His first and last appearance

Chapter I

Showing how Philip Lachance Sings a Song, How He is Rewarded, and How Policeman Spencer is Troubled by the Presence on His Beat of a Very Suspicious Character 11

CHAPTER IJ.

Showing how Philip and Mr. Dunne, Becoming Friends, Pass an Agreeable Half Hour, and how Mr. Dunne Gets an Idea, Which He Discreetly Keeps to Himself 25

Chapter III

In Which the Reader, Going Back to the Month of November, and the City of New York, is Witness to a Music Lesson that was Never Finished. 34 CHAPTER IV.

In Which Isobel Lachance Finds and Loses Her

Vocation . , . . 47

Chapter XI

A Morning Walk with Surprising Results, Which, as the Reader Shall Presently Learn, Have Much to do With the Fates and Fortunes of the Lachances 10b

CHAPTER XI L

In Which Some Very Pleasant Characters Make Their Appearance, and the Day, Begun So Sadly,

Is Ushered Out to the Merry Jingle of Sleigh- Bells and the Happy Laughter of Joyous Youth 1 1 8

CHAPTER XXI. Isobel Hears the Angels Calling

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Rev. Francis J. Finn, S.J Frontispiece

Ornamental initial I i

“ Fie looked like an anarchist ” 14

“ Philip began to feel that the world was out of joint ” . . . 17

“ ‘ O holy night ! the stars are brightly shining,’ sang Philip r ’ . 19

“ ‘ This is nice, isn’t it ? ’ said Philip, pausing between the spoonfuls ” 27

“ Marie is plying a busy needle, with all the airs of an industrious

matron ” 37

“ ‘ Mamma,’ said Philip, ‘aren’t you sick? O! how hot your

hand is ’ ” 39

“ Professor Himmelstein coaxed Philip’s voice higher, higher, till the

room was filled with golden sweet throbbing little notes ” . . 43

“Isobel, kneeling before the statue of the Blessed Mother, was

praying for further light ” 49

'< ‘You are troubled, dear mother. What is it ? ’ ” . . . . 55

“ She had been a bread-winner long enough to know that it is worth

while looking many a time before leaping once ” .... 61

“Seated, tense and eager, on the edge of the chair . . 67

“‘Isobel, on my knees, I ask you. Once, just once, let me haf

my leetle poy to appear in public ’ ” 73

“ He walked or rather staggered away ” . 79

“After the manner of Sousa ” . . ...... 89 io List of Illustrations.

PAGE

“ Philip, not without reason, admires himself” . 95

“ Philip was lying quite still ” 103

“ The Sisters came to Isobel’s assistance ” . 1 13

“ The coming Sousa amuses himself ” ........ 119

“Three little girls from school ” 125

“ Our Sisters go to the Holy Angels’ Academy ” 129

“‘Look at that funny man,’ cried Edna” 135

Philip listens to Professor Himmelstein’s recollections of the Arabian

Nights 143

“His first appearance ” 167

“On Philip’s appearing, . . . Walter said ‘Gee !’” . . 173

“‘Listen, Marie,’ she said presently” 191

“ Charlie and Marie literally threw themselves upon the timid old

“Several minutes were spent in the exchange of warm greetings” 203

HIS FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE.

Chapter I

SHOWING HOW PHILIP LACHANCE SINGS A SONG,. HOW HE IS RE- WARDED, AND HOW POLICEMAN SPENCER IS TROUBLED BY THE PRESENCE ON HIS BEAT OF A VERY SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER.

T ought to have been a gloomy day, but it was not. Although the hands of the City Hall clock announced to the people of Milwaukee that it was only three in the afternoon, the streets were shrouded in a premature twilight. The sky above was of a dull, dead, slate-color, and the wind below was sobbing when it ceased to howl. It was in a cutting humor, and its wings were of ice. It was a bitter, biting, clamorous northeaster, and when it nipped noses it left them red and their owners gasping. So, I repeat, it ought to have been a gloomy day. However, there are other circumstances besides the weather to be taken into account ; and, moreover, the weather on this occasion had its redeeming fe-atures. After all, one does not expect sunny skies and longdrawn afternoons and balmy airs in mid-December. Then it was snowing — snowing in a quiet, steady, deliberate manner. The large, fluffy flakes came down thickly, leisurely; and snow in December, as every boy and girl will admit, is a glorious thing. It gives promise of merry sleighing to the joyous jingling of many bells, and of strong forts and of jolly snow-ball fights; best of all, when it comes in mid-December — it was now the seventeenth of that wintry month — it whispers to the hearts of the young that gladdest of news, “ Christmas is coming ! ”

