Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1881-12-23

behind him. He pauses moment on tbs
landing. The door of the room adjoining
the Johnsons' stands open. and he observes
that the room is vacant. He steps in an(
finds glazier setting pane of glass. Il
is pleasant room. with an open fireplace
the rear parlor-chamber of an old-fashion-
ed house, and it has been newly papered
and painted. It communicates with the
sitting-room where the children and their
mother live.
sis this room rented p he asks the gla.
Zier.
"Gufss not.''
''Where IS the agent 20
Number seven, Court street,
''Ihank you!'' Mr.. Halliburton Todd
glances around the room again, mods de-
cisively. and hurries down stairs.
What becomes of him for the next hour
we will not inquire. A man is entitled to
ave little time to himself, and it is not
polite, even in stories, to be pEying into
I'll the doings of our neighbors.
The next glimpse we get of him, he is
sitting in the study of the rector of st.
Matthew's, explaining to that gentleman
what he wishes to do for these two little
parishioners of his.
Just like you," cries the minister.
But who are the children 20
s'Their name is johnson, and they live
in tenement house on Denison street,
number forty fye''
''Ah, yes. Their father was the master
of bark in the African trade, and he was
,ost on the West coast a year and a half
ago. Nothing was ever known of his fate
excepting that portion of the vessel bear
ing its name, Ruby was washed ashore,
somewhere in Angola. think. They had
home of their own, bought IN flush times
and mortgaged for half it's value, but in
the shrinkage everything was swept away
They have lived in this tenement now for
nearly year, supporting themselves by
sewing. I suspect they are poor enough
but they are thoroughly independent; it
is hard to get chance to do anything for
them. You seem to have outfanked
them.''
''Oh, no; I'm not much of strategist; l
moved on their works, and captured them.
It's nay sel6shness; want to hear Thurs
ny and Cary with those children's ears TO-
night, that's all. And if you will kindly
write a little note, assuring the mother
that will MT eat her children, the boy
will call for it. And now, good-morning
shall see you next summer in the woods. y
The rector presses his friend to tarry,
but he pleads business, and hurries away.
Now he mysteriously disappears again.
After few hours we find him seated be-
fore the CRATE, in his cozy room at the Par
ker House; the telegram has gone to Gin
cinnati with the bad news that he is not
coming; the oratorio tickets have been
purchased; dinner has been eaten; there is
time for rest, and he is writing few let
tiers to those nephews and nieees who know
by this time. to their great grief, that they
will not see Uncle Hal tomorrow.
Meantime, the hours have passed cheer
lily at the little room of the Johnsons, on
Denlson street; for, though the kindness
of their unknown friend could not heal the
hurt caused by the hardness of their
greedy employer, it has helped them to
bear it. Ben has brought from the rector
an enthusiastic note about Mr. Todd, and
the children have waited in delighted an
ticipation of the evening. Promptly, at
half-past seven, the step of their friend is
on the stair, and his knock at the door.
"Come in, sir!'' says Ben. 1t is very
different voice from at of the boy who
was talking at Jackman & Company's en-
trance few hours ago.
''This has been day of great expecta-
tions here,' says Ben's mother. II do not
know what could have been promised the
children that would have pleased them
more. Of music they have had a passion
ate love from infancy, and they haven't
heard much lataly."
well, they SHALL have tonight the best
that Boston affords" says Mr.. Todd.
"Now. you must tell me your name. my
boy. We want good understanding be-
fore we start.'
"Ben. sir, is what my mother calls me- q
"Ben johnson, eh? A frst-class name,
and famous one. Correct" laughs Mr..
Todd. "And now, will the little lady tell
me her name?''
Ruby, sir. is all there is of it, answers
the maiden.
well, Ruby says Mr.. Todd, ''your
;u bo hoo 4 = i
enough what there is of it, and there g
enough of it, such as it is. Now, you want
to know what to call me. MY names
Uncle Hal. That's what lot of boys and
girls out West would have been calling
me tomorrow if hadn't missed the train;
and if you'll just let me play, tonight,
that I'm your uncle, shall have a great
deal better time.''
So they go off merrily.
Music Hall is packed from floor to top
most gallery. On either side of the great
organ rise the ranks of the chorus, eight
hundred singers; the orchestra is nassed
in front; the sololsts are just entering, to
take their places at the left of the conduc-
tor.
There's Miss Cary" cries Ruby, eager
ly.
Mr.. Todd points out to the children the
other singers whom they do not know
and, while he is speaking, the click of Mr.
Zerraha' IS baton is heard, the musicians of
the orchestra lift their instruments, and
the glorious strains of the overture burst
upon the ears of the wondering children,
But no wise historian will try to tell
about this evenings mucic, nor how Ruby
and Ben enjoyed it. More than once, in
the rush of the great chnruses, Ben finds
himself catching his breath, and there is a
rosy spot all the while on Ruby's cheek
and dazzling brightness in her eye. Mr..
Todd watches them, momently; he listens,
az ha said with thoir 90 re oc mall o. ~.