found him in a cellar, mourning for his dead father, and his lost violin. I think there is something in him. You will cure his body, Fritz will help his mind, and when he is ready I’ll see if he is a genius or only a boy with a talent which may earn his bread for him,
Teddy.”
“Of course we will!” cried Mrs. Bhaer, as she read the letter.
When she saw Nat she felt at once that here was a lonely, sick boy who needed just what she loved to give, a home and motherly care. Both she and Mr. Bhaer observed him quietly; and in spite of ragged clothes, awkward manners, and a dirty face, they saw much about Nat that pleased them. He was a thin, pale boy, of twelve, with blue eyes, and a good forehead under the rough, neglected hair; an anxious, scared face and a sensitive mouth that trembled when a kind glance fell on him.
“He will fiddle all day long if he likes,” said Mrs. Bhaer to herself, as she saw the eager, happy expression on his face when Tommy talked of the band.
So, after supper, Mrs. Jo appeared with a violin in her hand, and went to Nat, who sat in a corner.
“Now, my lad, we want a violin in our band, and I think you will do it nicely.”
He seized the old fiddle at once, and handled it with care. Music was his passion.
“I’ll do the best I can, ma’am,” was all he said; and then drew the bow across the strings.
There was a great clatter in the room. Nat played softly to himself, forgetting everything in his delight. It was only a simple melody, such as street-musicians play, but it caught the ears of the boys at once, and silenced them. They stood listening with surprise and pleasure. Gradually they got nearer and nearer, and Mr. Bhaer came up to watch the boy. Nat’s eyes shone, his cheeks reddened, and his thin fingers flew.
A hearty round of applause rewarded him, when he stopped.
“You do that very well,” cried Tommy, who considered Nat his protege.
“You will be the first fiddle in my band,” added Franz, with an approving smile.
Mrs. Bhaer whispered to her husband:
“Teddy is right: there’s something in the child.”
Mr. Bhaer nodded his head emphatically, as he clapped Nat on the shoulder, saying, heartily:
“You play well, my son. Come now and play something which we can sing.”
It was the proudest, happiest minute of the poor boy’s life when he was led to the place by the piano, and the lads gathered round. They chose a song he knew; and soon violin, flute, and piano led a chorus of boyish voices. It was too much for Nat. As the final shout died away, he dropped the fiddle, and turning to the wall sobbed like a little child.
“My dear, what is it?” asked Mrs. Bhaer, who was singing.
“You are all so kind and it’s so beautiful,” sobbed Nat, coughing till he was breathless.
“Come with me, dear; you must go to bed and rest. This is too noisy a place for you,” whispered Mrs. Bhaer; and took him away to her own parlor.
Then she asked him to tell her all his troubles, and listened to the little story with tears in her eyes.
“My child, you have got a father and a mother now, and this is home. Don’t think of those sad times any more, but get well and happy. This place is made for all sorts of boys to have a good time in, and to learn how to be useful men, I hope. You will have as much music as you want. Now have a bath, and then go to bed.”
Mrs. Bhaer led him up to a big room, where they found a stout German woman with a round and cheery face.
“This is Nursey Hummel, and she will give you a nice bath, and cut your hair. That’s the bathroom in there.”
By the time Nat was washed and done up in a blanket by the fire, while Nursey cut his hair, a new detachment of boys arrived.
Nursey gave Nat a flannel night-gown, and then tucked him into one of the three little beds standing in the room. Cleanliness in itself was a new and delightful sensation; flannel gowns were unknown comforts in his world; and the feeling that somebody cared for him made that room a sort of heaven to the homeless child.
A momentary lull was followed by the sudden appearance of pillows flying in all directions. The battle raged in several rooms, all down the upper hall, and even in the nursery. No one forbade it, or even looked surprised.
“Won’t they hurt them?” asked Nat.
“Oh dear, no! We always allow one pillow-fight Saturday night. I like it myself,” said Mrs. Bhaer.
“What a nice school this is!” observed Nat, in a burst of admiration.
“It’s an odd one,” laughed Mrs. Bhaer, “but you see we don’t want to make children miserable by too many rules, and too much study. I forbade night-gown parties at first; but it was of no use. So I made an agreement with them. I allow a fifteen-minute pillow-fight every Saturday night; and they promise to go properly to bed every other night. I tried it, and it worked well. If they don’t keep their word, no frolic. I let them rampage as much as they like.”
“It’s a beautiful plan,” said Nat.
Mrs. Bhaer looked at her watch, and called out:
“Time is up, boys. Into bed, or pay the forfeit!”
“What is the forfeit?” asked Nat.
“Lose their fun next time,” answered Mrs. Bhaer. “I give them five minutes to settle down, then put out the lights, and expect order. They are honorable lads, and they keep their word.”
Sunday
Nat flew out of bed, and dressed himself with great satisfaction in the suit of clothes he found on the chair. Suddenly Tommy appeared and escorted Nat down to breakfast.
The sun was shining into the dining-room on the well-spread table, and the flock of hungry, hearty lads who gathered round it. Everyone stood silently behind his chair while little Rob, standing beside his father at the head of the table, folded his hands, reverently bent his curly head, and softly repeated a prayer. Then they all sat down to enjoy the Sunday-morning breakfast. There was much pleasant talk while the knives and forks rattled briskly.
“Now, my lads, be ready for church when the bus comes round,” said Father Bhaer.
Everyone had some little daily duty, and was expected to perform it faithfully. Some brought wood and water, brushed the steps, or ran errands for Mrs. Bhaer. Others fed the pet animals, and did chores about the barn with Franz. Daisy washed the cups, and Demi wiped them, for the twins liked to work together. Even Baby Teddy trotted to and fro, putting napkins away, and pushing chairs into their places. For half and hour the lads buzzed about like a hive of bees. Then the bus drove round, Father Bhaer and Franz with the eight older boys piled in, and away they went for a three-mile drive to church in town.
Because of the troublesome cough Nat preferred to stay at home with the four small boys, and spent a happy morning in Mrs. Bhaer’s room, listening to the stories she read them, and learning the hymns she taught them.
“This is my Sunday study,” she said, showing him shelves filled with picture-books, paint-boxes, little diaries, and materials for letter-writing. “I want my boys to love Sunday, to find it a peaceful, pleasant day, when they can rest from common study and play, yet enjoy quiet pleasures, and learn lessons more important than any taught in school. Do you understand me?” she asked, watching Nat’s attentive face.
“You mean to be good?” he said, after hesitating a minute.
“Yes; to be good, and to love to be good. It is hard work sometimes, I know very well; but we all help one another.”
She took down a thick book and opened at a page on which there was one word at the top.
“Why, that’s my name!” cried Nat, looking both surprised and interested.
“Yes; I have a page for each boy. I keep a little