That called him to earth. He had to think quickly under cover of getting his breath.
"Henry James," he replied. This was perfectly true, as far as it went. In a moment the enormous signboard flashed out the name:
HENRY JAMES No. 4. AGE 13WINNER OF FREE-FOR-ALL
Meanwhile the man of the dressing room was busy locating Mr. Cordyce of the Cordyce Mills. He knew that was exactly the kind of story that old James Henry would like.
"Yes, sir," he said smiling. "I says to him, 'You don't expect to win, of course.' And he says to me, 'Oh, no, but it's lots of fun to run, you know.'"
"Thank you, sir," returned Mr. Cordyce. "That's a good story. Bring the youngster over here, if you don't mind."
When Henry appeared, a trifle shaken out of his daze and anxious only to get away, Mr. Cordyce stretched out his hand. "I like your spirit, my boy," he said. "I like your running, too. But it's your spirit that I like best. Don't ever lose it."
"Thank you," said Henry, shaking hands. And there was only one in the whole crowd that knew who was shaking hands with whom, least of all James Henry and Henry James.
With twenty-five dollars in his hand, Henry felt like a millionaire as he edged through the crowd to the gate.
"That's the boy," he heard many a person say when he was forced to hold his silver cup in view out of harm's way.
When Dr. McAllister drove into his yard he found a boy washing the concrete drives as calmly as if nothing had happened. He chuckled quietly, for he had stopped at the Fair Grounds for a few minutes himself, and held a little conversation with the score-keeper. When Henry faithfully repeated the list of winners, however, he said nothing about it.
"What are you going to do with the prize?" queried Dr. McAllister.
"Put it in the savings bank, I guess," replied Henry.
"Have you an account?" asked his friend.
"No, but Jess says it's high time we started one."
"Good for Jess," said the doctor absently. "I remember an old uncle of mine who put two hundred dollars in the savings bank and forgot all about it. He left it in there till he died, and it came to me. It amounted to sixteen hundred dollars."
"Whew!" said Henry.
"He left it alone for over forty years, you see," explained Dr. McAllister.
When Henry arrived at his little home in the woods with the twenty-five dollars (for he never thought of putting it in the bank before Jess saw it), he found a delicious lunch waiting for him. Jess had boiled the little vegetables in clear water, and the moment they were done she had drained off the water in a remarkable drainer, and heaped them on the biggest dish with melted butter on top.
His family almost forgot to eat while Henry recounted the details of the exciting race. And when he showed them the silver cup and the money they actually did stop eating, hungry as they were.
"I said my name was Henry James," repeated Henry.
"That's all right. So it is," affirmed Jess. "It's clever, too. You can use that name for your bank book."
"So I can!" said Henry, delighted. "I'll put it in the bank this very afternoon. And by the way, I brought something for dinner tonight."
Jess looked in the bag. There were a dozen smooth, brown potatoes.
"I know how to cook those," said Jess, nodding her head wisely. "You just wait!"
"Can't wait, hardly," Henry called back as he went to work.
When he had gone, Benny frolicked around noisily with the dog.
"Benny," Jess exclaimed suddenly, as she hung her dish towels up to dry, "it's high time you learned to read."
"No schoolnow," said Benny hopefully.
"No, but I can teach you. If I only had a primer!"
"Let's make one," suggested Violet, shaking her hair back. "We have saved all the wrapping paper off the bundles, you know."
Jess was staring off into space, as she always did when she had a bright idea.
"Violet," she cried at last, "remember those chips? We could whittle out letters like type—make each letter backwards, you know."
"And stamp them on paper!" finished Violet.
"There would be only twenty-six in all. It wouldn't be awfully hard," said Jess. "We wouldn't bother with capitals."
"What could we use for ink?" Violet wondered, wrinkling her forehead.
"Blackberry juice!" cried Jess. The two girls clapped their hands. "Won't Henry be surprised when he finds that Benny can read?"
Now from this conversation Benny gathered that this type-business would take his sisters quite a while to prepare. So he was not much worried about his part of the work. In fact, he sorted out chips very cheerfully and watched his teachers with interest as they dug carefully around the letters with the two knives.
"We'll teach him two words to begin with," said Jess. "Then we won't have to make the whole alphabet at once. Let's begin to teach himsee."
"That's easy," agreed Violet. "And then we won't have to make but two letters,sande."
"And the other word will beme," cried Jess. "So only three pieces of type in all, Violet."
Jess cut the wigglys, because she had the better knife, while Violet struggled with thee. Then Jess cut a wonderfulmwhile Violet sewed the primer down the back, and gathered a cupful of blackberries. As she sat by, crushing the juice from the berries with a stick, Jess planned the ink pad.
"We'll have to use a small piece of the wash-cloth, I'm afraid," she said at last.
But finally they were obliged to cut off only the uneven bits of cloth which hung around the edges. These they used for stuffing for the pad, and covered them with a pocket which Violet carefully ripped from her apron. When this was sewed firmly into place, and put into a small saucer, Jess poured on the purple juice. Even Benny came up on his hands and knees to watch her stamp the firsts. It came out beautifully on the first page of the primer, purple and clean-cut. Theewas almost as good, and as for them, Jess' hand shook with pure pride as she stamped it evenly on the page. At last the two words were completed. In fact, they were done long before Benny had the slightest idea his sisters were ready for him.
He came willingly enough for his first lesson, but he could not tell the two words apart.
