"Her first name Miss Barbour s first name,"
he said, and the dryness of his throat made his
words a little indistinct. "What is it?"

With mouth rounded into a little ball, Car-
mencita blew on her stiff finger-tips. Frances,
she said, and first one foot and then the other
was stamped for purpose of warmth. "The
damanarkist says God made her, but the devil
has more to do with most women than anybody
else. He don t like women. Do you know
her, Mr. Van?"

"If your friend is my friend I know her very
well," he said, and put his hands in his pockets
to hide the twitching of his fingers. "A long
time ago she was the only real friend I had,
and I lost her. I have wanted very much to
find her."

"Oh, Father, if he knows Miss Barbour he s
bound to be all right!" Carmencita s arms
were flung above her head and down again, and
on her tiptoes she danced gaily round and
round. "We can show him where she lives."
She stopped. "No, we can t. She told me I
must never do that. I mustn t send any one
to her, but I could tell her of anybody I wanted

45



HOW IT HAPPENED

her to know about." Head uplifted, her eyes
searched Van Landing s, and her words came in
an awed whisper, "Was was she your sweet
heart, Mr. Van?"

"She was." Again Van Landing wiped his
forehead. It didn t in the least matter that
he was telling to this unknown child the most
personal of matters. Nothing mattered but
that perhaps he might find Frances. "You
must take me to her," he said. "I must see
her to-night."

"I can t take you to see her to-night. She
wouldn t like it. Oh, I know!" Carmencita
made another rapid whirl. "We can go down
town and get" she nodded confidentially to
her new-made friend and pointed her finger in
her father s direction "and then we can come
back and have some toast and tea; and then
I ll send for Miss Barbour to come quick, as I
need her awful, and when she comes in you can
say: Oh, my lost and loved one, here I am!
We will be married right away, this minute!
I read that in a book once. Won t it be grand ?
But you won t^-" The dancing ceased, and
her hands stiffened in sudden anxiety. "You
won t take her away, will you?"

"If she will come with me I will not take
46



HOW IT HAPPENED

her where she won t come back. Can t we
start?"

But the child was obdurate. She would do
nothing until her purchase was made, and to
her entreaties her father finally yielded, and a
few minutes later Van Landing and his new
acquaintances were on a down-town car, bound
for a shopping district as unknown to him as
the shops in which he was accustomed to deal
were unknown to them.

Still a bit dazed by his chance discovery,
he made no comment on the child s continual
chatter, but let her exuberance and delight
have full play while he tried to adjust himself
to a realization that made all thought but a
chaotic mixture of hope and doubt, of turbulent
fear and determined purpose, and of one thing
only was he sure. Three years of his life had
been wasted. Another hour should not be lost
were it in his power to prevent.



CHAPTER VI



w



m



HEN the store was reached Van Land
ing for the first time was able to see
distinctly the faces of Carmencita and
her father, and as for a moment he
watched the slim little body in its long
coat, once the property, undoubtedly,
of a much bigger person, saw her eager, wonder-
filled eyes, and the wistful mouth which had
learned to smile at surrender, the strings of
his heart twisted in protest, and for the "daman-
arkist" of whom she had spoken, for the mo
ment he had sympathy of which on yesterday
there would have been no understanding. She
could not be more than twelve or thirteen, he
thought, but condition and circumstance had
made her a woman in many matters, and the
art of shopping she knew well. Slowly, very
slowly, she made her way to the particular
counter at which her precious purchase was to
be made, lingering here and there to gaze at
things as much beyond her hope of possessioa

48



HOW IT HAPPENED

as the stars of heaven ; and, following her slow-
walking, Van Landing could see her eyes
brighten and yearn, her lips move, her hand
outstretch to touch and then draw back quickly,
and also every now and then he could see her
shake her head.

"What is it?" he asked. "Why do you do
that ? Is there anything in here you would like
to get, besides the thing you came for?"

"Anything I d like to get!" The words were
repeated as if not heard aright. "Anybody
would know you d never been a girl. There
isn t much in here I wouldn t like to get if I
didn t have to pay for it."

"But not rattles and dolls and drums and
pop-guns and boxing-gloves and all the other
things you ve looked at. Girls of your age

"This girl wasn t looking at them for her
self. I m most grown up now. But everybody
on our street has got a baby, and a lot of chil
dren besides. Mrs. Perry has twins and a
baby, and Mrs. Latimer always has two on a
bottle at the same time. I m just buying
things in my mind. It s the only way I can
buy em, and Christmas wouldn t be Christmas
if you couldn t buy some way. Sallie Simcoe
will go crazy if she don t get a doll that whistles.

