the days sped by. the summer heat deepened and there were thankful hearts in the vine-covered mansion in mt. vernon place. for bonny-gay was well again; able to run about her beloved park, and to play in the shadow of the lion with the few children left still in that part of the city.
nearly all the big houses were now closed, however, and their owners departed to seashore or mountain. the mcclures themselves were making preparations for their own summer flitting to the great country house of which the little girls had talked. they would have still enjoyed being together, but that could no longer be.
a very few days after mary jane had made her business contract with the gray gentleman, and he had himself spoken to the conductors of the cars upon which she would have to take her daily ride—so that everything was made easy and safe for her—those rides had ceased. william bump returned as suddenly as he had departed, and, with all his old enmity against more fortunate folk, had immediately forbidden them.
but mrs. bump had herself gone to mrs. mcclure and explained enough of matters to prove that mary jane was neither ungrateful nor forgetful; and mrs. mcclure had accepted the explanation with great cheerfulness. it was a much easier way out of a difficult position than she had anticipated; because bonny-gay still talked about inviting mary jane with them to the country, and this her mother did not at all desire.
however, a compromise was effected. mary jane was to be asked to care for the thirteen dolls, the two canaries, the aquarium, and polly; only the pony being allowed to accompany his little mistress on her summer outing. so, one morning, the carriage came around again and all these creatures were stowed in it, along with bonny-gay and a maid. they had been taken straight to dingy street, where[134] they were left with many injunctions and much sage advice, as to their proper care. then the two little “sunday bairns” had kissed each other many times, and had torn themselves weeping from each other’s embrace, while the dignified maid looked coldly on, urging:
“if you please, miss mcclure, you would much better be going. the train goes at two o’clock and there’s much to pack, still.”
“very well, hawkins. i’m coming. good-bye, mary jane, dear, dear mary jane! i’ll write you as soon as i get there and maybe, maybe, your father and my mother will let you come out to our house and make me a beautiful long visit. i’d teach you to ride on the pony just the same as if your legs were good, or in the goat cart or—”
“come, come, miss bonny-gay!” called hawkins.
the coachman cracked his whip, there was a last glimpse of a bare sunny head thrust from the carriage window, the tossing of ecstatic kisses, and bonny-gay had passed out of mary jane’s life, probably forever. that is, if the intentions of her parents could be carried out. when they returned, in the autumn, a man could be dispatched for the dolls and things, if their owner still desired them. if not, they might remain the property of the small bumps, and so well rid of them. the parrot had been misbehaving of late, and using expressions not wholly suited to the proprieties of mt. vernon place. originally owned and trained by a man of the “slums,” she was returning to the rude speech of earlier years.
but she was well received in the bump household, save by william, its head. he had frowned upon the coming into it of bonny-gay’s treasures and only consented to the arrangement because of mary jane’s disappointment. for ever since his return the father and daughter had been always together and each seemed doubly anxious to do nothing that would give the other pain. and after a time, even he became interested in the queer bird and joined his children in inciting it to talk; though his interest was not fully won until there sounded along the street a familiar cry, to which nobody paid much heed except polly.
she was suddenly transformed. she fluttered her feathers, stretched her neck, cocked her head on one side, and in a tone that was almost human in its mimicry burst forth:
“crab-crab-crab-crab—crab-crab-crab! devil-devilled-devil-devilled-crabs! heah’s-de-crab-man! is yo’ hongry? crab-man-goin’-to-baid-now! dis yo’ las’ chance for yo’ nice-fried-hot-fried-devil-devilled-crabs! c-r-a-b-s! ou-ou-ouch!”
after which remarkable exploit mistress polly became the idol of dingy street and even of william bump.
the disposition of her new charges, so that they should not take up too much space in her little home, and the careful packing away in the top-cupboard of the food bonny-gay had provided for her pets, kept mary jane busy all morning; and her mother had dinner on the table before she observed how the time had flown. but when she heard the cheerful summons:
“come, father. come children!” and smelled the freshly cooked fish, she realized that she had given more attention than she meant to her new cares.
