CHAPTER V
BEN GETS A PLACE
When Ben awoke next morning, he looked about him for a moment halfbewildered, because there was neither a canvas tent, a barn roof, northe blue sky above him, but a neat white ceiling, where several fliesbuzzed sociably together, while from without came, not the tramping ofhorses, the twitter of swallows, or the chirp of early birds, but thecomfortable cackle of hens and the sound of two little voices chantingthe multiplication table.
Sancho sat at the open window, watching the old cat wash her face, andtrying to imitate her with his great ruffled paw, so awkwardly that Benlaughed; and Sanch, to hide his confusion at being caught, made onebound from chair to bed, and licked his master's face so energeticallythat the boy dived under the bedclothes to escape from the rough tongue.A rap on the floor from below made both jump up, and in ten minutes ashiny-faced lad and a lively dog went racing downstairs,--one to say,"Good-mornin', ma'am," the other to wag his tail faster than ever tailwagged before, for ham frizzled on the stove, and Sancho was fond of it.
"Did you rest well?" asked Mrs. Moss, nodding at him, fork in hand.
"Guess I did! Never saw such a bed. I'm used to hay and ahorse-blanket, and lately nothin' but sky for a cover and grass for myfeather-bed," laughed Ben, grateful for present comforts and makinglight of past hardships.
"Clean, sweet corn-husks ain't bad for young bones, even if they haven'tgot more flesh on them than yours have," answered Mrs. Moss, giving thesmooth head a motherly stroke as she went by.
"Fat ain't allowed in our profession, ma'am. The thinner the better fortight-ropes and tumblin'; likewise bareback ridin' and spry jugglin'.Muscle's the thing, and there you are."
Ben stretched out a wiry little arm with a clenched fist at the end ofit, as if he were a young Hercules, ready to play ball with the stove ifshe gave him leave. Glad to see him in such good spirits, she pointed tothe well outside, saying pleasantly,--
"Well, then, just try your muscle by bringing in some fresh water."
Ben caught up a pail and ran off, ready to be useful; but, while hewaited for the bucket to fill down among the mossy stones, he lookedabout him, well pleased with all he saw,--the small brown house with apretty curl of smoke rising from its chimney, the little sisters sittingin the sunshine, green hills and newly-planted fields far and near, abrook dancing through the orchard, birds singing in the elm avenue, andall the world as fresh and lovely as early summer could make it.
"Don't you think it's pretty nice here?" asked Bab, as his eye came backto them after a long look, which seemed to take in every thing,brightening as it roved.
"Just the nicest place that ever was. Only needs a horse roundsomewhere to be complete," answered Ben, as the long well-sweep came upwith a dripping bucket at one end, an old grindstone at the other.
"The judge has three, but he's so fussy about them he won't even let uspull a few hairs out of old Major's tail to make rings of," said Betty,shutting her arithmetic, with an injured expression.
"Mike lets me ride the white one to water when the judge isn't round.It's such fun to go jouncing down the lane and back. I do love horses!"cried Bab, bobbing up and down on the blue bench to imitate the motionof white Jenny.
"I guess you are a plucky sort of a girl," and Ben gave her an approvinglook as he went by, taking care to slop a little water on Mrs. Puss, whostood curling her whiskers and humping up her back at Sancho.
"Come to breakfast!" called Mrs. Moss; and for about twenty minuteslittle was said, as mush and milk vanished in a way that would haveastonished even Jack the Giant-killer with his leather bag.
"Now, girls, fly round and get your chores done up; Ben, you go chop mesome kindlings; and I'll make things tidy. Then we can all start off atonce," said Mrs. Moss, as the last mouthful vanished, and Sancho lickedhis lips over the savory scraps that fell to his share.