49



HOW IT HAPPENED

She saw one in a window once. It was a Whist
ling Jim and cost a dollar. She won t get it.
Oh, here it is, Mr. Van! Here s the counter
where the jewelry things are."

As she neared it she nodded to Van Landing
and pointed to her father, who, hand on her
shoulder, had kept close to her, then beckoned
him to come nearer. "He can t see, I know"-
her voice was excited "but take him away,
won t you? I wouldn t have him guess it, not
for anything on earth! I ll be through in a
minute."

In moments incredibly few, but to Van Land
ing tormentingly long, she was back again, and
close to her heart she was hugging a tiny pack
age with one hand, while the other was laid on
her father s arm. "I got it," she whispered;
"it s perfectly beautiful." She spoke louder.
"I guess we d better be going now. I know
you re hungry, and so am I. Come en. We
can walk home, and then I ll make the tea."

For a second Van Landing hesitated, then
he followed the odd-looking couple out into the
street, but as they started to turn the corner
he stopped.

"I say" he cleared his throat to hide its
embarrassed hesitation "don t you want to

50



HOW IT HAPPENED

do me a favor? Where I live I don t buy the
things I eat, and I ve often thought I d like
to. If you are going to make the tea and toast,
why can t I get the the chicken, say, and some
salad and things? That s a good-looking win
dow over there with cooked stuff in it. We ll
have a party and each put in something."

"Chicken?" Into his face the child gazed
with pitying comprehension of his ignorance,
and in her voice was shrill amusement. "Chick
en! Did you ever price one? I have, when
I m having kings and queens taking dinner with
me in my mind. People don t have chicken
cept at Christmas, and sometimes Sundays if
there hasn t been anybody out of work for a
long time. Come on. I ve got a box of sar
dines. Just think, Father, he wants to buy a
chicken!"

With a gay little laugh in which was shrewd
knowledge of the unthinkableness of certain
indulgences, the child slipped one arm through
her father s and another through Van Landing s,
and with a happy skip led the way down the
poorly lighted street. A solid mass of dreary-
looking houses, with fronts unrelieved by a
distinguishing feature, stretched as far as the
eye could see, and when a few blocks had been



HOW IT HAPPENED

walked it was with a sense of relief that a cor
ner was turned and Van Landing found him
self at the foot of a flight of steps up which
the child bounded and beckoned him to follow.

The house was like the others, one of a long
row, and dull and dark and dingy, but from its
basement came a baby s wailing, while from the
floor above, as the hall was entered, could be
heard the rapid click of a sewing-machine.
Four flights of steps were mounted; then Car-
mencita took the key from her father s pocket
and opened the door.

"This is our suite," she said, and courtesied
low. "Please strike a match, if you have one,
Mr. Van. This house is very old, and history
houses don t have electric lights. The ghosts
wouldn t like it. Some of my best friends are
ghosts. I ll be back in a minute."

As she ran into the little hall room adjoin
ing the large room which he saw comprised
their "suite," Van Landing lighted the lamp
near the mantel and looked around. In the
center was a marble-topped table, and on it
a lamp, a work-basket, and several magazines
with backs half gone. The floor was bare save
for a small and worn rug here and there, and
on the sills of the uncurtained windows two

52



HOW IT HAPPENED

hardy geraniums were blooming bravely. A
chest of drawers, a few chairs, a shelf of books,
a rug-covered cot, a corner cupboard, a wash-
stand behind a screen, and a small table
near the stove, behind which a box of wood
could be seen, completed its furnishings; and
still, despite its bareness, there was something
in it which was not in the place wherein
he lived, and wonderingly he again looked
around. Had he found himself in the moon
or at the bottom of the Dead Sea it would be
hardly less remarkable than finding himself
here. Adventures of this sort were entirely
out of his experience. As regulated as a piece
of machinery his life had become of late, and
the routine of office and club and house had
been accepted as beyond escape, and the chance
meeting of this little creature

"Oh, my goodness! I forgot to put the ket
tle on!"

