then up rose the old woman behind the stand, ready with tongue and fist to punish this destroyer of her stock; for the truth was that miss bonny was not an “angel” at all, but what nancy smith had so common-sensibly judged her to be–a lost child. such a plump and substantial child, as well, that her downfall crushed to a crimson flood the red “drops” she would have seized and utterly demolished another pile of perishable cakes.
“save us and help us! you clumsy girl! what you mean, hurlin’ that young one onto my stand, that way? well, you’ve spoiled a power of stuff an’ i only hope you can pay for it on the spot!”
with that, the irate vendor snatched bonny from the stand and dropped her upon the floor beyond it; where, terrified both by her fall and this rough treatment, she set up such a wail that further scolding was prevented. more than that, instead of being properly abashed by her own carelessness, glory was far more concerned that bonny’s beautiful coat was stained and ruined and its owner’s heart so grieved. down she dropped beside her “guardian,” showering kisses upon her, and comforting her so tenderly that the baby forgot her fear and began to lick the sticky fluid, which had filled the “drops,” from her sleeve that it had smeared.
this restored quiet so that the vender could demand payment for the damage she had swiftly estimated, and she thrust her hand toward the pair on the floor, saying, “hand me over a dollar, and be quick about it! ought to be more, seein’s it’ll take me half a day to straighten up and―”
“a dollar! why–why, i never had so much in my hull life! an’ not a single cent now. yes–they’s a quarter to home, ’t i forgot an’ left in the bag, that nick dodd give me–but–a dollar!” gasped poor glory, as frightened as surprised. just then, too, a wharf policeman drew near and stopped to learn what was amiss. he did not look like the jolly officer of elbow lane and the stand-woman seemed sure of his sympathy as she rapidly related her side of the story.
he listened in silence, and visions of patrol wagons, and the police stations where arrested persons were confined, rose before poor glory’s fancy, while with frantic tenderness she hugged bonny angel so close that the little one protested and wriggled herself free. but no sooner was she upon her feet than the child became her own best plea for pardon. reaching her arms upward to be lifted, she began a delighted examination of the brass buttons on the man’s blue coat; and, because he had babies of his own, it seemed the natural thing for him to do to take her up as she desired.
“oh, but you mustn’t, you dastn’t carry her away! she hain’t done a thing, only tumbled off my shoulder! ’twas me done it, not holdin’ her tight enough! an’ she can’t be ’rested, she can’t! how can she, when she’s a ‘guardian angel’? give her back–give her back!”
in her distress, take-a-stitch herself laid violent hands upon the blue sleeves which so strongly enfolded her darling and would have wrested them apart had strength sufficed. as it was, the helmeted officer looked calmly down upon her anguished face and quietly whistled.
“keep cool, sissy, keep cool. wait till i hear your side the business before you talk of arrests. besides, this baby! why, she’s the prettiest little innocent i’ve seen in a week’s beat,” said the rough voice, and now regarding the lips through which it issued, the young “elbower” perceived that they were no longer stern but actually smiling.
then she did talk; not only of this last adventure but, encouraged by his close attention, of all the events of her past life. out it came, the whole story; glory’s love of the lane and its people, her grandfather’s disappearance, the coming of bonny angel, “sent to take his place an’ help to find him,” her present search and her honest regret for the injury to this old woman’s wares.
“’cause i know how ’tis myself. onct a lady fell into my goober basket an’ smashed ’em so ’t i was heart-broke. an’ if ever–ever in this world i can earn a hull dollar i’ll come right straight back here an’ pay it. sure, sure, sure.”
now, during all this relation, though the policeman’s face seemed to soften and grow more like that of his brother-officer of elbow lane, it did not grow less grave. indeed, a great perplexity came into his eyes and he appeared to be far more interested in the fate of bonny angel than in the voluble interruptions of apple kate. when glory paused, out of breath and with no more to tell, he set the little one down and took out his note-book. having made some entries there, he exchanged a few low-spoken words with the vender and these appeared to quiet her wrath and silence her demands. indeed, their influence was so powerful that she selected a pile of the broken cakes, put them into a paper bag, and offered them to take-a-stitch, saying:
“there, girl, it’s all right, or will be, soon’s officer finds that young one’s folks. it’s past noon, nigh on toward night, an’ likely she was hungry, too little to know any better, and you can have part yourself. you just do what he tells ye, an’ you’ll soon see that baby back in its mother’s arms. laws, how heart-broke she must be a-losin’ it so.”
