Part 22 (1/2)

Charley looked away restively, and then caught the eyes of the ghost again, and this time the ghost said:

”And they're going to have you, too.”

I have heard Charley tell of several other visits they made that night; but, as I said before, even a Christmas yarn and a ghost story must not spin itself out, like Banquo's line, to the crack of doom. However true or authentic a story may be--and you can easily verify this by asking any member of the Christmas Club in Huckleberry Street--however true a yarn may be, it must not be so long that it can never be wound up.

The very last of the wretched places they looked in upon was a bare room in a third story. There was a woman sitting on a box in one corner, holding a sick child. A man with golden hair was pacing the floor.

”There's that devil again!” he said, pointing to the blank wall. ”Now he's gone. You see, Carrie, I could quit if I had anybody to help me.

Oh! I heard to night that Charley Vanderhuyn had been elected president of the Hasheesh. And I saw him an hour ago on a Second Avenue car. I wish Charley would come and talk to me. He'd give me money, but 'tain't money. I could make money if I could let whisky alone. I used to love to hear Charley talk better than to live. I believe it was the ruin of me. But he don't seem to care for a fellow when his clothes get shabby.

See there!” and he picked up a piece of wood and threw it at the wall, startling his wife and making the child cry. ”I hit him that time! I wish I could hear Charley Vanderhuyn talk once more. His talk is enough to drive devils away any time. Great G.o.d, what an awful Christmas this is!”

Charley wanted to begin to talk on the spot, but when he found that poor ”Baron Bertram” could neither see him nor hear a word he spoke, he had a fearful sense of being a disembodied spirit. The ghost looked wistfully at him, and said, ”G.o.d and Huckleberry Street want _you_, Charley.”

Charley was very loath to leave Perdue and his wife in this condition; he would have loved dearly to while away the dreary night for them, but he could not speak to them, and the eyes of the ghost bade him follow, and the two went swiftly back to Charley's rooms again.

Then the apparition sat down by the table and fastened its sad and wistful eyes upon the soul of Charley Vanderhuyn. Not a word did it speak. But the look, the old tender, earnest look of Henry Vail, drew Charley's heart into his eyes and made him weep. There Vail sat, still and wistful, until Charley, roused by all that he had seen, resolved to do what he could for Huckleberry Street. He made no communication of his purpose to the ghost. He meant to keep it close in his own breast.

But no sooner had he formed the purpose than a smile--the old familiar smile--came across the face of Vail, the hideous scars of his loathsome disease disappeared, and the face began to s.h.i.+ne, while a faint aureole appeared about his head. And Vanderhuyn became conscious that the room was full of other mysterious beings. And to his regret Vail ceased now to regard his friend any more, but looked about him at the Huckleberry Street angels, who seemed to be pulling him away. He and they vanished slowly, and on the wall there shone some faint luminous letters, which Vanderhuyn tried to read, but the light of the Christmas dawn disturbed his vision, and he was able to see only the latter part, and even that was not clear to his eyes, but he partly read and partly remembered the words, ”When ye fail on earth they may receive you into everlasting habitations.”

He rang for his servant, had the fire replenished, opened his desk and began to write letters. First he resigned the presidency of the Hasheesh Club. Next he begged that Mrs. Rear-Admiral Albatross would excuse him from her Christmas dinner. Unforeseen circ.u.mstances, and the death of an intimate friend, were his apologies. Then he sent his regrets, and declined all the invitations to holiday parties. He canceled his engagements to make New-Year's calls[4] in company with Bird, the painter. Then he had breakfast, ordered his carriage, and drove to Huckleberry Street. On the way down he debated what he should do. He couldn't follow in Vail's footsteps. He was not a missionary. He went first and found Perdue, who had been fighting off a threatened attack of tremens all night, relieved the necessities of his family, and took the golden-haired fellow into his carriage. He ordered the coachman to drive the whole length of Huckleberry Street slowly.

[4] The New-Year's call is one of several things alluded to in the text that were in vogue when the story was written, but seem anachronisms in 1893.

”Perdue, what can I do down here? Vail always said that I could do something, if I would try.”

”Why, Charley, start a club. That's what these fellows need. How I should like to hear you talk again!”

IV.

How provoking this is! I thought I should get through with three parts.

But Christmas is a time when a man can not avoid a tendency to long stories. One can not quite control one's self in a time of mirth, and here my history has grown until I shall have to put on a mansard roof to accommodate it. For in all these three parts I have told you about everything but what my t.i.tle promised. If you have ever gone through Huckleberry Street--of course you never have gone through such a street except by accident, since you are neither poor, vicious, nor benevolent, and only the poor, the vicious, and the benevolent ever go there intentionally--but if you have ever happened to go there of late years, you have seen the Christmas Club building. For on that very morning, with poor ”Baron Bertram” in the carriage, Charley resolved to found a club in Huckleberry Street. And what house so good as the one in which Henry Vail had lived?

So he drove up to the house on the corner of Greenfield Court and began to examine it. It was an old-fas.h.i.+oned house; and in its time, when the old families inhabited the downtown streets, it had been an aristocratic mansion. The lower floor was occupied by a butcher's shop, and in the front room, where an old family had once entertained its guests, cheap roasts were being dispensed to the keepers of low boarding houses. The antique fireplace and the ancient mantelpiece were forced to keep company with meat blocks and butchers' cleavers. Above this were Henry Vail's rooms, where the old chambers had been carefully restored; and above these the third story and attic were crowded with tenants. But everywhere the house had traces of its former gentility.

”Good!” said Charley; ”Vail preserved his taste for the antique to the last.”

”Perdue, what do you think of this for a club-house?”

”Just the thing if you can get it. Ten chances to one it belongs to some saloonkeeper who wouldn't rent it for purposes of civilization.”

”Oh, I'll get it! Such men are always susceptible to the influence of money, and I'm sure this is the spot, or Vail wouldn't have chosen it.”

And with that Charley and the delighted Perdue drove to the house of Charley's business agent, the same who had been his father's manager.

”Mr. Johnston,” said Charley, ”I don't like to ask you to work on Christmas, but I want you to find out to-day, if you can, who owns No.

164 Huckleberry Street.”