IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) .**5^ 1.0 I I 1.25 : Its IM U 11.6 HiotograiJiic _Scimces CarpoHtiQn <^ V 23 WBT MAM STMIT WIMTn,N.Y. 14SM (71*) ■72-4903 ^**% # V V CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/iCMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Inttituta for Historical IVIicroraproductiont / Inatitut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas T«chnie«l and Dibliographio NotM/NotM t«chniquM at bibliographiquM Th«e( totha Tha Inatituta haa attamptad to obtain tha baat orioinal copy avallabia for filmino. 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I orilhii Tha la ahaH( TINUI Mapa. diffan antiral bagini right I raquir mathc Thia itam la filmad at tha reduction ratio chackad balow/ Ca document eat filmA au taux da rAductktn indlquA ci-deaaoua. 10X 14X WX 22X 26X 30X y 3 12X lex aox ux 32X air* ditailB iu«« du modifier ig«r un« • filmag* Th« eopy flimMl h«r« has baan raproduead thanlis to tha ganarooity of: Library Irani uravwMiy, rm r DOfouQn Tha imagaa appaaring hara ara tha bast quality poaaibia oonsidariiig tha condition and lagibiiity of tha original copy and in icaaping with tha filming contract spaciflcatlona. Original copiaa in printad papar covers ara fllmad beginning with tha front covar and ending on the last page with a printad oi illuatratad imprea- sion. or the back cover when appropriate. All other originel copiea are filmed beginning on the first page with a printad or illustreted impree- slon. and ending on the laat page with a printad or UhMtrated impreesion. uAes L'exemplaira film4 fut reproduit grice A la gAnAroait* da: Ubrary Tram Univardty, PMtrboroufh Lea images suhrantas ont 4t* raprodultes svsc la plus grand soin. compta tanu de la condition at da le nettet* de raxamplaira fiim4. at an conformit I," he said, i abruptly, day when :o, but not to places two feet. • I go out rid to live ids to his sentiment can do so I take you irnestness. an, awful o help it ? : each one the world ' go where any more nything." shaking staircase he world ithing to rouse that woman from her unhappy condition. She is getting worse and worse." Dr. Jeffrey's next visit was to a small and miserable house on the outskirts of the town. He drew up his sleigh in front of a broken gate, lifted out a weight which he attached to his horse's head, then strode up a narrow path lead- ing to the door. It was a chilly, disagreeable day and the chil- dren of the house were playing indoors. They were all ragged and dirty, and they hung over a still more ragged and dirty baby whose fingers were red and chilled and half buried in a frozen squash that he was pulling to pieces and throw- ing about him. The air was full of laughing exclamations, for the children were a happy, jolly set in spite of their rags and squalor. An untidy-looking mother stepped in a leisurely fashion about the room, lifting pots and pans and occasionally stirring the fire in a rusty stove. "Well," said the doctor, standing on the threshold, "why have you sent for me, Mrs. Jackson ? You all seem pretty well this morn- ing." The woman turned her sooty face toward him. " It's Sammy, doctor ; he has brown kittis in his throat," and she pulled aside a woolen shawl from a child who lay on a low bed in the comer. The doctor stepped up to him. " What have you been doing to him? This does not look like bronchitis." zo FOR THE OTHER BOY*S SAKE " Yes, sir ; *tis brown kittis," said the woman convincingly. " I tried to make cough medicine from a receipt in the paper and sent to the drug- store for potash, and the druggist he sent me something that I put in, but Sammy was that sick I thought he was pisened and the druggist came running up and snatched the bottle and threw all the stuff out on the snow and gave Sammy some flaxseed tea." " Where did he throw it ? " asked Dr. Jeffrey. Mrs. Jackson pointed to a snowbank near the door and the doctor stepped out to examine it. When he came back he had some red crystals on a bit of paper. " Is it pisen ? " asked the woman eagerly. " We won't say what it is, as the grains did not all dissolve," said the doctor ; " now let me see my patient again." While the gentleman sat with the child's dirty wrist in his hand, his eyes wandered around the roughly plastered room where hung various torn garments, a clock that was six hours too fast, and a number of tools and household utensils. "Are you happy, Mrs. Jackson?" he said, turning suddenly to her. The woman laughed good-naturedly. "Yes, sir; 'specially if my man doesn't get out of work." " Strange," said the doctor to himself ; then he said aloud, " Can't you keep your house a little more tidy ? " " Bless you, sir, I'll try when the children are riz. What could you make of this muddle with FOR THE OTHER 30Y*S SAKE II six of them underfoot and a frozen gutter and two banks of snow to cross to fetch every drop of water you use. Do you think that you could do any better ? " " I don't know that I could," and the doctor smiled at her ; " yet it is a terrible thing to be so dirty, and most unwholesome for these chil- dren." " If you rich people would build decent houses for us poor ones we'd live better," said Mrs. Jackson. " Think of renting a shanty like this," and she looked disdainfully around the wretch- edly built abode. " Who is your landlord ? " asked Dr. Jeffrey. " Miss Rivers, the rich old miser. She owns every house on this road, and I guess she'd fall down in a fit if she stepped into one of them." "I guess she would," muttered the doctor, then he turned his attention to the sick child. He was in the midst of giving directions to the mother as to the nursing and medicine, when there was an outcry from the children, who had moved in a body from the stove to the small window which they were daubing with their squash-streaked hands. " Mammy," exclaimed the eldest boy, " here's a coach afore the door and the doctor's horse is nipping at the coach horses." Mrs. Jackson ran to the door and opened it. " Mercy on us," the doctor heard her say, then she stood stock-still in the doorway. Presently she held out her hand, took hold of a small boy who was walking up the path za FOR THE OTHER BOY^S SAKE toward her, and silently ushered him into the room. The doctor looked curiously at him. Such a strange little figure stood before him. He could not guess Ihe lad's age, for he was deformed. There was a lump on his back, and his pale, thoughtful face was set deeply between his shoulders. His expression was composed, criti- cal, and curiously unchildish as he looked about the comfortless abode. " Now, who are you ? " asked the woman in quiet desperation. " I'm Jeremiah Gay, your nephew," said the boy, rolling his grave black eyes up at her. "And your mother's dead and you've been sent to live with me, haven't you?" pursued Mrs. Jackson in a still more desperate tone of voice. " Yes," said the boy, " if I don't crowd you," and he surveyed the somewhat limited space about him with a smile. " This is a boy that has some sense of humor," murmured the doctor. " Now, doctor, just look here," said Mrs. Jack- son in a tearful voice ; " look at that boy's good clothes and the little bag of him," pointing to the portmanteau on the floor, "and look at the children of me," pointing to the ragged, gaping group at the window, " and ask yourself if it's fair. Where am I to put him ? What'll I feed him on ? I suppose you're used to silver spoons and all that sort of thing, aren't you, sonny ? " " Oh, yes, Aunt Martha, there are six in my FOR THE OTHER BOY'S SAKE 13 » » bag and a silver mug — I always drink out of it." " Oho, oho, he's the very double of my sister that's dead and gone," said Mrs. Jackson, sud- denly throwing her apron over her head, and I'll never see her again," and dropping on a stool she rocked to and fro. " My mother is in heaven, living with God," said the little boy ; " don't cry, she wouldn't be happy if she were here." Mrs. Jackson snatched her apron from her head. " Oh, it's scorning me you are, is it ? I guess I'm as good as anybody." "Shall I tell you how my mother died?" asked the boy, fixing his solemn eyes on her. " Yes, yes," said Mrs. Jackson. " Tell me the whole of it ; I've not heard a word." " She lay on her bed and cried, ' Lord Jes"3, come and take me quickly,' " said the boy. " Her body was full of pain. I put ice on her forehead and she begged me not to cry. I think it would be wrong to wish her back. I cry to go to her sometimes, not for her to come to me." There was a hush for a few minutes in the tiny house. Even the children were awed by the boy's sweet voice and the sudden spiritual beauty that lit up his face. " Who was your mother, and from what place do you come? " asked the doctor. " My mother was a widow, and she lived in Riverfield," said the boy, mentioning a country place a hundred miles distant from the town they were near. " We had a little house by the \ 14 FOR THE OTHER BOY*S SAKE river. My father, who is dead, was a carpenter, and my mother took in sewing for a living." " And now you have come to live with your aunt," pursued Dr. Jeffrey. The child's lip quivered, then he said bravely, " I suppose so — ^the neighbors sent me here." He was plainly but neatly dressed. His cuffs and collar were beautifully white, and the little handkerchief peeping from his pocket was like a bit of snowdrift " He can't stay in this wretched place," thought the doctor, "and never having seen the people before he hasn't any attachment for them. I wonder if I can help him. Mrs. Jackson," he said, rising, "suppose I take this small boy away for a few days till you get things straight- ened out here or else move into a better house. I will see Miss Rivers' agent." " May God bless you, sir, for a gentleman and a man of heart, as well as a good doctor," said the woman enthusiastically. " Never mind thanking me," said the doctor, drawing the skirts of his coat away from the eager, grasping hands, " unless you wish to do so by keeping your house a little more tidy. Come along, little boy — ^what is your name — ^Jeremiah what?" " Jeremiah Gay," said the boy, looking at him with grateful eyes. "Rather a contradiction of terms; however, Jeremiah Gay give me your bag. Good-morn- ing, Mrs. Jackson," and the doctor with a last look at his patient left the house. FOR TH9 OTHBR BOY'S SAKE 15 him " Now that I have got you, my young white ele- phant," said the doctor looking at the boy seated beside him in the