Part 5 (1/2)

Hamilton appeared. She was closely followed by Mr. Jones, the good-natured janitor, who lifted Jack in his strong arms and carried him downstairs as easily as if he had been a baby. Mrs. Randall accompanied the party to the sidewalk, and stood by, watching anxiously while the little cripple was placed carefully and tenderly on the seat of the comfortable carriage Mrs. Hamilton had procured. She looked so sad and wistful that kind Mrs. Hamilton longed to ask her to take her place in the carriage, but dared not, lest in doing so she might arouse her neighbor's sensitive pride.

At last all was ready, Mrs. Hamilton and the two little girls were in their places, and the carriage moved slowly away from the door.

”Good-bye, mother, dear,” cried Jack, waving his thin little hand as he leaned comfortably back among his pillows; ”I'm having such a lovely, lovely time.”

There were tears in Mrs. Randall's dark eyes as she turned away, and when she had gone back to her own rooms, instead of at once settling down to her afternoon's sewing, she threw herself wearily upon Jack's sofa and buried her face in the pillows with a sob.

What a drive that was! I don't think any one of those four people will ever forget it.

”It was one of the loveliest experiences I ever had in my life, Phil,”

Mrs. Hamilton told her husband that evening with tears in her eyes. ”To see that dear little fellow's wonder and delight over the very simplest things was enough to make one ashamed of ever having been dissatisfied with one's lot or discontented about anything. I never before in my life saw any one so perfectly happy.”

It was pretty to see the devotion of the two little girls to the poor crippled boy.

”Are you quite sure you're comfortable, Jack?” Winifred kept asking over and over again, while Betty looked anxiously into her brother's radiant face to make sure he was not getting tired.

It was a glorious spring afternoon, and the park had never looked more lovely. How Jack enjoyed it no words could describe.

”I don't believe mother's park was any more beautiful than this one,” he said to Betty, as, in answer to a direction from Mrs. Hamilton the coachman turned the horses to go round a second time. ”I haven't seen any deer, but there are sheep and swans.”

”Where's your mother's park?” Winifred inquired, with pardonable curiosity.

Betty blushed and gave her brother a warning glance. Jack looked as if he had said something he was sorry for.

”It's a story mother tells us,” he explained, ”about a park she used to see when she lived in England. It was a beautiful park, and we love to hear about it.”

”My friend Lulu Bell's father and mother used to live in England,” said Winifred, ”and she went there with them once for a visit. Did you ever live there?”

”No,” answered Betty, Jack's attention having been called off for the moment by the sight of some new wonder, ”father and mother came to this country before we were born.”

”Has your father been long dead, dear?” Mrs. Hamilton asked kindly.

”He died six years ago, when I was only five. I don't remember him very well, and Jack doesn't remember him at all. Oh, Jack, look at that carriage without any horses. That's an automobile.”

It was nearly five o'clock before the carriage again drew up before the door of the big apartment house, and Mr. Jones came out and once more lifted Jack in his arms to carry him upstairs.

There was a tinge of bright color on the little boy's usually pale cheeks and his eyes were s.h.i.+ning.

”I've had the most beautiful time I ever had in my life,” he said, turning to Mrs. Hamilton with a radiant smile. ”You've been so very kind, and so has Winifred, and--and, please, I'd like to kiss you both.”

CHAPTER IV

GATHERING CLOUDS

”Oh, dear! I do wish it would stop raining,” sighed Betty, glancing out of the window one wet afternoon a few days later. ”It's rained just as hard as it can for two whole days, and it doesn't look a bit more like clearing now than it did yesterday morning.”

”I hope mother won't take any more cold,” said Jack, rather anxiously, pausing in his task of endeavoring to draw a sketch from memory of an automobile. ”She coughed dreadfully last night; it woke me up. I wish she didn't have to go out on rainy days.”