Bishop's Shadow Read online

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  THE BISHOP'S SHADOW

  BY

  I.T. THURSTON

  _Author of "Boys of the Central," "A Genuine Lady" etc._

  WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY M. ECKERSON

  "This learned I from the shadow of a treeThat to and fro did sway upon a wall,Our shadow selves--our influence--may fallWhere we can never be."

  CONTENTS

  I. LOST--A POCKETBOOK

  II. NAN'S NEW HOME

  III. AN ACCIDENT

  IV. TODE MEETS THE BISHOP

  V. IN THE BISHOP'S HOUSE

  VI. TODE'S NEW START

  VII. AFTER TODE'S DEPARTURE

  VIII. THEO'S SHADOW WORK

  IX. THEO IN TROUBLE

  X. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT

  XI. THEO'S NEW BUSINESS

  XII. NAN FINDS FRIENDS

  XIII. NAN'S DEPARTURE

  XIV. THEODORE GIVES CARROTS A CHANCE

  XV. A STRIKE

  XVI. CALLED TO GO UP HIGHER

  XVII. FINAL GLIMPSES

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  THEODORE BRYAN, SIGN-POLISHER

  "HE'S AWAKIN' UP, I GUESS"

  ADRIFT AGAIN

  "OH, HOW PRETTY,--HOW PRETTY IT IS!"

  "STOP THE CAR!"

  THANKSGIVING REUNION

  THE BISHOP'S SHADOW

  Theodore Bryan, Sign-Polisher]

  I. LOST--A POCKETBOOK

  It was about ten o'clock in the morning and a northeast storm wasraging in Boston.

  The narrow crooked business streets were slippery with mud andthronged with drays and wagons of every description, which, with thecontinual passing of the street cars, made it a difficult and often adangerous matter to attempt a crossing.

  The rain came in sudden driving sheets, blotting out all but thenearest cars or vehicles, while the wind seemed to lie in wait atevery corner ready to spring forth and wrest umbrellas out of thehands of pedestrians at the most critical points in the crossings.

  Two ladies coming along Causeway street by the Union Depot, waitedsome minutes on the sidewalk watching for an opening in the endlessstream of passing teams.

  "There! We shan't have a better chance than this. Come on now," one ofthem exclaimed, stepping quickly forward as there came a little breakin the moving line. She stepped in front of two cars that had stoppedon parallel tracks and her companion hastily followed her. Just thenthere came a fierce gust that threatened to turn their umbrellasinside out. The lady in front clutched hers nervously and hurriedforward. As she ran past the second car she found herself almost underthe feet of a pair of horses attached to a heavy wagon. The driveryelled angrily at her as he hastily pulled up his team; a policemanshouted warningly and sprang toward her, and her friend stopped shortwith a low cry of terror. But though the pole of the wagon grazed hercheek and the shock threw her almost to the ground, the lady recoveredherself and hurried across to the sidewalk.

  It was then that a little ragged fellow of perhaps thirteen, slippedswiftly under the very feet of the horses, and, unheeding the savageshouts of the driver, wormed his way rapidly through the crowd andvanished. As he did so, the lady who had so narrowly escaped injury,turned to her friend and cried,

  "Oh my pocketbook! I must have dropped it on the crossing."

  "On the crossing, did you say?" questioned the policeman, and as sheassented, he turned hastily back to the street, but the cars and teamshad passed on and others were surging forward and no trace of thepocketbook was visible. The policeman came back and questioned thelady about it, promising to do what he could to recover it.

  "But it's not probable you'll ever see a penny of the money again," hesaid. "Some rascally thief most likely saw ye drop it an' snatched itup."

  The policeman was not mistaken. If he had turned through Tremont andBoylston streets he might have seen a ragged, barefooted boysauntering along with his hands in his pockets, stopping now and thento look into a shop window, yet ever keeping a keenly watchful eye onevery policeman he met. The boy looked as if he had not a penny inthose ragged pockets of his, but one of his grimy hands clutchedtightly the lost pocketbook, which his sharp eyes had seen as it fellbeneath the feet of the horses, and which he had deftly appropriatedas he wriggled through the mud.

