The Story of Patsy | Page 4

Had I poured out the love--bountiful,
disinterested, long-suffering--of which God shows us the measure and
fullness? Had I--But the sun dropped lower and lower behind the dull
brown hills, and exhausted nature found a momentary forgetfulness in
sleep.
CHAPTER II.
PATSY COMES TO CALL.
"When a'ither bairnies are hushed to their hame By aunty, or cousin, or
frecky grand-dame, Wha stands last and lanely, an' naebody carin'? 'Tis
the puir doited loonie,--the mitherless bairn!"
Suddenly I was awakened by a subdued and apologetic cough. Starting
from my nap, I sat bolt upright in astonishment, for quietly ensconced
in a small red chair by my table, and sitting still as a mouse, was the
weirdest apparition ever seen in human form. A boy, seeming--how
many years old shall I say? for in some ways he might have been a
century old when he was born--looking, in fact, as if he had never been

young, and would never grow older. He had a shrunken, somewhat
deformed body, a curious, melancholy face, and such a head of
dust-colored hair that he might have been shocked for a door-mat. The
sole redeemers of the countenance were two big, pathetic, soft dark
eyes, so appealing that one could hardly meet their glance without
feeling instinctively in one's pocket for a biscuit or a ten-cent piece. But
such a face! He had apparently made an attempt at a toilet without the
aid of a mirror, for there was a clean circle like a race-track round his
nose, which member reared its crest, untouched and grimy, from the
centre, like a sort of judge's stand, while the dusky rim outside
represented the space for audience seats.
I gazed at this astonishing diagram of a countenance for a minute,
spellbound, thinking it resembled nothing so much as a geological map,
marked with coal deposits. And as for his clothes, his jacket was ragged
and arbitrarily docked at the waist, while one of his trousers-legs was
slit up at the side, and flapped hither and thither when he moved, like a
lug-sail in a calm.
"Well, sir," said I at length, waking up to my duties as hostess, "did you
come to see me?"
"Yes, I did."
"Let me think; I don't seem to remember; I am so sleepy. Are you one
of my little friends?"
"No, I hain't yit, but I'm goin' to be."
"That's good, and we'll begin right now, shall we?"
"I knowed yer fur Miss Kate the minute I seen yer."
"How was that, eh?"
"The boys said as how you was a kind o' pretty lady, with towzly hair
in front." (Shades of my cherished curls!)

"I'm very much obliged to the boys."
"Kin yer take me in?"
"What? Here? Into the Kindergarten?"
"Yes; I bin waitin' this yer long whiles fur to git in."
"Why, my dear little boy," gazing dubiously at his contradictory
countenance, "you're too--big, aren't you? We have only tiny little
people here, you know; not six years old. You are more, aren't you?"
"Well, I'm nine by the book; but I ain't more 'n scerce six along o' my
losing them three year."
"What do you mean, child? How could you lose three years?" cried I,
more and more puzzled by my curious visitor.
"I lost 'em on the back stairs, don't yer know. My father he got fightin'
mad when he was drunk, and pitched me down two flights of 'em, and
my back was most clean broke in two, so I couldn't git out o' bed
forever, till just now."
"Why, poor child, who took care of you?"
"Mother she minded me when she warn't out washin'."
"And did she send you here to-day?"
"Well! however could she, bein' as how she's dead? I s'posed you
knowed that. She died after I got well; she only waited for me to git up,
anyhow."
O God! these poor mothers! they bite back the cry of their pain, and
fight death with love so long as they have a shred of strength for the
battle!
"What's your name, dear boy?"

"Patsy."
"Patsy what?"
"Patsy nothin'! just only Patsy; that's all of it. The boys calls me
'Humpty Dumpty' and 'Rags,' but that's sassy."
"But all little boys have another name, Patsy."
"Oh, I got another, if yer so dead set on it,--it's Dinnis,--but Jim says 't
won't wash; 't ain't no 'count, and I wouldn't tell yer nothin' but a
sure-pop name, and that's Patsy. Jim says lots of other fellers out to the
'sylum has Dinnis fur names, and they ain't worth shucks, nuther.
Dinnis he must have had orful much boys, I guess."
"Who is Jim?"
"Him and I's brothers, kind o' brothers, not sure 'nuff brothers. Oh, I
dunno how it is 'zactly,--Jim'll tell yer. He dunno as I