With a spring that came apparently from the
door opposite the stove near which he was
standing Carmencita was by his side, and, swift
movement following swift movement, the lid
of the stove was lifted, wood put in, the kettle
of water put on, and the table drawn farther
out in the floor. A moment more the lamp was
s 53



HOW IT HAPPENED

lighted, her father s coat and hat in place, his
chair drawn up to the now roaring fire; then,
with speculation in her eyes, she stood for half
a moment, hands on hips, looking first at Van
Landing and then at the cupboard in the corner.

For the first time he saw well the slender lit-
tel body out of its long, loose coat, the heavy,
brown curls which tumbled over the oval face,
the clear eyes that little escaped, so keen was
their quality, and the thin legs with their small
feet in large shoes, and as he looked he smiled.

"Well," he asked, "can I help you? You
seem very uncertain."

"I am. Put your hat and coat over there"
she pointed to the covered cot close to the
wall "then come back and tell me."

He did as directed and, hands in pockets,
stood again in front of her. "Is" his face
whitened "is it about Miss Barbour? Can
you send her word?"

"Send now? I guess not!" On tiptoes the
child looked for something on the mantel-piece.
"We haven t had supper yet, and I m so hungry
I could eat air. Besides, she has a class to
night The Little Big Sisters. I m one when
I can go, but I can t go often." She waved her
hand in the direction of her father. "I ll send

54



HOW IT HAPPENED

for her bout half past nine. Which do you
like best, sardines with lemon on em, or toasted
cheese on toast with syrup afterward ? Which ?"

The tone was one of momentous inquiry.
Miss Barbour s coming was a matter that could
wait, but supper necessitated a solemn decision
which must be made at once. Hands clasped
behind her, the blue eyes grew big with sus
pense, and again she repeated, "Which?"

"I realty don t know. Both are very good.
I believe I like sardines better than Oh no,
I don t." He had caught the flicker of disap
pointment in the anxious little face. "I mean
I think toasted cheese the best thing to eat
that s going. Let s have that!"

"All right." With another spring the child
was at the cupboard, and swiftly she went to
work. "Read to father, won t you?" she called,
without looking round. "In that magazine
with the geranium leaf sticking out is where I
left off. You ll have to read right loud."

Drawing his chair close to the lighted lamp,
Van Landing took his seat near the blind
musician, and for the first time noticed the
slender, finely formed fingers of the hands now
resting on the arms of the chair in which he
sat; noticed the shiny, well-worn coat and the

55



HOW IT HAPPENED

lock of white hair that fell across the high fore
head; saw the sensitive mouth; and as he
looked he wondered as to the story that was
his. An old one, perhaps. Born of better
blood than his present position implied, he had
evidently found the battle of life more than he
was equal to, and, unfit to fight, he had doubt
less slipped down and down in the scale of
human society until to-day he and his child
were dwellers on the borderland of the slums.

He found the article and began to read.
The technicalities of musical composition had
never appealed to him, but, though by him the
writer s exhaustive knowledge of his subject
was not appreciated, by his listener it was
greatly so, and, in tense eagerness to miss no
word, the latter leaned forward and kept his
sightless eyes in the direction of the sound
of his voice.

Not for long could he read, however. In a
few moments Carmencita s hands were out
stretched, and, giving one to each, she led
them to the -table, and at it he sat down as
naturally as though it were a familiar occur
rence. In the center was a glass jar with a
spray of red geranium in it, and behind the
earthen tea-pot the child presided with the

56




41 WHICH DO YOU LIKE BEST, SARDINES WITH LEMON ON *EM, OR
TOASTED CHEESE ON TOAST?"



HOW IT HAPPENED

ease of long usage. As she gave him his tea he
noticed it was in the only unchipped cup, and
on the one kept for herself there was no handle.
Under his breath he swore softly. Why He
mentally shook himself. This was no time for
why-ing.

As an appetizer the toasted cheese on toasted
bread was excellent, but the supper if she had
only let him get it. He had not dared insist,
and never had he been more consciously a
guest, but could people live on fare so scant as
this? It was like Frances to want to know
how other people lived and not to be content
with knowing. But after she knew how could
she sleep at night? Great God! If there was
to be a day of judgment what could men say-
men like himself and his friends?



CHAPTER VII



OR half an hour longer Carmercita
chatted gaily, offering dish after dish
of imaginary food with the assurance
that it would cause no sickness or dis
comfort, and at the child s spirit and
imagination Van Landing marveled.
The years of ignorance and indifference, in
which he had not cared to know what Frances
knew all men should know, came back dis-
quietingly, and he wondered if for him it were
too late.

