The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe: or, There's No Place Like Home

Mr. Darol had paid the bills as they had been presented. One day Hal asked to see them. The request was evaded for a while; but one evening, when he was dining with Mr. Darol, he insisted upon it.

"Very well," returned Mr. Darol smilingly. "Here they are: look them over and be satisfied. Very moderate, I think."

The hot-house had cost thirteen hundred dollars; soil, and various incidentals, one hundred more; flowers, three hundred.

"Seventeen hundred dollars," said Hal in a grave and rather tremulous tone. "And seven thousand on the house."

"The mortgage is to remain any number of years, you know. Joe has arranged to pay part of the interest. And the conditions of these" – gathering them up, and turning toward Hal, who was leaning against the mantle, rather stupefied at such overwhelming indebtedness.

"Well?" he said with a gasp that made his voice quiver.

"This," and Mr. Darol laughed genially. Hal saw a blaze in the grate, and stood speechless.

"It is my gift to you. Not a very large business capital, to be sure; but you can add to it from time to time."

"O Mr. Darol!"

"My dear Hal, if you knew the pleasure it has been to me! I don't know why I have taken such a fancy to you all, unless it is for the sake of the children I might have had; but that is an old dream, and the woman who might have been their mother is in her grave. You deserve all this, and more."

The tears stood in Hal's eyes, and he could not trust his voice. How dark every thing had looked only a little year ago! Could he ever be thankful enough? And that it should all come through such a ridiculous thing as Charlie's running away!

"I am confident that you will prosper. And I expect you all to like me hugely, in return. When I take Dot and Charlie to operas, I shall look to you to provide the flowers."

"A very small return," said Hal.

But he went home as if he had been a tuft of thistle-down on a summer-breeze. Ferry-boat and horse-car were absolutely glorified. And when he reached the little cottage with lights in every window, and the dear ones awaiting him, he could only clasp his arms around them, and kiss them. But they knew the next morning what had flushed his face, and made his eyes so lustrous.

"Ah, I told you he was a prince!" declared Charlie in triumph.

And then Hal's work commenced in earnest. Every morning he spent in his green-house, and began experiments of propagating, that were so interesting to him. Kit assisted, and Dot ran in every hour or two, to see how they prospered.

Kit had come across a German musician, hardly a square off, who was giving him lessons, and who used to wax very enthusiastic over him. There had been quite a discussion as to what should be done with him.

"Why, he must go to school," declared brother Edmund. "He's a mere child yet; but he has a wonderful talent for music, it must be admitted."

"He might become an organist," said Florence. "That gives a man a position." Somehow she did not take cordially to the violin.

Kit consented to go to school.

"But to give up my dear, darling old fiddle! It's mean, when the rest of you have had just what you wanted, – been adopted, and gone to sea, and had green-houses, and all that!" said Kit, half-crying, and jumbling his sentences all together.

"You shall keep the fiddle," said Granny. "I like it."

Florence also proposed that Granny should have a servant. At this Granny was dismayed.

"A servant! Why, do you suppose I am going to set up for a queen, because Hal has his beautiful hot-house, – an old woman like me?"

"But Dot ought to go to school, and then it would be too much for you."

"I am going to study at home," returned Dot with much spirit. "I haven't any genius: so I shall keep house, and help Hal with his flowers. And the work isn't any thing. A woman comes in to do the washing and ironing."

"And Hal is handy as a girl. No: I'd rather stay as we are," Granny said, with more determination than she had shown in her whole life.

Florence had to leave them "as they were." The simple, homely duties of every-day life were not distasteful to them. If Granny could not have been useful, the charm would have gone out of life for her.

Joe was delighted with every thing, and told Granny that if he wasn't so tall he should surely stand on his head, out of pure joy. He was to make his head-quarters with them when he was at home.

Miss Charteris had been added to their circle of friends, and enjoyed the quaint household exceedingly. Hal was an especial favorite with her, and she took a warm interest in his flowers.

In October, Hal began to have a little business. Baskets and stands were sent in to be arranged for winter; and now and then some one strayed in, and bought a pot of something in bloom. He began to feel quite like a business-man. His five hundred dollars had served to defray incidental expenses, and put in coal and provisions for the winter, leaving a little margin. If he could get his sales up to regular expenses, he thought he should be content for the present.

