CHAPTER VII
NEW FRIENDS TROT IN
Next day Ben ran off to his work with Quackenbos's "Elementary Historyof the United States" in his pocket, and the Squire's cows had ampletime to breakfast on way-side grass before they were put into theirpasture. Even then the pleasant lesson was not ended, for Ben had anerrand to town; and all the way he read busily, tumbling over the hardwords, and leaving bits which he did not understand to be explained atnight by Bab.
At "The First Settlements" he had to stop, for the schoolhouse wasreached, and the book must be returned. The maple-tree closet was easilyfound, and a little surprise hidden under the flat stone; for Ben paidtwo sticks of red and white candy for the privilege of taking books fromthe new library.
When recess came, great was the rejoicing of the children over theirunexpected treat, for Mrs. Moss had few pennies to spare for sweets,and, somehow, this candy tasted particularly nice, bought out ofgrateful Ben's solitary dime. The little girls shared their goodies withtheir favorite mates, but said nothing about the new arrangement,fearing it would be spoilt if generally known. They told their mother,however, and she gave them leave to lend their books and encourage Bento love learning all they could. She also proposed that they should droppatch-work, and help her make some blue shirts for Ben. Mrs. Barton hadgiven her the materials, and she thought it would be an excellent lessonin needle-work as well as a useful gift to Ben,--who, boy-like, nevertroubled himself as to what he should wear when his one suit of clothesgave out.
Wednesday afternoon was the sewing time; so the two little B's workedbusily at a pair of shirt-sleeves, sitting on their bench in thedoorway, while the rusty needles creaked in and out, and the childishvoices sang school-songs, with frequent stoppages for lively chatter.
For a week, Ben worked away bravely, and never shirked nor complained,although Pat put many a hard or disagreeable job upon him, and choresgrew more and more distasteful. His only comfort was the knowledge thatMrs. Moss and the Squire were satisfied with him; his only pleasure thelessons he learned while driving the cows, and recited in the eveningwhen the three children met under the lilacs to "play school."
He had no thought of studying when he began, and hardly knew that he wasdoing it as he pored over the different books he took from the library.But the little girls tried him with all they Possessed, and he wasmortified to find how ignorant he was. He never owned it in words, butgladly accepted all the bits of knowledge they offered from their smallstore; getting Betty to hear him spell "just for fun;" agreeing to drawBab all the bears and tigers she wanted if she would show him how to dosums on the flags, and often beguiled his lonely labors by trying tochant the multiplication table as they did. When Tuesday night cameround, the Squire paid him a dollar, said he was "a likely boy," andmight stay another week if he chose. Ben thanked him and thought hewould; but the next morning, after he had put up the bars, he remainedsitting on the top rail to consider his prospects, for he feltuncommonly reluctant to go back to the society of rough Pat. Like mostboys, he hated work, unless it was of a sort which just suited him; thenhe could toil like a beaver and never tire. His wandering life had givenhim no habits of steady industry; and, while he was an unusually capablelad of his age, he dearly loved to "loaf" about and have a good deal ofvariety and excitement in his life.
Now he saw nothing before him but days of patient and very uninterestinglabor. He was heartily sick of weeding; even riding Duke before thecultivator had lost its charms, and a great pile of wood lay in theSquire's yard which he knew he would be set to piling up in the shed.Strawberry-picking would soon follow the asparagus cultivation; thenhaying; and and so on all the long bright summer, without any fun,unless his father came for him.
On the other hand, he was not obliged to stay a minute longer unless heliked. With a comfortable suit of clothes, a dollar in his pocket, and arow of dinner-baskets hanging in the school-house entry to supply himwith provisions if he didn't mind stealing them, what was easier than torun away again? Tramping has its charms in fair weather, and Ben hadlived like a gypsy under canvas for years; so he feared nothing, andbegan to look down the leafy road with a restless, wistful expression,as the temptation grew stronger and stronger every minute.
Sancho seemed to share the longing, for he kept running off a little wayand stopping to frisk and bark; then rushed back to sit watching hismaster with those intelligent eyes of his, which seemed to say, "Comeon, Ben, let us scamper down this pleasant road and never stop till weare tired." Swallows darted by, white clouds fled before the balmy westwind, a squirrel ran along the wall, and all things seemed to echo theboy's desire to leave toil behind and roam away as care-free as they.One thing restrained him, the thought of his seeming ingratitude to goodMrs. Moss, and the disappointment of the little girls at the loss oftheir two new play-fellows. While he paused to think of this, somethinghappened which kept him from doing what he would have been sure toregret afterward.
Horses had always been his best friends, and one came trotting up tohelp him now; though he did not know how much he owed it till longafter. Just in the act of swinging himself over the bars to take ashortcut across the fields, the sound of approaching hoofs,unaccompanied by the roll of wheels, caught his ear; and, pausing, hewatched eagerly to see who was coming at such a pace.
At the turn of road, however, the quick trot stopped, and in a moment alady on a bay mare came pacing slowly into sight,--a young and prettylady, all in dark blue, with a bunch of dandelions like yellow stars inher button-hole, and a silver-handled whip hanging from the pommel ofher saddle, evidently more for ornament than use. The handsome marelimped a little, and shook her head as if something plagued her; whileher mistress leaned down to see what was the matter, saying, as if sheexpected an answer of some sort,--
"Now, Chevalita, if you have got a stone in your foot, I shall have toget off and take it out. Why don't you look where you step, and save meall this trouble?"
