A Sunny Little Lass

“Know anybody would take in the old man’s few traps and take care of them till something develops?” continued the landlord. “He is dead, of course. Must have been him was run over that time; but they might sell for a trifle for the child’s benefit. I wouldn’t mind having that time-keeping arrangement of bells myself. Was really quite ingenious. I might as well take it, I reckon, on account of loss of occupancy. Yes, I will take it. And if he should return–but he won’t–you tell him, my good woman, how it was and he can look to me to settle. Know anybody has room for his things?”

“No, I don’t. An’ if I did, I wouldn’t tell ye,” answered Meg, testily, and as a relief to her indignation cuffed her youngest born in lieu of him upon whom she wished she dared bestow the correction.

But the corner grocery-man was more obliging and better supplied with accommodations for Captain Beck’s belongings. In truth, seeing that the landlord was determined, whether or no, to remove them from the littlest house, he felt that he must take them in and preserve them from harm against their owner’s claiming them. He thought, with Meg, that harm had certainly befallen the blind seaman and that they would see him no more, but he also felt that Glory’s rights should be protected to the utmost. With this idea in mind, he stoutly objected to parting with the bell-timepiece, and even offered to make up any arrears of rent which the other could rightly claim.

“Oh! that’s all right,” said the landlord, huffishly. “That can rest, but I wish you’d call a cart and get the traps out now, while I’m here to superintend.”

“I’m with you!” cried the grocer, with equal spirit; and so fully fell in with the other’s wishes that, before Glory had been an hour absent from the only home she could remember, it had been emptied of its few, but well loved, furnishings and the key had been turned upon its solitude. Thus ended, too, Nick’s brief brilliant dream of household proprietorship.

However, all this fresh trouble was unknown. Whither her “Angel” led, she was to follow; and this proved to be in wholly a different direction from that dark end of the Lane toward the bridge.

For a time the small, unconscious guide toddled along, making slow progress toward the sound of a hand-organ which her ear had caught yet which was still out of sight. Arrived, they joined the group of children gathered about the grinder and his monkey, and created a profound sensation among the gutter audience.

“Where’d you get her? Whose she belongs?” demanded one big girl who knew Glory and found this white-clad stranger more interesting than even a monkey.

“Belongs to me. She’s mine; she was sent,” returned Take-a-Stitch, with an inimitable gesture of pride.

“Huh! Talk’s cheap. Nobody sent silk-dressed young ones to the Lane to be took care of, Glory Beck. I don’t care, though. Keep her, if ye want to,” returned the offended questioner.

“Sure I shall,” laughed Glory, gaily. “But needn’t get mad, Nancy Smith. Maybe you can get one, too. She’s my ‘Guardian Angel’ an’ her name’s ‘Bonny’; she said so. She don’t talk much, only that ‘Bonny come.’ Did you know ‘Angels’ was so perfeckly lovely, Nancy?”

Clasping her hands, this proud proprietor of an “Angel” smiled beatifically on all around. Even the organ-grinder came in for a portion of that smile, though hitherto, Glory had rather disliked him because she fancied him unkind to Jocko.

This organ-grinder was Luigi Salvatore, brother to Tonio, and as well known in that locality. His amazement at seeing the child in the goober seller’s care caused him to stop grinding; whereupon the music also stopped and the monkey left off holding his cap to the children, begging their pennies, to hop upon his master’s shoulder. From thence he grinned so maliciously that the “Angel” was frightened and hid her face in Glory’s skirt, whereupon that proud girl realized that “Angels,” if young, were exactly like human young things and needed comforting. Many an Elbow baby had learned to flee for help to Glory’s arms, and now this stranger was lifted in them and clasped closer than any other had ever been.

“Oh, you sweetest, dearest Bonny Angel! Don’t you be afraid. Glory’ll take care of ye. Don’t they have monkeys where you lived, honey? S’pose not, less you’d ha’ knowed they wouldn’t hurt. Well, now, on we go. Which way is to grandpa, Bonny Angel?”