But if the snow and the bitter wind left any doubt as to the near advent of that joyous day, there were signs galore, on this particular afternoon, which established it to a certainty. Rosy-cheeked matrons — they were all rosy-cheeked in this bracing weather — were pushing busily along the street, carrying bundles which hinted of toys, and pretty gifts and Christmas trees. They wore an air at once joyous and mysterious — joyous because they were shopping for the dear little ones at home; mysterious, because, doing good by stealth, they feared the possibility of detection. And the shops — how gay they were with thronging customers and smiling, busy clerks and salesmen ! How pretty, with bunches of holly and ivy leaves and mistletoe! Express wagons were in much evidence; evergreen trees, of many varieties, cut and trimmed for their festive appearance in the parlors of happy homes, were to be found at almost every corner, and errand boys wore as plentiful as blackberries in late summer.

The shops on Milwaukee Street, just north of the post-office, were, ot course, in their very best holiday attire. Of them all, none was brighter, none more inviting, none prettier, none more thronged than Conroy’s, the proprietor of which, as everybody knows, or ought to know, is the fashionable caterer of Milwaukee.

In front of this most inviting confectionery, but with his back to it, hopped and skipped a lad of about ten years of age. His little nose was red, and his thin lips looked pinched and blue. His eyes were large, dark, and innocent. They were eyes that looked out into the world as though they expected to find a new friend in every man, woman, and child upon whom they alighted. An imaginative stranger meeting their gaze would read in them the pretty question, “ Aren’t you a friend of mine? ” I am sorry to say that this little boy did not seem to be at all comfortable, as he gazed with absorbing attention — though he continued his hopping and skipping movement — upon the dazzling cuff-buttons, rings, and other articles of jewelry, exhibited by a street vender to a public which refused to be interested. The splendor of this array was splendor without heat; and the boy was evidently cold. His knickerbockers were thin and frayed; his jacket, buttoned close about him, was, in view of the weather, of a light texture, and overcoat he had none. His hands were deep in his pockets, so deep that he was bent forward, as though he were making a back for the game of leap-frog. Having at last satisfied himself with his examination of the wares and stared artlessly at the vender, surveying him, that is, with an extensive view, from top to toe, he addressed himself to chasing large, lingering flakes and catching them in his open mouth.

His First and Last Appearance.

In his not over-successful endeavors he bumped into several people, and, receiving words from two or three of them which were not exactly encouraging, he discontinued the amusement and turned his face toward Conroy’s show-cases, large, magnificent, gleaming, resplendent.

As he turned, there came along the street a man apparently advanced in years. He wore a ragged, fierce beard, long and unkempt; his cheeks were hollow and of a slightly yellowish color; a slouch hat concealed his forehead, the brim hanging down so low that one wondered whether it did not imperil the safety of the dark spectacles which bestrode his prominent nose. His whole appearance — shaggy clothes, long hair, fierce mustache, suspicious hat, and rough beard — gave one the impression of an anarchist. His eyes happening to fall upon the boy, he started violently, and, ceasing suddenly in his walk, he sent a colliding youth immediately behind him into the gutter. ^

£C Look what yer a-doin’, will yer?” snarled the injured lad.

But the suspicious- “He looked like an anarchist looking man gave no heed to this remonstrance ; his gaze was riveted on the solitary little boy, who, now bent lower than ever, was staring into one of Conroy’s show-cases.

Pushing back his slouch hat and readjusting his glasses with a single quick motion of the hand, the man stood stock still for fully half a minute ; then suddenly, and with the air of a burglar, he started for the other side of the street, where, finding a telegraph pole convenient to his use, he stationed himself behind it, and from this coign of vantage continued to stare at the unconscious child, as though he were the only little boy on the face of the round globe.

