But before the session was concluded they were treated to a sensation that held them in silent astonishment for nearly five minutes. Any person well acquainted with Alfred Ried could have told that he had a plan in view, and was trying to carry it in the face of some opposition. He looked convinced, and Mr. Durant looked astonished and troubled; there was much low-toned talk between them and some shaking of head. Apparently, however, Mr. Ried came off victor, for his brow cleared, and he presently made his way to Mrs. Roberts' side and said a few words, and must have been gratified by the sudden lighting up of her face and her eager:—
“Oh, what a nice thought! Even if it fails, apparently, it will not utterly, for the suggestion will help them.”
In the course of time the new idea came to the front. There was to be a festival, or a social, or an entertainment at the South End in the course of a few weeks,—a sort of anniversary of the starting of the Mission. Among other work that was in progress, the decoration of the room, involving the hanging of pictures, banners, mottoes, wreaths, etc., required some strong arms and willing hands. Committees were to be formed. Two weeks before, teachers had been appointed to prepare a list of committees. It fell to young Ried to appoint the committee on decoration. When he was called upon for his report, he came promptly forward, like a man ready for action, and commenced:—
“A committee of four has been deemed amply sufficient for decoration, and I appoint for the purpose the following: Richard Bolton, Morris Burns, Miss Gracie Dennis, and Miss Annie Powell.”
The teachers, who had been long at the Mission, looked from one to another with a bewildered air. Morris Burns they knew,—a clear-eyed young Scotchman, with willing hands and feet ever ready to run of errands for all workers; a boy of nineteen or so, whom everybody liked; warm-hearted, unselfish, and thoroughly trustworthy. Annie Powell was one of the older girls in Mr. Durant's Bible-class; a sweet-faced, ladylike little factory girl, who would work in with Morris Burns nicely. Miss Gracie Dennis was Mrs. Roberts' beautiful young friend; all the teachers knew her, and all thought it very kind in her to throw her strength and taste into the preparations as heartily as though she were one of them. But who was Richard Bolton? Nobody knew. Yet their knowledge of business etiquette told them that he was chairman of the Decoration Committee. Where was he? Not a teacher, certainly, for they were intimately acquainted with one another; and they knew no such name in the one Bible-class made up of trustworthy helpers.
Over in Mrs. Roberts' class, with the single exception of the teacher, there was equal ignorance; the nine boys had stopped their restless mischief to listen, because there is a sort of fascination to boys in all the details of well-managed business; they liked to hear the appointments; but who Richard Bolton might be seemed not to occur to one of them. It is true that Jerry Tompkins nudged Nimble Dick in anything but a quiet way with his elbow, and murmured, “You've got a namesake it seem, in this 'ere job.” Yet no light dawned on them.
Mr. Durant, who, it is possible, has not appeared to you in a favorable light, for the reason that he was being much perplexed by the entirely new methods being introduced among the boys who had heretofore driven him to the very verge of desperation, was really a quickwitted man, and having succumbed to what he feared was a wild experiment, knew how to help carry it out properly. He came briskly to the front,—Alfred's committee being the last on the list,—and began his work.
“The chairmen of these different committees will be kind enough to report to me as rapidly as possible the time and place of their first meeting for consultation, and I will make the announcements.” Then he stepped to Mrs. Roberts' class. “Bolton,” he said, bending toward that astonished scamp, and speaking as though this were an every-day affair, “you are chairman, I believe, of the Decoration Committee; where and when will you have them meet?”
Imagine Nimble Dick's eyes! Nay, imagine the eyes and faces of the entire nine! It would have been a study for an artist.
For a moment Nimble Dick was speechless; then he managed to burst forth with:—