sleigh, " what am I to do with you ? " Jeremiah said nothing, but continued to gaze straight ahead of him with clasped hands and a radiant face. "Why do you look so pleased?" asked the doctor. "Is it wrong for me to be happy because I have left my aunt ? " asked the child. " No, under the circumstances I don't think it is," said the doctor. " We were always poor, my mother and I," said the boy, "but we were always clean." "You have been well brought up; your mother must have been a superior woman." " She was the best mother a little boy ever had," said Jeremiah. " Sometimes when I think of her it seems as if everything was gone." " Poor child," muttered the young man ; then he said aloud: "Well, what am I to do with you? I'm exceedingly busy this morning. I think I will drop you at my hotel and later in the day I will look up a place for you." " Very well, sir," said Jeremiah ; then he con- tinued to watch with interest the numbers of people passing along the streets. Presently the doctor heard him murmur, " Is it a picnic ? " " No," said his friend, " that is a horse car, a public conveyance to take people about the city. Have you never seen one before ? " " Never," said the boy turning his head to look i6 FOR TUK OTHER BOY'S SAKE after it. " I made sure it was a picnic wagon. It looks so merry to see the horses trotting along and to hear the bells ringing." " Some day you shall go in one," said the doc- tor. " Here we are at the hotel. Can yon jump out alone ? " Jeremiah stepped carefully to the sidewalk and very quietly but with great curiosity followed his guide. There were no hotels in Riverfield ; he had never seen anything like this before and he gazed in intense admiration at the mirrors, the potted plants, the comfortable seats, the well- dressed people, and above all the smart bell boys about him. Without saying a word and with admirable control of himself he kept close to his friend end with only an occasional glance at the trim lad behind who was carrying his bag he entered the elevator which he imagined was a small and sta- tionary waiting room. The shock to his nervous system when it started was considerable. With a startled " Oh," of dismay, he grasped Dr. Jeffrey's hand. The young man looked kindly down at him. *' I beg your pardon, small boy, I should have warned you, but I forgot that you were probably unused to these things." " What makes it go ? " gasped Jeremiah in the midst of his fright. While the doctor was explaining the motive power to him they halted and stepped out of it to traverse more halls. FOR THB OTHBR BOY^S SAKB 17 Jeremiah's pale face flushed with sudden de- light when the door of a handsome suite of rooms was thrown open. He had never in his life seen anything so beautiful as this. The sun- light was pouring in through silk curtains and shining on fine pictures, soft carpets, and best of all, on a bank of real flowers blooming between the two windows. He went down on his knees before the flowers. " They sing a hymn in the Riverfield church," he said with enthusiasm, "about how fair the lily grows, and how sweet the bloom beneath the hill of Sharon's dewy rose " He stopped suddenly, for Dr. JefFrey was smil- ing and the bell boy was making a face at him. The picture of the old country church with the sounding board over the pulpit and the high- backed seats faded away. He felt that he had gotten into a new world. These people did not understand him. "I must leave you now," said the doctor. " You can amuse yourself with the books and the pictures till I come back ; but first, will you have something to eat ? " " I am not very hungry," said Jeremiah quietly. "What did you have for breakfast?" asked Dr. Jeffrey. " I had none, sir ; my lunch gave out and I thought I would save my money." "That won't do — you must have something at once ; what would you like ? " "Well," said Jeremiah slowly, "I am very fond of bread and molasses." B \8 FOR THE OTHBK BOY'S SAKE " Anything else ? " asked Dr. Jeffrey. " And pitcher tea to drink." *' I don't know that kind of tea," said the doc- tor gravely, " do you ? " and he turned to the bell boy. " No, sir, I don't," was the reply. " Pitcher tea," said Jeremiah, " is a jug full of milk and hot water with a little molasses in it, or sugar if you have any." " Very good," said Dr. Jeffrey, " see that he has some. Now is there anything further? What you have mentioned is not very substan- tial." ** Perhaps a little cold meat, if you have some to spare," said Jeremiah addressing the bell boy, " not much, I am not a hearty eater." " Bring him a good lunch," said the doctor to the boy, " and have it here in five minutes. I want to see him started before I go out." The boy hurried away and the doctor turned his attention to his small guest. " I believe I'll have lunch with you," he said when a tray of good things arrived. "It is a trifle early, but it will save time," and he sat down at a small table with Jeremiah. Half an hour he remained, alternately eating and questioning the quaint little lad opposite him. Jeremiah's solemn black eyes, his old-fash- ioned, droll, and often pathetic manner, and his pitiable deformity made him the oddest speci- men of boyhood, that he had ever seen. *' You are a queer lad," said the doctor finally. FOR THB OTHER BOY*S SAKE 19 throwing his napkin on the table and getting up ; (> you make me forget the lapse of time about as well as anybody I know. Good-bye for the present. You will see me later in the day." Then he went away and straightway forgot all about the little lad in his rush of work. Jeremiah left alone made a tour of the rooms. While crossing the doctor's dressing room he stopped short with a cry of pain. Did he look like that? He had never before obtained a full view of himself. There was the cruel folding glass before him revealing so plainly his stunted figure and the hump on his back. He threw himself on a sofa and buried his face in his hands. He was aroused by a long low whistle of sur- prise. The bell boy had come to take away the lunch dishes and looking for Jeremiah and find- ing him in such a position had naturally con- cluded that he was ill. Jeremiah sprang up and stared at him. " What's up with you, kid ? " asked the boy not unkindly. Jeremiah hesitated — ^then he thought of a big word that his school teacher used in speaking of her pupils when there was a falling short in any way of a desired standard, " I am thinking of my deficiencies," he said bravely. " Oh, are you, though," said the other boy, not quite sure of himself. Jeremiah did not wish to pursue the subject. He glanced about the dressing room then out ao FOR THE OTHBR BOY^S SAKB into the bedroom beyond, where there was a big double bed. "Who is the other party that shares these rooms ? " he asked with a businesslike air. ** What other party ? " asked the boy. " The man that lives with Dr. Jeffrey ? " " You^re the only man that I know of," was the reply; "what a game question. Did you think the doctor had some one in with him ? " . " Yes," said Jeremiah slowly. " Why some of the people in the hotel have more rooms than this," said the boy. " This is a little suite compared to them." Jeremiah said nothing ; he was beginning to learn many things. " Say, who is your tailor? " asked the boy con- fidentially. Jeremiah glanced at the neat black suit that his mother had made and that had been consid- ered ultra-fashionable in cut and fit in River- field, but which somehow or other did not com- pare favorably with the bell boy's snug livery. He was about to give to his new friend in a confiding manner the history not only of his garments but of all his personal affairs, when a distant bell rang. It made the bell boy jump and set to work at his delayed task of clearing away the dishes with a strange exclamation that Jeremiah had never heard before. " I am becoming the most forgetful person in the world — that boy has quite slipped my mind," exclaimed Dr. Jeffrey, at ten o'clock that night. \ !:■ FOR THB OTHBR BOY^S SAKB ai He was standing In the library of an older physician where they had withdrawn for a little private conversation. Dr. JefiFrey had suddenly started up and struck himself a smart slap on the chest " A patient ? ** asked his friend. ** No— « waif I picked up. Good-night, I must get home and see to him. I left him in my rooms. He may have wandered away,'* and he shook hands with his friend and hastened from the house. With quick steps he walked along the street, entered the hotel, and hurried upstairs to his rooms. Where was Jeremiah ? Ah ! there curled up in a little bed that the doctor had ordered to be put in his dressing room, his head a dark silky spot on the pillow. He lifted his head when he heard the doctor coming. " Ah, it is you, sir," he said quietly. **Yes, did you think that I had forgotten you?" " No, sir ; but I was listening for your step." There was something very pitiful about the little face upraised to him and Dr. JefiFrey with- out knowing why he did so felt his heart touched with a sudden and quicker sympathy. He seemed to feel himself a small deformed child alone in a big hotel, alone in the world, no one to cling to but a comparative stranger, and for that stranger's returning footsteps he lay listen- ing alone. '* You have been crying," he said. aa FOR THB OTHER BOY*S SAKE i " Yes, sir," said Jeremiah quietly, " and I was very sorry for I could not see to read my verses. Both my eyes felt as if they had gone swimming in the river. Perhaps if you are not in much of a hurry to go to bed you will read to me." With a queer smile Dr. Jeffrey took the little Bible that Jeremiah drew from under his pillow and turned it over and over in his hands. Eliza- beth Gay was written on the fly leaf. He had seen his own mother handling just such a Bible, and the worn black covers and the marked places took him suddenly back to his boyhood when he had stood by that mother's knee and listened to her calm voice that he would never hear again in this world. " It was a wedding present to my mother," said Jeremiah ; ** she said it was the best one she got, and the one she loved the most." " Where shall I read? " asked the young man abruptly. " Anywhere — ^it is all good." Dr. Jeffrey began the twenty-first chapter of Revelation, "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth." When he reached the fourth verse, " And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away," Jeremiah said, " Thank you, sir. I shall