Big Brother | Page 7

forgetting.
"Don't you remember," he would say, "how papa used to come home in
the evening and take us both on his knees, and sing 'Kingdom Coming'

to us? And how mamma laughed and called him a big boy when he got
down on the floor and played circus with us?
"And don't you remember how we helped mamma make cherry pie for
dinner one day? You were on the doorstep with some dough in your
hands, and a greedy old hen came up and gobbled it right out of your
fingers."
Robin would laugh out gleefully at each fresh reminiscence, and then
say: "Tell some more r'members, Big Brother!" And so Big Brother
would go on until a curly head drooped over on his shoulder and a
sleepy voice yawned "Sand-man's a-comin'."
The hands that undressed him were as patient and deft as a woman's.
He missed no care or tenderness.
When he knelt down in his white gown, just where the patch of
moonlight lay on the floor, his chubby hands crossed on Big Brother's
knee, there was a gentle touch of caressing fingers on his curls as his
sleepy voice repeated the evening prayer the far away mother had
taught them.
There was always one ceremony that had to be faithfully performed, no
matter how sleepy he might be. The black dancing bear had always to
be put to bed in a cracker box and covered with a piece of red flannel.
[Illustration]
One night he looked up gravely as he folded it around his treasure and
said, "Robin tucks ze black dancin' bear in bed, an' Big Brother tucks in
Robin. Who puts Big Brother to bed?"
"Nobody, now," answered Steven with a quivering lip, for his child's
heart ached many a night for the lullaby and bedtime petting he so
sorely missed.
"Gramma Deebun do it?" suggested Robin quickly.

"No: Grandma Dearborn has the rheumatism. She couldn't walk
up-stairs."
"She got ze wizzim-tizzim," echoed Robin solemnly. Then his face
lighted up with a happy thought. "Nev' mind; Robin'll put Big Brother
to bed all ze nights when he's a man." And Big Brother kissed the
sweet mouth and was comforted.
During the summer Mr. Dearborn drove to town with fresh marketing
every morning, starting early in order to get home by noon. Saturdays
he took Steven with him, for that was the day he supplied his butter
customers.
The first time the boy made the trip he carried Mrs. Estel's address in
his pocket, which he had carefully copied from the fly-leaf of the book
she had given him. Although he had not the remotest expectation of
seeing her, there was a sense of companionship in the mere thought that
she was in the same town with him.
He watched the lamp-posts carefully as they went along, spelling out
the names of the streets. All of a sudden his heart gave a bound. They
had turned a corner and were driving along Fourth Avenue. He took the
slip of paper from his pocket. Yes, he was right. That was the name of
the street. Then he began to watch for the numbers. 200, 300, 400; they
passed on several more blocks. Mr. Dearborn drove up to the pavement
and handed him the reins to hold, while he took the crock of butter into
the house. Steven glanced up at the number. It was 812. Then the next
one--no, the one after that--must be the place.
It was a large, elegant house, handsomer than any they had passed on
the avenue. As long as it was in sight Steven strained his eyes for a
backward look, but saw no one.
Week after week he watched and waited, but the blinds were always
closed, and he saw no signs of life about the place. Then one day he
saw a carriage stop at the gate. A lady all in black stepped out and
walked slowly towards the house. Her long, heavy veil hid her face, but
he thought he recognized her. He was almost sure it was Mrs. Estel. He

could hardly resist the inclination to run after her and speak to her; but
while he hesitated the great hall door swung back and shut her from
sight. He wondered what great trouble had come to her that she should
be dressed in deep black.
The hope of seeing her was the only thing about his weekly trips to
town that he anticipated with any pleasure. It nearly always happened
that some time during the morning while he was gone Robin got into
trouble. Nobody seemed to think that the reason the child was usually
so good was due largely to Steven's keeping him happily employed. He
always tried to contrive something to keep him busy part of the
morning;