Divided Skates Part 5

"Well, I'm glad I'm a plumber! There'll be plenty of work for me and my kind to-day. We're not used to anything of this sort down here, and n.o.body'll think to look out for his water pipes. Just listen to that wind, will you?"

"I'd rather not. It makes me think of poor folks without coals, and babies without their milk, and lots of suffering."

"Not so much, wife. Not so much. The coal wagons will be the first astir, and they'll break the roads nicely with their heavy wheels. The bakers and butchers and milkmen will follow mighty soon. The boys that want a bit of money for Christmas will all be out with any sort of broom, or shovel, or even a stick, they can pick up. It'll give work for idle men, clearing the streets, and the liverymen will make a lot of money as soon as it settles a little. Oh! a rousing snow-storm is a good thing once in a while."

"I declare, John, you are the cheerfullest soul. Nothing is ever wrong with you, and Molly is as like you as two peas! But I must say, I wish you wouldn't go to work to-day. I'll worry lest you get overcome or frozen, or something."

"That so? Glad to hear it. Makes a man feel happy inside to know his folks'll worry about him when he's in danger. But isn't it an odd fact that a soft little thing like a snowflake can stop the traffic of a whole city! h.e.l.lo there, Molly! Got my coat and mittens ready? Well, you don't look as if the storm had kept you awake much. Give the father a kiss, la.s.s, to sort of sweeten his breakfast. Are the Jays awake? Hunt them up a spade or a shovel and set them digging their neighbors out. And, Mary wife, if I were you I'd keep a pot of coffee on the range all day. There's maybe a poor teamster or huckster pa.s.sing who'll be the better for a warm cup of drink, and the coffee'll keep him from thinking of beer or whiskey."

"That might cost a good bit, all day so."

"Never mind; never mind. What they drink we'll go without. We're hale and hearty folks, who'll thrive well enough on cold water, if need be.

Thank the Lord for all His mercies, say I."

"Well, breakfast is ready. I'll dish it up while you two have your own morning talk," said the mother, patting Molly's st.u.r.dy shoulder as she pa.s.sed tableward. For the girl and her father were the closest of friends, which isn't always the case between parent and child. But Molly's day would have seemed imperfect without that few minutes' chat with the cheery plumber at its beginning; and he managed always to leave a bit of his wisdom or philosophy in the girl's thoughts.

The three brothers, Jim, Joe, and Jack, known in the household as the "three Jays," came tumbling down the short flight of stairs from the bedroom above to the little first-floor kitchen, which they immediately seemed to fill with their noisy presence. They were so nearly of one size that strangers often mistook one for another, and they were all as ruddy and round as boys could be. Yet their noise was happy noise and disturbed n.o.body; and they good-naturedly made room for Sarah Jane, their "sister next youngest but the twins," as they commonly mentioned her.

Those twins! My! but weren't they the pride of everybody's heart, with their fair little faces, like a pair of dolls; and their round blue eyes which were always watching out for mischief to be done. Their names had been selected "right out of a story book" that their mother had once read, and expressed about the only "foolishness" of which the busy woman had ever been guilty.

"Ivanora! Idelia! Truck and d.i.c.ker! Why, Mary wife, such names will handicap the babies from the start. Who can imagine an Ivanora making bread? or an Idelia scrubbing a floor? But, however, if it pleases you, all right, though I do think a sensible Susan or Hannah would be more useful to girls of our walk in life."

"Oh! I don't object to those either. Let's put them on behind the pretty ones; and maybe they'll not have to scrub floors or make bread, the sweet darlings," answered the wife, when soon after the babies' birth the important matter of naming them arose.

At the moment when the father and Molly were watching the storm from one small window, while the three Jays and Sarah Jane occupied the other, these youngest members of the big family were seated upon a gray blanket behind the stove. They had been placed there by their careful mother, as a safeguard against cold and exposure, and in dangerous proximity to a pan of bread dough which had been set to rise. It was due to the excitement of the storm that, for once, their mother forgot them; and it was not till she called, "All hands round!"

and the family filed into place about the big table that she remembered them; or, rather, had her attention called to them by Sarah Jane, the caretaker of the household.

"Oh! mother Johns! the twins! the twins!"

"Bless me! the twins, indeed! the bread-maker's beginning early, Mary wife!" laughed the plumber.

"Oh! oh! oh! you naughty dears! You naughty, naughty dears! To think that great big girls, almost two years old, should waste mother's nice dough like that!"

