FullReads

Tommy hurried home as quickly as he could and got a ball of twine out of his few treasures. Then he went back to Miss Octavia’s garden.

The next forenoon Miss Octavia got off the train at the Arundel station with a very grim face. There had been an unusually severe frost for the time of year. All along the road Miss Octavia had seen gardens frosted and spoiled. She knew what she should see when she got to her own–the dahlia stalks drooping and black and limp, the nasturtiums and balsams and poppies and pansies all withered and ruined.

But she didn’t. Instead she saw every dahlia carefully tied up in a newspaper, and over all the beds newspapers spread out and held neatly in place with pebbles. Miss Octavia flew into her garden with a radiant face. Everything was safe–nothing was spoiled.

But who could have done it? Miss Octavia was puzzled. On one side of her lived Mrs. Kennedy, who had just moved in and, being a total stranger, would not be likely to think of Miss Octavia’s flowers. On the other lived Miss Matheson, who was a “shut-in” and spent all her time on the sofa. But to Miss Matheson Miss Octavia went.

“Rachel, do you know who covered my plants up last night?”

Miss Matheson nodded. “Yes, it was Tommy Puffer. I saw him working away there with papers and twine. I thought you’d told him to do it.”

“For the land’s sake!” ejaculated Miss Octavia. “Tommy Puffer! Well, wonders will never cease.”

Miss Octavia went back to her house feeling rather ashamed of herself when she remembered how she had always treated Tommy Puffer.

“But there must be some good in the child, or he wouldn’t have done this,” she said to herself. “I’ve been real mean, but I’ll make it up to him.”

Miss Octavia did not see Tommy that day, but when he passed the next morning she ran to the door and called him.

“Tommy, Tommy Puffer, come in here!”

Tommy came reluctantly. He didn’t like Miss Octavia any better than he had, and he didn’t know what she wanted of him. But Miss Octavia soon informed him without loss of words.

“Tommy, Miss Matheson tells me that it was you who saved my flowers from the frost the other night. I’m very much obliged to you indeed. Whatever made you think of doing it?”

“I hated to see the flowers spoiled,” muttered Tommy, who was feeling more uncomfortable than he had ever felt in his life.

“Well, it was real thoughtful of you. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you, Tommy, and I believe now you didn’t break my scarlet geranium. Is there anything I can do for you–anything you’d like to have? If it’s in reason I’ll get it for you, just to pay my debt.”

Tommy stared at Miss Octavia with a sudden hopeful inspiration. “Oh, Miss Octavia,” he cried eagerly, “will you buy a doll and give it to me?”

“Well, for the land’s sake!” ejaculated Miss Octavia, unable to believe her ears. “A doll! What on earth do you want of a doll?”

“It’s for Bessie,” said Tommy eagerly. “You see, it’s this way.”

Then Tommy told Miss Octavia the whole story. Miss Octavia listened silently, sometimes nodding her head. When he had finished she went out of the room and soon returned, bringing with her the very identical doll that had been in Mr. Blacklock’s window.

“I guess this is the doll,” she said. “I bought it to give to a small niece of mine, but I can get another for her. You may take this to Bessie.”

It would be of no use to try to describe Bessie’s joy when Tommy rushed in and put Roselle Geraldine in her arms with a breathless account of the wonderful story. But from that moment Bessie began to pick up again, and soon she was better than she had ever been and the happiest little lassie in Arundel.

When a week had passed, Miss Octavia again called Tommy in; Tommy went more willingly this time. He had begun to like Miss Octavia.

That lady looked him over sharply and somewhat dubiously. He was certainly very ragged and unkempt. But Miss Octavia saw what she had never noticed before–that Tommy’s eyes were bright and frank, that Tommy’s chin was a good chin, and that Tommy’s smile had something very pleasant about it.

“You’re fond of flowers, aren’t you, Tommy?” she asked.

“You bet,” was Tommy’s inelegant but heartfelt answer.

“Well,” said Miss Octavia slowly, “I have a brother down at Chelton who is a florist. He wants a boy of your age to do handy jobs and run errands about his establishment, and he wants one who is fond of flowers and would like to learn the business. He asked me to recommend him one, and I promised to look out for a suitable boy. Would you like the place, Tommy? And will you promise to be a very good boy and learn to be respectable if I ask my brother to give you a trial and a chance to make something of yourself?”

“Oh, Miss Octavia!” gasped Tommy. He wondered if he were simply having a beautiful dream.

But it was no dream. And it was all arranged later on. No one rejoiced more heartily in Tommy’s success than Bessie.

“But I’ll miss you dreadfully, Tommy,” she said wistfully.

“Oh, I’ll be home every Saturday night, and we’ll have Sunday together, except when I’ve got to go to Sunday school. ‘Cause Miss Octavia says I must,” said Tommy comfortingly. “And the rest of the time you’ll have Roselle Geraldine.”

“Yes, I know,” said Bessie, giving the blue-silk doll a fond kiss, “and she’s just lovely. But she ain’t as nice as you, Tommy, for all.”

Then was Tommy’s cup of happiness full.