OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 878, 28 December 1888, Page 5

OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

AN ANGEL IN AN ULSTER. By Washington Gladden. (From St. Nicholas. * Well, sir, I am sorry ; but I’ve done the best I could for you.’ It is the conductor of the night express on the Eastern Railroad who is speaking ; and the passenger, to whom his remark is addressed, stands with watch in 'hand, near the door of tho car, as the train draws into the Boston station. ‘I do not doubt it,’is the answer. ‘Yon cannot be blamed for the delay. The other train must have loft the Western station already.’ ‘Undoubtedly ; tho time is past, and they always start on time.’ 4 And there is no train that connects through to Cincinnati before to-morrow morning.' ‘No !’ ‘ Well, that settles it. Thank you.’ Mr Haliburton Todd steps down from the platform of the ear, and walks slowly past tho row of beckoning and shouting haakmen. He is too good a philosopher to be angry with the freshet that delayed the train, but there i 3 a shade of disappointment on his face, and a trace of moisture in his eye. He is a wholesome-looking man of forty-flve, with greyish hair and beard, blue eyea, and a ruddy countenance. Probably he is never much given to grinning, but just now his face is unusually grave ; nevertheless, ft is a kind face ; under its sober mask there is a world of good nature. In short, he is just the sort of man that a- shrewd girl.of 12 would piok out for an uncle. If anyone thinks that is not high praise, I should like to have him try his hand at commendation. There are, indeed, quite a number of boys and girls to whom Uncle Hal is both a saint and a hero. At that Christmas party, in the home of his sister in the Western city to which he had been hurrying, these boys and girls are to be assembled. All the married brothers and sisters, with their families, will he there. Bat it is of no use now to try to join them. The feast will be ended, and the cirole will be broken before he can reach Cincinnati. So he strolls out of the station and up the street. No, he will not take a hack nor a horse-oar; happy people may consent to be carried ; those whose minds are troubled would better go afoot. He will walk off Mb disappointment. He trudges along the narrow streets ; the drays and the express wagons, laden with all sorts of boxes and parcels, are clattering to and fro; porters, large ,and small, are running with bundles, big and little ; the shops are crowded with eager customers. Mr Haliburton Tood is too good a man to be dismal long in the midst of a scene like this. ‘What hosts of people,’he says to himself, 4 are thinking and working with all their might to-day to make other people happy to-morrow ! And how happy they all are themselves, to-day ! We always say that Christmas is the.happiest day in the year; but is it ? Isn’t it the day before Christmas V

So thinking, he pauses at the window of a small print-shop, when his attention is caught by the voices of two children, standing in the hall at tbe foot of the stairs leading to the stories above. On tho sign beside the doorway he reads, * Jaokson and Company, Manufacturers of Ladies’ Underwear,'

The children are a girl of 12 and a boy of 10, neatly but plainly dressed ; a troubled look is on their bright faces. 4 How much, Ruby T asks the boy. ‘Only seven dollars,’ answers the girl, choking back a sob. 4 There were four dozen of the night-dresses you know, and the price was two dollars a dozen ; but tho man said that some of them were not well made, so he kept back a dollar.' ‘The man lied,’ says Ben, 4 and I’ll go up and tell him so.' 4 Oh, no,’ answers Ruby ; 4 that wouldn’t do any good. He wouldn’t mind you, and he might not give us any more work. But the work was well done, if we did help ; for you run the machine beautifully, and Mamma says ihat my buttou-holes are every bit as good as hers. Just think of it ! Only seven dollars for two weeks’ hard work of all three of us !’ ‘We can’t have the turkey’ said Ben. sadly. 4 Oh, no. I found a nice.young one down at the corner Btore that we could get for a dollar and a half, but we must lay by two dollars for tho rent, yo i know ; and there’ll be coal to buy next week. I’m sure Mamma will think we can’t afford it.’ ‘Come on, then,’ says Ben, bestowing a farewell kick upon the sign of Jackman and Company. Mr Haliburton Todd has forgotten all about his own disappointment In listening to the more serious trouble of these two children. As they walk up the street, he follows them closely, trying to imagine the story of their lives. They stop now anti then for a moment to look into the windows of the toy-stores, and to admire the sweet wonders of the confectioners, but they do not tarry long. Presently, the eyes of Mr Todd are caught by a large theatre-bill, announcing the oratorio of the Messiah, at Music Hall, Tuesday evening, December 24, by the Handel and Haydn Society. Mr Lang is to play the great organ. Theodore Thomas’ orchestra is to assist, and the soloists are Miss Thursby and Miss Cary, and Mr Whitney and Mr Sims Reeves. ‘Correct!’ said Mr Haliburton Todd, ftloud. He knows now what he will do with

the coming evening. It is long, since his passion for music has been promised such a gratification. Whilst he pauses, he notes that Ruby and Ben are scanning with eager eyes the same bill-board. * Rather remarkable children,’ he says to himself, ‘to care for oratorio. If it were a minstrel sho'w, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘ Wouldn’t I like to go ?’ says Ruby. ‘ Wouldn't I?’ echoes Ben, with a low whistle.

