About
seven o’clock one hot summer evening a strange family moved into the little
village of
Middlesex. Nobody knew where they came from, or who they
were. But the neighbors soon made up their minds what they thought of the
strangers, for the father was very drunk. He could hardly walk up the rickety
front steps of the old tumble-down house, and his thirteen-year-old son had to
help him. Toward eight o’clock a pretty, capable-looking girl of twelve came
out of the house and bought a loaf of bread at the baker’s. And that was all
the villagers learned about the newcomers that night.
“There
are four children,” said the bakeshop woman to her husband the next day, “and
their mother is dead. They must have some money, for the girl paid for the bread
with a dollar bill.”
“Make
them pay for everything they get,” growled the baker, who was a hard man. “The
father is nearly dead with drink now, and soon they will be only beggars.”
This
happened sooner than he thought. The next day the oldest boy and girl came to
ask the bakeshop woman to come over. Their father was dead.
She
went over willingly enough, for someone had to go. But it was clear that she
did not expect to be bothered with four strange children, with the bakery on
her hands and two children of her own.
“Haven’t
you any other folks?” she asked the children.
“We
have a grandfather in Greenfield,” spoke up the youngest child before his
sister could clap her hand over his mouth.
“Hush,
Benny,” she said anxiously.
This
made the bakeshop woman suspicious. “What’s the matter with your grandfather?”
she asked.
“He
doesn’t like us,” replied the oldest boy reluctantly. “He didn’t want my father
to marry my
mother, and if he found us he would treat us cruelly.”
“Did
you ever see him?”
“Jess
has. Once she saw him.”
“Well,
did he treat you cruelly?” asked the woman, turning upon Jess.
“Oh,
he didn’t see me,” replied Jess. “He was just passing through our—where we used
to live—and my father pointed him out to me.”
“Where
did you use to live?” went on the questioner. But none of the children could be
made to tell.
“We
will get along all right alone, won’t we, Henry?” declared Jess.
“Indeed
we will!” said Henry.
“I
will stay in the house with you tonight,” said the woman at last, “and tomorrow
we will see what can be done.”
The
four children went to bed in the kitchen, and gave the visitor the only other
bed in the house. They knew that she did not at once go to bed, but sat by the window
in the dark. Suddenly they heard her talking to her husband through the open
window.