"Don't you see, Benny?" Jess explained patiently. "This one with the wigglyssayssee?" But Benny did not "see."
"I'll tell you, Jess," said Violet at last. "Let's print each word again on a separate card. That's the way they do at school. And then let him point tosee."
The girls did this, using squares of stiff brown paper. Then they called Benny. Very carefully, Jess explained again which word saidsee, hissing like a huge snake to show him how thessounded. Then she mixed the cards and said encouragingly, "Now, Benny, point tos-s-s-ee."
Benny did not move. He sat with his finger on his lip.
But the children were nearly petrified with astonishment to see Watch cock his head on one side and gravely put his paw on the center of the word! Now, this was only an accident. Watch did not really know one of the words from the other. But Benny thought he did. And was he going to let a dog get ahead of him? Not Benny! In less time than it takes to tell it, Benny had learned both words perfectly.
"Good old Watch," said Jess.
"It isn't really hard at all," said Benny. "Is it, Watch?"
During all this experiment Jess had not forgotten her dinner. When you are living outdoors all the time you do not forget things like that. In fact both girls had learned to tell the time very accurately by the sun.
Jess started up a beautiful little fire of cones. As they turned into red-hot ashes and began to topple over one by one into the glowing pile, Jess laughed delightedly. She had already scrubbed the smooth potatoes and dried them carefully. She now poked them one by one into the glowing ashes with a stick from a birch tree. Whenever a potato lit up dangerously she gave it a poke into a new position. And when Henry found her, she was just rolling the charred balls out onto the flat stones.
"Burned 'em up?" queried Henry.
"Burned, nothing!" cried Jess energetically. "You just wait!"
"Can't wait, hardly," replied Henry smiling.
"You said that a long time ago," said Benny.
"Well, isn't it true?" demanded Henry, rolling his brother over on the pine needles.
"Come," said Violet breathlessly, forgetting to ring the bell.
"Hold them with leaves," directed Jess, "because they're terribly hot. Knock them on the side and scoop them out with a spoon and put butter on top."
The children did as the little cook requested, sprinkled on a little salt from the salt shaker, and took a taste.
"Ah!" said Henry.
"It's good," said Benny blissfully. It was about the most successful meal of all, in fact. When the children in later years recalled their different feasts, they always came back to the baked potatoes roasted in the ashes of the pine cones. Henry said it was because they were poked with a black-birch stick. Benny said it was because Jess nearly burned them up. Jess herself said maybe it was the remarkable salt shaker which had to stand on its head always, because there was no floor to it.
After supper the children still were not too sleepy to show Henry the new primer, and allow Benny to display his first reading lesson. Henry, greatly taken with the idea, sat up until it was almost dark, chipping out the remaining letters of the alphabet.
If you should ever care to see this interesting primer, which was finally ten pages in length, you might examine this faithful copy of its first page, which required four days for its completion:
Henry always insisted that the rat's tail was too long, but Jess said his knife must have slipped when he was making thea, so they were even, after all.
What Dr. McAllister ever did before Henry began to work for him would be hard to guess.
There were certainly as many duties always waiting for him as he had time to do. And it made no difference to the industrious boy what the job was. Nothing was too hard or too dirty for him to attempt.
One day the doctor set him at the task of clearing out his little laboratory. The boy washed bottles, pasted labels, and cleaned instruments for one whole morning. And more than one broken flask on its way to the rubbish heap was carefully carried up the hill to the hidden family.
While Henry was busy carefully lettering a sticky label, he noticed a young man in the outer office who was talking with the doctor.
"Can you tell me if this is real ginseng?" Henry heard him say.
"It certainly is," returned Dr. McAllister. "They will give you two dollars a pound for the root at any of the drug stores."
Henry ventured to steal a peep, and found he could readily see the plant the man was holding. It was about a foot high with branching leaves and a fine feathery white flower. Henry knew it was exactly the same white puffball that he had noticed in Violet's vase that very morning.
When the young man had gone, Henry said, "I know where I can find a whole lot of that plant."
"Is that so?" replied the doctor kindly. "It's only the root, you know, that is valuable. But any one who wants the bother of digging it up can sell any quantity of that."
When Henry went home at noon he related enough of this incident to set his sisters to work in good earnest. They started out with both knives and two strong iron spoons, and the kettle. And with Benny to run about finding every white flower he could, the girls succeeded, with a great deal of hard digging, in finding enormous quantities of ginseng root. In fact that first afternoon's work resulted in a kettle full, not counting a single leaf or stem. Henry was delighted when he saw the result of their work, and took it next day to the largest drug store, where he received three dollars for the roots.
Without any hesitation Henry paid a visit to the dry-goods store, and came home with a pair of new brown stockings for Benny. That was a great day in the woods. Benny gave them no peace at all until they had admired his wonderful new stockings, and felt of each rib.
There had been one other thing that Benny had given them no peace about. On the night when the children had crept so quietly away from the baker's wife, Jess had forgotten to take Benny's bear. This bear was a poor looking creature, which had once been an expensive bright-eyed Teddy-bear made of brown plush. But Benny had taken it to bed every single night for three years, and had loved it by day, so that it was not attractive to any one but himself. Both eyes were gone, and its body was very limp, but Benny had certainly suffered a great deal trying to sleep in a strange bed without his beloved bear.
Jess, therefore, had plans on foot, the moment she saw Benny's new stockings. She washed the old brown stockings with their many neat darns, and hung them up to dry. And early in the afternoon she and Violet sat with the workbag between them, each with a stocking.
