CHAPTER EIGHTH.

CONCLUSION.

WHEN Mr. Bond arrived at Mr. Merriam's, the family were at breakfast, and he was invited into the dining-room. He knew Mr. and Mrs. Merriam well, having often had business with them relating to street children, for whom they were much interested, and Sarah Anne and the little girls were in the same class in Sunday-school.

"Will you take a cup of coffee, Mr. Bond?" asked Mrs. Merriam kindly. "This is a cold morning."

Mr. Bond thanked her, but declined upon the ground of having just risen from the breakfast table, and then entered upon the subject of his errand, to which the little girls listened with as much attention as their parents, for they had been early accustomed to take an interest in whatever concerned the welfare of poor people and their children, and Ella and Marian had their own little girl, as they called her, a little coloured orphan at the Home for the Friendless, for whom they made clothes, and sometimes bought playthings.

"It is a singular case," said Mr. Merriam, as Mr. Bond concluded his story. "I never met with one exactly like it in all my experience. Certainly the boy's resolution shows a great deal of strength of character."

"Especially as he knows what to expect," remarked Miss Fanny. "Mr. Bond says he has talked with a boy who has been in the house, so that he understands that it is a place of strict discipline and hard labour."

"That seems to be just what attracts him," replied Mr. Bond. "He says very honestly that he is not a good boy, and that he knows he will be likely to get into mischief if left without superintendence."

"What do you think of his appearance?" inquired Mrs. Merriam. "You are pretty well accustomed to judge of such cases."

"I like his looks very well," replied Mr. Bond. "He looks one straight in the face when he speaks, which is a very good sign, and he seems ready enough to take hold of any work that comes along. I left him helping my son to saw and split wood, and working very hard, though, of course, there is no knowing how long it will last. One little thing which happened last night gave me a good idea of his disposition—" And he proceeded to relate the story of his saving the kitten, to which the children listened with much interest.

"What sort of kitten was it?" asked Ella, as the account was concluded.

"Why, I am not learned about cats," replied Mr. Bond, smiling, "but I believe I heard my little girls call it a tabby, or tortoise-shell."

Ella and Marian looked at each other, and Ella gave a little jump in her chair, as she was apt to do under any excitement.

"O mamma! Perhaps it is our very own kitten."

"That is not very likely," said Mrs. Merriam. "Poor Tabby's troubles are probably all at an end long before this time."

"But it might be, mamma—it is possible," argued Ella. "You know kittens live through a great deal, and Tabby had so much spirit."

And the two little girls began to overwhelm Mr. Bond with inquiries about the kitten's ears, feet, and tail,—questions which he could not answer very minutely, being more accustomed to observe the outward appearance of vagrants than of cats.

"But I will tell you what you can do," he said good-naturedly, seeing how much the children were interested, "you can go down to my house, and see the kitten, and if it turns out to be yours, you can bring it home. I think that will be the best way to manage."

"May we, mamma?" asked both the children at once.

"You know you have the double-gown to finish for little Chloe," said Mrs. Merriam. "You were going to take it to her to-day, and she really needs it very much, for Mrs. S. tells me she is not able to sit up a great deal now."

"But that will not take long, mamma, and we will sit right down to it as soon as we have finished our work. Then we can carry it to her after dinner, you know, and come home by the way of Mr. Bond's. It is only a very little bit farther."

The kind mother consented to this arrangement, and Mr. Bond took his leave, promising to bring Jack Fletcher to Mr. Merriam's office in the course of the morning.

No sooner was breakfast over, and their daily task of sweeping and dusting completed, than Ella and Marian sat down to finish the double-gown. And though they were both reasonably good seamstresses for their years, their little fingers never flew faster than now.

"Oh! If it should be our own precious darling kitten, how glad I should be!" said Ella. "I wish we knew for certain, for you know in a city like this there may be a great many tabby cats besides ours."

"We won't tell the old cat anything about it till we are sure," said Marian considerately; "and then she won't be disappointed. I wonder if she will be glad to see her again?"

"To be sure she will," returned Ella rather indignantly. "You don't suppose she is going to forget her own kitten in a week, do you? How glad I shall be to see them all together at play again! O you dear little Tody! You don't know what a nice New Year's present you are going to have perhaps—"

And Ella suspended her work for a moment to hug Tody who had just that moment come in, and wondered what in the world his little mistress could mean. However, he was used to her ways, and did not trouble himself much about the matter. But as soon as he was released went to chasing a spool into the corners, and pretending it was a rat, while Ella worked with renewed diligence to make up for the moment she had lost.

The garment was finished before dinner, and neatly folded into a bundle with two pairs of warm stockings which Mrs. Merriam had found time to knit, and sundry playthings old and new, all destined for the little orphan.

