Beasley's Christmas party . the world!And, please, wont you take Mrs. Hunchbergout to supper ? Then into the vision of our paralyzed anddumfounded watchers came the little wagon,pulled by the old colored woman, Bobs wife,in her best, and there, propped upon pillows,lay Hamilton Swift, Junior, his soul shiningrapture out of his great eyes, a bright spot ofcolor on each of his thin cheeks. 96 He lifted himself on one elbow, and for aninstant something seemed to be wrong with thebrace under his chin. Beasley sprang to him and adjusted it ten-derly. Then he bowed elaborately toward themantel-piece
Beasley's Christmas party . the world!And, please, wont you take Mrs. Hunchbergout to supper ? Then into the vision of our paralyzed anddumfounded watchers came the little wagon,pulled by the old colored woman, Bobs wife,in her best, and there, propped upon pillows,lay Hamilton Swift, Junior, his soul shiningrapture out of his great eyes, a bright spot ofcolor on each of his thin cheeks. 96 He lifted himself on one elbow, and for aninstant something seemed to be wrong with thebrace under his chin. Beasley sprang to him and adjusted it ten-derly. Then he bowed elaborately toward themantel-piece. Mrs. Hunchberg, he said, may I havethe honor ? And offered his arm. And I must have Mister Hunchberg,chirped Hamilton. He must walk with me. He tells me said Beasley, hell be mightyglad to. And theres a plate of bones for Sim-pledoria. You lead theway, cried thechild; you andMrs. Hunchberg. Are we all inline? Beasleyglanced back overhis ! Now,let us on. Ho !there! 8r-r-r<3-vo! applauded Mister Swift. 97. And Beasley, his head thrown back and hischest out, proudly led the way, stepping noblyand in time to the exhilarating measures. Ham-ilton Swift, Junior, towed by the beaming oldmammy, followed in his wagon, his thin littlearm uplifted and his fingers curled as if theyheld a trusted hand. When they reached the door, old Bobrose, turned in after them, and, still fiddling,played the procession and himself down thehall. And so they marched away, and we were leftstaring into the empty room. . My soul! said the Journal reporter, gasp-ing. And he did all that—just to please alittle sick kid! I cant figure it out, murmured Sim Peck,piteously. I can, said the Journal reporter. Thisstory will be all over town to-morrow. Heglanced at me, and I nodded. It 11 be all overtown, he continued, though not in any of thepapers—and I dont believe its going to hurtDave Beasleys chances any. 98 Mr. Peck and his companions turned towardthe street; they went silently. The youn
Size: 1334px × 1872px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidbeas, bookpublishernewyork