The tiny face burrowing under Glory’s chin was partially turned and the babyish hand pointed outward in a very imperative way. Glory construed that she must travel in the direction indicated and, also, that even “Angels” liked their commands to be immediately obeyed. For when she lingered a moment to exchange compliments with Nancy, on the subject of “stuck-up-ness” and general “top-loftiness,” Miss Bonny brought these amenities to a sudden close by a smart slap on Glory’s lips and a lusty kick in the direction she wished to be carried.

Fortunately, Take-a-Stitch had never thought how “Angels” should behave, else she might have been disappointed. As it was, the child at once became dearer and more her girlish proprietor’s “very own” because in just this manner might Meg’s youngest have kicked and slapped.

“Huh! Call that a ‘Angel’ do ye, Glory Beck? ’Tis no such thing. It’s only somebody’s baby what’s got lost. Angels are folks what live in heaven, an’ they never kick ner scratch ner ask to be carried. They don’t need. All they have to do is to set still an’ sing an’ flap their wings. Huh! I know.”

Nancy spoke with the conviction of an eyewitness, and for a time her playmate was silenced. Then, as Bonny had now grown quiet and gave her an opportunity, Glory demanded:

“How can you know? You hain’t never been there. Nobody hasn’t. An’ you go ask Meg-Laundress. Good-bye. Don’t be mad. I’ll be home bime-by, an’ Bonny Angel with me. She’s come to stay. She belongs, same’s all of us. She’s a reg’lar Elbower, ’now an’ forevermore,’ like we say in the ring-game; an’ some time, maybe, if she wants, I’ll let her ‘Guardian’ you somewhere. Now we’re off to grandpa, but we’ll be back after a while. Good-bye. Maybe Toni’ll let you peddle goobers in my place the rest the day. Good-bye.”

Bonny Angel, as she was from that time to be called by her new friend, was again gurgling and smiling and gaily radiant; and for some distance Glory sped along, equally radiant and wholly engrossed in watching the little face so near her own. It was, indeed, perfect in its infantile beauty and more than one passer-by paused to take a second glance at this odd pair, so unlike, and yet so well content.

After a short while, the aching of her arms made Glory realize that even infant “Angels” may become intolerably heavy, when clothed in healthy human form and carried indefinitely, so she set the little one down on its own small feet, though they seemed too dainty to rest upon the smirched stones of the pavement which just there was even more begrimed than that of the Lane itself.

Then she saw that they had halted beside a coal-yard in an unfamiliar part of the city, but there were throngs of people hurrying past them toward some point beyond, and though many observed, none paused to address the children. Bonny was now rested and active and merrily started in the same direction, across the gangplank to the floor of a crowded ferry-boat. The ferry-men supposed them to belong to some older passengers and let them pass unchallenged; nor did Bonny Angel cease her resolute urging forward till they had come to the very edge of the further deck and stood looking down into the river.

Almost at once, the boat began to move and Glory was as delighted as Bonny by the rush of the wind on her face and by the novel sights of the water. After all, this search for grandpa was proving the pleasantest of outings, for, though the goober-seller had often peddled her nuts at the landings of other ferries, she had never before crossed any. She gave the baby a fresh deluge of kisses, exclaiming, “Oh, you dear knowin’ darlin’! He has gone this way an’ you’re leadin’ me!”

“Bonny come!” cried the “Angel,” with a seraphic smile.

Glory smiled back, all anxiety at rest. She was going to grandpa, with this tiny “Guardian” an unerring guide. Why should one fear aught while the sun shone so brightly, and over on the further shore she could see trees waving and green terraces rising one above the other? Surely, grandpa had done well to leave the dingy Lane for such a beautiful place, and she was glad, yes, certainly she was glad that she had come.

But the boat trip came to an end all too soon, and, because they were so near the landing side, they were crowded off the broad deck before Glory was quite ready and, in the onrush of hurrying passengers, Bonny Angel’s hand was wrested from her grasp.