“oh! mother, i didn’t think i was so long! and i wanted to get my part of the ironing done; because i promised bonny-gay that i’d go to the park, if you could spare me, and watch her train go by. it’s that fast express, that whizzes so; but she’s to sit on the park side the parlor car, she called it, and she’s to watch for me and i for her. she’ll wave and i’ll wave and that will be our really last good-by. till she comes home again.”
“that would be how-de-do? wouldn’t it, child? and the ironing’s all right. i’ve done that so, if father wants to go watch the men this afternoon, you can go with him. now eat your dinner and be thankful for all your blessings.”
everybody was always hungry at that table and the dinner was soon over. then william bump arose, put on his hat, whistled to a big black dog who lay on the doorstep and started off for his afternoon of loafing.
mary jane watched the pair with a pitying love.
“those two seem just alike, some ways, don’t they mother? father lost his home and his work and so did max. dearly as bonny-gay loves that dog, ever since he got her hurt, he doesn’t want to be with her like he used. didn’t you notice, this morning? when she hugged him and bade him good-by, he was just a little pleased; yet he kept one eye on father and soon’s he could walked back and lay down beside him. father is dreadful good to max, isn’t he? he often says he’d never have come back if it hadn’t been for—for us—”
“for you, daughter. mostly for you, it was, dear.”
“well, max helped. he staid right close and coaxing like. oh! i do wish the company would give father another try.”
“it won’t. but i’m in hopes, after awhile, he’ll find something else to do. meanwhile you stay close to him. don’t give him a chance to get down-hearted again and—you know. didn’t you say your gray gentleman was coming to the park to look at the ‘farms’ this very day? why, maybe, child, maybe he’d know of a job somewhere. you might ask him.”
“yes, i might. i will. what’s father going to do now? he’s taken to the track.”
“he says that, though he has no work there, there isn’t any law forbids him sitting round, watching his old friends who have. he likes to talk with men, you know; and if you’re handy by he’s quite satisfied. father doesn’t like to go wrong any better than we like to have him. he trusts you to watch out for him, honey. so, if i were you, instead of taking the baby and going along the street to the gate i’d go to the park by the railroad. you can climb up the embankment at an easy place, and stay near father. then you’d be able to see everything. the children in the ‘playgrounds,’ and the gray gentleman if he goes to them, and bonny-gay’s train when it comes, and all. only—only, mary jane—take care to give the cars plenty of room.”
“course i will. ‘look out for the cars when the bell rings!’” laughingly quoted the child. “and you look out for the parrot when the crab-man comes! i guess you’re right. i’d better not take the baby. if i climb up the bank i might let him slip. good-by. i’ll make father all right and happy, don’t you fear.”
the mother watched her darling out of sight, thinking how sunshiny and helpful she was, then settled the baby safely among his new playthings and resumed her endless toil. but she was wholly happy and contented now. they were poor, indeed, but they were not suffering, and her hopeful heart was sure that in some way a task would be found for her husband which would keep him out of idleness and evil company. she began her one hymn of cheerfulness: “lord, in the morning thou shalt, thou shalt, lord, in the morning thou shalt hear, my voice ascending high.”
meanwhile, mary jane had hopped along the road till she came to a part of the railway embankment which she could climb, then scrambled to its top. just before her the rails were laid over a long trestle above the deep bed of a stream, now almost dry. a little water still ran among the stones below but mary jane did not look down upon that. she made her way swiftly, yet cautiously, beside the track, pushed rapidly along the trestle, and reached her father’s side, at the further end of it.
“here am i, father. i’m going to watch for the train from here.”
“all right, daughter.”
a fellow workman looked up and remonstrated:
“you oughtn’t to let that girl walk that trestle, bump. if her crutches slipped it—the bottom’s rough and deep down.”