The object of these attentions was meanwhile enjoying a Barmecide feast. No wonder his eyes grew large; no wonder he forgot everything, save the tempting array under his gaze. There were oranges there — great pyramids, glorious, golden — which would make the driest mouth water. And then that platter of cream puffs! It was quite wicked to put such nice things where hungry little people could only look at them. Cream puffs were not made to be looked at, but to be devoured. And the candies — some of them done up so cunningly in paper that they looked like little fairies bundled up for a winter outing — the candies were of all the colors of the rainbow. To add to their splendor, there was a bewildering array of pretty boxes and many tasseled cornucopias, and toy animals — elephants and cows and camels — whose interiors were filled with every variety of sweets and dainties. The frequent opening of the door, as men and women passed in and out, brought to his nostrils a savory odor, and each whiff from within that place of delight made him feel fainter, hollower. In spite of his sunny disposition, the boy began to think that the world was just a little out of joint.

"It’s a wonder,” he soliloquized, as with changing foot he kicked his own legs and doubled himself up in admiration of the pretty things, so near and yet so far — “it’s a wonder that some bad man doesn’t come along and break in this window. I know I should, if I was bad.” And thus speaking, he pressed his tiny nose against the glass, and fell into a contemplation which seemed to absorb his entire being.

The elderly man across the street, meanwhile, had removed his hat and glasses. The removal of the hat, revealing a head of bushy hair, added to his anarchistical appearance. The policeman on the beat, James Spencer, began to be interested. No one, he reflected, went about with a head of hair like that but an anarchist or a football player. Now, it was plain that he of the bushy hair was not a hero of the gridiron ! and, indeed, with his glasses removed, he blinked like an owl, and looked utterly helpless, and not at all like one who could buck his way through the line. And so he continued to blink, shutting now one eye, now the other, as though he were trying to get every possible point of view of the lad at the show-case window.

The policeman grew interested. No such suspicious character had set foot upon his beat for many a day.

Meanwhile the child continued his ecstasy and the process of flattening his nose. Raising his eyes presently, his attention was caught by the decorations in the upper part of the show-case — the bright red berries of the holly.

l 7

Philip began to feel that the world was out of joint.

the dark green of the ivy, the olive-green laurel, the 'masses of mistletoe and the other holiday decorations. All these things brought Christmas so near that, forgetting his hunger, losing sight of the place and the time, yet still mechanically kicking an alternate heel against an alternate leg, he began humming to himself the song of Noel.

As the ecstasy grew deeper, richer, intenser, the music waxed clearer, sweeter, fuller.

“Ah!” muttered the man across the way, and forthwith he clapped on his hat, adjusted his spectacles to his nose, and ceased to blink, while his face lighted up with a great wonder and a great delight.

“O holy night! the stars are brightly shining,”

the boy had begun, in tones as sweet as they were low.

A gentleman, somewhat portly and well-to-do in appearance, who happened to be passing just then, caught the sweet strains, and turning his head, glanced at the boy, first carelessly, then with sudden interest. He paused, his gaze fixed fully upon the little heel-kicker, who for the sake of the melody had risen to a more erect position and withdrawn his nose from contact with the pane.- As the gentleman gazed, his brows went up in surprise, and he took hold of the ends of his brown mustache with either hand and tugged at them nervously, varying the act occasionally by twisting them between his finger and thumb.

“ It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth,”

continued the lad, his voice growing stronger, lovelier, sweeter with each note. The gentleman gave a gasp of

His First and Last /lppcarance. 19

astonishment. Strains like these, lie thought, belonged to paradise.

So interested was the policeman in watching with growing suspicion every movement and gesture of the strange

“ ‘ 0 holy night ! the stars are brightly shining sang Philip.”

old man, that these delicious sounds fell upon his ears unheeded. The unwitting object of his attentions, now beaming with a benevolence quite in contradiction with the general ferocity of his appearance, produced from an inner pocket a small steel bifurcated instrument, and gazed at it with a smiling mouth and a frowning brow.

This was too much for Officer Spencer ; he had never seen a tuning-fork before. For aught he knew, it might be some new form of explosive.