  Heedless of wind and rain the boy lounged along the street. It was notoften that he found himself in this section of the city, and it wasmuch less familiar to him than some other localities. He seemed to bewandering aimlessly along, but his restless eyes were on the watch forsome retired spot where he might safely examine his prize and see howmuch money he had secured. For a long time he saw no place that seemedto him a safe one for his purpose, so he went on and on until suddenlyhe realised that he was tired. He was passing a large brownstonechurch at the moment, and he sat down on the steps to rest.

  "My! But this is a gay ol' church!" he thought, as he looked curiouslyat the beautiful building. "Wonder where them steps go to."

  Springing up he ran across the pillared porch to the foot of the stonestairs that led to the upper entrance to the chapel. Following asudden impulse he started hastily up these stairs, his bare feetmaking no sound. At the top of the stairs he found himself shut in ontwo sides by a high stone balustrade, the chapel door forming thethird side. This door was closed. He tried it softly and found itlocked. Then he dropped down in the darkest corner of the landing,and, with eyes and ears still keenly alert, pulled from his pocket themud-stained purse and examined it carefully. He found in it thirty-sixdollars in bills and about a dollar more in silver.

  The boy gave a gleeful, silent laugh. "Struck it rich this time," hesaid to himself.

  He hunted up a crooked pin from somewhere about his dilapidatedgarments, and fastened the roll of bills as securely as he couldinside the lining of his jacket, keeping the silver in his pocket.Then he again examined the book to be sure that he had overlookednothing. On the inside of the leather was the name,

  "R. A. RUSSELL,"

  and there was also a card bearing the same name and an address. Thecard he tore into tiny bits and chewed into a pellet which he tossedover the stone balustrade. Then, with the pocketbook in his hand, helooked about him. There was a pastor's box fastened beside thedoor. He crowded the telltale book through the opening in the top ofthis box, and then with a satisfied air ran blithely down the stonesteps. But he stopped short as he came face to face with the sextonwho was just crossing the porch.

  "Here, you! Where've you been? What you been up to?" cried the man,clutching at him angrily, but the boy was too quick.

  He ducked suddenly, slipped under the sexton's hands and darted acrossthe porch and down the steps. Then he stopped to call back,

  "Be'n makin' 'rangements ter preach fer ye here next Sunday--yah!yah!" and with a mocking laugh he disappeared leaving the sextonshaking his fist in impotent wrath.

  The boy ran swiftly on until he had gotten quite a distance from thechurch; then he slackened his pace and began to plan what he should donext. The sight of a confectioner's window reminded him that he washungry, and he went into the store and bought two tarts which he ateas he walked on. After that he bought a quart of peanuts, two bananasand a piece of mince-pie, and having disposed of all these he felthungry no longer.

  Having in his possession what seemed to him a small fortune, he saw nonecessity for working, so that night he did not go as usual to thenewspaper office for the evening papers, but spent his time loafingaround the busiest corners and watching all that went on about thestreets. This unusual conduct attracted the attention of his cronies,and a number of newsboys gathered about him trying to find out thereason of his strange idleness.

  "I say, Tode," called one,
"why ain't ye gettin' yer papers?"

  "Aw, he's come into a fortune, he has," put in another. "His richuncle's come home an' 'dopted him."

  "Naw, he's married Vanderbilt's daughter," sneered a third.

  "Say, now, Tode, tell us w'at's up," whispered one, sidling up tohim. "Hev ye swiped somethin'?"

  Tode tried to put on an expression of injured innocence, but his faceflushed as he answered, shortly,

  "Come, hush yer noise, will ye! Can't a chap lay off fer one day'thout all the town pitchin' inter him? I made a dollar extry thismornin'--that's all the' is about it," and stuffing his hands into hispockets he marched off to avoid further comment.

