Divided Skates

Robust and determined as the good physician was, he was almost overcome by the cold and the struggle through the unbroken drifts; while his whole person soon became so covered with the flying flakes that he looked like a great snow-man itself, suddenly made alive and set in motion. But the hope of easing pain gave him courage to persevere; and finally he came within a short distance of the great building whose dimly lighted windows made a dull redness through the storm.

“There she is, the blessed old house of comfort! Her wards are like to be full this night. And that was the very hardest walk I ever took. I hope, I pray, it has not been for nothing.”

Just then his foot stumbled against some half-buried obstruction, and stooping, the doctor touched the object with his hands.

“Oh! as I feared! A human being. A child – a boy. Overcome and maybe frozen. Poor little chap, poor little chap!”

Unbuttoning his overcoat the physician struck a match within the shelter of its flap, and by its flare scanned the small face from which he had brushed away the snow. Then he uttered another exclamation of surprise and lifting the little, rigid figure in his arms, folded his great-coat about it and started forward with renewed energy.

“Whatever is a child like this doing down here in this part of town? If it weren’t for his clothes I might think he was a newsboy headed for Newspaper Square, yonder; but newsboys don’t wear velvet attire, or hats with wide brims and drooping feathers, like a girl’s ‘picture’ headgear. Thank God, we’re almost there!”

On such a night, more than ever alert, the attendant at the door of the accident ward opened it wide to the slightest summons of the good doctor, who staggered into the light and warmth, shaking the snow from him in clouds and ordering:

“Promptest attention. Child overcome in the snow. Call nurse Brady. She’ll know.”

The nurse was instantly at hand, and received the new “case” from the attendant; while the physician took off his own snow-covered ulster and brushed the melting flakes from his beard. All the while his keen eyes were studying the child’s countenance and following his motionless figure as, with that haste which is never waste, the trained nurse carried it away toward the great ward where so many other “cases” were receiving the care which should save life.

Finding, by brief question and answer, that the patient he had come especially to see was neither better nor worse, Dr. Winthrop followed nurse Brady and her new charge; watching and directing as it seemed necessary, and finally announcing:

“I’ll have him put in a private room; this ward is so full already, and there’ll be more coming right along. A boy who wears velvet and feathers must belong to some rich family, who’ll gladly pay for every attention. Poor, little, bedraggled bird of paradise!”

So it happened that when Towsley opened his eyes, a few hours later, it was in a room whose comfort quite equalled that of the one from which he had fled, even though its furnishings were much plainer. And over his pillow leaned another woman wearing a snowy cap, far daintier in shape than had adorned Miss Lucy’s gray curls. There were no gleaming glasses shading the kindly eyes which regarded him, and no sternness in the lips that said slowly and gently:

“So my little patient is better. I am so glad of that.”

After a long, silent stare into nurse Brady’s face, Towsley asked:

“Be you? Where’s I at?”

“In a nice warm bed, all safe and sound, with a fine breakfast waiting for you.”

“Where’s it at, I say?”

“The hospital.”

“What for?”

“Because you must have been taking a little walk in the storm and got too tired to go very far. A kind man found you and brought you in here, and now if you’ll please drink this hot soup you’ll feel as fine as a fiddler!”

“Humph. I can fiddle – some, myself. Is the pie all gone? Oh! I mean – I – I – my head’s funny.”

“That will come right enough when you set your empty stomach to work. Afterward you will tell me your name and where you live, and I’ll send for your people. But the soup first.”

Towsley sat up against the nurse’s arm and obediently drank all the broth she offered him, even to the last drop. Then he lay back with a sigh of deep content and fell into a sound, refreshing sleep. When he awoke again the pretty nurse was gone and in her chair sat a gentleman gazing at him with a curious sort of stare, as if Towsley were some new kind of animal in whom the stranger was interested.

The stare nettled Towsley, who felt strangely cross and irritable. He knew he was saucy, but he couldn’t help making a little grimace of disgust and demanding:

“Think you’ll know me next time you see me, governor?”

