Evelyn Raymond - Divided Skates

This was Miss Lucy’s opportunity; her last chance, as she realized. The waif had not at all comprehended her meaning when she spoke of “home,” and so she had not committed herself. Many thoughts surged through her troubled mind. She remembered that she was the last of an old, aristocratic family, which had always believed in its womenkind being domestic and not at all strong-minded. She had been inclined to think that other women, who instituted “homes,” or engaged in any sort of public charity, rather stepped beyond the limits of good breeding, and had felt herself superior to them.

Then there were the neighbors. It was an old-fashioned, handsome “square” on which her house stood, and everybody owned his or her home. It was the pride of these people that there was never a house to let. And, indeed, it was a charming locality. Each residence stood upon a double lot, which gave a pretty, open-air sort of appearance to the place; and since there were so few families which could live upon the block, yet remained there so long, each became thoroughly acquainted with the habits and circumstances of the others.

This was sometimes unfortunate. Miss Lucy felt it so now. She went through the long drawing-room and peered between her own lace curtains into the park which filled the centre of the square, and was another of its aristocratic features. She noticed that the trees were loaded with the snow which was accumulating rapidly; and, as a car rattled by, its roof was heaped with a light drift, and the motorman was slapping his breast with his free arm to keep himself warm.

“Those horrid cars!” thought the little lady. “With all our efforts to prevent, we couldn’t keep them off the Avenue. They are so distinctly plebeian – yet convenient. I suppose it would upset the whole neighborhood worse than they did if I should do it. They might even come and remonstrate; and I should die of shame if I did anything to make myself objectionable to the neighbors. My grandfather’s was the first house built here. It was his taste selected and perfected that square, and his firmness which kept it so exclusive till the land about was all sold and its future assured. What would he say if I should do it! Yet, why shouldn’t I? I’m lonesome much of the time, and now that Sir Christopher is gone there’s nobody left. I – I – ”

Just then a great gust of wind caught up an armful of snow, so to speak, and tossed it against the shining window where Miss Lucy stood. That decided her; and it was like the little lady to be extremely cautious and timid up to a certain point, then to rush energetically toward the opposite extreme. She turned from the spot with a jerk and hurried into the inner room.

Not a moment too soon. Towsley had taken his ragged cap in his hand, fastened his torn jacket by its one button, and was shuffling carefully along the hall toward the front door. Miss Armacost espied him just in time.

“Wait, child. I’ve something to say to you. Come back into the light and warmth. It’s cold and dark outside.”

“Yes’m. So I s’pose,” he answered, obeying her rather reluctantly.

“Don’t you want to stay? Isn’t it pretty here?”

“Oh, yes’m. It’s mighty pretty. But, you see, if I don’t get down to the office early, the other kids’ll get my place. If I lose it once I mayn’t never get it again.”

“The office? Your place? What do you mean?”

“Down to th’ Express . There’s some steam holes in the sidewalk, you know, and they’re as warm as summer. We newsboys lie around ’em, waiting for our papers, and sleep there till they’re ready. Each of us has his own spot, and mine’s an inside one, close to the wall of the building. You ain’t so likely to get trod on if you’re inside, and the whole crew’s after my ‘bed.’ If I shouldn’t get there to look out for it, and another fellow got it, it’d be all day for Towsley. So I’ll be going, ma’am, and much obliged for the stuff.”

Poor Miss Lucy’s face had grown very white. She had never heard anything so pitiful as this, yet the lad explained his circumstances in a cheery, matter-of-fact way that showed he found nothing depressing in them.

“Do you mean to stand there and tell me that that story is true?”

“What about it? I ain’t meaning anything, only telling why I’ve got to hurry. Could you, please, ma’am, say the time of night?”

“It’s a little after nine.”

“That all? Then I can take it easy. Too late for the night papers, and the mornings ain’t out till four o’clock, about.”

“To go to such a ‘bed,’ on such a night, after a supper of ice-cream and cake! I’ve always skipped such articles in the newspapers, for they’re so unpleasant, and I’ve never half believed them. But you mean it, do you?”

“That I must go? I don’t know what you want me to say. I guess I’ve slept my wits away, as Molly says.”

“Towsley, ring that bell. My! what a name!”

But the lady was pleased to see that he had remembered how to summon Mary, and as soon as that young woman appeared she was directed to get a supper ready in the breakfast-room.

“At once. Put on any cold meat there happens to be, and warm up the soup was left from dinner. I couldn’t touch it, you know, I was feeling so sad. Get plenty of bread and butter, and milk – and, yes, a piece of mince pie. Mrs. Livingston, across the square, never gives her children pie. She believes in oatmeal as a staple diet, but their grandmother indulges them when they visit her. For once, I fancy, it won’t hurt, and in the future I’ll – Oh! what a lot I shall have to learn; and how delightfully exciting it all is! Mary, don’t stare at me like that. It’s impertinent. I know you don’t mean it so, and you think I’m a little flighty. Well, I am. Very flighty, indeed! But – fancy old Madame Satterlee’s face!”

“Ma’am?” asked the puzzled servant, really afraid that grief for Sir Christopher had upset her mistress’ mind.

“I said: Get a supper ready in the breakfast-room. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am. For one or two?”

“For two. For this young gentleman and myself.”

“The land’s sake!” ejaculated the waitress, as she obeyed, though more astonished than ever. “Young gentleman, says she!”

Towsley began to understand that he was to have supper. He would not have troubled about such a small matter, of his own accord, remembering the cream and cake; but since it was mentioned he did feel a sort of emptiness inside, and his hazel eyes grew eager again. Miss Lucy’s own eyes were looking at the fire in the grate, and she was not, therefore, offended a second time by the child’s greediness. She was seeing pictures in the coals, and all of them were of Towsley – though such a different Towsley from the real one. Presently a doubt arose in her mind. Supposing that there should be some obstacle to her carrying out the plans which the pictures in the fire suggested? She turned suddenly and rather sharply upon the lad:

“Have you any people?”

“Ma’am?”

“Child, never say that. ‘Ma’am’ is vulgar and belongs to servants. Gentlefolks use the person’s name instead. You should have said, ‘Miss Armacost?’ or ‘Miss Lucy?’”

“Miss Lucy?”

“That’s right. You are quick-witted. That’s in your favor. I asked about your people; who they are and where they live.”

“I don’t know as I’ve got any. There’s Molly – she’s about the nicest one I know. Of course, there’s Mother Molloy, up alley, where I stay sometimes, with the other kids. That’s when I have the cash to pay up. Mother don’t take in nobody for nothing, Mother don’t. Can’t blame her, neither. It’s business. And once when I fell and got scared of the hospital she was real good to me. She made me tea and done up my head and treated me real square. When I got well I gave her something. Course I wanted to buy her a shirt waist, but they hadn’t any big enough, so I bought her a ring with a red stone. The ring was too small, but she could put it away for a keepsake. She’s dreadful fat, Mother Molloy is. She gets real good stuff to eat, ’cause the kids she keeps regular are on the best streets; and the ‘coons’ that live in the big houses save a lot for them. One of the boys works your kitchen, I believe. And – there’s Mary.”