It was slow work, and anyone less tenacious than Hugh might have given up all hope of making a discovery. He believed, however, that if no other way arose by means of which they could find out what they sought, some time or other Joey was apt to let fall a word that might lead to discoveries.
The doctor came before bedtime, and said his patient was getting along nicely.
"Given one more day, and possibly by Sunday she may come into her senses again," he told them before leaving. "And then she can thank you, madam, for all your kind heart has done for her. But that little boy is a sunbeam for any house. I have half a mind to steal him myself."
Many a fellow in Scranton felt blue early on Saturday morning, when, jumping from his warm bed, and hastening over to a window, he looked out to discover a few flakes of snow lazily drifting earthwards.
The gloomy sky seemed to be in fit condition for a heavy snowfall, that would put the hockey game with Keyport entirely out of the question.
By the time breakfast was ready, however, these fugitive snowflakes had ceased falling entirely, and, shortly afterwards, the bright sun broke out, lifting the load from myriads of enthusiastic young hearts.
After all, it turned out a perfectly glorious winter's day, the air being keen, but with little wind to mar the work of the contenders on the icy rink.
Along about nine in the morning people began to gather at the park, paying for seats in the grandstand. Everybody was as warmly clad as possible, since it is no joke to sit for an hour or two, with the thermometer registering half-way down to zero.
As before, one-half of the enclosed area was shut off from the general public, in order to afford the | hockey players the benefit of the new ice. Of course, it had been flooded on the preceding night, after the last skater had left, and this caused a splendid surface to congeal.
Boys and girls came flocking to the place. Many bore skates, but there were others who only wished to witness the contest between the two rival high-school teams, as scheduled for that morning. There were hosts of other people present also; and already cars and conveyances of every description were arriving from Keyport, Allandale, Belleville, and such places, filled with eager enthusiasts, who loved a good hockey game above all sports, and would journey far afield in order to be present when one was to be played.
Shortly afterwards some of the Scranton players appeared on the enclosed area. Their coming was greeted with all sorts of cries, meant, for the most part, as encouragement, and expressing a firm belief in their ability to win out.
"We're pinning our faith on you boys. Dugdale, remember!" cried one fellow.
"Don't let them get too big a start on you, because they're terrible fighters, once they get a lead!" came from another, who, having lived in Keyport, was supposed to know the characteristics of the boys on that team.
"And, Hobson, always remember that it's the longest pole that knocks the persimmons!" whooped a third fellow student.
Thad and Hugh were sitting on a low bench, adjusting their skates leisurely, and listening in an amused way to much of this friendly badinage.
"The boys are certainly wanting to win this game, Hugh," chuckledThad. "Makes me think of some of the warm sessions we had lastsummer in baseball contests with Allandale and Belleville. ["TheChums of Scranton High in the Three-Town League."]
"It seems as if Scranton boys and girls have developed a voracious appetite for every kind of out-door sport lately," Hugh went on to say. "Did you hear what the committee in charge of the grounds here intends to do next week?"
"Haven't heard a whisper so far, Hugh; so give me the news," pleaded the other.
"Why, you know the fellows have been building bonfires here at night-times when skating. It was all very fine, but there seemed to be considerable worry about the new high fence taking fire and burning during the night. So they've concluded to run wires across from side to side, and string electric lights for use on dark nights, but only when the skating is good."
Thad looked pleased.
"Why, that's a boss idea; who suggested it, Hugh?" he demanded.
"Oh! somebody just happened to think of it, and the committee agreed it was a good scheme," returned Hugh; but something about his manner told Thad the truth.
"Huh! I can give a pretty good guess who that smart chap is; but don't bother trying to deny it, Hugh. The only bad thing about it in my mind is that we'll miss those jolly fires. It's always been so fine to skate up and stand before one, to get warm, and hear the flames crackle, while the girl you're skating with sits on a log, or something like that, to warm her feet."
"Oh! well, when you want the romantic side of night-skating, Thad, you'll have to go out to Hobson's mill-pond, like you say you used to do. There, with plenty of wood handy, you can have the biggest fire you feel like making. Here, so close to town, we have to get our light in a more modern way. Now, I reckon I'm ready for any sort of a scrimmage that comes along."
A shout presently announced that the boys from Keyport had arrived in a big car of the "rubber-neck" variety, with five seats across; and used for sight-seeing purposes, or any excursion where a dozen or twenty wished to go in a crowd.
A little later the fellows came on the ice in a body, with their distinguishing jerseys. They appeared to be an exceedingly lively bunch, and were soon spinning about, displaying a nimbleness that excited apprehensions in many a loyal Scranton heart.
As boys need little introduction, the opposing players quickly intermingled, and seemed on the best of terms. Captain Mossman and Hugh paired off, to talk over matters connected with the game. They were soon joined by Mr. Leonard, and several gentlemen, some from Keyport, others hailing from Allandale and Belleville.
It was soon decided that the officials should be chosen as far as possible from neutral territory. There were to be a referee, an assistant referee, two goal umpires, as many timekeepers, and a pair of penalty timekeepers.
Fortunately, Allandale and its sister town had quite a quota of former college players and gentlemen who had been members of famous hockey clubs in Canada and elsewhere when younger. They had kept in touch with the progress of events, so that they were eminently qualified to act in the various capacities to which they were now assigned by Mr. Leonard and the coach of the Keyport Seven.
Hugh kept looking around from time to time. He wished to be posted as to what other promising players connected with Scranton High were on the ice, so that in case of necessity he could call on one of them to take the place of an injured Scranton boy.
And when he finally noted that Nick Lang had arrived, and was on his skates, somehow Hugh seemed relieved. Deep down in his heart he believed that should he have occasion to replace a player, as the rules allowed, on account of serious injury, which is about the only excuse for such a thing, Nick would be his first choice.
He wished now he had spoken to Nick about it, so that he could depend on his remaining throughout the game. There was not another fellow who would be of such great benefit to Scranton as the boy now wearing Hugh's old hockey skates. But it was too late to think of seeking him out, for the game was about to be called.
When the rival teams faced each other, and listened to the last instructions of the head referee, they were found to line up as follows:
Scranton HighPositionKeyportStevens ………. Goal ………… KelloggHobson ……….. Point ……….. AckersonDanvers ………. Cover Point ….. BellSmith ………… Right End ……. EllyDugdale ………. Center ………. BraxtonJuggins ………. Left End …….. MossmanMorgan ……….. Rover ……….. Jackson
Hugh faced Mossman when the puck was dropped on the ice, and play began. There was a furious scramble, but Hugh came out of it first-best, for he bore away the little elusive rubber disc, and managed to carry it some distance down toward Keyport's goal before losing control. Then the fun became fast and furious, indeed. Those agile skaters whirled back and forth across the smooth ice with every imaginable turn and twist.