Ben fell to chopping so vigorously that chips flew wildly all about theshed; Bab rattled the cups into her dish-pan with dangerous haste, andBetty raised a cloud of dust "sweeping-up;" while mother seemed to beeverywhere at once. Even Sanch, feeling that his fate was at stake,endeavored to help in his own somewhat erratic way,--now friskingabout Ben at the risk of getting his tail chopped off, then trottingaway to poke his inquisitive nose into every closet and room whither hefollowed Mrs. Moss in her "flying round" evolutions; next dragging offthe mat so Betty could brush the door-steps, or inspecting Bab'sdish-washing by standing on his hind-legs to survey the table with acritical air. When they drove him out he was not the least offended, butgayly barked Puss up a tree, chased all the hens over the fence, andcarefully interred an old shoe in the garden, where the remains of themutton-bone were already buried.
By the time the others were ready, he had worked off his superfluousspirits, and trotted behind the party like a well-behaved dog accustomedto go out walking with ladies. At the cross-roads they separated, thelittle girls running on to school, while Mrs. Moss and Ben went up tothe Squire's big house on the hill.
"Don't you be scared, child. I'LL make it all right about your runningaway; and if the Squire gives you a job, just thank him for it, and doyour best to be steady and industrious; then you'll get on, I haven't adoubt," she whispered, ringing the Ben at a side-door, on which the word"Morris" shone in bright letters.
"Come in!" called a gruff voice; and, feeling very much as if he weregoing to have a tooth out, Ben meekly followed the good woman, who puton her pleasantest smile, anxious to make the best possible impression.
A white-headed old gentleman sat reading a paper, and peered over hisglasses at the new-comers with a pair of sharp eyes, saying in a testytone, which would have rather daunted any one who did not know what akind heart he had under his capacious waistcoat,--
"Good-morning, ma'am. What's the matter now? Young tramp been stealingyour chickens?"
"Oh, dear no, sir!" exclaimed Mrs. Moss, as if shocked at the idea.Then, in a few words, she told Ben's story, unconsciously making hiswrongs and destitution so pathetic by her looks and tones, that theSquire could not help being interested, and even Ben pitied himself asif he were somebody else.
"Now, then, boy, what can you do?" asked the old gentleman, with anapproving nod to Mrs. Moss as she finished, and such a keen glance fromunder his bushy brows that Ben felt as if he was perfectly transparent.
"'Most any thing, sir, to get my livin'."
"Can you weed?"
"Never did, but I can learn, sir."
"Pull up all the beets and leave the pigweed, hey? Can you pickstrawberries?"
"Never tried any thing but eatin' 'em, sir,"
"Not likely to forget that part of the job. Can you ride a horse toplow?"
"Guess I could, sir!"--and Ben's eyes began to sparkle, for he dearlyloved the noble animals who had been his dearest friends lately.
"No antics allowed. My horse is a fine fellow, and I'm very particularabout him." The Squire spoke soberly, but there was a twinkle in hiseye, and Mrs. Moss tried not to smile; for the Squire's horse was a jokeall over the town, being about twenty years old, and having a peculiargait of his own, lifting his fore-feet very high, with a great show ofspeed, though never going out of a jog-trot. The boys used to say hegalloped before and walked behind, and made all sorts of fun of the big,Roman-nosed beast, who allowed no liberties to be taken with him.
"I'm too fond of horses to hurt 'em, Sir. As for ridin', I ain't afraidof any thing on four legs. The King of Morocco used to kick and bitelike fun, but I could manage him first-rate."
"Then you'd be able to drive cows to pasture, perhaps?"
"I've drove elephants and camels, ostriches and grizzly bears, andmules, and six yellow ponies all to oncet. May be I could manage cows ifI tried hard," answered Ben, endeavoring to be meek and respectful whenscorn filled his soul at the idea of not being able to drive a cow.
The Squire liked him all the better for the droll mixture of indignationand amusement betrayed by the fire in his eyes and the sly smile roundhis
lips; and being rather tickled by Ben's list of animals, he answeredgravely,--
"Don't raise elephants and camels much round here. Bears used to beplenty, but folks got tired of them. Mules are numerous, but we have thetwo-legged kind; and as a general thing prefer Shanghae fowls toostriches."
