Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Timothy's quest
 Back Cover

Group Title: Timothy's quest : a story for anybody, young or old, who cares to read it
Title: Timothy's quest
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00083172/00001
 Material Information
Title: Timothy's quest a story for anybody, young or old, who cares to read it
Physical Description: xi, 259 p. : ill. (some col.), port. ; 21 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Wiggin, Kate Douglas Smith, 1856-1923
Coll, W. L ( Engraver )
Thomson, J
Gay and Bird ( Publisher )
T. and A. Constable ( Printer )
Edinburgh University Press ( Printer )
Publisher: Gay and Bird
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: T. and A. Constable ; Edinburgh University Press
Publication Date: 1895
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Orphans -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Poverty -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Dogs -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Quests (Expeditions) -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Kindness -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Single women -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1895   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1895
Genre: Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
Statement of Responsibility: by Kate Douglas Wiggin ; with illustrations by Oliver Herford.
General Note: Title page printed in red and black ; frontispiece engraved in sepia by W. L. Colls from a photograph by J. Thomson.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements precedes text.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00083172
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002239724
notis - ALJ0258
oclc - 08681661

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Half Title
        Page i
        Page ii
        Page iii
    Title Page
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Table of Contents
        Page ix
        Page x
        Page xi
        Page xii
    Timothy's quest
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Scene 1: Flossy Morrison learns the secret of death without ever having learned the secret of life
            Page 3
            Page 4
            Page 5
            Page 6
            Page 7
            Page 8
            Page 9
            Page 10
            Page 11
            Page 12
            Page 13
            Page 14
            Page 15
            Page 16
        Scene 2: Little Timothy Jessup assumes parental responsibilities
            Page 17
            Page 18
            Page 19
            Page 20
            Page 21
            Page 22
            Page 23
            Page 24
            Page 25
            Page 26
            Page 27
            Page 28
        Scene 3: Timothy plans a campaign, and providence assists materially in carrying it out, or vice versa
            Page 29
            Page 30
            Page 31
            Page 32
            Page 33
            Page 34
            Page 35
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            Page 38
            Page 39
            Page 40
            Page 41
            Page 42
            Page 43
            Page 44
            Page 45
            Page 46
        Scene 4: Jabe Slocum assumes the role of guardian angel
            Page 47
            Page 48
            Page 49
            Page 50
            Page 51
            Page 52
            Page 53
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            Page 58
            Page 59
            Page 60
            Page 61
            Page 62
        Scene 5: Timothy finds a house in which he thinks a baby is needed, but the inmates do not entirely agree with him
            Page 63
            Page 64
            Page 65
            Page 66
            Page 67
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            Page 76
            Page 77
            Page 78
        Scene 6: Timothy, Lady Gay, and Rags prove faithful to each other
            Page 79
            Page 80
            Page 81
            Page 82
            Page 83
            Page 84
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            Page 86
            Page 87
            Page 88
            Page 89
            Page 90
            Page 91
            Page 92
        Scene 7: Mistress and maid find to their amazement that a child, more than all other gifts, brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts
            Page 93
            Page 94
            Page 95
            Page 96
            Page 97
            Page 98
            Page 99
            Page 100
            Page 101
            Page 102
            Page 103
            Page 104
            Page 105
            Page 106
            Page 107
            Page 108
        Scene 8: Jabe and Samantha exchange hostilities, and the former says a good word for the little wanderers
            Page 109
            Page 110
            Page 111
            Page 112
            Page 113
            Page 114
            Page 115
            Page 116
            Page 117
            Page 118
            Page 119
            Page 120
            Page 121
            Page 122
            Page 123
            Page 124
            Page 125
            Page 126
        Scene 9: Now the end of the commandment is charity, out of a pure heart
            Page 127
            Page 128
            Page 129
            Page 130
            Page 131
            Page 132
            Page 133
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            Page 138
            Page 139
            Page 140
            Page 141
            Page 142
        Scene 10: Aunt Hitty comes to 'make over,' and supplies back numbers to all the village histories
            Page 143
            Page 144
            Page 145
            Page 146
            Page 147
            Page 148
            Page 149
            Page 150
            Page 151
            Page 152
            Page 153
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            Page 155
            Page 156
            Page 157
            Page 158
            Page 159
            Page 160
        Scene 11: Miss Vilda decides that two is one too many, and Timothy breaks a humming-bird's egg
            Page 161
            Page 162
            Page 163
            Page 164
            Page 165
            Page 166
            Page 167
            Page 168
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            Page 174
            Page 175
            Page 176
            Page 177
            Page 178
            Page 179
            Page 180
        Scene 12: Lyddy Pettigrove's funeral
            Page 181
            Page 182
            Page 183
            Page 184
            Page 185
            Page 186
            Page 187
            Page 188
            Page 189
            Page 190
            Page 191
            Page 192
        Scene 13: Pleasant River is baptized with the spirit of adoption
            Page 193
            Page 194
            Page 195
            Page 196
            Page 197
            Page 198
            Page 199
            Page 200
            Page 201
            Page 202
            Page 203
            Page 204
            Page 205
            Page 206
            Page 207
            Page 208
            Page 209
            Page 210
        Scene 14: Timothy Jessup runs away a second time, and, like other blessings, brightens as he takes his flight
            Page 211
            Page 212
            Page 213
            Page 214
            Page 215
            Page 216
            Page 217
            Page 218
            Page 219
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            Page 221
            Page 222
            Page 223
            Page 224
            Page 225
            Page 226
            Page 227
            Page 228
        Scene 15: Like all dogs in fiction, the faithful Rags guides Miss Vilda to his little master
            Page 229
            Page 230
            Page 231
            Page 232
            Page 233
            Page 234
            Page 235
            Page 236
            Page 237
            Page 238
            Page 239
            Page 240
            Page 241
            Page 242
        Scene 16: Timothy's quest is ended, and Samantha says, 'Come along, Dave!'
            Page 243
            Page 244
            Page 245
            Page 246
            Page 247
            Page 248
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    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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Mrs. Wiggin's Works

Timothy's Quest. Eleventh Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s.6d.
Punch.-'The book is an almost perfect idyll. It is the
best thing of the kind that has reached us from America
since "Little Lord Fauntleroy" crossed the Atlantic.'
Queen.-' It is surely "David Copperfield" over again.'
Dundee Advertiser.-' A sweeter and more charmingly
written story of its kind it would be impossible to imagine.'
A Cathedral Courtship, and Penelope's English Ex-
periences. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, Illustrated, 3s. 6d.
Punch.-'There is only one word that will fittingly describe
"A Cathedral Courtship." It is delightful.'
Daily News.-' Both stories are idylls From the first to
the last the volume is full of life, humour and colour.'
Athenaeum.-'A pleasing, bright little volume. Hum-
our, vivacity, and freshness written on almost every page.'
Polly Oliver's Problem. A Story for Girls. Second
Edition. Imperial 16mo, Illustrated, 5s.
Spectator.-'This is an excellent story for girls-really good
sense combined with really good fun.'
School Board Chronicle.-'A gem amongst stories for girls.
t is with real regret when the end of the story is
Scottish Leader.-' No page will be skipped; surely Louisa
Alcott has at last found a successor.'
Children's Rights. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, 5s.
Athenmeum.-' We strongly recommend this volume to parents
and to all who have to do with the bringing up of children.
The Bird's Christmas Carol. Imperial i6mo, Illus-
trated, Is. 6d.
The Story of Patsy. Imperial 16mo, Illustrated, Is. 6d.
The Story Hour. A book for the Home and the
Kindergarten. Crown 8vo, Illustrated, 3s. 6d.
A Summer in a Canon : A Californian Story. Crown
8vo, Illustrated, 5s.




Timothy's Quest
A Story for Anybody, Young or Old
,Who Cares to Read It
SBy Kate Douglas Wiggin
With Illustrations by
Oliver Herford

Gay and Bird
5 Chandos Street, Strand

All Riglts Reserved

" P------'


~~? L` -


~C~2neo re~


THAT this simple story should have reached
its twentieth thousand in America is a fact
sufficiently gratifying to its author ; but that
it should have met with so quick a response
from the English public is additional ground
for satisfaction. If the child Timothy has
won a welcome so far from home, it is,
surely, because in the sweet and common
humanities of life there is no nationality;
and the imperishable child in all of us
makes strangers kin wherever they may
meet, even if it be only between the covers
of a book.

September, 1892.