Clever plays were continually occurring on either side, and these were greeted with outbursts of enthusiastic cheering.
The crowd really seemed very impartial and sportsmanlike, considering that possibly four-fifths of it represented the local team, and might be supposed to feel prejudiced in their favor. They shouted themselves fairly hoarse over a brilliant dash on the part of Captain Mossman, whereby he outwitted his opponents, and, despite all Thad's efforts to block the play, shot the puck home in the cage for the first well-won goal of the game.
Later on Owen Dugdale repeated the performance in almost as masterly a manner. The applause was, if anything, a shade more uproarous. Now the game went on evenly, with a goal apiece; but Keyport was out for scoring and would not be denied; so, in a hurry, they pushed the fighting down on Scranton territory, and put another goal to their credit, though three times did Thad balk the effort before it was accomplished.
When the first twenty minutes had expired the score was six to five.Keyport was ahead, but the margin was so small that no one despaired.
After the intermission they went at it once more, "hammer-and-tongs." Thus far no one had been injured seriously enough to more than delay the game a few minutes, and, before the fatal seven had expired, the fellow who had been hurt was able to take his place in the line; so no substitutes were called on. Hugh was glad of this, though he frequently shot a quick glance around to see if Nick Lang still hung about; which he certainly did, being deeply interested in the game.
The second half was even more fiercely contested than the previous one had been. Scranton rallied behind Hugh, and put up a savage attack that carried them up a couple of pegs, the score then standing eight to seven; but after a bit Keyport came back and tied it again. So it remained until the limit of the game approached perilously near, and it seemed as though an extension of time would have to be granted, as the rules allowed. But at the last minute, Hugh himself carried out a daring steal of the puck; and, before the opposing players could block him, shot it into their net for the winning score.
Before the players could get in position again, and the puck be faced, the whistle of the referee declared the game over, with Scranton a bare winner.
The Keyport players were plainly greatly chagrined, but they proved game losers, and had not a fault to find, shaking hands cheerfully with their late opponents, and expressing a hope that a return match could be arranged on their rink at some date not far in the future.
It was well on toward noon when Hugh, tired of skating for one day, started homeward. For a wonder he walked by himself, something Hugh seldom had happen; for if his chum Thad Stevens was not at his side, some other fellow, possibly several, would be sure to hurry so as to catch up with him.
But Thad had been compelled to go home an hour before on some account, his folks having certain plans that forced him to accompany them immediately after lunch.
Hugh was feeling a bit tired, but in good spirits, nevertheless, because of the clever victory his team had won, in which he had borne his part consistently. It always gives a boy a warm sensation around the region of his heart to realize that he has not failed those who put their faith in his ability. How many can look back with a feeling of pride to that "great day" when it was their home-run drive, or whistling three-bagger that pulled the home team out of a slump, and started a batting-bee that, eventually, won the game? Those days are marked with a red letter in the pages of memory.
When part way to town, for the athletic grounds lay outside the limits of Scranton, though not far away, Hugh suddenly discovered a familiar figure just ahead of him, which, somehow, he had not noticed up to then. It was Nick Lang. He had his skates dangling over his shoulder by a strap, and Hugh could actually catch his whistle as he strode along.
Somehow this told him Nick was feeling in higher spirits than had lately been the case. Perhaps he was beginning to feel a new confidence in himself, Hugh suspected. In the beginning Nick must have seriously doubted his ability to, as some of the boys would have called it, "come across, and deliver the goods," when he set out to reform his ways.
He had now been keeping up the pace for more than a week. It was gradually growing easier, too, the further he went along the unfamiliar road. People did not sneer quite so much at him as in the beginning. Some even ventured to give him a half-friendly nod when they chanced to meet.
And so for the first time perhaps since that day when he made up his mind, Nick was unconsciously whistling as he walked along, his thoughts busy with matters connected with his set purpose.
Obeying an impulse Hugh quickened his pace.
"Oh, Nick! Hold on a minute, will you?" he called out.
On turning his head quickly and seeing who it was, Nick stopped short in his tracks. He was looking a little confused, yet not displeased, when Hugh reached him.
Hugh thrust out his hand, and, of course, Nick had to accept it, though he did look a little awkward, because this was a new experience with him. Still, he gave Hugh's digits a fierce squeeze that might be taken as an index to his feelings toward his one-time hated enemy.
"I've been wanting to have a little chat with you for some time, Nick," the other hastened to say; "but somehow every chance I got something would interfere, and the best I could do was to wave my hand, or give you a nod. Now this morning, just as I started to skate through the crowd to say something important to you, the coach called me back and said they were ready to start play. Do you know what it was I meant to ask of you this morning, Nick?"
Nick looked puzzled and curious also.
"I might guess it in a week, Hugh," he said, grinning; "but not right away. You see, I ain't used to havinganybodyask things of me. It's generally been a scowl, and a suspicious look, as if they thought I mean to play a trick on 'em if they so much as turned their heads on me. But then that's just what I used to do often enough; so I oughtn't to complain. What did you want with me, Hugh?"
"I was going to ask you to stand by during the entire game, because, in case one of my players was hurt so badly that he'd have to be dropped out, rather than cut both sides down to six, I meant to put you in as substitute, no matter what position had to be filled."
Nick caught his breath. His face flushed, and a glow appeared in his eyes. That expression of confidence shown in Hugh's words filled his aching heart with new encouragement. Hugh could see the muscles of his cheeks working, as though he found it difficult to control his emotions. Then Nick spoke.
"That was mighty kind in you, Hugh, to think of me," he said, with just a suspicious quiver to his voice. "I'd sure liked to have played in that game; but do you think it'd have been wise to have pickedmefor a substitute when there were plenty of other fellows on the ice competent to take the place?"
"Not one able to fill your shoes, Nick, and they know it," assertedHugh stoutly.
"But then if you'd done that there'd sure have been a howl raised later on by lots of folks who still have it in for me because of the past," urged Nick, though it could be easily seen that he felt particularly pleased by what the captain of the Scranton High Seven had just told him.
"Let them howl," Hugh went on to say. "There never yet was a fellow who nobly redeemed his past but what a bunch of wolves set up a howl on his heels. Don't you pay any attention to those fellows, Nick. Stick to your game through thick and thin. Every day you go on as you have been doing you win fresh friends. Even Mr. Leonard, who used to fairly detest you, is now singing your praises; and Dr. Carmack told me he was pinning his faith on you. He's a long-headed man, Nick, a very far-seeing man, who knows boys and is not easily deceived. He believes in you; so do I, and a lot of other fellows. You're going to make good, and I know it."
