The Storyteller THE LAW OF THE CHILD

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 11, 14 March 1907, Page 3

The Storyteller THE LAW OF THE CH ILD

Little Jacky Gushing sat on the gate post,- thinking •hard, dacky was in a > quandary. \For the ■ lirst time ia bis five years -he - had seen 'his father* angry, real, downright angry. ' d acky was not much of a phaiosopher yet, but ie did , not take ' a great li'i'g man . phulos<j|pher to> deduce the- conclusion that sonieithii'ng terrible must have happened to put his father .in such an unusual state of mind, lie knew that all the trouble was caused by the next house. Somebody had, bought the old Killmore mansion,* anid that somebody must be an awful man, for his father said all kinds of bad things about him and used long, funny words that sounded' like swear words, and —anyway, Jacky knew there was something wrong about the neighbors who were going to live next- door. And, "that is why hq climibedto the post and sat wistfully (glazing, a<t the next house, trying hiairid to discover why it had cast such a Jgloom on his own home. He was deep in the problem when he was 'aroused by the sound of footsteps upon the brick sidewalk, and, look<ingi up, hej saw a man coming toward him. He was a stranger to Jacky, who knew almosft everybody in the little town, and that" fact alone set him wondering as to the identity of this . man, who was dressed quite differently from any other man, for he had a collar that was buttoned behind, and a big black necktie, and a long 'coat all black. Jacky took in all these details' before the stranger spoke. ' Hello, little man ! ' It was ,such a pleasant voice, accompanied by such a good-natured smile, that it broke down all barriers to the lad's heart and made a confidant of hitn immediately. " Hello I ' .responded J acky, smiling as broadly in his turn. ' And what may your name be ? ' the stranger conUntied/ ' John Alexander Curtis Cushing— but everybody calls me Jaoky. It's shorter.' ' Yes, it's a little shorter, and Jacky's a fine name. 'They used to call me Jacky once.' iSo ? ' said Jacky, evidently impressed. „. ' But say where do you live ? I never seed you before.' <o Tm going to live right next door to you, 'Jacky.' "In the Fillmore house ? ' ' , • Yes.' - Jacky's manner suddenly changed. This must be the very same man about whom his father, said such horrid things. But he did not seem to be a bad man. He had a pleasant face and a nice voice, and he talked to little boys just as if he enjoyed it. Nevertheless, his father must be light, and Jacky immediately made his profession, of faith. ' Well,' he said, ' you must be the bad man.' ' The biad man, Jacky. Why ? ' 1 Because dad said the awfullest things about you, and that there wasn't any luck in your -coming, and that all - priesters ought to be "hung.' Are you a priester ? ' ' Yes, Jacky, I am.' 'Well, what is a priester?*" ' A prielst,i Jafcky, is a man ho trie's to make people good and likes little boys like yo.u. . Here, Jacky, buy some candy.' Jacky hesitated to accept ' the coin offered by this peculiar ~'b\eirog|. He had scruples about being friendly with" such a toad man ; but the 'quarter — a whole quarter, for his own self— looked so shining bright, and. i,t mjade his mouth water so at the vision of all he -could buy for it, that it was " not very strange that his scruples suddenly vanished and left him clutching, the coin as the man in black walked ajway. - '.As" the : man turned into his house he waved his " fiand at tine b»oy, and Jaoky, suddenly rememltyerimir; he (had not thanked him, put his hland to his "' mouth - and shouted boldly : - .„' "Say, .priester, thanks for the quarter.' . , "Father Foley laughed heartily as he closed the door behind him, at this, his first welcome to his new ■ parish. It v was no news to him that the very announcement 'of a resident priest had, thrown the whole town into an unwarranted excitement. It had been ouite' 'bearable when poor old Father Burns had come / from hi 5 ? parish, ten miles away, to say Mass every sec~ond Sun/day ; but now to Kave the staid old New

