“BETTER THAN THE POORHOUSE”
Polly was on the veranda when Doodles came.
“Why, Doodles Stickney!
I was just thinking of you! How did you know
I wanted to see you this morning?”
“I didn’t,” he laughed; “but
I wanted to see you’”
“I’m so glad oh,
I forgot! I’m due at the dentist’s
at ten o’clock! Maybe I can get off.”
“No, no! I couldn’t
stay till that time anyway. I came down on business
“Dear me!” laughed Polly,
“how grand we are this morning!”
“I don’t know whether
it is ‘grand’ or not it depends
a good deal on the president of June Holiday Home.
I’ll tell you all about it,” dropping
into a chair beside Polly.
He related the incidents of the day
before, of Miss Lily’s meeting him at the church
door, of his singing to her in the afternoon, and
finally of her distress at going to the poorhouse.
“And I happened to think if
she could only come to the June Holiday Home
“Lovely!” cried Polly. “I
don’t see why she can’t!”
“Nor I, but somebody may.
I thought I’d see you first and maybe you’d
give me a little note of introduction you
know Mr. Randolph so well, and I never spoke to him.”
“Certainly I will! I’ll
go right and do it now! Chris will want to see
you I’ll send him out.”
The note that Doodles carried away
with him was in Polly’s best style.
Dear Mr. Randolph:
This is to introduce my friend Doodles Stickney,
or to be perfectly proper, Julius Stickney.
He will tell you about Miss Lily, and I do hope
you will make a place for her at the Home.
I have never seen her, but I know she is nice,
or Doodles wouldn’t like her or take so much
trouble to get her in. I feel awfully sorry
for her. It must be dreadful to have your eyes
give out so you have to go to the poorhouse.
Miss Sniffen made a terrible fuss because
you stayed at the picnic with us or because
we stayed with you. Anyway, she scolded Miss
Nita like everything. I’m afraid we can’t
ever have a picnic again. She began on me
when I went to report our arrival she happened
to be at the desk. You know you have to report
as soon as you get in, and I said I’d do it for
the crowd. Miss Nita couldn’t because
her ankle ached so. It turned black and blue just
awful! She wouldn’t say a word to anybody,
and father sent some liniment by me. The first
smelt so strong Miss Nita didn’t dare use
it for fear they’d suspect, so father sent
her another kind. He said it wasn’t quite
so good as the smelly sort, but her ankle is a whole
lot better. Don’t you think she is brave?
I don’t know what Miss Sniffen would say
if she knew about that. We’ve all kept
whist.
This is a pretty long letter, but
I knew you’d want
to hear about Miss Nita’s ankle. You
will let Miss
Lily in, won’t you?
Yours with hope,
Polly may Dudley.
Thank you ever so much for that beautiful
ride! I
shall never forget it.
Doodles walked into the great office
of the Fair Harbor Paper Company and asked to see
Mr. Randolph.
“We hired a boy last week.
We don’t want any more.” The clerk
was turning away.
“Oh, I’m not applying
for a place!” cried Doodles, his voice full
of laughter. “I wish to see the president
on business.”
The young man scowled, irritated by
his blunder, and surveyed the boy with a disagreeable
sneer.
“Well, he’s too busy to
attend to kids. What do you want anyhow?”
Doodles hesitated. He did not
wish to tell his errand to this pompous young person.
“Please say to Mr. Randolph
that I would like to see him on important business
about the June Holiday Home.”
“Who sent you?”
“No one; but I have a letter of introduction.”
“Oh, you have! Hand it out!”
Doodles made no move toward his pocket.
“I wish to give it to Mr. Randolph himself,”
he said gently.
“Well, you can’t see him. He’s
busy now.”
“I will wait,” replied the boy, and took
a chair.
The clerk went behind the railing and sat down at
a desk.
Doodles looked out on the street and
watched the passers. Occasionally his eyes would
wander back to the office and over the array of men
and women bent to their work, then they would return
to the wide doorway. He felt that he had small
chance to speak with Mr. Randolph until he should
go to luncheon, and that, he argued to himself, would
not be a very good time to present his business.
