Tode shook his head emphatically. “You don’t know him, Nan,” he replied. “He’s good, oh better than anybody else in the world, I b’lieve, but don’t you see, just ‘cause he’s so good, he hates cheatin’ an’ lyin’, just hates ‘em; an’, oh I couldn’t tell him I’d been cheatin’ him all this time, an’ he so good to me.”

  “I know, ‘twould have been awful hard to tell him, Tode, but seems to me ‘twould have been best,” the girl insisted.

  “I couldn’t, Nan,” Tode repeated, sadly, then impatiently thrusting aside his sorrow and remorse, he added,

  “Come now, I want to know what you’ve been doin’ while I’ve been gone. I used to think an’ think ‘bout you’n him,” glancing at the baby, “an’ wonder what you’d be doin’.”

  “Oh, we’ve got on all right,” answered Nan, “I was worried enough when you didn’t come, ‘specially when one of the Hunt boys went down and found that your stand had not been opened. I was sure something had happened to you, ‘cause I knew you never would stay away from us so, unless something was the matter.”

  “Right you are!” put in Tode, emphatically.

  Nan went on, “I was sure there was something wrong, too, when Tag came here the next day. Poor fellow, I was so sorry for him. One of his legs was all swollen and he limped dreadfully, and hungry—why, Tode, he acted as if he were starving. But just as soon as I had fed him he went off again, and didn’t come back till the next morning, and he’s done that way ever since.”

  Tag had kept his bright eyes fastened on Nan’s face while she talked, and he gave a little contented whine as Tode stooped and patted his head.

  “But tell me what you’ve ben doin’, Nan. How’d you get money enough to hire this room an’ fix it up so dandy?” Tode inquired, looking about admiringly.

  While Nan talked she had been passing busily from table to stove, and now she said, “Breakfast is ready, Tode. Bring your chair up here and give me Little Brother.”

  Tode reluctantly gave up the baby, and took his seat opposite Nan at the little table.

  “You’ve got things fine,” he remarked, glancing at the clean towel that served for a tablecloth, and the neat white dishes and well-cooked food. He was hungry enough to do full justice to Nan’s cooking, and the girl watched him with much satisfaction, eating little herself, but feeding the baby, as she went on with her story.

  “When you didn’t come back, I knew I must find some way to sell my cookies and gingerbread and so I made some fresh and went to every family in this house and asked ‘em if they would buy their bread and all of me instead of at the bakeshops. I told ‘em I’d sell at the same price as the shops and give them better things. Some wouldn’t, but most of them had sense enough to see that it would be a good thing for them, and after they’d tried it once or twice they were ready enough to keep on. Now I supply this house and the next one. It keeps me cooking all day, but I don’t mind that. I’m only too glad that I can earn our living—Little Brother’s and mine. Of course, I couldn’t be cooking all day on Mrs. Hunt’s stove, and besides they have no room to spare and we crowded ‘em, and so, as soon as I got money enough, I hired this room. I’m paying for the furniture as fast as I can. It was all secondhand, of course.”

  Tode looked admiringly at the girl, as she ceased speaking.

  “You’ve got a head,” he remarked. “But now about cooking for my stand. Will you have time to do that too?”

  “Yes indeed,” replied Nan, promptly. “I’ll find time somehow.”

  Tode hesitated, moved uneasily in his chair and finally said, “‘Spect you’ll have to trust me for the first lot, Nan. I ain’t got no money, ye know.”

  “Why, Tode, have you forgotten that ten dollars you asked me to keep for you?”

  “No—‘course I ain’t forgot it, but I thought maybe you’d had to use it. Twould ‘a’ been all right if you had, you know.”

  “Oh no, I didn’t have to use that. Here it is,” and Nan brought it out from some hidden pocket about her dress.

  “Then I’m all right,” exclaimed the boy, in a tone of satisfaction. “I’ve got to get some clothes first an’ then I’ll be ready for business.”

  “What’s the matter with those clothes?” questioned Nan.

  “Oh, I’ve got to send these back to the bishop.” Tode’s face was grave as he spoke.

  “But—I don’t see why. He won’t want em,” Nan remonstrated.

