Part 25 (1/2)

It was very early the next morning when the household awoke. By seven o'clock a two-seated carryall was drawn up to the side-door, and by a quarter past the carryall, bearing Jennie, Frank, the boys, and the lunch baskets, rumbled out of the yard and on to the highway.

”Now, keep quiet and don't get heated, mother,” cautioned Jennie, looking back at the little gray-haired woman standing all alone on the side veranda.

”Find a good cool spot to smoke your pipe in, father,” called Frank, as an old man appeared in the doorway.

There followed a shout, a clatter, and a cloud of dust--then silence.

Fifteen minutes later, hand in hand, a little old man and a little old woman walked down the white road together.

To most of the pa.s.sengers on the trolley-car that day the trip was merely a necessary means to an end; to the old couple on the front seat it was something to be remembered and lived over all their lives. Even at the Junction the spell of unreality was so potent that the man forgot things so trivial as tickets, and marched into the car with head erect and eyes fixed straight ahead.

It was after Hezekiah had taken out the roll of bills--all ones--to pay the fares to the conductor that a young man in a tall hat sauntered down the aisle and dropped into the seat in front.

”Going to Boston, I take it,” said the young man genially.

”Yes, sir,” replied Hezehiah, no less genially. ”Ye guessed right the first time.”

Abigail lifted a cautious hand to her hair and her bonnet. So handsome and well-dressed a man would notice the slightest thing awry, she thought.

”Hm-m,” smiled the stranger. ”I was so successful that time, suppose I try my luck again.--You don't go every day, I fancy, eh?”

”Sugar! How'd he know that, now?” chuckled Hezekiah, turning to his wife in open glee. ”So we don't, stranger, so we don't,” he added, turning back to the man. ”Ye hit it plumb right.”

”Hm-m! great place, Boston,” observed the stranger. ”I'm glad you're going. I think you'll enjoy it.”

The two wrinkled old faces before him fairly beamed.

”I thank ye, sir,” said Hezekiah heartily. ”I call that mighty kind of ye, specially as there are them that thinks we're too old ter be enj'yin' of anythin'.”

”Old? Of course you're not too old! Why, you're just in the prime to enjoy things,” cried the handsome man, and in the suns.h.i.+ne of his dazzling smile the hearts of the little old man and woman quite melted within them.

”Thank ye, sir, thank ye sir,” nodded Abigail, while Hezekiah offered his hand.

”Shake, stranger, shake! An' I ain't too old, an' I'm agoin' ter prove it. I've got money, sir, heaps of it, an' I'm goin' ter spend it--mebbe I'll spend it all. We're agoin' ter see Bunker Hill an' Faneuil Hall, an' we're agoin' ter ride in the subway. Now, don't tell me we don't know how ter enj'y ourselves!”

It was a very simple matter after that. On the one hand were infinite tact and skill; on the other, innocence, ignorance, and an overwhelming grat.i.tude for this sympathetic companions.h.i.+p.

Long before Boston was reached Mr. and Mrs. Warden and ”Mr. Livingstone”

were on the best of terms, and when they separated at the foot of the car-steps, to the old man and woman it seemed that half their joy and all their courage went with the smiling man who lifted his hat in farewell before being lost to sight in the crowd.

”There, Abby, we're here!” announced Hezekiah with an exultation that was a little forced. ”Gorry! There must be somethin' goin' on ter-day,”

he added, as he followed the long line of people down the narrow pa.s.sage between the cars.

There was no reply. Abigail's cheeks were pink and her bonnet-strings untied. Her eyes, wide opened and frightened, were fixed on the swaying, bobbing crowds ahead. In the great waiting-room she caught her husband's arm.

”Hezekiah, we can't, we mustn't ter-day,” she whispered. ”There's such a crowd. Let's go home an' come when it's quieter.”

”But, Abby, we--here, let's set down,” Hezekiah finished helplessly.

Near one of the outer doors Mr. Livingstone--better known to his friends and the police as ”Slick Bill”--smiled behind his hand. Not once since he had left them had Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden been out of his sight.