“I certainly hope so. That’s why I’m studying your face. Hm’m. I see you are decidedly better. Quite all right, in fact. Feeling prime, aren’t you? Ready to run away again?”

“What you mean? How did you know I ran away?”

“By your clothes. A little lad who wears velvet blouses and fine hats had no business away from his home in such a storm as we have had. Now, your people will probably have grieved themselves ill about you, and you’re to tell me your name and address at once, so I can send them word where you are. The storm is over and people are beginning to get about again. The street cars should be running by to-morrow, as usual.”

Towsley regarded the gentleman wistfully for a moment; then cried out, impatiently:

“I’ll bet the fellows got a beat on me!”

“Eh? What?”

“Have the ‘lines’ been tied up? I thought they was goin’ to be, last night.”

“Eh! What? What do you know about ‘lines,’ and ‘beats,’ and such matters?”

“Well, I guess I know as much as the next one,” answered the lad proudly. “Ain’t I been on the ’Xpress since I was so high?” measuring a short space between his thin, and now – thanks to nurse Brady’s attention – very white little hands.

“The dickens you have! Then why were you masquerading in borrowed plumes, my lad? Your story and your clothing don’t agree. What is your name? Give it right, now, mind.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I ain’t ashamed of it, if it isn’t pretty. I’m Towsley. Towsley Towhead, some the Alley folks call me. I’m one the boys on the ’Xpress. That’s who I am, and I can sell more’n any other fellow of my size on the whole force.”

“I believe it. You look as sharp as a razor. But let’s keep to facts. You tacitly admitted that you ran away, and your velvet attire is certainly against you!”

There was something both whimsical and kindly in the doctor’s expression, and Towsley’s confidence was won.

“Don’t you s’pose I know that? Don’t you s’pose I reckoned I was a guy; and that all the fellows would laugh at me when they saw me? But I couldn’t help it, could I? That old black man took my own clothes away and left these, and I couldn’t go out without any, could I? She was a nice old lady and her pie was good. Pretty good, I mean. But she wasn’t going to catch Towsley and adopt him, not if he could help himself! No, siree! So I waited till everybody was asleep, then I lit out.”

“Smart boy! Tell me the whole story; from start to finish.”

“Say, you tell me, first. Was I half dead in the snow? Did you find me and fetch me here, like I heard them say? ’Cause if you did, I – I – I’d like to do something back for you, yourself.”

“Oh! that’s all right, my lad. You’ll have a chance. Don’t fear.”

“What do you mean, sir? What can I do?” asked Towsley eagerly.

“Did you ever hear, as you went along the street, somebody start humming or whistling a tune? any kind of a tune, but a catchy one the best. In a little while you’ll hear another person pick it up and hum or whistle, just the same way; so on, till nobody knows how many have caught and heard the wandering melody and passed it onward through a crowd. Did you ever notice anything like that?”

“Heaps of times. I’ve done it myself. Started it or picked it up, either.”

“Well, that’s like kindness. Pick it up, pass it along. Let everybody who hears it, catch on; understand? So, that’s what I mean. You may never have a chance to do anything especially for me – and you may have dozens; but that doesn’t matter. Keep it moving. The first time you have an opportunity to be decent to somebody else, why – just be decent, and say to yourself: ‘That’s because the doctor picked me out of a snow-drift.’ The Lord will keep the account all straight, and settle it in His own good time. We don’t have to worry about that part, fortunately; else our spiritual book-keeping would get sadly mixed.”

They were both silent for a brief while, and the words made a deep impression upon Towsley’s heart; a warm and gentle heart at all times, though not always a wise one in its judgments.

“Well, my boy. I’m waiting for your story, and I’m a pretty busy man. Along about time for giving out the papers you wouldn’t care to be hindered needlessly, would you?”

A brilliant smile broke over the sharp little face upon the pillow.

“No, I wouldn’t, and you don’t. Well, here it is;” and very briefly, but graphically, the alley vagrant sketched the story of his acquaintance with Miss Armacost and his flight from her house.