“oh! i’m not afraid. i don’t often, either, though i’ve played about this railroad ever since i was born. all the dingy street children play there. how pretty the park looks, down yonder;” interrupted mary jane, anxious that her father should not be blamed, especially for what was not his doing.
“that’s right. you oughtn’t, daughter,” he said.
“i won’t again, then, father, if you don’t like. but i was safe enough. what’s that team for, that’s coming?”
“they’re going to haul off that pile of ties that have been taken up. company gives ’em for the hauling. only things it ever does give, too.”
“they ought to work faster. see. they keep dropping them on the track. if a train should come by it would get thrown off. don’t they know that?”
“oh, they know it all right, but they’ll be in time. they’re used to it.”
it was in this very hardihood of custom that the danger lay. a beginner at such a task would have watched constantly for the approach of a train, but this “gang” did not. for the greater ease of handling they rolled the heap of heavy ties over upon the track, as the anxious girl had observed, and two men lifting leisurely placed the weighty, worn out timber upon the wagon. the mule team before the wagon stood half-over the edge of the embankment, heads dropped, themselves enjoying the rest regardless of position.
the men laughed and talked. william bump joined in the chatter and forgot mary jane. the talk grew more interesting, to the speakers, and became a torture to the listening girl, though she paid no attention to the words. she realized, merely, that they were growing more and more indolent; the pile of ties upon the rails lessened very, very slowly. it was already long past noon, she knew that. she was familiar enough with the running of trains to know, also, that the through express was the next one due. it was upon this through express that bonny-gay would travel. she began to feel cold with her anxiety. she must speak to those men, even if it should displease her father, who hated interference of that sort.
so she moved forward a little way and touched the arm of the foreman.
“will you tell me the time, please?”
“ten minutes to two, little girl. pretty hot up here, isn’t it?” he answered, good naturedly.
“mary jane, don’t meddle. children should be seen not heard.”
“yes, father. only ten minutes! why, you’ve been ever and ever so long taking off less than half the ties. can you finish in ten minutes? can you?” she demanded, eagerly.
“why, kid, what’s the hurry? got another job for us, eh?”
“the hurry? the train. the two o’clock express. it’s almost due.”
the foreman’s face paled a trifle. then he whistled.
“whew, sis, you’re right! jim, lead that team off the bank. we’ll just roll the rest down to the bottom and drive round there to load up. now, with a will! there ain’t no time to spare! here she goes!”
the mules were led away by one man while the others exerted themselves to clear the tracks in any and every manner possible. there was no longer any talking. there were no false movements. they knew that there was no way of signalling the express, just there, even if there should be need. but there must be no need, the tracks must be cleared. must be!
william bump moved down upon the bank and watching from an apparently safe place called upon mary jane to follow him.
she did not hear him. she stood, resting upon her crutches, anxiously watching the toilers, straining forward, as if in that attitude she could help them, and listening—listening—with every nerve at tension. she did not see the gray gentleman, who had come into the park awhile before and having caught sight of his favorite’s pink frock, crossed the level space from the “playgrounds” to the embankment to see what so interested her. as he reached the spot below the end of the trestle he, also, began to comprehend what was passing in mary jane’s mind and his own cheek whitened.
“hark! it’s coming—it’s coming!” cried the girl. “work—work!”
they did work with a will. there was no need for anybody to urge them. they, also, heard the low rumble of wheels along the distant track, the shiver and tremble of the rails. the heavy ties rolled down—fast and faster. the way was almost clear. there was only one tie left and that—
a man turned to look over his shoulder. “the train! the train! it’s on us!”
the whole gang leaped to safety and waited. the one big timber still lay crosswise above the trestle. it meant destruction. they knew it, mary jane knew it. they could not move; but she could. that menacing log should not destroy!