  For the next week Tode "lived high" as he expressed it. He had fromthree to six meals a day and an unlimited amount of pie and peanutsbesides, but after all he was not particularly happy. Time hung heavyon his hands sometimes--the more so as the boys, resenting his livingin luxurious idleness, held aloof, and would have nothing to do withhim. He had been quite a leader among them, and it galled him to be soleft out and ignored. He began to think that he should not be sorrywhen his ill-gotten money was gone. He was thinking after this fashionone day as he strolled aimlessly down a side street. It was a quietstreet where at that hour there was little passing, and Tode loungedalong with his hands in his pockets until he came to a place where thesidewalk was littered with building material and where a large housewas in course of construction. Perhaps the workmen were on a strikethat day. At any rate none of them were about, and the boy sprang uponto a barrel that was standing near the curbstone, and sat theredrumming on the head with two pieces of lath and whistling a livelyair.

  After a little his whistle ceased and he looked up and down the streetwith a yawn, saying to himself,

  "Gay ol' street, this is! Looks like everybody's dead or asleep."

  But even as he spoke a girl came hastily around the nearest corner andhurried toward him. She looked about fourteen. Her clothes were wornand shabby but they were clean, and in her arms she carried a babywrapped in a shawl. She stopped beside Tode and looked at him withimploring eyes.

  "Oh can't you help me to hide somewhere? Do! Do!" she cried, with aworld of entreaty in her voice.

  The boy glanced at her coolly.

  "What ye want ter hide for? Been swipin' somethin'?" he questioned,carelessly.

  The girl flashed at him an indignant glance, then cast a quick,frightened one behind her.

  "No, no!" she exclaimed, earnestly. "I'm no thief. I'm running awayfrom old Mary Leary. She's most killed my little brother giving himwhiskey so's to make him look sick when she takes him outbegging. Look here!"

  She lifted the shawl that was wrapped about the child. Tode leanedover and looked at the little face. It was a pitiful little face--sowhite and thin, with sunken eyes and blue lips--so pitiful that ittouched even Tode's heart, that was not easily touched.

  "The ol' woman after ye?" he asked, springing down from the barrel.

  "Yes, yes! Oh, do help me," pleaded the girl, the tears running downher cheeks as she gazed at the baby face. "I'm afraid he's going todie."

  The boy cast a quick glance about him.

  "Here!" he exclaimed, "squat down an' I'll turn this over ye."

  He seized a big empty barrel that stood near. Without a word the girlslipped to the ground and he turned the barrel over her, kicking underthe edge a bit of wood to give air. The next moment he stooped down tothe opening and whispered,

  "Hi! The ol' lady's a comin'. Don't ye peep. I'll fix her!"

  Then he reseated himself again on the barrelhead and began to drum andwhistle as before, apparently paying no heed to the woman who camealong scolding and swearing, with half a dozen street childrenfollowing at her heels. She came nearer and nearer but Tode drummed onand whistled unconcernedly until she stopped before him and exclaimedharshly,

  "You boy--have you seen a girl go by here, with a baby?"

  "Nope," replied Tode, briefly.

  "How long you be'n settin' here?"

  "'Bout two weeks," answered the boy, gravely.

  The woman stormed and blustered, but finding that this made noimpression she changed her tactics and began in a wheedling tone,

  "Now, dearie, you'll help an ol' woman find her baby, won't ye? It'sheartbroke I am for my pretty darlin' an' that girl has carried himoff. Tell me, dearie, did they go this way?"

  "I d' know nothin' 'bout yer gal," exclaimed Tode. "Why don't ye scoot'round an' find her 'f she's cleared out?"

  "An' ain't I huntin' her this blessed minute?" shrieked the woman,angrily. "I b'lieve ye _have_ seen her. Like's not ye've hid heraway somewheres."

  Tode turned away from her and resumed his drumming while the womancast a suspicious glance at the unfinished building.