OF LIFE .. 3



ANGEL .. 47





























Flossy Morrison learns the Secret of Death without
ever having learned the Secret of Life



face, 0 Goddess of Wisdom,
for never surely was thy fair
name so ill bestowed as when
it was applied to this most dreary
It was a little less than street, a
little more than alley, and its only
possible claim to decency came from
comparison with the busier thorough-
fare out of which it opened. This was so
much fouler, with its dirt and noise, its
stands of refuse fruit and vegetables, its
dingy shops and all the miserable traffic
that the place engendered, its rickety door-
ways blocked with lounging men, its Blows-
abellas leaning on the window-sills, that the
Court seemed by contrast a most desirable
and retired place of residence.
But it was a dismal spot, nevertheless,
with not even an air of faded gentility to
recommend it. It seemed to have no better

days behind it, nor to hold within itself the
possibility of any future improvement. It
was narrow, and extended only the length
of a city block, yet it was by no means
wanting in many of the luxuries which mark
this era of modern civilisation. At each
corner there were groceries, with commo-
dious sample-rooms attached, and a small
saloon, called The Dearest Spot' (which it
undoubtedly was in more senses than one),
in the basement of a house at the farther
end. It was necessary, however, for the
bibulous native who dwelt in the middle of
the block to waste some valuable minutes in
dragging himself to one of these fountains
of bliss at either end; but at the time my
story opens, a wide-awake philanthropist was
fitting up a neat and attractive little bar-
room, called 'The Oasis,' at a point equally
distant between the other two springs of
human joy.
This benefactor of humanity had a vault-
ing ambition. He desired to slake the thirst
of every man in Christendom; but as this
was impossible from the very nature of
things, he determined to settle in some

arid spot like Minerva Court, and irrigate
it so sweetly and copiously that all men's
noses would blossom as the roses. To
supply his brothers' wants, and create new
ones at the same time, was his purpose in
establishing this Oasis in the Desert of
Minerva Court; and it might as well be
stated here that he was prospered in his
undertaking, as any man is sure to be who
cherishes lofty ideals and attends to his
business industriously.
The Minerva Courtier thus had good
reason to hope that the supply of liquid
refreshment would bear some relation to the
demand, and that the march of modern
progress would continue to diminish the
distance between his own mouth and that
of the bottle, which, as he took it, was the
be-all and end-all of existence.
At present, however, as the Oasis was not
open to the public, children carrying pitchers
of beer were often to be seen hurrying to
and fro on their miserable errands. There
were very few children in Minerva Court,
thank God !-they were not popular there.
There were frowzy, sleepy-looking women

hanging out of their windows, gossiping with
their equally unkempt and haggard neigh-
bours ; apathetic men sitting on the doorsteps,
in their shirt-sleeves, smoking; a dull, dirty
baby or two sporting itself in the gutter;
while the sound of a melancholy accordion
floated from an upper chamber, and added
its discordant mite to the general desolation.
The sidewalks had apparently never known
the touch of a broom, and the middle of the
street looked more like an elongated junk-
heap than anything else. Every evil smell
known to the nostrils of man was abroad in
the air, and several were floating about wait-
ing modestly to be classified, after which they
intended to come to the front and outdo the
others if they could.
That was Minerva Court! A little piece
of your world, my world, God's world (and
the Devil's), lying peacefully fallow, await-
ing the services of some inspired Home
Missionary Society.
In a front room of Number Three, a
dilapidated house next the corner, there lay
a still, white shape, with two women watch-
ing by it.

A sheet covered it. Candles burned at
the head, striving to throw a gleam of light
on a dead face that for many a year had
never been illuminated from within by the
brightness of self-forgetting love or kindly
sympathy. If you
had raised the sheet,
you would have seen
no happy smile as of
a half-remembered,
innocent childhood; ''
the smile is it of V
peaceful memory '
or serene anticipa-
tion ? that some- \ -
times shines on the
faces of the dead.'
Such life-secrets i I
as were exposed by -
Death and written
on that still coun- Innocent Childhood.
tenance in charac-
ters that all might read, were painful ones.
Flossy Morrison was dead. The name
'Flossy' was a relic of what she termed
her better days (Heaven save the mark !),

for she had been called Mrs. Morrison of
late years-' Mrs. F. Morrison,' who took
' children to board, and no questions asked '
-nor answered. She had lived forty-five
years, as men reckon summers and winters ;
but she had never learned, in all that time,
to know her Mother, Nature, her Father,
God, nor her brothers and sisters, the chil-
dren of the world. She had lived friendless
and unfriendly, keeping none of the ten
commandments, nor yet the eleventh, which
is the greatest of all; and now there was
no human being to slip a flower into the still
hand, to kiss the clay-cold lips at the remem-
brance of some sweet word that had fallen
from them, or drop a tear and say, I loved
Apparently, the two watchers did not re-
gard Flossy Morrison even in the light of
'the dear remains,' as they are sometimes
called at country funerals. They were in
the best of spirits (there was an abundance
of beer), and their gruesome task would be
over in a few hours, for it was nearly four
o'clock in the morning, and the body was to
be taken away at ten.

'I tell you one thing, Ettie, Flossy hasn't
left any bother for her friends,' remarked
Mrs. Nancy Simmons, settling herself back
in her rocking-chair. 'As she didn't own
anything but the clothes on her back, there
won't be any quarrelling over the property !'
and she chuckled at her delicate humour.
'No,' answered her companion, who, what-
ever her sponsors in baptism had christened
her, called herself Ethel Montmorency.
'I s'pose the furniture, poor as it is, will
pay the funeral expenses, and if she's got
any debts, why, folks will have to whistle
for their money, that's all.'
'The only thing that worries me is the
children,' said Mrs. Simmons.
'You must be hard up for something to
worry about, to take those young ones on
your mind. They ain't yours nor mine, and
what's more, nobody knows who they do
belong to, and nobody cares ; soon as break-
fast's over we'll pack 'em off to some insti-
tution or other, and that'll be the end of it.
What did Flossy say about 'em, when you
spoke to her yesterday ?'
I asked her what she wanted done with

the young ones, and she said, 'Do what you
like with 'em, drat 'em-it don't make no
odds to me!' and then she turned over and
died. Those was the last words she spoke,
dear soul ; but, Lor', she wasn't more 'n half
sober, and hadn't been for a week.'
'She was sober enough to keep her own
counsel, I can tell you that,' said the gentle
Ethel. 'I don't believe there's a living soul
that knows where those children came from;
-not that anybody cares, now that there
ain't any money in 'em.'
'Well, as for that, I only know that when
Flossy was seeing better days and lived in
the upper part of the city, she used to have
money come every month for taking care of
the boy. Where it come from I don't know;
but I kind of surmise it was a long distance
off. Then she took to drinking, and got
lower and lower down until she came here,
six months ago. I don't suppose the boy's
folks, or whoever it was sent the money,
knew the way she was living, though they
couldn't have cared much, for they never
came to see how things were; he was in an
asylum before Flossy took him, I found that

out; but, anyhow, the money stopped com-
ing more than three months ago. Flossy
wrote twice to the folks, whoever they were,
but didn't get no answer to her letters ; and
she told me that she should
turn the boy out in a week or l!-
two if some cash didn't turn
up in that time; she 'ouldn't
have kept him so long as this A'. .
if he hadn't been so handy
taking care of the baby.' I
'Well, who does the baby
belong to?' /
'You ask me too much,' re- .
plied Nancy, taking another :''
deep draught from the pitcher. 'So handy.'
-' Help yourself, Ettie, there's plenty more
where that came from.-Flossy never liked
the boy, and always wanted to get rid of
him, but couldn't afford to. He's a dreadful
queer, old-fashioned little kid, and so smart
that he's getting' to be a regular nuisance
round the house. But you see he and the
baby-Gabrielle's her name, though they
call her Lady Gay, or some such trash, after
that actress that comes here so much-well,

they are so in love with one another that
wild horses couldn't drag 'em apart; and
I think Flossy had a kind of a likin' for
Gay, as much as she ever had for anything.
I guess she never abused either of 'em; she
was too careless for that. And so-what
was I talking' about?-Oh, yes,-I don't
know who the baby is, nor who paid for
her keep, but she's goin' to be one o' your
high-steppers, and no mistake. She might
be Queen Victory's daughter by the airs she
puts on; I'd like to keep her myself if she
was a little older, and I wasn't goin' away
from here.'
'I s'pose they'll make an awful row at
being separated, won't they?' asked the
younger woman.
'Oh, like as not; but they'll have to have
their row and get over it,' said Mrs. Simmons
easily. 'You can take Timothy to the
Orphan Asylum first, and then come back,
and I '11 carry the baby to the Home of the
Ladies' Relief and Protection Society; and
if they yell they can yell, and take it out
in yellin'; they won't get the best of Nancy

'Don't talk so loud, Nancy, for mercy's
sake; if the boy hears you, he'll begin to
take on, and we shan't get a wink of sleep.
Don't let 'em know what you're goin' to do
with 'em till the last minute, or you '11 have
trouble as sure as we sit here.'
'Oh, they are sound asleep,' responded
Mrs. Simmons, with an uneasy look at the
half-open door. 'I went in and dragged a
pillow out from under Timothy's head, and
he never budged. He was sleeping' like a
log, and so was Gay. Now, shut up, Et,
and let me get three winks myself. You
take the lounge, and I'11 stretch out in two
chairs. Wake me up at eight o'clock, if I
don't wake myself; for I am clean tired out
with all this fussin' and planning and I feel
stupid enough to sleep till kingdom come.'