With Benny sitting by to watch proceedings, Jess mapped out a remarkable Teddy-bear. One stocking, carefully trimmed, made the head and body, while the other furnished material for two arms, two legs, and the stuffing. Jess worked hard over the head, pushing the padding well into the blunt nose. Violet embroidered two beautiful eyes in black and white, and a jet black nose-tip.
"You must make a tail, too, Jessy," said Benny, watching her snip the brown rags.
"Bears don't have tails, Benny," argued Jess—although she wasn't exactly sure she was right. "Your old bear didn't have any tail, you know."
"Butthisbear has a tail, though," returned Benny, knowing that Jess would put on two tails if he insisted.
And it was true. His bear finally did have a tail.
"Whatkindof tail?" asked Jess helplessly at last. "Bushy, long and slim, or cotton-tail?"
"Long and slim," decided Benny with great satisfaction, "so I can pull it."
"Benny!" cried Jess, laughing in spite of herself. But she made a tail, long and slim, exactly as Benny ordered, and sewed it on very tightly, so that it might be "pulled" if desired. She fastened on the legs and arms with flat hinges, so the bear might sit down easily, and added at last a pair of cunning flappy ears and a gay collar of braided red string from a bundle.
"What's his name, Jessy?" inquired Benny, when the wonderful bear was finally handed over to him.
"His name?" repeated Jess. "Well, you know he's anewbear; he isn't your old one, so I wouldn't call him Teddy."
"Oh, no," said Benny, shocked. "This is not Teddy. This has a pretty tail."
"Of course," agreed Jess, trying not to laugh. "Well, you know we sold that ginseng to pay for your new stockings. And if you hadn't had your new ones, we couldn't have made this bear out of your old ones."
"You want his name to be Stockings?" asked Benny politely.
"Stockings? No," answered Jess. "I was thinking of 'Ginseng.'"
"Ginseng?" echoed Benny, thinking deeply. "That's a nice name. All right, I think Ginseng will be a good bear, if Watchie doesn't bark at him." And from that moment the bear's name was Ginseng as long as he lived, and he lived to be a very old bear indeed.
The days went merrily by for the freight-car family. Hardly a day passed, however, without some exciting adventure. Mrs. McAllister, finding out in some way that Violet was a clever seamstress, sent home fine linen handkerchiefs for her to hem. Each one had a tiny colored rose in the corner, and Violet was delighted with the dainty work. She sat sewing daily by the swimming pool while Benny sailed wonderful boats of chips, and waded around to his heart's content.
The freight-car pantry now held marvelous dishes rescued from the dump; such rarities as a regular bread knife, a blue and gold soap dish, and half of a real cut-glass bowl.
Henry proudly deposited thirty-one dollars in the savings bank under the name of Henry James, and worked eagerly for his kind friend, who never asked him any more embarrassing questions.
Benny actually learned to read fairly well. The girls occupied their time making balsam pillows for the four beds, and trying to devise wonderful meals out of very little material. Violet kept a different bouquet daily in the little vase. She had a perfect genius for arranging three purple irises to look like a picture, or a single wood lily with its leaves like a Japanese print. Each day the children enjoyed a cooked dinner, filling in the chinks with perfect satisfaction with bread and butter, or bread and milk, or bread and cheese. They named their queer house, "Home for Tramps," and printed this title in fancy lettering inside the car.
One day Jess began to teach Benny a little arithmetic. He learned very readily that two and one make three.
"I knew that before," he said cheerfully. But it was a different matter when Jess proposed to him that two minus one left one.
"No, it does not leftone," said Benny indignantly. "It lefttwo."
"Why, Benny!" cried Jess in astonishment. "Supposing you had two apples and I took away one, wouldn't you have one left?"
"You never would," objected Benny with confidence.
"No, but supposing Watch took one," suggested Jess.
"Watchie wouldn't take one, neither," said Benny. "Would you, doggie?"
Watch opened one eye and wagged his tail. Jess looked at Violet in despair. "What shall I do with him?" she asked.
Violet took out her chalk and printed clearly on the outside of the freight car the following example:
2 - 1 =
2 - 1 =
"Now, Benny, don't you see," she began, "that if you have two things, and somebody takes away one, that youmusthave one left?"
"I'll show you myself," agreed Benny finally with resignation. "Now see the 2?" He actually made a respectable figure 2 on the freight car. "Now, here's a nice 1. Now, s'posen I take away the 1, don't you see the 2's left right on the car?" He covered the figure 1 with his chubby hand and looked about at his audience expectantly.
Jess rolled over against a tree trunk and laughed till she nearly cried. Violet laughed until she really did cry. And here we come to the first unpleasant incident in the story of the runaway children.
Violet could not stop crying, apparently, and Jess soon made up her mind that she was really ill. She helped her carefully into the car, and heaped all the pine needles around and under her, making her the softest bed she could. Then she wet cloths in the cool water of the brook and laid them across her little sister's hot forehead.
"How glad I am that it is time for Henry to come!" she said to herself, holding Violet's slender brown hands in her cool ones.
Henry came promptly at the usual time. He thought she had a cold, he said. And this seemed likely, for Violet began to cough gently while the rest ate a hasty supper.
"We don't want to let her go to a hospital if we can possibly help it," said Henry, more troubled than he cared to show. "If she goes there we'll have to give her name, and then Grandfather will find us surely."
