At last it was all over. Everybody had eaten as much as he desired, and the big sleighs came round to convey the lads back to Newspaper Square, to the old lives of labor and, alas! poverty; but which were to be far brighter, for a long time to come, because of that one day’s hilarious enjoyment.
In the cheery back parlor, that evening, Miss Lucy assembled a little group of people. There were father Johns, and Doctor Frank, and Mr. Graham; besides Molly and Towsley—I mean Lionel—sitting cosily together on one of the very same satin sofas of which, such a little while before, they had both been afraid.
With a slight hesitation, Miss Lucy began:
“I believe that this has been the happiest day of my life. I hope it is a happiness which will continue, because it is the beginning of a life for others. But I wish to make that life as wise as possible. I am afraid of mistakes. I want your advice; the advice of every one here present. I mean to adopt this boy, Towsley—the new Lionel Armacost. Tell me, friends, how best can I rear him to be a blessing to his race?”
For a moment nobody answered; then said father Johns, in his wise, cheery way:
“Since our boy here is to be the beneficiary, let us hear his idea of what he would think best.”
“Right, right!” said the reporter, who had faith in all his craft.
“Well, am I to tell?” asked the once shy newsboy eagerly.
“Yes, indeed. Tell freely, exactly; without a particle of hesitation.”