“ Look here,” he said, advancing, “get ! ”

“H ow?” cried the man, ceasing to smile, and, with a start, turning ghastly pale under the eye of the official.

“ I know you,” said the policeman, at a venture, “ and if 1 see you around here again, I’ll run you in. There, now; clear out ! ”

The man, who was trembling perceptibly, threw out both hands in a rude, deprecating gesture, and casting one lingering, longing look upon the boy, hurried away towards the post-office, where, sheltering himself behind a projection of the building, he bobbed in and out alternately, like a Jack-in-the-box, bobbing out when the policeman’s back was turned, bobbing in so soon as Spencer faced in his direction.

“ Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till He appeared, sweet Babe, upon our earth.”

The boy’s voice took on strength with every word ; there was a tenderness in its full tones, the hint of a sob, which was inexpressibly touching. The gentleman discovered two big tears starting from his eyes, and, in consequence, stopped twirling at his mustache. Three ladies who were about to enter the caterer’s paused and gazed, all of them with raised brows, one of them with open mouth.

“A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices;

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”

Other men and women happening to be passing by paused to listen; surely since Solomon Juneau, the pioneer of Milwaukee, came thither to pass his best years among a savage race, surely sounds so sweet, so thrilling, had never floated away upon the breezes from the lake. A girl of about sixteen, a pupil of the Holy Angels’ Academy, joined the group. Her face kindled with pleasure, and, as she looked at the thinly clad child, softened with pity. Almost instinctively she opened her purse. There was just one dollar in it. She took it out without the least hesitation, and, as the singing proceeded, quietly edged her way to the boy’s side, and, so deftly that no one noticed her action, slipped the coin into the pocket of his jacket. Her home was over a mile and a half away, on the West Side, but when she left the group, presently, she walked the entire distance. You may be sure, though, she did not suffer from cold or fatigue. Her gentle heart was much too warm for that.

The boy, unconscious of the crowd that was steadily growing, now broke into the most beautiful part of that most beautiful song:

<* Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices ” —

“An angel’s voice, rather,” whispered one lady to another. “That boy’s voice does not belong to this earth.”

“ Noel! Noel! O night when Christ was born! ”

The crowd, cold though it was, stood transfixed. The

His First and Last Appearance.

eyes of some were wet with tears; the eyes of others were gazing into the far, far away, as though the night divine, with its precious charge, its God Incarnate, lay before their inspired vision.

“Noel! Noel! O night, O night divine!”

The clear, young, fresh, untainted soprano voice rose and fell, swelled and quivered, then died away on the last note, like the passing of an angel, bright and glorious, from our ken into the regions where sight cannot follow.

The song was over. Some of the listeners rubbed their eyes as though they had awakened from a dream of heaven. Several sighed softly. One sob broke the spell. The boy hearing it, turned, and on seeing the crowd, flushed scarlet. He showed that he wished to escape, and the kindly men and women, willingly making room for him, departed upon their respective avocations. They had tasted deep of Christmas, and were silent.

“ Hold on, my little boy! ” The words came from the portly gentleman, who was again tugging, but with the fingers of one hand only, at his mustache. The other held his handkerchief.

The boy, who was panting and quivering from, shame and alarm, gazed into the stranger’s face, and at once confidence returned. Indeed, it was a kind face, the face of one who had tasted sorrow, and been chastened thereby. The features were regular, and the expression at once serious and sympathetic.

“How do you do, sir?” said the boy, holding out his hand.

His First and Last Appearance .

cc My boy, tell me your name, please. Your face is quite familiar to me, and I’m sure IVe seen you before,” he said, as he shook the proffered hand.

“ My name is Philip, sir - Philip Lachance — and I come from New York.”

Philip, like most New York boys, had a delicacy about pronouncing the letter “r.” He said “soi” for sir, and “shoit” for short, and “New Yoik” for New York; and all these variations from the franker Western utterance sounded very prettily in his mouth.

“Ah!” said the gentleman, looking a trifle disconcerted. “Perhaps I am mistaken; but I was sure I had seen you before. How long have you been in the city?”

“Just three days, sir.”

“Only three days? Then I was mistaken.” And the man gazed earnestly and with a puzzled look upon the frank, chubby, upturned face.