"Well, I'm going to keep on fighting, that's all I can say, Hugh," replied Nick grimly. "I'll get there, or bust the biler trying. But sometimes I have an awful time with myself, just because I can't wholly believe folks will respect a chap who's done as many mean things as I have in the past."
"You must put that out of your mind, Nick," urged the other. "Why, don't you think I'd have ten times as much respect for the fellow who's been down, and climbs up again through his own will-power, than for the one who's always been shielded from temptation, and never really proved what he had in him? Nine-tenths of the fellows who walk along so straight are kept on that road because they happen to have wise parents to watch over them; and they were never given an overpowering appetite to do wrong things."
Nick drew a long breath. His eyes glistened again, and perhaps with something besides the animation that Hugh's kind and encouraging words kindled within his soul.
"You see," he went on to say, presently, when he could control his voice, "I always did like to run smack up against a hard proposition. It's in my nature to want a good fight, and I reckon I've got it this time. But I'm a whole lot stubborn, too, Hugh, as likely you've learned; and I don't give up easy. Since I started to reform I'm a-going to get there if it takes a leg. Anyhow, it's a heap sight pleasanter doing itoutsidethe Reform School than inside, like some fellows I used to train with are a-going to do, it seems."
All this kind of talk pleased Hugh immensely. He felt more than ever satisfied with the magnificent result of that clever little scheme of his. Reading Hugo's masterpiece had brought it about, too, and he would always have occasion to remember this when handling that volume recording the wonderful achievements of the one-time ignorant convict and human beast named Jean Valjean.
Nick just then saw several other boys hurrying to overtake Hugh. He immediately evinced a desire to start off on a tangent, and head elsewhere.
"I've got an errand over in town, Hugh, so I'll break away," he said hurriedly, though Hugh could easily guess the real reason for his departure. "But I want to tell you I appreciate your kindness, and if in the next hockey match there's need of a substitute, and you see fit to putmein, why, I'll work my fingers to the bone to make good, sure I will."
And Hugh believed it.
Along about three o'clock that afternoon Hugh, feeling refreshed, made up his mind he would go for a walk. There had been no positive change in the condition of the mother of little Joey. She was coming along nicely, though, Doctor Cadmus assured Mrs. Morgan, and would very likely awaken in her proper senses on the following morning. He was successfully combating the inclination towards fever, he told the good lady, and this gave Hugh's mother considerable relief.
The boy was a fine little chap. Hugh had already come to feel a deep interest in him, and had played for an hour with Joey.
"Why not take him out with you, Hugh, if, as you say, you're going for a walk?" asked his mother.
"I'd like to," the boy said, "if you thought he could stand going such a distance as out to the Cross-roads; for I meant to drop in on Deacon Winslow. He asked me to come and see him, and perhaps stay to supper in the bargain, for he wants to have a good chat with me. And, Mother, I've been meaning to get to know that fine old man better; there's something about him that draws me. He's got such healthy ideas about everything, and is an entertaining talker when it comes to the habits of animals, and the secrets of all animated nature."
"Well, I'm sure little Joey would enjoy the walk. He seems fond of being outdoors, and has been shut up here since you brought him home. And if Deacon Winslow urges you both to take supper with him, there's no reason why you should decline. He may fetch you home in his sleigh, if the child seems tired, and sleepy."
Hugh decided he would do as his mother suggested.
"Would you like to take a nice long walk out in the country with me, Joey?" he asked the little fellow, who had been hovering near by, and listening to all that was being said.
"I like to walk," the small chap replied quickly; "but not all day, like mom and me did. Mebbe she'll be awake when we come back, Hugh?"
Each time he had been allowed in the room to see his mother was when she happened to be in a deep sleep, and her ravings had ceased; so it was natural for Joey to conclude she was only making up for lack of rest.
So, shortly afterwards, the two started forth, the little fellow with his hand in that of Hugh. He had come to feel the utmost confidence in this big boy who, in the time of their distress, had fetched himself and his poor fainting mother to the nice warm house, where they seemed to have the nicest things to eat he could ever remember of seeing.
Hugh kept an eye about him, half hoping he might run across Thad, although the other had not expected to return before dusk. No such luck befell him, and so Hugh concluded he must carry out his original scheme, and have only the child for company during his stroll.
Of course, they could not walk at a fast pace, and so it took quite a long time for them to draw near the place where the two roads crossed. Here, at a point where there was much traffic in vehicles, the smithy of the old deacon stood. Time was when he attended only to the shoeing of horses, and such other business as a blacksmith would find in his line. The coming of the auto had made him change his work to some extent; so he kept a line of rubber tires and tubes in his shop, and was capable of doing all ordinary repairing, such as might be found necessary after a minor accident to a car on the road.
It was pleasant, indeed, when the wintry air was so keen, to step up to the open doors of the shop, and see that seething fire in the forge beyond the grim anvil. Mr. Winslow stood there, with his leather apron on, and his woollen sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his brawny arms with their muscles of steel. He was working the bellows and singing softly to himself, after a habit he had when alone.
Apparently, he had let his helper off earlier than customary that afternoon, for the deacon was not a hard employer, and ready to grant favors when business was not rushing.
Hugh stood there and took in the striking picture, with the glowing fire in the forge, that fine, big figure of the old blacksmith standing there. The rosy light played on his strong features as he crooned his song, his thoughts possibly away back in the past, as is the habit of those who near the end of their life span.
Just then little Joey sneezed. The low song of the deacon came to an abrupt end, as he turned his head and discovered the two figures in the open doorway.
He recognized Hugh immediately, and a look of genuine pleasure flashed across his face.
"Is that you, Hugh?" he called out, stopping work with the bellows; "and have you come out to take a bite with the old lady and myself? I'm certainly glad to see you, lad. And who might this fine little chap be?"
It was only natural that a man who loved all boys, little and big, as Deacon Winslow did, should drop down on one knee and take Joey in his arms. When he looked into the little fellow's winsome face he seemed strangely moved. But then in these later days it was always so with the old man; never a child did he see but that long-hidden memories flowed again, and once more he seemed to be looking on his own boy, gone ages and ages ago.
"He and his mother are stopping at our house," said Hugh, meaning to tell how he had come to find them in their extremity, later on, when possibly the child was not present to hear what he said.
