THE HOME THAT WAS WAITING TO BE FOUND.
SAY, say! Miss Manners, what d’ye think?” The tall young woman in the college settlement turned toward the child who had timidly plucked at her skirt. “’Bout—’bout one uv them homes ye’ve—” The pause was so long that the young woman bent over to ask, “Well, one of the homes? What do I think? What do you want me to think about it!” “Couldn’t yer—couldn’t yer git one uv ’em for me an’ daddy?” At this Miss Manners sat down and questioned the child. She found that her own little talk to the children that morning had already sent out a rootlet. Hetty had become interested and was soon won by the pictures which Miss Manners had described in glowing color, of a clean, orderly home, one that was so sweet and bright that all who belonged in it would want to stay, and whenever they had to go away they would keep a little memory of it in their hearts and come back to it as quickly as possible. So she had asked the rather queer question of the bright-faced young woman, who had come into their neighborhood with the college settlement. Of course, Hetty didn’t know just what Miss Manners meant in all the things she had said; but enough of the meaning caught her attention to make her feel that there was a possible brightness in life which she had failed to receive. Miss Manners’ few minutes’ talk with the little girl resulted in their setting off together without any delay along the noisy, dirty street. When they had reached a most uninviting stairway, about which dirty, half-clad children swarmed, and upon which were seated two unkempt women nursing dirtier babies, Hetty took a little pinch of Miss Manners’ skirt between her thumb and fingers and went before her up the uninviting stairs. Up and up they went together, stopping at last before a door against which the child paused to put her ear and listen for a minute before she drew a key from her bosom, by means of a twine string, and unlocked it. They entered a most dreary and dismal place. Hetty closed the door, then went to stand before Miss Manners and look into her face. “Could—could yer git one uv them homes an’—an’ bring it in here, fur me ’n’ daddy?” The heart of the young woman sank. Transplanting the sweet home spirit into such a forsaken place seemed most hopeless. Still, she answered brightly, “I’m sure that if we go to work we can find one already here.” “Here? now?” asked the child, wonderingly. Then she shook her head. Her face fell. Faith in the bright-faced young woman of the college settlement began to grow faint. “Yes, I think that if we try very hard we shall find one. It’s just hiding. It’s waiting for us to find it. But we’ll have to do a good bit of hard work and planning. Let’s look about and see what we’d better do first.” It was a sorry looking abode. The few pieces of furniture were rickety. The window was dingy with dirt. A cot stood in one corner, upon which the ragged bed-clothes lay exactly as they had been left by the sleeper who had crawled from them that morning. “That’s daddy’s bed,” said Hetty. Her eyes ran over to a heap of rags in another corner, which Miss Manners understood to be the child’s own sleeping-place. “We’ll find lots to do,” said the bright voice. Indeed it was the very brightness of this voice which had caught Hetty’s interest and set her to thinking. “Where does this door lead to?” The young woman tugged at a half-closed door that sagged upon the floor. When it was open she discovered, underneath the coal, broken sticks, and torn papers which were almost covered with dirt and with more rags, a bath tub. She was delighted over her find. “Why, however did this come here?” she asked. “Men brung it,” said the child. “Sal Higgins keeps geese in here. Me’n’ dad hain’t got no geese.” It was found later that this was the very tenement-house about which a friend of Miss Manners had told her, pityingly. It seems that in obedience to a good impulse the daughter of the rich man who owned it had been seized, a few months before, with a spasm of interest in tenement-house work. She persuaded her father to order that the agent supply the people with bath tubs. This done, the rich man’s daughter promptly forgot all about the matter and left the poor tenement folk to do with their strange addition according to their own pleasure. Most of them had never seen a bath tub, much less did they know the use for it. They questioned the plumbers or scolded at them for disturbing their quarters. Some threatened to throw “th’ waterin’ troughs out uv th’ windy, shure!” They took up too much room—“enough fur a bed,” cried one indignant tenant. Hetty with only one room, seemed to be in undisputed possession of the bath room for the whole of the back suite. This delighted Miss Manners, who had hardly been able to credit this tale of the tubs when she heard it. But it was true. She was in the very heart of the most squalid ignorance, and was besought to build a home there. “Why, how fortunate we are?” she cried. “We’ll surely