The Story of Patsy | Page 7

print an appeal for chairs; and the children may wear
out the floor sitting on it before the right people read it!"
"Yes; and oh, Helen, a printed appeal is such a dead thing, after all. If I
could only fix on a printed page Danny Kern's smile when he
conquered his temper yesterday, put into type that hand clasp of Mrs.
Finnigan's that sent such a thrill of promise to our hearts, show a
subscriber Mrs. Guinee's quivering lips when she thanked us for the
change in Joe,--why, we shouldn't need money very long."
"That is true. What a week we have had, Kate,--like a little piece of the
millennium!"

"You must not be disappointed if next week isn't as good; that could
hardly be. Let's see,--Mrs. Daniels began it on Monday morning, didn't
she, by giving the caps for the boys?"
"Yes," groaned Helen dismally, "a generous but misguided benefactress!
Forty-three caps precisely alike save as to size! What scenes of carnage
we shall witness when we distribute them three times a day!"
"We must remedy that by sewing labels into the crowns, each marked
with the child's name in indelible ink."
"Exactly,--what a charming task! I shall have to write my cherubs'
names, I suppose,--most of them will take a yard of tape apiece. I
already recall Paulina Strozynski, Mercedes McGafferty, and
Sigismund Braunschweiger."
"And I, Maria Virginia de Rejas Perkins, Halfdan Christiansen, and
Americo Vespucci Garibaldi."
"This is our greatest misfortune since the donation of the thirty-seven
little red plaid shawls. Well, good-night. By the way, what's his name?"
"Patsy Dennis. I shall take him. I'll tell you more on Monday. Please
step into Gilbert's and buy a comfortable little cane-seated armchair,
larger than these, and ask one of your good Samaritans to make a soft
cushion for it. We'll give him the table that we had made for Johnny
Cass. Poor Johnny! I am sorry he has a successor so soon."
In five minutes I was taking my homeward walk, mind and heart full of
my elfish visitor, with his strange and ancient thoughts, his sharp
speeches and queer fancies. Would he ever come back, or would one of
those terrible spasms end his life before I was permitted to help and
ease his crooked body, or pour a bit of mother-love into his starved
little heart?
[Illustration: MISS HELEN.]
CHAPTER IV.

BEHIND THE SCENES.
Some children are like little human scrawl-books, blotted all over with
the sins and mistakes of their ancestors.
Monday morning came as mornings do come, bringing to the
overworked body and mind a certain languor difficult to shake off. As I
walked down the dirty little street, with its rows of old-clothes shops,
saloons, and second-hand-furniture stores, I called several of my
laggards, and gave them a friendly warning. "Quarter of nine, Mrs.
Finnigan!" "Bless me soul, darlin'! Well, I will hurry up my childern,
that I will; but the baby was that bad with whoopin'-cough last night
that I never got three winks meself, darlin'!"
"All right; never mind the apron; let Jimmy walk on with me, and I will
give him one at school." Jimmy trots proudly at my side, munching a
bit of baker's pie and carrying my basket. I drop into Mrs. Powers' suite
of apartments in Rosalie Alley, and find Lafayette Powers still in bed.
His twelve-year-old sister and guardian, Hildegarde, has over-slept, as
usual, and breakfast is not in sight. Mrs. Powers goes to a dingy office
up town at eight o'clock, her present mission in life being the healing of
the nations by means of mental science. It is her fourth vocation in two
years, the previous ones being tissue-paper flowers, lustre painting, and
the agency for a high-class stocking supporter. I scold Hildegarde
roundly, and she scrambles sleepily about the room to find a note that
Mrs. Powers has left for me. I rejoin my court in the street, and open
the letter with anticipation.
Miss Kate.
Dear Maddam.--You complane of Lafayette's never getting to school
till eleven o'clock. It is not my affare as Hildegarde has full charge of
him and I never intefear, but I would sujjest that if you beleeve in him
he will do better. Your unbeleef sapps his will powers. you have only
reprooved him for being late. why not incurrage him say by paying him
5 cents a morning for a wile to get amung his little maits on the stroak
of nine? "declare for good and good will work for you" is one of our
sayings. I have not time to treet Lafayette myself my busness being so

engroassing but if you would take a few minites each night and deny
Fear along the 5 avanues you could heel him. Say there is no Time in
the infinnit