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Six Little Bunkers at Mammy June's, a novel by Laura Lee Hope |
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Chapter 3. Uncle Sam's Nephew |
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_ CHAPTER III. UNCLE SAM'S NEPHEW The fluffy, sticky snowflakes gathered very fast upon the colored boy's clothing. As Mun Bun had first announced, he looked like a snowman, only his face was grayish-black. He was slim, and when he finally stood up at the bottom of the house steps, he seemed to waver just like a slim reed in the fierce wind that drove the snowflakes against him. He hesitated, too. It seemed that he scarcely knew whether it was best to mount the steps to Aunt Jo's front door or not. "Come up here!" cried Mun Bun again, and continued to beckon to him through the glass of the outer door. Margy held up her coat and cap, and beckoned to the boy also. He looked much puzzled as he slowly climbed the steps. His lips moved and the children knew he asked: "What yo' want of me, child'en?" Mun Bun tugged at the outer door eagerly, and finally it flew open. He shouted in the face of the driving snow: "Come in here, snowman. Come in here!" "I ain't no snowman," drawled the colored boy. "But I sure is as cold as a snowman could possibly be." "It's warmer inside here than it is out there," Margy said. "Although we're not any too warm. Our steampipes don't hum. But you come in." "Yes," said Mun Bun, grabbing at the colored boy's cold, wet hand. "You come in here. We have some coats and things you can put on so you won't be cold." "Ma goodness!" murmured the boy, staring at the garments the children held out to him. "You can wear 'em," said Margy. "We have more." "You put on my coat," urged Mun Bun. "It's a boy's coat. You won't want Margy's, for she's a girl." "Ma goodness!" ejaculated the colored boy again, "what yo' child'en s'pose I do wid dem t'ings? 'Less I puts 'em up de spout?" The two children hadn't the first idea as to what he meant by putting the clothing up the spout. But the colored boy meant that he might pawn them and get some money. He did not offer to take the coats and other things that Margy and Mun Bun tried to put into his hands. Just at this moment Mother Bunker and Aunt Jo, followed by Russ and Rose, appeared on the stairs. They had missed the two little folks and, as Aunt Jo had said, wrinkling her very pretty nose, that she could "just smell mischief," they had all come downstairs to see what the matter was. The colored boy spied them. He had evidently been ill used by somebody, for he was very much frightened. He thrust the coats back at the children and turned to get out of the vestibule. But the door had been sucked to by the wind and it was hard to open again. It was really quite wonderful that Mun Bun had been able to get it open when he and Margy had called the strange colored boy in. "Don't go!" cried Margy. "Take my coat, please," urged Mun Bun. "I know it will keep you warm." And all the time the colored boy was tugging at the handle of the outer door and fairly panting, he was so anxious to get out. Mother Bunker was the first to reach the door into the vestibule, and she opened it instantly. "Wait!" she commanded the strange boy. "What do you want? What are you doing here?" But by this time the young fellow had jerked open the outer door, and now he darted out and almost dived down the snowy steps. "Oh, Mother!" cried Mun Bun, "he's forgot his coat and cap and scarf. I wanted him to wear mine because he was so cold and snowed on." "And he could have had mine, too," declared Margy quite as earnestly. "What do these tots mean?" gasped Aunt Jo, holding up both hands. But Mother Bunker, who understood her little Bunkers very well indeed, in a flash knew all about it. She cried: "The poor boy! Bring him back! He did look cold and wet." "Oh, he's just a tramp," objected Aunt Jo. "He's poor, Josephine, and unfortunate," answered Mother Bunker, as though that settled all question as to what they should do about the colored boy. Russ Bunker had already got his cap and mackinaw. He darted out of the house, down the steps, and followed the shuffling figure of the colored boy, now all but hidden by the fast-driving snow. How it did snow, to be sure! "Say! Wait a minute!" Russ called, and caught the