As Carmencita got up to clear the table he
took out his watch and looked at it, then put
it quickly back lest she should see. Who was
going to take the note? Why couldn t he go
to the place at which was held the class of
Little Big Sisters and get Frances? With a
quick indrawing breath he handed his host
cigars.

"I hope you smoke," he said; "that is, if
Carmencita does not object."

58



HOW IT HAPPENED

"Oh, I don t object. Smoke!" Carmencita s
hand was waved. "After I wash the dishes
I ll write the note, then I ll go down and get
Noodles to take it. I ll ask Mr. Robinsky to
bring the harp up, Father. He brought it home
for us; he s a flute-er." The explanation was
made to Van Landing. "He always brings it
home when Father and I are going somewhere
else. Smoke, please. I love to smell smoke
smell."

With a splash the remaining water in the
tea-kettle was poured in the dish-pan, and for
a few moments the clatter of knives and forks
and spoons prevented talk. Over the blind
man s face crept the content that comes from
a good cigar, and in silence he and his guest
smoked while Carmencita did her work. Not
long was there silence, however, for very short
ly the child was on a stool at Van Landing s
feet, in her hands a pad of paper, and on her
knee a backless magazine.

For half a minute she looked in Van Landing s
face. "Isn t it nice and funny your being
here? I like you." Her voice was joyous.
"If I tell you something, you won t tell?" She
leaned forward, hands on his knees. "This
afternoon before I went out I asked God please

59



HOW IT HAPPENED

to let something nice happen. There hasn t
anything very nice happened for so long, I was
afraid He had forgot. What must I write, Mr.
Van?"

Into Van Landing s face the color surged,
then died away and left it strangely white.
The child s eyes were holding his, and he did
not try to avoid them. It didn t matter. The
only thing that mattered was to get Frances
quickly.

"Tell her I must see her to-night, that I must
come to her. Why can 1 1 go to her, Carmencita ?

"Because she doesn t want anybody to come
to see her that she doesn t tell to come. She
told me so herself, and I wouldn t break her
rules for a gold ring with a ruby in it. I know.
I ll tell her I m bound to show her something
to-night or I won t sleep a wink. And you ll be
It! You can go in Father s room, and when
she comes in you will come out and say
What will you say, Mr. Van?"

"I don t know. Perhaps I sha n t say any
thing. Sometimes one can t."

"I ll look in that book I read once and see
what he said, if you want me to. It was a
beautiful book. It had an awful lot of love in
it. I know what I m going to write."

60



HOW IT HAPPENED

For some moments she wrote laboriously on
the pad, which wabbled badly on her knees,
then she folded the piece of paper and, getting
up, went toward the door. Van Landing fol
lowed her.

"The boy," he said. "Will you give him
this and tell him if the note is delivered to
Miss B arbour personally there will be more
when he comes back?" He held out his hand.

As if not seeing aright, Carmencita looked
closely at what was held toward her, then up
in Van Landing s face. You must have plenty
of money, if you haven t any friends," she said,
and in her voice was faint suspicion. "Noodles
can t have that. He d never go anywhere for
me again if he got that much." Her hand
waved his away. "When he comes back, if
you ll give him a quarter he ll stand on his
head. It s hard and hollow, and he makes
right smart standing on it and wriggling his
feet." She shook her head. "It would ruin
him to give him a dollar. Please read to Father. *

Her visitor s face flushed. Why couldn t
he remember? "Very well," he said; "man
age it your way. Tell him to hurry, will you?"

Would she come? With his lips Stephen Van
Landing was pronouncing the words of the

61



HOW IT HAPPENED

article he had again begun to read to the blind
harpist, but in his heart, which was beating
thickly, other words were surging, and every
now and then he wiped his forehead lest its
dampness be seen by the child s keen eyes.
Would she come? Three years had passed
since senseless selfishness on his part had made
her spirit flare and she had given him back his
ring. For a moment he had held it, and in
the dancing flames of the logs upon the hearth
in the library of her beautiful old-fashioned
home its stones had gleamed brilliantly, flashed
protesting fire; then he had dropped it in the
blaze and turned and left the room. Had she
forgotten, or had she suffered, too?

With mechanical monotony the words con
tinued to come from his lips, but his thoughts
were afar off, and presently Carmencita took
the magazine out of his hand.

"Excuse me," she said, "but Father is asleep,
and you don t know a word you re saying.
You might as well stop."

