It was very early the next morning when the household awoke. By seven o"clock a two-seated carryall was drawn up to the side-door, and by a quarter past the carryall, bearing Jennie, Frank, the boys, and the lunch baskets, rumbled out of the yard and on to the highway.
"Now, keep quiet and don"t get heated, mother," cautioned Jennie, looking back at the little gray-haired woman standing all alone on the side veranda.
"Find a good cool spot to smoke your pipe in, father," called Frank, as an old man appeared in the doorway.
There followed a shout, a clatter, and a cloud of dust--then silence.
Fifteen minutes later, hand in hand, a little old man and a little old woman walked down the white road together.
To most of the pa.s.sengers on the trolley-car that day the trip was merely a necessary means to an end; to the old couple on the front seat it was something to be remembered and lived over all their lives. Even at the Junction the spell of unreality was so potent that the man forgot things so trivial as tickets, and marched into the car with head erect and eyes fixed straight ahead.
It was after Hezekiah had taken out the roll of bills--all ones--to pay the fares to the conductor that a young man in a tall hat sauntered down the aisle and dropped into the seat in front.
"Going to Boston, I take it," said the young man genially.
"Yes, sir," replied Hezehiah, no less genially. "Ye guessed right the first time."
Abigail lifted a cautious hand to her hair and her bonnet. So handsome and well-dressed a man would notice the slightest thing awry, she thought.
"Hm-m," smiled the stranger. "I was so successful that time, suppose I try my luck again.--You don"t go every day, I fancy, eh?"
"Sugar! How"d he know that, now?" chuckled Hezekiah, turning to his wife in open glee. "So we don"t, stranger, so we don"t," he added, turning back to the man. "Ye hit it plumb right."
"Hm-m! great place, Boston," observed the stranger. "I"m glad you"re going. I think you"ll enjoy it."
The two wrinkled old faces before him fairly beamed.
"I thank ye, sir," said Hezekiah heartily. "I call that mighty kind of ye, specially as there are them that thinks we"re too old ter be enj"yin" of anythin"."
"Old? Of course you"re not too old! Why, you"re just in the prime to enjoy things," cried the handsome man, and in the sunshine of his dazzling smile the hearts of the little old man and woman quite melted within them.
"Thank ye, sir, thank ye sir," nodded Abigail, while Hezekiah offered his hand.
"Shake, stranger, shake! An" I ain"t too old, an" I"m agoin" ter prove it. I"ve got money, sir, heaps of it, an" I"m goin" ter spend it--mebbe I"ll spend it all. We"re agoin" ter see Bunker Hill an" Faneuil Hall, an" we"re agoin" ter ride in the subway. Now, don"t tell me we don"t know how ter enj"y ourselves!"
It was a very simple matter after that. On the one hand were infinite tact and skill; on the other, innocence, ignorance, and an overwhelming grat.i.tude for this sympathetic companionship.
Long before Boston was reached Mr. and Mrs. Warden and "Mr. Livingstone"
were on the best of terms, and when they separated at the foot of the car-steps, to the old man and woman it seemed that half their joy and all their courage went with the smiling man who lifted his hat in farewell before being lost to sight in the crowd.
"There, Abby, we"re here!" announced Hezekiah with an exultation that was a little forced. "Gorry! There must be somethin" goin" on ter-day,"
he added, as he followed the long line of people down the narrow pa.s.sage between the cars.
There was no reply. Abigail"s cheeks were pink and her bonnet-strings untied. Her eyes, wide opened and frightened, were fixed on the swaying, bobbing crowds ahead. In the great waiting-room she caught her husband"s arm.
"Hezekiah, we can"t, we mustn"t ter-day," she whispered. "There"s such a crowd. Let"s go home an" come when it"s quieter."
"But, Abby, we--here, let"s set down," Hezekiah finished helplessly.
Near one of the outer doors Mr. Livingstone--better known to his friends and the police as "Slick Bill"--smiled behind his hand. Not once since he had left them had Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden been out of his sight.
"What"s up, Bill? Need a.s.sistance?" demanded a voice at his elbow.
"Jim, by all that"s lucky!" cried Livingstone, turning to greet a dapper little man in gray. "Sure I need you! It"s a peach, though I doubt if we get much but fun, but there"ll be enough of that to make up. Oh, he"s got money--"heaps of it," he says," laughed Livingstone, "and I saw a roll of bills myself. But I advise you not to count too much on that, though it"ll be easy enough to get what there is, all right. As for the fun, Jim, look over by that post near the parcel window."
"Great Scott! Where"d you pick "em?" chuckled the younger man.
"Never mind," returned the other with a shrug. "Meet me at Clyde"s in half an hour. We"ll be there, never fear."
Over by the parcel-room an old man looked about him with anxious eyes.
"But, Abby, don"t ye see?" he urged. "We"ve come so fer, seems as though we oughter do the rest all right. Now, you jest set here an" let me go an" find out how ter git there. We"ll try fer Bunker Hill first, "cause we want ter see the munurmunt sure."
He rose to his feet only to be pulled back by his wife.
"Hezekiah Warden!" she almost sobbed. "If you dare ter stir ten feet away from me I"ll never furgive ye as long as I live. We"d never find each other ag"in!"
"Well, well, Abby," soothed the man with grim humor, "if we never found each other ag"in, I don"t see as "twould make much diff"rence whether ye furgived me or not!"
For another long minute they silently watched the crowd. Then Hezekiah squared his shoulders.
"Come, come, Abby," he said, "this ain"t no way ter do. Only think how we wanted ter git here an" now we"re here an" don"t dare ter stir. There ain"t any less folks than there was--growin" worse, if anythin"--but I"m gittin" used ter "em now, an" I"m goin" ter make a break. Come, what would Mr. Livin"stone say if he could see us now? Where"d he think our boastin" was about our bein" able ter enj"y ourselves? Come!" And once more he rose to his feet.
This time he was not held back. The little woman at his side adjusted her bonnet, tilted up her chin, and in her turn rose to her feet.
"Sure enough!" she quavered bravely. "Come, Hezekiah, we"ll ask the way ter Bunker Hill." And, holding fast to her husband"s coat sleeve, she tripped across the floor to one of the outer doors.
On the sidewalk Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden came once more to a halt.
Before them swept an endless stream of cars, carriages, and people.
Above thundered the elevated railway cars.
"Oh-h," shuddered Abigail and tightened her grasp on her husband"s coat.
It was some minutes before Hezekiah"s dry tongue and lips could frame his question, and then his words were so low-spoken and indistinct that the first two men he asked did not hear. The third man frowned and pointed to a policeman. The fourth snapped: "Take the elevated for Charlestown or the trolley-cars, either;" all of which served but to puzzle Hezekiah the more.
Little by little the dazed old man and his wife fell back before the jostling crowds. They were quite against the side of the building when Livingstone spoke to them.
"Well, well, if here aren"t my friends again!" he exclaimed cordially.
There was something of the fierceness of a drowning man in the way Hezekiah took hold of that hand.
_"Mr. Livin"stone!"_ he cried; then he recollected himself. "We was jest goin" ter Bunker Hill," he said jauntily.
"Yes?" smiled Livingstone. "But your luncheon--aren"t you hungry? Come with me; I was just going to get mine."
"But you--I--" Hezekiah paused and looked doubtingly at his wife.
"Indeed, my dear Mrs. Warden, you"ll say "Yes," I know," urged Livingstone suavely. "Only think how good a nice cup of tea would taste now."
"I know, but--" She glanced at her husband.