Little Timothy Jessuf assumes Parental


HEN the snores of the two
watchers fell on the stillness
o f the death-chamber, with
S that cheerful regularity that be-
1i tokens the sleep of the truly good,
Sa little figure crept out of the bed
S in the adjoining room, and closing
Sthe door noiselessly, but with trem-
Sbling fingers, stole to the window
to look out at the dirty street
and the grey sky, over which the first faint
streaks of dawn were beginning to creep.
It was Little Timothy Jessup (God alone
knows whether he had any right to that
special patronymic), but not the very same
Tim Jessup who had kissed the baby Gay in
her crib, and gone to sleep on his own hard
bed in that room, a few hours before. As
he stood shivering at the window, one thin
hand haid pressed upon his heart to still its
beating, there was a light of sudden resolve
in his eyes, a new-born look of anxiety on
his unchildlike face.

'I will not have Gay protectioned and
reliefed, and I will not be taken away from
her and sent to a 'sylum, where I can never
find her again!' and with these defiant
words trembling, half spoken, on his lips, he
glanced from the unconscious form in the
crib to the terrible door, which might open
at any moment and divide him from his
heart's delight, his darling, his treasure, his
only joy, his own, own baby Gay.
What should he do? Run away; that
was the only solution of the matter, and no
very difficult one either. The cruel women
were asleep; the awful Thing that had been
Flossy would never speak again; and no
one else in Minerva Court cared enough for
them to pursue them very far or very long.
'And so,' thought Timothy swiftly, 'I
will get things ready, take Gay, and steal
softly out of the back door, and run away to
the "truly" country, where none of'these bad
people ever can find us, and where I can get
a mother for Gay; somebody to 'dopt her
and love her till I grow up a man and take
her to live with me.'
The moment this thought darted into

Timothy's mind, it began to shape itself in
definite action.
Gabrielle, or Lady Gay, as Flossy called
her, in honour of her favourite stage heroine,
had been tumbled into her crib half dressed
the night before. The only vehicle kept for
her use in the family stables was a clothes-
basket, mounted on four wooden wheels and
cushioned with a dingy
shawl. A yard of clothes-
line was tied on to one
end, and in this humble
conveyance the Princess I
would have to be trans- i l
ported from the Ogre's
castle, for she was scarcely l
old enough to accompany
the Prince on foot, even
if he had dared to risk .
detection by waking her:
so the clothes-basket must 'A shabby suit of clothes.
be her chariot, and Timothy her charioteer,
as on many a less fateful expedition.
After he had changed his ragged night-
gown for a shabby suit of clothes, he took
Gay's one clean apron out of a rickety bureau


drawer ('for I can never find a mother
for her if she's too dirty," he thought),
her Sunday hat from the same receptacle,
and last of all a comb, and a faded Japanese
parasol that stood in a corner. These he
deposited under the old shawl that decorated
the floor of the chariot. He next groped
his way in the dim light toward a mantel-
shelf, and took down a savings-bank-a
florid little structure with 'Bank of Eng-
land' stamped over the miniature door, into
which the jovial gentleman who frequented
the house often slipped pieces of silver for
the children, and into which Flossy dipped
only when she was in a state of temporary
financial embarrassment. Timothy did not
dare to jingle it; he could only hope that as
Flossy had not been in her usual health
of late (though in more than her usual
'spirits'), she had not felt obliged to break
the bank.
Now for provisions. There were plenty
of'funeral baked meats' in the kitchen; so
he hastily gathered a dozen cookies into a
towel and stowed them in the coach with
the other sinews of war.

So far, well and good; but the worst was
to come. With his heart beating in his
bosom like a trip-hammer, and his eyes
dilated with fear, he stepped to the door
between the two rooms, and opened it softly.
Two thundering snores, pitched in such dif-
ferent keys that they must have proceeded
from two separate sets of nasal organs, re-
assured the boy. He looked out into the
alley. Not a creature was stirring, not even
a mouse.' The Minerva Courtiers could not
be owls as well as hawks, and there was
not even the ghost of a sound to be heard.
Satisfied that all was well, Timothy went
back to the bedroom, and lifted the battered
clothes-basket, trucks and all, in his slender
arms,, carried it up the alley and down the
street a little distance, and deposited it on
the pavement beside a vacant plot of ground.
This done, he sped back to the house.
'How beautifully they snore!' he thought,
as he stood again on the threshold. Shall I
leave 'em a letter? P'raps I better .
and then they won't follow us and bring us
back.' So he scribbled a line on a bit of torn
paper bag, and pinned it on the enemies' door.

'A kind Lady is goin' to Adopt us
it is a Grate ways off so do not Hunt
good by. TIM.'

Now all was ready. No; one thing more.
Timothy had been met in the street by a
pretty young girl a few weeks before. The
love of God was smiling in her heart, the
love of children shining in her eyes; and
she led him, a willing captive, into a mis-
sion Sunday-school near by. So much in
earnest was the sweet little teacher, and so
hungry for any sort of good tidings was
the starved little pupil, that Timothy 'got
religion' then and there, as simply and
naturally as a child takes its mother's milk.
He was probably in a state of crass igno-
rance regarding the Thirty-nine Articles; but
it was the engraftedd word,' of which the
Bible speaks, that had blossomed in Tim-
othy's heart; the living seed had always been
there, waiting for some beneficent fostering
influence; for he was what dear Charles
Lamb would have called a natural 'king-
dom-of-heavenite.' Thinking, therefore, of

Miss Dora's injunction to pray over all the
extraordinary affairs of life and as many
of the ordinary ones as possible, he hung
his tattered straw hat on the bed-post, and
knelt beside Gay's crib with this whispered
'Our Father who art in heaven, please
help me to find a mother for Gay, the kind
that she can call Mamma, and another one for
me, if there's enough, but not unless. Please
excuse me for taking away the clothes-basket,
which does not exactly belong to us; but if I
do not take it, dear heavenly Father, how will
Iget Gay to the railroad? And
if I don't take the Japanese um-
brella she will get freckled and
nobody will adopt her on account
of her red hair. No more at
present, as I am in a great hurry. _
Am en.'
He put on his hat, stooped
over the sleeping baby, and took
her in his faithful arms-arms
that had never failed her yet. (
She half opened her eyes, and '
Safe on Timothy's
seeing that she was safe on Shoulder

her beloved Timothy's shoulder, clasped her
dimpled arms tight about his neck, and with
a long sigh drifted off again into the land
of dreams. Bending beneath her weight, he
stepped for the last time across the threshold,
not even daring to close the door behind him.
Up the alley and round the corner he
sped, as fast as his trembling legs could
carry him. Just as he was within sight of
the goal of his ambition, that is, the chariot
aforesaid, he fancied he heard the sound of
hurrying feet behind him. To his fevered
imagination the tread was like that of an
avenging army on the track of the foe. He
did not dare to look behind. On !- for the
clothes-basket and liberty! He would re-
linquish the Japanese umbrella, the cookies,
the comb, and the apron-all the booty, in
fact-as an inducement for the enemy to
retreat, but he would never give up the
On the feet hurried, faster and faster. He
stooped to put Gay in the basket, and turned
in despair to meet his pursuers, when a little,
grimy, rough-coated, lop-eared, split-tailed
thing, like an animated rag-bag, leaped upon

