The Judge adjusted his glasses, stared, and exclaimed, “God bless my soul!”
Then he called a big, blue-coated officer over and said: “Mike, you go with this little girl and her brother, and tell that teacher, if possible, to allow the boy to go to school; that I say he is old enough. You understand! If you do not succeed, come back and tell me why.”
The officer smiled and saluted.
The big policeman took the little boy in his arms. The girl carried the sled, and I followed with the Family Bible.
The officer looked at me—“Newspaper man, I s’pose?”
“Yes,” I said.
“It’s the best ever.”
“I think so—possibly with a few exceptions.”
“She’s the queerest lot yet, is this kid,” and the big bluecoat jerked his thumb toward the girl.
I suggested that we go to the restaurant across the way and get a bite of something to eat.
“I’m not hungry,” said the officer, “but the youngsters look as if they hadn’t et since day before yesterday.”
We lined up at the counter.
The officer drank two cups of coffee and ate a ham sandwich, two hard-boiled eggs, a plate of cakes and a piece of pie.
The girl and her brother each had a plate of cakes, a piece of pie and a glass of milk.
“What’s yours?” asked the waiter.
“Same,” said I.
As I did not care for the cakes, the officer cleaned the plate for me.
I didn’t have time to go to the school, but the officer assured me that he would “fix it,” and he winked knowingly, as if he had looked after such things before. He was kind, but determined, and I had confidence he would see that the little boy was duly admitted.
I started up the street alone.
They went the other way. The officer carried the little boy.
The girl with the shawl over her head followed, pulling the hand-sled, and on the sled rested the big, black Family Bible. I lost sight of them as they turned the corner.
An act is only a crystallized thought.
John the Baptist, the strong, fine youth, came up out of the wilderness crying in the streets of Jerusalem, “Repent ye! Repent ye!”
Salome heard the call and from her window looked with half- closed, catlike eyes upon the semi-naked, young fanatic.
She smiled, did this idle creature of luxury, as she lay there amid the cushions on her couch, and gazed through the casement upon the preacher in the street.
Suddenly a thought came to her.
She arose on her elbow—she called her slaves.
They clothed her in a gaudy gown, dressed her hair, and led her forth.
Salome followed the wild, weird, religious enthusiast.