He took a trip to Madison one day. The cottage was nothing but a heap of crumbling boards. Had they ever lived there, and been so happy?

"It'll never be the same place again," said Granny, listening to the summer's improvements. "I am glad we came away. I couldn't have seen the old house torn down. Maybe it's the flowers here, and the children, that makes it seem like home to me; but most of all I think it must be you, dear Hal. And so I'm satisfied, as the good Lord knows."

Her caps were a trifle more pretentious, and her gowns more in modern style; but she was Granny still, and not one of them would have had her changed. When she sat in her rocking-chair, with her hands crossed in her lap, Hal thought her the prettiest thing in the house.

"Hooray!" exclaimed Kit, rushing home one evening out of breath, and covered with snow. "What do you think? Granny, you could never guess!"

"I never was good at guessing," returned Granny meekly.

"Something wonderful! Oh, a new fiddle!" said Dot.

"No: and Hal won't try. Well" – with a long breath – "I'm going – to play – at a concert!"

"Oh!" the three exclaimed in a breath.

"And it's the oddest thing," began Kit, full of excitement. "You see, there's to be a concert given in New York, to help raise funds to give the newsboys, and other homeless children, a great Christmas dinner. Mr. Kriessman has it in hand; and, because it's for boys, he wants me to play – all alone."

"O Kit! you can't," said Hal. "When you faced the audience, it would seem so strange, and you would lose your courage."

"No I wouldn't, either! I'd say to myself, 'Here's a dinner for a hungry boy,' and then I wouldn't mind the people. Mr. Kriessman is sure I can do it; and I've been practising all the evening. A real concert! Think of it. Oh, if Joe can only be here!"

Dot put her arms round his neck, and kissed him. Hal winked his eyes hard, remembering the old dreams in the garret.

He went to see Mr. Kriessman the next day.

"The boy is a genius, I tell you, Mr. Kenneth," said the enthusiastic professor. "He will be a great man, – you see, you see! He has the soul, the eyes, the touch. He fail!" and an expression of lofty scorn crossed the fair, full face.

"But he has had so little practice" —

"It will all be right. You see, you see! Just leave him to me. And he is so little!"

Hal smiled. Kit did not bid fair to become the family giant, it was true.

Not a moment did the child lose. Dot declared that he could hardly eat. Charlie was in high delight when she heard of it; for Mr. Darol was going to take her and Miss Charteris. Hal hardly knew whether he dared venture, or not.

But Joe did come just in the nick of time, and insisted that everybody should go, ordering a carriage, and bundling Dot and Granny into it; poor Granny being so confused that she could hardly make beginning or end of it. And, when they were seated in the great hall that was as light as day, she glanced helplessly around to Joe.

"Never you mind, Granny! I'm not a bit afraid," he whispered. "He will fiddle with the best of them."

'The wonderful boy violinist,' it said on the programme. "If he should not be so wonderful," thought Hal quietly, with a great fear in his soul. He could not tell what should make him so nervous.

Mr. Darol came and spoke to them. "Isn't it odd?" he said with a laugh. "Why, I never dreamed of it until Charlie told me! I wouldn't have missed it for any thing."

The concert began. There was an orchestral overture, then a fine quartet, a cornet solo, and so they went on. Hal followed the programme down. Then he drew a long breath, and looked neither to the right nor the left. That little chap perched up on the stage, Kit? making his bow, and adjusting his violin, and – hark!

It was not the story of the child lost in the storm, but something equally pathetic. Mr. Kriessman had made a fortunate selection. Curiosity died out in the faces of the audience, and eagerness took its place. Ah, what soft, delicious strains! Was it the violin, or the soul of the player? Not a faltering note, not a sign of fear; and Hal laughed softly to himself. On and on, now like the voice of a bird, then the rustle of leaves, the tinkle of waters, fainter, fainter, a mere echo, – a bow, and he was gone.

There was a rapturous round of applause. It nearly subsided once, then began so vehemently that it brought Kit out again. But this time he was the gayest little fiddler that ever played at an Irish fair. People nodded and smiled to each other, and felt as if they must dance a jig in another moment.