his knees; whimpering with joy, and im-
ploring, with every grace that his simple
doggish heart could suggest, to be one of
the eloping party.
Rags had followed them !
Timothy was so glad to find it no worse
that he wasted a moment in embracing the
dog, whose delirious joy at the prospect of
this probably dinnerless and supperless ex-
pedition was ludicrously exaggerated. Then
he took up the rope and trundled the chariot
gently down a side street leading to the
Everything worked to a charm. They
met only an occasional milk (and water)
man, starting on his matutinal rounds, for it
was now -after four o'clock, and one or two
cavaliers of uncertain gait, just returning to
their homes, several hours too late for their
own good; but these gentlemen were in no
condition of mind to be over-interested, and
the little fugitives were troubled with no
questions as to their intentions.
Thus they went out into the world to-
gether, these three : Timothy Jessup (if it
was Jessup), brave little knight, nameless

nobleman, tracing his descent back to God,
the Father of us all, and bearing the Divine
likeness more than most of us; the little
Lady Gay,-somebody-nobody-anybody,
-from nobody knows where,-destination
equally uncertain; and Rags, of pedigree
most doubtful, scutcheon quite obscured by
blots, but a perfect gentleman, true-hearted
-and loyal to the core-in fact, an angel in
fur. These three, with the clothes-basket as
personal property and a toy Bank of England
as security, went out to seek their fortune;
and, unlike Lot's wife, without daring to look
behind, shook the dust of Minerva Court
from off their feet forever and forever.




Timothy plans a Campaignt, and Providence assists
materially in carrying it out, or vice versd

--- ------ .-- -

-- Y dint of skilful
S" generalship, Tim-
othy gathered his
-forces on a green
-" bank just behind the railway
Sdep6t, cleared away a sufficient number
' of tin cans and oyster-shells to make a flat
space for the chariot of war, which had now
become simply a cradle, and sat down, with
Rags curled up at his feet, to plan the cam-
He pushed back the ragged hat from his
waving hair, and, clasping his knees with his
hands, gazed thoughtfully at the towering
chimneys in the foreground and the white-
winged ships in the distant harbour. There
was a glimpse of something like a man's pur-
pose in the sober eyes; and as the morning

sunlight fell upon his earnest face, the angel
in him came to the surface, and crowded the
'boy part' quite out of sight, as it has a way
of doing sometimes with children.
How some father heart would have
throbbed with pride to own him, and how
gladly lifted the too heavy burden from his
childish shoulders!
Timothy Jessup, aged ten or eleven, or
thereabouts-the records had not been kept

Timothy surveying the Situation.

with absolute exactness-Timothy Jessup,
somewhat ragged, all forlorn, and none too
clean at the present moment, was a poet,
philosopher, and lover of the beautiful. The
dwellers in Minerva Court had never discov-
ered the fact; for, although he had lived in
that world, he had most emphatically never

been of it. He was a boy of strange notions,
and the vocabulary in which he expressed
them was stranger still; furthermore, he had
gentle manners, which must have been indi-
genous, as they had certainly never been
cultivated; and, although he had been in the
way of handling pitch for many a day, it had
been powerless to defile him, such was the
essential purity of his nature.
To find a home and a mother for Lady
Gay had been Timothy's secret longing ever
since he had heard people say that Flossy
Morrison might die. He had once enjoyed
all the comforts of a home with a capital H ;
but it was the cosy one with the little 'h'
that he so much desired for her.
Not that he had any ill treatment to re-
member in the excellent institution of which
he was for several years an inmate. The
matron was an amiable and hard-working
woman, who wished to do her duty to all the
children under her care; but it would be an
inspired human being indeed who could give
a hundred and fifty motherless or fatherless
children all the education and care and train-
ing they needed, to say nothing of the love

that they missed and craved. What wonder,
then, that an occasional hungry little soul
starved for want of something not provided
by the management; say, a morning cuddle
in mother's bed or a ride on father's knee-
in short, the sweet daily jumble of lap-
trotting, gentle caressing, endearing words,
twilight stories, motherly tucks-in-bed, good-
night kisses-all the dear, simple, every-
day accompaniments of the home with the
little 'h.'
Timothy Jessup, bred in such an atmo-
sphere, would have gladdened every life that
touched his at any point. Plenty of wistful
men and women would have thanked God
nightly on their knees for the gift of such a
son; and here he was, sitting on a tin can,
bowed down with family cares, while thou-
sands of graceless little scalawags were slap-
ping the faces of their French nurse-maids
and bullying their parents, in that very city.
-Ah me!
As for the tiny Lady Gay, she had all the
winsome virtues to recommend her. No one
ever feared that she would die young out of
sheer goodness. You would not have loved

her so much for what she was as because
you could not help yourself. This feat once
accomplished, she blossomed into a thousand
graces, each one more bewitching than the
last you noted.
Where, in the name of all the sacred laws
of heredity, did the child get her sunshiny
nature? Born in misery, and probably in
sin, nurtured in wretchedness and poverty,
she had brought her 'radiant morning
visions' with her into the world. Like
Wordsworth's immortal babe, 'with trailing
clouds of glory' had she come, from God
who was her home; and the heaven that lies
about us all in our infancy-that Garden
of Eden into which we are all born, like
the first man and the first woman-that
heaven lay about her still, stronger than the
touch of earth.
What if the room were desolate and bare ?
The yellow sunbeams stole through the nar-
row window, and in the shaft of light they
threw across the dirty floor Gay played-
oblivious of everything save the flickering
golden rays that surrounded her.
The raindrops chasing each other down

the dingy pane, the snowflakes melting softly
on the casement, the brown leaf that the
wind blew into her lap as she sat on the
side-walk, the chirp of the little beggar-
sparrows over the cobblestones, all these
brought as eager a light into her baby eyes
as the costliest toy. With no earthly father
or mother to care for her, she seemed to
be God's very own baby, and He amused
her in His own good way; first by locking
her happiness within her own soul (the
only place where it is ever safe for a single
moment), and then by putting her under
Timothy's paternal ministrations.
Timothy's mind travelled back over the
past, as he sat among the tin cans and looked
at Rags and Gay. It was a very small story,
if he ever found any one who would care
to hear it. There was a long journey in a
great ship, a wearisome illness of many
weeks-or was it months?-when his curls
had been cut off, and all his memories with
them; then there was the Home; then
there was Flossy, who came to take him
away; then-oh, bright, bright spot! oh,
blessed time!-there was baby Gay; then,

worse than all, there was Minerva Court.
But he did not give many minutes to reminis-
cence. He first broke open the Bank of
England, and threw it away, after finding
to his joy that their fortune amounted to
one dollar and eighty-five cents. This was
so much in advance of his expectations that
he laughed aloud, and Rags, wagging his tail
with such vigour that he nearly broke it in
two, jumped into the cradle and woke the
Then there was a happy family circle, you
may believe me, and with good reason, too !
A trip to the country (meals and lodging
uncertain, but that was a trifle), a sight of
green meadows, where Timothy would hear
real birds sing in the trees, and Gay would
gather wild-flowers, and Rags would chase,
and perhaps-who knows?-catch, tooth-
some squirrels and fat little field-mice, of
which the country dogs visiting Minerva
Court had told the most mouth-watering
tales. Gay's transport knew no bounds.
Her child-heart felt no regret for the past,
no care for the present, no anxiety for the
future. The only world she cared for was

in her sight; and she had never, in her brief
experience, gazed upon it with more radiant
anticipation than on this sunny June morn-
ing, when she had opened her bright eyes
on a pleasant, odorous bank of oyster-shells,
instead of on the accustomed surroundings
of Minerva Court.
Breakfast was first in order.
There was a pump conveniently near, and
the oyster-shells made capital cups. Gay
had three cookies, Timothy two, and Rags
one; but there was no statute of limitations
placed on the water; every one had as much
as he could drink.
The little matter of toilets came next.
Timothy took the dingy rag which did duty
for a handkerchief, and, calling the pump
again into requisition, scrubbed Gay's face
and hands tenderly, but firmly. Her clothes
were then all smoothed down tidily, but
the clean apron was kept for the eventful
moment when her future mother should first
be allowed to behold the form of her adopted
The comb was then brought out, and her
mop of red-gold hair was assisted to fall in -