  “It’s this way, Nan.” Tode spoke very earnestly. “If I’d been what he thought I was, I know I could have kept all he gave me, but, you see, if he’d known I was cheatin’ an’ lyin’ to him all the time he wouldn’t ‘a’ given me a single thing, so don’t ye see, I ain’t no business to keep ‘em, an’ I ain’t goin’ to keep ‘em a minute longer’n I have to.”

  Nan shook her head, for Tode’s reasoning had not convinced her, but seeing how strong was his feeling in the matter she said no more, and in a few minutes the boy went out, his face radiant with satisfaction, because Little Brother cried after him.

  He invested half his ten dollars in some secondhand clothes, including shoes and stockings. They were not very satisfactory after the garments he had been wearing of late, but he said to himself, “They’ll have to do till I can get better ones an’ sometime I’m agoin’ to have some shirts an’ have ‘em washed every week, too.”

  Tode’s trade, that day, was not very heavy, for it was not yet known among his regular customers that he had reopened his stand, but he took care to advertise the fact through those whom he met and he did not fear but that his business would soon be prospering again.

  That afternoon he succeeded in securing a tiny room in the house with Nan. It was a dismal little closet, lighted only from the hall, but it was the best he could do, and Tode considered himself fortunate to have his dark corner to himself, even though a broken chair and a canvas cot without bedding of any sort were all the furniture he could put into it then. Nan shook her head doubtfully when he showed her the room.

  “Dark and dirty,” she said, with a sniff of disgust, as the boy threw open the door. “You must get somebody to scrub it for you, Tode, and then whitewash the walls. That will make it sweeter and lighter.”

  “So it will,” responded the boy, promptly, “but I’ll have to do the scrubbin’ an’ whitewashin’ both, myself.”

  Nan looked at him doubtfully. “I wonder if you’d get it clean,” she said. “Scrubbing’s hard work.”

  “You’ll see. What’ll I scrub it with—a broom?”

  “You ought to have a scrub-brush, but I haven’t any. You’ll have to do it with an old broom and a cloth. I can let you have the broom and I guess we can get a cloth of Mrs. Hunt. You going to do it now?” she added, as Tode began to pull off his coat.

  “Right now,” he answered. “You see, Nan, I’ve got loads of things to do, an’ I can’t be wastin’ time.”

  “What things?” questioned Nan, curiously.

  “Oh—I’ll tell you about them after awhile,” replied the boy. “The broom in your room?”

  “Yes, I’ll bring it to you,” and Nan hurried off.

  She came back with an old pail full of hot water, a piece of soap, a broom and a cloth, and then she proceeded to show Tode how to clean the woodwork and floor, thoroughly, with special attention to the dark corners which looked, indeed, as if they had never been visited by a broom. Nan was a thorough little housewife, and she longed to do the whole work herself, but Tode would not allow that, so she could only stand and look on, wondering inwardly how a boy could handle a broom so awkwardly. But if he was slow and awkward about it, Tode was in earnest, and he looked with much satisfaction at the result of his labor when it was completed.

  “You’ll have to wash the floor again after you’ve whitewashed the walls,” Nan said, “but it needed two scrubbings, anyhow.”

  Tode looked at it ruefully. “Oh, did it?” he said. “I think one such scrubbing as that ought to last it a year.”

  Nan laughed. “If you’ll carry out my bread and things tomorrow, I’ll do your whitewashing for you,” she said.

  But Tode shook his head. “I’ll carry out your stuff all right,” he answered, “but I ain’t a-goin’ to have a girl doin’ my work for me.”

  He bought the lime and paid also for the use of a pail and brush, and the next day he put a white coat on his walls, and when this was done, he was much better satisfied with his quarters. Nan offered to lend him her shawl in place of a blanket, but he guessed that she needed it herself and refused her offer.

  VII. After Tode’s Departure

  In the bishop’s household, Mrs. Martin was always one of the earliest to rise in the morning, and just as Tode sat down to breakfast with Nan and Little Brother, the housekeeper was going downstairs. Tode’s door stood open and she saw that he was not in the room. Her quick eyes noted also the pile of neatly folded garments on a chair beside the bed. She stepped into the room and looked around. Then she hurried to the study, knowing that the boy loved to stay there, but the study was unoccupied.

