Chapter VII: Red-Haired Johnny

JOHNNY was neither dirty nor ragged now. He had a new suit from top to bottom. Bridget, Mrs. Marsh's girl, had given him a bath and then burned his old clothes up. His pretty auburn hair was nicely parted and curled in heavy locks close to his head. He said, "No, ma'am, I don't want to go back ever." And then he burst out crying.

For a good while, he couldn't tell what was the matter, but at last he said,—

"Oh if my father and mother knew how to work and make the house look clean, and mend the fence, and buy beds, I should be so happy!"

Mrs. Marsh was very glad he felt so. She had taken one look into the hovel and that was enough to enlighten her as to the cause of their poverty. She told Johnny he must learn to write as fast as he could, and then he might send a letter home, and tell his mother all that was in his heart.

In a good many months, he wrote a letter, but it was of no use. Tom his father was lazier than ever, and besides he had begun to spend what little he earned on rum and bad whiskey.

Johnny grew very fast and worked so hard that the lady had to stop him.

Every body in his new home liked him, he was so good-natured and industrious and cheerful. It was only when any one mentioned his parents that he grew sad and began to cry.

Willie Irvington sat very quiet all this time, but now he began to grow restless. And Arthur thought it time to draw his story to a close.

"And so Johnny went on growing good daily," he said smiling, "and learning to read and write till he came to be a man; and every body called him Sir, just as they do your father, you know."

"That's tip-top," exclaimed Willie, "now let's play again."

"I'm going to try to be just like him," added Arthur, his voice expressing deep seriousness. "Every day I pray God to help me; and mother used to say he likes to help boys do right and become respectable men."

"Hollo! Here comes the postman!" shouted Willie. "Run and take the letters."

At the end of the month, Mrs. Irvington introduced Matilda to the asylum as the scene of her new duties. Her plans for Arthur were by this time matured. He was to reside with an elderly couple where he would be required to make a fire in the library, sift ashes, scour knives and run errands, all of which services he could render out of school hours: in return for which he was provided with a comfortable home.

Arthur could scarcely realize his good fortune when told he was to attend school.

"Oh," he exclaimed, clasping his hands, "how glad, how very glad I am! Mrs. Irvington, if Joseph had been a good boy, and not told lies, wouldn't you have let him go to school too?"

"I think it probable if he had shown a desire for learning, I should have gratified him. Why do you ask?"

"Because I met him yesterday, and I knew you wouldn't like me to associate with him, but I asked him to leave off begging, and I told him how wicked it was to tell people his mother was blind when she's only cross. I told him, if he'd try to be good, I'd ask you to let him into your Sabbath school."

"What did Joseph say?"

"At first he only laughed and called me names. But when I told him if he was a beggar now, and didn't try to be anything else, he'd be always a beggar, he grew very angry, and tried to make me fight. So when I found it was of no use, I came away; but I am so sorry he wont try. I lie awake sometimes, and think how he called me, 'Arty! Arty!' through the knot-hole, and I can't help crying, because if he hadn't called me, perhaps I never should have seen you and Willie—and—and be here going to school now and learning to work."

"You can pray for him, Arthur, and when you have an opportunity you can do him a kindness. God is able to turn his heart. You understand the reason I do not wish you to be in his company. He is a bad boy and, at present does not seem to wish to be better. His associates are the very vilest; and he prefers not to change them. A child who is well able to work but chooses to beg his living from others, becomes every day more mean and contemptible. But whenever you see an opportunity to do him good, remember you have my best wishes for your success."

"He is good-natured, ma'am, and he used to be kind to me," urged Arthur in a sad tone. "I always think he did not have a good mother as I did."