wet spirals all over her lovely head. Her
Sunday hat being tied on, as the crowning
glory, this lucky little princess, this child of
Fortune, so inestimably rich in her own
opinion, this daughter of the gods, I say,
was returned to the basket, where she en-
deavoured to keep quiet until the next
piece of delightful unexpectedness should
rise from fairyland upon her excited gaze.
Timothy and Rags now went to the pump,
and Rags was held under the spout. This
was a new and bitter experience, and he
wished for a few brief moments that he had
never joined the noble army of deserters,
but had stayed where dirt was fashionable.
Being released, the sense of abnormal clean-
liness mounted to his brain, and he tore
breathlessly round in a circle seventy-seven
times without stopping. This only dried his
hair and amused Gay, who was beginning
to find the basket confining, and who
clamoured for 'Timfy' to take her to 'yide.'
Timothy attended to himself last, as usual.
He put his own head under the pump,
and scrubbed his face and hands heartily;
wiping them on his-well, he wiped them,

and that is the main thing; besides, his
handkerchief had been reduced to a pulp in
Gay's service. He combed his hair, pulled
up his stockings and tied his shoes neatly,
buttoned his jacket closely over his shirt,
and was just pinning up the rent in his hat,
when Rags considerately brought another
suggestion in the shape of an old chicken-
wing, with which he brushed every speck of
dust from his clothes. This done, and being
no respecter of persons, he took the family
comb to Rags, who woke the echoes during
the operation, and hoped to the Lord that
the squirrels would run slowly and that the
field-mice would be very tender, to pay him
for this.
It was now nearly eight o'clock, and the
party descended the hillside and entered the
side door of the station.
The day's work had long since begun,
and there was the usual din and uproar of
railroad traffic. Trucks, laden high with
boxes and barrels, were being driven to the
wide doors. The porters were thundering
and thumping and lurching the freight from
one set of cars into another; their primary

objects being to make a racket and demolish
raw material, thereby increasing manufac-
ture and export, but incidentally to load or
unload as much freight as possible in a
given time.
Timothy entered, trundling his carriage,
where Lady Gay sat enthroned like a Murray
Hill belle on a dog-cart, conscious pride of
Sunday hat on week-day morning exuding
from every feature; and Rags followed close
behind, clean, but with a crushed spirit,
which he could stimulate only by the most
seductive imaginations. No one molested
them, for Timothy was very careful not to
get in any one's way. Finally, he drew up
in front of a high blackboard, on which the
names of various way-stations were printed
in gold letters.





fLAS0 lf~

'The names get nicer
and nicer as you read down
the line, and the furtherest
one of all is the very pret-
tiest, so I guess we'll go
there,' thought Timothy,
not realising that his choice
was based on most insecure
foundations; and that, for
aught he knew, the milk of
human kindness
might have more
cream on it at
Scratch Corner
ft A than at Pleasant

SI guess we '11 go there.'
River, though the latter name was certainly
more attractive.
Gay approved of Pleasant River, and so

did Rags; and Timothy moved off down
the station to a place on the open platform
where a train of cars stood ready for start-
ing, the engine at the head gasping and
puffing and breathing as hard as if it had
an acute attack of asthma.
How much does it cost to go to Pleasant
River, please?' asked Tim bravely of a
kind-looking man in a blue coat and brass
buttons, who stood by the cars.
'This is a freight train, sonny,' replied
the man ; 'takes four hours to get there.
Better wait till ten forty-five; buy your
ticket up in the station.'
'Ten forty-five!' Tim saw visions of
Mrs. Simmons speeding down upon him in
hot pursuit, kindled -by Gay's disappearance
into a tardy appreciation of her charms.
The tears stood in his eyes as Gay clam-
bered out of the basket and danced with
impatience, exclaiming, 'Gay wants to yide
now yide now! yide now!'
'Did you want to go sooner?' asked the
man, who seemed to be entirely too much
interested in humanity to succeed in the rail-
road business. 'Well, as you seem to have

considerable of a family on your hands, I
guess we 'll take you along. Jim, unlock
that car and let these children in, and then
lock it up again. It's a car we're taking up
to the end of the road for repairs, bubby,
so the company '11 give you and your folks
a free ride !'
Timothy thanked the man in his politest
manner, while Gay pressed a piece of moist
cookie in his hand, and offered him one of
her swan's-down kisses, a favour of which she
was usually as chary as if it had possessed
a market value.
'Are you going to take the dog?' asked
the man, as Rags darted up the steps with
sniffs and barks of ecstatic delight. He
ain't so handsome but you can get another
easy enough!' (Rags held his breath in
suspense, and wondered if he had been put
under a roaring cataract, and then ploughed
in deep furrows with a sharp-toothed instru-
ment of torture, only to be left behind at
last !)
'That's just why I take him,' said Tim-
othy; 'because he isn't handsome, and has
nobody else to love him.'

(' Not a very polite reason,' thought Rags;
'but anything to go !')
'Well, jump in, dog and all, and they'll
give you the best free ride to the country
you ever had in your life! Tell 'em it's all
right, Jim'; and the train steamed out of
the dep6t, while the kind man waved his
bandana handkerchief until the children
were out of sight.



Jabe Slocum assumes lhe Rdle of Guardian Angel

been down to Edge-
wood, and was just re-
'..! ~turning to the White Farm
by way of the cross-roads and
Hard Scrabble schoolhouse. He was in no
hurry, although he always had more work
on hand than he could leave undone for a
month; and Maria also was taking her own
time, as usual, even stopping now and then
to crop an unusually sweet tuft of grass that
grew within smelling distance, and which no
mare with a driver like Jabe could afford to
pass without notice.
Jabe was ostensibly out on an 'errant'
for Miss Avilda Cummins; but, as he had
been in her service for six years, she had no

expectations of his accomplishing anything
beyond getting to a place and getting back
in the same day, the distance covered being
no factor at all in the matter.
One need not apply, however, to Miss
Avilda Cummins for a description of Jabe
Slocum's peculiarities. They were all so
written upon his face and figure and speech
that the wayfaring man, though a fool, could
not err in his judgment. He was a long,
loose, knock-kneed, slack-twisted person, and
would have been 'longer yit if he hedn't
hed so much turned up for feet'-so Aunt
Hitty Tarbox said. (Aunt Hitty went from
house to house in Edgewood and Pleasant
River, making over boys' clothes; and as her
tongue flew as fast as her needle, her sharp
speeches were always in circulation in both
Mr. Slocum had sandy hair, high cheek-
bones, a pair of kindly light blue eyes, and
a most unique nose; I hardly know to what
order of architecture this belonged-perhaps
Old Colonial would describe it as well as
anything else. It was a wide, flat, well-
ventilated, hospitable edifice, so peculiarly

constructed and applied that Samantha Ann
Ripley (of whom more anon) declared that
'the reason Jabe Slocum ketched cold so
easy was that, if he didn't hold his head
jess so, it kep' a-rainin' in on him !'
His mouth was simply an enormous slit
in his face, and served all the purposes for
which a mouth is presumably intended, save,
perhaps, the trivial one of decoration. In
short (a ludicrously inappropriate word for
the subject), it was a capital medium for
exits and entrances, but no ornament to his
countenance. When Rhapsena Crabb, now
deceased, was first engaged to Jabez Slocum,
Aunt Hitty Tarbox said it beat her 'how
Rhapseny ever got over Jabe's mouth;
though she could 'a' got intew it easy enough ,
or round it, if she took plenty o' time.'
But perhaps Rhapsena appreciated a mouth
(in a husband) that never was given to
'jawin',' and which uttered only kind words
during her brief span of married life. More-
over, there was precious little leisure for
kissing at Pleasant River.
As Jabe had passed the store, a few
minutes before, one of the boys had called

out, facetiously, 'Say shet yer mouth when
ye go by the deepot, Laigs ; the train's coming'
in!' But he only smiled placidly, though it
was an ancient joke, the flavour of which had
just fully penetrated the rustic skull; and
the villagers could not resist titillating the
sense of humour with it once or twice a
month. Neither did Jabez mind being called
'Laigs,' the local pronunciation of the word
'legs'; in fact, his good humour was too deep
to be ruffled. His 'cistern of wrathfulness
was so small, and the supply pipe so unready,'
that it was next to impossible to put him
out, so the natives said.
He was a man of tolerable education; the
only son of his parents, who had endeavoured
to make great things of him, and might per-
haps have succeeded, if he hadn't always
had so little time at his disposal-' hadn't
been so drove,' as he expressed it. He went
to the village school as regularly as he
could not help, that is, as many days as he
could not contrive to stay away, until he was
fourteen. From there he was sent to the
Academy, three miles distant; but his mother
soon found that he couldn't make the two

trips a day and be 'under cover by candle-
light'; so the plan of a classical education
was abandoned, and he was allowed to speed
the home plough-a profession which he pur-
sued with such moderation that his father,
when starting him down a furrow in the
morning, used to hang his dinner-pail on his
arm, and, bidding him good-bye, beg him,
with tears in his eyes, to be back before
At the present moment Jabe was enjoying
a cud of Old Virginia plug tobacco, and
taking in no more of the landscape than he
could avoid, when Maria, having wound up
to the top of Marm Berry's hill, in spite of
herself walked directly out on one side of the
road, and stopped short to make room for
the passage of an imposing procession, made
up of one clothes-basket on wheels, one baby,
one strange boy, and one strange dog.
Jabe, who loved children, eyed the party
with some placid interest, but with no un-
due excitement. Shifting his huge quid,
he inquired in his usual leisurely manner,
'Which way yer goin', bub-t' the Swamp
or t' the Falls ?'

