But as time passed much occurred to trouble Tim. He had understood only the misfortune that had come upon his brother. Soon the unkind taunts upon the street taught him what shame meant. The bitter anger and even tears of Alex and the insults of the street boys impressed Tim very sadly. When Alex soon resumed his running about in spite of his promises, and was impudent to his mother when she protested, he was painfully perplexed. Then, too, little by little he came to see that his father’s business was not respected, and the fact gave rise to many sad thoughts in the heart of the little blind boy.
CHAPTER THREE
Tim Is Hurt
It was a bright Saturday morning. The sun shone down from a clear sky, and as its glowing ball hung mideast, the rays beat with steady cheer along the gray line of asphalt pavement. It shone along the steel rails of the street-car track, worn bright by the constant passing of the cars. Earlier a gray mist had made all dim. Have you ever watched how the coming of the morning light, as it gradually brightens, changes a morning mist from the darkness as of clouds to a light, transparent film, which is almost ghastly? So on this morning the full light of day had come, not with one splendid outburst, as when the sun rises on a clear sky, but gradually, and it was not until several hours were gone that one fully realized that it was day.
Now the sun smiled in upon every dingy shop and store. No less than its cheer upon a mild winter day was the cheer and bustle of Christmas trade up and down the avenue. In the little show-window were crowded all the toys that little boys and girls love to look at. Along the walks here and there were to be seen masses of evergreen, where the grocer was displaying his stock of trees. But brighter even than the day, for no snow lay on the ground and it even seemed warm; brighter even than the good cheer of the shopkeeper, who sang out a welcome the minute you stepped into the door, came out rubbing his hands, and ready to tell about the wonderful articles he had to sell; brighter still was the good cheer of the children at their play. How happy they were in their Saturday freedom! How happy too, in their Christmas expectations. A company of them had gathered at a certain street crossing on the avenue described and were shouting and running merrily. It was tag and safe, shouts, jumps, and running. They were utterly fearless. And the driver shouted as they dashed under the very noses of the horses, and the motor-man scowled because it was the only thing he had time to do as they rushed past in front of his car.
This particular day had brought joy to the heart of little Tim, also. Louise had led him over to the busy street, and he was now seated on the horse block in front of a house at the crossing mentioned above. Mama had gone away on one of those mysterious journeys mamas will make before Christmas.
Alex was among the boys and girls who were running and shouting about the street, and Tim’s face shone as he sat, looking intent but seeing nothing, and yet following keenly every movement and sound. He smiled to the passer-by and shouted to the children at play. Every now and then some one came near and spoke to him. Miss Merton, his smiling teacher at the Sunday School, happened to pass by, and of course patted him on the head and spoke.
No street-car had passed for some time. There was some delay up the line. A small crowd of people had collected who wanted to go down town. They watched the play as they waited. Suddenly one of the boys, who had noticed the waiting people called out:
“There she comes!”
“Must a been some trouble,” said another.