England town made into a Catholic parish with a priest to live in a home- "of his own ! That was quite intolerable. But the great trouble was ..over the house. The Catholics had bought the finest house in town, on which old Deacon Fillmore- had spent a fortune • and the crime was intensified -by the fact that the deed'" was done quietly and before " anybody in the town knew that the place was up for sale. When Richard Cushing had heard of the transaction and learned that a priest was going to be his neighbor, he flew into the rage which had caused 'such a sensation in Jack's life. Nor was his anger softened when he found out that this same priest hadbeen talking to his boy. Jacky broke the news at the supper table. ' Dad, you said the man next door was bad. Well he ain't, 'cause he gave me a quarter ' ' What man ? ' ' The pries ter— with the funny collar and necktie ' ' He's here, is he ? ' ' Yes ; came to-day. - He's ever so nice.' "And he gave you a quarter, did he ? ' sneered the father. « ' Yes,- a whole quarter.' . 'Trying his 'funny tricks already. Wants to convert you, I suppose, "Jacky, you go over there in" the morning and give back that money. Understand? ' Yes, sir..' J/acky understood too well. He knew his father's word was law, especially when he was so angry. But it was a hand struggle to assent to such a command. Besides, he had spent some of the quarter already— five cents for peanuts and one cent for gum, and he had ' chawed ' the gum and eaten half of the ~ peanuts. It was the burden of his meditations that night when his mother was tucking him into bed. "" ' Say, ma ! ' ' Yes, Jacky.' - -~ ' I don't think that priester is a bad man. He's got a nice face, and any one that gives little boys a whole 'quarter—' But the argument was to 0 much for Jacky, and he dropped off to sleep to dream, of men with funny collars who said they made little boys good and gave quarters to them to make them good, and how every little boy wanted to (be good if he got a quarter every time. It was no wonder that Jacky awoke with the quarter haunting him. He did not have his accustomed jovial air at breakfast. Haw could he with such a sacrifice before him ? But he said not a word about it. There was a" lump -in his throat that threatened to do damage if he spoke, so he kept his troubles toi himself, wondering how rOie could make himself right with the good man whom his father called bad. Breakfast over, he solemnly walked out the back door, pulled aside • the loose picket .of the fence—' through wihich he and the former little neighbors often had exchanged visits— and was soon at the back door of the next house. 'Is the priester in ? ' he - asked of the maid who came to answer his timid Vnock. ' Yes, child, come in.' Father Foley was at- his breakfast. He heard the voice and recognised his friend of the previous day. Lome in here, Jacky,' he called from the diningroom ; and Jacky, half-wondering whether he ought to - obey or not, with reluctant feet went in where the man who made boys good was sitting thP mX *nl TK ™t lt , f £ r an ? furt ' ncr Preamble to -breakfast had bmi formulatin g all through some 13 of .i?^ * Cant k66P that " ( l uarter » but I spent • ■-- A -little hand went intp. one ''pocket and d-ew out the remains of the treasure-a dime, a nidkel, andfour ° oPP . < Twi l6h JaCky i placea th * P riest>s P late - There's your old money,' he said, his mouth quivering at this enormous sacrifice The hand went into another pocket and drew out iVXe w?1h mm ii U fc Oh thC W ° rSe fOr wear ' which *2ok its piace with the money. ' There's your old peanuts.' - - ' " ■ find^HTf fc 80 ? 6 *^ e .lse, but Jacky could not - tta otter till a n n\ W ri into his pockets ' one a «<* fn^tS ** b s era but with no JackfTnd 7 ?h c !! "t aYe t0 -P^««>«t the gum,' said • mouth. then .«e remembered. The gum was in his ball A beWeL S^ n VS ' ! J Was rolled into a tiny •" tte 1 o'theTLasur^ 11^ hand \ and ™ then laid .wi£