He wished that the unpleasant young clerk would go
first he would like to try some other.
Men and women came and went, some
of them disappearing in the rear, where, undoubtedly,
was the man he sought. If only he dared follow!
Finally the offensive youth came out through the gate
and over to where he sat.
“Here, you kid,” he began
in an insolent tone, “you’ve hung round
here long enough! Now beat it!”
Into the soft brown eyes of Doodles shot an angry
light.
The other saw it and smiled sneeringly.
He did not count on the lad’s strength.
In a moment the indignation had passed.
There was none of it in the quiet voice. “Good-day,
sir!”
Doodles was gone.
A plan had instantly formed in his
mind. He would get himself a lunch, and then
wait outside the office until Mr. Randolph appeared.
That was the only way. It never occurred to
him to give the matter up.
One restaurant was passed; it did
not look inviting. The next was better, but
flies were crawling over the bottles and jars in the
window. He went on.
“It will cost more, I suppose,”
he muttered regretfully to himself, as he entered
a neat cafe where the door was opened to him by a boy
in livery.
“Bread and milk,” he ordered
of the trim maid, and he smiled to himself contentedly
at the daintiness with which it was served.
The milk was cool and sweet, and Doodles
was hungry. The whistles and clocks announced
that it was noon, and soon afterward people began
to stream in. Women with shopping-bags and bundles,
men with newspapers, hatless working-girls; but everywhere
were courtesy and low voices. Doodles was glad
of his choice.
He sat eating slowly, wishing he knew
at what time he would be most likely to meet Mr. Randolph,
when he stared at a man coming toward him it
was the president of the Paper Company! The boy
drew in a delighted breath what great good
luck!
Mr. Randolph sat down at a little
table not far away. He looked tired, the lad
thought, and he decided to wait until the close of
the meal, if he could manage to make his own small
supply of milk last long enough.
“Nothing more, thank you,”
Doodles told the maid who came to ask. “This
milk is very nice,” he added, which brought out
an answering smile.
At last the president had reached his fruit.
The boy’s last crumb had vanished
long ago, and he thought he might venture across to
the other table.
“May I speak with you a moment,
sir?” he asked softly, taking the letter from
his pocket.
“Certainly.” The
man bowed with his accustomed courtesy.
“Polly Dudley gave me this for you.”
At mention of the name a pleasant light over-spread
the grave face.
The lad watched him as he read.
The light deepened, then the brows drew together
in a scowl. Doodles wondered what Polly had written.
“This lady is a friend of yours, I take it.”
The keen gray eyes looked straight at the boy.
“Yes, sir,” Doodles smiled,
“though a very new one. I never saw her
till yesterday.”
The eyes bent upon him widened a little.
The lad told his story as simply as
possible, touching lightly upon his own part in it.
“And so,” he ended artlessly, his appealing
brown eyes looking straight into the steady gray ones,
“I thought, even if there were rules and patches
and things she didn’t like, it would be better
than the poorhouse.”
A little amused smile replaced the
hint of surprise on the man’s face.
“Where do you sing?” he asked abruptly.
“At St. Bartholomew’s Church, Foxford.”
“Did you come down expressly to see me about
this?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Doodles.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t.”
A smile overspread the small face. “I
waited at your office until” he hesitated
an instant “I thought I would find
you after I had had a lunch.”
“Get hungry?”
“Oh, no, sir!”
Mr. Randolph eyed him questioningly.
“The young man thought I’d
waited long enough,” was the gentle explanation.
“So he told you to go!”
“I guess he got tired of seeing me there,”
smiled Doodles.
“Did you wait long?”
“’Most two hours.”
“Tall, light-haired fellow, was it?”
The boy assented.
The president mused a moment and then resumed:
“In any case your friend will
have to make an application. I think I will
let her take a blank. Have her fill it out, and
you can send it down to me. I will attend to
the rest.”
Doodles rose from his chair, feeling
that it was time to go, yet he could not forbear one
question.
“Do you think she can come to
the Home?” His tone betrayed his solicitude.
“I will do the best I can for
her, Master Stickney.” Mr. Randolph had
also risen, and he smiled down into the upturned face.
