Ester Ried Yet Speaking Part 14

Roberts sugared and creamed and poured cups of such coffee as those fellows had never even _smelled_ before. If you think they were embarra.s.sed to the degree that they could not eat, you are mistaken.

They were street boys; their lives had been spent in a hardening atmosphere. Directly the first sense of novelty pa.s.sed away, and their poorly-fed stomachs craved the unusual fare served up for them, the fellows grinned at one another, seized their silver spoons, and dived into the stews in a fashion that would have horrified every servant in the house.

How they ate! Oysters and coffee and pickles and cakes and jellies!

There seemed no limit to their capacities; neither did they make the slightest attempt to correct their table manners. None of them paid any outward attention to their "sheets," although Alfred and Gracie spread theirs with elaborate care; they leaned their elbows on the table, they made loud, swooping sounds with their lips, and, in short, transgressed every law known to civilized life. Why not?

What did they know about civilized life?

Nevertheless, not one movement of young Ried escaped the notice of some of them.

He tried still to carry on a conversation; though the business of eating was being too closely attended to on all sides to let him be very successful.

Gracie studied _him_, and was not only interested in his efforts, but roused to make some attempts herself. What could she talk about with such people? School? The Literary Club? The last concert? The course of lectures? The last new book that everybody was reading? No, not everybody; a.s.suredly not these seven.

On what ground _was_ she to meet them?

Yet talk she must and would. Mr. Ried should see that she at least _wanted_ to help.

CHAPTER XIII.

"LET US BE FASHIONABLE."

One feature of the hour was not only entirely new to the boys, but gave them a curious feeling, the name of which they did not understand.

When the last one sat back in his chair, thereby admitting himself vanquished, Mrs. Roberts, looking at the young man who sat at the foot of the table, said:--

"Will you return thanks?"

What did that mean? To be sure they had heard of thanking people, but even _they_ were aware that it was an unusual thing for persons to demand thanks for themselves. They watched; behold, the young man bowed his head, and these were the words he spoke:--

"Dear Saviour, we thank thee for the joys of this evening. We pray thee to teach us so to live that we may all meet some day in our Father's house. Amen."

The boys looked at one another, then looked down at their plates. Their sole experience of prayer was connected with the South End Mission. To meet it at a supper-table was a revelation. Did the people who lived in grand houses, and had such wonderful things to eat, always pray at their supper-tables? This was the problem which they were turning over in their minds.

Returning to the parlor, Gracie went at once to the piano. She had spent a good deal of Monday, settling the question of what to play, and had chosen the most sparkling music she could find. I am anxious to have it recorded, that, all uncultured as they were, these boys neither talked nor laughed during the music, but appeared at least to listen. It was Dirk Colton who sat nearest to the piano, and who listened in that indescribable way which always flatters a musician.

"Do you like it?" Gracie asked, running off the final notes in a tinkle of melody.

His dark face flushed a deep red.

"I dunno," he said, with an awkward laugh; "it's queer sounding. I don't see how you make so many tinkles. Do you make all your fingers go at once on those black and white things?"

"Not quite; but sometimes they have to dance about in a very lively fashion. I have to keep my wits at work, I a.s.sure you."

"Is it hard to do?"

"Not very, nowadays. When I first commenced, the practising was horrid; I hated it."

"What made you do it, then?"

"Oh, the same reason which makes people do a great many things that they don't like," she said, lightly; "I wanted the results. I knew if I worked at it steadily the time would come when I should not only enjoy it myself, but be able to give pleasure to other people. Why? Don't you ever do things that you don't particularly like?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and bestowed on her a very wise look.

"Often enough," he said fiercely, and he thought of his drunken father.

"But then I wouldn't if I could help it."

"That would depend on whether you thought the thing would pay in the end, would it not?"

Then, without waiting for an answer, she asked "What is your business?"

"My business?" with a curiously puzzled air.

"Yes; how do you spend your time?"

"Hunting up something to eat," he said, with a grim smile; visions of his aimless loafing appearing before him as the only occupation he could be said to have. It had not occurred to him to try to mislead her, but she evidently did not understand.

"Oh, yes," she said, seriously, "so I suppose. Isn't it queer how busy men and women have to be day after day, and year after year, just getting themselves and others something to eat? Do you have other people to help get it for? Mother, for instance, and little brothers and sisters?"

"I've got a mother," he said, "and a sister."

"And that makes work easier, does it not? I always thought it would be stupid to work all the time just for one's self. But I meant, What do you work at in order to get the something to eat,--there are so many different ways?"

"How do you know I work at all?"

Dirk's voice was growing sullen; a consciousness that he would appear at a disadvantage in admitting himself an idler in a busy world was dawning upon him as an entirely new idea. At his question, Gracie turned on her music-stool and regarded him with surprise.

"Why, of course you work," she said; "people all do."

She was not acting a part. Her experience among poor people was limited to that outwardly respectable cla.s.s who, however disreputable their conduct might be on Sabbath, had, nevertheless a Monday occupation with which they pretended to earn a living.

Dirk shrugged his shoulders again.

"Do they?" he said.

Her evident ignorance of the world made him good-natured. She was not trying to preach to him, he decided. A thing which Dirk hated, in common with all persons of his cla.s.s.

But the lull in the music had started conversation in other parts of the room.

Dirk heard young Ried's question:--

"Mrs. Roberts, do you know of any young man looking for work? I heard of a good situation this afternoon. Oh, there are plenty of applicants, but the gentleman is an old friend of my brother-in-law, and I could speak a helpful word for somebody."

"I have no one in mind," Mrs. Roberts said, and she glanced eagerly at the boys lounging in various att.i.tudes in her easy chairs. Only three of them she knew made any pretence of earning their living. Did Alfred mean one of them? "Here is a chance for you, young gentlemen," she said, lightly, "who bids for a situation?"

"What is the place?"