“Were you ever in New York, sir?” As Philip spoke, he gave his left calf a vigorous kick. The man noticed it.

“Aren't you cold, my boy?” he said.

“Yes, sir; it’s colder than I thought.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“ For my sister, Isobel. She’s gone off to look for a job. She wanted me to come along, but 1 asked to wait here. I told her I wanted to look at the things in the windows. My! ain’t they pretty, though?”

“Do you expect her back soon, Philip?”

“Not for half an hour, at least.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes, sir,” came the prompt reply.

“Do you like oysters ?”

“I guess I do, sir.”

“Well, suppose we take a little lunch together. My name is Mr. Dunne — Mr. John Dunne.”

“How de do, Mr. Dunne,” said Philip, gravely, but with much cordiality; and, clasping the strong, fine hand of Mr. Dunne, Philip, with artless cheerfulness, entered the caterer’s.

As they seated themselves at a table in the farther end of the interior, another face took the place which Philip’s had occupied but a few minutes before. The figure — slouch hat, shaggy clothes and fierce hair — seemed to darken the show-case. Its owner gazed long and earnestly at the boy who, seated afar, had his back turned. Suddenly the man whisked away from the window, and with head bent low, beat a rapid retreat towards the north. His flight was presently accounted for, when, stately, majestic, frowning, there passed the fine windows of plate-glass all the majesty of the law vested in the complacent person of Officer Spencer.

His First and Last Appearance.

*5

Chapter II

SHOWING HOW PHILIP AND MR. DUNNE, BECOMING FRIENDS, PASS AN AGREEABLE HALF HOUR, AND HOW MR. DUNNE GETS AN IDEA, WHICH HE DISCRETELY KEEPS TO HIMSELF.

W HILE Philip was eagerly awaiting the order for two bowls of oyster soup, Mr. Dunne again gazed earnestly into the little lad’s face.

He found in it a strange fascination. It was a round, chubby face, beautiful in the soft, tender, vaguely defined curves of early years. The boy’s complexion was pale and clear; so clear and pale that the few freckles upon his face stood out quite distinct. His mouth was rather large, and his throat round and full the throat and mouth which so often go with a lovely voice. His eyes — large and dark, and confiding — were particularly beautiful. They were, indeed, like the mouth, out of proportion with the rest of the face, and, as is sometimes the case, gave the countenance that irregularity which is an added charm. His hair, soft and abundant, was quite black.

At present every feature was in a state of tranquillity, of perfect contentment- Not a line upon it spoke of trial or trouble. It is so easy for the young to shake off all unpleasant memories.

Philip noticed the earnest gaze of his new friend.

“ Mr. Dunne,” he said, calmly, “why are you staring at me so hard ? ”

2 6

His First and Last Appearance.

“I’m trying to trace, you, Philip.” And somewhat out of countenance, Mr. Dunne began to tug at his mustache.

cc I noticed you doing that before,” continued Philip, in the same calm voice.

C£ Doing what ? ”

cc Catching hold of your mustache and pulling at it, as if you wanted to get it loose.”

Now thoroughly disconcerted, Mr. Dunne put his hands into his pockets, smiling sheepishly the while. It occurred to him, then and there, that for the past ten years he had been in the habit of showing emotion by tugging at his mustache. The young gentleman, seated smilingly before him, was the first of all his acquaintances who had ever brought the fact home to him. At the thought of all the remarks that must have been made about this idiosyncrasy, he blushed furiously. Mr. Dunne was sensitive to a fault.

The young inquisitor noticed the red mantling in the other’s face, and grew concerned at once. The look of placidity and perfect contentment gave place to an expression of anxiety. How tender the face grew at once! even in his embarrassment, Mr. Dunne noticed the rare change.

“ I beg your pardon, sir. I’m afraid l have done what I’ve often been told not to do. Isobel has often told me not to ask questions of people. She says I have no tack.”

“ Well, Philip, I’m glad you asked that last question, all the same. It looks very stupid to see a man trying to pull away his mustache.”

“ Oh, 1 didn’t mean that, sir ! ” cried Philip, throwing

His First and Last Appearance.

out his hands, palms upward. “ It doesn’t look bad — that is, I mean, it doesn’t look so very bad— at least, not in yon, sir.” And Philip went very red, as he realized that despite his explanations the situation was not improving.

