“Well, be sure and come over this afternoon and we’ll talk things over. The blind kid’s story is very interesting. I should like to do something for him, and we’ll think what can be done. Two heads are better than one, you know, and yours is worth more than mine any day.”
“I’ll come around if I find time,” replied Boxer, for Jack’s tactful words had done their work, and Boxer’s voice had lost so much of its growl that it sounded quite natural again.
“Good-bye, then,” said Jack; and Boxer responded cheerfully, for at heart he was glad to be at peace with his old friend, although his nature was such that he could not have brought it about by himself, even if Jack had met him two-thirds of the way.
“Now he’ll go home and have his bath, and it will cool his brain, and he will be all right by afternoon,” said Jack to himself, as he betook himself to the engine-house. “He gave in pretty well for a bull-dog, and it didn’t hurt me a bit to take more than my share of the blame. My shoulders are broad enough to bear it.”
CHAPTER SEVENTH
IT is time to follow the little blind boy to his new home. After a short time the sleigh turned into a quiet, narrow street and stopped before a small house. There was a look of unusual neatness about it, from the carefully brushed steps to the freshly washed windows and spotless curtains. The small bay window of the front parlor was filled with plants and trailing vines, and in the midst of them hung a shining brass bird-cage, the bird singing so loudly that his blithe voice reached the ears of the occupants of the sleigh.
The front door was thrown open, not just far enough for a person to enter, but wide open as if in welcome, and in the doorway stood a stout woman with gray hair and a motherly, smiling face.