sleep happy with those words in my mind." "Good-night," said the doctor. "You are quite comfortable, are you ? ." " I am the most comfortable little boy in the FOR THB OTHBR BOY^S SAKB 23 world," said Jeremiah sedately. " This is a very good bed and I can go to sleep now that you have come home." Even as he spoke the white lids drooped over the big black eyes, and in a few moments the young man standing over him saw that he was far away in the land of dreams. " How would you like to live in an orphan asylum? " asked Dr. Jeffrey of Jeremiah the next morning over the breakfast table. Jeremiah laid down the piece of buttered muffin that he was just about to put in his mouth. " Is that a place where crowds of little boys and girls live that have lost their mothers and fathers ? " "Yes, that is it." " I wouldn't like it at all, thank you," said Jeremiah. " I would rather live with you." Dr. Jeffrey had had breakfast served in his own room, and they were quite alone. At this last remark of Jeremiah's, which was uttered with mingled boldness and longing, Dr. Jeffrey pushed back his chair from the table and laughed heartily. " You are an odd child ; what could I do with you ? " " I would b^^ur little boy," said Jeremiah, "and drive aboii| wkh you. I could hold the reins while you ' make calls, and I could run errands for ^^YoikJu^ a mind of your own« haven't you ? " * sweetness ffrey. " You d light.'" . are not all 34 FOR THB OTHER BOY^S SAKB "My mother used to say that I was rather obstinate,'* said Jeremiah ; " but of course I don't think I am." Dr. Jeffrey laughed again, then he said, " This hotel would not be a suitable place for you. You ought to have plenty of fresh air, and to attend a school every day so that you will be fitted to support yourself when you grow up." " I could go to school from here," said Jere- miah. " Well, we will not decide upon anything just now," said Dr. Jeffrey. " To live one day at a time is a very good plan. Finish your breakfast, then put on your overcoat and see how you like driving about with me." Jeremiah gravely drank his coffee and rose from the table. He was very quiet as they left the hotel and drove out from the crowded streets of the town to a broad avenue in the suburbs. "This is our destination," said Dr. Jeffrey, stopping before a fine stone house standing back from the street among snow-covered evergreens. "I have only to take some medicine to this patient and ask a few questions, then I shall come back to you." Jeremiah did not reply to him. His eyes were shut, his face pale, and just as the doctor turned to him he went toppling over into the arms held out to receive him. " Poor little chap," said the young man, taking him into the house. " This early morning drive is too much for him. He is even more delicate than he looks." He laid him down on a long monks' bench in FOR THB OTHBR BOY^S SAKB 25 the hall, and the servant who had opened the door hurried away for cold water. Miss Rivers* maid put her head over the stair railing, then came running downstairs. Her mistress wished to know what was the matter. "It is nothing serious," said Dr. Jeffrey. " Tell Miss Rivers I shall come up presently." In ten minutes he was standing beside the old lady's chair. " What do you mean by turning my house into a hospital ? " she asked with a curious smile. "It was quite unforeseen," said Dr. JeflFrey. "I haven't much acquaintance with that frail little lad. He had a long coach journey yester- day, and I should have kept him quiet this morn- ing." " Who is he ? " ^ked Miss Rivers. "A very curious child," said Dr. Jeffrey. And he rapidly sketched Jeremiah's history as far as he knew it. " What are you going to do with him," she said. "I don't know yet. I shall have to find a place for him somewhere. I daresay the best plan will be to send him back to his country home." " Why didn't they keep him ? " " Oh, I fancy they are all poor people with large families of their own. I could arrange to board him among them." " Don't leave him here," said Miss Rivers un- gracirusly. "I have no thought of such a thing," said i 26 FOR THE OTHBR BOY^S SAKE Dr. Jeffrey, looking at his watch ; " but it will not disturb you, will it, to have him below on the bench for an hour ? Then I will come or send some one to take him away." " Very well," said Miss Rivers, " but don't let it be longer." Dr. Jeffrey had a pair of very beautiful and ex- pressive eyes. These eyes were suddenly turned on the selfish woman ; not in anger, but in such profound pity for her heartlessness that her own cold gray eyes averted themselves from his gaze, and went staring out of the window. She did not look at him when he left the room. Quite silently she sat and listened to his footsteps down the staircase and through the hall. He stopped beside the boy and she could hear a few murmured words. Then he went out and the front door closed behind him. She sat a little longer, wondering what this boy was like. Some vulgar, red-faced little creature probably. Her maid could have described him to her but she had not thought to ask her. There was no one stirring in the halls, the ser- vants were all downstairs. She would wheel her chair outside the door and look for herself. She put out her hands and guided herself care- fully over the threshold of the door and up to the oaken staircase railing. Then stretching out her long gaunt neck she stared down at the little lad lying on the bench below. " O God, be merciful to me," she ejaculated, dropping her head on the hard wood. " Must I live that day over again ? " FOR THE OTHER BOY'S SAKE 27 She felt as if something sharp and cmel had pierced her heart — ^the callous heart that n6w so seldom felt a flutter of joy or tremor of fear. Dr. Jeffrey did not know, the servants did not know, no one in the town knew, the entire his- tory of a day in her life some thirty years before when her little nephew, her beloved adopted child, had been drowned. She could see him now lying on his side on the beach, his face white and still, his black hair drenched, the wet garments clinging to his misshapen back, for he too was deformed. She groaned as she thought of that sad time when the light of her life had gone out and of the terrible suffering it had caused her. No one had pitied her — ^she would not allow it. Every one had thought her proud and unloving toward the child for whom she would gladly have laid down her life. After a time she raised her head. She would not have her servants find her here, and she must look again into the hall, for she was interested in this child for the other child's sake. He was still lying on his side and his hand- kerchief was still pressed to his eyes. She knew by his figure that his face must be pale and deli- cate. He was probably weeping because he had fainted. Poor friendless one. Just what the other boy would have done in his place. Miss Rivers bit her lips and pressing her hands nervously against the wheels of her chair she moved herself back into her parlor — ^not care- fully as she had come out, but heedlessly and a8 FOR THB OTHER BOY'S SAKB bruising one hand against the door post as she entered. She could not sit still in the room. She kept moving herself about and at last almost despite herself her hand urged her chair in the direction of the hall. The boy must have heard the sound of her comings and her goings but he made no sign and lay there alone, his head on his arm, his face covered. After some time there was a ring at the door bell almost simultaneously with a ringing of Miss Rivers* bell that brought the housemaid rushing upstairs. " Who is below ? " asked the lady. " Two men with a carriage, ma'am ; they have come for the sick boy." " Tell them to bring him up here," said Miss Rivers. The girl withdrew and went tripping down the staircase. Miss Rivers had need of all her self-possession when a few minutes later a strange man stepped into the room with the little figure — alas, so strangely familiar — ^in his arms. Her expres- sion became sterner than usual ; she carefully avoided looking at the boy's face and said sharply to the man carrying him : " Put him down and tell Dr. Jeffrey that he isn't fit to be moved all over the town to-day. I will keep him here." "The doctor told us to keep him quiet, ma'am," said the man hesitatingly. FOR THE OTHER BOY^S SAKE 29 *^ Well, can I not do it — does this look like a wild house ? " asked the lady. " Who are you that you speak of quietness? " ''I come from the St. Barnabas Hospital, ma'am ; I am a nurse there'.'' " Put the boy down on that sofa," said Miss Rivers, " and go away." The man did as he was told. The maid hesitated, not knowing whether her mistress wished her to go or stay. " Finish your sewing," said Miss Rivers with a wave of her hand ; " I will ring when I want you." She was now alone with the boy and she sud- denly became seized with a fit of trembling that made her turn her back squarely on him and wheel herself toward a window where she sat looking fixedly out at the snow-covered trees and the deep blue sky through eyes that were dimmed with tears. The other boy — ^the other boy, how many times he had lain on that sofa to rest his weary little back ; how plainly she could see him there start- ing up as she csune in with the bright expectant look that she thought she should never see on any child's face again. She must look at this boy. She set her teeth hard and slowly began to turn her head. Just as she made this resolution Jeremiah got tired of lying on the sofa and putting his feet noiselessly on the floor he walked toward the window where was the very peculiar old lady who was Dr. Jeffrey's patient 30 FOR THE OTHBR BOY'S SAKB She sat so strangely quiet that he was afraid that she too was ill and putting out a hand he touched her gently. Miss Rivers nearly jumped from her seat Just so used the other boy to come and lay his hand on hers. " Good gracious, child," she exclaimed breath- ing violently and resting her head against the back of her chair, " you nearly frightened me to death." " I am sorry," said Jeremiah meekly. " I thought perhaps the faintness was catching." Miss Rivers half smiled, then she closed her eyes. Oh, the little patient face of long ago— how it was haunting her this morning. The pathetic, appealing expression that so often goes with deformity had been his. This boy had it too, but not so plainly she was thankful to see. She examined his features carefully, then she