WHERE IS JERRY?
WHERE IS JERRY?
CHAPTER IIIWHERE IS JERRY?
Carrying her plant in triumph, Cassy appeared before her mother.
“See, see,” she cried out, “just see! Isn’t it lovely? And look at these violets. Oh, mother, we’ve had the loveliest time, and Jerry has some morning-glory seeds in his pocket. You don’t know all we’ve been doing. Were you worried that we didn’t come home to dinner? Did you think we were kept in?”
“No, for I thought it probable that the charms of that garden would prove too much for you, yet I thought I should have two half-starved children to come home to supper.”
“But we’re not half-starved. We had—oh, mother, it’s just like a story. Tell her about it, Jerry, while I put my flower in the window, and give the violets a drink of water.” She set the flower-pot carefully on the sill, and then stood off to see the effect. Truly the gay pink blossomdid brighten up the bare room, while the scent of the violets filled the air. “I feel so rich,” said Cassy. “I never had such a lovely day.”
“And how about the lessons?” asked Mrs. Law.
Cassy looked a little crestfallen.
“The lessons weren’t quite as good as they are sometimes. You see,” she came close to her mother and fumbled uneasily with the hem of her apron. “You see, mother, I couldn’t help thinking about the garden all the time, and I came near being kept in ’cause I didn’t pay attention. Wouldn’t that have been dreadful?”
“It would have been pretty bad, for it has never happened to you, and I would have been very sorry to have had you come home with such a report.”
“But I remembered just in time, and I did pay attention the rest of the day. Are you tired, you poor mother, sitting here stitching, stitching all day long? If I could only have brought you a piece of that pie.”
“Do you think that would have rested me? I am not so very tired, for this is only Monday, you know.”
“Oh, Jerry,” Cassy turned to her brother, “we forgot to tell her what the nice boy said. Is he a boy or a young gentleman?”
“Oh, he’s just a boy,” said Jerry grandly, with the judgment of his superior years.
“His name is Rock, Rock Hardy, but his mother’s name is Dallas. That is the old Dallas place, you know, where the garden is, and Rock—Mr. Rock?” She looked inquiringly at Jerry who answered, “No, just Rock; he told me to call him that. His real name is Rockwell, but they call him Rock for short.”
“Well then, Rock said that he wished you would come to see his father. He is a railroad man and maybe he could get you that money.”
Mrs. Law shook her head.
“That was very kind, I am sure, but I could not think of troubling a stranger. No doubt the boy might think his father would be interested, but that was only his idea, and I couldn’t think of calling on Mr. Dallas upon such an invitation. I suppose the gentleman is Mr. Dallas, and Rock Hardy is his stepson.”
“Yes, he is, and I think Mr. Dallas must be very nice, for Rock is so fond of him.” Cassylooked disappointed that her mother had not been willing to go right off to see Mr. Dallas. She had dreamed that great things would come of it, and now her hopes were blasted. But it did not take from the memory of the day’s pleasure, and she went about the room, setting the table for supper, and attending to her little duties, singing softly.
There was not much in the room; a few cheap chairs, one a large rocker, a table covered with a red cloth, a kitchen safe and a small cook-stove; the windows were hung with cheap white curtains, but the floor was bare of carpet, though it had been stained. The house was an old one, and was let out in rooms to tenants who could afford only a small rent, consequently the neighborhood was now none of the best. There was an ill smell of cooking in the halls, and the sound of a constant banging of doors, and the shuffle of heavy feet on the bare stairs could always be heard.
The top floor Mrs. Law thought by far the most desirable, although it was the cheapest, and with her children near her, away from the confusion and noise below, she felt that it was as much of a home as she could hope for.
“Every Now and Then Flora was Carried Over and Shown the Geranium”
“Every Now and Then Flora was Carried Over and Shown the Geranium”
“Every Now and Then Flora was Carried Over and Shown the Geranium”
It was hard to keep sturdy Jerry from mixing with the neighborhood boys, but though he had learned many of their rough ways and much of their speech, he was not without good principles, and was careful not to bring the language of the street into his home. His faults were not such as came from an evil heart, and his love for his mother and sister would cause any one to forgive him many mistakes.
Cassy was such a mother-child that she shrank from the children in the house, and when she was at home from school rarely played with them. She would rather stay with her mother. Her principal playmate was a battered doll, which she had owned since she was a baby. It was the last gift from her father, and she prized it above all her possessions.