Putting the magazine on the table, Car
mencita drew the stool on which she was sitting
closer to Van Landing s chair, and, hands clasp
ed around her knees, looked up into his eyes.
In hers was puzzled questioning.

62



HOW IT HAPPENED

I beg your pardon. His face flushed under
the grave scrutiny bent upon him. I was read
ing abominably, but I couldn t get my mind

"I know," Carmencita nodded understand-
ingly. "I do that way sometimes when I m
saying one thing and thinking another, and
Father always takes a little nap until I get out
of the clouds. He says I spend a lot of my
time in the clouds. I m bound to soar some
times. If I didn t make out I wasn t really and
truly living here, on the top floor, with the
Rheinhimers underneath, but just waiting for
our house to be fixed up, I couldn t stand it
all the time. I d go"

She hesitated, then again went on. "You
see, it s this way. There re a lot of things I
hate, but I ve got to stand them, and the only
way I can do it is to get away from them in my
mind sometimes. Father says it s the way we
stand things that proves the kind of person we
are; but Father is Father, and I am me, and
letting out is a great relief. Did you ever feel
as if you re bound to say things sometimes?"

"I m afraid I ve not only felt I had to say
them, but I said them." Van Landing looked
at his watch. "Your Father is doubtless right,
but"

63



HOW IT HAPPENED

"Noodles hasn t had time to get back yet,
and she might not be there." Carmencita
glanced toward the clock. "And Father is al
ways right. He s had to sit so many hours
alone and think and think and think, that he s
had time to ask God about a good many things
we don t take time to ask about. I pray a lot,
but my kind of prayers isn t praying. They re
mostly asking, and Father says prayer is re
ceiving is getting God in you, I mean. I don t
understand, but he does, and he doesn t ask for
things like I do, but for patience and courage
and and things like that. No matter what
happens, he keeps on trusting. I don t. I m
not much of a truster. I want to do things my
way, myself." She leaned forward. "If I tell
you something will you promise not to tell any
body, not even Miss Frances when when it s
all right?"

"I promise."

Van Landing nodded at the eager little face
upraised to his. It was singularly attractive
and appealing, and the varying emotions that
swept over it indicated a temperament that
took little in life calmly, or as a common
place happening, and a surge of protest at her
surroundings swept over him.

64



HOW IT HAPPENED

"I promise," he repeated. "I won t tell."

"Cross your heart and shut your eyes and I
will tell you."

Hands on his knees, Carmencita watched the
awkward movements of Van Landing s fingers,
then she laughed joyously, but when she spoke
her voice was in a whisper.

"I m writing a book."

"You are doing what?"

"Writing a book! It s perfectly grand. That
is, some days it is, but most days it is a mess.
It was a mess yesterday, and I burned up every
single word I wrote last week. I ll show it to
you if you want to see it."

Without waiting for an answer Carmencita
sprang to her feet, and with noiseless movement
skipped across the room, and from the middle
drawer of the chest between the windows took
out a large flat box.

"This is it." Again taking her seat on the
stool at Van Landing s feet, she opened the box
carefully. One by one she lifted out of it
pieces of paper of varying size and color and
held them toward her visitor, who, hands
clasped between knees, was bending forward
and watching with amazed interest the seeming
ly exhaustless contents of the box beside him.

65



HOW IT HAPPENED

"I use pad-paper when I have it." Several
white sheets were laid in a pile by themselves.
"But most of the chapters are on wrapping-
paper. Mrs. Beckwith gives me all of hers, and
so does Mrs. Rheinhimer when her children
don t chew it up before she can save it. That s
chapter fourteen. I don t like it much, it s
so squshy, but I wrote it that way because
I read in a newspaper once that slops sold bet
ter than anything else, and I m writing this to
sell, if I can."

"Have you named it?" Van Landing s
voice was as serious as Carmencita s. "I ve
been told that a good title is a great help to a
book. I hope yours will bring you a good deal
of money, but

"So do I." Carmencita s hands came to
gether fervently. "I m bound to make some
money, and this is the only way I can think of
until I m fourteen and can go to work. I m
just thirteen and two months, and I can t go
yet. The law won t let me. I used to think
it took a lot of sense to write a book, but the
Damanarkist says it don t, and that anybody
who is fool enough to waste time could write
the truck people read nowadays. He don t
read it, but I do, all I can get I like it."

66



HOW IT HAPPENED