Better luck next time. Do you really want a bag, lady?"

Again the tiny packet was extended persuasively, the small peddler being most anxious to make a sale although her honesty forbade her accepting payment for goods unsold.

But Miss Laura scarcely saw the paper bag, for she was looking with so much interest upon the child's own face. Such a gay, helpful, hopeful small face it was! Beneath a tangle of yellow curls, the brown eyes looked forth so trustfully, and the wide mouth parted in almost continual laughter over white and well-kept teeth. Then the white carnation pinned to the faded, but clean, blue frock, gave a touch of daintiness. Altogether, this seemed a charming little person to be found in such a locality, where, commonly, the people were poor and ill-fed, and looked sad rather than glad. The lady's surprise was expressed in her question, "Little girl, where do you live? How came you in this neighborhood?"

"Why--I belong here, 'course. Me an' grandpa live in the littlest house in Ne' York. Me an' him we live together, all by our two selves, an' we have the nicest times there is. But--but, did you want a bag?" she finished, pleadingly. Time was pa.s.sing and she was too busy to waste more. She wondered, too, why anybody so rich as to ride in a carriage should tarry thus long in Elbow Lane, though, sometimes, people did get astray and turn into the Lane on their way to cross the big bridge.

"Yes, little Glory, as I heard them call you, I meant just what I said.

I wish to buy all your stock as well as pay for a new basket. Will you please invite your friends to share the feast with you? I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble and here, the little boy suggested fifty-five cents, suppose we make it a dollar? Will that be wholly satisfactory?"

The face of Take-a-St.i.tch was again a study in its perplexity. The temptation to take the proffered money was great, but a sense of justice was even greater. After a pause, she said with complete decision, "It must be this way; you give me the fifty cents for Toni Salvatore--that'll be hisn. You take the goobers an' give 'em to who you want. I won't take no pay for the basket, 'cause I can mend it again; nor for myself, 'cause I hain't earned it. I hain't hollered scarce any to sell such a lot. That's fair. Will I put 'em in your carriage, lady?"

"No, no! Oh, dear! No, indeed. Call your mates and divide among them as you choose. Then--I wonder why my man doesn't come back. The coachman can't leave the horses, and the footman seems to have lost himself looking for a number it should be easy to find."

The children had gathered about Glory who was now beaming with delight at the chance to bestow a treat upon her mates as well as enjoy one herself. Indeed, her hunger made her begin to crack the goobers with her strong white teeth and to swallow the kernels, skins and all. But again Miss Bonnicastle touched her shoulder, though this time most gently, asking:

"If this is Elbow Lane, and you live in or near it, can you show me the way to the house of Captain Simon Beck, an old blind man?"

Glory gasped and dropped her basket. All the rosy color forsook her face and fear usurped its gaiety. For a time, she stared at the handsome old lady in terror, then demanded, brokenly, "Be--you--from--'Snug Harbor'?"

It was now the stranger's turn to stare. Wondering why the child had asked such a question and seemed so startled, she answered, "In a way, both yes and no. I am interested in 'Snug Harbor,' and have come to find an old, blind sea captain whom my brother employed, in order to take him, myself, to that comfortable home. Why do you ask?"

Then Glory fled, but she turned once to shake a warning fist toward Nick and Billy, who instantly understood her silent message and glared defiantly upon the lady who had just given them an unexpected feast.

CHAPTER IV

Beside Old Trinity

"Why, what is the matter? Why did she run away?" asked the astonished stranger.

Billy giggled and punched Nick who was now apportioning the peanuts among the children he had whistled to his side, but neither lad replied.

This vexed Miss Bonnicastle who had come to the Lane in small hope of influencing the old captain to do as her brother had wished him to do and to remove, at once, to the comfortable "Harbor" across the bay. She had undertaken the task at her brother's request; and also at his desire, had driven thither in the carriage, in order to carry the blind man away with her, without the difficulty of getting him in and out of street cars and ferry boat. It would greatly simplify matters if he would just step into the vehicle at his own humble door and step out of it again at the entrance to his new home.

But the Lane had proved even narrower and dirtier than she had expected.

She was afraid that having once driven into it the coachman would not be able to drive out again, and the odors of river and market, which the blind seaman found so delightful, made her ill. She had deprived herself of her accustomed afternoon nap; she had sprained her ankle in falling; her footman had been gone much longer than she expected, searching for the captain's house; and though she had been amused by the little scene among the alley children which had been abruptly ended by Glory's flight, she was now extremely anxious to finish her errand and be gone.

In order to rest her aching ankle, she stepped back into the carriage and from thence called to Billy, at the same time holding up to view a quarter dollar.

