Glory was truthful1 and loving, and her grandfather had taught her to be clean, honest, and industrious2, but, beyond this, she had had little training. She knew that Meg-Laundress and Posy Jane both firmly believed in “Guardian Angels” who hovered3 about human beings to protect and prosper4 them. She had inferred that these “Angels” were very beautiful but had never asked if they were ever visible or, if so, what form they took.
Glory felt now that she would never need to ask about the “Angels” for the small creature before her answered all these unspoken inquiries6; a mite7 of a thing, in silken white, with glistening8 golden curls and the roundest, loveliest of big blue eyes, who sat on the floor smiling and gurgling in an unknown language, yet gravely regarding Bo’sn who, firm upon his haunches, as gravely regarded this astonishing intruder. The tiny visitor was so unlike any crony captain or ragged9 newsboy that the dog was perplexed10, yet as evidently pleased, for his eyes were shining, his mouth “laughing” and his stump11 of a tail doing its utmost to wag. As Glory appeared in the doorway12, he cast one welcoming glance over his shoulder, then with the same intensity13, returned to his contemplation of the child.
After all, it was not an “Angel” from a spiritual world, but a wonderfully fair and winning little human being. From whence she had come and why, she was too young to explain and Glory was too delighted to care. Here she was, gay, shining, and wholly undisturbed, and, as the little goober girl appeared, the baby lifted her face, laughing, and lisping: “Bonny come!”
“Angels” could use human speech then; and now her awe15 of the visitant vanished and down went Take-a-Stitch beside Bo’sn and clasped the little one close and kissed and caressed16 it to her heart’s content, which meant much to Glory, because even grandpa had objected to overmuch caressing17, though this newcomer appeared to take kissing as a matter of course and to like it.
“Oh! you darlin’, darlin’, sweetest ‘Angel’! Have you truly come to live with me?”
“Bonny come!” answered the other, thrusting her tiny hands into Glory’s own curls and pressing her dewy lips to Glory’s cheek.
“Oh, you precious, precious, sweetest, darlin’est one. Oh, won’t grandpa be pleased! An’ you’ll help–that’s what you come for, ain’t it?–you’ll help to find him. Why, if you’re a truly ‘Angel,’ you know this minute ’t ever is just where to search, an’ so ’twon’t be more’n a bit of a while ’fore me an’ you an’ him is all back here together in this splendid littlest house, a ’livin’ in peace an’ dyin’ in grease an’ bein’ buried under a pot o’ taller,’ like Nick’s stories end; only I guess we’ll do without the grease an’ taller, ’cause I hate dirt an’ ‘Angels’ do, ’course. Oh, let’s start right away! Why–why–we might be home again, lickety-cut, if we did. Shall we go to find grandpa, ‘Angel’?”
The stranger toddled18 to her feet, Bo’sn watching the operation with keenest interest, but once upon them, there ensued delay, for, whoever this unknown might be, Glory herself was a very human little girl. She could not keep her fingers from feeling and examining the exquisite19 garments which clothed her visitor’s form, and at each fresh discovery of daintiness, from the silken coat to the snowy shoes, her exclamations20 of wonder and admiration21 grew more intense. Before she had finished, she felt a reflex grandeur22 from her richly attired23 guest and unconsciously gave her own scanty24 skirt an airy flirt25, as if it had suddenly become of proper length and color.
Giving the “Angel” a fresh embrace, she clasped its pink fingers and started to follow wherever it might lead, with Bo’sn close behind.
So intent was she upon her small “Guardian,” that she did not observe a man entering the lane from the further end, else she would have recognized him for the owner of the littlest house, come in person to inspect his property and to learn if his rent would be forthcoming when due; also, to prepare the captain for possible removal, in case a certain deal, then in progress, should transfer the three-cornered building to other hands and purposes.
But the gentleman saw Glory and wondered how she had come to have in charge, in such a neighborhood, a little child so unsuited to it. By just the one minute’s time which would have brought him to the littlest house ere Glory left it, she missed some further enlightenment on the subject of “Guardian Angels,” and the sad news that she had not only lost grandparent but home as well; for, seeing the place open, at the mercy of any Elbow tramp who might enter and despoil26 it, the landlord at once decided27 that, sale or no sale, he would get rid of so careless a tenant28. Crossing to the basement of Meg-Laundress, he made some inquiries concerning the Becks and was told all which that talkative woman knew or suspected.
“An’ none of us in the Lane ever looks to see him back, sir, an’ that’s the fact. But whatever’s to become o’ his little girl, when she finds out, land knows,” she concluded.
“Oh, plenty of institutions to take in just such as she and she’d be a deal better off than living from hand to mouth as she has always done. The captain must have been a fine man once and so far–so far–has had his rent money ready when it was due; but I made it too small, a great deal too small. I was a fool for sympathy and let my heart run away with my head.
“Know anybody would take in the old man’s few traps and take care of them till something develops?” continued the landlord. “He is dead, of course. Must have been him was run over that time; but they might sell for a trifle for the child’s benefit. I wouldn’t mind having that time-keeping arrangement of bells myself. Was really quite ingenious. I might as well take it, I reckon, on account of loss of occupancy. Yes, I will take it. And if he should return–but he won’t–you tell him, my good woman, how it was and he can look to me to settle. Know anybody has room for his things?”
“No, I don’t. An’ if I did, I wouldn’t tell ye,” answered Meg, testily29, and as a relief to her indignation cuffed30 her youngest born in lieu of him upon whom she wished she dared bestow31 the correction.
But the corner grocery-man was more obliging and better supplied with accommodations for Captain Beck’s belongings32. In truth, seeing that the landlord was determined33, whether or no, to remove them from the littlest house, he felt that he must take them in and preserve them from harm against their owner’s claiming them. He thought, with Meg, that harm had certainly befallen the blind seaman34 and that they would see him no more, but he also felt that Glory’s rights should be protected to the utmost. With this idea in mind, he stoutly35 objected to parting with the bell-timepiece, and even offered to make up any arrears36 of rent which the other could rightly claim.
“Oh! that’s all right,” said the landlord, huffishly. “That can rest, but I wish you’d call a cart and get the traps out now, while I’m here to superintend.”
“I’m with you!” cried the grocer, with equal spirit; and so fully14 fell in with the other’s wishes that, before Glory had been an hour absent from the only home she could remember, it had been emptied of its few, but well loved, furnishings and the key had been turned upon its solitude37. Thus ended, too, Nick’s brief brilliant dream of household proprietorship38.
However, all this fresh trouble was unknown. Whither her “Angel” led, she was to follow; and this proved to be in wholly a different direction from that dark end of the Lane toward the bridge.
For a time the small, unconscious guide toddled along, making slow progress toward the sound of a hand-organ which her ear had caught yet which was still out of sight. Arrived, they joined the group of children gathered about the grinder and his monkey, and created a profound sensation among the gutter40 audience.
“Where’d you get her? Whose she belongs?” demanded one big girl who knew Glory and found this white-clad stranger more interesting than even a monkey.
“Belongs to me. She’s mine; she was sent,” returned Take-a-Stitch, with an inimitable gesture of pride.
“Huh! Talk’s cheap. Nobody sent silk-dressed young ones to the Lane to be took care of, Glory Beck. I don’t care, though. Keep her, if ye want to,” returned the offended questioner.
“Sure I shall,” laughed Glory, gaily41. “But needn’t get mad, Nancy Smit............