“It will have to be referred to the Committee
on Applications, but I will see that it is put through
as quickly as possible.”
Doodles decided to see Miss Lily before
going home, so it was still early afternoon when he
entered the little house on North Charles Street.
“Why, you dear boy!”
The little lady had him in her arms. “How
good of you to come! I was thinking this morning,
what if I shouldn’t ever hear you sing again and
now here you are!”
“I told you I’d come,” laughed Doodles.
“Yes,” smiled Miss Lily;
“but people forget. I guess you aren’t
the forgetting kind.”
“I didn’t come to-day
to sing,” the boy began slowly. Now that
the moment was at hand he felt suddenly shy at disclosing
his errand. “I happened to think yesterday
of the June Holiday Home down in Fair Harbor, and
I wondered if you wouldn’t rather go there and
live than to go anywhere else.”
For an instant Miss Lily stared.
“That beautiful place up on Edgewood Hill? me? go
there?” Her mobile face showed a strange mingling
of astonishment, fear, and joy.
“Certainly! Shouldn’t you like to?”
“‘Like to’! All the rest of
my life? Oh, I can’t believe it!”
“I don’t know that you
can get in,” Doodles hastened to explain; “but
I went to Fair Harbor this morning to see Mr. Randolph he’s
the president of the Home. He doesn’t know
yet for certain, but he has sent you a blank to make
out, and then it’s got to go to a committee.
He said he’d do the best he could for you, he
is a very nice man!”
“And you have taken all this
trouble for me?” Miss Lily’s hands went
up to her face. The tears trickled down and fell
on her dress.
“It wasn’t any trouble,”
asserted Doodles. “I thought maybe there
was no chance, and so I wouldn’t tell you till
I found out.” The lad took the paper from
his pocket.
Miss Lily wiped her eyes. “I
can’t see to write,” she said tremulously;
“that is, not well, and the doctor said I mustn’t
try.” She looked mournfully at the boy.
“I’ll do it for you,”
he proposed cheerily. “Then if there’s
anything to sign you can do it with your eyes shut.
I love to write with my eyes shut and see how near
I come to it!”
“I never tried,” she admitted, “but
perhaps I could.”
“It says first, ‘Your name in full.’”
Doodles looked up inquiringly.
“Faith Lily.” repeated
its owner mechanically. Then she started across
the room. “I’ll get you a pen and
ink,” she said.
Doodles wrote with careful hand.
“That’s a pretty name,” he commented.
“I always liked it,” she
smiled. “But I’m afraid my faith has
been going back on me lately. I did have a good
deal. I thought the Lord wouldn’t let
me go to the poorhouse, then it seemed as if He was
going to. Only a little while ago I thought He
must have forgotten me and now this!”
Her dim eyes grew big with wonder and thankfulness.
“Even if I can’t go, I shall be glad you
tried to get me in; it will tell me I have one friend.”
“The next is, ‘Time and place of birth.’”
“I was born August 3, 1847, in Cloverfield,
Massachusetts.”
“‘Name of father,’” read Doodles.
“Jonathan Seymour Lily.”
There were many questions, and the
boy was a slow writer. It took no little time
to place all the answers. But the end of the
list was finally reached without blot or smudge.
Doodles surveyed his work with gratification.
“I guess I haven’t made
any mistake,” he said, reading it over.
“Now if you can just put your name there, it
will be done.”
Her hand trembled and the letters
were wavering, but when Doodles declared it was “splendidly
written,” she smiled her relief.
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday went
by, and Doodles heard nothing from Mr. Randolph.
He began to be afraid that the committee had decided
against his friend, and although his mother told him
that such procedures always take considerable time,
he grew more nervous with every mail-coming.
When Saturday morning brought him no word, he decided
to go over to Miss Lily’s.
“I don’t know that she
could read the letter if she had one,” he said
in dismay. “Why didn’t I think of
that before!”
His first glimpse of the little woman
corroborated his worst fears. Her eyes were swollen
with weeping, and her face was haggard and despairing.
“Can’t you go?” he ejaculated.
