Chapter 20

THE ORDER OF THE BIG FRONT DOOR.

On the afternoon of the meeting at Miss Brown's, when the silver keys were distributed, Jim had walked home with Aunt Zelie and said as they reached the gate, "Thank you very much for the pin, Mrs. Howard; I mean to remember the motto and be a helper if I can."

"I am sure you do, and you are more than welcome," she replied, thinking, as she looked into the bright, handsome face, "He wants to please me now, but perhaps it will grow into a higher motive."

Jim was quite in earnest when he said this. Three months in the Good Neighbors Club had somewhat changed his point of view. He might still be inconsiderate and thoughtless, but he no longer defended himself by saying that every fellow must look out for himself.

The friendship of little John Armstrong was doing much for him. A strong liking had sprung up between the two, rather to the surprise of everybody. From the first John showed a decided preference for Jim, who was so big and strong and capable, everything he himself was not; and in the same way the helpless weakness of the invalid made its appeal to the boy who in all his life had never been ill.

Certainly Miss Brown was right when she said that the silver keys could open a door of pleasure to the lame boy.

The children could not guess the happiness their companionship gave him. He listened with eager interest to all they told him of their life at home and at school, and when they were gone he lived it over again in imagination. He cherished a secret desire to belong to the Order, but would not have mentioned it for the world, for how could he help? He wrote the motto in his note-book, and then for weeks spent all his spare time copying it on parchment in letters taken from an old English missal, one of his father's treasures, drawing and coloring them with greatest care. When it was done it was really beautiful, and Jim, who was in the secret, had it nicely framed and presented it, as we know, at the next meeting of the Order.

But John wanted to be a real helper. He thought about it a great deal, but everything was done for him; there seemed to be no chance.

One day he noticed a lot of magazines which his father had been looking over, and left lying on the floor when he was suddenly called away. They belonged on the lower shelves of the bookcase, and it occurred to him that he might replace them. He rolled his chair over to that side of the room, and with a good deal of effort put them back in order on the shelves. Then when Dr. Armstrong thanked his wife that evening for putting them away, and she answered that she had not even seen them, John had the great delight of surprising them. It sent him to bed with a happy heart. However, next day he began to doubt whether so small a thing would count, and when Jim dropped in in the afternoon he asked his opinion. "Of course, you see, I can't do much of anything, but I'd like to help a little," he said.

"Count?" said Jim, the despiser of trifles; "of course it does; everything counts."

He told the boys and Aunt Zelie about it at the next meeting of the G.N. Club. "I can't help feeling sorry for the little fellow; I never thought before how hard it would be not to be able to do things like other people, but just sit still and be waited on; so I told him I thought it would count. Don't you think so?" Jim looked at Aunt Zelie appealingly, half afraid the boys would laugh at his soft-heartedness.

"I certainly do," she answered, and Will said, "There are a great many things he could do, I am sure. Did he ever show you his scrap-books? They are beautifully done. He could make some smaller ones for the hospital."

"Why couldn't we make him a member of the Order? He would be so pleased," said Jim.

"He couldn't come, could he?" asked Ikey, not meaning to object.

"Why couldn't he?" said Carl; "some of us could carry him over as easily as not."

"I say let's talk it over with the girls and have him here next Friday," said Will.

The girls entered into it willingly. "Of course he ought to belong, for he made us that beautiful motto," said Elsie.

"And we must get up something interesting for him," said Louise, who with Jim was on the entertainment committee.

Aunt Zelie consulted Mrs. Armstrong and found she was not willing to let John go out at night, so the time of the meeting was changed to Friday afternoon. Nothing was said to John himself till that morning, when Carl stopped in on his way to school to invite him.

"Could I go? Do you think I could go, Mother?" he asked eagerly, and from then until lunch time he lived in delightful anticipation.

After that the minutes dragged till three, when the boys came for him, and the journey from the parsonage to the star chamber was easily accomplished. This apartment presented a festive appearance, decorated with flags and bunting which had done service in one of Aunt Marcia's numerous charitable entertainments.

"You see, John," Louise explained as soon as his chair had been placed in a corner from which he could see everything, "Aunt Zelie said we ought to have colors for our Order, and I thought, and so did Bess and Dora, that red, white, and blue would be nicest, because they are the colors of our country. Carl says it is silly, for we are not doing anything for our country, but I'm sure we would if we could."

As Louise chattered away John looked around him. His motto hung in the place of honor over the mantel. In front of this was a low platform which dated back to Uncle William's time, and had often done duty for tableaux and such things; on it were two chairs and a table for the President and Secretary. Chairs for the audience were arranged in rows facing this. It was a most exciting moment to John when Will took the chair and called the meeting to order in a business-like way. Bess read the minutes of the last meeting, and Ikey gave the Treasurer's report. Then came reports from the two clubs, given respectively by Elsie and Aleck. The M.Ks. were still at work on the afghan for old Aunt Sallie, which was nearly done, and Miss Brown was reading aloud to them "A New England Girlhood."

The G.Ns. had finished one of their screens and were at work on another while they listened to "The Life of Washington."

"Next in order is the election of new members," said Will, and John started and flushed and then felt ashamed that he could be so silly as to think he was meant.

Jim rose and said, "Mr. President, I nominate John Armstrong."

This was seconded by Ikey, and the President continued: "John Armstrong is nominated; all in favor will please say 'aye.'"

The "ayes" were overwhelming, and accompanied by such a clapping of hands that the President forgot to ask for the "noes."

When it was quiet again John found voice to say timidly, "I'm afraid I won't amount to much, but I am very much obliged and I'll try."

When Louise pinned a little silver key with a tiny bow of red, white, and blue ribbon on his coat no Knight of the Garter was ever prouder of his decoration.

The President announced that he had been told of a little girl who had to lie on her back for a year on account of some spinal trouble, and who had almost nothing to amuse her, so if anyone had scrap-books or toys and would send them to her it would be helping.

John's eyes grew bright; here was something for him to do.

After this the meeting adjourned, the table and chairs were removed from the platform, a white curtain drawn, the room darkened, and the audience, such as did not take part, were treated to shadow pictures.

John, who had never seen any before, laughed till he cried at "Lord Ullin's Daughter" and "The Ballad of the Oysterman." This last was performed with particularly fine effect by Carl and Louise, and everybody knows how funny it is when well done.

John was carried home again very tired, but with a radiant face, eager to show his silver key. As the spring days grew warm and pleasant his wheeled chair was often seen on the sidewalk, or in the Hazeltines' garden, where he liked to watch the games of tennis and croquet, drawing clever little caricatures of the players meanwhile. Somebody was always ready to wheel him about, and in the pleasure of young companionship he grew stronger, and his face lost much of its pathetic look.

About this time old Mr. Ford, whose eyes were growing dim, discovered that when the print of his paper was particularly fine a pair of strong young eyes were ready to lend their service. Sweet-tempered Ikey had always been willing enough to help when it occurred to him, but his thoughts were likely to be anywhere else than at home, so that the broadest hints were lost on him. Now, with the little key to remind him, he was oftener on the lookout for opportunities, and as the months passed his grandfather was heard to say: "Isaac is a fine boy, only a little mischievous," and Mrs. Ford added: "Yes, he is really growing like his father."

The letters that found their way across the sea were not homesick in these days, and Ikey's mother ceased to worry about him.

In ways like these the silver keys did their work. Their owners did not forthwith turn into models of helpfulness and unselfishness; such things need time to grow, and this is exactly what they began to do. Only little sprouts, hardly to be noticed at first, they gave promise of being sturdy plants some day.