LITTLE JIM.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume IX, Issue 8, 20 February 1892, Page 188

LITTLE JIM.

1 MUST take the child in, Sally,’ said Miss Bell, ■" looking down upon a small creature that • crouched upon the rug before the blazing fire of her little parlour grate—a boy of nine years , old, half naked, hatless, barefoot, and wet to 1 the skin, for the rain was pouring piteously without, and the suburban cottage seemed about to float away upon a sea of mud and water. • I think I must let the child stay, and

see what I can do for him.’ ‘You’re your own mistress. Miss Bell,’said Sally, ‘but it’s mv bounden duty to demonstrate agin it. You're a single lady, Miss Bell, and I’m a widder. We ain’t no men folkses about, and we ain’t jest the kind to take in strangers of that class, seems to me.’ • Such a baby, Sally !’ said Miss Bell. • It was one jest as small as he is, and a gal to boot, that took my black silk dress—one Mis’Widder Croker gimme when she went and married a second time,’ said Sally. ‘lt was a» good as new, and I ripped the crape off it and trimmed it with red velvet, and I can say fur it it wus scrumptious ! And a little gal came beggin’, and I up and asked Mis’ Croker fur to hire her, and she did, and fust we sent her for a narrand she off with the dress and my back comb and two han’kerch'efs, and I dunno what all. I ain’t never been charytable sence, nor I ain’t never had a black silk gownd sence nuther, nor I don’t expect to. If I let that bov stay till he was dried and give him a dinner, it’s all I d do, miss.’ • I know,’said Miss Bell, ‘it’s what anyone would say, Sally ; but I’ll tell you what I’ll do ; I’ll' give you a new black silk dress—pattern and lining and buttons and anytrimming you like, and you can choose it for yourself at Mr Potter’s shop—if you’ll just take that child and bathe him and dress him up in some of the boy’s clothes sister Martha sent me for the church poor. Yes, and Miss Muntle shall make it for you, Sally, and I’ll pay her, if you’ll only—well, not —not—’ ‘ Not interfere, Miss Bell ?’ said Sally. ‘ Well, I won’t. I always have said that Miss Bell wus the liberelest lady ever 1 lived with—and ever so much obleeged, mum.’ With that Sally seized upon the urchin, who had been found lying before the door face downward in the mud, and bore him to the bath-room, while Miss Bell sat before her fire and thought over a plan that had formed itself in her brain some time before. She was sixty, she was a spinster, she had a nice little fortune of her own, and her married brothers and sisters had chosen to scatter themselves over the world, leaving her to herself for the most part of the time. They could provide for their children. Why should not she, standing on the threshold of old age, take to herself an adopted son ? The big black eyes that had looked up at her had touched her heart. < fnce, long before, such eyes in a far older head had done that, for she had a love story, this elderly woman who had once been a pretty girl ; and the tale the child had told had touched it also. ‘ Father lost at sea —mammy dead. No home—nothing to eat.' Very evidently nothing to wear, from another point of view than Flora McFlinisey’s. • It seems as if Providence had sent him to me,’ said Miss Bell, ‘and I think I shall adopt him.’ When the boy came down, clean and bright in the wellpatched grey suit in which Sally had arrayed him, Miss Bell thought him very pretty. It did not occur to her, as it did to Sally, that he was rather rosy for a child that had been starving for three days, and that his appetite was no more ravenous than that of any healthy boy of his age. In fact, Miss Bell was delighted, and after dinner, when she had had a talk with him and sat watching him as he pored over a great picture-book—no one had taught him to read yet—felt, as she expressedit to herself, ‘Quite like a mother.’ Yes, after she had had the child about her for a week or so, and made sure that she was not mistaken, Miss Bell resolved that she would legally adopt him and make her will in his favour. He should go to school. She would see that he was properly brought up, and her friends might say what they pleased. She should have a son in her old age, and would have accomplished a good deed besides. Even Sally began to look upon little Jim with less disfavour before three days were past, and when she had really bought her black silk with all that was needful, and had it fitted by Miss Bell s own dressmaker, she softened to the unconscious cause of this favour, and made him special turnovers and even allowed him to make toffee on her kitchen range on Saturday evening after teaching him how to do it. ‘ A child does liven up a house, miss,’ she said on Sundayevening ; ‘ and we seemed quite a family in the church pew, somehow or another.’ <>n Monday Jim was to go to school in the brand-new clothes which had come home Saturday night. There was quite a flutter in the small household. A tiny blue neck-tie graced Miss Bell’s workbasket. Sally ‘ did up’ several small collars with great care, and it was a proof that she had changed her mind in regard to the boy, that when Miss Bell said, meditatively : ‘Sally, I mean to give James that small silver watch I had at school myself. But perhaps I’d better keep it until he has made some improvement and call it a reward of merit,’ the handmaiden replied. • Well, just as you think best, of course, miss ; but if he wears a watch first off it will show he is somebody, and he’ll be tret better.’ So Jim wore the watch in the pocket of his new suit, and liefore he went u]s>n his way he was kissed and counselled as tenderly as though he really had a mother. •It made him cry, miss,’ said Sally. • I saw the tears in his eyes, ami I II own up that I was mistook in him.’ The two women watched him out of sight as he went down the street. But when school hours were past they wailed in vain for his return. Night fell and he was still among the missing.