S Timothy thought neither
-sounded especially inviting,
--. but, rapidly choosing the lesser
.i" -- evil, replied, 'To the Falls,
,XIF.-.-y sir.
'Thy way happens to be
my way, 's Rewth said to
Naomi; so 'f gittin'
over the road's your
objeck, 'n' y' ain't
pertickler 'baout the
gait ye travel, ye
can git in 'n' ride
a piece. We don't .
believe in hurryin', -
Mariar 'n' me.
S' Which way yer goin', bub ?'
Slow 'n' easy goes
fur in a day, 's our motto. Can ye git your
folks aboard without spillin' any of 'em ?'
No wonder he asked, for Gay was in such
a wild state of excitement that she could
hardly be held.
'I can lift Gay up, if you'll please take
her, sir,' said Timothy; 'and if you're quite
sure the horse will stand still.'
Bless your soul, she'll stan' all right;

she'll stan' while you're gittin' in 'n' con-
sid'rable of a spell afterwards; in point o'
fact, she likes stan'in' a heap better'n she
doos going Runnin' away ain't no tempta-
tion to Maria Cummins; let well enough
alone's her motto. Jump in, sissy! There
ye be! Now git yer baby-shay in the back
of the waggon, bubby, 'n' we'll be's snug's
a bug in a rug.'
Timothy, whose creed was simple and
whose beliefs were crystal clear, now felt
that his morning prayer had been heard,
and that the Lord was on his side; there-
fore he abandoned all idea of commanding
the situation, and gave himself up to the full
ecstasy of the ride, as they jogged peacefully
along the river road.
Gay held a piece of a rein that peeped
from Jabe's colossal hand (which was said
by the villagers to cover almost as much
territory as the hand of Providence), and
was convinced that she was driving Maria,
an idea that made her speechless with joy.
Rags' wildest dreams of squirrels came
true; and, reconciled at length to cleanli-
ness, he was capering in and out of the

woods, thinking what an Arabian Nights'
entertainment he would give the Minerva
Court dogs when he returned, if return
he ever must to that miserable, squirrelless
The meadows on the other side of the
river were gorgeous with yellow buttercups,
and here and there a patch of blue iris
or wild sage. The black cherry-trees were
masses of snowy bloom; the water at the
river's edge held spikes of blue arrowweed
in its crystal shallows; while the roadside
itself was gay with daisies and feathery
In the midst of this loveliness flowed
Pleasant River,
'Vexed in all its seaward course by bridges, dams, and
but finding time, during the busy summer
months, to flush its fertile banks with beauty.
Suddenly (a word that could seldom be
truthfully applied to the description of Jabe
Slocum's movement) the reins were ruthlessly
drawn from Lady Gay's hands and wound
about the whipstock.
'Gorry!' ejaculated Mr. Slocum, 'ef I

hain't left the widder Foss setting' on Aunt
Hitty's hoss-block, 'n' I promised to pick her
up when I come along back That all comes
o' my driving' by the store so fast on account
o' the boys hectorin' of me, so 't when I got
to the turn I was so kind of het up I jogged
right along the straight road. Haste makes
waste's an awful good motto. Pile out,
young ones! It's only half a mile from here
to the Falls, 'n' you'll have to get there on
Shank's mare, for certain !'
So saying, he dumped the astonished
children into the middle of the road, from
whence he had plucked them, turned the
docile mare, and with a 'Git, Mariar !' went
four miles back to relieve Aunt Hitty's horse-
block from the weight of the widder Foss
(which was no joke !).
This turn of affairs was most unexpected,
and Gay seemed on the point of tears; but
Timothy gathered her a handful of wild-
flowers, wiped the dust from her face, put
on the clean blue gingham apron, and estab-
lished her in the basket, where she soon
fell asleep, wearied by the excitements of
the day.

Timothy's heart began to be a little
troubled as he walked on and on through
the leafy woods, trundling the basket behind
him. Nothing had gone wrong; indeed,
everything had been much easier than he
could have hoped. Perhaps it was the weari-
ness that had crept into his legs, and the
hollowness that began to appear in his
stomach; but, somehow, although in the
morning he had expected to find Gay's new
adopted mothers beckoning from every win-
dow, so that he could scarcely choose between
them, he now felt as if the whole race of
mothers had suddenly become extinct.
Soon the village came in sight, nestled in
the laps of the green hills on both sides of
the river. Timothy trudged bravely on,
scanning all the dwellings, but finding none
of them just the thing. At last he turned
deliberately off the main road, where the
houses seemed too near together and too
near the street for his taste, and trundled
his family down a shady sort of avenue,
over which the arching elms met and clasped
Rags had by this time lowered his tail

to half-mast, and kept strictly to the beaten
path, notwithstanding manifold temptations
to forsake it. He passed two cats without
a single insulting remark, and his entire
demeanour was eloquent of nostalgia.
'Oh, dear !' sighed Timothy disconso-
lately ; 'there's something wrong with all
the places. Either there's no pigeon-house,
like in all the pictures of the country, or no
flower garden, or no chickens, or no lady
at the window, or else there's lots of baby-
clothes hanging on the wash-lines. I don't
believe I shall ever find -
At this moment a large, comfortable white
house, that had been heretofore hidden by
great trees, came into view. Timothy drew
nearer to the spotless picket fence, and gazed
upon the beauties of the side yard and
the front garden-gazed and gazed, and fell
desperately in love at first sight.
The whole thing had been made as if
to order; that is all there is to say about
it. There was an orchard, and, oh, ecstasy
what hosts of green apples! There was an
alluring grindstone under one tree, and a
bright blue chair and stool under another;

a thicket of currant and gooseberry bushes,
and a flock of young turkeys ambling awk-
wardly through the barn. Timothy stepped
gently along in the thick grass, past a pump
and a mossy trough, till a side porch came
into view, with a woman sitting there sewing
bright-coloured rags. A row of shining tin
pans caught the sun's rays, and threw them
back in a thousand glittering prisms of
light; the grasshoppers and crickets chirped
sleepily in the warm grass, and a score of
tiny yellow butterflies hovered over a group
of odorous hollyhocks.
Suddenly the person on'the porch broke
into a cheerful song, pitched in so high a
key and given with such emphasis that the
crickets and grasshoppers retired by mutual
consent from any further competition, and the
butterflies suspended operations for several
SI'll chase the antelope over the plain,
The tiger's cub I'11 bind with a chain,
And the wild gazelle with the silv'ry feet,
I'll bring to thee for a playmate sweet.'

Timothy listened intently for some mo-
ments, not understanding the words, unless

the lady happened to be in the menagerie
business, which he thought unlikely, but de-
lightful should it prove true.
His eye then fell on a little marble slab
under a tree in a shady corner of the
'That must be a country doorplate,' he
thought; 'yes, it's got the lady's name,


'That must be a country doorplate.'
--. -- -..-

That must be a country doorplate.'

Martha Cummins," printed on it. Now I'll
know what to call her.'
He crept softly on to the front side of the
house. There were flower beds, a lovable
white cat snoozing on the doorsteps, and a
lady sitting at the open window knitting-
in all probability Gay's adopted mother.

