Bishop's Shadow Read online

  X. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT

  Theodore was still unconscious when he was lifted into the ambulancethe night before, but on the way to the hospital he opened his eyes,wondering much to find himself flat on his back and being drivenrapidly through the streets. In a few minutes he remembered what hadhappened, and guessed that he must have been stunned by a blow or afall. As he reached this conclusion, the vehicle stopped, and he waslifted out and carried into the hospital in spite of his protests. Hehad a dread of entering a hospital as a patient, and he wanted to gohome.

  But the doctors would not allow him to go home. They told him that ifhe would be quiet and do as they said, he would probably be able to gohome the next morning, and with this promise he was obliged to becontent, and allow himself to be undressed and put to bed. He wasbadly bruised and his right shoulder was very lame, but there was noserious injury, and it seemed to the boy very trying to be compelledto spend the night where he was. He did not sleep much, partly becauseof his strange surroundings, and partly because of his aching head andshoulder, and as he lay there in the dimly-lighted ward, his thoughtswere busy.

  A hot anger burned in his heart as he recalled the cowardly attack inthe dark alley. He saw that it had been deliberately planned by DickHunt, and that the four boys must have followed him from the cornerwhere he saw them.

  "I'll pay that Dick Hunt for this," he muttered under his breath, "an'Carrots, too. I know the chap that hit so hard was Carrots. I'll make'em suffer for it!"

  He lay there, his eyes flashing and his cheeks burning, as he thoughtover various schemes of vengeance. Then suddenly he thought of Mr.Scott, and that brought something else to his remembrance. He seemedto see his teacher holding out his little Bible and makinghim--Theodore--read aloud those two verses:

  "Dearly beloved avenge not yourselves."

  And "Recompense to no man evil for evil."

  As he repeated these words to himself, the fire died slowly out of theboy's eyes and the angry colour faded from his cheeks. He turnedrestlessly in his bed and tried to banish these thoughts and bringback his schemes of vengeance, but he could not do it. He knew whatwas the right--what he ought to do--but he was not willing to do it.Hour after hour he argued the matter with himself, finding all sortsof reasons why, in this case, he might take vengeance into his ownhands and "learn that Dick Hunt a lesson," yet feeling and knowing inthe depths of his heart that whatever the old Tode Bryan might havedone, Theodore Bryan, who was trying to be the bishop's shadow,certainly had no right to do evil to somebody else simply because thatsomebody had done evil to him.

  It was nearly morning before the long battle with himself was over,but it ended at last, and it was Theodore, and not Tode who wasvictorious, and it was the memory of the bishop's face, and of thebishop's prayer that day in the poorhouse, that finally settled thematter.

  "He'd fight for somebody else, the bishop would, but he wouldn't everfight for himself, an' I mustn't neither," the boy murmured, softly,and then with a long breath he turned his face to the wall and fellasleep, and he had but just awakened from that sleep when Mr. Scott,with Tag under his arm, came through the long corridor to the wardwhere Theodore was lying in the very last cot, next the wall.

  Mr. Scott had promised not to let the dog out of his arms, but if hehad been better acquainted with Tag he would never have made such arash promise. As the gentleman followed the nurse into the ward, thedog's eyes flashed a swift glance over the long line of cots, and thenext instant something dark went flying down the room and up on tothat last cot in the row, and there was Tag licking his master's faceand hands, and wagging his tail, and barking like mad.

  "Dear me!" exclaimed the nurse, running toward the corner. "This willnever do. He'll drive the patients into fits! Why didn't you keep holdof him?"

  She threw the question back in a reproachful tone to Mr. Scott.

  He laughed a little as he answered, "If you will try to pick him upnow and hold him, you will understand why."

  Even as he spoke, the nurse was making an attempt to capture andsilence the noisy little fellow. She might as well have tried to pickup a ball of quicksilver. Tag slipped through her fingers like an eel,scurrying from one end of the cot to the other, and barking excitedlyall the time.

  "Can't you stop him, Theodore?" exclaimed Mr. Scott, as he reached thecorner where the boy lay.