The school to which he had been sent was kept by an old friend of Miss Bell. To her bouse, when eight o'clock struck without bringing the truant home, Miss Bell, full of anxiety made her way, and to her inquiry received a most unpleasant answer. • He never came, my dear. The watch and the new clothes have been too great a temptation. It never does to take children like that to your bosom, Evelina. I wanted to tell you that. But when you wish to do a thing, you will ; I know you of old.’ Then Miss Bell went back to her home, which seemed more lonely than it had ever been before, and said to Sally Simpkins : • Just please don’t talk about it, Sally. All that can be said has been said by Maria Pascall.’ Two days passed away. Still there was no news of Jim. Miss Bell expected none, .all through her life she had been used by her family as a dreadful example of what came of trusting tales of woe and being benevolent to unworthy objects, and this was her crowning performance, • No matter,’ she said to herself. ‘ No matter ; it is a lesson that will last my life. I deserved it.’ The third day. however, a slow-stepping policeman sauntered up the doorsteps and pulled the bell. ‘ The ash-barrel again, I suppose, Sally,’ Miss Bell said. ‘ No doubt the authorities want it set just inside the door at exactly five o’clock in the morning. I don’t know what other change they could make. They’ve done everything else with it.’ But it was not the ash-barrel that was in question this time. What the policeman said was this : ‘ Morning, ma’am. Do you know a little chap named Jim ? He says you do. He says you’ve been good to him —gave him a watch and lots of clothes. He’s got rid of them if you have. In fact, he says he lives here. No doubt it’s all a lie.’ ‘ No, no !’ cried Miss Bell. ‘ It is true. I—l took him in I intended to adopt him. I—oh ! perhaps I haven’t been deceived in him, after all. Tell me quick.’ ‘lf you'd kindly step over to the station, in street, you'll hear all about it,' said the officer. ‘ At once, please.’ It took Miss Bell only a few moments to get ready, and as quickly as the little cab that Sally called could carry her she was at the police station, and in a few moments, Jim, looking very small indeed among the large policemen, stood before her—Jim, more ragged than before, and shoeless again, but quite undaunted, his eyes blazing, his fists clenched tight and hard, though his head was bandaged, and his face bruised and very pale. ‘ There she is !’ he cried. ‘ There’s the lady ! She’ll tell you how good she was to me. Nobody never was good before. I had clothes, swell clothes ; she gave ’em to me ; and I had a watch, she gave it to me; and she kissed me, she did ; and I love her, I do, like she was my mammy. Don’t believe I’ve gone back on you, miss ; don’t believe it. I wouldn’t.’ A change swept over Miss Bell’s face as he spoke. It grew soft and warm and kindly again. ‘ I know you wouldn’t child,’ said she. ‘ No indeed you wouldn’t! I thought you had but now I know better.’ And in her prim poplin and all her tidy, Quakerlike belongings, she stooped and kissed poor ragged Jim very tenderly. ‘ Madame,’ said the grave elderly gentleman at the desk, ‘ this boy tells a very curious story. You may tell it again, Jim. ‘ Yes, sir,’ said Jim. ‘ When you took me in that day, lady, I was put there by Tom Gillie. I lived along of him. It was true about mammy and daddy, but I lived along of Tom, and he put me there so that you would take me in, and I’d open the door and let them get in at night and take your money. They said you kept a great deal in the house.’ ‘Well, I haven’t any tiust in banks,’ said Miss Bell, a pologetically. ‘ I didn’t want to do it,’ Jim went on, ‘ but I thought I had to if Tom Gillie said to do it. But when you was so good to me, and gave me clothes and a watch and all, and said I was to be your little boy, why, I loved you. I wouldn’t have done it for nothin’, and I prayed to God, like you told me, and thought I’d be took care of. I never had a good word spoke to me before. Seemed like I’d got to heaven, and I meant to tell you some day, but I didn’t want to yet, and I went off’ to school jest as happy. But before I got there I met Tom Gillie. He was watching the house. “ Oho !” says he, “ quite a swell. All the better. To-night you must open the kitchen door. They go to bed early, of course. At one o’clock —you’ve got a watch to tell time by now—you let us in.” “No,” says I, “not then—not ever. I’ve been treated good by the lady, and I’ll not go back on her, nor the other one, the servant ; she’s good too. And God won’t let you get me back, for the lady said He’d take care of me if I prayed at night.” Then Tom grabbed me and pulled me into a dark alley and hit me. When I came to I was in some of my old clothes again. I was on a bed, and Tom and Bill were talking about how they’d break into your kitchen. Bill would pretend he was the gas-man and so get in and take the cellar-door off its hinges jest before dark. So I got up and began to go down-stairs, jest as easy, and Tom saw me and gave me another clip on the head, and pitched me out of the door. I came to in the hospital, and jest as soon as I could think I told the doctor, and he brought me here to swear to it all. Oh, dear, good lady, you will be robbed, and may be murdered if you don’t believe me! Tom killed a woman once—l’ve heard him tell of it.’ ‘ Tom will not have the chance this time,’ said the gentleman at the desk. ‘ I have no doubt that the boy’s story is a tine one, and if the burglars come to your house, Miss Bell, they will have a warm reception.’ ‘And my little boy? You will give him back tome?’ said Miss Bell. ‘ He has been with bad people ; but you can see there is good in him, and I shall do just as I intended if I may have him.’ ‘ At present we will take him back to the hospital, madame,’ said a young man who had hitherto remained silent. ‘ He has lieen very badly hurt indeed, and needs our care. But if—l mean when he recovers, I have no doubt— ’ ‘ Miss Bell holds the position of his guardian,’ said the grave gentleman at the desk. Miss Bell once more kissed the little fellow, who smiled at her fondly. ‘ I’m just as glad as can be,’ he said, • and I’ll be good—so good, dear lady, when I’m your little boy again !’ And then the surgeon took him by the hand and led him away.

That night the policemen were hidden in the cellar of Miss Bell's pretty house, and when Bill and Tom arrived, instead of sneaking upstairs to rob a little old lady, and murder her if she objected to it, they walked into the hands of four of the * finest,’ and were dragged away to meet their just reward. But as for Jim. When good Miss Bell trotted up the hospital steps next day, and smilingly asked if she might see ‘ her little boy,’ they told her tearfully that in the night he had lifted his head from his pillow and said to his nurse: * Kiss the dear good lady, and tell her good-bye. The woman in white says I must go where the music is. Hark ! It’s a hymn—’ There was no woman that the nurse could see, nor did she hear any music ; but before she could reach the child’s side he had dropped back upon the pillow —dead.