At this vision Timothy's heart beat so hard
against his jacket that he could only stagger
back to the basket, where Rags and Lady
Gay were snuggled together fast asleep. He
anxiously scanned Gay's face; moistened his
rag of a handkerchief at the only available
source of supply; scrubbed an atrocious dirt
spot from the tip of her spirited nose ; and
then, dragging the basket along the path
leading to the front gate, he opened it and
went in, mounted the steps, plied the brass
knocker, and waited in childlike faith for a
summons to enter in and make himself at



Timothy finds a House in whick He thinks a Baby is
needed, but the Inmates do not entirely agree
with Him

MEANWHILE, Miss Avilda
Cummins had left her
window and gone into
the next room for a skein
of yarn. She answered the knock,
however; and, opening the door,
stood rooted to the threshold in
speechless astonishment, very much as if
she had seen the shades of her ancestors
drawn up in line in the dooryard.
Off went Timothy's hat. He had not seen
the lady's face very clearly when she was
knitting at the window, or he would never
have dared to knock ; but it was too late to
retreat. Looking straight into her cold eyes
with his own shining grey ones, he said
bravely, but with a trembling voice, 'Please
-do you need any babies here, if you
please ?' (Need any babies What an in-
appropriate, nonsensical expression, to be
sure; as if a baby in a house were something

exquisitely indispensable, like the breath of
life, for instance !)
No answer. Miss Vilda was trying to
assume command of her scattered faculties
and find some clue to the situation. Tim-
othy concluded that she was not, after all,
the lady of the house; and, remembering
the marble doorplate in the orchard, tried
again. 'Does Miss Martha Cummins live
here, if you please?' (O Timothy! what in-
duced you, in this crucial moment of your
life, to touch upon that sorest spot in Miss
Vilda's memory?)
'What do you want?' she faltered.
I want to get somebody to adopt my
baby,' he said; '.if you haven't got any of
your own, you couldn't find one half as dear
and as pretty as she is, and she doesn't
freckle so much in the winter time. You
needn't have me, too, you know, unless you
need me to help take care of her.'
You're very kind,' Miss Avilda answered
sarcastically, preparing to shut the door upon
the strange child; 'but I don't think I care
to adopt any babies this afternoon, thank
you. You'd better run right back home to

your mother, if you've got one, and know
where 't is, anyhow.'
'But I-haven't!' cried poor Timothy,
with a sudden and unpremeditated burst of
tears at the failure of his hopes, for he was
half child as well as half hero. At this junc-
ture Gay opened her eyes and burst into a
wild howl at the unwonted sight of Tim-
othy's grief; while Rags, who was full of ex-
quisite sensibility, and quite ready to weep
with those who did weep, lifted up his woolly
head and added his piteous wails to the con-
cert. It was a tableau vivant.
'Samanthy Ann !' called Miss Vilda ex-
citedly ; 'Samanthy Ann! Come right in
here and tell me what to do!'
The person thus adjured flew in from the
porch, leaving a serpentine trail of red,
yellow, and blue rags in her wake. 'Land
o' liberty!' she exclaimed, as she surveyed
the group. 'Where'd they come from, and
what air they trying' to act out ?'
'This boy's a baby agent, as near as I
can make out ; he wants I should adopt this
red-headed baby, but says I ain't obliged to
take him too, and makes out they haven't

got any home. I told him I want adoption'
any babies just now, and at that he burst
out cryin', and the other two followed suit.
Now, have the three of 'em just escaped
from some asylum, or are they too little to
be lunatics?'
Timothy dried his tears in order that Gay
should be comforted and appear at her
best, and said penitently: 'I cried before I
thought, because Gay hasn't had anything
but cookies to eat since last night, and
she'll have no place to sleep unless you'll
let us stay here just till morning. We
went by all the other houses, and chose
this one because everything was just what
we wanted.'
'Nothin' but cookies sence-Land o' lib-
erty!' ejaculated Samantha Ann, starting
for the kitchen.
'Come back here, Samanthy Don't you
leave me alone with 'em, and don't let's have
all the neighbours running' in. Take 'em into
the kitchen and give 'em something' to eat,.
and we 'll see about the rest afterwards.'
Gay kindled at the first casual mention of
food, and trying to clamber out of the basket,

fell over the edge, thumping her head smartly
on the stone steps. Miss Vilda covered her
face with her hands, and waited shudder-
ingly for another yell, as the child's carna-
tion stockings and terra-cotta head mingled
wildly in the air. But Lady Gay disen-
tangled herself, and laughed the merriest
burst of laughter that ever woke the echoes.
That was a joke; her life was full of them,
served fresh every day, for no sort of ad-
versity could long have power over such
a nature as hers. 'Come get supper,' she
cooed, putting her hand
in Samantha's; adding
that the 'nasty lady
needn't come,' a re-
mark that happily es-
caped detection, as it
was rendered in very
unintelligible 'early
Miss Avilda tottered
into the darkened sit-
ting-room, and sank on In the Kitchen.
to a black-hair-cloth sofa, while Samantha
ushered the wanderers into the sunny kitchen,

muttering to herself: 'Wall, I vow traveling'
over the country all alone, 'n' not knee-high
to a toad They're sending' out awful young
tramps this season, but they shan't go away
from this house hungry, not if I know it.'
Accordingly she set out a plentiful sup-
ply of bread and butter, gingerbread, pie,
and milk, put a tin plate of cold hash in the
shed for Rags, sweeping him out to it with
a corn broom, violently, as is the manner
in that section, and, telling the children
comfortably to cram their 'everlastin' little
bread-baskets full,' returned to the sitting-
'Now, whatever makes you so panicky,
Vildy? Didn't you never see a tramp before,
for pity's sake? And if you're scar't for
fear I can't handle 'em alone, why, Jabe'll
be coming' along soon. The prospeck of git-
tin' to bed's t-he only thing that '11 make him
'n' Maria hurry; 'n' they'll both be cal'latin'
on that by this time!'
'Samanthy Ann, the first question that
that boy asked me was, if Miss Martha
Cummins lived here. Now, what do you
make of that ?'

Samantha looked as astonished as anybody
could wish. 'Asked if Marthy Cummins
lived here ? How under the canopy did he
ever hear Marthy's name? Wall, somebody
told him to ask, that's all there is about it,
and what harm was there in it, anyhow?'
'Oh, I don't know, I don't know; but the
minute that boy looked up at me and asked
for Martha Cummins, the old trouble, that
I thought was dead and buried years ago,
started right up in my heart, and begun to
ache just as if it all happened yesterday.'
'Now keep stiddy, Vildy, what could hap-
pen?' urged Samantha.
'Why, it flashed across my mind in a
minute,' and here Miss Vilda lowered her
voice to a whisper, 'that perhaps Martha's
baby didn't die as they told her.'
'But, land o' liberty, s'posin' it didn't!
Poor Marthy died herself more 'n twenty
years ago.'
'I know; but supposing her baby grew
up before it died, and left one of these
children to roam round the world afoot
and alone.'
'You're cal'latin' dreadful close, 'pears to

me; now, don't go s'posin' any more things.
You're making' out one o' them yellow-
covered books, sech as the summer boarders
bring out here to read; always chock full of
doin's that never would come to pass in
this or any other Christian country. You
jest lay down and snuff your camphire, an'
I '11 go out an' pump that boy drier 'n a

Now Miss Avilda Cummins was unmarried
by every implication of her being, as Henry
James would say: but Samantha Ann Rip-
ley was a spinster purely by accident. She
had seldom been exposed to the witcheries
of children, or she would have known long
before this that, so far as she was personally
concerned, they would always prove irre-
sistible. She marched into the kitchen like
a general resolved upon the extinction of the
enemy. She walked out again, half an hour
later, with the very teeth of her resolve
drawn, but so painlessly that she had not
been aware of the operation She marched
in a woman of single purpose; she came out
a double-faced diplomatist, with the seeds of

sedition and conspiracy lurking, all unsus-
pected, in her heart.
The cause ? Nothing more than a dozen

trifles light as air.
Timothy had sat
upon a little wood-
en stool at her feet;
had rested his arms
on her knees and
looked up into her
kind, rosy face with
a pair of liquid,
eyes like grey-blue
lakes, eyes which
seemed and were
the very windows
of his soul. He had

,--,- I,

7 fr s-

Timothy telling his Story.