‘ Don’t you remember,’ says the girl, ‘the night Papa and Mamma took us to hear Nilsson ? Miss Cary was there, you know, and she sang this : ‘ Birds of the night that softly call, Winds in the night that strangely sigh.’

It is a sweet and sympathetic voice that croons the first strain of Sullivan’s melody. 4 1 remember it,’ says Ben. 4 Mamma used to sing it afterward, pretty near as well as she did. And don’t you remember that French chap that played the violin ? Blue Tom, they called Mm, or some such name.’ • Vieuxteinps,’ laughs Ruby, who knows a little French.

‘ Yes, that’s it. But couldn’t he make the old fiddle dance, though 1’ And the boy tilts his basket against his shoulder, and executes upon it an imaginary roulade with an imaginary bow. 4 We used to have good times at home, didn’t we—when Papa played the violin and Mamma the piano ?’ Ben goes on. ‘Don’t,’ pleads Ruby, turning with a great sob, from the bright promise of the billboard. The two children walk on in silence for a few moments, —Mr Haliburton Todd still close behind them. Ruby has resolutely dried her own tears, but her thoughts are still with the great singers, and the voice of the wonderful Swede is ringing through her memory, for presently Mr Todd hears her singing low : .‘Angels ever bright, and fair, Take, oh, take me to your care !’

‘Well, my child,’ he says, in a low tone, 4 1 don’t think that angels apt to have grey hairs in their whiskers, nor to wear ulsters ; but there’s an old fellow about my size who would like to be an angel just for your sake,’

While he is talking thus to himself, the children turn into the hall of a tenemeut house. Mr Haliburton Todd glances after them, and sees them enter a room on the first landing. He walks on a few steps slowly, hesitates, then quickly turns back. In a moment he is knocking at the door which- had been opened for the children. The knock is answered by the boy. 4 1 beg your pardon, my little man,’ says Mr Todd. 4 1 am a stranger to you ; but I should like to see your mother if she is not engaged.’ 4 Como in, sir,’ said a voice within. It is the voice of a lady. Her face is pale and anxious, but her manner is quiet and selfpossessed. ‘lt ie a curious errand that brings me, madam,’ says Mr Haliburton Todd ; 4 but I trust you will pardon my boldness and grant my request. These children of yours ch-.nced to be standing with me in front of the same placard announcing the oratorio tonight ; and I heard enough of what they said to know that they have a rare appreciation of good music. I have oome to see if you will let ne take them to the Music Hall this evening.’ ‘Oh, Mamma !’ cries Ben.

Ruby’s eyes plead, but the mother's face is grave. ‘Your offer is extremely kind, sir,’ she said at length, slowly ; ‘ and the thing you propose would give my children great pleasure ; but ’ ‘ You do not know me,’ Mr Todd supplies. * That is true ; and of course a wise mother would not commit her children to the care of an entire stranger. Here’s my card, — “ Todd & Templeton, Mattawamkeag, Maine ” —but that proves nothing. However, I’m not going to give it up so. Let me see ; I wonder if I know anybody that you know in this big city. Who is your minister ?'

‘We attend, at present, St. Matthew’s Church, of which Mr Brown is rector.’ ‘ What is his first name ?’ ‘ John, I think.' ‘ John Robinson Brown ?’ ‘Yes, that is the name.’

