Play, Louis, Play!* by Muriel Harris Weinstein

Author:Muriel Harris Weinstein [Weinstein, Muriel Harris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Retail, cookie429, Ages 7+
ISBN: 9781599903750
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Published: 2010-12-07T08:00:00+00:00

Hunched over in a dark corner, all the way in the back, Louis’ body couldn’t stop trembling. He buried his fists in his eyes to stop the flood of tears. But his fists couldn’t hold them back. His shirt got so wet you’d think he was just baptized. Fear shook his body. Even his hands and legs were shaking. The police were taking him away, and he didn’t know when he’d come back.

C H A P T E R 7

How Did a Bad Thing

Turn into a Good Thing?

All his life, Louis had heard terrible stories about the Colored Waif’s Home for Boys. And now he was going there. Not only was he alone but, worse, he was without me … me, his horn. And how do you think I felt when I heard Louis would be taken away?

The Colored Waif’s Home was out in the country, way out. The horses clopped on the gravel path in an easy rhythm. They knew the road blindfolded, but Louis told me later that he hoped they’d lose their way.

When the wagon finally stopped and Louis jumped out, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There were acres and acres of grassy land. Huge trees spread their arms out as if to hug the Lord. Gardens surrounded the building; green was the only color he could see. Across the road was the biggest dairy farm around, where hundreds of cows, bulls, calves, and some horses lived. What a difference between this and the muddy streets and run-down shacks of the Battlefield.

Louis kept sniffing. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Honeysuckle, child,” was the answer.

“That smell’s gotta come from heaven,” Louis said. His nose sniffed the air like a bird dog’s. He had never smelled anything so good.

The Home was a combination orphanage and reform school. It was an old building—but, oh, so clean. The boys there scoured and scrubbed and polished it till it shone. Louis had to wash the dishes, dry the dishes, scrub the floor, paint, and clean the toilets. Those boys dusted and polished every shelf, every table, every piece of furniture in that Home. Louis didn’t mind the hard work. He did everything expected of him; he even enjoyed it. Would you believe they also raised their fruits and vegetables in gardens surrounding the building? Yes sirree, they grew the food they ate.

Louis settled into a ward of twelve or fifteen boys. Every morning a big warm breakfast was on his table and every night clean sheets were on his bed. Louis couldn’t believe it. He had never had this before.

Now, everyone knew how Louis’ tongue loved to wag. Every thought in his head wiggled right down to his tongue. In the Home, without a special friend like me to listen to his thoughts, Louis discovered that he liked writing about his life on pads or in notebooks. That was the beginning of Louis’ journals. He loved to write—words and music.

His mile-long smile and friendly ways won the hearts of the kids and the staff … except for Mr.

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