• ' It's all chawed and the sweetens out of it, but you can use it yet. G-uin will last a long tame ii you don't swoller it..' Father Koley burst into a hearty laugh, and JacKy took advantage of the distraction to run from the house, • heedless of Mora's calling 'him to- have a cooky. But. what was the use of /baking things if you had a father that made you give "them^ bacK ? oux, through the hole in the ience into his own domain again, went Jacky. But he did not go near anybody in the house. -He was angry with* Uiem all. He heard his mother talking in the kitchen and was tempted to tell her that he had given back everything, but he would not. lie ran upstairs to his little room, and only then did his courage fail him completely ; burying his face in the piflows, he wept over the first tragedy' of his -life. During the succeeding days Jacky kept out of the priester's way. He might oiler him more quarters, and you can't expect a little boy to refuse such things all the time, even from a bad man. So whenever he saw Father .Foley approaching, he made his escape in another direction. He felt ashamed of himself and realized that there was_ something not quite right in giving back what a man gives you— so what_ was : the use of making believe you were friends whenyou'were not r Father Foley had observed the tragedy of the whole affair. He had 1 laughed when the lad b>rou|ght back the " spoils, though he pitied the child- and regretted the prejudice of which he was the victim. But -he made no further attempt to gain the friendship of Jacky. Mr. Cushing was opposed to him— openly opposed to him — in fact, had aired his views about the inexpediency of allowing a priest to live in the town. But Father Foley was not the man to be disiquieted by such treatment. His people loved him. Gradually it became known that the new priest was bettering the town ; that he was the foe of vice ; ever the first for law and order.- The old prejudice began to" die away, and many ■of his most bitter opponents became his admirers. But one man held to his preconceived notions, and that man was Jack's father. In his heart he saw the priest as he was— the soul of kindness and honor —but his pride did not suffer him to acknowledge it. He 'was half ashamed that he had. been so brutal with Jacky for having made friends with the priest, but the lad never broached-' the subject to him, and the incident of the quarter was never recalled. Jacky, however, had ideas of his own. He could not analyse his thoughts, but he felt sure his father had made a big mistake in calling the priest a bad man, Nobody else called him that. All the little boys in his school were- always" talking of Father Foley' s kindness to them, and if little boys did not know a good man from a bad man, well, Jacky Cushing was sadly lacking in experience. Very often he approached the broken fence— with the intention of renewing his- visit —to run the risk of having Nora offer him one . of those enticing cookies ; but somehow or other, " he' guessed it was not quite square to his father, and so he refused to commit himself.' For- two months he continued this struggle with himself, and then he forgot all about it ; but it required no less an event than the approach of Christmas to put him in harmony with the world once more. It couldn't be expected that : a boy should worry over anything at such a time, except the things, he wanted Santa- Claus to bring him ; and of - course, "if a boy was cross and .disobedient^ old Santa was apt to slip .by" without noticing him ; so it was best to be good 'and jolly even ,if a fellow did have to give back . nineteen cents out of a quarter. But these days of eager planning were destined to have a shadow N cast upon . them. Fajbhier Foley was going to have a Christmas . tree. The ' Irish kids ' told Jacky all about it. Jt was to be a great big' tree, not like the little scrubby pine that his father had in the front parlor every Christmas, hut a real truly Christmas tree, that had something on it for everybody , and there was going to be a . show and singing songs and speaking' pieces. For the second time in his life Jacky wished that he could be an ' Irish kid,' too, and have nice generous- priesters ari"d big "Christmas trees'. Christmas morning; found him again tempted, to forget ..his next-door neighbor, for the joy of a new- drum and a horn, and a train of -cars- and ever so ~ much candy, was balm enough 'for any wound, but- as the day wore on, and the candy was gradually stored .away," and the drum and ho~n and train -were put by because, they made so ■ much noise, the thought of th© big '.tree made him despise the poor little bush, now