  "Here, Tag, lie down and be still," cried the boy, and with one lastdefiant yap at the nurse, Tag nosed aside the bedclothes and snuggleddown beside his master with a sigh of glad content.

  "Well, if ever I let a dog into _my_ ward again!" exclaimed thenurse, in a tone of stern determination.

  "I'm sorry he made such a noise, ma'am. It was only because he was soglad to find me," said Theodore, quickly.

  The nurse turned away in offended silence, and Mr. Scott sat down bythe bed and began to talk with the boy.

  He listened with a grave face to Theo's story. When it was ended, heasked, "Did you recognise either of the boys?"

  "Yes, sir; one, certainly, and I think I know one of the others."

  "Well?" said the teacher, inquiringly.

  Theodore hesitated a moment, then answered in a low tone, "You 'memberthem verses you showed me that first Sunday, Mr. Scott?"

  The gentleman smiled down into the sober, boyish face. "I remember,"he replied, "but, Theo, this is a grave matter. To beat a boy until heis unconscious, and then leave him to live or die, is a crime. Suchboys ought not to be shielded."

  "Mr. Scott, I had an awful time over that last night," answered theboy, earnestly. "I wanted to pay them fellers for this job--you betterb'lieve I did, but," he shook his head slowly, "I can't do it. Yousee, sir, I ain't Tode no more--I'm Theodore, now."

  There was a look on the homely, boyish face that forbade furtherdiscussion of the matter, and, after a moment's silence, Mr. Scottsaid in a different tone, "Well, my boy, when are you going home? Nanand the baby want to see you."

  Theo glanced impatiently about the long room.

  "She said I'd got to stay in bed till the doctor had seen me," hereplied, "'n the doctor'll be here 'bout nine o'clock."

  "She" was the nurse.

  "It's nearly nine now. I'll wait until the doctor comes, then,"Mr. Scott said.

  The doctor pronounced the boy quite fit to leave the hospital, and hisclothes being brought to him, the curtains were drawn around his cotand he dressed himself hastily. But as he pushed aside the curtains,Mr. Scott saw a troubled look on his face, and asked:

  "What's the matter, Theodore?"

  Without answering the boy crossed the room to the nurse.

  "Where's the money that was in my pocket?" he asked, anxiously.

  The nurse looked at him sharply. "If there was any money in yourpockets when you were brought here it would be in them now," sheanswered, shortly. "You can go to the office and ask any questions youlike."

  Theodore turned toward his teacher a very sorrowful face.

  "I've been robbed, too," he said.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Theodore. How much have you lost?"

  "Five dollars. She says to ask at the office, but 'twon't do no good,I s'pose."

  "No, nothing would have been taken from your pockets here, but we willstop at the office and see if we can learn anything," Mr. Scott said.

  Tag had kept close to his master's heels, and now at his teacher'ssuggestion Theodore picked up the dog, who went forth quietly enoughin that fashion.

  Inquiries at the office convinced the boy that he had been robbedbefore he was brought there, and naturally enough he came to theconclusion that his money had gone into the pockets of Dick Hunt andhis companions.

  At the door of the tenement house Mr. Scott left Theo, who hurriedeagerly up the stairs. On the landing he met Jimmy Hunt, who calledout:

  "Hi--o, Tode, where ye been all night? Say, what was the matter? DidMr. Scott find ye?"

  "Yes," was Theo's only response, as he pushed open Nan's door, to begreeted with such a warm welcome that he
hardly knew what to say andhad to hide his embarrassment by poking the baby's ribs to make himlaugh. Jimmy Hunt had followed him into the room and listened withopen mouth as well as ears to the brief story that the boy told inreply to Nan's questions.

  "Oh, 'twasn't much. I got knocked down an' carried to the hospital,an' they wouldn't let me come away till morning--that's all."

  "An' wasn't ye hurt?" cried Jimmy, in a disappointed tone. It seemedto him altogether too tame an affair if nobody was hurt.

  "My shoulder's sprained, an' my head was hurt a little," Theoanswered. "Say, Jim, where's Dick?"

  "I d'know. Out somewheres," replied Dick's brother, indifferently.