motioned him to go and sit down at a little dis- tance from her. No one had seen her wipe a tear from her eyes for years and she was determined that she should not be observed doing so now. Jeremiah picked up a magazine lying on the table and was quietly turning over the leaves when he caught sight of a sober gray cat enter- ing the room. He was half hidden by the cur- tain and the cat did not see him. She walked purringly up to her mistress and sprang on her lap. Jeremiah was very fond of animals and start- ing up he moved to a seat nearer Miss Rivers. FOR THS OTHER BOY^S SAKE 31 The cat caught sight of him and terribly alarmed at the appearance of a stranger, and a boy at that, in a room where no stranger had come for years she sprang wildly on Miss Rivers* shoulder, sticking her claws in her dress and so frantically pulling at a kind of head dress the old lady wore that it was torn from its place and fell bodily to the floor. Miss Rivers made a half-angry exclamation. The cat mewed while Jeremiah ran to the back of the chair and politely picked up the bunch of lace and ribbons with the fringe of hair hang- ing to it. "There now, boy," said Miss Rivers, "you have done a smart thing. I suppose you will go and tell every one that I wear a wig." Jeremiah stared at the combination of hair and millinery in admiring surprise. "Is that a wig? " he said. " I thought wigs were ugly." " Give it to me," said Miss Rivers. " It doesn*t add to my appearance to show my bald head. What did you think wigs were like ? " " I have only seen one," said Jeremiah. " An old fellovv in Riverfield lost his hair and he made himself something out of sheep skin and horse hair. It did not look like yours." " Why didn't he send away for one ? " asked Miss Rivers. " He was very poor. He kept geese for a liv- ing and they used to run away. I don't suppose you have any people here as poor as he was." " Haven't we," said Miss Rivers. " Just wait till you see our back streets." 3a FOR THE OTHBR BOY^S SAKB *' Oh, I forgot/* and Jeremiah^s face flushed iu a pained, ashamed way, '* I saw a place yesterday that was very bad. We have nothing in River- field like it" " Where was it ? " asked Miss Rivers. '' It was my aunt's house," said Jeremiah in a low voice. *' Oh, indeed ; tell me about it," said Miss Rivers. Jeremiah described to her the miserable home that he had seen, and Miss Rivers said nothing, though she eyed him keenly while he was speak- ing. *^ Now go and lie down again," she said when his story vi^ finished. " I don't feel weak now," said Jeremiah. " Never mind ; get on the sofa. When a per- son faints it shows weakness. I shall have an egg beaten up in a glass of milk for you pres- ently. Have you ever fainted before ? " "Oh, yes; often," said Jeremiah. "I don't mind it ; it is just like going to sleep, only — only," and his face clouded, " boys don't faint, it is a girl's trick." "You will outgrow it, probably," said Miss Rivers, " if you will do as you are told," and she stretched out one of her long lean fingers in the direction of the sofa. " Tell me about your home," she said, " while you are resting. Was it a town or a village ? " "They call it a settlement," said Jeremiah. " There are only a few houses there, and we all know each other, and no one is in a hurry, and FOR THB OTHBR BOY^S SAKB 33 the river is beautiful. It makes me think of the beautiful river of Zion. The houses are built beside it; and there are two mills and a dam with a ladder for the salmon to go up, and we used to fish with rods and dip-nets ; a fairy is a good fly for a dull day." " Is it ? " said Miss Rivers ; " I shall remember that if we go fishing. I daresay Riverfield would be a good summer place." " It is good for the whole year," said Jeremiah enthusiastically. " It is the finest place in the world. I should like to go there to-day, or rather to-morrow," he added politely. Miss Rivers said nothing, and Jeremiah occu- pied himself by glancing about the handsome, though somewhat somberly furnished room. " Is this your house ? " he said at last. " Yes," said Miss Rivers, " it is." " We have no house as large as this in River- field," said Jeremiah. "How many head of cattle have you ? " "I have neither cattle nor sheep," said Miss Rivers dryly. " We don^t measure our wealth in that way in the city. I own houses mostly." " Do you ? " said Jeremiah. " Then will you not give my aunt a good one ? " Miss Rivers looked keenly at the boy. What a little confiding face it was — there was no cun- ning there. " We shall see," she said shortly. " Your aunt may be a fraud." " What is a fraud ? " asked Jeremiah. " I am one," said Miss Rivers unexpectedly. c 34 FOR THB OTHBR BOY*S SAKB Jeremiah looked puzzled. '* A fraud is a cheat, a deception," said Miss Rivers. *' If I am a fraud I am pretending to be something that I am not." Jeremiah laughed in a merry, guileless fashion that stirred Miss Rivers* curiosity. "What is amusing you ? " she said. Jeremiah did not want to tell her, but being pressed to do so he said shyly, " I guess you like to make people think you are cross when you really are not. You were not mad with me about the cat. I saw through you." Oh, the sharp, quick insight of childhood! Miss Rivers turned her head aside. Just so had the other boy understood her. No matter how peevish and forbidding she might be with other people, to her he had always come confidingly — on her sympathies he had flung himself and his boyish troubles. Strange that there should exist another lad like him. " Don't talk to me for a while ; I am tired," she said. " I think I will take a nap," and wheeling herself away from the sofa, she dropped her head on the cushions of her chair-back. Jeremiah threw her a smile, and crossing his legs lay on his back staring up at the gilt ^ars on the ceiling. At seven o'clock that evening Miss Rivers fat alone enjoying, with a remarkably good appetit€» a grand dinner that was set before her. " Beware of dyspepsia," said Dr. Jeffrey, sud- denly appearing in the doorway. FOR TH8 OTHBR BOV'S SAKB 35 *' I shall have something worse than dyspepsia if you upset my house every day as you did to- day," said Miss Rivers agreeably. " Won't you have some coffee ? " ♦♦Thank you — where is the boy," and Dr. Jeffrey seated himself opposite his patient ♦♦In ted — you need not take him away to- night. I suppose you never thought to ask him last night if his feet were warm." ♦♦No, I did not." ♦♦ Men don't know how to take care of children —even if they are doctors," said Miss Rivers dis- dainfully. ♦♦ They need a woman's care. This is a delicate lad." ♦♦Yes," said Dr. Jeffrey. ♦♦! am afraid he won't live to grow up." Miss Rivers did not raise her eyes, but her fin- gers that were picking walnuts began to tremble. ♦♦ Is it cold to-night ? " she asked shortly. ♦♦ Yes, bitterly so. I fear the poor will suffer." ♦♦ By the way," said Miss Rivers, ♦♦ this boy is worrying about a poor family called Jackson. Do you know who their landlord is ? " ♦♦ You are," said Dr. Jeffrey. Miss Rivers did not look surprised. ♦♦ My agent is a hard man," she said. ♦♦ I shall write to him to house the^e people decently." Dr. Jeffrey sat for some time talking to her of happenings in the town, then he arose to go. ♦♦ Shall I send for the boy in the morning ? " he ask^ ♦♦ Jf you like," said Miss Rivers indifferently. ♦♦ I ^^ill let you have that new book I spoke of 36 FOR THB OTHBR BOY*S SAKB at the same time," said the young man cheer- fully. " Good-night," and he held out his hand. " Did the boy speak to you about his back ? " asked Miss Rivers. " You mean about his deformity ? " " Yes." " No, he did not ; I felt some delicacy about alluding to it so early in our acquaintance. Did he mention it to you ? " " Yes ; it worries him, young as he is. I think he cries about it at night. Could anything be done ? " Dr. Jeffrey shook his head. " I fear not. How- ever I will examine him. Does he suffer con- stant pain ? " " No, only at times." " You seem to be on very good terms with him," said Dr. Jeffrey, with a smile. ** What a misfortune that you cannot have him with you." Miss Rivers, at this bold remark, gave the young man such an overpowering look from her cold eyes that he laughed outright at her and ran away. Usually the lonely old woman spent the even- ing in reading and went to bed punctually at eleven o'clock. This evening she did not open one of the books or papers lying on the table and at ten, a whole hour earlier than usual, she called her maid to wheel her to her room. "First take me in to see if that boy is sleep- ing," she said, and her maid guided her chair into a large and lofty chamber where little Jere- miah was almost lost in a huge canopied bed. FOR THE OTHBR BOY^S SAKE 37 Miss Rivers slipped from the chair to the bed and drew a comfortable over the boy. Then she laid her hand on his forehead. Jeremiah seemed to be sleeping soundly, but at her touch he half opened his eyes, and nest- ling his face against her hand murmured, " Mother." Miss Rivers' first impulse was to snatch her hand away as quickly as if the boy's cool cheek had burned her, but she conquered herself. The hand remained and she sat looking down at him with the smothered affection of years rising and softening and overcoming her. What was it this lad had said to her to-day when he showed her his mother's photograph,- " You favor her." She, old, plain-featured, disagreeable, had been glorified by his liking for her into a resemblance to the sweet-faced woman whose picture he kept always next to his heart. Well, he should not suffer for it. For the other boy's sake she would be good to him, and turning to her maid she said less harshly than usual, "Take me to my room." When she was undressed and left alone for the night, she locked her door and limped painfully to a closet. There on the top shelf were some of the other boy's playthings. She reached up, and taking down several laid them on a chair. " He is a careful child ; he will not hurt them," she murmured ; then with a curious smile on her face and a still more curious lightness of heart, she laid herself down to sleep. 