“Oh, take care there, my Angel! I mustn’t lose her!” cried Take-a-Stitch, distraught at seeing her treasure swept off her tiny feet in the crush.

“In course you mustn’t, sissy!” cried a hearty, kindly voice, as a timely deck-hand caught up the child and restored her to Glory’s arms. “’Course not; though there’s many a one would snap at such a beauty, if you give ’em a chance. Tight-hold her, sissy, for such posies as her don’t grow on every bush!”

With that, the man in blue shirt and overalls not only gave Bonny a besmirching pat on her snowy shoulder, but safely handed Glory herself across the swaying plank to the quay beyond.

There Bonny Angel composedly seated herself upon a pile of dirty ropes and, rather than cross her desires, Glory also sat down. Both were much interested in the scene about them, though “Angel” soon forgot all else save Bo’sn who had followed, and who lay at her feet to rest his nose on his tired paws while he steadfastly gazed at this new charge. Already he seemed to have decided in his canine mind that she was to be guided and guarded as he had guided and guarded his lost master, and with an equal faithfulness.

Soon the rush and bustle of the boat’s return trip gave way to a corresponding quiet, and Goober Glory dreamily watched the wide deck, where she had stood, slip back and back between the water-worn piles out upon the murky river. The space between them widened and widened, continually, till the boat lessened in size to a mere point and, finally, became lost in the crowding craft of the Hudson’s mouth. As she saw it disappear, a sudden homesickness seized her and, springing to her feet, she stretched her arms longingly toward that further side which held all that she had ever known and loved, and cried aloud:

“Oh, I want to go back! It’s there I belong, and he isn’t here–I know he isn’t here!”

Then she felt a small hand clutch her skirt and turned about to see Bonny Angel’s face clouding with grief and her dainty under lip beginning to quiver piteously. A world of reproach seemed to dwell in her pleading, “Bonny come!” and Glory’s own cheerfulness instantly returned. Lifting the child again, she poised her on her own shoulder and started valiantly forward across the ferry-slip and past the various stands of the small merchants which lined the waiting-room walls. Thus elevated, Bonny Angel was just upon a level with one tempting display of cakes and candies, and the sight of them reminded her that it was time to eat. She took her arm from Glory’s neck, to which she had clung, made an unexpected dash for a heap of red confections, lost her balance, and fell head long in the midst.

CHAPTER IX

In the Ferry-House

Then up rose the old woman behind the stand, ready with tongue and fist to punish this destroyer of her stock; for the truth was that Miss Bonny was not an “Angel” at all, but what Nancy Smith had so common-sensibly judged her to be–a lost child. Such a plump and substantial child, as well, that her downfall crushed to a crimson flood the red “drops” she would have seized and utterly demolished another pile of perishable cakes.

“Save us and help us! You clumsy girl! What you mean, hurlin’ that young one onto my stand, that way? Well, you’ve spoiled a power of stuff an’ I only hope you can pay for it on the spot!”

With that, the irate vendor snatched Bonny from the stand and dropped her upon the floor beyond it; where, terrified both by her fall and this rough treatment, she set up such a wail that further scolding was prevented. More than that, instead of being properly abashed by her own carelessness, Glory was far more concerned that Bonny’s beautiful coat was stained and ruined and its owner’s heart so grieved. Down she dropped beside her “Guardian,” showering kisses upon her, and comforting her so tenderly that the baby forgot her fear and began to lick the sticky fluid, which had filled the “drops,” from her sleeve that it had smeared.

This restored quiet so that the vender could demand payment for the damage she had swiftly estimated, and she thrust her hand toward the pair on the floor, saying, “Hand me over a dollar, and be quick about it! Ought to be more, seein’s it’ll take me half a day to straighten up and – ”

“A dollar! Why–why, I never had so much in my hull life! an’ not a single cent now. Yes–they’s a quarter to home, ’t I forgot an’ left in the bag, that Nick Dodd give me–but–a dollar!” gasped poor Glory, as frightened as surprised. Just then, too, a wharf policeman drew near and stopped to learn what was amiss. He did not look like the jolly officer of Elbow Lane and the stand-woman seemed sure of his sympathy as she rapidly related her side of the story.

