CHAPTER XVI.
THE COUPON.
Mrs. Bartlett had not yet called the boys to breakfast, when Master Foss and his companions of the previous day arrived at the court to escort Josiah to the ferry where he was to meet his father.
“You see, I was ’fraid you fellers might take Josiah off where we couldn’t find you, if we waited much longer,” Bill said when Tom explained why he could not invite the party into the house.
“But he ain’t thinkin’ of goin’ home till night,” Master Bartlett replied in surprise.
“I know that; but we wanter go down to the ferry with him. You know a lot of us are countin’ on visitin’ his farm next summer, an’ it won’t do any harm if we see the old man.”
“But look here, Bill, you mustn’t foller us ’round all day, for I don’t b’lieve Mr. Shindle would like it.”
“Oh, we don’t ’low to do that. Jest wanter get ’quainted with the farmer. We’ll take a sneak when you come ’cross the ferry.”
“All right. Wait here, an’ as soon’s breakfast is over we’ll be down.”
Then Tom re-entered the house without telling Josiah of the escort which had arrived.
The boy from Berry’s Corner was deeply engaged in packing the well-worn valise, and counting his money in order to see how much he might spend in purchasing the presents for his father and mother.
He was happier now than he had been on the Monday morning previous; for, although charmed to a certain degree with the city, he preferred to live in the country, and was decidedly impatient to be at Berry’s Corner again, where there would be no danger of another arrest.
Life in New York no longer had any charms for him. He had seen Bob and Tom at work, and felt certain that next summer when called upon to weed the long rows of carrots, the task would seem less laborious as compared with theirs, and decidedly more pleasant.
The city was so big, the throngs of people on the street so intent on their own business without apparently being able to bestow a thought upon others, and the noise so wearying and bewildering, that it would be very pleasant to stand once more by the side of the long, dusty road which stretched away in the distance, like a yellow ribbon between the green and nodding trees.
Fishing for chubs in the laughing, sparkling brook was much more delightful than peering through the shop windows at things which he wanted but could not purchase, and romping in the back pasture with Towser was more like sport than an hour spent on the street in the vicinity of Baker’s Court.
In addition to his desire to be at home once more, was the fact that when his father arrived a certain scheme, to which he had given no slight amount of thought, might possibly be put into execution.
Therefore his heart was very light when, with valise in hand, he entered the stuffy kitchen of Mrs. Bartlett’s home for the last time.
After the meal came to an end, Bob said laughingly, as he went toward the window:—
“Look out here.”
Josiah obeyed, and saw ranged either side of the court, in true military precision, ten boys headed by Master Foss, all of them standing with their eyes fixed upon the door of the building.
“What are they doin’ here?” Josiah asked in surprise. “Bill don’t think that we’ve got time to go anywhere with him, does he?”
“Oh, no, he’s only come to ’scort you down to the ferry in style.”
Josiah looked distressed.
Since his experience in the station-house he did not wish to attract any more attention than was absolutely necessary, and was eager only to meet his father in the quietest possible manner.
“I think it would be a good deal better if we should go alone,” he said after a long pause.
“So do I; but there don’t seem to be any way out of it. Bill is reckonin’ on doin’ this thing in great shape, an’ I s’pose we’ll have to let him run it, ’less you’re willin’ to tell him right up an’ up that we oughter go alone.”
“I wouldn’t like to do that,” Josiah replied slowly.
“Neither would I.”
“What’er we goin’ to do ’bout it?”
“You’d better go down, an’ see what he’s got to say. P’rhaps there’ll be some way outer it.”
Josiah, followed by Tom and Bob, descended to the court, and instantly the former appeared, a loud shout went up from the escort, thus showing what they were prepared to do when Mr. Shindle should arrive.
“Well, what do you think of it?” Bill asked proudly, as he approached Josiah.
“Think of what?”
“This crowd. I reckon your father’ll be ’bout tickled to death when we give three cheers the minute he steps off the cars. Folks’ll think he’s the Governor by the time we get through yellin’.”
“But I don’t b’lieve the people at the station will want you screechin’ ’round there.”
“They’ll have to be mighty smart if they can stop us after we once get started. I’ve figgered the whole thing out, same’s it’s done when a politician comes inter town, an’ you needn’t be ’fraid but we’ll do it right up in style.”