  "Why ain't you in school, Jimmy?" was Theo's next question.

  "Well, I like that!" exclaimed Jimmy, in a tone of deepdisgust. "Ain't I been a-racin' all over town for you this mornin',a-gettin' Mr. Scott to hunt ye up, an' goin' ter see 'f your stand'sopen, an' carryin' things 'round fer Nan, too? How could I do allthat an' be in school, I'd like to know?"

  "'Deed, you couldn't, Jimmy," replied Nan, soothingly. "I don't knowwhat I should have done this morning without him, Theo. He was myright hand man."

  Jimmy coloured with satisfaction at this high praise, and his delightwas complete when Theodore added,

  "That so? Well now, Jimmy boy, I ain't goin' to forget this."

  "Huh! Twarn't nothin'. I liked to do it," replied Jimmy, and thenovercome by a sudden and unaccountable fit of bashfulness he ranhastily out of the room.

  Then Theodore told Nan the details of his adventure, but not even toher would he tell the name of his enemy, and Nan did not guess, forshe would never have imagined that Mrs. Hunt's Dick could have servedTheo so.

  Dick had gone out as usual after breakfast and did not come home evento get his supper, but of late his habits had been so irregular thatnothing was said at home about his absence.

  After supper Jimmy was sent out on an errand and Dick met him andquestioned him in regard to Theo's return, and what he had to say.Jimmy waxed indignant over the story which he filled in from his ownimagination with many vivid details.

  "Some fellers pitched into him an' knocked him down an' beat him an'left him for dead an' they took him t' the hospital an' kep' him thereall night. Guess them fellers'll suffer for it! They robbed him,too. Took five dollars out o' his pockets."

  "They didn't neither!" exclaimed Dick, hastily, thrown off his guardby this unexpected statement.

  "Come now, Dick Hunt, mebbe you know more'n I do about it," retortedJimmy, with withering sarcasm, little suspecting how much more hisbrother _did_ know. "Mebbe you heard what Nan said to ma 'boutit."

  "No, no! 'Course I d'know nothin' 'bout it. How would I know?"replied Dick, quickly and uneasily. "Say, Jimmy, is he--is Tode goin'to have them fellers took up?"

  "'Spect he is--I would," answered Jimmy; then remembering his errand,he ran off, leaving Dick looking after him with a haggard, miserableface.

  "Robbed," Dick said to himself, as he walked moodily and aimlesslyon. "We didn't do that anyhow. Somebody must 'a' gone through hispockets after we cleared out. Nice box I'm in now!"

  Dick did not go home at all that night. He was afraid that he might bearrested if he did.

  "He knows 'twas me did it, an' he's keepin' dark 'bout it till theycan nab me," he thought.

  He hunted up the three boys who had been so ready to help him thenight before, but he found them now firmly banded together againsthim. Moreover, they had spread such reports of him among theircompanions, that Dick found himself shunned by them all. He dared notgo home, so he wandered about the streets, eating in out-of-the-wayplaces, and sleeping where he could. One day Carrots told him thatTode Bryan was huntin' everywhere for him. Then Dick, in desperation,made up his mind to go to sea--he could stand the strain no longer. Hedared not go home, even to bid his mother goodbye. Dick was selfishand cruel, but he had even yet a little lingering tenderness for hismother. It was not enough to make him behave himself and do what heknew would please her, but it did make him wish that he could see herjust for a moment before going away. It was enough to make him creepcautiously to the house after dark, and stand in the shadow, lookingup at her window, while he pictured to himself the neat, pleasantroom, where at that hour, she would be preparing supper. While hestood there, Theo came out of the house, with Tag, as usual, at hisheels. Tag ran over to the dark corner and investigated Dick, butcautiously, for there was no friendship between him and this member ofthe Hunt family. Dick stood silent and motionless afraid that the dogmight bark and draw Theo over there, but he stood ready for flightuntil Theo whistled and Tag ran back to him, and presently followedhim off in another direction. Then, with a breath of relief, Dickstole off into the darkness, and the next day he left the city on avessel bound for South America, rejoicing that at last he was beyondreach of Tode Bryan.