The wind was cold, and drifted the snow in little clouds round the corners of the streets and into the faces of the little girls as they went on their errand, but they were warmly wrapped up, and their hearts were too full of joyous and kindly thoughts to care if their noses did smart a little. Merrily they proceeded on their way, laughing and talking, and stopping occasionally to exchange a few words with a companion or school-mate.

"Oh, there is Dora Warrington across the street," exclaimed Marian, as they turned a corner, "let us go over and ask how Agnes is."

Dora was thin and pale, but she had a pleasanter expression than when we last saw her, though she looked sad and subdued.

"She is better," she said in answer to Ella's inquiries about her sister, "but we do not think her out of danger yet. She has some very bad turns, and whenever she is out of her mind, she is always talking about that kitten. I suppose you have not heard anything of her, have you?"

"We don't know," replied Marian. "We have heard of a tortoise-shell kitten that was found last night, and we are going now to see if it is the same. Mother thinks Tabby must be dead by this time, but I cannot help hoping we shall find her after all."

"I hope you will," said Dora. "I have always felt very sorry about it, and so has Agnes, I know. I don't see what possessed her to do such a spiteful thing, though, to be sure, I have been just as bad myself. I hope we shall both be better girls after this: I am sure we have had a lesson. But, girls, if you do find her, will you come round by our house, and let us know? Agnes will be so relieved."

The girls promised to do so, and went on their way.

"How thin Dora is!" remarked Ella. "She looks as though she had been sick herself."

"She stays with Agnes a great deal," said Marian, "and runs to wait on her mother." She was silent a few moments, and then added abruptly, "Ella, are you not glad that Mrs. Warrington is not our mother?"

"Yes, indeed," said Ella heartily. "I should not like her at all. She is so idle. But, Marian," she added, correcting herself, "you know mother does not like us to talk about the faults of older people."

"I should not object to having Miss Barbara for a sister," said Marian. "I like her very much."

"Surely there will be greater harmony between Agnes and Dora after this," remarked Ella. "Dora seems changed a good deal, and it must make a difference in the family having Theresa there. How neat she is, and she goes about so nicely with her little crutch. Mother says she never saw any grown person more useful in a sickroom than Theresa was that night they sat up with Agnes. She seemed to know just what was wanted before it was asked for, and she was never in the way. I should like to be just like her when I am as old."

"You would not like to be lame," said Marian.

"Of course not; I mean like her in disposition. And after all, she does not seem to mind her lameness much. She is almost always in good spirits."

Thus chatting, they beguiled the length of the road, and reached the Home for the Friendless. They found little Chloe very glad to see them, much delighted with the new clothes, and still more with a large linen doll which the girls had covered and painted over, till it was as good as new, or better.

Chloe had been found by some kind ladies in an alley in one of the worst parts of the city, not seeming to belong to anybody, but handed about from one to another among the wretched people who lived there, sometimes getting something to eat, and sometimes not, as it happened, often cold and hungry, and always miserable. They took her to the Home, where she was washed and dressed, and tended as carefully as any lady's child, but it was too late to save her. Her constitution was destroyed by the hardships she had undergone, and all they could do for her was to make the last hours of her short life as happy as possible. And very happy poor Chloe was. She could not play much herself, but she liked to watch the frolics of the other children, and as she never cried or was cross, she was a pet and favourite with every one in the Institution.

Even Ella and Marian, inexperienced though they were, could see a great alteration in their little friend's appearance since they had last visited her, and it was with rather saddened hearts that they bade her good-bye, thinking that they might very possibly never see her again.

They turned down the street which led to Mr. Bond's, and walked on almost in silence, till they found themselves perplexed, not being quite sure about the number of the house.

"This is a nice-looking place," said Ella as they passed a neat and somewhat ornamented dwelling. "Perhaps the people will know where the Bonds live. Let us ring and ask."

Mrs. Cox herself came to the door, and immediately recognised the children, whom she had often seen in church with their parents. Ella politely asked her if she could tell them where Mr. Bond lived.

"Mr. Bond!" repeated Mrs. Cox in surprise. "You don't mean Bond the policeman, do you?"

"Yes, ma'am, he is a policeman. Does he live near here?"

"He lives in that white house just across the street," replied Mrs. Cox. "Did your mother send you there?"

Ella felt the impertinence of the question, and coloured a little, but she answered politely, "Yes, ma'am; we never go anywhere she does not let us."

And before Mrs. Cox could frame another question, the little girls were gone.

"Well, if that isn't curious," said Mrs. Cox to herself. "I should like to know their mother's object in sending them to Mrs. Bond's. Something about poor people, I daresay."