"I've just got a small amount of work to finish, and then I'm done for the week," said the brawny smith, as he arose again, winking very fast, it seemed to Hugh, for some reason or other. "Here's a bench you can both sit on, and watch the sparks fly from the anvil when I get my hammer busy. Likely the lad has never seen the same before, and it is always deeply interesting to children, I've found."
So they made themselves comfortable. Little Joey was a bit tired after his long walk, and leaned confidingly up against Hugh, who had thrown an arm about him.
The smiting of the red bar with the hammer caused a shower of sparks to fly in every direction. It was fairly fascinating, and Joey stared with all his might. Even Hugh always enjoyed seeing a blacksmith at work, and hearing the sweet-toned ring of steel smiting steel.
Now and again as he worked, Deacon Winslow would ask some question. He was acquainted with the fact that the boys of Scranton High had expected to play a hockey match that morning with the Keyport team, and as no one had thus far told him how the game came out, he asked Hugh about it.
From this subject the talk drifted to others, always being of a somewhat sporadic nature, caused by the smith's starting work again, after heating his iron bar sufficiently in the fire.
"I'll have the night free, for a wonder," he told Hugh, with a sigh of pleasure. "I try as best I can to avoid working late on Saturday, because I want to be as fresh as possible Sundays, which are always full days for me. So when Nick wanted to come out Saturdays, I induced him to change it to an earlier night instead. By the way, how is the lad coming, on these days with his new resolutions?"
Accordingly, Hugh started in to tell him how Nick was doing finely, and even repeated a part of the little talk he and the other had had that morning, while on the way to town from the park.
Mr. Winslow listened intently, as he worked the bellows.
"I'm very much interested in the outcome of your experiment, Hugh," he said. "It was a clever idea on your part; and now that Nick has made a start I do believe he'll see it through. I always thought he had it in him to work out his own salvation, if ever he got a fair chance. That opportunity has now dawned, and he's on the right road, Hugh; he's on the right road."
"I agree with you there, sir," said the boy. "The very stubborn spirit that used to get him into so much trouble is now going to be his redemption, since he's got it harnessed up to the right sort of vehicle. The more they try to shove Nick off the track the harder he'll be apt to stick."
"It was the luckiest thing that ever happened for him," continued the deacon, "when you hatched up that wonderful plan on the spur of the moment, and tried it out on him. But for that, Hugh, he'd now be locked up with his former mates, and headed for the Reform School at full speed. As it is, he is free to walk the streets, and already beginning to win the confidence of many good people in the town."
Ten minutes afterwards and the brawny smith threw his hammer aside, and commenced to undo the thongs that fastened his leathern apron about his loins.
"I've finished my stint, lad," he said; "and now we can go into the house, where you'll meet my better-half. I've told her so much about you, she is eager to make your acquaintance. As for this fine, manly little chap here, who seems to spring straight into my heart the more I look at him, as if he belonged there, she'll be half-tickled to death at the chance to cuddle him in her motherly arms. Alas! lad, it's been many a long, weary year since she had the privilege of loving a child of her own. Sometimes when I see her sitting there, so quiet like, and looking into the wonderfully brilliant sunset skies, I seem to know what she is thinking about, and I feel for her. It's harder on a mother, than anyone else, to lose her child as we did our poor, reckless boy."
Hugh felt a queer sensation in the region of his heart when he heard the big man speak so mournfully. He realized then as never before how the heart of a parent can never fully recover from a cruel shock, such as the loss of one who as a little child had come, it was hoped, as a ray of sunlight in the lives of those who loved him.
The home of the smith adjoined his shop. There was, in fact, a door that connected them, and through this Deacon Winslow now led his thrice welcome guests. Presently they found themselves in what seemed to be a cozy little sitting-room, where a wood-fire blazed cheerily on the hearth.
Seated in one of those invalid wheel-chairs, which can be so easily manipulated by the occupant, after becoming expert at the job, was a most benign-looking and motherly old lady, with snow-white hair, and a face that was one of the sweetest and most patient Hugh had ever gazed upon.
He knew instantly that he was going to like Mrs. Winslow just as much as he did her big husband. All the good things he had heard about her benevolence must then be true, he concluded, as he looked on her smiling face.
"Mother, here's my friend, Hugh Morgan, come out to take supper with us, as I told you he'd half-promised to do," said the deacon, in his breezy fashion. "And see, he has fetched a little chap along with him who'll warm your heart as nothing else could do. This is Joey Walters, who, with his mother, is stopping at the Morgan home. Hugh didn't say whether they were any relatives of his or not; but this is a mighty winsome morsel, Mother, for you to hug."
He thereupon lifted the child up in his strong hands and placed him in the lap of the old lady. Hugh noticed that she started, and stared hard at the chubby face of little Joey, just as the deacon had done; and then she turned her wondering eyes toward her husband. There was a look akin to awe in their depths, something that told how the sight of the child took her instantly back years and years to those never-to-be-forgotten days when just such a lovely little cherub had come to bless their home.
Then the old lady gave a long sigh.
"Oh, Joel!" she said, in a trembling voice, "how the sight of him startled me. I can shut my eyes, and think time has taken me back to our first year of wedded life. Yes, I am overjoyed at making the acquaintance of such a robust little fellow. And, Hugh, forgive me for not speaking to you before. I have heard much about you, and am pleased to know you. But, above all things, let me thank you for bringing this child out here to open the hearts of two lonely old people who live only in the past as their sun goes down toward the darkness of the night."
"I'll run along now, and take my regular bath after my work," said Deacon Winslow, trying to speak cheerily, though Hugh knew very well he had been more or less affected by what his wife had just said.
Left alone with the old lady, while the servant bustled in and out, laying the cloth, and setting the table, Hugh commenced an interesting conversation. She asked him a multitude of questions covering all sorts of subjects, even to that of athletic sports.
"You see, the Deacon is fond of boys to an extent that it has become his one hobby," she explained, in order to let Hugh know why she felt an interest in such matters. "He spends all his spare time doing things to make growing lads happier, and more contented in their homes. People will never know one-tenth of what he's done to save boys who were going the pace. His latest protege in that line you happen to know, a hulking fellow named Nick Lang, who, I understand, has been the terror of Scranton for years. I've met him, and must say I have my doubts whether he can ever be tamed, and molded into a respectable member of society; but Joel seems to believe no boy is so bad but what he has a soft streak in himsomewhere, if only you can find it."
"Well, since he hasn't told you about the inspiration that came to me," Hugh felt constrained to say, though averse to speaking of his own successes, "I want to say that right now Nick Lang is on the road to making good."
"Please tell me all about it then, Hugh?" she urged him.