  Dick was not mistaken in thinking that Theo had been searching forhim, but he was greatly mistaken as to the boy's purpose init. Theodore was entirely ready now to obey that command thatMr. Scott had shown him and to do his best to "overcome evil withgood." He took it for granted that Dick and the others had robbed aswell as beaten him, but all the same, he felt that he was bound toforget all that and find some way to show them a kindness. But thoughTheo was always on the lookout for him, Dick managed to keep out ofhis sight while he remained in the city. After Dick had sailed, someboy told Jimmy where his brother had gone, and so at last the newsreached Theodore.

  Since his return from the bishop's, Theo had had few idle moments, butafter losing the five dollars he worked early and late to make up theloss. He grew more silent and thoughtful, and when alone his thoughtsdwelt almost continually on that happy day when he should look oncemore into the bishop's kind face.

  "I'll tell him all about it," he would say to himself, "how I saw thatMrs. Russell drop the pocketbook, an' how I slipped under the wagonan' snatched it up out o' the mud, an' used the money. I'll tell itall, an' ev'rything else bad that I can 'member, so he'll know jestwhat a bad lot I've been, an' then I'll tell him how sorry I am, an'how I'm a-huntin' ev'rywhere for that Jack Finney, an' how I'll keepa-huntin' till I find him."

  All this and much more Theodore planned to tell the bishop, and, as hethought about it, it seemed as if he could not wait another hour, sointense was his longing to look once more into that face that was likeno other earthly face to him, to listen again to the voice thatthrilled his heart, and hear it say, "My boy, I forgive you." Many atime he dreamt of this and started up from sleep with those wordsringing in his ears, "My boy, I forgive you," and then finding himselfalone in his dark, dismal little room, he would bury his wet cheeks inthe pillow and try to stifle the longing in his lonely, boyish heart.

  Even Nan, who knew him better than did any one else, never guessed howhis heart hungered to hear those words from the lips of the bishop.

  But little by little--in nickels and dimes and quarters--Theodore laidby another five dollars. He knew to a penny how much there was, butwhen he brought the last dime, he and Nan counted it all to makesure. There was no mistake. It amounted to thirty-seven dollars andtwenty-five cents, and the boy drew a long, glad breath as he lookedup at Nan with shining eyes and flushed cheeks, saying,

  "To-morrow, Nan, I can see--_him!_"

  "Don't look so--so awfully glad, Theo. I'm afraid something willhappen," said Nan, with a troubled expression in her eyes as shelooked at him.

  "Don't you worry. I ain't a-goin' to be robbed again--you betterbelieve I ain't!" cried the boy. Then he glanced at his worn suit andtried to pull down his jacket sleeves, as he added, wistfully, "D'youthink I look well enough to go there, Nan? I wanted to buy a collaran' necktie, but, I just _couldn't_ wait any longer."

  Nan's private opinion was, that if the bishop could only see Theo'sface at that moment, the garments he wore would be a matter of smallimportance. She answered, quickly,

  "You look plenty well enough, Theo. Don't worry about that."

  She gathered up
the money and put it back into the box in which it hadbeen kept, and the boy went across the room to the bed where the babylay asleep.

  "Seems to me he looks kind o' peaked--don't he, Nan?" he remarked,uneasily.

  Nan cast an anxious glance at the little, thin face, and shook herhead. "He doesn't get strong as I hoped he would," she answered,sadly.

  "Oh well, he will, when it comes warmer, so he can get out doorsoftener," the boy said, as he went away to his room.

  He hurried through his work the next day, closing his stand at theearliest possible moment, and rushing home to get ready for hisvisit. He always, now, kept his face and hands scrupulously clean. Hishair might have been in better condition if he had had money to buy acomb or a brush, but those were among the luxuries that he felt hemust deny himself until he had made all the restitution in his power.

  To-day, however, when he went to Nan's room for his money, she offeredhim the use of her comb, and helped him reduce his rough, thick hairto some kind of order. Even then he looked at himself somewhatdoubtfully. His suit was so shabby in spite of Nan's careful mending,and his shoes were worse than his suit, but they were polished to thelast degree. He had exchanged a sandwich and two doughnuts for that"shine."

