“That penny bank is to blame for it all,” said Billy Williams. “If it hadn’t been for the bank, nothing would have happened.” The bank was quite full of pennies that Billy had been saving carefully ever since his birthday. It had been given him then with nine times nine bright pennies to put into it. That was because Billy was nine years old.
One afternoon Billy took up the china bank and shook it to hear it rattle. Really, when the bank rattled, it made Billy feel tremendously rich. There was almost a whole dollar in the bank by now! But right here, out fell one dull penny and it rolled along the floor.
Billy let it roll till it stopped and the rattle of the bank seemed quite as big without the missing penny, so he suddenly decided to spend it—but for what? Why, just at that very minute, Billy felt hungry. Mother was off at work and would not be home to get their dinner till six. Billy was all alone in the rooms over the drygoods shop where he lived with his mother. He had eaten the bread and butter that she left out for his lunch and he was hungry. It suddenly dawned upon him that he wanted a lollypop and that he could find a nice, sweet, red one at the candy store around the corner. “All right!” beamed Billy. He put the dull penny in his pocket and raced off to get the lollypop.
If it hadn’t been for the bank, there would not have been the lollypop. If it had not been for the lollypop, there would have been no penny bank window. So, you see, the bank was responsible. Hardly had Billy bought the red lollypop and torn the paper off than he became quite absorbed in eating it—and he stepped down from the curb at the street corner quite without looking. It was a careless thing to do, for he didn’t see what was coming. What was coming happened to be an automobile that rounded the corner without tooting its horn!
The doctor felt Billy all over and pronounced him a very lucky boy indeed. “There might have been nothing left of you, my son,” said he. “But there happens to be a good deal left in spite of the fact that your foot got bumped into. You’ll have to keep quiet for a while; then you’ll be as good as new.”
“I suppose I mightn’t be so lucky another time,” grinned Billy, “but I guess I’ll be more careful in crossing streets. It’s the fault of the lollypop.” But it didn’t seem very lucky to be hurt and have to sit all day in a chair while mother was away. It was fearfully lonely. Even though Mrs. Finger from the next-door flat brought in magazines and two picture books; even though, after school, some of the boys came in to play checkers and dominoes and they stayed as long as they could when they really wanted to be outdoors with the other kids. Even though Billy learned to knit for the soldiers; even though he snipped pillows for the Red Cross, it was frightfully lonely till mother came home from work.
After he watched the children pass on their way to school one morning, his eyes roved across the yard where the leafless trees beyond shut off the view of the roofs of other houses. Below in the quiet street hopped sparrows. It was cold out there and they found nothing to eat. Billy bent forward and lifted the window. From his breakfast tray that mother had left, he took a slice of bread and tossed it far out. The sparrows darted for it and chirped and twittered. Billy laughed. “Don’t I wish they’d come up here to the window,” he sighed. “Guess I’ll try it an’ see if they will.” And there was one venturesome sparrow who did come! Billy was still watching him when the doctor came for his morning visit.
“If I were you, Billy Williams, I’d start a bird window,” the doctor suggested. “My little girl knows all about bird windows and she’s made several at home. The birds come every day. That foot looks as if it were doing well—suppose I ask my little girl to come in and make you a bird window?”
Billy said he’d like it jim dandy. It really was awfully lonesome. Nothing ever passed in the street. If there were birds to watch, it would be fun. “You won’t forget about the bird window,” he cautioned, as the doctor took up his grip to go. And the doctor said he surely wouldn’t.
Knitting progressed that day rather slowly. All Billy’s bread went into the street to the sparrows. But Billy had reached almost as far as the end of his gray muffler in the afternoon—and the boys had come in from school for a hasty, “Hello, kid, we’re glad you’re alive and gay! We can’t stop because—” Yes, of course, they couldn’t come every day but it was lonesome. Then there came a knock at the door and in came a little girl. She was as bright and cheerful as her crimson cloak.