal this morning as he should?”

“No, ma’am. He never takes it if he can help. He hates it; and when I tried to force him to-day, he was that sharp and snappish I was afraid. There’s a deal of hydrophobia about, I’m hearing.”

“Hydrophobia? Nonsense. What else has he had?”

“I really couldn’t say, ma’am.”

“Somebody must say. Call the cook.”

When Chloe’s black face showed in the parting of the door curtains Miss Lucy hurled her excited inquiries into the placid countenance.