  "You look well enough, Theo," Nan said, "plenty well enough. Now goon, and oh, I do _hope_ it will be all right."

  "I know 'twill," cried the boy, joyously, as he tucked the moneycarefully into an inside pocket. "Oh, Nan!"

  He looked at her with such a happy face that her own beamed a brightresponse. Then he ran off and Nan stood in the doorway watching him ashe went down the stairs, closely followed by his inseparablecompanion, Tag.

  "The dear boy! He is fairly pale," said Nan, to herself, as she turnedback into her room. "It is strange how he loves that bishop--and whata different boy he is, too, since he came home. I don't see how thebishop can help loving him. Oh, I do hope nothing will happen tospoil his visit. He has looked forward to it so long."

  The boy felt as if he were walking on air as he went rapidly throughthe crowded streets, seeing nothing about him, so completely were histhoughts occupied with the happiness before him. As he got farther uptown the crowd lessened, and when he turned into the street on whichthe bishop lived, the passers-by were few.

  At last he could see the house. In a few minutes he would reachit. Then his joyous anticipations suddenly vanished and he began to betroubled.

  What if Brown wouldn't let him in, he thought, or--what if the bishopshould refuse to see him or to listen to his story?

  As these thoughts came to him his eager pace slackened and for amoment he was tempted to turn back. Only for a moment, however. He_knew_ that the bishop would not refuse to see him, and as forBrown, if Brown refused to admit him, he would go to the servants'door and ask for Mrs. Martin.

  So thinking, he pushed open the iron gate and went slowly up the walk.

  "Stay here, Tag. Lie down, sir!" he ordered, and the dog obedientlydropped down on the steps, keeping his bright eyes fastened on hismaster, as the boy rang the bell. Theo could almost hear his heartbeat as he waited. Suddenly the door swung open and there was Browngazing severely at him.

  "Well--what do _you_ want?" questioned the man, brusquely.

  "I want--Don't you know me, Brown? I want to see--Mrs. Martin."

  The boy's voice was thick and husky, and somehow he could not utterthe bishop's name to Brown standing there with that cold frown on hisface.

  "Oh--you want to see Mrs. Martin, do you? Well, I think you've gotcheek to come here at all after leaving the way you did," Browngrowled. He held the door so that the boy could not enter, and seemedmore than half inclined to shut it in his face.

  "Oh, please, Brown, _do_ let me in," pleaded the boy, with such aheart-broken tone in his voice, that Brown relented--he wasn't half sogruff as he pretended to be--and answered, grudgingly,

  "Well, come in, if you must, an' I'll find out if Mrs. Martin will seeyou."

  With a sudden gleam of joy in his eyes, Theodore slipped in.

  "Come along!" Brown called over his shoulder, and the boy followed tothe housekeeper's sitting-room. The door of the room stood open, andMrs. Martin sat by the window with a newspaper in her hand. Sheglanced up over her spectacles as Brown's tall figure appeared at thedoor.

  "Mrs. Martin, this boy says he wants to see you," he announced, andthen sauntered indifferently away to his own quarters.

  Mrs. Martin took off her glasses as she called, "Come in, boy, andtell me what you want."

  Theo walked slowly toward her hoping that she would recognise him, butshe did not. Indeed it was a wonder that Brown had recognised him, sodifferent was his appearance in his rough worn clothes, from that ofthe handsomely dressed lad, whose sudden departure had so grieved thekindhearted housekeeper.

  "Don't you know me, Mrs. Martin?" the boy faltered, sorrowfully, as hepaused beside her chair.

  "No, I'm sure I--why! You don't mean to say that you are our deaf anddumb boy!" exclaimed the good woman, as she peered earnestly into thegrey eyes looking down so wistfully into hers.

  "Yes, I'm the bad boy you were so good to, but I've been keepin'straight ever since I was here, Mrs. Martin," he answered,earnestly. "I have, truly."

