Lovey Mary | Page 5

Then the sun got too high up in the heavens to watch little

runaway orphan girls. Nobody saw her steal through the deserted
playroom, down the clean bare steps, which she had helped to wear
away, and out through the yard to the coal-shed. Here she got the
reluctant Tommy into his clothes, and tied on his little round straw hat,
so absurdly like her own.
"Is we playin' hie-spy, Yuvey?" asked the mystified youngster.
"Yes, Tommy," she whispered, "and we are going a long way to hide.
You are my little boy now, and you must love me better than anything
in the world. Say it, Tommy; say, 'I love you better 'n anybody in the
whole world.'"
"Will I det on de rollin' honor?" asked Tommy, thinking he was
learning his golden text.
But Lovey Mary had forgotten her question. She was taking a farewell
look at the home, every nook and corner of which had suddenly grown
dear. Already she seemed a thing apart, one having no right to its
shelter and protection. She turned to where Tommy was playing with
some sticks in the corner, and bidding him not to stir or speak until her
return, she slipped back up the walk and into the kitchen. Swiftly and
quietly she made a fire in the stove and filled the kettle with water.
Then she looked about for something more she might do. On the table
lay the grocery book with a pencil attached. She thought a moment,
then wrote laboriously under the last order: "Miss Bell I will take kere
Tommy pleas don't be mad." Then she softly closed the door behind
her.
A few minutes later she lifted Tommy out of the low shed window, and
hurried him down the alley and out into the early morning streets. At
the corner they took a car, and Tommy knelt by the window and
absorbed the sights with rapt attention; to him the adventure was
beginning brilliantly. Even Lovey Mary experienced a sense of
exhilaration when she paid their fare out of one of the silver dollars.
She knew the conductor was impressed, because he said, "You better
watch Buddy's hat, ma'am." That "ma'am" pleased her profoundly; it
caused her unconsciously to assume Miss Bell's tone and manner as she

conversed with the back of Tommy's head.
"We'll go out on the avenue," she said. "We'll go from house to house
till I get work. 'Most anybody would be glad to get a handy girl that can
cook and wash and sew, only--I ain't very big, and then there's you."
"Ain't that a big house?" shouted Tommy, half way out of the window.
"Yes; don't talk so loud. That's the court-house."
"Where they make court-plaster at?" inquired Tommy shrilly.
Lovey Mary glanced around uneasily. She hoped the old man in the
corner had not heard this benighted remark. All went well until the car
reached the terminal station. Here Tommy refused to get off. In vain
Lovey Mary coaxed and threatened.
"It'll take us right back to the home," she pleaded. "Be a good boy and
come with Lovey. I'll buy you something nice."
Tommy remained obdurate. He believed in letting well enough alone.
The joys of a street-car ride were present and tangible; "something
nice" was vague, unsatisfying.
"Don't yer little brother want to git off?" asked the conductor,
sympathetically.
"No, sir," said Lovey Mary, trying to maintain her dignity while she
struggled with her charge. "If you please, sir, would you mind holding
his feet while I loosen his hands?"
Tommy, shrieking indignant protests, was borne from the car and
deposited on the sidewalk.
"Don't you dare get limber!" threatened Lovey Mary. "If you do I'll
spank you right here on the street. Stand up! Straighten out your legs!
Tommy! do you hear me?"
Tommy might have remained limp indefinitely had not a hurdy-gurdy

opportunely arrived on the scene. It is true that he would go only in the
direction of the music, but Lovey Mary was delighted to have him go at
all. When at last they were headed for the avenue, Tommy caused
another delay.
"I want my ducky," he announced.
The words brought consternation to Lovey Mary. She had fearfully
anticipated them from the moment of leaving the home.
"I'll buy you a 'tend-like duck," she said.
"No; I want a sure-'nough ducky; I want mine."
Lovey Mary was exasperated. "Well, you can't have yours. I can't get it
for you, and you might as well hush."
His lips trembled, and two large tears rolled down his round cheeks.
When he was injured he was irresistible. Lovey Mary promptly
surrendered.
"Don't cry, baby boy! Lovey'll get you one someway."
For some time the quest of the duck was fruitless. The stores they
entered were wholesale