Part 7 (1/2)

Then he tried to convince himself that his pet should be left behind; but the thought of going away from that charming home--which might have been his but for the carelessness in handling the counterfeit money--leaving behind the only friend he had known for many a long day, brought the tears to his eyes again.

”I'll have to take the poor little man with me, an' it'll come mighty rough on him!” he said with a sob. ”I reckon he thinks this kind of fun, when he can chase b.u.t.terflies an' birds to his heart's content, is goin' to last, an' he'll be dreadfully disappointed after we leave; but I couldn't get along without him!”

Gladys interrupted his mournful train of thought, and perhaps it was well, for the boy was rapidly working himself into a most melancholy frame of mind.

She and Snip came tearing into the barn as if there was no other aim in this life than enjoyment, and so startled the sorrowing Seth that he arose to his feet in something very nearly resembling alarm.

”If you jump like that I shall begin to think you are as nervous as Aunt Hannah,” she cried with a merry laugh. ”She insists that between Snip and me there will no longer be any peace for her, unless we sober down very suddenly; but do you know, Seth, that I've lived here with no other companion than the dear old woman so long, it seems as if some good fairy had sent this little fluff of white to make me happy.

I had rather have him for a friend than all the children in the neighborhood, which isn't saying very much, in view of the fact that the two Dean boys and Malvinia Stubbs are the only people of nearabout my age in this section of the country.”

”I believe Snip thinks as much of you as you do of him,” Seth replied gloomily. ”I never knew him to make friends with any one before; but perhaps that was because he saw only the fellers who liked to tease him. If I wasn't mighty mean, he'd stay here all the time.”

”Of course he'll stay,” Gladys cried as she tossed the tiny dog in the air while he gave vent to an imitation growl. ”Aunt Hannah and I have arranged it without so much as asking your permission. You two are to live here; Snip's work is to enjoy himself with me, while you're to make a garden, the like of which won't be seen this side of New York.

What do you think of settling down to being a farmer?”

”I'd like it mighty well, but it can't be done.” And Seth gazed out through the open door, not daring to meet Miss Gladys' startled gaze.

”Wait till you've talked with Aunt Hannah,” she exclaimed after the first burst of surprise had pa.s.sed. ”We've fixed everything, an'

you'll find that there isn't a word for you to say.”

”I have talked with her,” Seth replied gloomily. ”We'd both love to stay mighty well, but we can't.”

”I'd like to know why”; and now Gladys was on her feet, looking sternly at the sorrowful guest. ”Neither you nor Snip have got a home, an' here's one with the best woman who ever lived--that much I know to a certainty.”

”I believe you, but it can't be done.” And the boy walked to the other side of the barn as if to end the conversation.

Gladys looked after him for a moment in mingled surprise and petulance, and then, taking Snip in her arms, she walked straight into the house, leaving him seemingly more alone than ever.

During the remainder of the forenoon neither Aunt Hannah, Gladys, nor Snip came out of the door, and then the little woman summoned him to dinner.

Seth entered the house much as a miserable culprit might have done, and, after making a toilet at the kitchen sink, sat down at the table in obedience to Aunt Hannah's instructions.

This time he half expected she would pray, and was not mistaken. Not having been taken by surprise, he heard every word, and his cheeks crimsoned with mingled shame and pleasure as she asked her Heavenly Father to bless and guide the homeless stranger who had come to them, inclining his heart to the right path.

Aunt Hannah did not use many words in asking the blessing; but to Seth each one was full of a meaning which could not be mistaken, and he knew she was pleading that he might be willing to confess his sins.

Perhaps if the good woman had asked at the conclusion of the prayer why he left New York, Seth would have told her everything; but no word was spoken on the subject, and by the time dinner had come to an end he was more firmly convinced than ever that she could not forgive him for having pa.s.sed the counterfeit money.

Nothing was said regarding his departure or the proposition that he should become a member of the household; but Gladys gave the outlines of a journey she proposed making with Snip that afternoon, and the heavy-hearted boy understood that it was not her purpose to return until nightfall.

Then Aunt Hannah asked if he felt equal to the task of spading up a small piece of ground behind the barn, where she counted on making a garden, and he could do no less than agree to undertake the task.

Therefore did it seem to him as if he was in duty bound to remain at the farm during the remainder of that day at least; but there was in his mind the fact that he must continue his aimless journey that very night, or be willing to give a detailed account of his wrongdoing.

Immediately after the meal had been brought to a close Seth went out with the little woman to begin the work of making ready for a garden.

When she had explained what was necessary to be done he labored at the task with feverish energy, for it seemed to him as if the task must be concluded before he would be at liberty to leave the farm, and go he must, because each moment was it becoming more nearly impossible to bring himself to confess why he and Snip were fugitives.

Some of the neighbors called upon Aunt Hannah that afternoon, therefore she was forced to leave him alone after having described what must be done in order to make a garden of the unpromising looking land behind the barn; and he knew that Gladys and Snip would not return until time for supper, because the girl had plainly given him to understand as much during the conversation at the dinner-table.