“Thank you, my boy. Your sister, I see, has taught you to be truthful.”

“ Isobel is all r swered

few words exhausted the

‘ This is nice , isn't it?' said Philip , pausing between the spoonfuls."

have asked me a few questions, Philip, I suppose I may take payment in kind.”

“What’s that, sir?” asked Philip, opening his eyes, and looking puzzled.

His First and Last Appearance.

“ Would you object to answering me a few questions in turn ? ”

“ Oh, not a bit, sir. Here comes the soup,” he added, with a sudden access of cheerfulness. “ I’m very fond of oysters ; and its ever so long since we’ve had ’em.”

As the waitress put down the smoking bowls before them, Master Lachance gazed about the room with much animation. He liked it. It was very bright and pretty. Everything was in perfect taste ; while laurel and ivy gave it the pretty Christmas touch, the bright faces all about him added to it .the element of sweet human life. There were many women, some girls, and a few men seated at the tables ; and the air was fragrant with perfume, and silvery with gentle tones and light laughter. The waitresses, neathanded, gentle-moving, were gliding in and out among the tables, busy, yet bright ; quick, yet noiseless.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” said Philip, pausing between the spoonfuls.

“ I’m glad you like it.”

“ So am I. When I grow up, I’m going to have oysters for every meal ; and I’ll not let Isobel do a bit of work.”

“ Indeed ? ”

“Not one bit — she intends to work for a living, and 1 don’t like it. I like crackers in my soup, don’t you ? No, sir; when I begin to earn my living, I’ll make her dress in one of those things that have puffs on the sleeves, like balloons ; and she’ll play lawn tennis and go visiting in a carriage with white horses, and, if she wants to, she shall ride a bicycle.”

“ And what are you going to do ? ”

<c Oh, I’ll work. And sometimes when I haven’t too much to do, I’ll sing for Isobel, and play baseball.”

“ What sort of work do you intend doing?”

“ I don’t know, sir, yet. I used to want to be a motorman ; but that’s more fun than anything else. I don’t think I could have oysters for all the family on that kind of work. The conductor man gets lots of money from the passengers, and I used to think I’d like that. But Isobel has been telling me that he has to give it back to somebody else ; and so I changed my mind again. I don’t see much sense in collecting nickels all day and making change for people, and then handing it all over to somebody else. No, I don’t think 1 should care for that. What do you think I ought to be, sir? ”

c< I’ll have to know you better, and you’ll have to get several years older before I begin to think of answering that question. So you came from New York?”

“ Yes, sir, we got here three days ago.”

“ Who are ‘we?’”

“ Isobel and myself, and my other sister, Marie, and my little brother, Charlie. That’s the whole family.”

“ Why, have you no father and mother? ”

“ Papa died over five years ago. I hardly remember him. Mamma died just about two weeks ago. Maybe it wasn’t that long, but it seems like a year.”

H ere little Philip’s eyes grew cloudy, and the touching quiver of his voice moved his listener very much.

“ That’s too bad,” he said; “ I’m sorry 1 asked you about it, Philip ; it’s a terrible thing to lose one’s mother. Were you ever in Milwaukee before? ”

“No, sir,” answered Philip. “It’s a nice place, isn’t it?” he went on, brightening suddenly. “I think Grand Avenue is the nicest street in the world, especially up there from Ninth Street, all the way out. Isobel took me walking there; and it was great. They’re all nice people there, ain’t they ?”

“ What makes you think so? ”

“ Because I can see it on their faces. There are lots of nice people in the world.”

“Where did you get that voice of yours, Philip?”

In answer to this question the boy broke into a little laugh. Several ladies turned toward him, involuntarily. It was indeed silvery and beautiful, and instinct with music. When Philip laughed, he drew back his head, and half-closed his eyes for very enjoyment.

“ It’s the best thing I’ve got,” he said, bringing his head back to its usual position and opening his eyes full. “ I guess I always had it. Papa was a musician and mamma used to sing most beautifully — nicer than the birds you hear out in the country when it’s spring-time. Was you ever out in the country when it was spring ? ”