38 FOR THE OTHER BOY'S SAKE Dr. Jeffrey was a very much-amused and re- lieved young man. " It is better than a joke," he said, " because there is a lot of good at the I' ttom of it; but the old lady is not going to play any more of her tricks on me. I shall not send for him again." It had gotten to be a standing arrangement that Dr. Jeffrey should send every day to get lit- tle Jeremiah and that Miss Rivers should put off the messenger with an excuse that the boy was either dressing, or playing, or sleeping, or walk- ing, or engaged in some important occupation that could not be left. If he did not send for him Miss Rivers re- 'proached him with trying to foist an orphan on her. "I know what I will do," said the doctor. " I shall send her a bill for the man's loss of time in running to and from her house. That will settle her, for she is fond of her money." A bill accordingly Miss Rivers received and paid \/ithout a murmur, but never afterward did she open her mouth to the doctor on the subject of taking Jeremiah away. " I have seen a good many queer people," said Dr. Jeffrey one morning when he was on his way to her house, "but of all people she is the queerest." Though it was still early in the morning Miss Rivers and Jeremiah were just coming back from a drive. Their carriage drove up to the door in front of the doctor's modest buggy and FOR THE OTHER BOY^S SAKE 39 the footman assisted the lady and the boy into the house where Dr. Jeffrey joined them. " Now go to the library and look over your lessons," said Miss Rivers ; ^' your tutor will soon be here." The boy hung up his cap and the cloak that partly concealed his crooked back and skipped down the hall. He was handsomely dressed now and the bell boy, if he had seen him, would have had no reason to mischievously inquire the name of his tailor. " How do you think he looks ? " asked Miss Rivers. " Finely ; I am glad to see some color in his cheeks. Your incessant care is working wonders in him. He may be a reasonably strong man yet" Miss Rivers looked pleased. Her own appear- ance was very much changed, though her phy- sician did not dare tell her so. Ever since the day she had resolved to act a mother's part toward the homeless lad, the joy of self-sacrifice had begun to enter hei heart and had so improved her that she seemed like another person. She would always be odd. She could not help that, but she was no longer disagreeable. For one thing she kept strictly to herself her resolve to protect Jeremiah as long as she lived and to provide for him after her d .ath, and only Dr. Jef- frey suspected her of more thpn a passing fancy for the child. She stood looking after him this morning with 40 FOR THE OTHER BOY^S SAKE a smile on her face. Then she said thoughtfully to Dr. Jeffrey, " I wanted to be rid. of him. I took him out early this morning so that he would not know of the trouble in the house." " What trouble ? " asked Dr. Jeffrey. " Did you not see in last evening's paper that I had had fifty dollars stolen from me ? " asked Miss Rivers. " No, indeed ; I am surprised to hear it. How did it happen ? " " Let us go into the drawing room, Jeremiah might hear us here." Dr. Jeffrey gave her his arm and she limped across the hall to a spacious and luxuriously furnished room. " A young Irish girl," said Miss Rivers seating herself in a plush chair, "who was acting as assistant to my cook saw some money on a table in my bedroom as she happened to be passing the door and stole it. I discovered the theft al- most immediately and suspecting that she had taken the money had her taxed with it. She made no attempt at denial and I had her ar- rested. She was taken to the police station while we were out." " How very sad," said Dr. Jeffrey. " It would give the little boy a shock if he heard it." " Yes," said Miss Rivers, " he is so very sym- pathetic. I never knew but one other child like him," and she sighed. " Would you like me to take him away for a day or two?" asked Dr. Jeffrey. " No, thank you. I have given strict orders FOR THE OTHER BOY'S SAKE 41 How not to have the affair mentioned in the house, and the papers have been destroyed. The girl will be tried this morning while he is at his lessons, so he won't know that I have gone to the courthouse." Miss Rivers had hardly finished speaking when Jeremiah came hurrying into the room. " Aunt Sarah," he said curiously, " where is Katie this morning? My rabbits were not fed last night; you know she always does it." " Katie has gone away," said Miss Rivers. " Why, she liked it here," said Jeremiah with wide-opened eyes. " What made her go away ? " " I had rather not tell you," said Miss Rivers. Jeremiah drew close to his guardian. " She is not dead, is she ? " he asked, every vestige of color leaving his face. " No, no," said Miss Rivers, " she is alive and well, but she is a bad girl. You will never see her again. Do go to your studies ; Mr. Smith will be here in five minutes." " Now, Aunt Sarah," said the boy decidedly, " I don't believe that. Katie is not a bad girl. Please tell me what has become of her ; " and Jeremiah who was a very determined little lad, and not above teasing when he wanted his own way, laid a coaxing hand on Miss Rivers' arm. Miss Rivers gazed helplessly at her physician. Why don't you tell him ? the young man's glance said plainly. "I will,'* said Miss Rivers aloud, then she turned to the lad. "Katie stole some money from me and I sent her to jail." 4a FOR THE OTHBR BOY'S SAKE "Katie stole money?" said the boy slowly. " It is impossible." " It is quite possible," said Miss Rivers dryly. " She says she did it" Jeremiah looked dazed. " Was she — ^was she crazy ? " ** No, she was homesick. She had just got a letter from Ireland saying that her mother was ill, and she took the money to pay her passage home." "Oh, I am so sorry," said Jeremiah. "She has a good mother, and she has often told me about the little house and the peat fire and the children and the pigs — Katie loves animals. Will her mother die, do you think ? " " I don't know," said Miss Rivers indifferently, " I have not thought about it." " And Katie took the money to get home to her," said Jeremiah thoughtfully ; " was that the only thing you sent her to jail for. Aunt Sarah?" " The only thing — ^isn't that enough ? " " Of course it is wicked to steal," and Jeremiah shuddered ; " but only think. Aunt Sarah — sup- pose you were ill in Ireland, and I was here ; I am afraid — I am afraid," and the little boy looked lovingly in her face, " that if I saw a lot of money lying about and did not pray hard to God to keep me from taking it that I should snatch it," and Jeremiah quite overcome by the harrowing thought of his good friend on a sick bed across the water and himself in a prison cell, laid his head on Miss Rivers' shoulder to hide the sudden emotion that overpowered him. FOR THB OTHBR BOY'S SAKB 43 Miss Rivers* face softened. To imagine Jere- miah in Katie's place gave the affair a different aspect " I am sorry too," she said ; " but it is wicked to steal. " And it is wicked to do lots of other things," said Jeremiah. " My mother used to say, Aunt Sarah, that some things we want to do and some we don't want to do, and — ^and — and — " and Jeremiah, too much upset by the communication just made to him to reason, broke down, and clasping his hands behind his back walked away from Miss Rivers to the hearth rug. "He has a vivid imagination," said Miss Rivers to the doctor in a low voice. " He fan- cies that girl with her face against prison bars, whereas, I dare say, she does not feel so badly as he does." " Take me to see her. Aunt Sarah, won't you? " said Jeremiah suddenly turning around. " She would tell me the truth, and if she is really sorry won't you let her go ? It must be dreadful to be locked up — dreadful." Miss Rivers looked at him for some minutes in silence, then she said, " No, I cannot take you to that court-room. I do not believe in sensa- tional spectacles for children. You would not sleep for a week ; but I will go and see what I can do for Katie. I wish now that I had not had her arrested. Good-bye, it is time to leave," and she stooped down to kiss him. She had risen from her chair, but Jeremiah threw his arms so enthusiastically about her neck that she sank back again. 44 POR THB OTHBR BOY^S SAKB " Dear Aunt Sarah," he said, smothering her with kisses. Miss Rivers pushed him away, and glanced half apologetically at the doctor. He affected to take no notice of Jeremiah's demonstrative caresses, and said briefly, "May I accompany you ? '* " Certainly," said Miss Rivers, and they drove from the house together. It was certainly a touching scene. There was a crowded court-room, a grave judge, and a young girl, not yet seventeen, sitting alone in the dock — 2i stranger in a strange land, and a prisoner. Her head hung on her breast. Her frank face, down which the tears were dropping slowly, was half hidden. One could hardly believe in seeing how modest and neat she was, that she could have committed the theft charged against her. Miss Rivers* face was worried and perplexed. She was obliged to appear as the prosecutrix, and she was heartily sorry now that she had had the girl arrested. "I am glad that you came with me," she whispered to Dr. Jeffrey. "This is a trying ordeal for a woman. I am glad that I am not in the poor girPs place," and she shuddered. " You do not feel ill, do you ? " asked Dr. Jef- frey anxiously. " No, no," said the old lady, then she rose and proceeded to give her testimony in a firm voice. Katie stole a grateful glance at her from under wet eyelashes when Miss Rivers said : " I have FOR THB OTHBR BOY^S SAKB 45 had this girl in my employ for ten weeks. Until the theft of the fifty dollars she conducted her- self in a thoroughly honest manner." Wlisn it came to the account of the taking of the money Katie lost her composure, and rock- ing herself to and fro on her chair wept bitterly. She could hardly recover herself when she was called to the stand, and in almost unintelligible accents gave a sketch of a happy far-away home where unfortunately such poverty existed that she had been forced to come to another country to earn her living. When she came to the part of her story where her mother was concerned she stretched out both hands toward the judge who was listening gravely to her. " The merciful God above knows that I never took a penny before, but when I heard that my dear old mother at home was like to die " sh6 could not proceed and fell back on her seat with a stifled cry. So genuine was her grief that every one pres- ent was affected. Some of the old frequenters of the court — ^men with hardened faces — ^were seen stealthily wiping tears from their eyes, and Dr. Jeffrey thought he heard a sob from his com- panion, though