“I haven’t heard a word!”
she answered mournfully. “I didn’t
know but you had.”
“No, I haven’t. That’s why
I came over.”
She shut the door and made him sit down.
“I guess I’ll have to
go to the poorhouse after all,” she began in
a hushed voice, as if fearful of being overheard.
“Oh, I wouldn’t give up! Mr. Randolph
said it would take time.”
“But I can’t wait!
The woman thought I was going, and she’s rented
my room, and she won’t let me stay another night!
I haven’t quite enough money to pay up, and
she says she shall keep my trunk and furniture oh,
to think I have come to this!”
The little woman’s distress was agonizing to
Doodles.
“Now, don’t you worry!”
he pleaded. “You are coming straight home
with me to stay at our house over Sunday, and next
week we shall probably hear.”
“No, no! your mother your
mother won’t want me!” she sobbed.
“I can’t go to make her all that trouble!”
“’T won’t be a bit
of trouble!” he insisted. “She will
like to have you come! We all will! We’d
better go right away, too. Is your trunk packed?”
“Pretty much; there are a few
little things to put in.” She found herself
yielding to the stronger will of the boy. Going
to the closet, she brought out some articles of clothing
which she began to fold.
“Is all the furniture yours?”
Doodles asked, looking around on the meager array.
She shook her head. “Only
the rocking-chair and the couch and that little chair
you’re in and the oil heater and the pictures ”
She ran her troubled eyes over the things enumerated,
as if fearing to forget some of her few remaining
possessions. “Oh, yes! there’s my
bookshelf! I mustn’t leave that.”
“Suppose I make a list of them,”
suggested Doodles. “I think maybe we’d
better have them taken over to our house Blue
can come this afternoon and see about it. Blue’s
my brother, you know.”
“But Mrs. Gugerty won’t let me have them!”
“She will if you pay up.”
“Yes, but I can’t!
I gave her the last cent I had!” Her voice
quivered.
Doodles took out his purse and counted over his change.
“No, you’re not going to pay it!”
she cried. “I shan’t let you!”
“I’m afraid I haven’t
enough,” smiled the lad ruefully “only
sixty-seven cents.”
“I owe a dollar and a quarter,” she admitted.
“Blue can pay it when he comes
for the things,” returned the boy, dismissing
with a careless “That’s nothing!”
the little woman’s protest.
Miss Lily looked around for the last time with a cheerful
smile.
“Somehow I can’t feel
as bad to go home with you as I know I ought to,”
she said, “only I hate to have you and your folks
do so much for me and I such a stranger,
too!”
“No, you’re a friend,” Doodles corrected.
“Yes, I am forever
and ever!” She laughed tremulously. “I
don’t see why you’re so good to me.”
“You’ll like my mother!”
Doodles responded with some irrelevance. “She’s
the best mother in the whole world!”
“I know I shall love her if
she’s any like her boy!” She gave him
a caressing pat.
True to the word of Doodles, Miss
Lily was welcomed to the little bungalow with such
heartfelt hospitality that her sad, starving soul
was filled with joy, and when Blue returned with her
small stock of goods and put Mrs. Gugerty’s
receipt into her hand, her eyes overflowed with happy
tears. With cheery Mrs. Stickney and merry Doodles
and Blue for companions, she had little time to worry
over the possible outcome of her application to the
June Holiday Home, and Sunday was passed in an utterly
different way from that she had imagined a week before.
It was not until the next Wednesday
that any news came from Mr. Randolph. Then the
letter-carrier brought a long, thin envelope addressed
to “Miss Faith Lily,” and the recipient
turned so white when Doodles handed it to her that
he feared she was going to faint.
“Shall I open it?” he asked.
She bowed her head. Words were far away.
He drew out the paper and gave it
one hurried glance. Then he swung it over his
head with a glad whoop.
“You’re going! You’re going!
You’re going!” he shouted.
“Doodles!” remonstrated his mother, for
Miss Lily was weeping.
In a moment, however, tears had given
way to joy, and Doodles must read to her every word
of Mr. Randolph’s friendly note as well as the
wonderful document that was to admit her to the palatial
June Holiday Home.