“If the snow will only last!” cried Molly Johns, as she took a last peep out of the window on the evening before the “sleigh-ride day,” as it was ever after designated.
“Oh! it will last, lassie,” answered father Johns, cheerily. “Get you to bed, my child, and to sleep, if you can. What honors have we come to, in our humble Side Street! and all because of a little kindness in the first place. Here are mother and you to go sleighing in a grand equipage, with feathers flying and a mortal-proud coachy on the front seat, heading a procession of the wildest, happiest youngsters in the world. Get you to bed, daughter, without a fear. Do you suppose the dear Lord will let anything arise to prevent the joy He has planned for the morrow? No, indeed.”
Nothing did arise. At twelve o’clock precisely, because that was the warmest, sunniest hour of the day, the big, big sleigh which had to be drawn by eight gray horses, it was so long and awkward, drew into place in Newspaper Square. There were other sleighs, too, and every one was heaped with robes and blankets; so that the little half-clad youngsters who were to ride in them should be well protected from the cold. There were horns and trumpets—“What is a ride without a trumpet?” demanded reporter Graham, who provided the rackety things—and bells and baskets of sandwiches, “just to keep one contented till the great dinner came on.”
So they started, and old Jefferson forgot to be a trifle haughty, as he realized that he was the leader of that happy, happy procession. Be sure he led them a lovely road all about the charming park, and then far beyond, into the open country, where the boys begged to be tumbled out into a snow-drift for a regular pitched battle.
The halt was made, for who could refuse such a petition from a lad on his first sleigh-ride? And for as long as the careful drivers would permit their horses to stand, the snowballs flew through the air, and the countryside was made to ring with the wild sport and laughter. All this but aided appetite; and when at last the ride ended in astonished Side Street, before the doorway of the boarding mistress, every newsboy was so hungry he declared he “could eat his hat.”
“Well, you won’t have to!” cried somebody.
There was Doctor Frank, as sure as could be! He wasn’t to be left out of any such good times if he could help it. It was he, with Mr. Graham, who marshalled the lads into something like order and planted them all over the boarding mistress’ house, wherever a spot could be found for them to sit. But, if you please, Mr. Graham kept that tell-tale pad of his right handy, and between whiles how he would write! For he meant that a thoroughly interesting and inspiring account of the day should be in that very night’s paper.
“So that others may go and do likewise!” he thought, and for once without the least concern how much “space” he could occupy and be paid for.