Chapter IX: The New Broom

ONE afternoon, Hepsah was sitting at her work, with a dozen blue-checked long-sleeved aprons fresh from her scissors, when there was a gentle ring at the back door.

"Will you please give this note to Miss Hepsah Lunt?"

The woman took the tiny envelope, turning it over and over while she fixed her keen glance on the boy's sweet face. "He had such a wistful, appealing look," she said afterwards, "that I felt a thrill all over me."

Then she took her scissors, cut open the end of the envelope and read:

"MY DEAR HEPSAH:

"I have lost the recipe you gave me of your delicious muffins. Will you
please copy it once more, and oblige your sincere friend,—

"ADA IRVINGTON."

"Are you Mrs. Irvington's little boy?" asked Hepsah of the messenger.

"Yes, mum, I suppose so," was the smiling reply. "She calls me her errand boy."

"Is your name Irvington?"

"Oh, no, indeed! I'm only Arthur Thompson, mum."

"Hem! Well I never was so beat!" This was said to herself.

Then turning to the boy:

"Take a chair and sit right down. I'll get my recipe-book and write it off in a minute."

But, instead of this, she sat down, herself, and kept her eyes fixed on his face.

He had turned to the window, and was smiling to himself. At last, seeing her still looking at him, he said:

"How pretty that ivy looks, running up the window. My mother had a piece once, and it was ever so green."

"Wait a minute, Arthur," she exclaimed, leaving the room to find Mrs. Olmstead.

"There's a boy down-stairs," she said, resting her hands on her hips, "that I want you to take, and give him a home. You've enough to do with, and it's a duty to give to the poor. If you agree to do your part, I'll do mine. You'd better have him come right off."

"But Hepsah—"

"There's no 'but Hepsah' about it, Mrs. Olmstead. The Bible says, 'He that watereth shall be watered himself.' I know just as certain as I stand here that if you take that child down-stairs, you'll never regret it."

"I'll go and see your boy, Hepsah, and if—"

"Yes, he is my boy; I'm not obligated to leave my bank-book to any one, and if you don't take Arthur, I will. I'm not afraid to leave forks nor spoons either where he is."

When the recipe went back to Mrs. Irvington, a note from Mrs. Olmstead accompanied it, saying:

"Hepsah has concluded to take Arthur. He may come to-night.

"In haste,

"PHEBE OLMSTEAD."

Mrs. Irvington had presented the orphan with a new suit of clothes which Matilda had cut and made for him. During his visits to her son Willie, she had given him some necessary lessons concerning the care of his person, such as keeping his face, hands and nails perfectly clean, his hair smooth, so that from the first, his friends had nothing to complain of.

He came in the evening of the day he had brought the note, was introduced to his room by Mrs. Olmstead, who told him Hepsah would explain his duties to him the next morning.

He was waiting just inside his own door, therefore, when she went down and stepping as softly as possible, followed her into the kitchen.

After washing his face and hands and scrubbing them with the crash towel, he went into the shed and taking out the nice pocket-comb Willie Irvington had given him, smoothed his brown hair as well as he was able.

By this time Hepsah had a rousing fire and was rolling up her sleeves to wash her hands.

"You're so kind, I want to kiss you, just as I used to kiss mother," he said timidly approaching her.

Without a word, the woman caught him in her strong arms, and pressed her lips to his cheeks, brow, and lips.

"You're the blessedest child that ever lived," she exclaimed, choking down a sob, "and as long as I can earn a penny, you shall never want a friend."

Poor Hepsah! How her woman's heart throbbed and swelled. For the first time in her life, her motherly instincts were satisfied. The great craving every human being feels for some one to love, was answered when the timid voice pled, "I want to kiss you as I used to kiss my mother."

"Set on another plate, Ann," she said to the chamber-girl. "You'll find a small napkin in the farther corner of the drawer."

"I thought he'd eat with us," was the wondering reply.

"Well, you thought wrong, for once in your life."

When she heard her mistress in the breakfast room, she went up to see her.

"That child will bring a blessing on this house," she began, her cheeks crimson with excitement. "He's more like your own Sammy, who's been in heaven this twenty years, than any boy I ever saw. I told Ann to set on a plate for him. 'Twill brighten you and Mr. Olmstead up wonderfully to hear his pleasant 'thank you', though I'll confess it's a sacrifice to me not to keep him in the kitchen."

"I'm willing to try it so," was the placid reply.

At half-past eight, Arthur, wholly unconscious of the emotions he had aroused in Hepsah's heart, had finished all his morning work and was ready to start for Mrs. Irvington's to accompany Willie to the public school. He had blacked Mr. Olmstead's boots, run to the grocer's for fresh eggs, scoured the knives, and helped Hepsah water her plants.

"Ask the teacher for a list of the books you will need," said Mrs. Olmstead, "and I will get them for you."

"And run right home to be in season for dinner," added the lady, passing her hand softly over his brown hair.

"I love to stay here, dearly," timidly answered the boy, glancing in her face with a grateful smile.

She kissed his cheek, saying "I'm very glad."

And then he ran to the kitchen to bid Hepsah and Ann good-bye.

"Don't be long away," said Hepsah. And then she sat down laughing and crying to herself at the change that had come over her in a single day.

"It's one thing to work for orphans in general and make up pinafores and petticoats by the dozen," she said to Ann, "and it's quite another to work for one in particular. Now, I'd wear my fingers to the bone for that boy, and think myself well-paid by one of his pretty 'thank you's.'"

"You'll spoil him if you go on so," remarked the practical Ann. "'New brooms sweep clean,' I've heard you say a hundred times."

"I'll give you my word for it, all the petting in the world wouldn't harm this boy. He isn't that kind, 'twould only make him more grateful. Why, I heard him saying his prayers last night, and thanking God for giving him such a beautiful home, and praying for help to be a good boy. That's the kind of a broom that grows better by age, and not worse as you tell about. I wouldn't be as suspicious as some folks are, no—not for a kingdom."

Ann had by this time washed her silver and placed it on the tray to carry to the china-closet, but she set it down to indulge in a hearty laugh. "Me to be accused of suspicion! Me!!" she exclaimed.

"Well," retorted Hepsah, beginning herself, to laugh, "then you needn't accuse me of spoiling Arthur Thompson."