Jess agreed, and together the two older children kept changing the cool cloths on Violet's aching head. But about ten o'clock that night Violet had a chill. She shivered and shook, and her teeth chattered so that Jess could plainly hear them. Apparently nothing could warm the little girl, although she was completely packed in hay and pine needles.
"I'm going down to Dr. McAllister's," said Henry quietly. "I'm afraid Violet is very ill."
Nobody ever knew how fast he ran down the hill. Even in his famous race, Henry hardly touched his present speed. He was so thoroughly frightened that he never stopped to notice how quickly the doctor seemed to understand what was wanted. He did not even notice that he did not have to tell the doctor which way to drive his car in order to reach the hill. When the car reached the road at the base of the hill, Dr. McAllister said shortly, "Stay here in the car," and disappeared up the hill alone.
When the doctor returned he was carrying Violet in his arms. Jess and Benny and Watch were following closely. Nobody spoke during the drive to the McAllister house as they flew through the darkness. When they stopped at last, the doctor said three words to his mother, who opened the door anxiously.
The three words were, "Pneumonia, I'm afraid." They all heard it.
Irish Mary appeared from the kitchen with hot-water bottles and warm blankets, and Mrs. McAllister flew around, opening beds and bringing pillows. A trained nurse in a white dress appeared like magic from nowhere in particular. They all worked as best they could to get the sick child warmed up. Soon the hot blankets, hot water, and steaming drinks began to take effect and the shivering stopped.
Mrs. McAllister left the sick room then, to attend to the other children. Henry and Benny were left in a large spare room with a double bed. Jess was put in a little dressing room just out of Mrs. McAllister's own room. Upon receiving assurances that Violet was warm again, they went to sleep.
But Violet was not out of danger, for she soon grew as hot as she had been cold. And the doctor never left her side until ten o'clock the next morning. Violet, although very ill, did not have pneumonia.
At about nine o'clock the doctor had a visitor. It was a man who said he would wait. He did wait in the cool front parlor for over half an hour. Then Benny drifted in.
"Whereisthe doctor?" asked the man sharply of Benny.
"He's nupstairs," answered Benny readily.
"This means a lot of money to him, if he only knew it," said the visitor impatiently.
"Oh,thatwouldn't make any difference," Benny replied with great assurance as he started to go out again. But the man caught him.
"What do you mean by that, sonny?" he asked curiously. "What's he doing?"
"He's taking care of my sister Violet. She's sick."
"And you mean he wouldn't leave her even if I gave him a lot of money?"
"Yes, that's it," said Benny politely. "That's what I mean."
The visitor seemed to restrain his impatience with a great effort. "You see, I've lost a little boy somewhere," he said. "The doctor knows where he is, I think. He would be about as old as you are."
"Well, if you don't find him, you can have me, I shouldn't wonder," observed Benny comfortingly. "I like you."
"You do?" said the man in surprise.
"That's because you've got such a nice, soft suit on," explained Benny, stroking the man's knee gently. The gentleman laughed heartily.
"No, I guess it's because you have such a nice, soft laugh," said Benny changing his mind. The fact was that Benny himself did not know why he liked this stranger who was so gruff at times and so pleasant at others. He finally accepted the man's invitation and climbed into his lap to see his dog's picture in his watch, feeling of the "nice soft suit," on the way. The doctor found him here when he came down at ten o'clock.
"Better go and find Watch, Benny," suggested the doctor.
"Perhaps some day I'll come again," observed Benny to his new friend. "I like your dog, and I'm sorry he's dead." With that he scampered off to find Watch, who was very much alive.
"I expected you, Mr. Cordyce," said the doctor smiling, "only not quite so soon."
"I came the moment I heard your name hinted at," said James Cordyce. "My chauffeur heard two workmen say that you knew where my four grandchildren were. That's all I waited to hear. Is it true? And where are they?"
"That was one of them," said the doctor quietly.
"That was one of them!" repeated the man. "That beautiful little boy?"
"Yes, he is beautiful," assented Dr. McAllister. "They all are. The only trouble is, they're all frightened to death to think of your finding them."
"How do you know that?" said Mr. Cordyce, sharply.
"They've changed their name. At least the older boy did. In public, too."
"What did he change it to?"
Dr. McAllister watched his visitor's face closely while he pronounced the name clearly, "Henry James."
A flood of recollections passed over the man's face, and he flushed deeply.
"That boy!" he exclaimed. "That wonderful running boy?"
Then events began to move along rapidly.
"They never will go with you in this world," declared Mrs. McAllister finally to the distracted grandfather, "unless you give us time to break the news gradually. And above all, when Violet is so ill."
"Couldn't I see them?" begged the man, almost like a boy. "I could pretend I was a friend of yours, visiting you, who liked children. I would promise not to tell them until you consented."
"That might do," said Dr. McAllister. "If they grew to like you before they knew who you were, it would make things easier, certainly."
So James Henry Cordyce's chauffeur was sent for a gold-monogrammed suitcase and his young man to wait upon him, and Irish Mary held up her hands in despair when she learned for whom she must cook.
"Don't you worry, Mary Bridget Flynn," said Dr. McAllister with emphasis. "You could cook for the King of England! Just make one of your peach shortcakes for lunch and broil a chicken, and I'll answer for him."
When lunch time came J. H. Cordyce saw all his grandchildren except Violet. He smiled with delight when he saw Jess coming down the stairs in her womanly fashion. Henry shook hands with him before he sat down, but he kept glancing at the stranger all through the meal.
"Where have I seen that man before?" he thought.