He got no farther, for Ben laughed out so infectiously that both theothers joined him; and somehow that jolly laugh seemed to settle mattersthan words. As they stopped, the Squire tapped on the window behind him,saying, with an attempt at the former gruffness,--
"We'll try you on cows awhile. My man will show you where to drivethem, and give you some odd jobs through the day. I'll see what you aregood for, and send you word to-night, Mrs. Moss. The boy can sleep atyour house, can't he?"
"Yes, indeed, sir. He can go on doing it, and come up to his work justas well as not. I can see to him then, and he won't be a care to anyone," said Mrs. Moss, heartily.
"I'll make inquiries concerning your father, boy; meantime mind what youare about, and have a good report to give when he comes for you,"returned the Squire, with a warning wag of a stern fore-finger.
"Thanky', sir. I will, sir. Father'll come just as soon as he can, ifhe isn't sick or lost," murmured Ben, inwardly thanking his stars thathe had not done any thing to make him quake before that awful finger,and resolved that he never would.
Here a red-headed Irishman came to the door, and stood eying the boywith small favor while the Squire gave his orders.
"Pat, this lad wants work. He's to take the cows and go for them. Givehim any light jobs you have, and let me know if he's good for anything."
"Yis, your honor. Come out o' this, b'y, till I show ye the bastes,"responded Pat; and, with a hasty good-by to Mrs. Moss, Ben followed hisnew leader, sorely tempted to play some naughty trick upon him in returnfor his ungracious reception.
But in a moment he forgot that Pat existed, for in the yard stood theDuke of Wellington, so named in honor of his Roman nose. If Ben hadknown any thing about Shakespeare, he would have cried, "A horse, ahorse! my kingdom for a horse!" for the feeling was in his heart, and heran up to the stately animal without a fear. Duke put back his ears andswished his tail as if displeased for a moment; but Ben looked straightin his eyes, gave a scientific stroke to the iron-gray nose, and uttereda chirrup which made the ears prick up as if recognizing a familiarsound.
"He'll nip ye, if ye go botherin' that way. Leave him alone, and attendto the cattle as his honor told ye," commanded Pat, who made a greatshow of respect toward Duke in public, and kicked him brutally inprivate.
"I ain't afraid! You won't hurt me, will you, old feller? See therenow!--he knows I 'm a friend, and takes to me right off," said Ben,with an arm around Duke's neck, and his own cheek confidingly laidagainst the animal's; for the intelligent eyes spoke to him as plainlyas the little whinny which he understood and accepted as a welcome.
The Squire saw it all from the open window, and suspecting from Pat'sface that trouble was brewing, called out,--
"Let the lad harness Duke, if he can. I'm going out directly, and hemay as well try that as any thing."
Ben was delighted, and proved himself so brisk and handy that the roomychaise stood at the door in a surprisingly short time, with a smilinglittle ostler at Duke's head when the Squire came out.
His affection for the horse pleased the old gentleman, and his neat wayof harnessing suited as well; but Ben got no praise, except a nod and abrief "All right, boy," as the equipage went creaking and jogging away.
Four sleek cows filed out of the barnyard when Pat opened the gate, andBen drove them down the road to a distant pasture where the early grassawaited their eager cropping. By the school they went, and the boylooked pityingly at the black, brown, and yellow heads bobbing past thewindows as a class went up to recite; for it seemed a hard thing to theliberty-loving lad to be shut up there so many hours on a morning likethat.
But a little breeze that was playing truant round the steps did Ben aservice without knowing it, for a sudden puff blew a torn leaf to hisfeet, and seeing a picture he took it up. It evidently had fallen fromsome ill-used history, for the picture showed some queer ships atanchor, some oddly dressed men just landing, and a crowd of Indiansdancing about on the shore. Ben spelt out all he could about theseinteresting personages, but could not discover what it meant, becauseink evidently had deluged the page, to the new reader's greatdisappointment.
"I'll ask the girls; may be they will know," said Ben to himself as,after looking vainly for more stray leaves, he trudged on, enjoying thebobolink's song, the warm sunshine, and a comfortable sense offriendliness and safety, which soon set him to whistling as gayly as anyblackbird in the meadow.
Under the Lilacs Page 5