She stood and watched them as they crossed the street, and to her amazement, she saw Sarah Anne run out to meet the sisters, kiss them, and draw them into the house, with every sign of affectionate and long-standing acquaintance.

"Well, if ever! I should like to see Sarah Bond kiss one of 'my' children like that. It is all very well to be kind to poor people, but I must say I think something is due to one's social position. I don't believe in being so friendly with everybody, just because one happens to go to church with them. I daresay it was all Mrs. Merriam's doings that Mrs. Bond was made a society visitor. But I am determined to find out what those children are after, some way or other." With which praiseworthy resolution she turned into the house, finding it too cold to stand at the door with the thermometer at zero, even when engaged in the engrossing pursuit of watching her neighbours and their visitors.

Meantime, the children had been hospitably received and seated by the fire, and their furs and overshoes taken off, lest, as Mrs. Bond expressed it, they should not feel the benefit of them when they went out.

A pale and poorly dressed girl was sitting in the corner, whom the sisters did not recognise till Mrs. Bond said: "Don't you know Polly Webster? I believe she is in your class at Sunday-school."

"Why, Polly," said Ella, at once getting up to kiss her, "how odd that we should not know you! But we are used to seeing you with your bonnet on. I suppose that must be the reason."

Poor Polly well knew what was the reason. She had never seen the sisters except when she was "dressed up," as her mother called it, in a silk or merino frock, and a handsome and expensive bonnet and cloak, and now she was dressed in the same old and faded blue dress in which she was first introduced to our readers, and which her mother had thought good enough to run in to see Sarah Bond, as long as she went the back way so that Mrs. Cox did not see her. She was too much mortified to finish her visit, but soon slipped out, and went home more annoyed and out of patience than ever.

The girls looked eagerly around the room, but no kitten was to be seen.

"Your father told us he had found a tortoise-shell kitten," said Ella to Sarah, speaking as usual both for herself and her sister; "and as we have lost one, mother said we might come and see if it was the same."

"To be sure," said Mrs. Bond. "I shouldn't wonder if it was. You go and get her, Sarah. Our old cat quarrelled with her," she explained, as Sarah went upstairs, "and so the girls shut her up in their room till we found out about her, for Mr. Bond said you were coming down to see her some time to-day. Be quick, Sarah!"

But Sarah had no need to hurry. Tabby had heard the well-known voices, and was mewing and scratching at the door in an agony of impatience. No sooner was it opened than she made almost one leap from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and was in Ella's lap before Sarah could come down again. No words could have more plainly expressed her joy than did Tabby's movements. She went from one to the other, purring, rubbing her head, and rolling over, and doing everything that a cat could do, to express her delight at seeing them again.

"It is our very own dear little kitty," said Ella, examining her all over, as if to make sure of the fact, and almost crying for joy. "O you dear little naughty Tabby! How glad I am to see you again, and how glad your mother will be!"

"She is just as much pleased to see you," remarked Mrs. Bond, enjoying the delight of the little girls. "She is a real pretty kitten, and as cunning as ever I saw one. I don't wonder you were sorry to lose her. Do you want to carry her home yourselves, or shall I send Tom up with her? I am sure he will go cheerfully."

Tom at once professed his willingness, but the little girls declared they would not, upon any account, lose the pleasure of taking her home. So Mrs. Bond provided a snug basket with a cover and handle, which they could conveniently carry between them.

"But you must not go just yet," she said, as she saw them look round for their capes. "Stay and rest a little." She went into the pantry as she spoke, and presently returned with a plate of bread and butter, and another containing a beautiful piece of white honeycomb. "You must eat some bread and honey before you go," said she. "The honey is from our own bees, and I am sure your walk has made you hungry."

The girls were in a great hurry to get home, but they thought it would not be polite to refuse what Mrs. Bond had taken so much pains to provide for them. So they sat down to the table, and found, as Mrs. Bond had said, that the walk had given them an appetite. Tabby, who kept close to her mistress, was also provided with a saucer of milk, that she might not go away hungry. They had a very pleasant little visit, and after inviting Sarah Anne to come and see them, and thanking her for her care of the kitten, they took their leave.

Mrs. Cox, watching from her dining-room window, saw them issue from the policeman's gate, bearing a covered basket between them, and now and then stopping to peep through the chinks of the basket, as though highly delighted with the contents. But with the nature of its contents Mrs. Cox was destined never to become acquainted. Mrs. Webster, to whom she looked for a solution of the mystery, was taken severely ill that afternoon and continued so for several weeks, and by the time she was well enough to talk, Mrs. Cox was so much occupied with her own and her neighbour's house-cleaning and papering that the affair of the basket passed out of her mind, and so it chanced that she never found out after all what it was that took Mrs. Merriam's girls to Mrs. Bond's, nor what they carried away with them.