Mrs. McAllister had given the children's names clearly when she introduced them—Jess, Benny, and Henry. Henry James, she had added. But she had not added the man's name.
"She forgot," thought Jess. "Because she knows him so well, she thinks we do."
But although nameless, the stranger caught their attention. He told them wonderful stories about a steel rail which held up an entire bridge until the people had time to get off, about his collie dog, about a cucumber in his garden, growing inside of a glass bottle. Henry was interested. Benny was fascinated.
"I'd like to see the cucumber," said Benny, pausing in the middle of his shortcake.
"Would you, indeed?" said Mr. Cordyce, delighted. "Some day, if Mrs. McAllister is willing, you and I will ride over to my garden and pick it."
"And we'll bring it to Violet?" asked Benny, waiting breathlessly for an answer.
"We'll bring it to Violet," agreed Mr. Cordyce, resuming his shortcake.
After lunch he went to sleep in the easy-chair in the doctor's big office. That is, he threw his head back and shut his eyes, and breathed very heavily. Jess went through the room once with ice water, humming, for Violet was better. But the moment she saw the stranger asleep, she stopped her singing abruptly and tiptoed the rest of the way. Then as suddenly she turned around and came back, and very carefully shoved a cushion under the man's feet. It was so gently done that even if he had been really asleep, he would never have wakened. As it was, he could not resist opening one eye the slightest crack to see the bright chestnut hair as it passed out of sight.
"No," he thought to himself, "if she really hated me, she would never have done that."
But the children were very far from hating him. They liked him immensely. And when at last, one day, he was allowed to see Violet, and came softly into her room with a nosegay of fragrant English double violets, for her, they loved him. He won all their hearts when he patted her dark head and told her very simply that he was sorry she had been sick.
It would be hard to say that J. H. Cordyce ever had a favorite grandchild, but certainly his manner with Violet was very gentle. It was clear to every one, even to the anxious nurse, that the stranger was not tiring the sick child. He told her in a pleasant everyday voice about his garden and his greenhouses where the violets came from—about the old Swede gardener who always said he must "vater the wi-lets."
"I'd love to see him," said Violet earnestly.
"How long you going to stay here?" Benny piped up.
It was not altogether a polite question, but it was clear to them all that Benny wanted him to stay, so they all laughed.
"As long as they'll let me, my boy," answered the stranger quietly. Then he left the sick room, for he knew he should not stay long.
But something in the man's last sentence rang in Henry's ears. He repeated it over and over in his mind, trying to remember where he had heard that same voice say "my boy." He made an excuse to work in the flower beds along the veranda, in order to glance occasionally at the man's face, as he sat under a tree reading.
Often Henry thought he had caught hold of his truant memory. Then the man turned his head and he lost it again altogether. But suddenly it came to him, as the man smiled over his book—it was the man who had shaken hands with him on the day of the race! And he had said, "I like your spirit, my boy." That was it.
Henry sat down out of sight and weeded geraniums for a few moments. It is a wonder he did not pull up geraniums instead of weeds, his mind was so far away.
"I didn't remember him at first, because I was so jolly excited when he shook hands with me," decided Henry. Then he was apparently thunderstruck afresh. He sat with his weeder on his knee and his mouth open. "He's the man who passed me the cup with the wings!" He stole another look around the corner, and this satisfied him. "Same man exactly," he said.
When he had finished the flower bed he thought he heard the young doctor moving in the office. He stuck his head in the open door. The doctor sat at his desk, taking notes from a book.
"Do you know who presented the prizes Field Day?" asked Henry curiously. "Know what his name was?"
"James Cordyce, of the Steel Mills," replied the doctor carelessly. "J. H. Cordyce—over in Greenfield."
Dr. McAllister, to all appearances, returned to his notes. His eyes were lowered, at any rate. But for Henry the skies were reeling. He withdrew his head and sat still on the step. That delightful man hisgrandfather? It was impossible. He was too young, to begin with. Henry expected a white-haired gentleman with a cane and a terrible voice. But all the time, he knew in his soul that it was not only possible, but really true. He recalled the man's reply to Benny's direct question—he had said he was going to stay as long as they would let him. Could it be that the man knew them without introducing himself? A perfect torrent of thoughts assailed Henry as he sat crouched on the office steps. It was clear to him now that Mrs. McAllister had failed to mention his name on purpose. It was a wonder Benny hadn't asked what it was, long before this. He noticed that the man was getting out of his chair under the trees.
"It's now or never," thought Henry. "I've got to know!"
He walked eagerly after the man who was going toward the garden with his back turned. Henry easily caught up with him, breathing with difficulty. The man turned around.
"Are you James Henry Cordyce of Greenfield?" panted Henry.
"I am, my boy," returned the man with a long look. "Does that question of yours mean thatyouknow thatIknow that you are Henry James Cordyce?"
"Yes," said Henry, simply.
The man's eyes filled with tears, and J. H. Cordyce of the Steel Mills shook hands for the third time with his grandson, H. J. Cordyce of the Home for Tramps.
In less than an hour the town was buzzing with the news. The chauffeur told the maids and the maids told the grocery man, and the grocery man went from house to house telling that old James Cordyce had found his four grandchildren at last. In fact the biggest part of the town knew it before the children themselves.
Jess and Benny came across the lawn to select some white moonflowers for Violet's tray. They were just in time to hear Henry say, "But, Grandfather—"
"Grandfather!" echoed Jess, whirling around to gaze at them.
