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Cele went up stairs to look after the baby and when she was gone i got Annie and Franky fiting. it was the funniest fite i ever saw. they jest pushed each other round and tried to claw each other. while they was fiting Cele came down stairs and pulled them apart and boxed their ears and made them go in different rooms.
No more expensive paint-boxes and toys for Franky; Bessie and darling Deleah in shabby hats; Bernard without pocket-money, made a banker's clerk, perhaps she had heard her husband say bank-clerks had no prospects, poor beggars! Bernard her handsome Bernard to be a "poor beggar" !
Sept. 8, 186- brite and fair. the band played tonite downtown. we all went down but mother and aunt Sarah and the baby and Franky and Georgie and Annie who was all two little except mother and aunt Sarah who had to stop and take care of them. the band played splendid and Fatty Walker jest pounded the base drum as hard as he cood. most of the fellers run round and played tag and hollered but i set still. i cant see how fellers can run round and holler when a band plays. they tried to pull me out of my seet but i giv Beany a good punch. when we came home mother asked if i had behaived and father sed i set there jest like a old potato. he sed i dident know much ennytime but when i herd music i dident know ennything.
For Drew had evidently assumed this pitiful disguise on purpose to come and see him. There could be no other object than that of trying to see his friend. Would he be able to speak to him again? "I say, they're keeping a sharp look-out, Franky," came from behind in a sharp whisper, making him start violently. "Don't do that.
I won't reproach you, Franky; for I can't help feeling that you are, as father says, the soul of honour. He said I was to tell you how proud he felt that you were my best friend we are friends still, Frank?" "Of course." "But I have said some nasty things to you, old lad."
She had to call the last words over the balusters, for Deleah, paying no heed to her exhortation, was running down the stairs. Beside Reginald Forcus in his smart dog-cart little Franky Day, to his own delight and surprise, was sitting. He had come running down the street to his tea, when Reggie had accosted him with the agreeable attention of a whip-lash curved round his calves.
One after another drew near to Franky, and looked on with interest as he lay sorting the flowers given to him. Happy parents stood by, with their household bands around them, in health and comeliness, and felt the sad prophecy of those shrivelled limbs, those wasted fingers, those lamp-like eyes, with their bright, dark lustre.
The little, girl turned hawkishly upon him. "Not for anything you can do, Jeff Durgin!" The boy did not answer. "There!" she said, giving a final pull and twitch to the dress of her brother, and taking him by the hand tenderly. "Now, come right along, Franky."
He had not seemed very fond of the child, had often complained of him as a hindrance when Franky had wished to help him to grind the coffee or to clean the currants, yet he had laid by a store of sayings and doings which he drew on now for his mother's ear. Stories of Franky's naughtiness, even: of his partiality for the neighbourhood of a certain drawer which contained preserved cherries.
"Here's the Sunday-school children a-coming to sit on this shady side, and have their buns and milk. Hark! they're singing the infant-school grace." They sat close at hand, so that Franky could hear the words they sang, in rings of children, making, in their gay summer prints, newly donned for that week, garlands of little faces, all happy and bright upon that green hill-side.
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