Bo’sn, too, sat on his haunches beside her, closely attentive and, at times, uttering a low, protesting growl. Both child and dog had taken a dislike to this unknown, who was so unlike the usual visitors to the Lane.
Glory sometimes wandered as far as Fifth Avenue, with her peanut basket, and now confided to Bo’sn:
“He’s just like them dressed-up folks on th’ avenue, what goes by with their noses in th’ air, same’s if they couldn’t abide the smell o’ goobers, whilst all the time they’re just longing to eat ’em. Big shiny hat, clothes ’most as shiny, canes an’ fixin’s, an’ gloves, doggie; gloves this hot day, when a body just wants to keep their hands under the spigot, to cool ’em.
“An’,” continued Glory, “he ain’t like the rest, Cap’n Gray, an’ Cap’n Wiggins, what makes grandpa laugh till he cries, swoppin’ yarns. This one ’most makes him cry without the laughin’ an’— Why, Bo’sn, Bo’sn!”
In the midst of her own chatter to the terrier, Glory had overheard a sentence of the “shiny gentleman” which sent her to her feet, and the table, work, and stool into the gutter, while her rosy face paled and her wide mouth opened still more widely. The stranger was saying:
“Of course, they’ll never take in the child. You can go to the ‘Harbor’ to-day, if you will, and you ought. She–oh, there are plenty of Homes and Orphanages where they will give her shelter. She’d be far better off than she is here, in this slum, with only a blind old man to look after her. You come of good stock, Beck, and, with a proper chance, the little girl might make a nice woman. Here–whew, I really can’t endure the stench of this alley any longer. We’ll make it this afternoon, captain. At three o’clock I’ll send a man to take you over, and I’ll get my sister, who knows about such things, to find a place for your grandchild. Eh? I didn’t quite catch your words.”
Grandpa was murmuring something under his breath about: “Slum! I knew it was small but ‘slum’–my little Glory–why, why—”
Colonel Bonnicastle interrupted without ceremony. He had put himself out to do an old employee a service and was vexed that his efforts were so ungratefully received. However, he was a man who always had his way and intended to do so now; so he remarked, as if the captain had not objected to so sudden a removal, “The man will be here at three precisely. Have whatever traps you value put together ready. You’ll not know yourself in your new quarters. Good-morning.”
With that the visitor turned to depart but Bo’sn darted between his feet, causing him either to step about in a peculiar fashion or crush the dog; and, with equal want of courtesy, Glory pushed him aside to fling herself on grandpa’s neck, and to shriek to the guest, “Go ’way! Go ’way! Don’t you come back to Elbow Lane! I hate you–oh, I do hate you!”
The great man was glad to go, nor did he notice her rudeness. His carriage was waiting in the street outside the alley, and even his sister Laura, who spent her days working to help the poor and who had sent him here, could expect no more of him than he had done. Neither his visit of yesterday nor to-day seemed appreciated by that old captain who had once so faithfully commanded the colonel’s own ship.