“Teddy is right: there’s something in the child.” And 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 of honor by the piano, and the lads gathered
round, never heeding his poor clothes, but eying him respectfully
and waiting eagerly to hear him play again.
They chose a song he knew; and after one or two false starts they
got going, and violin, flute, and piano led a chorus of boyish voices
that made the old roof ring again. It was too much for Nat, more
feeble than he knew; and as the final shout died away, his face
began to work, he dropped the fiddle, and turning to the wall
sobbed like a little child.
“My dear, what is it?” asked Mrs. Bhaer, who had been singing
with all her might, and trying to keep little Rob from beating time
with his boots.
“You are all so kind and it’s so beautiful I can’t help it,” sobbed
Nat, coughing till he was breathless.
“Come with me, dear; you must go to bed and rest; you are worn
out, and this is too noisy a place for you,” whispered Mrs. Bhaer;
and took him away to her own parlor, where she let him cry
himself quiet.
Then she won him to tell her all his troubles, and listened to the
little story with tears in her own eyes, though it was not a new one
to her.
“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; and be sure you shall never suffer again, if we can help it.
This place is made for all sorts of boys to have a good time in, and
to learn how to help themselves and be useful men, I hope. You
shall have as much music as you want, only you must get strong
first. Now come up to Nursey and have a bath, and then go to bed,
and to-morrow we will lay some nice little plans together.”
Nat held her hand fast in his, but had not a word to say, and let his
grateful eyes speak for him, as Mrs. Bhaer led him up to a big
room, where they found a stout German woman with a face so
round and cheery that it looked like a sort of sun, with the wide
frill of her cap for rays.
“This is Nursey Hummel, and she will give you a nice bath, and
cut your hair, and make you all ‘comfy,’ as Rob says. That’s the
bath-room in there; and on Saturday nights we scrub all the little
lads first, and pack them away in bed before the big ones get
through singing. Now then, Rob, in with you.”
As she talked, Mrs. Bhaer had whipped off Rob’s clothes and
popped him into a long bath-tub in the little room opening into the
nursery.
There were two tubs, besides foot-baths, basins, douche-pipes, and
all manner of contrivances for cleanliness. Nat was soon
luxuriating in the other bath; and while simmering there, he
watched the performances of the two women, who scrubbed, clean
night-gowned, and bundled into bed four or five small boys, who,
of course, cut up all sorts of capers during the operation, and kept
every one in a gale of merriment till they were extinguished in
their beds.
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 and
were shut into the bath-room, where they made as much splashing
and noise as a school of young whales at play.
“Nat had better sleep here, so that if his cough troubles him in the
night you can see that he takes a good draught of flax-seed tea,”
said Mrs. Bhaer, who was flying about like a distracted hen with a
large brood of lively ducklings.
Nursey approved the plan, finished Nat off with a flannel