“See here, Bill, what makes you do so?” Josiah asked almost piteously, not feeling exactly at liberty to put a decided veto upon the scheme.
“What makes me? Why, we’re countin’ on comin’ up to your farm next summer, an’ wanter make it lively now for your father, so’s he’ll be glad to see us when we get there.”
“I’m ’fraid mother hasn’t got beds enough for all hands.”
“That don’t make a mite of difference; we’re willin’ to sleep on the hay, or anywhere. Tom acted as if he thought we counted on follerin’ you ’round town; but of course we wouldn’t do a thing like that. We’ll jest start the old man in right, an’ then he an’ you can go wherever you wanter; but we’re bound to see him first.”
It surely seemed as if this settled the matter, so far as Master Shindle was concerned. If Bill was “bound” to carry out the programme he had arranged, then it would be but a waste of words to remonstrate with him, and Josiah remained silent.
“You’ll have to let ’em go,” Bob whispered, and the young gentleman from Berry’s Corner nodded his head with an air of resignation.
“I don’t think you’d better do any yellin’,” Tom said after a pause. “You see, Bill, some of them fellers at the station might kick up a fuss, an’ it wouldn’t look well if you should get ’rested the very minute Mr. Shindle struck the city, ’cause then there wouldn’t be any chance of gettin’ ’quainted with him.”
“I’ll risk their catchin’ me,” Master Foss replied boldly; but it was evident that the suggestion had aroused a certain train of thought which might result in the abandonment of at least a portion of the reception ceremonies.
By this time the escort had cast aside their martial bearing, and all were clustered around Josiah, urging him to leave the court as soon as possible.
“You see, there may be a block down on Broadway, an’ it’ll take us quite a while to get along, ’cause we’re goin’ to march reg’lar, same’s soldiers do,” one of the party suggested, and the visitor felt decidedly embarrassed at being made thus conspicuous.
“I reckon it’ll have to be done, an’ we might as well have it over with at once,” Tom whispered, and the company set out in the order prescribed by Master Foss.
Josiah walked arm in arm with Tom and Bob, while on either side were five of the escort, with Bill leading, and turning now and then to make certain his men were in proper line.
It had been the intention of the Master of Ceremonies to conduct his party through the streets; but before they had proceeded two blocks, its military formation was broken up, owing to the recklessness of the driver of a dray, and then he concluded it would be quite as well to march on the sidewalk, even though the pedestrians were inconvenienced thereby.
Josiah did not enjoy what Bill had arranged as a triumphal procession for the boy whose guest he intended to be during the following summer; but when seeing that they attracted no slight amount of attention, Tom and Bob concluded Master Foss’s idea was a thoroughly good one.
That Bill did not intend to do things in any slipshod fashion, was shown by the fact that he bought ferry tickets for the entire party, regardless of the expense, and once on the Jersey City side of the river, ranged his followers in two ranks in front of the gate through which Mr. Shindle must emerge.
Fully an hour did Josiah and his many friends remain at the station; and after this long, weary time of waiting, Farmer Shindle, dressed in his best clothes, and looking as radiant as a boy with a ticket for the circus, stepped from the cars to be greeted more than warmly by his son.
“Well, well, well, and are you ready to go home?” the farmer asked, as if in surprise that the heir of the Shindle estate should show so much joy when his visit was about to come to an end.
“Yes indeed, father.”
“Why, what’s the matter? Haven’t you had a tolerably good time?”
“Splendid! I’ve seen everything I ever heard about, an’ a good deal more; but I ain’t sorry to go back to you, an’ mother, an’ the calf, an’ Towser.”
“Well, well, well, now I’m glad to hear that,” and Farmer Shindle laid his hand affectionately on Josiah’s shoulder. “I feered you’d be wantin’ to stay all winter, an’ that would have pretty nigh broke me up. But here’s Tom and Bob,” and the good man turned to shake hands with the representatives of Baker’s Court as he looked at them critically, and added, “You’ve lost that healthy coat of tan you got out to Berry’s Corner last summer, boys. Next year I reckon we’ll have to make farmers of both you little rascals, an’ then you won’t be layin’ ’round this dreadful wicked city lookin’ as peaked as sick chickens. But say, Josiah, does all this crowd belong to you?”
