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Page 35
To be sure, you may argue that it was all chance, conscience, or even
indigestion; because the trustees dined late they must have dined
heavily. But if you do, you know very well that Fancy will answer:
"Poof! Nothing of the kind. It was a simple matter of primrose magic
and--faeries; nothing else." And she ought to know, for she was there.
The President began it.
He sat in his den, yawning over the annual report of the United
Charities; he had already yawned a score of times, and the type had
commenced running together in a zigzagging line that baffled
deciphering. The President inserted a finger in the report to mark his
place, making a mental note to consult his oculist the following day;
after which he leaned back and closed his eyes for the space of a
moment--to clear his vision.
When he opened his eyes again his vision had cleared to such an extent
that he was quite positive he was seeing things that were not in the
room. Little shadowy figures haunted the dark places: corners, and
curtained recesses, and the unlighted hall beyond. They peered at him
shyly, with such witching, happy faces and eyes that laughed coaxingly.
The President found himself peering back at them and scrutinizing the
faces closely. Oddly enough he could recognize many, not by name, of
course, but he could place them in the many institutions over which he
presided. It was very evident that they were expecting something of
him; they were looking at him that way. For once in his life he was at
loss for the correct thing to say. He tried closing his eyes two or
three times to see if he could not blink them into vanishing; but when
he looked again there they were, more eager-eyed than before.
"Well," he found himself saying at last--"well, what is it?"
That was all; but it brought the children like a Hamlin troop to the
piper's cry--flocking about him unafraid. Never in all his charitable
life had he ever had children gather about him and look up at him this
way. Little groping hands pulled at his cuffs or steadied themselves
on his knee; more venturesome ones slipped into his or hunted their way
into his coat pockets. They were such warm, friendly, trusting little
hands--and the faces; the President of Saint Margaret's Free Hospital
for Children caught himself wondering why in all his charitable
experience he had never had a child overstep a respectful distance
before, or look at him save with a strange, alien expression.
He sat very still for fear of frightening them off; he liked the warmth
and friendliness of their little bodies pressed close to him; there was
something pleasantly hypnotic in the feeling of small hands tugging at
him. Suddenly he became conscious of a change in the children's faces;
the gladness was fading out and in its place was creeping a perplexed,
questioning sorrow.
"Don't." And the President patted assuringly as many little backs as
he could reach. "What--what was it you expected?"
He was answered by a quivering of lips and more insistent tugs at his
pockets. It flashed upon him--out of some dim memory--that children
liked surprises discovered unexpectedly in some one's pockets. Was
this why they had searched him out? He found himself frantically
wishing that he had something stowed away somewhere for them. His
hands followed theirs into all the numerous pockets he possessed;
trousers, coat, and vest were searched twice over; they were even
turned inside out in the last hope of disclosing just one surprise.
"I should think," said the President, addressing himself, "that a man
might keep something pleasant in empty pockets. What are pockets for,
anyway?"
The children shook their heads sorrowfully.
"Wouldn't to-morrow do?" he suggested, hopefully; but there was no
response from the children, and the weight that had been settling down
upon him, in the region of his chest, noticeably increased. He tried
to shake it off, it was so depressing--like the accruing misfortune of
some pending event.
"Don't shake," said a voice behind him; "that isn't your misfortune.
You will only shake it off on the children, and it's time enough for
them to bear it when they wake up in the morning and find out--"
"Find out what?" The President asked it fearfully.
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