"Yes, Jess," said Henry eagerly. "He's the man we've been running away from all this time."
"I thought you was old," observed Benny. "And awf'ly cross. Jess said so."
"I didn't know, Benny," said Jess turning pink. To think of running away from this kind friend!
But her grandfather did not seem to mind. He stroked her short silky hair and proposed that they all go up into Violet's room with the moonflowers. There was no stopping Benny. He rushed into Violet's room, dragging his grandfather by one hand, and shouting, "It's Grandfather, Violet, and he's nice, after all, I shouldn't wonder!"
When Violet at last understood just what Benny was trying to tell, she was perfectly happy to rest against her ruffled pillows with one hand curled about her grandfather's arm, and listen to the rest.
"Wherehave you been living?" demanded Mr. Cordyce at last.
The whole company looked at each other, even Dr. McAllister and his mother. Then they all laughed as if they never would stop.
"You just ought to see!" observed Dr. McAllister, wiping his eyes.
"What?" said the children all at once. "Younever saw it in the daytime!"
"You don't mean it!" returned the doctor, teasing them. "I have seen it quite a number of times in the daytime."
"Seen what, in heaven's name?" asked Mr. Cordyce at last.
Then they told him, interrupting each other to tell about the beds of pine needles, the wonderful dishes, the freight-car roof over all, the fireplace, and the swimming pool.
"That's where Violet got her bronchitis," observed the doctor, "sitting by that pool. She shouldn't have done it. I thought so from the first."
"Youthought so?" repeated Henry, puzzled. "How did you know she sat by it? I'm sure I didn't myself."
"I was your most frequent visitor," declared the doctor, enjoying himself hugely.
"I hope you were ouronlyone," said Jess with her mouth open.
"Well, I think I was," said the doctor. "The first night after Henry mowed my lawn I followed him as far as the hill to see where he lived."
"Why did you do that?" interrupted Mr. Cordyce.
"I liked his looks," returned the doctor. "And I noticed that he didn't tell much about himself, so I was curious."
"But you surely didn't see the freight car then," said Jess.
"No, but I came back that night and hunted around," replied Dr. McAllister.
"At about eleven o'clock!" Henry cried. The doctor assented.
"Our rabbit!" said Henry and Jess together.
"I made as little noise as possible when I saw the freight car. Then I saw the door move, so I thought some one was inside. And when I heard the dog bark I was sure of it, and went home."
"But you came back?" questioned Jess.
"Yes, every time I knew all of you were safe in my garden, I made you a little visit, just to be sure you were having enough to eat, and enough dishes." The doctor laughed. "When I found you had a strainer, and a vase of flowers, and a salt-shaker, and a cut-glass punch bowl, I stopped worrying."
"Didn't you suspect they were my children?" demanded Mr. Cordyce. "Didn't you see my advertisement? Why didn't you notify me at once?"
"They were having such a good time," confessed the doctor. "AndIwas, too. I just wanted to see how long they could manage their own affairs. It was all tremendously interesting. Why, that boy and girl of yours are born business managers, Mr. Cordyce!"
Mr. Cordyce took note of this.
"But I don't see, yet, how you knew Violet sat by the pool," said Jess curiously.
"You couldn't know that, of course," replied the doctor. "I went up twice when I knew Henry had taken the dog down to my barn to catch rats. I hid behind the big white rock with the flat top."
"That's Lookout Rock," explained Jess, "where we used to let Benny watch for Henry. But we didn't hear you."
"No," said Dr. McAllister. "I didn't even snap a twig those times. But I had the very best time when I went with Mother."
"Have you seen it, too?" cried the children.
"I have, indeed!" returned Mrs. McAllister. "I have even had a drink from your well."
"Every one has seen it but me," said Mr. Cordyce patiently.
"We'll show it to you!" screamed Benny. "And I'll show you my wheels made on a cart, and my bed out of hay, and my pink cup!"
"Good for you, Benny," said Mr. Cordyce, pleased. "When Violet gets well, we'll all go up there, and if you'll show me your house, I'll show you mine."
"Have you got a house?" asked Benny in surprise.
"Yes. You can live there with me, if you like it," replied Mr. Cordyce. "I have been looking for you for nearly two months."
Under Mrs. McAllister's wonderful care, Violet soon became strong again. But she had been skipping around the garden for several days before the doctor would allow the visit to the freight-car house. When at last the whole party started out in the great limousine, many people looked out of their windows to watch after Mr. Cordyce and his grandchildren. Many of them knew Henry as the boy who won the race, and were glad that he had found such a friend.
But when the children reached their beloved home they were like wild things. Watch capered about furiously, taking little swims in the pool and sniffing at all the dear old familiar things. Mr. Cordyce seated himself on a rock and watched them all, exchanging a glance now and then with Mrs. McAllister and her son.
"See our 'building,'" shouted Benny, for that was what he always called the fireplace. "It burnsreally, too. And this is the well, and this is the dishpan, and this is the 'frigerator'!"
At last every one climbed into the car itself, and Mr. Cordyce saw the beds, the cash account on the wall, the wonderful shelf, and each separate dish. Each dish had a story of its own.
"That's more than my dishes have," observed Mr. Cordyce.
Mrs. McAllister, who knew what his dishes were, was silent.
They ate chicken sandwiches on the very same tablecloth, and Benny drank from his pink cup, and Watch couldn't understand why they went away at all.
But it was a trifle cool on the hill now when the sun began to sink, and after rolling the door shut, they left regretfully.