Joe bent over to Granny.

"Isn't that gay?" he asked. "Kit has beaten the lot of us. Granny, if you are not proud of him, I'll take you straight home, and keep you on bread and water for a month."

Proud of him! Why, Granny sat there crying her old eyes out from pure joy. Her darling little Kit!

"Dot," exclaimed Mr. Darol as they were going out, "we shall hear of you as an actress next. I never knew of such wonderful people in my life."

"Oh, it was magnificent!" said Charlie. "And the applause!"

"That I should have lived to see the day!"

"Why, Granny, it would have been very unkind of you if you had not," declared Joe solemnly.

How they all reached home, they never exactly knew. They laughed and cried, and it was almost morning before they thought of going to bed.

But the notices next day were as good as a feast. There could be no doubt now. Hal understood that from henceforth Kit and his fiddle would be inseparable. It was "born in him," as Joe said. As for Kit, he hardly knew whether he were in the body, or out of the body.

Hal and Dot set about making up accounts the day before Christmas. The three-months' proceeds had been two hundred and sixty dollars; pretty fair for a beginning, and a whole green-house full of flowers coming into bloom. He was on the high road to prosperity. So he fastened his glasses, put on his coal, and arranged his heat cut-offs for the night, and came into the house. There were Dot and Kit and Charlie, and the supper waiting.

"And there is the six-months' interest," said Hal. "Next year we can let up a little on dear, generous Joe. And to-night is Christmas Eve."

Joe rushed in.

"What do you think, Granny? I've just come from Flossy's. They have a beautiful little boy named Hal Kenneth, – a real Christmas gift, and no mistake. Here's to your namesake, Hal; though, try his best, he can never be half as good as you."

I do believe poor, foolish Hal had his eyes full of tears, thinking of Flossy's great joy. But Charlie and Kit cheered in a tremendous fashion.

After the supper was cleared away, they sat in a little circle, and talked. There always was so much to say, and Joe liked nothing half so well as to hear of every event that had transpired in his absence. They all kept such a warm interest in each other!

Somehow they strayed back to the last Christmas, and the "songs in the night."

"Sing again," besought Granny.

Dot's birdlike voice was first to raise its clear notes. One hymn was dearer than all the rest. The music quivered a little when they came to this verse, as if tears and heart-throbs were not far off: —

"Wonderful night!Sweet be thy rest to the weary!Making the dull heart and drearyLaugh with a dream of delight.Wonderful, wonderful night!"

And then a tender silence fell over them. They clasped each other's hands softly, and the breaths had a strangled sound. Granny alive, Joe raised from the dead, Kit some day to be a famous musician!

Joe crept up to Granny, and kissed her wrinkled face. Somehow it seemed as if the furrows began to fill out.

"Oh," he said huskily, "there's nothing in the world so wonderful, nor so sweet, nor so precious as 'The Old Woman who lived in a Shoe!' When I think of her love, her patient toil, her many cares, and the untiring devotion with which she has labored for us all, I feel that we can never, never repay her. O Granny!"

"I've been glad to have you all, God knows. There wasn't one too many."

Not one of the loving arms that encircled her could have been spared. There she sat enthroned, a prouder woman to-night, poor old Granny Kenneth, than many a duchess in a blaze of diamonds. Fair Florence; laughing Joe, with his great, warm heart; sweet, tender Hal; racketing Charlie; Kit, with his scalp-lock waving in the breeze; and dear little Dot, – jewels enough for any woman, surely!

Ah, children! love her with the best there is in your fresh young souls. Make the paths smooth for her weary feet, remembering the years she has trudged on the thorny highway of life for your sakes. When the eyes grow dim, bring the brightest in your lives to glorify her way. Cling to her, kiss warmth into the pale lips; for when she has gone to heaven it will seem all too little at the best. True, she will reap her reward there; but it is sweet to have a foretaste of it in your smiles, as well. Dear Granny, who has made toil heroic, and old age lovely, and out of whose simple, every-day existence have blossomed the roses that still render this old world bright and glorious, – Love, Labor, Faith!