  "She may be there," she muttered and began searching through the pilesof building material on the ground floor.

  "Hope she'll break her ol' neck!" thought Tode, vengefully, as hewhistled with fresh vigor.

  The woman reappeared presently, and casting a threatening glance and atorrent of bad language at the boy, went lumbering heavily down thestreet with the crowd of noisy, curious children straggling alongbehind her.

  When they had all disappeared around the corner of the street, Todesprang down and putting his mouth to the opening at the bottom of thebarrel whispered hastily,

  "Keep still 'til I see if she's gone sure," and he raced up to thecorner where he watched until the woman was out of sight. Then he ranback and lifted the barrel off, saying,

  "It's all right--she's gone, sure 'nough."

  The girl cast an anxious glance up and down the street as she sprangup.

  "Oh dear!" she exclaimed. "I don't know where to go!" and Tode sawthat her eyes were full of tears.

  He looked at her curiously.

  "Might go down t' the wharf. Ol' woman wouldn't be likely ter gothere, would she?" he suggested.

  "I don't think so. I've never been there," replied the girl. "Whichway is it?"

  "Come on--I'll show ye;" and Tode set off at a rapid pace.

  The girl followed as fast as she could, but the child was a limpweight in her arms and she soon began to lag behind and breatheheavily. "What's the matter? Why don't ye hurry up?" exclaimed theboy with an impatient backward glance.

  "I--can't. He's so--heavy," panted the girl breathlessly.

  Tode did not offer to take the child. He only put his hands in hispockets and waited for her, and then went on more slowly.

  When they reached the wharf, he led the way to a quiet corner wherethe girl dropped down with a sigh of relief and weariness, while heleaned against a post and looked down at her. Presently he remarked,

  "What's yer name?"

  "Nan Hastings," replied the girl.

  "How'd she get hold o' ye?" pursued the boy, with a backward jerk ofhis thumb that Nan rightly concluded was meant to indicate the Learywoman.

  She answered slowly, "It was when mother died. We had a nice home. Wewere not poor folks. My father was an engineer, and he was killed inan accident before Little Brother was born, and that almost brokemother's heart. After the baby came she was sick all the time and shecouldn't work much, and so we used up all the money we had, and mothergot sicker and at last she told me she was going to die." The girl'svoice trembled and she was silent for a moment; then she went on, "Shemade me kneel down by the bed and promise her that I would always takecare of Little Brother and bring him up to be a _good_ man asfather was. I promised, and I am going to do it."

  The girl spoke earnestly with the light of a solemn purpose in herdark eyes.

  Tode began to be interested. "And she died?" he prompted.

  "Yes, she died. She wrote to some of her relatives before she diedasking them to help Little Brother and me, but there was no answer tothe letter, and after she died all our furniture was sold to pay thedoctor and the funeral bills. The doctor wanted to send us to anorphan asylum, but Mary Leary had worked for us, and she told me thatif we went to an asylu
m they would take Little Brother away from meand I'd never see him any more, and she said if I'd go home with hershe'd find me a place to work and I could keep the baby. So I wenthome with her. It was a horrid place"--Nan shuddered--"and I found outpretty soon that she drank whiskey, but I hadn't any other place togo, so I had to stay there, but lately she's been taking the baby outevery day and he's been growing so pale and sick-looking, andyesterday I caught her giving him whiskey, and then I knew she did itto make him look sick so that she would get more money when she wentout begging with him."

  "An' so you cut an' run?" put in Tode, as the girl paused.

  "He's awakin' up, I guess."]

  "Yes--and I'll _never_ go back to her, but--I don't know what I_can_ do. Do you know any place where I can stay and work forLittle Brother?"

  The dark eyes looked up into the boy's face with a wistful, pleadingglance, as the girl spoke.

  "I'd know no place," replied Tode, shrugging his shoulderscarelessly. He did not feel called upon to help this girl. Todeconsidered girls entirely unnecessary evils.