Accordingly, Hugh started to relate the story from the very beginning; and he had a deeply interested auditor; for Mrs. Winslow sat there in her wheel-chair, with little Joey cuddled in her arms, and one of his soft, chubby hands patting her face.
"Hugh, I do believe you will succeed in your undertaking, and that Nick Lang is already firmly planted on the right path!" exclaimed the old lady, with considerable warmth, when the story had been brought up to date, bringing in an account of Hugh's most recent talk with the former terror of the town.
"It looks encouraging, anyhow," he merely replied; though, of course; he felt a flush of boyish pride at the warm look she gave him when saying what she did.
"My husband has worked with many an erring lad," she continued reminiscently; "sometimes with fair success, but only too often without, apparently, winning him away from his bad companions. But your idea was most unique. To think it all came of your reading Hugo's masterpiece, and taking it to heart. But here comes Joel; and we can soon be seated at the supper table."
The more Hugh saw of this remarkably genial old couple the closer did he seem to be drawn to Deacon Winslow and his crippled wife. Indeed, Hugh soon came to the conclusion that they were the warmest-hearted pair he had ever known in all his life.
Mrs. Winslow was wheeled cheerily to her appointed place at the table by her husband, who waited on her just as assiduously as though they were lately married; instead of having "trudged along life's highway in double harness," as the deacon, humorously put it, for a matter of sixty years or so.
Of course, as Deacon Winslow was a deeply religious man, Hugh expected he would ask a blessing before partaking of the bountiful spread that was placed on the table; nor was he disappointed. The deacon's deep-toned voice was wonderfully musical, and to Hugh it sounded almost as though he were singing whenever he spoke. He never grew tired of hearing the old blacksmith talk; though they would not allow him to be a mere visitor, but, by asking many questions, kept Hugh in the conversation.
The little fellow had been placed in a high chair. It looked of very ancient vintage, Hugh thought, when first sighting it. Seeing the look on his face the good lady of the house said in a voice that she tried to keep from vibrating:
"It was our Joel's chair; somehow we have managed to keep it intact through all the years. There was a time when I dreamed of some day seeing this boy seated at my table in his father's high chair. But your small friend, Hugh, fills a long vacant spot. I could almost fancy he belonged there, he seems so like——"
Deacon Winslow must have seen that his wife was getting on forbidden ground, for just at that moment he broke in with a question that demanded an answer from Hugh; and so the subject was dropped. But Hugh understood, and he felt his boyish heart throb with genuine sympathy for this splendid couple, who had yearned to have a house full of children, but somehow found their dearest wish set aside by a mysterious decree of Providence.
They had a merry time at the table. Little Joey was as bright as Hugh had ever known him to be, and fairly captivated the aged pair with his prattle. The old lady in particular hung upon his every word, as though in an ecstacy of delight. She anticipated his childish wants, and, really, little Joey could never have sat down to such a bountiful feast as on that memorable occasion.
Then the meal being ended they repaired again to the cheery fire. The deacon put on fresh wood, and the crackle of the blaze was very delightful on that cold night. Hugh had already spoken of the long walk ahead of him, and how, perhaps, he had better postpone his visit for another occasion, so as to get the child back home before it grew too late.
"Don't think of it, son," said Deacon Winslow instantly, and in a tone that would not be denied. "When the time comes I'll hitch my horse to the big sleigh; we'll wrap the child up as snug as a bug in a rug; and be over to your house in a jiffy. What if he does get a bit drowsy; let him take a nap. I'm sure he'll be safe in the loving arms of grandma."
At his mention of that last word the old lady hugged the child, and bent her wrinkled kindly face close to his cheeks; but Hugh believed it was to hide the rush of sacred emotions that swept over her.
Then they talked.
By degrees Hugh got his host started on the subject that was nearest his heart, and which had to do with the wonderful habits of all the small, wild animals of which the deacon had made a life-long study.
"It's a wonderfully fascinating subject, Hugh," the old blacksmith philanthropist went on to say, as he started in. "I took it up just as a fancy, but as the years went by it became a habit that grew on me more and more. Yes, I have had an amazing lot of pleasure out of my observations. As the good wife here will tell you, I've spent hours on hours at night, hidden in the woods, with a light fixed on some nest of a muskrat or gopher or fox, just to learn what the cunning little varmint did betimes; when of rights I should have been in my bed getting rested for another hard day's labor at my forge."
"His holidays have always been taken up in the same way," interrupted Mrs. Winslow, smiling lovingly at her husband, whose heart she evidently could read as though it were a printed book. "At first I begrudged him the time, but later on I knew it was taking his thoughts away from subjects that we were trying to keep out of our minds, and I never tried to hold him back."
"It was my study of the habits of these small animals and birds that gave me what little faculty I may possess for prophesying the weather ahead," continued the old man. "They seldom, if ever, go wrong. If I've hit it wrong now and then, the fault was mine, not theirs. I had failed to properly interpret their actions, that was all."
So he went on to tell Hugh many deeply interesting experiments he had undertaken along those lines. He also had a fund of wonderful anecdotes, many of them quite humorous, connected with his little friends of fur and feather.
The more Hugh heard him tell the greater grew his interest. He resolved that at some time in the not distant future, when an opportunity came along, he, too, would begin to pay more attention to the multitude of interesting things that could be discovered in almost any woods, if only the observer kept his eyes about him, and did nothing to alarm the timid inmates of various burrows and hollow trees.
So an hour passed, all too quickly.
Once Hugh took out his little nickel watch, as if under the impression that it must be getting near time for him to think of saying good-night; though he hated to leave such a jolly fireside, and the fine couple.
"Please don't think of going home yet, Hugh," said the old man, looking distressed at once. "The night is young, and I don't know when I've enjoyed anyone's company as I have yours. My dreams in the long ago were for just such a son as you. I envy your parents, my lad. Providence, however, saw fit to turn my activities in another direction; and I have done the best I could to be of some little help to other people's sons. I only bitterly regret that I am able to do so little."
"But I'm afraid the child may become too much bother for your good wife, sir," Hugh was saying, although already deciding he would remain longer.
The deacon laughed softly. He put out his big hand, and gently touched Hugh on the sleeve.
"Look yonder, lad!" he went on to say; "does that strike you as if a heavenly little sunbeam like the boy could ever be too much trouble for her? See how her dear face is lighted up as she bends over him. He's gone fast asleep in her arms, as contented as though with his own mother. Ah! lad, it was a kindly act, your fetching that tiny bit of humanity out to visit us. You have made her almost happy again for once."