The next afternoon she established herself in a corner with her doll, Flora, and carried on a long whispered conversation with her. Every now and then Flora was carried over and shown the geranium, and made to peer into the box which held the morning-glory seeds. At last the daylight waned and Mrs. Law moved nearer the window.
“It’s ’most bedtime, but I’ll tell you a story before you go to bed,” she heard Cassy say to her doll. “Listen, and it will give you something to think about while you are trying to go to sleep. Once there was a little girl ’bout as big as me, and she had a mother and a brother and she hadn’t any money at all, but they all wanted some, so her mother went to see a gentleman who knew where there was lots of railroad money, and he gave a whole lot of it to her mother ’cause her husband had been hurt in a railroad accident, and so the little girl had a whole window full of flowers and violets every day, and chicken sandwiches and apple pie, but she didn’t get a new doll, only a new silk dress for her old one—a blue silk dress just like the sky, and oh yes—they had a nice little house with morning-glories growing all over the porch, and the little girl’s mother didn’t have to make any more buttonholes or sew any more on the sewing-machine; she sat on a velvet chair and ate the chicken sandwiches and apple pie all day.”
At this point Mrs. Law laughed. “Didn’t she get rather tired of that?” she asked.
“Oh, mother, were you listening?”
“I couldn’t very well help hearing.”
“That’s a new story,” said Cassy, gravely undressing her doll. “I’ve never told it to Flora before. It’s not quite a true story, but I wish it was, don’t you?”
“All but the occupation of the little girl’s mother. I think she would get dreadfully tired of sitting on a velvet chair, and of eating sandwiches and pieallday.”
Cassy laughed.
“I don’t believe I’d get tired of them. Come, Flora, you must go to bed. I’ll give you one more sniff of violets before you go.” And after being allowed once more to bury her snub nose in the bunch of violets, Flora was put to bed, her crib being a wooden footstool turned upside down, and her covers being some old bits of cotton cloth.
“Go call Jerry and we’ll have supper,” said Mrs. Law.
Cassy placed the violets carefully in the middle of the table, and leaving her mother to dish up the oat-meal, she went in search of Jerry. Hearing voices in the back yard she first went there, but there was no sign of him, and she wentnext to the front door, which generally stood wide open. She looked up and down the dingy street, but saw nothing of her brother. She ran down the steps looking to right and left. At the corner she saw Billy Miles with a group of boys.
“Who ye lookin’ fer?” asked Billy.
“I’m looking for Jerry,” Cassy told him. “Have you seen anything of him?”
“I seen him ’bout an hour ago,” he returned, winking at the other boys, who broke out into a loud laugh.
Cassy looked at them sharply.
“You know where he is,” she said positively. “I think you might tell me.”
“I don’t have to,” said Billy teasingly. “Go look for your precious brother if you want him. He’s so stuck up I guess you’ll find him on top of a telegraph pole.”
Another loud laugh followed this witty remark, and Cassy turned away feeling that Jerry was in some place of which the boys knew, and that they had been the means of keeping him there. She well knew that to go home and tell her mother or to get the policeman on the beatto help her would be a sure means of bringing future trouble upon both herself and Jerry, so she determined to hunt for him herself.
She ran down the street calling, “Jerry, Jerry, where are you?” But after making a long search and finding no sign of her brother, she went back home discouraged.
“Jerry isn’t anywhere,” she announced to her mother. “What shall we do?”
“Perhaps he has gone on an errand for some one. He does that sometimes, you know. We will have supper and save his.”
Jerry very often did turn an honest penny by running errands after school hours, and his absence could easily be accounted for on that score, but still Cassy was not satisfied. Somehow the recollection of Billy’s teasing grin remained with her, and she ate her supper very soberly.
“Mother,” she said after she had finished, “do you mind if I go around to the garden and see if Jerry is there? I don’t feel very sure about his going on an errand.”
Her mother smiled.
“Why, my dear, you are not worrying, are you? I think Jerry will be here soon.”
“I know,—but—Billy Miles—I believe he knew where he was—and please, mother——”
“Well dear, if you will hurry right back, you may go. It will soon be dark, and I don’t want my little girl to be out in the streets so late.”
“I’ll come right back,” Cassy promised earnestly; “I will truly, mother.”
“Very well, run along, though I cannot see why you think you will find Jerry there.”
“Maybe Mr. McClure is working late; sometimes he does and Jerry may be helping him.”
“Very well,” her mother repeated, “run along as fast as you can.”
Cassy caught up her hat and hurried off, not stopping to look at or to speak to any one, and was around the corner in a jiffy, reaching the old Dallas place in a very short time. First she stopped a moment before the gate in the wall, thinking she might hear voices, but all was silent.