He listened in silence, and visions of patrol wagons, and the police stations where arrested persons were confined, rose before poor Glory’s fancy, while with frantic tenderness she hugged Bonny Angel so close that the little one protested and wriggled herself free. But no sooner was she upon her feet than the child became her own best plea for pardon. Reaching her arms upward to be lifted, she began a delighted examination of the brass buttons on the man’s blue coat; and, because he had babies of his own, it seemed the natural thing for him to do to take her up as she desired.

“Oh, but you mustn’t, you dastn’t carry her away! She hain’t done a thing, only tumbled off my shoulder! ’Twas me done it, not holdin’ her tight enough! An’ she can’t be ’rested, she can’t! How can she, when she’s a ‘Guardian Angel’? Give her back–give her back!”

In her distress, Take-a-Stitch herself laid violent hands upon the blue sleeves which so strongly enfolded her darling and would have wrested them apart had strength sufficed. As it was, the helmeted officer looked calmly down upon her anguished face and quietly whistled.

“Keep cool, sissy, keep cool. Wait till I hear your side the business before you talk of arrests. Besides, this baby! Why, she’s the prettiest little innocent I’ve seen in a week’s beat,” said the rough voice, and now regarding the lips through which it issued, the young “Elbower” perceived that they were no longer stern but actually smiling.

Then she did talk; not only of this last adventure but, encouraged by his close attention, of all the events of her past life. Out it came, the whole story; Glory’s love of the Lane and its people, her grandfather’s disappearance, the coming of Bonny Angel, “sent to take his place an’ help to find him,” her present search and her honest regret for the injury to this old woman’s wares.

“’Cause I know how ’tis myself. Onct a lady fell into my goober basket an’ smashed ’em so ’t I was heart-broke. An’ if ever–ever in this world I can earn a hull dollar I’ll come right straight back here an’ pay it. Sure, sure, sure.”

Now, during all this relation, though the policeman’s face seemed to soften and grow more like that of his brother-officer of Elbow Lane, it did not grow less grave. Indeed, a great perplexity came into his eyes and he appeared to be far more interested in the fate of Bonny Angel than in the voluble interruptions of Apple Kate. When Glory paused, out of breath and with no more to tell, he set the little one down and took out his note-book. Having made some entries there, he exchanged a few low-spoken words with the vender and these appeared to quiet her wrath and silence her demands. Indeed, their influence was so powerful that she selected a pile of the broken cakes, put them into a paper bag, and offered them to Take-a-Stitch, saying:

“There, girl, it’s all right, or will be, soon’s officer finds that young one’s folks. It’s past noon, nigh on toward night, an’ likely she was hungry, too little to know any better, and you can have part yourself. You just do what he tells ye, an’ you’ll soon see that baby back in its mother’s arms. Laws, how heart-broke she must be a-losin’ it so.”

Goober Glory heard and felt that her own heart was surely breaking. Bonny Angel’s “folks”! She had some, then, since this policeman said so–policemen knew everything–and she wasn’t a heaven-sent “Guardian,” at all. And, furthermore, if this was a “lost child,” she knew exactly what would be done.

It would be the station house, after all, though not by way of arrest. Meg-Laundress’s assorted children had been “lost” on the city streets more than once and Meg hadn’t fretted a bit. She knew well, that when her day’s toil was over, she had but to visit the nearest station to reclaim her missing offspring; or if not at the nearest, why then at some other similar place in the great town, whence a telephone message would promptly summon the child. But Bonny Angel? Station house matrons were kind enough, and their temporary care of her brood had been a relief to overworked Meg-Laundress; but for this beautiful “Guardian,” they were all unfit. Only tenderest love should ever come near so angelic a little creature and of such love Glory’s own heart was full.