Part 48 (1/2)

”Can you ever get back behind, sir?”

”Behind what?” Dr. Lavendar asked. He was looking at David and wondering what was different about the child; he did not have quite his usual aspect. ”I must have left off some of his clothes,” Dr.

Lavendar thought anxiously, and that question about getting back behind suggested b.u.t.tons. ”Are your braces fastened?” he asked.

”And do it over again,” David said. ”Is there any way you can get back behind, and do it over again?”

”Do what over again?” Dr. Lavendar said. ”If they've come unfastened-- ”

”I don't like sleeping,” said David. ”If I could get behind again, I wouldn't.”

Dr. Lavendar gave it up, but he fumbled under David's little coat and discovered that the b.u.t.tons were all right. ”There seems to be something different about you, David,” he said, as they pushed their chairs from the table. David had no explanation to offer, so Dr.

Lavendar consulted the waitress: ”Is there anything wrong about this little boy's clothing? He doesn't look just right--”

”I guess he hasn't had his hair brushed, sir,” said the smiling young woman, and carried the child off to some lair of her own, whence he emerged in his usual order.

”Thank you, my dear,” said Dr. Lavendar. He took David's hand, and out they stepped into the world! For a moment they stood still on the sidewalk to get their breaths in the rush and jostle of the crowd that surged along the street; a simple, happy pair--an old man in a blue m.u.f.fler and broad-brimmed felt hat, a child in a little surtout and visored cap. David gripped Dr. Lavendar's hand tight, and looked up into his face; its smile beaming upon all these hurrying people, rea.s.sured the child, and he paced along beside the old gentleman in grave content. They stopped at the first shop-window, and gazed at a row of fish bedded in ice--beautiful iridescent mackerel, fat red pompoms, and in the middle, in a nest of seaweed, green-black creatures, with great claws that ended in pincers and eyes that looked like pegs stuck into their heads. David stared, open-mouthed; then he put a hand into his pocket.

”How much would one cost, sir?”

”I don't know,” said Dr. Lavendar.

”I think I will buy one, and take it home and keep it in a cage.”

At which Dr. Lavendar said gravely, that he feared the creatures would not be happy in a cage--”And besides, people eat them, David.”

David was silent; then, in a suppressed voice, he said, ”Are they happy when people eat them? I think they'd rather be in a cage; I would hang it in my window.”

But Dr. Lavendar only said, ”Dear me! What have we here?” and drew him to the next shop, at the door of which stood a wooden Indian, a tomahawk in one hand, and a cigar-box in the other. Dr. Lavendar bade David wait outside while he went into this shop, which the little boy was perfectly willing to do, for it isn't every day you get the chance to examine a wooden Indian, even to climbing up on his pedestal and feeling his tomahawk with respectful fingers. When Dr. Lavendar came out, David took his kind old hand, and burst into confidences.

”When I'm big I'm going to fight Indians. Or else I'll drive fast horses. I don't know which. It's hard to decide, ain't it, sir?”

”Very hard. If you choose the horses, I'll give you Goliath.”

David was silent; then he sighed: ”I guess I'll fight Indians, sir,”

he said.

But a moment later he was cheerfully confidential; he had thirty cents to spend! ”Dear, dear,” said Dr. Lavendar, ”we mustn't do anything rash. Here, let's look in this window.”

Oh, how many windows there were, and all of them full of beautiful things! Dr. Lavendar was willing to stop at every one; and he joined in David's game of ”mine,” with the seriousness that all thoughtful persons give to this diversion.

”That's _mine!_” David would cry, pointing to a green china toad behind the plate gla.s.s; and Dr. Lavendar would say gravely,

”You may have it, David; you may have it.”

”Now it's your turn!” David would instruct him.

”Must I take something in this window?” Dr. Lavendar would plead. And David always said firmly that he must. ”Well, then, that's mine,” Dr.

Lavendar would say.

”Why, that's only a teacup! We have thousands of them at our house!”