sat there telling his

wee bit of a story ; just a vague, shadowy,
plaintive, uncomplaining scrap of a story,
without beginning, plot, or ending, but every
word in it set Samantha Ann Ripley's heart
Gay, who knew a good thing when she saw
it, had climbed up into her capacious lap,
and, not being denied, had cuddled her head
into that 'gracious hollow' in Samantha's

shoulder that had somehow missed the pres-
sure of the childish heads that should have
lain there. Then Samantha's arm had finally
crept round the wheedlesome bit of soft
humanity, and before she knew it the old
flag-bottomed chair was swaying gently to
and fro, to and fro, to and fro; and the
wooden rockers creaked more sweetly than
ever they had creaked before, for they were
singing their first cradle-song !
Then Gay heaved a great sigh of unspeak-
able satisfaction, and closed her lovely eyes.
She had been born with a desire to be
cuddled, and had had precious little experi-
ence of it. At the sound of this happy sigh
and the sight of the child's flower face, with
the upward curling lashes on the pink cheeks,
the oval snow-drift of the chin, the moist
tendrils of hair on the white forehead, and the
helpless, unaccustomed, clinging touch of the
baby arm about her neck, I cannot tell you
the why or wherefore, but old memories and
new desires began to stir in Samanthy Ann
Ripley's heart. In short, she had met the
enemy, and she was theirs !
Presently Gay was laid upon the old-

fashioned settle, and Samantha stationed her-
self where she could keep the flies off her
by waving a palm-leaf fan.
Now, there's one thing more I want you
to tell me,' said she, after she had possessed
herself of Timothy's unhappy past, uncertain
present, and still more dubious future; 'and
that is, what made you ask for Miss Marthy
Cummins when you come to the door?'
'Why, I thought it was the lady-of-the-
house's name,' said Timothy; 'I saw it on
her doorplate.'
'But we ain't got any doorplate, to begin
'Not a silver one on your door, like they
have in the city; but isn't that white
marble piece in the yard a doorplate? It's
got "Martha Cummins, aged 17," on it. I
thought may be in the country they had
them in their gardens; only I thought it
was queer they put their ages on them,
because they'd have to be scratched out
every little while, wouldn't they?'
'My grief!' ejaculated Samantha: 'for
pity's sake, don't you know a tombstun
when you see it ?'

'What is a tombstun?'
'Land sakes! what do you know, any-
way ? Didn't you never see a graveyard
where folks is buried?'
'I never went to the graveyard, but I
know where it is, and I know about people's
being buried. Flossy is going to be buried.
So the white stone shows the places where
the people are put, and tells their names,
does it? Why, it is a kind of a doorplate,
after all, don't you see?-Who is Martha
Cummins, aged 17 ?'
'She was Miss Vildy's sister that went to
the city, and then come home and died here,
long years ago. Miss Vildy set great store
by her, and can't bear to have her name
spoke; so remember what I say.-Now, this
" Flossy" you tell me about (of all the fool
names I ever hearn tell of, that beats all-
sounds like a wax doll, with her clo'es sewed
on !), was she a young woman?'
'I don't know whether she was young or
not,' said Tim, in a puzzled tone. She had
young yellow hair, and very young shiny
teeth, white as china; but her neck was
crackled underneath, like Miss Vilda's. It
had no kissing-places in it like Gay's.'

'Well, you stay here in the kitchen a spell
now, 'n' don't let in that rag-dog o' yourn
till he stops scratchin', if he keeps it up till
the crack o' doom ;-he's got to be learned
better manners. Now, I '11 go in 'n' talk to
Miss Vildy. She may keep you over night
'n' she may not; I ain't noways sure. You
started in wrong foot foremost.'

* CA


Tinmothy, Lady Gay, and Rags prove faitthfil lo each

/ "i`

4 ,', ) AMANTHA went into
the sitting-room and told
the whole story to Miss Avil-
da; told it simply and plainly,
!r she was not given to ara-
SI-ques in language, and then waited
i .-, a response.
Well, what do you advise doin' ?'
.,ked Miss Cummins nervously.
I don't feel comp'tent to advise,
Vilda ; the house ain't mine, nor yet the
beds that's in it, nor the victuals in the
butt'ry; but as a profession' Christian and
member of the Orthodox Church in good
and regular standing you can't turn them
children ou'doors when it's coming' on dark
and they ain't got no place to sleep.'
'Plenty of good Orthodox folks turned
their backs on Martha when she was in

'There may be Orthodox hogs, for all I
know,' replied the blunt Samantha, who fre-
quently called spades shovels in her search
after absolute truth of statement, 'but that
ain't no reason why we should copy after
'em's I know of.'
'I don't propose to take in two strange
children and saddle myself with 'em for days,
or weeks, perhaps,' said Miss Cummins
coldly, 'but I tell you what I will do. Sup-
posing we send the boy over to Squire
Bean's. It's near hayin' time, and he may
take him in to help round and do chores.
Then we'll tell him before he goes that
we'll keep the baby as long as he gets a
chance to work anywhere near. That will
give us time to look round for some place
for 'em and find out whether they've told
us the truth.'
'And if Squire Bean won't take the
boy?' asked Samantha, with as much in-
difference as she could assume.
'Well, I suppose there's nothing for it
but he must come back here and sleep. I '11
go out and tell him so,-I declare I feel as
weak as if I 'd had a spell of sickness '

Timothy bore the news better than Sa-
mantha had feared. Squire Bean's farm did
not look so very far away ; his heart was at
rest about Gay ; he felt that he could find a
shelter for himself somewhere, and anything
was better than a home with a capital H.
'Now, how '11 the baby act when she wakes
up and finds you're gone?' inquired Miss
Vilda anxiously, as Timothy took his hat
and bent down to kiss the sleeping child.
'Well, I don't know exactly,' answered
Timothy, 'because she's always had me,
you see. But I think she'll be all right,
now that she knows you a little, if I can see
her every day. She never cries except once
in a long while when she gets mad; and if
you're careful how you behave, she '11 hardly
ever get mad at you.'
'Well I vow!' exclaimed Miss Vilda with
a grim glance at Samantha, I guess she 'll
have to do the behavin'.'
So Timothy was shown the way across the
fields to Squire Bean's. Samantha accom-
panied him to the back gate, where she gave
him three doughnuts and a sneaking kiss,
watching him out of sight under the pretence

of taking the towels and napkins off the

It was nearly nine o'clock and quite dark
when Timothy stole again to the little gate
of the White Farm. The feet that had
travelled so courageously over the mile walk
to Squire Bean's had come back again slowly
and wearily; for it is one thing to be shod
with the sandals of
S hope, and quite an-
other to tread upon the
leaden soles of disap-
'.' pointment.
He leaned upon the
- -'--- white picket gate lis-
>- 'tening to the chirp of
the frogs and looking
-'i at the fireflies as they
Timothy goes to Squire Bean's. hung their gleaming
lamps here and there in the tall grass. Then
he crept round to the side door, to implore
the kind offices of the mediator before he
entered the presence of the judge, whom he
assumed to be sitting in awful state some-
where in the front part of the house. He

lifted the latch noiselessly and entered. Oh,
horror Miss Avilda herself was sprinkling
clothes at the great table on one side of the
There was a moment of silence.
'He wouldn't have me,' said Timothy
simply, 'he said I wasn't big enough to be
any good. I offered him Gay, too, but he
didn't want her either, and if you please, I
would rather sleep on the sofa so as not to
be any more trouble.'
You won't do any such thing,' responded
Miss Vilda briskly. 'You've got a royal
welcome this time, sure, and I guess you can
earn your lodging fast enough. You hear
that ?' and she opened the door that led into
the upper part of the house.
A piercing shriek floated down into the
kitchen, and another on the heels of that,
and then another. Every drop of blood in
Timothy's spare body rushed to his pale face.
' Is she being whipped ?' he whispered, with
set lips.
'No; she needs it bad enough, but we
ain't savages. She's only got the pretty
temper that matches her hair, just as you

said. I guess we haven't been behavin' to
suit her.'
'Can I go up? She'll stop in a minute
when she sees me. She never went to bed
without me before, and truly, truly, she isn't
a cross baby!'
'Come right along and welcome; just so
long as she has to stay you're invited to
visit with her. Land sakes the neighbours
will think we're killing' pigs!' and Miss
Vilda started upstairs to show Timothy the
Gay was sitting up in bed, and the faithful
Samantha Ann was seated beside her with
a lapful of bribes-apples, seed-cakes, an
illustrated Bible, a thermometer, an ear of
red corn, and a large stuffed green bird, the
glory of the keeping room' mantelpiece.
The bribes were all useless. A whole
aviary of highly coloured songsters would not
have assuaged Gay's woe at that moment.
Every effort at conciliation was met with
the one plaint: 'I want my Timfy! I want
my Timfy!'
At the first sight of the beloved form, Gay
flung the sacred bird into the furthest corner

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