  "Bless your dear heart, child," cried the good woman, springing uphastily and seizing the boy's hands. "I'm sure you have. I guess_I_ know a bad face when I see one, and it don't look likeyours. Sit down, dear, and tell me all about it."

  In the fewest possible words Theo told his story, making no attempt toexcuse anything. The housekeeper listened with keen interest, askinga question now and then, and reading in his face the confirmation ofall he said. He did not say very much about the bishop, but the fewwords that he did say and the look in his eyes as he said them, showedher what a hold upon the boy's heart her master had so unconsciouslygained, and her own interest in the friendless lad grew deeper.

  When his story was told, she wiped her eyes as she said, slowly, "Andto think that you've been working all these weeks to save up thatmoney! Well, well, how glad the dear bishop will be! He's said all thetime that you were a good boy."

  "Oh, has he?" cried Theo, his face all alight with sudden joy. "I wasafraid he'd think I was all bad when he found out how I'd cheatedhim."

  "No, no!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin. "He was grieved over your going offso, and he has tried his best to find you, but you see he didn't knowwhere to look for you."

  "Did he try to find me, Mrs. Martin? Oh, I'm so glad! And can I seehim now, please?"

  The boy's voice trembled with eagerness as he spoke.

  The housekeeper's kind face was full of pity and sympathy as sheexclaimed, "Why, my boy, didn't you know? The bishop is in California.He went a week ago to stay three months."

  All the glad brightness faded from the boy's face as he heard this. Hedid not speak, but he turned aside, and brushed his sleeve hastilyacross his eyes. Mrs. Martin laid her hand gently on his shoulder.

  "I'm so sorry," she said, "and he will be too, when he knows of yourcoming. I will write him all about it."

  Still the boy stood silent. It seemed to him that he could not bearit. It had not once occurred to him that the bishop might be away, andnow there was no possibility of seeing him for three long months. Itseemed an eternity to the boy. And to think that he was there--athome--a week ago!

  "If they hadn't stole that five dollars from me, I might 'a' seen himlast week," the boy said to himself, bitter thoughts of Dick Huntrising in his heart. At last he turned again to the housekeeper and atthe change in his face her eyes filled with quick tears.

  He took from his pocket the little roll of money and held it out,saying in a low unsteady voice, "You send it to him--an' tellhim--won't you?"

  "I'll write him all about it," the housekeeper repeated, "and don'tyou be discouraged, dear. He'll want to see you just as soon as hegets home, I know he will. Tell me where you live, so I can send youword when he comes."

  In a dull, listless voice the boy gave
the street and number, and shewrote the address on a slip of paper.

  "Remember, Theodore, I shall write the bishop all you have told me,and how you are trying to find the Finney boy and to help others justas he does," said the good woman, knowing instinctively that thiswould comfort the boy in his bitter disappointment.

  He brightened a little at her words but he only said, briefly,

  "Yes--tell him that," and then he went sorrowfully away.

  Mrs. Martin stood at the window and looked after him as he went slowlydown the street, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground,while Tag, well aware that something was wrong, trotted beside himwith drooping ears and tail.

  "Tell me that that's a bad boy!" the good woman said to herself. "Iknow better! I don't care what that Mr. Gibson said. I never took muchstock in Mr. Gibson myself, anyhow. He always had something to sayagainst anybody that the bishop took an interest in. There--I wish I'dtold Theodore that he was here only as a substitute, and had to leavewhen the regular secretary was well enough to come back. I declare myheart aches when I think of that poor little fellow's face when I toldhim that the bishop was gone. Ah well, this is a world ofdisappointment!" and with a sigh she turned away from the window.

  Nan sat in a rocking-chair with Little Brother in her arms, whenTheodore opened her door.

  "Oh Theo--what is it? What is the matter?" she cried, as she saw hisface.

  He dropped wearily into a seat and told her in a few words the resultof his visit.

  "Oh, I am so sorry!" she exclaimed. "And it seems so hard to thinkthat you would have seen the bishop if you hadn't lost that fivedollars!"

  The boy sighed, but made no reply. He could not talk about it then,and presently he got up and went out.