On hearing himself thus referred to, Bill Foss stepped quickly forward, and Josiah introduced him by saying:—
“This is a friend of Tom’s and Bob’s, father. He’s been ’round with us a good deal, an’ come down so’s to make it kinder lively for you.”
“Yes, sir, an’ I brought them fellers with me,” Bill said as he pointed to the escort. “You see, we didn’t want you to land here without there was a reg’lar delegation to take care of you.”
“Bless my soul!” the farmer exclaimed, as he looked at the two lines of boys, who were standing stiff as statues now they were being inspected. “There wasn’t any need of makin’ a splurge for me, ’cause you see I’m only a plain old farmer, an’ wouldn’t know how to act if there was too much goin’ on.”
“But this thing had to be done,” Bill explained, scowling furiously at a boy in the escort who chanced to step out of the line for an instant in order to save himself from being run over by a dray. “We’re comin’ out to see you next summer, you know, an’ it seems like we oughter get ’quainted first.”
“Comin’ out to the farm, eh?”
“That’s what we ’low to do,” Bill replied decidedly.
“The whole crowd?”
“Yes sir’ee; we’ve ’greed to save up cash enough to buy tickets for all hands.”
“Well,” Farmer Shindle said hesitatingly, “there’ll be plenty of room for you daytimes, an’ I reckon we’ll manage to have all you can eat; but I don’t know as to stowin’ you away at night. We’ll have to talk with mother ’bout that.”
“Don’t you worry for us,” Bill replied without hesitation. “We’ll fix ourselves, an’ all you’ve got to do is to have the farm right where it was when Tom an’ Bob was out there.”
“Did you invite all these boys to visit with you, Josiah?” the farmer asked in a whisper; and, in the fewest possible words, his son explained the situation of affairs.
“Oh, that’s it, eh? Well, I wouldn’t like to begrudge anything to these poor children who don’t ever have a chance to get a breath of pure air; but at the same time, I ain’t sure as it would be treatin’ mother jest right to have all of ’em pilin’ in on her in such a load.”
Bill waited until the whispered conversation had come to an end, and then said in a confidential tone to Josiah:—
“I reckon you had better go now, ’cause you’ll wanter see your father; but we’ll meet you agin before the train leaves.”
“I guess that would be the best way,” the boy replied, thoroughly relieved at the prospect of parting with the escort.
“We ain’t goin’ to lose sight of you, Mr. Shindle,” Bill said to the farmer; “but we’ve got a little business over on this side of the river, an’ will turn up agin to-night. You’ll get along without us, ’cause Tom and Bob can put you ’round.”
“I reckon we shall get through all right,” the farmer replied with a laugh, and Bill gave the word of command to take up the line of march in a very loud voice.
Josiah was more than willing to part with these acquaintances; and after watching Bill and his friends until they had passed through the gate to the street, he turned to his father.
It was some moments before Mr. Shindle was ready to go on board the ferry-boat, because of the questions which Tom and Bob thought necessary to ask concerning the farm, and when they were seated on the steamer where Josiah could talk unreservedly, owing to the fact that his friends were, perforce, some distance away, he asked seriously:—
“Does it cost much to keep a boy or a girl about my age?”
“Well, now, that depends,” the farmer replied as he rubbed his chin reflectively; “if they were to be kept the year ’round, I reckon what they’d take from the table wouldn’t be missed; but when it comes to fillin’ ’em up for a week, they get away with an amazin’ power of vittles—not that I begrudge what a person eats at our house, though,” he added quickly.
“Would it cost a great deal to keep a child like me?”
“That depends. You never was a careful boy with shoe-leather, Josiah, an’ don’t take so kindly to work as I wish you did. Now, them Berry youngsters will stay in the field all day long with never a whimper; but you no sooner weed two or three rows than you’re done, and want to skylark in the woods, catchin’ turtles, or somethin’ like that. There’s a good many times that a boy’s a heap of trouble, even if you don’t count the expense.”
“I’m talkin’ of a girl, father.”
Up to this moment Farmer Shindle probably thought the questions were asked from motives of curiosity; and now the good man turned squarely around in his seat as he looked at the boy earnestly, and asked:—
“What have you got in your head, Josiah?”
This was not exactly the time when Master Shindle intended to present the story of the match-girl. He had expected to bring his father gradually up to the point where he could propose, without exciting too much astonishment, that she be invited to the farm for a long visit.