Hugh, looking, saw that the old lady was paying no further attention to them, or listening to what they were saying. She touched the sweet face of the child, and pressed her withered lips against his soft skin. If a tear fell on the little fellow's head, was it to be wondered at? He saw her open his clothes at the neck, as though the heat of that blazing fire might be a little too much, in her matronly estimation.
The deacon, too, was looking as though his heart might be in his eyes. Such a spectacle as that must have been of rare occurrence at his fireside, deeply as he regretted it.
Then he started talking again, for he had been in the midst of an unusually interesting description at the time he drew the boy's attention to the beautiful picture at the opposite side of the fireplace. And Hugh, becoming wrapped up in the amusing episode for the moment forgot all about little Joey and the loving soul who had him held in her arms.
What the blacksmith was telling related to a thrilling happening he had experienced on one occasion, when lying out in the woods watching for a certain timid little rodent to commence moving around. At the time the deacon had one of those new-fangled hand electric torches with him, which he meant to use when the proper moment arrived.
Hearing voices drawing near he thought it best to warn the darkies who were advancing in time, for, otherwise, they threatened to walk directly over him in the pitch darkness. When, however, he flashed his light suddenly toward them, he must have given them the fright of their lives, for they uttered howls, and fled precipitately, despite his reassuring calls.
"I afterwards learned," said the deacon, smiling broadly at the amusing recollection, "that the three men were those colored players who constitute the band you young people always have at your barn dances, Daddy Whitehead, the leader, and his able assistants, Mose Coffin and Abe Skinner. They really believed they had met something supernatural in the woods, when taking a shortcut home, after attending a dance somewhere out in the country. And, really, I never had the heart to undeceive the poor ignorant chaps. But I warrant you they kept to the highway after that terrible experience with ghosts."
Hugh laughed at the mental picture of those three aged musicians, one with his fiddle, another carrying a 'cello, and the third an oboe, "streaking" it through the dark woods madly, possessed of a deadly fear lest their time had come, and that they were pursued by something from the spirit world.
He was just about to make some remark when the words froze on his lips. Mrs. Winslow had given vent to a cry. It thrilled Hugh strangely, as though he feared some agonizing pain had suddenly gripped the old lady.
Both he and the deacon were instantly on their feet. As they glued their eyes on the figure across on the other side of the broad hearth they saw that she was sitting there with a marvelous look on her wrinkled face—a look that seemed to tell of sheer amazement, exceeding great joy, incredulity, and many other like emotions that Hugh could not stop to analyze.
"Joel, come to me quickly!" they heard her gasp, as though she were almost suffocating; and both of them hastened to her side.
"What has happened, wife?" cried the alarmed deacon.
"Oh! tell me, am I awake, or dreaming, husband?" she went on to say thickly. "See what the child is wearing about his dear chubby neck! Surely we ought to know that tiny gold locket. It carries me far back through the long, weary, waiting years to the day I clasped it about his neck—my baby Joel!"
The deacon snatched the object from her quivering hand. He stared hard at it, as though he, too, might suspect he were asleep, and that it was all but a vision of a disordered mind.
Hugh was trembling, he hardly knew why. Something seemed to rush over him, something that thrilled him to the core. He had felt a touch of the same sensation when the good old lady let him look at the pictures in her family album, and pointed to one of her baby boy; although at the time he could not fully grasp the idea that appealed so dimly to his investigating mind.
Then Deacon Winslow found his voice, though it was thick and husky when he went on to say hastily:
"Yes, it does look mighty like the one you had for the boy; and we never found it again, you remember, after he—left home; so we thought he had taken it along with everything else he owned. But wait, wife, don't jump at conclusions. It is next to impossible that this should be the tiny chain with the plain gold pendant that you bought for our little Joel. Surely there must have been many others like it made."
Apparently, he was sorely afraid lest the bitter disappointment would follow. The blasting of those new, wild hopes of hers might have a bad effect on the old lady. That was why the deacon tried to keep her from being too sanguine, even though he himself was possibly hugging suddenly awakened rapturous dreams to his heart.
"There may have been others, Joel!" she cried exultantly; "but look on the back of the medallion. I feared it might be lost some day, Joel, so I scratched his initials there. My glasses are too moist for me to see well; look and tell me if you can make out anything, husband!"
Even Hugh held his breath while the deacon turned the tiny medallion over in his hands. Then he snatched up a reading glass of considerable power from the table, and held it close to the object in his quivering clutch.
They heard him give a cry, and it did not hint at disappointment.
"Oh! Joel, are the three letters there?" she begged piteously, as she hugged the still calmly sleeping child closer and closer to her heart.
"Something I can see, wife, although it is very faint," he told her. "But then think of the many years that have elapsed. The scratches must have been very lightly done at best. Hugh, your eyes are younger than mine; and, besides, I'm afraid there are tears dimming my sight. Look, and tell us what you see!"
It was a picture, with those two old people so eagerly hanging on the decision of the clear-eyed youth. Hugh used the glass, for he wanted to make certain. It would be doubly cruel if by any mistake on his part those anxious hearts were deceived.
"I can plainly make out the first initial, which is J beyond question," he almost immediately said.
At hearing that the deacon cast a swift look toward his wife, which she returned in kind. Neither of them could find utterance for a single word, however, such was the mental strain under which they labored.
"The last letter looks like a W," continued Hugh. "Yes, now that I've rubbed it with my finger I am positive of that. As for the middle one, I think it must be either an O or a C, though it's rather hard to say."
Deacon Winslow gave a deep sigh.
"And our boy's middle name was Carstairs, named after his mother's family!" he hastened to say.
Then they exchanged more wondering looks. It was very like a miracle, the bringing of the little child into the home of that couple whose fireside had so long awaited the coming of such a sunbeam.
Deacon Winslow turned almost fiercely on Hugh, and gripped his sleeve.
"You must tell us more about the boy," he said. "Who is he, and where did he come from? Those are vital things for us to learn. We could never know peace again if this mystery were not made clear. So tell us, Hugh, tell us as quickly as you can, so that we may learn the best, or the worst."
He saw that they were strangely shaken, and Hugh wisely believed it best to reassure them in the very beginning.
"First of all, sir," he started to say, "I begin to believe it may be what you would wish most of all. This boy who so much resembles your own child of the past is likely to turn out his son or perhaps grandson, for his mother's name is Walters, we've learned. You ask me where I found him, and I meant to tell you later on, never dreaming that it would interest you more than casually. I picked him and his mother up Thursday evening just at dusk, when I was coming home from a farm in a sleigh, where I had been to get a sack of potatoes. The young woman was trying to ask me something when she swooned away."