“I can’t hear even the daffodils ringing their bells,” said the child to herself as she ran around to the other side of the house. Just as she was passing the front door some one called her.
“Miss Morning-Glory, oh, Miss Morning-Glory!”Looking up she saw Rock Hardy standing on the steps. “Where are you going so fast, Cassy?” he asked. “Did you want to see John? He went home an hour ago.”
“Oh, then, Jerry isn’t here,” Cassy exclaimed.
“No, I don’t think so, in fact I know he isn’t, for I have just come from the garden and no one was there.”
Cassy’s face took on a troubled look, and Rock came down the steps looking at her kindly.
“Is Jerry lost?” he asked, smiling. “It seems to me he is rather a big boy to get lost. I reckon he’s man enough to know his way about town.”
“It isn’t that,” said Cassy, “but I’m afraid those boys—Billy Miles, you know, and the rest—I’m afraid they’ve done something to him.”
“What makes you think so?” Rock came nearer. Cassy gave her reasons and Rock listened attentively. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he said; “I’ll go back with you and help you find him. We can stop and tell your mother so she will not mind your being out. I don’t doubt but that the boys only wanted to tease you, and that he really has gone on an errand, but wherever he is we’ll find him.” He took Cassy’shand in his and she felt great relief of mind. To have such a big boy as champion meant a great deal.
The two traveled along together, Rock looking around him interestedly as they came nearer Cassy’s abode. He wondered why such a very nice little girl should be living in such a dirty street, and he wondered more as they mounted the steps and went from flight to flight.
“It’s at the very top,” Cassy told him, and finally her door was reached and they went in. “This is Rock,” said Cassy to her mother, “and he’s going to find Jerry.” She spoke with confidence.
Rock, seeing the sweet-faced woman who spoke with such a gentle voice, did not wonder that Cassy seemed such a little lady. She looked like her mother and had just such a way of speaking.
“I suppose Jerry hasn’t come yet,” said Rock.
“No,” Mrs. Law replied. “He has been gone a long time for him; he is usually home to supper. I hope nothing has happened; that he——” she looked at Cassy, “that he has not been run over or anything of that kind,” she added, hesitatingly.
“Oh, I don’t believe that,” said Rock in an assured tone. “You know they say ill news flies swiftly, so we’ll think he has gone off some distance and has been detained. Cassy and I will find him. We will inquire around, for some one has seen him go, no doubt.”
“I am very much obliged indeed,” Mrs. Law told him. “I shall feel quite satisfied to have Cassy go if you are with her.” Therefore Rock and Cassy took their departure.
Rock’s first move was to inquire of the big policeman at the corner if he had seen Jerry Law since four o’clock. The policeman looked up and down the street and then at Rock and Cassy.
“Jerry Law, is ut?” he asked. “A small-sized lad ut lives next dhoor to that little haythin Billy Miles? I’ve not seen um. Howld on; I did thin, airly in the afternoon. There was a crowd of bhoys out be Jimmy McGee’s lumber yard, and I belave Jerry was with the lot.”
“Thank you,” said Rock. “You see he hasn’t come home yet, and his sister is worried.”
“He’ll be afther shtayin’ out later whin he’s a bit owlder,” said the policeman with a grin.“He’s not far off, I’m thinkin’. He’ll be playin’ somewhere, you’ll find.”
The children had started off again when the policeman called them back.
“The bhoys were chasin’ a bit of a dog, I moind,” he told them.
“Oh!” exclaimed Cassy, “then Jerry must have tried to get it from them. I know he wouldn’t let any one hurt it if he could help it. Nothing makes him so mad as to see boys hurt poor little cats and dogs; he’ll fight for them when he won’t for anything else.”
Towards the lumber yard they went, and there they stood calling “Jerry, Jerry Law!” They walked along slowly, stopping every little while to listen. At last when they had reached the end of the lumber yard they heard an answer to their call.
“Listen! Listen!” cried Cassy joyfully. “Some one answered.”
“Call again,” said Rock. And Cassy shrilly screamed “Jerry! Jerry!”
“Here I am,” came the reply.
They looked around but could not seem to discover the spot from which the answer came.
“Where are you?” called Rock.
“In the cellar,” was the reply.
“There, there, in that empty house!” Cassy dragged Rock along towards the corner, and crouching down by a little window at the side of the house, she said, “Are you in there, Jerry?”
For answer a face and form appeared at the window, and there was Jerry sure enough.