Part 18 (2/2)

On this occasion Mrs. Farrell had not retired at the usual hour. It was after midnight, yet she was still occupied in a rather hopeless effort to patch Jack's only pair of trousers; for he evinced as remarkable an ability to wear out clothes as any son of a millionaire. The work was tedious and progressed slowly, for her fingers were stiff and the effort of sewing painful. Finally it was finished. With a sigh of relief she rested a moment in her chair. Just then the silence was broken by a peculiar sound, like the cautious s.h.i.+fting of a board. That it proceeded from the cellar was beyond question. A singular rattling followed. She rose, went into the hall and listened. Yes, there was no delusion about it: somebody was at the coal,--that coal which, she remembered bitterly, was now but a small heap in the bin. That the culprit was Stingy Willis there could be little doubt.

Bernard had fallen asleep on the sofa an hour or more before. His mother stole to his side, and in a low voice called him. He stirred uneasily.

She called again, whereupon he opened his eyes and stared at her in bewilderment.

”Hark!” she whispered, signalling to him not to speak.

Once more came the noise, now more distinct and definable. The heartless intruder had become daring; the click of a shovel was discernible; he was evidently helping himself liberally.

Bernard looked at his mother in perplexity and surprise.

”Stingy Willis?” he interrogated.

She nodded.

”And at the coal, by Jove!” he exclaimed, suddenly realizing the situation, and now wide awake.

He started up, and presently was creeping down the stairs to the kitchen.

Mrs. Farrell heard him open the cellar door with the least possible creak. She knew he was on the steps which led below, but he made no further sound. She had no other clue to his movements, and could only distinguish the rumble of the coal. She waited, expecting momentarily that it would cease, dreading the altercation which would follow, and regretting she had aroused her son.

”He is quick-tempered,” she soliloquized. ”What if words should lead to blows,--if he should strike the old man! How foolish I was to let him go alone!”

The suspense was ominous. What was the boy going to do? Why all this delay? Why did he not promptly confront the fellow and order him to be gone? In reality, only a few minutes had elapsed since she first heard the noise, but it seemed a quarter of an hour even since he left her.

Should she go down herself, or call out to him? While she hesitated Bernard suddenly reappeared. She leaned over the banisters to question him; but, with a gesture imploring her to be silent, the astonished boy said, hardly above his breath: ”Mother, come here!”

Cautiously she descended to the entry. He led her through the kitchen to the cellar steps. All the time the shovelling continued. Whispering ”Don't be afraid,” Bernard blew out the candle he carried, and, taking her hand, added: ”Look!”

From the corner of the cellar in which the coal-bin was situated came the light of a lantern. Crouching down, Mrs. Farrell could see that it proceeded from a hole in the wall which separated the two houses. There was no one upon her premises, after all; but at the other side of the part.i.tion was Stingy Willis, sure enough! Through the opening she could just catch a glimpse of his grey head and thin, sharp features.

Trembling with indignation, she peered forward to get a better view.

Yes, there was Stingy Willis certainly; but--oh, for the charity, the neighborliness which ”thinketh no evil!”--he was shovelling coal from his own _into_ the Farrells' bin! As this fact dawned upon her she felt as if she would like to go through the floor for shame. Drawing back abruptly, she groped her way to the kitchen, and sank into a chair, quite overcome by emotion. Bernard, having relighted the candle, stood gazing at her with an abashed air. In a moment or two the shovelling ceased, and they could hear the old man, totally unconscious of the witnesses to his good deed, slowly ascending to his cheerless rooms again.

Stingy Willis alone had discovered their need. With a delicacy which respected their reticence, and shrank from an offer of aid which might offend, he had hit upon this means of helping them. Clearly, he had been thus surrept.i.tiously supplying them with fuel for weeks,--a little at a time, to avoid discovery. And Mrs. Farrell, in her anxiety and preoccupation, had not realized that, with the steady inroads made upon it, a ton of coal could not possibly last so long.

”That, of all people, Stingy Willis should be the one to come to our a.s.sistance!” exclaimed the widow.

”And to think he is not _Stingy_ Willis at all! That is the most wonderful part of it!” responded Bernard.

”Often lately,” continued the former, ”when I happened to meet him going in or out, I fancied that his keen old eyes darted a penetrating glance at me; and the fear that they would detect the poverty we were trying to hide so irritated me that sometimes I even pretended not to hear his gruff 'Good-morning!'”

”Well, he's a right jolly fellow!” cried Bernard, enthusiastically,

His mother smiled. The adjective was ludicrously inappropriate, but she understood Bernard's meaning, and appreciated his feelings as he went on:

”Yes, I'll never let anybody say a word against him in my hearing after this, and I'll declare I have proof positive that he's no miser.”

”He is a n.o.ble-hearted man certainly,” said Mrs. Farrell. ”I wish we knew more about him. But, for one thing, Bernard, this experience has taught us to beware of rash judgments; to look for the jewels, not the flaws, in the character of our neighbor.”

”Yes, indeed, mother,” replied the youth, decidedly. ”You may be sure that in future I'll try to see what is best in everyone.”

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