strange youth by the elbow. "What yo' want, little boy?" demanded the other. "I ain't done nothin' to them child'en. No, I ain't. Dey called me up to dat do' or I wouldn't have been there." "I know that," said Russ, urgently detaining him. "But come back. My mother wants to speak to you, and I guess my Aunt Jo'll treat you nice, too. You're cold and hungry, aren't you?" "Sure is," groaned the boy. "Then they will give you something to eat and let you get warm. You'd better come," added Russ very sensibly, "for it looks as if it would be a big storm." "Sure do," agreed the colored boy again. "Ah don' like dis snow. Don't have nothin' like dis down whar I come f'om. No, suh." "Now, come on," said Russ eagerly. "My mother's waiting for us." The negro lad hesitated no longer. Even Russ saw how weary and weak he was as he stumbled on beside him. His shoes were broken, his trousers were very ragged, and his coat that he had buttoned up closely was threadbare. His cap was just the wreck of a cap! "Yo' sure she ain't goin' to send for no policeman, little boy?" queried the stranger. "I wasn't goin' to take them clo'es. No, suh!" "She understands," said Russ confidently, and holding to the boy's ragged sleeve led him up the steps of Aunt Jo's pretty house. Russ saw Mr. North, the nice old gentleman who lived over the way, staring out of his window at this surprising fact: Aunt Jo allowing a beggar to enter at her front door! Still, Mr. North, as well as the rest of the neighbors, had decided before this that almost anything astonishing could happen while the six little Bunkers were visiting their Aunt Jo in Boston's Back Bay district. "Here he is, Mother," said Russ, entering the hall with the colored boy. The other children had come downstairs now and all understood just what Margy and Mun Bun had tried to do for the stranger. Mother Bunker smiled kindly upon the wretched lad, even if Aunt Jo did look on a little doubtfully from the background. "We understand all about it, boy," Mother Bunker said. "The little folks only wanted to help you; and so do we. Do you live in Boston?" "Me, Ma'am? No, Ma'am! I lives a long way souf of dis place. Dat I do!" "And have you no friends here?" "Friends? Whar'd I get friends?" he demanded, complainingly. "Dey ain't no friends for boys like me up Norf yere." "Oh! What a story!" exclaimed Aunt Jo. "I know people must be just as kind in Boston as they are in the South." "Mebbe dey is, lady," said the colored boy, looking somewhat frightened because of Aunt Jo's vigorous speech. "Mebbe dey is; but dey hides it better yere. If yo' beg a mess of vittles in dis town dey puts yo' in jail. Down Souf dey axes you is you hongry? Ya-as'm!" At that Aunt Jo began to bustle about to the great delight of the children. She called down to Parker, the cook, and asked her to put out a nice meal on the end of the kitchen table and to make coffee. And then she said she would go up to the attic where, in a press in which she kept garments belonging to a church society, there were some warm clothes that might fit the colored boy. Rose and Vi went with Aunt Jo to help, or to look on; but Margy and the three boys stayed with their mother to hear more that the visitor might say. "My name's Sam," he replied to Mother Bunker's question. "Dat is, it's the name I goes by, for my hones'-to-goodness name is right silly. But I had an Uncle Sam, and I considers I has got a right to be named after him. So I is." "Does your Uncle Sam wear a tall hat and red-and-white striped pants with straps under the bootsoles and stars on his vest?" asked Laddie, with great interest and eagerness. "I dunno, little fellow," said Sam. "I ain't never seen my Uncle Sam, but I heard my mammy talk about him." Russ and his mother were much amused at Laddie's question. Russ said: "That Uncle Sam you are talking about, Laddie, is a white man. He couldn't be this Sam's uncle." "Why not?" demanded Laddie, with quite as much curiosity as his twin sister might have shown. "Very true, why not?" repeated Mrs. Bunker, with some gravity. "You are wrong, Russ. Our Uncle Sam is just as much this Sam's uncle as he is ours. Now go down to the kitchen, Sam. I hear Parker calling for you. Eat your fill. And wait down there, for we shall want to see you again." _ |
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