All this time the newsboy had been making change for a coarse, rough-looking man who sat opposite, who was obliged to squirt a whole mouthful of tobacco juice out of his mouth, before he could say,--
"Give me a Erald," and then another mouthful to add,--"Don't cheat, now, you young rascal."
When the right change had been given, and the man was settled to his paper, the newsboy turned back to the boy whose eyes had expressed so much sympathy.
Bertie asked his papa if it would be too much trouble to change seats, and then he asked,--
"Do you sell many papers?"
"Sometimes."
"What do you do with the money?"
"I give it to mother. It doesn't half support us, though, and now she's going to die."
As the newsboy said this, a great sob seemed to choke him. Mr. Curtis, whose eyes were fixed full on his face, saw the little fellow resolutely suppress his emotion, and his sympathies were enlisted at once.
"Where does your mother live?" he inquired.
"Close by the depot in the city."
"Go and sell all the papers you can, and then come back here."
"Yes, sir," with a grateful glance at Bertie.
The cars, however, had run into the depot, and the passengers were beginning to alight, before they saw anything more of the newsboy.
Bertie was begging his father to wait a little longer, when some one touched his arm; and there was the boy struggling up from behind.
"I've sold 'em all," he began, eagerly.
"Show me where your mother lives," Mr. Curtis said, when they stepped to the platform.
"Yes, sir."
These were all the words spoken, but a beautiful ray of gratitude shot from the poor boy's eyes.
CHAPTER XIV.
BERTIE AND THE NEWSBOY.
A few steps brought them to an old block, where their young guide stopped.
"May I run in and tell mother you're coming. She's so very sick, sir."
"Yes, but be as quick as you can. I must catch the next train to E----"
Before they had time to miss him, the boy returned, his face very, very sad.
Bertie instinctively caught his hand, as they followed him to the humble chamber.
A woman lay there in the last stages of consumption. On a table near her was a cup, a tumbler, and a spoon, all empty.
"You are in distress," said Mr. Curtis, in a soothing tone; "tell me what you need."
"Nothing for myself. I shall soon be where want and sorrow shall never enter; but it is hard to leave my boy alone."
"Is he your only child?"
"The only one left of five. He will soon be an orphan."
Mr. Curtis stood a moment gazing about as if trying to judge from the surroundings something of the character of the inmates, when he caught a glimpse of Bertie.
The boy's eyes were fixed on his face with such an eager, wistful gaze, as if he wondered his father did not offer relief, that he resolved at once to befriend the orphan.
"You say," he began, "that you hope soon to be in heaven. Cannot you cast your care for your child on your heavenly Father?"
"I have tried to; but sometimes my faith is weak. He has been taught his duty to God. I"--
A fit of coughing interrupted her, after which, Mr. Curtis hastened to say:
"I will be a friend to your boy. I must leave you now; but here is a sum of money, you will need for immediate wants. I will try and call again before night. In the meantime, what is your name?"
"Martha Washburn."
They hurried away, reached the cars just in time, found exactly what they wished, smoke trees, tartarian honeysuckles, azalias, etc., etc., ordered them to be ready for Mr. Grant's team Monday noon, and then went back to the city.
Bertie enjoyed everything. The long rows of trees, the neat lines of bushes; but his heart was full of Jimmy Washburn. His little hand nestled itself into his father's, and every chance he had to speak, he repeated,--
"Oh, papa! I do love you. I do thank you so much. How glad that poor woman looked when you told her you would take care of her boy."
Mr. Curtis told his wife afterward that he kept thinking, as he saw Bertie's flushed, eager face, of the text, "of such is the kingdom of heaven," and prayed that God might keep his heart like that of his pure-minded boy.
Before he left the city, he made arrangements for Jamie's admission to a mission school, where he would be well educated, and then sent to a home in the great West. Then they hurried to Woodlawn to receive a warm welcome from mamma, Winnie, and a smile from little Violetta.
CHAPTER XV.
THE LAST CHAPTER.
My young reader, I hope ere this you have come to love our little Bertie, and are sorry that this is the last chapter of the last volume about him and his sister Winnie.
I love Bertie dearly, and should like to tell you much more about him; but in the short space that is left I can only relate a few words of his after life.