  Nan looked disappointed, but she said no more.

  "He's wakin' up, I guess," remarked Tode, glancing at the baby.

  The little thing stirred uneasily, and then the heavy, blue-veinedlids were lifted slowly, and a pair of big innocent blue eyes lookedstraight into Tode's. A long, steadfast, unchildlike look it was, alook that somehow held the boy's eyes in spite of himself, and then afaint, tremulous smile quivered over the pale lips, and the baby handswere lifted to the boy.

  That look and smile had a strange, a wonderful effect onTode. Something seemed to spring into life in his heart in thatinstant. Up to this hour he had never known what love was, for he hadnever loved any human being, but as he gazed into the pure depths ofthose blue eyes and saw the baby fingers flutter feebly toward him,his heart went out in love to the child, and he held out his arms totake him.

  Nan hesitated, with a quick glance at Tode's dirty hands and garments,but he cried imperiously,

  "Give him here. He wants to come to me," and she allowed him to takethe child from her arms. As he felt himself lifted in that stronggrasp, Little Brother smiled again, and nestled with a long breath ofcontent against Tode's dirty jacket.

  "See--he likes me!" cried the boy, his face all aglow with thestrange, sweet delight that possessed him. He sat still holding thechild, afraid to move lest he disturb his charge, but in a few minutesthe baby began to fret.

  "What's he want?" questioned Tode, anxiously.

  Nan looked distressed. "I'm afraid he's hungry," she replied. "Ohdear, what _shall_ I do!"

  She seemed ready to cry herself, but Tode sprang up.

  "You come along," he exclaimed, briefly, and he started off with thechild still in his arms, and Nan followed wonderingly. She shrank backas he pushed open the door of a restaurant, but Tode went in and aftera moment's hesitation, she followed.

  "What'll he take--some beef?" inquired the boy.

  "Oh no!" cried Nan, hastily, "some bread and milk will be best forhim."

  "All right. Here you--bring us a quart o' milk an' a loaf o' bread,"called Tode, sharply, to a waiter.

  When these were brought he added, "Now fetch on a steak an' a oysterstew."

  Then he turned with a puzzled look to Nan. "How does he take it? D'yepour it down his throat?" he asked.

  "No, no!" cried Nan, hastily, as he seized the bowl of milk. "You mustfeed it to him with a spoon."

  "All right!" and utterly regardless of the grinning waiters Tode beganto feed the baby, depositing quite as much in his neck as in hismouth, while Nan looked on, longing to take the matter into her ownhands, but afraid to interfere. Suddenly Tode glanced at her.

  "Why don't ye eat?" he said, with a gesture toward the food on thetable. The girl coloured and drew back.

  "Oh I can't," she exclaimed, hastily, "I ain't--I don't wantanything."

  "Ain't ye hungry?" demanded Tode in a masterful tone.

  "N--not much," stammered Nan, but the boy saw a hungry gleam in hereyes as she glanced at the food.

  "Y'are, too! Now you jest put that out o' sight in a hurry!"

  But Nan shook her head. "I'm no beggar," she said, proudly, "and sometime I'm going to pay you for that," and she pointed to the bowl ofbread and milk.

  "Shucks!" exclaimed the boy. "See here! I've ordered that stuff an'I'll have it to pay for anyhow, so you might's well eat it. _I_don't want it," and he devoted himself again to the child.

  Nan turned her head resolutely away, but she was so hungry and thefood did smell so good that she could not resist it. She tasted theoysters and in three minutes the bowl was empty, and a good bit of thesteak had disappeared before she pushed aside her plate.

  "Thank you," she said, gratefully. "It did taste _so_ good!"

  "Huh!" grunted Tode. This was the first time in his life that anybodyhad said "thank you" to him.

  He handed the baby over to Nan and, though he had said he was nothungry, finished the steak and a big piece of pie in addition and thenthe three left the restaurant.