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Updated: June 18, 2025
She's dreadful fat, Mother Molloy is. She gets real good stuff to eat, 'cause the kids she keeps regular are on the best streets; and the 'coons' that live in the big houses save a lot for them. One of the boys works your kitchen, I believe. And there's Mary." Miss Armacost rose and led the way to the basement. She was very much perplexed.
It was nine o'clock in the evening when Miss Armacost re-entered the room and touched another electric button. Instantly the place was flooded with light, and then she discovered the child. "My, my! what a start that gave me! That boy here yet! What in the world shall I do with him? The threatened snow-storm has come and seems like the beginning of a blizzard.
After you have attended him to bed, come to me. I will have something else for you to do." Jefferson was good-natured and devoted to Miss Armacost; but he liked things to go along in an orderly way. Commonly, he would have been through with all his tasks for the day, and he looked with something like disgust at this dirty street arab who was thus turning the household "all tipsy-topsy."
But let's have dinner first; and, Mary wife, when I go back I'll take a pot of coffee and a bit of this hot stew for our neighbor." "Which neighbor, John?" "Miss Armacost." "Miss Armacost! What in the world would she, with all her luxuries, want with stew from our plain table?" "Well, the boiler in her kitchen burst this morning.
It was all very quickly settled, as everything is into which the heart really enters; the happy boarding-house keeper started for market with injunctions from Miss Armacost to "spare no expense and select the best," and quite sure in her own heart that her labor would be well paid for.
"To Druid Hill!" said Miss Lucy, briefly; and Jefferson drove briskly away. For some time neither of the occupants of that warm back seat said a word. Each was too thoroughly engrossed by his and her own thoughts; but finally Miss Lucy stole a glance toward her small companion and inquired: "Do you like sleighing, Lionel?" "Yes, Miss Armacost. Only it all seems like like make-believe.
So with a mere nod of his head, old Jefferson whisked the newsboy into a corner of the cushioned seat and Miss Armacost followed without assistance; but her doing so made Towsley remember something and sent a blush to his pale cheek. That was, the manner in which real gentlemen helped their women folk on any similar occasion.
Towsley had taken his ragged cap in his hand, fastened his torn jacket by its one button, and was shuffling carefully along the hall toward the front door. Miss Armacost espied him just in time. "Wait, child. I've something to say to you. Come back into the light and warmth. It's cold and dark outside." "Yes'm. So I s'pose," he answered, obeying her rather reluctantly. "Don't you want to stay?
"She understands!" he thought, and then he nodded to her with a happy smile. A second later, with a hurried, "Wait a minute, fellows!" he had darted back into the breakfast-room and, now indifferent to the stares of his comrades, flung his arms about the lady's neck, crying: "It's all right, dear Miss Armacost! I'm not a-going to run away with them.
John Johns knows a heap. Come on. Just mind your manners, sharp." Thus beguiled, Towsley shuffled on his worn shoes after his more confident guide into a distant, sunny back parlor. There Miss Armacost had laid aside her hat and wrap and sat resting in an easy-chair. In its depths she looked even smaller and frailer than she had done out of doors, but also very much more determined and at home.
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