  By the time breakfast was ready she knew that the boy had left the house, but the bishop refused to believe it, nor would he be convinced until the house had been searched from attic to cellar. When Mr. Gibson made his appearance, a gleam of satisfaction shone in his narrow eyes as he learned of Tode’s disappearance.

  “I was afraid something like this would happen,” he remarked, gravely. “It’s a hopeless kind of business, trying to make anything out of such material. I’ve had my suspicions of that boy for some time.”

  “Don’t be too quick to condemn him, Mr. Gibson,” exclaimed the bishop, hastily. “He may have had some good reason for going away so. I’ve no doubt he thought he had, but I had grown to love the lad and I shall miss him sadly.”

  “Did you never suspect that he was not deaf and dumb, as he pretended to be?” the secretary asked.

  The bishop looked up quickly. “Why, no, indeed, I never had such an idea,” he answered. An unpleasant smile flickered over the secretary’s thin lips as he went on, “I heard the boy talking to himself, here in this room, last evening. He can hear and speak as well as you or I.”

  “Oh, I am sorry! I am sorry!” said the bishop, sadly, and then he turned to his desk, and sitting down, hid his face in his hands, and was silent. The secretary cast more than one swift, sidewise glance at him, but dared say no more then.

  After a while the bishop drew his Bible toward him. It opened at the fourteenth chapter of John, and there lay Tode’s poor little soiled and blotted note. The bishop read it with tear-dimmed eyes, read it again and again, and finally slipped it into an envelope, and replaced it between the leaves of his Bible. He said nothing about it to his secretary, and presently he went to his own room, where for a long time he walked back and forth, thinking about the boy, and how he might find him again.

  Then Brown came to him with a telegram summoning him to the sickbed of his only sister, and within an hour he left the city, and was absent two weeks.

  Meantime Tode, the morning after his scrubbing and whitewashing operations, had carefully folded the clothes he had worn when he left the bishop’s house and tied them up in an old newspaper. Into one of the pockets of the jacket he had put a note which ran thus:

  DEAR MRS. MARTIN:

  Pleas giv thes cloes to the bishop and tell him i wud not have took them away if i had had any others. I did not take shoes or stockins. I keep the littel testament and i read in it evry day. Tell him i am trying to be good and when i get good enuf I shall go and see him. You was good to me but he was so good that he made me hate myself and evrything bad. I can never be bad again while i remember him.

  TODE BRYAN.

  He hired a boy whom he knew, to carry the bundle to the bishop’s house, and from behind a tree-box further down the street, he watched and saw it taken in by Brown. The boy’s heart was beating hard and fast, as he stood there longing, yet dreading, to see the bishop himself come out of the house. But the bishop was far away, and Tode walked sadly homeward, casting many a wistful, lingering glance backward, as he went.

  Brown carried the package gingerly to Mrs. Martin, for the boy who had delivered it was not over clean, and Mrs. Martin opened it with some suspicion, but when she saw the clothes she recognised them instantly, and finding the note in the pocket read it with wet eyes.

  “I knew that wasn’t a bad boy,” she said to herself, “and this proves it. He’s as honest as the day, or he wouldn’t have sent back these clothes—the poor little fellow. Well, well! I hope the bishop can find him when he gets back, and as to the boy’s pretending to be deaf and dumb, I’m sure there was something underneath that if we only knew it. Anyhow, I do hope I’ll see the little fellow again sometime.”

  When the bishop returned the accumulated work of his weeks of absence so pressed upon him that for a while he had no time for anything else, and when at last he was free to search for Tode, he could find no trace of him.

  As for Tode, he had never once thought of the possibility of the bishop’s searching for him. He looked forward to seeing his friend again sometime, but that time he put far away when he himself should be “more fit,” as he said to himself.

  One evening soon after his return, Nan had a long talk with him, a talk that left her wondering greatly at the change in his thoughts and purposes, and which made her regard him with quite a new feeling of respect.

  “Nan,” he began, “I told you I’d got loads of things to do now.”