"Go on, lad, go on!" pleaded the deacon hoarsely, as Hugh paused for breath.
"Of course, the only thing I could do was to get them into the sleigh and whip up the horse," Hugh continued. "Once I reached home my mother would not hear of the poor thing being taken to the hospital. She had her put to bed and the doctor called in. Since that time she has been threatened with fever; in fact, is partly out of her head, though Doctor Cadmus says he believes she will be sensible by to-morrow morning. She was simply half-starved, and dreadfully worried about something."
"But could you not hear a few random words she uttered that would give you some idea as to her identity, and where she came from?" asked the deacon.
"Besides her name, which seemed to be Walters, she has said nothing that gives us a clue, save that we imagine they must have lived somewhere in the West."
"In the West—and our Joel started for that section of the country!" gasped the old lady, still patting the curly head on her lap lovingly.
"And then the lad's name is very similar," broke in the deacon. "Are you sure, Hugh, if isn't Joel? Might not the child have simply given the baby pronunciation of Joey?"
"I think that would be very likely, sir," admitted the boy readily.
Again the agitated couple exchanged looks. Hugh would certainly never forget the joyous expression that sat upon both faces. It was as though Heaven had opened to them, and given them back the child of their younger years.
The deacon dropped down on his knees. One arm went around his aged wife and the little fellow she cuddled in her lap. In sonorous tones he lifted up his voice and gave thanks from the depths of his heart for the great mercy shown to them that night.
Hugh was deeply affected. He believed some invisible hand must have guided him when he took that sudden notion to have the child go walking with him, his mother having suggested that it might do the little chap good to get an airing after being shut up in the house all day long.
His mind raced back, and once more he marshalled all the facts, as far as he knew them, before him. Yes, there did not seem to be any reason to believe such a thing as a sad mistake could be made. That boy certainly had the Winslow blood in him; why, he greatly resembled the Joel of more than fifty years back, as shown in that old-time daguerreotype.
Then Deacon Winslow once more rose to his feet. His face was fairly radiant, as was that of his wife.
"I believe I can understand how this comes about," he was saying, just as if he might have had a revelation as he prayed there. "It is no accident, but the hand of a special Providence. Our petitions have been heard, and this is the answer; so the last few years of our lives may be made happy by the sight of our own flesh and blood. My poor service has come up as a memorial before Heaven. And let us hope that tomorrow, when that poor girl comes into her senses again, she will be able to tell us all of the wonderful story."
"There is one thing I should have mentioned, sir, which slipped my mind," Hugh went on to say just then. "Always in her delirium she seems to be pleading with someone not to deny her a place under his family roof with her little Joey. And it is to an imaginarygrandfathershe is appealing, so pathetically that I have seen my mother crying time and again, for very sympathy."
"A grandfather, and cruel at that!" said the old man, shaking his head, while the tears rolled unheeded down his furrowed cheeks. "At least, that does not apply to me. She will learn presently that we stand ready to take her into our hearts and home as our own. Oh! it seems too good to be true, this blessing that has come to us to-night. And, Hugh Morgan, you must always be associated in our minds with this realization of our utmost hopes, which of late years we have not even dared whisper to each other."
He wrung the boy's hand until Hugh almost writhed under the pressure; while the happy "grandma" continued to devour the plump, rosy-cheeked face of her charge with her eyes, as though she could not tear her gaze away.
Long they continued to sit there and talk, always upon that one subject, because everything else must be subordinated to the wonderful revelation that had come to them, to prove that truth is often stranger than fiction.
Three times did Hugh suggest that he had better be heading towards home: but they pleaded with him to stay "just a little longer"; for their starved hearts found it hard to let the newly found treasure out of sight, even for a short time.
"But I must really be going," Hugh finally told them. "It is now after ten, and mother will be worrying about the child, not knowing, of course, that he has found a new protector, two of them, in fact. You can both come over after breakfast in the morning, and visit the boy. If his mother has regained her senses, and the doctor permits it, you will be able to settle the matter once and for all by seeing her."
So with that they had to rest content. The child was bundled up warmly, and tenderly placed in the sleigh by his huge grandfather, after the old lady had kissed his forehead and cheeks a dozen times.
Then they were off, and shortly afterwards arrived at the Morgan home. Deacon Winslow insisted on carrying the tiny chap indoors; after which he hastened back, to sit up most of the night with his wife, talking of the wonderful thing that had come to bless them in their old age.
And Hugh, on his part, had a deeply interested auditor in his mother, as he spun the yarn that equaled anything he had ever read in the Arabian Nights.
Hugh had finished breakfast on Sunday morning, and was out looking after a few pets he had in the way of Belgian hares and homing pigeons, when he heard his mother calling him.
"Coming, Mother!" he answered hack, thinking on the spur of the moment he was needed to look after the furnace or steam boiler, from which the hired girl did not always succeed in getting the best results on particularly frosty mornings.
She waited for him just inside the door. Hugh saw immediately that his first surmise was wrong, for there was a look on her face to tell him it was no trivial matter she had to communicate.
"What is it, Mother?" he asked quickly.
"She is asking for you, Hugh," he was told.
Then he suddenly remembered about the young mother who had lain there since Thursday evening, and out of her mind with fever.
"Oh! then the good old Doc was right!" Hugh exclaimed; "he said, you know, that he felt sure she'd be in her right senses by Sunday morning. You've been talking with her, have you, Mother?"
"Yes, and relieving her immediate curiosity and alarm," he was told. "Naturally, she was full of wonder when she awoke to find herself in a strange room, with no little Joey near by. She thought it was the hospital, and that the cold had claimed him for a victim. But I soon calmed her fears, and she knows now all about how she came here; and also that her boy is still sleeping happily close by; for he is taking a long nap this morning, after his dissipation of last night."
"But, you didn't say anything about the deacon and his dear old wife, did you?" continued Hugh.
"Not a word, my son. I wished you to be the one to convey the glad news to that poor young mother. She wanted to ask me further questions, but I avoided committing myself. She did come from the Far West, it appears. Her money ran out just too soon and they had to leave the train at a station this side of Waldron Falls. She was go determined to reach Scranton before night that she actually started out afoot, it seems, despite the cold and the snow-covered roads. Several kind-hearted men gave them lifts on the way; but it was a long journey, and she became exhausted before reaching her destination. But come with me, Hugh; she wishes to thank you face to face."
Hugh did not like that part of it. As a rule, he ran away from such scenes; but in this case he knew that would never do, since he wished to learn further concerning Joey and his mother; and, besides, had some pleasant information to tell her that must cheer her heart amazingly, and also hasten her recovery.