ah! but those long, strong, useful arms of hers stood her in good stead just then. all the strength of her body was in them. the crutches went, she knew not where. she was lying flat, forcing, pushing, compelling that last tie down, over the edge. the train was almost there. she knew that, also, but she felt no fear. she must do her task—she must—she could!
the men on the bank watched breathless, but not one went to her aid. even william bump seemed stricken to stone.
there came a crash. the log was over—the track was clear!
but where was mary jane?
as he rounded the curve just before the trestle the engineer had seen the child upon the track, but though he instantly reversed his engine the train could not be brought to a stand-still till it had quite crossed the openwork space, and he stepped down from it with horror in his heart.
a horror which quickly changed to a shout of joy, though the peril was yet not over.
again these long, strong arms had done their owner good service. as the train came upon the trestle she slipped down and dropped between the ties, clinging to one for her life. she scarcely heard now that rumble and roar above her; all her consciousness was fixed in the clutch of her fingers upon that cross-beam.
it was the gray gentleman who first reached the spot and prostrating himself upon the roadbed reached down to clasp her arms and draw her up to safety.
“you precious child! you heroine!”
she opened her eyes at that, gave him one radiant smile, and promptly fainted away. which, she afterward declared, was a very foolish thing for a sensible girl to do.
she as promptly revived, however, and there was bonny-gay hugging and thanking her, but not saying good-by, at all! and there was mrs. mcclure, that proud and dignified lady, snatching the crooked little figure from the gray gentleman’s arms, to enfold it in her own and to weep and cry over it in the most astonishing fashion.
“oh! you darling, darling child! you’ve saved our lives, saved bonny-gay, who’s more than life to us. little did i guess how noble you are. nobler, mary jane, than anybody i ever knew.”
it was like a dream. the people, all the passengers and trainmen, crowding round to thank and bless the little hunchback, who now rested in her own father’s arms, while he beamed upon her, proud and happy, but with soul-cleansing tears streaming down his softened face. and there was mr. mcclure, laying his hand kindly upon william bump’s shoulder and begging:
“for any injustice i’ve done you, for any injustice you’ve done me, let this hour make amends. as man to man—trust me, william bump.”
“aye, boss. i will, i will and the poor man looked into the face of the rich man and behold! it was as that of a brother.”
“what’s all this to-do?” cried mrs. stebbins, to mrs. bump. “the express has stopped and there’s a crowd of people coming this way.”
“i don’t know, i’m sure. i just heard the train go by. i hope nothing’s wrong.”
“not wrong, sure. the men are tossing their hats and cheering and the women—they’re laughing and talking like they’d struck a gold mine. they’re headed this way.”
but mrs. bump was too busy to look. she had a lot of clear-starching to do and she was engaged in a new, therefore interesting, task; she was teaching polly to sing a hymn!
“yes, you smart bird. if you can talk crab-man’s talk, that always sounds sort of wicked, though, of course, it isn’t, you can learn better things just as easy.”
“so i can, so i can. tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth,” answered polly.
“oh! i’m telling it, never fear. learn it you shall. now begin—”
but the lesson was interrupted. the voices of the crowd were near at hand; were at the door; were in the very room! what did it mean? william was placing mary jane in her mother’s arms, as if she had been the baby himself—helpful mary jane! and mrs. mcclure was clasping mrs. bump’s neck, and sobbing and laughing on her shoulder.
everybody was talking at once, but suddenly somebody cleared a space and placed a chair behind the startled mistress of the house. she sank into it gratefully, her knees now trembling too much to support her. but the facts had penetrated to her consciousness, at last, and with a cry that hushed all speech of others, she held her precious “sunday bairn” to her heart with a thankfulness beyond words.
suddenly, upon this sacred silence, there fell a voice which seemed neither bird nor human, yet strangely reverent and opportune:
“lord, in the morning thou shalt, thou shalt,
lord, in the morning thou shalt hear
my voice ascending high.”
at this interruption there were some who wept—but none who smiled.