1 Cor-rect!’ ejaculates Mr Todd, triumphantly, with a distinct hyphen between the two syllables of his favourite interjection ; * that fixes it. What luck this is ! I know your minister perfectly. He has been up in our woods fishing every summer for five years, and we are the best of friends. Can you tell me his residence V 4 1 know, ’ cries Bon. * He lives next door to tho church, on Cbaucor-atroefc.’ ‘ All right. Let the boy run up to bis house after dinner, and see whether Mr Brown indorses me. I’ll drop on him this morning. If he says eo, > ou’Jl let tho children., go with me to-night ?’ ‘I know no reason,’ answers the mother, ‘ why they may not go. You are very, kind.’ ‘Kind to myself, that’s all. But I shall be obliged to ask your name, madam.’ ‘Johnson.’ ‘Thank you, Mrs Johnson. I will call for ( tho children at half-past seven. Good morn--1 ing-’ Mr Haliburton Todd bows himself out with a beaming face, anc leaves sunshine behind him. He pauses a moment on the landing. The door of tho room adjoining Johnson’s stands open, and he observes that the loom is vacant. He steps in and finds a glazier setting a pane of glass. 11 is a pleasant room with an open fireplace ; tho rear parlourchamber of an old-fashioned house, and it has been newly papered and painted. It commuuicates with the sitting-room, where the children and their mother live. * Is this room rented ?’ he asks the glazier. ‘Guess not.’ * Where is the agent ?’ ‘ Number seven, Court street.' 4 Thank you !’ Mr Haliburton Todd glances around the room again, nods decisively, and hurries down the stairs. What beoomea of him for the next hour we will not inquire. A man is entitled to have a little time to himself, and it is not polite, even in stories, to be prying into all the doings of our neighbours. The next glimpse we get of him,he is sitting in the study of the reotorofSt, Mat-

thew’s, explaining to that gentlemen what he wishes to do with these two little parishioners of his. - - - ; 4 Just like you,' cries the minister. ~‘ But who are the children ?’

‘ Their name is Johnson, and they live in a tenement house on Denison-atre t, number forty-five.’ ,

‘ Ah, yes. Their father was the master of a barque in the African trade, and he was lost on the west coast a year and a half ago. Nothing was ever known of his fate, excepting that a portiomof the vessel bearing its name, “ Ruby," was washed ashore, Bomewhere in Angola, I think. They had a home of their own, bought in flush times, aod mortgaged for half its value, but in the shrinkage everything was swept away. They have lived in this tenement now for nearly a year, supporting themselves by sewing. I suspect they are poor enough, but they are thoroughly independent ; it is hard to get a chance to do anything for them. You seem to have outflanked them.’ 4 Oh, no ; I’m not much of a strategist ; I moved on their works and captured them. It’s my selfishness; J want Thursby and Cary with those children’s ears that’s all. And if you will kindly write a little note, assuring the mother that I will net eat her ohildren, the boy will call for it. And now, good morning. 1 shall see you next sum- ‘ mer in the woods.’ The rector presses his friend to tarry, but he pleads business, and hurries away. Now ho mysteriously disappears again. After a few hours,we find him seated before the grate, in his cosy room at the Parker House ; the telegram has gone to Cincinnati with the bad news that he is not coming ; the oratorio tickets have been purchased ; dinner has been eaten; there is time for reßt, and he is writing a few letters to those nephews and neices who know, by this time, to their great grief, that they will not see Uncle Hal to-morrow. Meantime, the hours have passed cheerily at the little room of the Johnsons, on Deni-son-street ; for, though the kindness of their unknown friend could not heal the hurt caused by the hardness of their greedy employer, it has helped them to bear it. Ben has brought from the rector an enthusiastic note about Mr Todd, and the children have waited in delighted anticipation of the evening. Promptly, at half-past seven, the step of their friend is on the stair, and Ms knock at the door. ‘Come in, sir !’ says Ben. It is a very different voice from that of the boy who was talking at Jackman and Company’s entrance a few hours ago. ‘ This haß been a day of great expectations here,’ says Ben’s mother. ‘I do not know what could have been promised the children that would have pleased them more. Of music they -have had a passionate love from infancy, and they haven’t heard much lately.’ 4 Well, they shall have to-night the best that Boston affords,’ says Mr Todd. 4 Now, yon must tell me your name, my boy. We want a good understanding before we start.’ ‘Ben, sir, is wbat my mother calls me.’ ‘ Ben Johnson, eh ? A first-class name, and a famous one. Correot!’ laughs Mr Todd. 4 And now, will the little lady tell her name V '' ~ ‘Ruby, sir, is all there is of it,’answers the maiden. 4 Well, Ruby,’ says Mr Todd, ‘your name is like the boarders’ coffee ; it is good enough what there is of it, such as it is. . Now, you want to know what to call me. My name’s Uncle Hal. That’s what a lot of boys and girls out West would have been calling me to-morrow if I hadn’t missed the train ; and if you’ll just let me play, to-night, that I’m your uncle, I shall have a great deal better time.’ So they go off merrily. (To be continued.)