Joshua Marvel. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold
my crutches any more," he whispered in Joshua's ear as thus they lay; "that is all. It isn't as bad as you think."
"You are not going to die, Dan?" asked Joshua in a trembling voice.
"I don't think I am-yet. It is only because I am almost certain-I feel it, Jo-that I shall be a helpless cripple all my life, and that I shall not be able to move about, even with the help of crutches."
"Poor dear Dan!" said Joshua, checking his sobs with difficulty.
"Poor Dan! Not at all! I can read, I can think, and I can love you, Jo, all the same. I have made up my mind what I am going to do. I shall live in you. You are my friend, and strong as you are, you can't love me more than I love you. And even if I was to die, dear" -
"Don't say that, Dan; I can't bear to think of it."
"Why? It isn't dreadful. If I was to die, we should still be friends-we should still love each other. Don't you love Golden Cloud?"
Joshua whispered "Yes."
"But Golden Cloud is not here. Yet you love him. And so do I, more than I did when pet was alive. I don't quite know how it is with birds, but I do know how it is with us. If you was here, Jo, and I was there, we should meet again."
"Amen, Dan!"
"And it is nice to believe and know-as you and I believe and know-that if we were parted, we should come together again by and by; and that perhaps the dear little birds would be with us there as they are here, and that we should love them as we love them now. They are so pretty and harmless that I think God will let them come. Besides, what would the trees do without them?"
"What do you mean, Dan, by saying that you are going to live in me?"
"It is a curious fancy, Jo, but I have thought of it a good deal, and I want you to think of it too. I want to be with you, although I shall not be able to move. You are going to be a hero, and are going to see strange sights perhaps. I can see farther than you can; and I know the meaning of your going down to the riverside, as you have done a good many times lately. I know what you will make up your mind to be, although I sha'n't say until you tell me yourself. Well, Jo, I want you to fancy, if I don't know what is happening to you-if you are in any strange place, and are seeing wonderful things-I want you to fancy, 'Dan is here with me, although I cannot see him.' Will you do that, Jo, dear?"
"Yes; wherever I am, and whatever I shall see, I will think, 'Dan is here with me, although I cannot see him.'"
"That is friendship. This isn't," said Dan, holding up a finger; "this is only a little bit of flesh. If it is anywhere about us, it is here;" and he took Joshua's fingers, and pressed them to his heart. Then, after a pause of a few moments, he said, "So don't cry any more because I am cutting up my crutches; I am making some new things for the birds."
They had a concert after that; and the blackbird whistled "Polly, put the kettle on," to its heart's content; and the tomtit performed certain difficult acrobatic tricks in token of approval.
Dan recovered so far from his sickness as to be able to leave his bed. But it almost appeared as if he was right in saying that he should not want his crutches. He had not sufficient strength in his shoulders to use them. He had to be lifted in and out of bed, and sometimes could not even wash and dress himself. Ellen Taylor was his nurse, and a dear good nurse she proved herself to be. A cross word never passed her lips. She devoted herself to the service of her helpless brother with a very perfect love; and her nature was so beautiful in its gentleness and tenderness that those qualities found expression in her face, and made that beautiful also. Dan had yielded to Joshua's entreaties not to destroy his crutches. "You might be able to use them some day," Joshua would say. To which Dan would reply by asking gayly if Joshua had ever heard of a miracle in Stepney. However, he kept his crutches, and Joshua was satisfied. In course of time Joshua began to train a few birds at his own house, and now and then Dan's parents would allow Dan to be carried to Joshua's house, and to stop there for a few days. When that occurred, Dan and Joshua slept together, and would tell stories to each other long after the candle had been blown out-stories of which Joshua was almost always the hero. Joshua had one great difficulty to overcome when he first introduced the birds into his house; that difficulty was the yellow-haired cat, of which mention has already been made. With the usual amiability of her species, the domestic tigress, directly she set eyes upon the birds, determined to make a meal of them, and it required all Joshua's vigilance to prevent the slaughter of the innocents. But he was patient, and firm, and kind, and he so conquered the tigerish propensities of the cat towards the birds, that in a few weeks she began to tolerate them, and in a few weeks more to play with them and to allow them to play with her, and gradually grew so cordial with them that it might have been supposed she had kittened them by mistake.
CHAPTER IV
IN WHICH DAN GETS WILD NOTIONS INTO HIS HEAD, AND MAKES SOME VERY BOYISH EXPERIMENTS
If every farthing of the allowance of pocket-money which Joshua and Dan received from their respective parents had been carefully saved up, it would not have amounted to a very large sum in the course of the year. Insignificant, however, as was the allowance, it sufficed for their small wants, and was made to yield good interest in the way of social enjoyment. The lads did not keep separate accounts. What was Joshua's was Dan's, and what was Dan's was Joshua's. As there were no secret clasps in their minds concealing something, which the other was not to share and enjoy, so there was no secret clasp in their money-box which debarred either from spending that which, strictly speaking, belonged to his friend. Dan was the treasurer; the treasury was the money-box which was to have been Golden Cloud's coffin. Dan's allowance was two pence a week, which was often in arrears in consequence of his father being too fond of public-houses; Joshua's allowance was four pence a week, which he received very regularly. But each of their allowances was supplemented by contributions from independent sources. The motives which prompted these contributions were of a very different nature; as the following will explain: -
"Something more for the money-box, Dan," said Joshua, producing a four-penny piece, and dropping it into the box.
"From the same party, Jo?" asked Dan.
"From the same jolly old party, Dan. From the Old Sailor."
"Is he nice?"
"The Old Sailor? You should see him, that's all."
"You have been down to the waterside again, then?"
"Yes. Tuck-tuck-joey!" This latter to the linnet, who came out to have a peep at Joshua, and who, directly it heard the greeting, responded with the sweetest peal of music that mortal ever listened to. When the linnet had finished its song the obtrusive and greedy blackbird, determined not to be outdone, and quite ignoring the fact that it had had a very good supper, ordered Polly to put the kettle on, in its most piercing notes.
"Did you go on the river, Jo?" asked Dan.
"Yes. In a boat. Rowing. The Old Sailor says I am getting along famously."
"I should like to see the Old Sailor."
"I wish you could; but he is such a strange old fellow! He doesn't care for the land. When I tell mother what I am making up my mind to be-what I shall have made up mind then to be-I will coax him to come to our house. I want him to talk to mother about the sea, for she is sure to cry and fret, and although the Old Sailor doesn't think that women are as good as men, he thinks mothers are better."
Dan laughed a pleasant little laugh.
"That is queer," he said.
"He knows all about you, and he asks me every day, 'How is Dan?'"
"I am glad of that-very glad."
"So am I. I have told him all about the birds, and how, they love you. You would never guess what he said to-day about you."
"Something very bad, I dare say," said Dan, knowing very well, all the time, that it was something good, or Joshua would not tell him.
"Something very bad. He said, 'He must be a fine little chap'-meaning you, Dan-'or the birds wouldn't love him.'"
"Has he been all over the world, Jo?"
"All over the world; and O Dan, he has seen