It was not possible to further prepare him for what was coming, however, and he plunged boldly into the matter by telling all he knew about the child who sold matches on Chatham Square.
Very pathetically he described her lonely life and home, with no one but a drunken woman to care for her; the pinched, wan face, and the hardships necessarily endured while trying to earn a livelihood on the streets during the winter season, until, from the varying expression of his father’s features, Josiah knew he had excited sympathy, if nothing more.
The good man wiped his forehead vigorously as if excessively warm, and said in a tone of mingled bewilderment and regret:—
“I wish you hadn’t told me this, Josiah, till you had talked with mother. I was countin’ on seein’ a good bit of the city to-day; but somehow your story has taken all the fun outer me.”
“Why not carry her home with us, father? If mother isn’t willin’ she needn’t stay any longer’n Tom an’ Bob did, an’ the poor little thing will be jest so much the better for havin’ a chance to live two or three days like decent folks.”
“But there’s the expense of takin’ her back an’ forth, ’Siah. Don’t forget that, for your mother won’t.”
“I’ve got enough to pay for the ticket. I was goin’ to buy you an’ mother somethin’; but I know you’d be willin’ to get along without the presents for the sake of givin’ her a good time.”
Farmer Shindle was so deeply engaged with his thoughts that he made no reply to this last suggestion of his son’s, until the ferry-boat touched the slip with a shock which caused him considerable alarm, and as the young gentlemen from Baker’s Court led the way to the street, he said:—
“Let’s go right up an’ see that girl. If she wants to go out to the farm for a week, an’ you’re willin’ to pay the fares, I don’t see as there’s any reason for sayin’ no. Mother can’t be very much opposed to it, ’cause the harvestin’s over, the apples are dried, an’ she’s through preservin’. I’ll risk it anyhow.”
This was as much as Josiah had dared to hope for, and now had come the time when he could tell Tom and Bob of the plan.
“Well, that’s what I call a big thing,” Master Green said in a tone of approbation. “It’s goin’ to be tough on Sadie to stay out-doors all winter jest to earn what little she needs, an’ if you folks take care of her, she’ll be mighty lucky.”
Both the boys were as excited and delighted by the information as if it had been a scheme devised for their especial benefit.
They led the way to Chatham Square at a rapid pace, hurrying Farmer Shindle across the street amid the press of vehicles, until the poor man was almost certain he would never live to reach the desired spot, owing to the recklessness of his guides.
There was no difficulty in finding Sadie.
She was standing where Josiah first saw her, and this time he did not hesitate to approach.
“Say, wouldn’t you like to go out to Berry’s Corner an’ live with father, an’ mother, an’ me?” he cried eagerly, as he halted in front of her, while Tom and Bob pressed close behind to hear every word of the conversation. “I’m goin’ home to-night, an’ we’ll take you for a week, anyhow; then perhaps mother’ll let you stay a good while longer. It’s ever so much nicer out there than it is in the city.”
The child was bewildered by Josiah’s impetuous manner, as well as by the proposition so hastily made, and appeared wholly at a loss for an answer.
Then Tom, who fancied some recommendation from him might be necessary, described the Shindle farm, told of his visit of the previous year, and painted so eloquently in words a picture of the life at Berry’s Corner, that soon Sadie was as excited as any of the party.
At this point Mr. Shindle took part in the conversation.
The child had aroused his sympathies, and he now felt as eager to take her home as did Josiah.
“We haven’t got any little girl out to our house,” he said, holding the tiny hand in his hard palm, “an’ I know mother would take you right into her heart. She’s a bit close-fisted at times, ’cause we have to count every cent to make both ends meet; but in five minutes after you strike the house she’ll be as if you was her own. The good Book says there ain’t a sparrow falls without the Father’s notice, an’ He counts on our doin’ all we can to prevent the fallin’, so I reckon it’ll be layin’ up treasure for the hereafter to take you home.”
Sadie did not exactly understand what the old gentleman was saying so earnestly; but she knew it all meant an invitation to visit the farm, and little persuasion was needed to gain her consent.
Just then Master Bartlett took charge of the matter by adding:—
“I’ll go down to Mother Hunter’s with her, an see that she’s ready to leave with you an’ Josiah, Mr. Shindle. When it’s time to start, we’ll be waitin’ for you at the court.”