The pair had plunged their fat little arms deep in the soft, yielding ma.s.s and plucked handfuls of it, to smear upon each other's faces and curls; and what remained in the raiser had been plentifully dotted with bits of coal from the near-by hod. They looked so funny, and were themselves so hilarious with glee over their own mischief, that there was nothing left for their elders to do except join in the general merriment.

But Mrs. Johns' face sobered soon.

"It's a pity, it's a pity. All that good bread gone to do n.o.body any good, when there are so many hungry people will be needing food before this storm's over. And we almost out of flour, too."

"Seems to me we're almost always out of flour--or shoes!" laughed the father. "And it's a blessing, that, so long as I've the money to pay for either. There wouldn't be empty flour buckets if there weren't healthy appet.i.tes in the house; and shoes wouldn't wear out if the feet inside them weren't active and strong."

"Hm'm. I'd like a chance to save a cent, now and then. What if your own health should fail, or you lose your job? And I've been wanting a set of cheap, pretty lace curtains to the front-room windows ever since I could remember. All the neighbors have them, but we never can."

For the first time a shadow pa.s.sed across the genial face of the plumber, though it vanished quickly.

"The curtains shall come, Mary wife, some time, if my strong arm can earn them. But we'll not have any silly imitation laces at our windows. They're shams, and a sham is a lie. Plain simple muslin, with as many frills and ruffles as you've the patience to keep starched and ironed--they're honest and suitable to our station. Meanwhile, is there a prettier sight at anybody's windows than the row of healthy, happy faces of our children? Look at that great house, across alley, with not a chick nor child in it. What do you suppose its mistress would give for such a batch of jolly little tackers as ours?" Then, reaching across the table corner to drop another hot cake upon the empty plate of the youngest Jay, he quoted, merrily: "'This is my boy, I know by the building of him; bread and meat and pancakes right in the middle of him.'"

Of course, all the children laughed at the familiar jest, and each took heart to send up his own plate for another helping.

"They've had their allowance, John. There's no use to make a rule and break it, dear."

"No, Mary wife. Surely not. That is, in ordinary. But in a blizzard?

Everything gets out of gear in a blizzard, even boys' appet.i.tes. As many cakes as a child is years old is a safe rule to follow; but not on blizzard mornings, that come but seldom in a lifetime. Hark! Quiet!

I hear a bell ringing somewhere. A dinner bell. It sounds like a summons."

All fell perfectly silent for the s.p.a.ce of a half-minute, maybe; then Molly burst forth with a thought she had been pondering:

"What a good thing it was that Miss Armacost had Sir Christopher buried last night, before this snow came! If she hadn't I don't know what she would have done. But--I believe that bell is from her house.

It sounds out the back way, the alley side."

There was a general stampede from the table, that was as promptly checked.

"Come back to your places, every youngster of you! Of course, it's an exciting time, but manners to a body's mother must never be forgotten."

So the flock marched back to the table, and, beginning with Jim, the eldest, each inquired respectfully:

"Mother, will you excuse me?"

"Certainly," came the prompt response.

Even the babies lisped and gurgled their merry, imitative "'Scuse me's," though with no thought of any attention being paid them.

"Folks without much money can't afford to go without manners," laughed father John, and, himself asking leave of the little woman behind the coffeepot, followed his children to the rear window.

For the ringing of the bell was so prolonged and so insistent in its demands that he no longer doubted it to be a signal of distress. But it was almost impossible to see even a few feet through the blinding clouds of snow, and raising the sash the plumber hallooed:

"What's wanted? Anybody in trouble?"

"Help's wanted! Awful trouble!" came the answering shout.

"Where?"

"Armacost's. Will you lend a hand? All afloat and frozen up!"

"Lend a pair of them! Which door will I try?"

"Front. The back one's blocked. Hurry up, please. Have you any tools?

Bring everything!"

"Quite a contract!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed John, closing the window and brus.h.i.+ng the snow from his head and shoulders. "But it's a good thing I always keep a 'kit' handy here at home. Now, lads, you all get to work, too.

There are some pieces of boards in the cellar. Take them and nail a sort of snow shovel together. Never mind if it's a bit rough, it'll be easier than clearing off the whole ma.s.s of snow with common spades or brooms. If you don't know how, ask mother. She's as handy as a master mechanic, any day. Then pitch in on our own front steps. Make a path for misery to enter, if need be, and for comfort to go out."

"What do you mean, father?" asked Molly.

"Some poor creature might be floundering along outside, chilled and discouraged, and a ready-made path to a warm house would be tempting.

Over the same road out, mother's coffee and flapjacks can pa.s.s!"

"Flapjacks? That's the first I heard about _them_," said Mrs. Johns, smiling.