he was careful not to look at her. The judge was evidently convinced of the sin- cerity of the girPs repentance. " I know that you must be sorry for what you have done," he said, turning toward her ; " sentence will be suspended in your case. You may go." There was a rustle of relief all through the 46 FOR THB OTHBR BOY^S SAKE court-room. "If there are any humanitarians present," went on the judge looking about him, " here is a case for them. I hope that some one may be found to take charge of this young girl, and see that she does not wander again from the paths of honesty." " For Jeremiah's sake I will do it," whispered Miss Rivers to herself, and when she saw that there was a little stir about her where an enthusi- astic young man had started a subscription list among the lawyers to pay the girl's passage to Ireland, she whispered a few words to Dr. Jeffrey. He wrote two lines on a piece of paper and handed it to the young lawyer, who looked up at him and smiled and nodded. A few minutes later Miss Rivers, Dr. Jeffrey, and Katie left the courthouse together. Jeremiah had been excused from his lessons and stood with his face pressed against the win- dow pane. When he saw the carriage returning with Katie in it he laughed aloud in his delight and ran down the front steps to greet her. " Oh, Katie, I am so glad that you have come back ! Good, kind Katie, I have missed you." "May all the saints be good to your little honor," said the girl, who looked weak and ex- hausted. " My heart has just been breaking to see you." " Let Katie go to her room," said Miss Rivers, " she is tired." " She will stay now, and not go away, won't she, auntie ? " asked Jeremiah excitedly. " No," said Miss Rivers ; " I think she had FOR THB OTHBR BOY'S SAKB 47 better go to Ireland at once, and see this mother to whom she is so much attached. Then if she wishes to come back she may — and possibly her family may want to come with her. Will you see about engaging a passage for her ? " and Miss Rivers turned to Dr. Jeffrey. " With the greatest pleasure," said the young man. " I will go at once," and he hurried from the room. "Jeremiah," said Miss Rivers, drawing the little boy to her, " I have done this for you." He pressed her hand affectionately and looked up into her face. " I have been a hard old woman, I fear I am one now," said Miss Rivers ; " but, as you sing in your old-fashioned hymn. While the lamp holds out to bum The vilest sinner may return. And another thing I want to tell you," she went on, laying her hand on the lad's head, " when you first came here I loved you for another boy's sake, now I love you for your own." " And I love you," said Jeremiah enthusiastic- ally. " I don-t know why, but I just love you — and I feel as if I couldn't keep still," he went on, fidgeting about on his toes. " I wish I had the strength to dance as David did. Auntie, let's do something, let's do the best thing we can. Sup- pose we say the I^ord's Prayer together." "Very well," said Miss Rivers gravely, and drawing the little boy to her knee, they repeated 48 FOR THE OTH8R BOY*S 8AKB reverently together, ** Our Father which art in heaven.'* Katie went to Ireland, and after a time re- turned to America, bringing, as Miss Rivers had prophesied, her whole Family along with her — among them her beloved mother, who had be- come quite well and strong again. Katie did not go back to Miss Rivers, but went with her family to live on one of the Riverfield farms that her kind patron bought for them. ** I never thought I should again be led by a little child," said Miss Rivers one day ; ** but I am. Jeremiah, I hope that the Lord will spare me for some years yet to you." Jeremiah was reading the Bible to her at the time, and looking up brightly he said : " I hope so too, auntie." ch art in time re- ivers had ith her — 3 had be- vers, but le of the ought for ; led by a ; *'but I ^ill spare ler at the " I hope n POOR JERSEY CITY {EAR the city of Halifax, Nova Scotia, is a beautiful place called Princess Lodge ; so named because the father of Queen Victoria of England once had a country house there. The house is in ruins now and the garden has grown wild, but the old road still winds up from the city past the quiet spot and leads on to the town of Bedford, situated at the head of the Basin — ^the sheet of water on the shores of which the house was built. Walking along this road one hot day a few summers ago was a waggish-looking dog of the breed known as bull terrier. He was going slowly and he acted as if he was very tired. Presently with a heavy sigh he dropped down on a patch of grass under some spreading trees. A red cow, munching clover on the opposite side of the road, lifted her head and looked fix- edly at him. " How do you do, madame ? " he said. The cow said nothing but continued to stare at him. " In my country we speak when we are spoken to," said the dog wearily yet mischievously. D 49 50 POOR JSRSEY CITY The cow switched her tail and lowered her head still more. " A cow that shakes her tail when there aren't any flies on her and a horse that shakes his when you touch him with the whip, are two things that I haven't much use for," said the dog with a curl of his lip. " But don't distress your- self, madame, I have no intention of running at you. Lie down and nave a talk with me ; I am dying to hear the sound of my own voice." The red cow scanned him all over for the space of a few minutes, then she doubled her legs under her and began to chew her cud. " You have beautiful eyes, madame," said the dog politely. "I wish I had such eyes, they would have made my fortune." " Who are you ? " asked the cow. The dog threw back his head and laughed. " You Nova Scotian animals beat everything — ^so English, you know^ — ^you never enter into con- versation with strangers till you learn their whole pedigree. What would you suppose had been my business, madame, to look at me ? " "You are not a tramp dog," said the cow, " because you have on a silver collar." " Well put, madame ; but I may cheat you yet in spite of that silver collar. Don't put too much faith in a bit of metal." " Have you run away from home? " inquired the cow with some curiosity. " I have never had a home, madame." The cow forgot to chew her cud and let her lower jaw hang down as she stared at him. POOR JERSEY CITY 5X " Shut your mouth, madame, you don*t look pretty with it open," said the dog slyly. "You have not told me what your business is," replied the cow in some vexation. Without speaking the weary dog rose from the grass and proceeded to stand on his head, dance on his hind legs, turn somersaults, and perform a number of other curious tricks. Half in fear and half in astonishment the cow stumbled to her legs and watched him from be- hind the tree. " Frightened, madame ? " said the dog throwing himself again on the grass and bursting into laughter. " Why you could kill me with one of those horns of yours. I suppose you have never seen an exhibition of this kind before. 1*11 give you lots of them, for love too— no tickets re- quired — if youUl do me the trifling favor of tell- ing me of a quiet place where I can spend a few days." The cow would not come out from behind the tree. " Who are you ? " she said shortly. " Oh, I'm a clown dog in a show," said the terrier impatiently. " Bankston & Sons' Great Traveling Exhibition of Trained Animals — ^have you never heard of them ? They're in Halifax now and I've cut them." " Cut them," repeated the cow slowly. ** Yes ; got tired of them, bored to death — ^run away, skedaddled." " And are you not going back ? " "No, madame, I am not." " What is to become of you ? " 52 POOR JERSEY CITY **I don^t know and don^t care as long as I never see that old show again," " I have never met any animals like you," said the cow nervously ; " I think I will go home." The dog got up and made her a low bow. " Thank you, madame ; my originality has always been my drawing card, and your suspicions do you credit. You are exactly like all the other cows that I have met. Permit me to say that the slightest taint of Bohemianism would spoil you." " What is Bohemianism ? " asked the cow with some curiosity. The dog smiled. " Bohemianism — what is it ? I don't know. Taking no thought for the morrow will perhaps best express it to you." " I don't like the sound of it," said the cow. " I dare say not, madame. You probably like to look ahead and think of your comfortable stall and good food and pleasant home, don't you ? " " Yes," said the cow. " You would not like to live on the road as I am doing, not knowing what minute you may be pounced upon and run back to town and " " Well," said the cow, " what were you going to say ? " " I was about to tell you what would happen to me if I am caught." " What would happen ? " " Did you ever go to a circus, madame ? " " No." " Or to any kind of a performance where ani- mals were made to do tricks ? " "•^u. POOR JBRSBY aTY 53 ** I have seen animals in cages going by on the trains." " And they looked happy, didn't they ? " The cow shuddered. " Oh no, no ; there was a dreadful look in their eyes." " But you should see them on the stage," said the dog ironically. " A goat rolling a barrel is a charming sight, and a pig wheeling a barrow is another. The people scream with delight at dancing monkeys and leaping dogs. I guess if they kiiew ^" "Knew what?" "Knew everything," exclaimed the dog bit- terly, as he paced back and forth on a narrow strip of grass. " The public see the sugar — an animal gets through a pretty trick and he runs to his trainer for a lump. They don't notice the long whip in the background. I tell you I have felt that whip many a time, and I am accounted a smart dog." " I hate to be run along the road, or have boys throw stones at me," said the cow mildly. " It makes me fee? bad and poisons my milk." " I never heard of a cow doing tricks," said the dog, stopping in his walk — "by-the-way, what's your name ? " " Mooley." " Mooley, is it ? And mine is " Jersey City." Jersey City, the clown dog in Bankston & Sons' Big Show, and in just about one hour you'll see Bankston's trainer on his bicycle spinning around the curve in this road looking for me." " How do you know that ? " asked the cow. S4 POOR JERSEY CITY "Well, you see I ran away this morning. There aren't many ways to leave the city down yonder. Old Jimson will know that I have too much sense to jump into the Atlantic Ocean. I wouldn't be likely to