Master b.u.t.tons did not hesitate. He was glad that Nick happened to be looking another way and did not see the shining coin which he meant to have for himself, if he could get it without disloyalty to Glory.

Hurrying forward, he pulled off his ragged cap and inquired, "Did you want me, ma'am?"

"Yes, little boy. What is your name?"

"Billy."

"What else? Your surname?" continued the questioner.

"Eh? What? Oh--I guess 'b.u.t.tons,' 'cause onct I was a messenger boy.

That's what gimme these clo'es, but I quit."

He began to fear there was no money in this job, after all, for the hand which had displayed the silver piece now rested in the lady's lap; and, watching the peanut feasters, he felt himself defrauded of his own rightful share. He stood first upon one bare foot then upon the other, and, with affectation of great haste, pulled a damaged little watch from his blouse and examined it critically. The watch had been found in a refuse heap, and even in its best days had been incapable of keeping time, yet its possession by Billy b.u.t.tons made him the envy of his mates.

He did not see the amused smile with which the lady regarded him, and though disappointed by her next question it was, after all, the very one he had antic.i.p.ated.

"Billy b.u.t.tons, will you earn a quarter by showing me the way to where Captain Beck lives? that is, if you know it."

"Oh, I knows it all right, but I can't show it."

"Can't? Why not? Is it too far?"

Billy thought he had never heard anybody ask so many questions in so short a time and was on the point of saying so, impertinently, yet found it not worth while. Instead, he remarked, "I ain't sayin' if it's fur er near, but I guess I better be goin' down to th' office now an' see if they's a extry out. Might be a fire, er murder, er somethin' doin'."

With that courtesy which even the gamins of the streets unconsciously acquire from their betters, Billy pulled off his cap again and moved away. But he was not to escape so easily. Miss Laura's hand clasped his soiled sleeve and forth came another question, "Billy, is that little girl your sister?"

"Hey? No such luck fer b.u.t.tons. She ain't n.o.body's sister, she ain't.

She just belongs to the hull Lane, Glory does. Huh! Take-a-St.i.tch my sister? Wished she was. She's only cap'n---- Shucks!" Having so nearly betrayed himself, Billy broke from the restraining hand and disappeared.

Miss Bonnicastle sighed and leaned back upon her cushions, feeling that something evil must have befallen her faithful footman to keep him so long away, and almost deciding to give up this apparently hopeless quest. Then she discovered that Nick had drawn near. Possibly, he would act as her guide, even if his mate had refused. She again held up the quarter and beckoned the lad.

He responded promptly, his eyes glittering with greed as they fixed upon the coin--not to be removed from it till it was in his own possession, no matter how many questions were asked. These began at once, in a crisp, imperative tone.

"Little boy, tell me your name."

"Nick, the parson."

"Indeed? Nick Parsons, I suppose. Is it?"

"No'm. I'm Nicky Dodd. I got a father. He's Dodd. So be I, 'course. But the fellers stuck it onto me 'cause--'cause onct I went to a Sunday-school."

"Don't you go now, Nick Dodd?"

"No, indeedy! Ketch me!" laughed the boy, watching the gleam of the money his questioner held so lightly between her gloved fingers. What if she should drop it! If some other child should see it fall and seize it before he could! "Was--was you a-wantin' somethin' of me, lady?"

"Yes, I was. Will you show me the way to Captain Beck's house?"

Now Nick loved Glory as well as Billy did and he had as fully understood from her warning gesture that he was to give this stranger no information concerning her or her grandfather, but, alas! he also loved money, and he so rarely had it. Just then, too, the "Biggest Show On Earth" was up at Madison Square Garden and, if Nick had not remembered that enticing circus, he might not have betrayed his friend. Yet those wonderful trained animals----Ah!

"Fer that quarter? Ye-es, ma'am, I--I--will," stammered the lad.

So Miss Laura again left her carriage and walked the narrow, dirty length of the Lane, past the sharp bend which gave it its name of "Elbow," far down among the warehouses and wharves crowding the approach to the bridge. As she walked, she still asked questions and found that all the dwellers in the Lane were better known by their employments than their real names, how that Glory's deftness with a needle had made her "Take-a-St.i.tch," and anybody might guess why Jane was called "Posy" or Captain Beck had become the "Singer." Besides, she discovered that this ragged newsboy was as fond and proud of his "Lane" as she was of her avenue, and that if she had any pity to bestow, she needn't waste it on him or his mates and that----

"There 'tis! The littlest house in Ne' York," concluded Nick, proudly pointing forward, seizing the coin she held so carelessly, and vanishing.

"Well! have I become a scarecrow that all these children desert me so suddenly!" exclaimed Miss Laura, looking helplessly about and lifting her skirts the higher to avoid the dirty suds which somebody was emptying into the gutter.