Ella and Marian pursued their way merrily, only stopping as aforesaid, to peep into the basket where Tabby lay snugly coiled up, perfectly contented to be quiet in her warm quarters, as long as she was going home to her mother and Tody. They did not forget their promise to stop at Mrs. Warrington's, and inform Dora of their success.

"Dear little Tabby!" said Tessy, peeping into the basket, as Dora went up stairs to tell her sister the good news. "How glad I am she is safe, but how thin and forlorn she looks! I don't believe you will ever be so foolish as to run away again, little kitty."

"I don't believe I shall," thought Tabby, "but dear me, I hope they won't stay here long; I want to get home so, I don't know what to do. I feel as if I should fly."

But Tabby could not fly, and her patience was destined to a little longer trial, for Dora came down presently, to ask the girls to go up and see Agnes. They found her lying in bed, her beautiful curling hair all cut off close to her head, and so changed that they could hardly think it was herself. She was too weak to say much, but kissed them both, and whispered: "I am so glad she is found! You don't know how sorry I have felt."

"Never mind, Aggy," said Marian, with tearful eyes. "It has all turned out well, so you need think no more about it."

"I don't think Aggy wants to forget it, Marian," remarked Theresa. "Do you, dear?"

Agnes shook her head, but she was not allowed to talk, so the girls kissed her again, and taking their leave, soon arrived at home in safety with their precious burden.

As soon as they came in sight, Miss Fanny, who was watching at the parlour window, ran to let them in, knowing by their faces that they had succeeded in their search. The old cat was lying before the parlour fire with Tody, and she looked up in amazement to see Miss Fanny jump up so quickly. But she jumped up ten times more quickly herself as Ella lifted the cover, and Tabby, thin and dirty, but still her own loved Tabby, jumped out of the basket, and threw herself into her mother's paws, while Tody capered round them in such an ecstasy of delight that he singed his tail in the grate without knowing it, and twice attempted to jump over his own head!

"Well, Tabby," said her mother, after she had given an account of all her adventures, "you have had some very narrow escapes, and seen many curious things. I hope you have learned one lesson from your adventures that you will never forget—that a kitten's own family friends are the best friends she can have, and that if she is not happy at home, it is almost always her own fault."

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I suppose my young readers will like to know what became of some of the other personages of our story.

Agnes Warrington recovered after a very long and tedious confinement. She never forgot the occasion of her illness, and the lessons which it taught her influenced the whole of her after-life. It is not easy to get over bad habits all at once, and she and Dora had a "tiff" now and then as of old, but her long-continued feebleness prevented their coming much into collision, till Dora's good principles were too firmly rooted to be easily overthrown. And as it takes at least two to make a quarrel, Agnes became gradually ashamed of being always in the wrong.

As Ella had prophesied, Theresa's influence had a good effect upon the rest of the family. She did not go to boarding-school till her cousin had entirely recovered, and by that time, she had become so much endeared to her relatives that they knew not how to part with her, and looked forward with pleasure to the time when she should have a permanent home among them.

Mrs. Webster also recovered, but only after a very long and dangerous illness, during which time her dear friend and counsellor, Mrs. Cox, never came to see her but three times, and did not once offer to assist in taking care of her. While Mrs. Bond and Mrs. Randall sat up with her night after night, looked after the housekeeping, and kept the baby, when its mother was so ill as to render its absence necessary. Under such circumstances, Mrs. Webster could not fail to see who were her true friends, and rose from her sick-bed at last a wise woman, having learned the important lesson that we should give all our attention to performing our duties at home and abroad to the best of our ability, in which case our social position may safely be left to take care of itself. Polly now goes as neatly dressed as Sarah Bond, and is almost as happy, and Mr. Webster finds his home so much improved in cheerfulness and comfort that he declares his doctor's bill to be the best laid out money he ever spent.

Jack Fletcher went to the House of Refuge, but he did not remain there long. He soon learned to read and write, and a farmer from the West, struck with his intelligent and good-humoured face, and interested in his story, took him out to Iowa to live. Jack now works on the farm in summer, and goes to school in winter, and bids fair to be as respectable a man as any in the United States. He corresponds with Tom Bond, who means to be a farmer too some day, and he never forgets to ask after Sarah Anne, who bids fair to be as smart and as good as her mother before her, though her father thinks she will never be as handsome.

And now, having disposed of all our principal personages, we will conclude by wishing all our young friends a Merry Christmas! and a happy New Year! and bid them farewell till next season.

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