find the little home. I’m beginning to see it already.” The child shook her head. “’Tain’t under them,” she said. “But a good big part is inside of it,” Miss Manners answered. “Now we’ll go back to the settlement and make our plans. Some one must help us; but it will be done, sure!” The face of the child did not brighten. If the tall young woman had proposed to buy a home and have it brought there in a big delivery wagon it might have seemed possible. But to go to work and hunt one out of its hiding-place? She knew better. She had been over every inch of the ground and had turned over, at one time or another, every old chair and soap box, every torn paper and dirty, ill-smelling garment. No; it couldn’t be done. Still, she tramped back with Miss Manners and answered the questions that were put to her. She told that her mother had gone to the workhouse, and that daddy came home “most nights.” “Sometimes she wished he hadn’t come, ’cause he hurt” her. Other times he brought things to eat and didn’t swear at her. Just they two were together now. Her big brothers had both gone off to sea, stoking. They didn’t come back any times. Anyhow, they wouldn’t know where to come, because she and daddy had moved since the boys went away. Miss Manners talked with the committee and, accompanied by a stout woman bearing several large bundles, the two went back and began work. It was a sorry job, but patience and hard labor will do a lot. Before night came the little place was as clean as clean could be. Powder and fluid had been sprinkled about, to get rid of cockroaches, and the whole place had a different look and odor. Many things had to be cast out utterly. Hetty objected to parting with some, but yielded when better ones were promised in their place. When all was clean, even to the smallest old dish and dingy kettle, fresh bedding was brought in, along with other supplies which helped to brighten. A cot was put in place of the bundle of rags where Hetty had slept, and she was instructed how to spread the covers. When bright chintz was laid over both the cots Hetty almost danced for joy. Then Miss Manners explained the use of the bath tub, and stood by while the stout woman gave Hetty a brisk bath and afterward dressed her in the clean, plain clothes they had brought over in one mysterious bundle. The soiled garments—all that promised any further usefulness—were packed in a great basket to be taken back to the settlement for laundering. “Persuade your daddy to do the same,” said Miss Manners, “so as to keep this bed nice and clean. Will send him over some fresh underclothes and socks this evening, and we’ll teach you how to keep them clean and neat. Every day you will come to the settlement, and every day I’ll come here to see how you are getting on. It will be hard work, sometimes, but you’ll like it, I’m sure. And every week that you do well we’ll give you a picture to hang on the wall, or a pot of flowers, or some pretty bit to brighten it all.” “You are to learn to cook, you know, dear. And soon your daddy will have such a dear little housekeeper that he’ll be very glad and proud. We’ve found the little home, Hetty, and we must not let it get lost again.” Hetty took up a little fold of Miss Manner’s gown and held it very tightly. The days went by. Sometimes Hetty worked well and seemed full of courage. Sometimes the old slovenly habits in which she had been reared took possession of her and she spent her time in the streets, and ran to hide whenever she caught sight of one of the settlement folk. But this did not last long. Miss Manners was patient, and, best of all, cheery. “Hetty’s surely ‘one of these little ones’ of whom Christ spoke,” she used to say to herself. “I must not lose hold of her, and she must not lose her home.” So the work went on. Miss Manners was constantly thinking of particular reasons for Hetty’s very best efforts. Any holiday or feast-day was made an excuse for certain improvements. But best of all was the daddy’s own birthday, when the little girl surprised him with a neatly-spread table and a delicious dinner all cooked by her own small hands.11 The poor man was so surprised and delighted that at first he could hardly eat. He sat gazing at the dish of steaming soup set before him. Later on, when the fricasseed chicken had been served, and a plain sponge cake, he looked at his little girl’s bright face. Tears came into his eyes. “It’s time I made a bit change myself,” he said. Then he called her to get on her hat, and he took her hand and went with her over to the settlement and asked to sign the pledge. Miss Manners stood beside Hetty and held both little hands in hers while the big hand of the father took the pen and signed his name. “Say, say!” whispered the child, “we did find it, didn’t we—the home fur daddy ’n’ me? An’ ’twas right there, just as you said. Only we hadn’t seen it, for the dirt an’ th’ clutter. I’m so glad you found it for us.” And Miss Manners? Well, she was glad too.—Christian Advocate.