CHAPTER XII
News From The Lane
“Hmm, hmm, indeed! An’ what is ‘Loo-ee-gy’ anyhow? An’ what is the noise I hear save one them wore-out hurdy-gurdies, that do be roamin’ the country over, soon’s ever the town gets too hot to hold ’em? Wouldn’t ’pear that a nice spoken little girl as yon would be takin’ up with no Eyetalian organ-grinder,” grumbled Timothy, a trifle jealously. Already he felt a sort of proprietorship in Glory and the “Angel” and had revolved in his mind for several nights–that is when he could keep awake–what he could do to help her. He was as reluctant to place her in any institution against her will as she was to have him, but he had not known what else to propose to Mary’s common sense suggestion.
Both Timothy and Mrs. Fogarty watched the open gateway, through which Take-a-Stitch had vanished, for her to reappear, since the brick wall at the foot of the slope fully hid the road beyond.
The music had soon ceased, but not until all the seven had swarmed out of the house, excited over even so trifling a “show” to break the monotony of their lives. All seven now began to exercise themselves in the wildest antics, leaping over one another’s shoulders, turning somersaults, each fisticuffing his neighbor, and finally emitting a series of deafening whoops as Glory actually turned back into the grounds, her hands clinging to the arm of a swarthy little man, who carried a hand-organ on his back and a monkey on his shoulder. The hand-organ was of the poorest type and the monkey looked as though he had been “upon the road” for many, many years–so ancient and wrinkled was his visage. His jaunty red coat had faded from its original tint to a dirty brown; and the funny little cap which he pulled from his head was full of holes, so that it was a wonder he did not lose from it the few cents he was able to collect in it for his master.
But the vagrant pair might have been some wonderful grandees, so proudly did Goober Glory convey them up the slope to the very tree where Mary and her brood awaited them, crying joyfully:
“’Tis Luigi! Luigi Salvatore, Antonio’s brother! He knows me, he knows us all and he’s come straight from Elbow Lane. I mean, quite straight, ’cause he was there after I was. Wasn’t you, Luigi?”
Luigi stood bareheaded now, resting his organ-pole upon the ground and glancing from Glory’s eager face to the curious faces of these others. He understood but little of “United States language,” having come to that country but a short time before, and having hitherto relied upon his brother Toni to interpret for him when necessary. He was waiting permission to grind out his next tune, and not as surprised as Timothy was that the little girl should have recognized his organ from a multitude of others, which to the railroader sounded exactly the same.
Take-a-Stitch nodded her head, also freshly cropped like Bonny’s, and he began. For a time all went well. The seven young Fogartys were in ecstasies, and even their elders beamed with delight, forgetting that the one would be “docked” for his wasted time and the other that the cat and her kittens were at that moment helping to “clear the table” she had left standing. Even Bonny Angel gravely nodded approval from her perch in Timothy’s arms, save when the too solicitous monkey held his cap to her. Then she frowned and buried her pretty face on Timothy’s shoulder and raised it only when Jocko had hopped another way.