"Tomorrow," suggested Mr. Cordyce, as they drove home, "will you all come and see my house?"
"Oh, yes," agreed the children happily, little dreaming what was in store for them on the next day and all the days to come.
Mr. Cordyce had been planning this day for more than a week. He had sent his most trusted foreman to his own beautiful home, to superintend matters there. The house was being remodeled entirely, after Mr. Cordyce's own plans, and everywhere were carpenters, painters and decorators.
On the very day that Mr. Cordyce received word that it was finished, he suggested the drive.
"Do you live all alone, Grandfather?" asked Benny.
"All alone," answered Mr. Cordyce. "No company at all." At first Benny did not consider this the exact truth. He considered a cook company, and also a butler, and a housekeeper. And when he saw the array of maids he kept perfectly quiet. The house was enormous, certainly. It was at least a quarter of a mile from its own front gate—and everywhere were gardens.
"Do you livehere?" said Henry, thunderstruck, as they rolled quietly along the beautiful drive.
"You do, too, if you like it," observed his grandfather, watching his face.
The inside of the house was more wonderful than even the older children had ever dreamed. The velvet rugs were so thick and soft that no footfall could be heard. Everywhere were flowers. The great stairway with steps of marble rose from the center of the big hallway. But it was upstairs that the children felt most at home.
Here the rooms were not quite so large. They were sunny and homelike.
"This is Violet's room!" cried Benny. It was unmistakable. There were violets on the wallpaper. The bed was snow white with a thick quilt of violet silk. On the little table were English violets, pouring their fragrance into the room.
"What a beautiful room!" sighed Violet, sinking down into one of the soft cushioned chairs.
But all the children shouted when they saw Benny's room. The wallpaper was blue, covered with large figures of cats and dogs, the Three Bears, and Peter Rabbit. There was a swinging rocking-horse, nearly as large as a real horse, a blackboard, a tool chest, and low tables and chairs exactly the right size for Benny. There was an electric train with cars nearly as large as the little boy himself.
"Can I run the cars all day?" asked Benny.
"Oh, no," replied Henry quickly. "You're going to school as soon as it begins."
This was the first that his grandfather had heard about school, but he agreed with Henry, and chuckled to himself.
"The finest schools in the country," he said. This came true, for all the children finally went to the public schools, and are they not the finest schools in the country?
In Jess' room Benny discovered a bed for Watch. It was, in fact, a regular dog's straw hamper, but it was lined with heavy quilted silk and padded with wool. Watch got in at once, sniffed in every corner, turned around three times, and lay down.
Just then a distant doorbell rang. It had such a low, musical chime that the children listened delightedly, never once giving a thought as to who it might be.
But almost at once a soft-footed servant appeared, saying that a man wanted to see Mr. Cordyce "about the dog." The moment Jess heard that word "dog" she was frightened. She had never thought Watch a common runaway dog, and it always made her uncomfortable to see passers-by gaze curiously at him as he ran by her side.
"They won't take Watch away?" she whispered to Henry, her breath almost gone.
"Indeed they will not!" declared Henry. "We'll never,nevergive him up."
However, Henry followed his grandfather and Jess with great anxiety.
It was indeed about Watch that the man wanted to talk, and Jess' heart sank again when she saw the dog jump delightedly upon the man, and return his caresses with short barks.
"He's a runaway, sir, from my kennels out in Townsend," the man explained to Mr. Cordyce. "I have two hundred Airedales out there, and this one was sold the day before he ran away. So you see I have to turn him over to the lady I sold him to."
"Oh, no, you don't," returned Mr. Cordyce quickly. "I will give you three times what the dog is worth."
The man glanced around uneasily. "I couldn't do that, sir," he explained. "You see, it isn't a question of money; it's a question of my promised word to the lady."
Mr. Cordyce failed to "see." "She can find another dog, among two hundred Airedales, I guess," he returned. "And, besides, you don't know positively that this is the right dog."
"Excuse me," replied the man, very much embarrassed, "he's the dog, all right. He knows me, as you see. His name is Rough No. 3. He has a black spot inside his ear."
It was too true. Indeed, at the mere mention of his name the dog cocked an ear and wagged his tail. But he had seated himself as close to Jess as possible, and licked her hand when she patted him.
But it appeared that Henry could understand the man's position even if Mr. Cordyce could not. He now put in a timid word of his own.
"If the lady would agree to let the dog go, would you be willing?"
"Sure," said the man, shooting a glance at Henry.
"I almost know any one would let us keep Watch, Grandfather," said Henry earnestly, "if they knew how much he had done for us."
"I'm sure of it, my boy," returned Mr. Cordyce kindly.
The fact that Henry had been the first to make headway with the dog fancier, had not escaped him.
But it was clear that Jess would not be able to sleep until the matter had been settled, so the moment the man had gone, the children set out from their beautiful new home to the address of the lady who had bought Watch.
The big car purred along from Greenfield to Townsend in no time. And the whole family, including Watch himself, trooped up the veranda steps to interview the lady who held it in her power to break their hearts, or to make them very happy.
She was not terrible to look at. In fact she was quite young, quite lively, and very, very pretty. She asked them all to sit down, which they did gravely, for even Benny was worried about losing "Watchie," his favorite pillow. He could not wait for his grandfather to begin. He struggled down from his chair and dashed over to the young lady saying, in one breath, "You'll let us keep Watchie, please, won't you, because we want him so bad, and Jess didn't know he was your dog?"