So he followed his mother into the spare room where the young woman lay. She had been propped up with extra pillows by Mrs. Morgan while they talked, though kept well covered up. Indeed, the loving hands of the older lady had succeeded in placing a warm, knitted sack upon her arms and shoulders, Hugh saw.
She looked eagerly at the boy. Her face was not so feverish as before; indeed, he could see without being a physician that the patient was much better.
"And this is Hugh?" she said, in a voice that trembled. "Yes, I seem to remember your face, and how you listened to me trying to tell you how much I wanted to get to Scranton before I fell sick, for I could feel it coming on. And your mother tells me you carried us both home in your sleigh. It was a generous heart that could take an utter stranger in, as you have done, and care for her as if she were your own flesh and blood. Please let me thank you, Hugh, from the bottom of my heart."
Hugh took the hand she extended; but he was careful not to give it one of his customary vigorous squeezes; she looked so wan and frail that he knew he must hold himself in check.
"Oh! it was a mighty little thing for anyone to do, Mrs. Walters," he said, in some confusion, but speaking the name with a purpose in view.
"How did you know that was my name, Hugh?" she asked immediately.
"You mentioned it, my dear, in your delirium," explained Mrs. Morgan; "and then, besides, Joey told us that much."
"And did I tell you anything more in my ravings?" she asked, looking worried.
"Only something about a certain grandfather whom you seemed to think might not receive you as you ardently hoped when you started forth on this long journey," the older lady told her. "But then you did not know what was in store for you. Sometimes great blessings, as well as dire calamities, spring upon us without the least warning. Hugh, I shall leave the telling to you from this point on."
The young mother looked from one face to the other.
"Oh! what is it?" she almost gasped. "You are keeping something from me I ought to know. Please tell me, Hugh, I beg of you. If it is good news I shall be so very grateful, for little Joey's sake mostly. Everything I do, everything I think of, is in connection with my darling child."
"Then I hope you will forgive me if I'm rushing things too fast!" exclaimed the eager boy, unable to restrain his news longer; "but little Joey spent two hours last evening asleep in the loving arms of his great grandmother; while Deacon Winslow again and again embraced both, and gave thanks for the great blessing that had come to his fireside!"
How her eyes sparkled when she heard what he said. If Doctor Cadmus had been in the room just then he might have cautioned them against too much excitement, lest the fever return; but surely such glorious news could not do harm, with her heart singing songs of thanksgiving.
"Oh! tell me all about this wonderful thing!" she cried; "how could you guess my secret, if I did not betray it in my delirium? Now that you have said this much I must know all about it. Please go on, Hugh!"
He needed no such urging when the words were ready to fall in a stream from his lips. So Hugh commenced, and rapidly sketched the strange happenings of the preceding evening—how he had taken the little fellow with him for a walk, and stopped at the smithy to see the sparks flying upwards in showers; of the invitation to take supper, and spend an hour in chatting with the deacon and his good wife. Then, quick on the heels of this he told how Mrs. Winslow, while holding Joey in her arms so lovingly as he slept in his innocence, had suddenly made that amazing discovery in connection with the baby chain, and smooth medallion, shaped like a locket.
She lay there with her eyes closed, eagerly drinking in every word the boy uttered. The unrestrained tears crept unheeded down her cheeks; but Mrs. Morgan did not worry, because only too well did she know these were tears of overpowering joy; and not of grief.
Finally the story was all told, and she opened her eyes, swimming as they were, to look fondly at each of them in turn.
"What happiness has come into my life!" she said, with a great sigh; and, evidently, the load of years had rolled from her heart. "And how grateful I must always be to the kind friends who have brought it to me and mine. I can never do enough to show you how I appreciate it all."
Then Hugh thought himself privileged to ask a few questions in turn, wishing to thoroughly satisfy himself with regard to several points that were as yet unexplained.
She told them how her husband had lost his life; and that, when she and the boy faced poverty, the resolution had come to her to go East and try to find the relatives whom she had only lately learned were located somewhere near Scranton. She had come across an old and time-stained diary kept by her mother's father, who, of course, was the runaway son of Deacon Winslow; and thus she learned how he had left his home in the heat of anger, and never once communicated with his parents up to the time of his death, which occurred a short three years after his marriage.
It was all very simple, and supplied the missing links in the chain.
After she had told them these things once more she asked Hugh about the aged couple. That was a subject the boy could talk about most enthusiastically for a whole hour, he was that full of it. And the happy look on her face told how like balm to her heart his words came.
"And they are coming to see you early this morning," he finally assured her. "I wouldn't be surprised if either of them has had a single wink of sleep last night for counting the minutes creep by, they are that anxious to claim you and Joey."
Just then the doorbell rang. Hugh laughed, as though he had been expecting such a happening; in fact, he had heard the sound of sleigh runners without creaking on the hard-frozen snow, and suspected what it signified.
"There they are this minute!" he exclaimed; "shall I run down and let them in, Mother? And ought they come right upstairs?"
"Have them take off their wraps first, and warm their hands at the radiator," she wisely told him, thinking of the invalid who would soon be in their embrace.
It was a very brief time before he ushered them into the room. First the old lady was assisted across the floor, for she could hardly walk, even when so determined to come over, and greet her granddaughter. And when her arms were twined around the weak little figure on the bed, and she pressed her to her matronly bosom, Joey's mother broke down in hysterical sobs, and, in turn, twined her arms about the neck of her newly found relative.
The old deacon looked radiant. He kissed her on the forehead, and tried to say something appropriate, but was compelled to turn his head aside and blow his nose vigorously, for his emotions overpowered him.
Presently, however, they were able to talk rationally, and then it was all settled how Joey and his mother were to live with the old couple, and be their very own always. Everything was explained, and Hugh finally found himself able to "break away," being consumed by a desire to run across lots to Thad's house, and tell him the wonderful story.
There is no need of accompanying Hugh on his errand, and seeing how Thad took the amazing news. Of course, he was simply thunder-struck, and delighted also beyond measure. He must have made Hugh tell the full particulars as many as several times, for they were all of an hour together. But then, Thad's folks had been called in, and told how after all these years a descendant of Deacon Winslow had come back to the old roof-tree, to make the happiness of the aged couple complete.
Of course, the story was soon known all over Scranton, and everybody rejoiced with the beloved old blacksmith who had so long been the best friend of the boys of the neighborhood. But Hugh, who was really the hero of the occasion, was congratulated by everybody for being the means of re-uniting these lonely souls, and incidentally providing Little Joey with a good home.