  “Yes?” The girl looked at him inquiringly.

  Tode was silent for a little. It was harder for him to speak than he had thought it would be.

  “You see,” he went on, slowly, “I’ve been mean as dirt all my life. You don’t know what mean things I’ve done, an’ I ain’t goin’ to tell ye, only that I know now I’ve got to turn straight around an’ not do ‘em any more. I’ve got to make a man of myself,” he drew himself up as he spoke, “a real man—the kind that helps other folks up. I can’t say just what I mean, but I feel it myself,” he added, with a half-appealing glance at Nan.

  She had listened attentively with her eyes fastened on his earnest face. Now she said softly, “You mean—you want to be the kind of man the bishop is, don’t you?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t ever be really like him,” protested the boy, quickly, “but, well, I’m goin’ to try to be a sort of shadow of him. I mean I’m goin’ to try to amount to something myself, an’ do what I can to help other poor fellers up instead of down. I’m goin’ to lend a hand ‘mongst the folks ‘round here, just a little you know, as he does ‘mongst the poor people he goes to see. But I’ve got some other things to do too. I’ve got some money to pay back, an’ I’ve got to find a feller that I helped to pull down.”

  And thereupon, Tode told the story of Mrs. Russell’s pocketbook and her search for Jack Finney. He told it all quite frankly, not trying in the least to excuse or lessen his own guilt in the matter.

  “It will take you a long time to save up so much money, Tode,” Nan said when he paused.

  “Yes, unless I can find some way to earn more, but I can’t help that. I’ll do the best I can, an’ I’ve got some notions in my head.”

  He talked over with her some of his plans and projects, and as she listened, she thought to herself, “He’s getting ‘way ahead of me, but I’m afraid he’ll get into trouble at first.”

  And she was not mistaken. Tode was now so thoroughly in earnest himself that he forgot to take into consideration the fact that those whom he meant to help up might prefer to be left to go down in their own fashion. His old associates speedily discovered that a great change had come over Tode Bryan, and the change did not meet with their approval. They called it “mighty cheeky” of him to be “pokin’ his nose” into their affairs, and they would show him that he’d better stop it. So Tode soon found himself exceedingly unpopular, and, what was worse, in a way, under a boycott that threatened to ruin his business.

  He fell into the way of carrying his trials and perplexities to Nan, and talking them over with her. She had plenty of that common sense, which is not very common after all, and she often made him see the reason of his failures, while at the same time he was sure of her sympathy.

  One evening Tode appeared in her room with his little Testament in his hand. There was a perplexed expression in his eyes as he said, “Nan, ‘bout readin’ this, you know—I’ve been peggin’ away at the first part, an’ I can’t make nothin’ of it. It’s just a string of funny words, names, I s’pose. I don’t see no sense to it.”

  Nan glanced at the page to which he had opened. It was the first chapter of Matthew.

  “Oh, that’s all it is, just a lot of names. You can skip all that, Tode,” she answered, easily.

  “No I can’t, neither,” replied the boy, decidedly. “If I begin to skip, no knowin’ where I’ll stop. If it’s readin’ this book that makes folks good, I’ve got to know all ‘bout it. Say, can’t you read this with me an’ tell me how to call all these jawbreakers?”

  Nan looked rather shocked at the boy’s free and easy reference to the Book, but seeing from his grave face and serious manner that he was very much in earnest, she sat down with him, and the two young heads bent over the page together.

  “I remember reading this chapter with mother,” Nan said, gently, “and she told me how to pronounce these names, but I can’t remember all of them now. I’ll do the best I can, though,” and she read slowly the first seventeen verses, Tode repeating each name after her.

  “Whew!” he exclaimed, in a tone of intense relief, when the task was ended, “that’s ‘bout the toughest job ever I tackled.”

  “Well, you see, you needn’t read all that again. The rest of the chapter is different. It’s all about Jesus,” Nan said.

  Tode read the remaining verses slowly by himself, but he shook his head in a dissatisfied way as he closed the book. “That’s easier than the names to read, but I don’t seem to get much out of it. Guess I’m too thick-headed,” he said, in a discouraged tone.