By degrees the lady understood just what dog it was.
"We have had him so long," explained Henry, eagerly, "it would be almost like letting Benny go away. Watch never leaves us even for a minute, ever since Jess took the briar out of his foot."
"So you are the children who lived in the freight car!" observed the lively young lady. "I've heard all about that. How did you like it?"
"All right," replied Henry, with an effort. "But we never could have done it without Watch. He stayed and looked after the girls while I was away, and he just thinks everything of Jess."
"Well," said the young lady, laughing, "I can see you're worrying terribly about that dog. Now listen! I wouldn't take that dog away from you any more than I'd take Benny! In fact, not so much. I think maybe I'd like to keep Benny instead."
Benny was apparently quite willing that she should. He climbed into her lap before any one could stop him, and gave her one of his best bear hugs. And from that moment they were firm friends. But the children always spoke of her as the "lady who owns Watch," although Mr. Cordyce paid for the dog in less time than you can imagine. It made no difference to the children that Watch was a very valuable dog. They had loved him when he had not been worth a cent; and now they loved him more, simply because they had so nearly lost him.
It was a happy and reunited family which gathered around the Cordyce dining table that evening. The maids smiled in the kitchen to hear the children laugh; and the children laughed because Watch actually sat up at the table in the seat of honor beside Jess, and was waited upon by a butler.
Would you ever dream that four children could be homesick in such a beautiful house as Mr. Cordyce's? Jess was the first one to long for the old freight car.
"O Grandfather," she said one morning, "I wish I could cook something once more in the old kettle."
"Go out in the kitchen," said her grandfather, "and mess around all you like. The maids will help you."
Jess brightened up at once, and flew out into the kitchen, where three or four maids brought her everything she wanted to cook with.
And Benny was the last one to wish for his old home.
"Grandfather," he said one day, "I wish I could drink this milk out of my own pink cup!"
This set Mr. Cordyce to thinking. He had plenty of pink cups, it is true, but none of them were as dear to Benny as his own.
"I think I shall have to surprise you children," said Mr. Cordyce at last. "But before the surprise comes, perhaps you would like to see Benny's pony." Then he led the way to the stables. He owned several beautiful horses already, and nearly a dozen wonderful cars. But nothing was half so interesting as the pony. He was very small and very fat and black. His wavy tail was so long that it nearly touched the ground. And his name was "Cracker," because his birthday fell on the Fourth of July, when firecrackers were popping.
Benny took a short ride around the stable, being "held on" by a groom. But the second time around, he said, "Cracker doesn't need you to hold onto him, I shouldn't wonder," and trotted around with great delight, without help.
All the others sat down on the fragrant hay to watch him ride.
"What am I going to do when I grow up, Grandfather?" asked Henry.
"You're going to take my place, Henry, as president of the steel mills," replied Mr. Cordyce. "You will do it better than I ever have." (And one day this came true, just as most of Mr. Cordyce's prophecies did.)
"And what am I going to do?" asked Jess, curiously.
"All you children must go to school and then to college. Then you may do whatever you choose for a living," replied Mr. Cordyce. (This also came true.)
"Of course I have more than enough money to support us all," went on Mr. Cordyce, "but if you have something to do, you will be happier." (This not only came true, but it is always and forever true, all over the world.)
"Am I going to college tomorrow?" asked Benny, stopping his little pony in front of the group.
"Not tomorrow, Benny," said his grandfather, laughing. "But I 'm glad you reminded me. All you children must go over to Dr. McAllister's tomorrow, and stay while the surprise comes."
"Is the surprise very nice?" asked Benny.
"No, not very," replied Mr. Cordyce with a twinkle.
"Did it cost a great deal?" asked Jess.
"It didn't cost me anything," answered her grandfather. "The only thing I shall have to pay will be express." (He didn't tell them that the express cost him several hundred dollars.)
However, next day the children rode gladly over to see the kind doctor. They stayed until Mr. Cordyce telephoned to them that the surprise was ready. And then Mrs. McAllister and her son rode back with them in the big car.
Mr. Cordyce was as happy as a boy. He led the merry little procession out through his many gardens, past the rose garden, through the banks of purple asters. Then they came to an Italian garden with a fountain in the middle, and a shady little wood around the edge. Among the trees was the surprise. It was the old freight car! The children rushed over to it with cries of delight, pushed back the dear old door, and scrambled in. Everything was in place. Here was Benny's pink cup, and here was his bed. Here was the old knife which had cut butter and bread, and vegetables, and firewood, and string, and here were the letters for Benny's primer. Here was the big kettle and the tablecloth. And hanging on a near-by tree was the old dinner bell. Benny rang the bell over and over again, and Watch rolled on the floor and barked himself hoarse.
The children were never homesick after that. To be sure, a dull and ugly freight car looked a little strange in a beautiful Italian garden. But it was never dull or ugly to the Cordyce children or their dog. They never were so happy as when showing visitors each beauty of their beloved old home. And there were many visitors. Some of them were fascinated by the stories of the wonderful dishes and the shelf. And the children never grew tired of telling them over and over again.
One summer day, many years afterward, Watch climbed out of his beautiful padded silk bed, and barked until Henry lifted him into the freight car. There he lay down on the hard, splintery floor, blinking his eyes in the sun, and watching the children as they sat studying by the fountain.
"He likes the old home best," said Jess Cordyce, smiling at him and patting his rough back.
And as Benny would say, if he hadn't grown up, "That's true, I shouldn't wonder."