robbed of all its fruits, and pitiable in its barrenness. He sat at the window and watched the, snow .falling. His father said it was the wildest storm he had ever seen on Christmas,. Jacky was 'half glad. Perhaps it would storm and storm, and then there wouldn't be any Christmas tree, and the ' Irish kids ' wouldn't be crowing over, him because his church didn't have threes. Why didn't Ms ' church • have Christmas trees,, anyway ■? 'He was tempted to ask the question at supper, but he had a ,- clear idea that that was a religious difficulty,' and hence dangerous for the priester's reputation ; and so he ate his supper in silence and worried along the time till the con>mand came for him to go to bed. But there was no sleep for Jacky. He could see that Christmas tree,.- big as a house, and high as the elm tree in his front yard, all dike a. fairyland, with ever so many lights and sparkling things and presents for everybody. He was sure there was a present there for him ; that is," if Father Foley . saw him there. And why shouldn't Father P^oley see him there ? It was a happy thought. If he only could go to the church and peep in, and sec the' tree, only just for a second ; and perhaps he would be invited in and be given his present. Then he would come home and go to hed again, and no one at home would be the-wiser. All the company was. in the parlor singing and talking and laughing. No one cared for a little boy — only to take away his Christmas presents because he made a noise with them, and then send him to bed early, away from all the good times. He just wouldn't stand it ! It did not take him long to dress. It was rather a testy operation in the dark, but Jacky was never a Beau Brummel, and the fear of looking untidy was scarcely enough to keep him from'a Christmas tofoe. It was risky perhaps to vent/ure 1 out in the storm without his rubbers and heavy coat, but what was the use of asking a mother to find them ? She would be so unreasonable as to keep a fellow in and send him back to bed ; and so Jacky crept down the back stairs and out into the night. Hastily he glanced at the priest's house. Perhaps he would meet Father Folcy. But the house was all dark ; every one was at -the church. It was hard on the little legs trudging along in the deep snow, 'but the .goal was in sight, and he soon fo.und himself at the xloor of the church. There.it was ! the gorgeous tree : Ch-, so large and so beautiful ! No one noticed him, so Jacky walked in boldly and tpok a seat in the last pew, where he remained, eagerly watching the tree and the improvised stage, where the entertainment was going on. He soon forpot that he was an intruder, so interesting was the glorious spectacle, which quite surpassed all his former experiences. All too soon it ended. But then began the most interesting part'of the performance— the coming of Sanla Claus to distribute his presents. Jacky clapped his hands for joy. He wondered if Father Foley had told Santa about him. But perhaps Father Folev did not like him after he gave back the money. Despite his misgivings, Jacky sat there and listened to the names of the ' Irish kids ' being called and saw them go up to receive a smile and a gift from old Santa. But alas ! no John Alexander Curtis Cushing Vas called. A lump arose in the lad's throat. The priest did not like- him any morp.,_ and so, while the children were singing the Adesle Fideles to close the evening's performance, Jacky ran out and down the street, angry with the priest,' with Santa, .and with*Uiat old Christmas tree; and there was something? like the sob of a child mingling with the moan of the night wind.

When Father Foley,, happy at the success of his first Christmas tree, turned homeward, the snow was still falling. The streets were blocked and he made his way with difficulty. As -he passed the ■ Cushing house, involuntarily, he glanced up at Jacky's window. , ' Poor Jacky ! ' . he s,aid to - himself. ' I hope "he , enjoyed Santa Claus.' ,' " , " Jlacky ! Was he dreaming ? No, it could not be! and yet it was— it was Jacky lying there at the gate, apparently lifeless ! Jn a moment he 'had the b'ov in his- arms, and bearing him to "the house still brilliantly lighted, he' rang the be-11 violently. Impatient of the delay, the priest 'thought it was an age before the door was opened by Mr. Cushing himself. ' It's Jacky,' said Father Toley ; 'he was lying in the snow and is nenrlv frozen.' • . _ The father was silent : his ''heart seemed to stopi beating as he beheld his little son in the enemy's arms. Then—' Thank God he is alive,' he whispered, brokenly. ' I will "ta^e him upstairs before I tell his mother. You will come— Father ?'

The priest nodded, assent and followed to.Jacky's room.- In a moment his overcoat was oft and he was working over the boy while Mr. Cushing sought his wife. When he "returned, Jacky 's eyes m. were open, eagerly taking in 'the strange scene, while his -little brain was trying hard to understand the presence of his father's enemy, the ' priester. '> La/ter lie told tttiepa'all — his longing for the .Christmas tree, his departure, his disappointment, and then the struggle homeward, when he fell at the' gate, unable to rise or to ' call for help. „ ' You have saved my boy's. life, Father,' said Mr. Cushing, as he grasped the priest's hand and held it, ' and' I thank you, and ask you to forgive my — my brutality. "Hereafter I hope we will "befriends as well as neighbors.' ' I hope so,' said the priest, ' for Jacky and t I were always friends.' ' Jacky could hardly believe his senses. Was he dreaming again ? Did he really see his father shaking hands with the priester'? / And did his father say the priester saved his life'? The pries ber was a good marf after all, and little boys were right sometimes. That fact brought more joy -to J acky than if he ' had received all the Irish Christmas tree. ' Good night, Jacky,' said the priest, turning to go% "Good night, priester,' said Jacky, ' but; say, I suppose you ain't got that nineteen cents I lent you that day ?' And Jacky got back his nineteen cents with interest. — Donahoe's Magazine.