cross the harbor in a ferry boat. He'll guess that I've taken this road along which we came in the train, so that I can make for Boston." " Do you belong to Boston ? " "No, I don't belong anywhere. I wasn't stolen from a lovely home like the dogs in the story books. I was bom and brought up in the show ; but I'm tired and sick of it now, and my bones ache, and I'd rather die than go back. Good-bye, I'll just crawl off here in the woods till I feel like looking for something to eat. You'll not say anything about having seen me ? " " No, I will not," said the cow slowly. " I'm sorry for you, and I'll do what I can to help you. If you will follow me, I'll show you an old fox hole where you can hide till dark. Then if you will come up to my stable I'll put you in the way of getting something to eat" " Thank you," said the dog gruffly. Then he muttered under his breath, " I wasn't such a fool after all to trust the old softie. She'll not give me away," and he walked painfully after her up a green and shady path leading to a thick wood. " I never felt such a good bed in my life," murmured Jersey City rapturously. It was one week later and in the middle of a hot July day. He lay stretched out on a patch *-4Jta POOR JERSEY CITY 55 of thick fern moss. Above him on a bank grew lovely purple violets and the trailing green lin- naea studded with pink bells. The air was full of the delicate perfume of the flowers, and the sun- light filtering through the treetops lay in waver- ing patches on the moss, the flowers, and Jersey City's dark body. " You look like a happy dog," said the cow, who had just come walking up a path and stood knee deep in ferns. "I am happy, thanks to you, Mooley," said Jersey City. " I never had such a good time in my life. Oh, this is delicious," and he buried his muzzle in the moss. The cow surveyed him in placid satisfaction. " Why do you not stay here instead of going to Boston, as you plan to do ? " " Well, you see, Mooley, I am a marked char- acter here. As soon as I show myself I'll be spotted. You've lots of English bull terriers about here, but not any like me. I'm what is called a Boston terrier, and I'd better get back to the place where I can mingle with a number of other dogs resembling myself." " The search is over now," said Mooley kindly. " A milkman's cow who was driven out from the city yesterday, told me that Bankston & Sons' Big Show had gone away. I don't think that you are in any danger." " Perhaps not," said Jersey City thoughtfully, "and I don't know how to leave this lovely place. Oh, Mooley, what a change for a weary dog from the heat and noise and dust of theatres 56 POOR J8BSBY CITY and halls and railway trains. I should like to stay here forever." " Do you not get lonely ? " asked Mooley. Jersey hesitated an instant. " You have been very good to me, Mooley, and I hope you won't think me ungrateful if I say I could stay in this wood forever if I only had one thing." " What is that ? " inquired the cow. " Some human being to be with me." " I understand that," said Mooley. " You see," went on the dog, " we four-legged animals were made to serve the two-legged ones, and we can't be happy without them. I am ashamed to say that tears come in my eyes when I think of cross old Jimson, and the Bankstons, who weren't much better. It is such a bittet feeling not to be with the people who have had me since I was a little puppy, that sometimes I feel as if I must run back to them." " Don't you do it," said the cow hastily. " No, I won't ; I just think what a whipping 1 should get, and that stops my paws when I want to run." " You have never told me what your life was like," said Mooley, lying down near him and drawing some of the ferns into her mouth. " In season time — ^that is when we were travel- ing — ^it was the train nearly all day, and per- formances nearly every night. You see it is an enormous expense to take car loads of animals from one city to another, and it must be done as quickly as possible. How my legs used to pain me from standing all day, for the dog car was POOR JBSSBY CITY 57 usually so crowded that we could not lie down. Then as soon as we arrived in a town we were herded together like sheep, and the trainer drove us to the place where we were to give our per- formance. We waited our turns to go on the stage. I always wore a Toby collar made of deep lace, and my rdle was to make people laugh." "To make them laugh," said the cow. "I don't understand." " I was like the clown in a circus. Whenever an animal did a smart trick I had to follow him and turn a somersault, or fail in some way in trying to do it, though I knew well how it should be done. Then I faced the audience and laughed like this," and Jersey City, turning back his lips, grinned dismally at the cow. "I don't see anything funny in that," said Mooley. " The people used to," said Jersey City dryly. " They would go o£E in roars of laughter ; and often I would listen to them with a sore heart. I'm very fond of human beings, but I don't alto- gether understand them. They cry about things that you'd think they'd laugh about, and they laugh about things that you'd think they would cry about. Now I never used to see anything in our cage trick but a cruel trap." '* What is a cage trick ? " asked Mooley. " There's a big revolving thing in the middle of the stage, and dogs climb up on it and hang by their paws — ^then it is whirled round. I have seen little dogs clinging to the top with a look of mortal terror on their faces, for they knew if 5« POOR JBRSBY aTY they were to fall they would break their legs^ and yet the people laughed. Only occasionally a little child would cry." " I won *.er how the men and women would feel if they were hanging there ? " said Mooley half angrily. " Yes, I wonder ; if any one asked me to go to see men and women and children running about on their hands and feet, I'd say * What a silly performance; they weren't made to go in that way,' and yet they flock to see us going on two legs, which is just as unnatural." " Perhaps they don't think," said Mooley. "Perhaps so," said Jersey City. "There is one thing that they do think of, and that is hav- ing a good time and making money. That's what most human beings live for, Mooley." " My mistress doesn't," said Mooley. " By the way, who is your mistress ? " asked the dog. " A poor old widow who lives here. She is such a good woman and she takes fine care of me. I wish you would come and live with her." " I wish I could," said Jersey City wistfully. " Do you think she would take me in ? " " She is kind to everything that is in trouble," said Mooley. " I know that she would let you lie by the fire when the cold weather comes." "This is a very retired place," said Jersey City ; " that is, there aren't many people about." " There are only two houses near here besides the Widow May's," said the cow ; " then three miles away is the village." POOR JBRSBY CITY 59 »» ■ " That will just suit me for a while," said Jer- sey City. "I can*t bear to leave this lovely place; and I don^t believe that these families have heard that there is a reward offered for me." Mooley chuckled quietly. " What are you laughing at ? " the dog asked. ** Let me ask you a question in my turn," said the cow ; " why did you trust me with your story that day on the road ? " Jersey City hesitated for a short time. " Come, now, tell the truth," said the cow. " Well, Mooley, I thought you looked honest." " And stupid," added the cow. " I know you did; but you clever traveled animals must re- member that the stay-at-home ones aren't always so stupid as they seem. I did you a good turn that day ; for as soon as I brought you to this wood I returned to the village. I knew that the man looking for you would stop there." " And did he ? " asked Jersey City breathlessly. " Yes, he asked at the post oflBce about you. Nobody paid much attention to him ; then he tacked a piece of paper on a tree and jumped on his bicycle and rode away." " That was Jimson," said Jersey City bitterly. "What do you think I did to the paper?" asked Mooley. " I don't know — what did you ? " " Ate it,'' said the cow, her great brown eyes full of merriment ; " tore it in strips from the tree and chewed it finer than my finest cud." " Mooley," exclaimed Jersey City in delight, " you ought to have been a dog." 6b POOR JBR8BY aTV ** Thank you, my friend, I prefer to remain an animal that cannot be taught tricks. But you must hear the rest of my tale. After I tore down the paper I had to go home, lest the widow should think I had wandered away ; but I met my brother, who is an ox and lives farther up the Basin road, and I told him that if he saw any of those bits of paper on trees he was to tear them off. He will pass the word to the other oxen who are in the woods, and I think you need have no fear of remaining here." Jersey City sprang up and affectionately touched his nose to the cow's head. " You good old Mooley, I shall keep an eye on you as you go to and from your pasture, and if any boys chase you, I will bite their heels." Jersey City took the advice of his friend the cow, and one day went to lie under the apple trees in the Widow May's orchard. She saw him there and spoke kindly to him, and the next day he took up a position under the window. She noticed that he was very thin — ^for not being uspd to provide for himself, he had con- siderable difficulty in finding enough to eat — and preparing a plate of bread and milk she put it on the doorstep. This he ate with so much gratitude and with such a pleading look in his dark eyes, that the widow invited him into her house, and there by the time autumn came he was snugly and con- tentedly domiciled. One day when the first snowflakes of the sea- POOR JBRS8Y CrtY 6x son were flying through the air, Jersey City sprang up on a chair by the window and looked out. ** I wonder whether Mooley is snug and warm," he said to himself. Then he ran out to the Widow May^s small stable. Yes, Mooley was comfortable for the night, and lay on her bed of straw with a sleepy look in her eyes. "Where is our mistress, Jersey City?" she asked. " Gone to the village to buy meal and mo- lasses. She has very little money left," said Jersey City soberly, "and human beings are helpless without that." Mooley looked uneasily at him. " I hope that she will not have to sell me. If she does, I shall be terribly unhappy and my milk will be spoiled. I wish that her son would send her some more »» money " Her son is a sailor, you told me, didn't you ? " said Jersey City. " Yes ; a fine young man. He goes to the West Indies. I hope that his ship is not lost." " I try to eat as little as I can," said Jersey City, " but this is such a wholesome place that I am hungry all the time." " You have got quite fat and sleek since you came here," said Mooley, looking at him with satisfaction. " You are the handsomest dog that I ever saw." •' Thank you for the compliment," said Jersey City laughing ; " you remember I told you the \ 62 POOR JBRSBY CITY first time we ever met that you had beautiful eyes." " You were rather saucy to me that day," said Mooley smiling, "but you were tired and un- happy. You never feel in that way now, do you?" " Never, except when I am thinking of other dogs." "What dogs?" "Why, Bankston's dogs, the ones that were brought up with me. When I am lying by the fire so warm and comfortable they come into my mind, but I try to put them right out, for it seems as if I would go crazy thinking of their doing those dreadful tricks over and over again and being cold at night and half fed." " Run away to meet the widow," said Mooley, "it is time for her to come and it is getting dark." Jersey hurried from the stable and down the frozen road. Soon he espied a little bent figure in a black dress, and jumping and springing with delight about her and carrying a fold of her dress in his mouth, he escorted her to the house door. Half an hour later the Widow May sat down to her scanty tea of bread and molasses. Jersey City lay on a small mat before a wood fire in the kitchen stove and gazed lovingly at her. Presently there was a knock at the door. Jer- sey City got up and stood before the widow till he saw one of the neighbors entering;, then he slunk behind the chairs in the small bedroom. POOR JERSEY CITY 63 "Good evening, Mrs. May/* said a young man in a cheery voice, " I've just stepped in to see how you are — ^what's that, a cat ? " " No, a dog," said Mrs. May, " a poor stray thing that came to me in the summer. I think he must have been stolen from some nice family, for he had on an expensive collar." " You call him Rover, do you," said the young man absently. "Yes— come here, good dog," and she rose and went to the door. " I should like you to see him. He is such a handsome dog, but he is shy. He always hides when any one comes, and I can never get him to go to the village with me. )) " Does he do any tricks ? " asked the young man, with a far-a-way look in his eyes, for he was not thinking of the dog at all, but of a cer- tain newspaper in his pocket. " No, he is the most stupid dog I ever saw, but he is very loving and I shall never turn him away." "How long is it since you have heard from your son? " asked the young man suddenly. " Three months," said the widow, turning her quiet gray eyes toward him. " Does he usually go so long without writing," asked the young man. " Yes, sometimes — not often. Why, have you heard anything about him ? " " It is a dangerous calling to follow the sea," stammered her visitor, "and there are a good many gales in the fall." 64 POOR JBIU3BY CITY me- " You know something," said the widow, " tell The young man looked hesitatingly round the kitchen. "It mayn't be true, Mrs. May, but — " and he father said I'd best prepare you— pulled the newspaper from his pocket. see "Read it to me," said the widow, and she covered her face with one )) "I can't hand, while the young man hurriedly read a paragraph which reported a vessel called the " Swallow " to have been lost with all her crew. " But it may be only a rumor," he said com- fortingly. " Don't give up hope, Mrs. May." " No, I won't," she said ; " the I^ord knows what is best. If he has taken my son from me, I know that I shall soon go to join him." The young man was misled by her calmness. With an air of great relief he rose. " I am glad to see that you don't take it too hard, Mrs. May. I am going to town, and I'll make inquiries. Mother and Lucy will be over to see you to-mor- row. Good-night," and after warmly shaking her hand he left her. As soon as the door closed behind him, Jer- sey City left his hiding-place and ran to look anxiously in his mistress' face. He was fright- ened by what he saw. Better than the young man he could read her expression, and he knew that her heart was breaking. Slowly she went into her little room and lay down on the bed. Hour after hour passed and she did not move. Jersey City sat uneasily watching her. She had not cleared away the tea dishes and POOR JBKSEY CITY 6S she had forgotten to put out the lamp. It was not like her to waste anything. After a time he sprang up on the bied. Her face and hands were quite cold, and when he licked them to make them warm she moaned feebly* Jersey City lay down close beside her, so that she would get some warmth from his sleek body. He did not close his eyes that night, and by the time the morning came he was nearly frantic. The gray streaks of dawn stealing in at the win- dow showed him that his dear mistress was in- sensible. In vain he tried to rouse her. " She will die if I do not bring some one to her," he said. "I will go and speak to Mooley." He could easily unfasten the latch of the back door by pressing his paw upon it, and he hur- ried out to the stable. " Mooley," he cried, " the widow is very ill, what shall we do ? " Mooley stumbled to her feet and looked at him uncertainly. " One of us must go to the neighbors," went on Jersey City. " What can a cow do ? " asked Mooley feebly. " Oh, my poor mistress," and she leaned against the side of her stall. " You can go to Jones* and stand by their gate and low," said Jersey City. "Then they will know that there is something the matter and will follow you home." Mooley's legs bent under her, and with a moan she lay down. 66 POOR JERSEY CITY " What is the matter, are you ill too? " asked Jersey City. " Oh, yes I am," said the cow, " what a fool I have been." " What have you done ? '* " I drank some fish oil last evening. I didn't know what it was," said Mooley dismally ; " it was standing by the grocer's and I was thirsty." " You old simpleton," said Jersey City sharply. Then he added more kindly, " That was not like you, Mooley." " I am just like old Mr. May, the widow's hus- band, who is now dead," said the cow with a sigh. " He had a great thirst and was always drinking something he shouldn't." " Well, it can't be helped," said Jersey City ; " put your head down and go to sleep ; I see you can't walk. I'll go to Jones'." "But some one may recognize you," said Mooley ; " be careful what you do. Oh, I shall never forgive myself if it is found out that you are a runaway dog." "Don't worry," said Jersey City; but as he trotted down the lane he muttered to himself: " I am afraid they will. This is a most unfor- tunate affair. I wish I had been bom a cur and not such a remarkable looking dog." Ten minutes later he was looking desperately up at the Jones' window. "Oh, what stupid people. I have barked and scratched and clawed at the door, but they won't come out. I'll have to go to the village. What sleepy heads they must be ; they ought to have been up long ago ; TOOR JBRSBY CITY 67 however I must lose no time. AVhat should I do if my kind mistress were to die ? " At this thought he raced ofiE at full speed to the village. The grocer, who was an early riser, was just taking down his shutters. Jersey City, who had scarcely any breath left, rushed up to the shop and dropped panting on the doorstep. The grocer looked at him. " Get out of this, you impudent dog. Get out, I say," and he kicked him aside as he went into the shop. Jersey City came back and stood behind him as he bent over to kindle a fire in his stove. " Not gone yet," said the grocer, looking over his shoulder and throwing a piece of wood at him. " Ugh, I hate dogs." Jersey City rushed out, his heart beating almost to suffocation. There pinned against a row of canned vegetables he had seen a placard bearing a large picture of himself and offering a reward of one hundred dollars for his recovery. Jimson was a clever man — ^he had not given him up. What an unobserving man the grocer was not to have recognized him. He had better hurry away before he did so. He ran several paces then he stopped. " I love the widow," he thought, " and she has been very good to me. Can I let her die alone ? " " No, no," something seemed to say inside him. " But if I make myself known to this cross grocer he will give me up to Jiuison. How can I go back to thai life ? " reflected poor Jersey City in deep misery. 68 POOR JBRSBY CITY He lifted his eyes to the blue sky. " It is so . pleasant here in this open country. If I go back to the show I shall die. Never mind, I must do my duty or I shall despise myself," and without hesitating an instant longer, he hurried back to the grocer. A few tumbles on the floor and a sad little waltz on his hind legs around some empty boxes brought the attention of the amazed man upon him. With his mouth wide open and holding up his sooty hands, the grocer looked from the perform- ing dog to the placard on the wall. " The circus dog, as sure as I live," he mut- tered. "That's one hundred dollars in some- body's pocket ; I wonder if I can catch him." He snatched up a piece of rope and went cau- tiously after Jersey City, who had danced out through the door and into the road. Jersey City was careful not to let him catch up with him, and the grocer, half laughing, half angry, fol- lowed what he supposed was a crazy dog till he got near the widow's cottage. Then Jersey City gave up his antics and ran to the house as fast as he could go. The grocer ran after him, exclaiming, " Soho, this is where you have found a hiding-place, is it ? " Then he stopped short and threw up his hands, for on the bed lay a poor old woman, who looked as if she was dead. It was a beautiful winter day. The sun was shining gloriously on white fields of snow and POOR JBKSBY CIT7 69 on the blue waters of the Basin. Everything in the landscape was calm and cheerful except two distressed figures of animals that stood on a high bank overlooking the water. One could tell that they were unhappy just to look at them. The cow stood with a drooping head, and there was a sad expression in her beau- tiful eyes. The dog's tail hung limp, his ears were not pricked ; there was a desperate, hunted expression on his face. " I wish you would give me a toss with your horns a