goober glory heard and felt that her own heart was surely breaking. bonny angel’s “folks”! she had some, then, since this policeman said so–policemen knew everything–and she wasn’t a heaven-sent “guardian,” at all. and, furthermore, if this was a “lost child,” she knew exactly what would be done.
it would be the station house, after all, though not by way of arrest. meg-laundress’s assorted children had been “lost” on the city streets more than once and meg hadn’t fretted a bit. she knew well, that when her day’s toil was over, she had but to visit the nearest station to reclaim her missing offspring; or if not at the nearest, why then at some other similar place in the great town, whence a telephone message would promptly summon the child. but bonny angel? station house matrons were kind enough, and their temporary care of her brood had been a relief to overworked meg-laundress; but for this beautiful “guardian,” they were all unfit. only tenderest love should ever come near so angelic a little creature and of such love glory’s own heart was full.
she reasoned swiftly. the baby was hers, by right, till that sad day of which she had not dreamed when she must restore it to its “folks,” whoever and wherever they were. she would so restore it, though it break her heart; yet better her own heart breaking than that mother-heart of which the vender spoke. to her search for grandpa, in which bonny angel was guide, was now added a search for these unknown “folks” to whom she must give the little one up. that was all. it was very simple and very hard to do, till one thought came to cheer her courage. by the time she found these unknown people she would, also, have found captain simon beck! she had been supremely happy with him, always, and she would be happy again; yet how dear, how dear this little comrade of a day had become!
glory’s decisions never wavered. once made, she acted upon them without hesitation. she now turned to the policeman, who had written some further items in his book and was now putting it into his pocket, and said, “you needn’t bother, mister p’liceman, to find ’em. i’ll take bonny angel home my own self.”
“hey? what? do know where she belongs, after all? you been fooling me with your talk?” he asked quickly, and now with face becoming very stern indeed. he was sadly used to dealing with deceit but hated to find it in one so young as goober glory.
“no, sir. i never. but i will. i’d rather an’ i must–i must! oh, i can’t let her go to that terr’ble station house where thievers an’ bad folks go, an’ she so white an’ pure an’ little an’ sweet! i can’t. she mustn’t. she shan’t! so there.”
at her own enumeration of bonny angel’s charms, the girl’s heart thrilled afresh with love and admiration, and, catching her again into her close embrace, she fell to rapturously kissing the small face that was now “sweet” in truth, from the sticky drops the child had licked.
“nonsense! if you don’t know where she belongs, nor have any money to spend in finding out, the station’s the only place. it’s the first place, too, she’ll be looked for, and she’ll be well cared for till claimed. you can go along with her, maybe, since you appear to be lost, too,” remarked the officer. “but i’m wasting time. you stop right here by apple kate’s stand, while i step yonder and telephone headquarters. a man’ll come over next boat and take you both back.”
the chance of going “back” to the city whose very paving stones now seemed dear to her did, for an instant, stagger glory’s decision. but only for an instant. bonny angel was still the guide. it was bonny angel who had brought them to this further shore where, beyond this great, noisy ferry-house were those green terraces and waving trees. it was here, separated by the wide river from all familiar scenes, that her search must go on.
a customer came to the stand and occupied apple kate’s attention, at the same time the wharf policeman walked away to send his message concerning little bonny. that moment was glory’s opportunity, and she improved it, thinking with good reason:
“if onct he gets a-hold on us he won’t leave us go. he’d think it wouldn’t be right, for a p’liceman. well, then, he shan’t get a-hold!”
a few minutes later, when her patron had passed on, apple kate looked around and missed the children, but supposed they had followed the officer. yet when he came back to the stand, he denied that they had done so and angrily inquired “why she couldn’t keep an eye on them and oblige a man, while he just rung up headquarters?”
to which she as crisply replied, “huh! my eyes has had all sight o’ them they want, and they’ll trouble you nor me no more. they’ve skipped, so you might ’s well trot back and ring down whatever you’ve rung up. they’ve skipped.”