"I'll look for you, ma'am; I'd like to!" said an eager voice sounexpectedly, that both horse and rider started as a boy came down thebank with a jump.
"I wish you would. You need not be afraid; Lita is as gentle as alamb," answered the young lady, smiling, as if amused by the boy'searnestness.
"She's a beauty, any way," muttered Ben, lifting one foot after anothertill he found the stone, and with some trouble got it out.
"That was nicely done, and I'm much obliged. Can you tell me if thatcross-road leads to the Elms?" asked the lady, as she went slowly onwith Ben beside her.
"No, ma'am; I'm new in these parts, and I only know where Squire Morrisand Mrs. Moss live."
"I want to see both of them, so suppose you show me the way. I was herelong ago, and thought I should remember how to find the old house withthe elm avenue and the big gate, but I don't."
"I know it; they call that place the Laylocks now, 'cause there's ahedge of 'em all down the path and front wall. It's a real pretty place;Bab and Betty play there, and so do I."
Ben could not restrain a chuckle at the recollection of his firstappearance there, and, as if his merriment or his words interested her,the lady said pleasantly,
"Tell me all about it. Are Bab and Betty your sisters?" Quiteforgetting his intended tramp, Ben plunged into a copious history ofhimself and new-made friends, led on by a kind look, an inquiring word,and sympathetic smile, till he had told every thing. At the school-housecorner he stopped and said, spreading his arms like a sign-post,--
"That's the way to the Laylocks, and this is the way to the Squire's."
"As I'm in a hurry to see the old house, I'll go this way first, if youwill be kind enough to give my love to Mrs. Morris, and tell the SquireMiss Celia is coming to dine with him. I won't say good-by, because Ishall see you again."
With a nod and a smile, the young lady cantered away, and Ben hurried upthe hill to deliver his message, feeling as if something pleasant wasgoing to happen; so it would be wise to defer running away, for thepresent at least.
At o
ne o'clock Miss Celia arrived, and Ben had the delight of helpingPat stable pretty Chevalita; then, his own dinner hastily eaten, he fellto work at the detested wood-pile with sudden energy; for as he workedhe could steal peeps into the dining-room, and see the curly brown headbetween the two gay ones, as the three sat round the table. He could nothelp hearing a word now and then, as the windows were open, and thesebits of conversation filled him with curiosity for the names "Thorny,""Celia," and "George" were often repeated, and an occasional merry laughfrom the young lady sounded like music in that usually quiet place.
When dinner was over, Ben's industrious fit left him, and he leisurelytrundled his barrow to and fro till the guest departed. There was nochance for him to help now, since Pat, anxious to get whatever triflemight be offered for his services, was quite devoted in his attentionsto the mare and her mistress, till she was mounted and off. But MissCelia did not forget her little guide, and, spying a wistful face behindthe wood-pile, paused at the gate and beckoned with that winning smileof hers. If ten Pats had stood scowling in the way, Ben would havedefied them all; and, vaulting over the fence, he ran up with a shiningface, hoping she wanted some last favor of him. Leaning down, Miss Celiaslipped a new quarter into his hand, saying,
"Lita wants me to give you this for taking the stone out of her foot."
"Thank y', ma'am; I liked to do it, for I hate to see 'em limp,'specially such a pretty one as she is," answered Ben, stroking theglossy neck with a loving touch.
"The Squire says you know a good deal about horses, so I suppose youunderstand the Houyhnhnm language? I'm learning it, and it is verynice," laughed Miss Celia, as Chevalita gave a little whinny andsnuffled her nose into Ben's pocket.
"No, miss, I never went to school."
"That is not taught there. I'll bring you a book all about it when Icome back. Mr. Gulliver went to the horse-country and heard the dearthings speak their own tongue."
"My father has been on the prairies, where there's lots of wild ones,but he didn't hear 'em speak. I know what they want without talkin',"answered Ben, suspecting a joke, but not exactly seeing what it was.
"I don't doubt it, but I won't forget the book. Good-by, my lad, weshall soon meet again," and away went Miss Celia as if she were in ahurry to get back.
"If she only had a red habit and a streamin' white feather, she'd lookas fine as 'Melia used to. She is 'most as kind and rides 'most as well.Wonder where she's goin' to. Hope she will come soon," thought Ben,watching till the last flutter of the blue habit vanished round thecorner; and then he went back to his work with his head full of thepromised book, pausing now and then to chink the two silver halves andthe new quarter together in his pocket, wondering what he should buywith this vast sum.
Bab and Betty meantime had had a most exciting day; for when they wenthome at noon they found the pretty lady there, and she had talked tothem like an old friend, given them a ride on the little horse, andkissed them both good-by when they went back to school. In the afternoonthe lady was gone, the old house all open, and their mother sweeping,airing, in great spirits. So they had a splendid frolic tumbling onfeather-beds, beating bits of carpet, opening closets, and racing fromgarret to cellar like a pair of distracted kittens.
Here Ben found them, and was at once overwhelmed with a burst of newswhich excited him as much as it did them. Miss Celia owned the house,was coming to liver there, and things were to be made ready as soon aspossible. All thought the prospect a charming one: Mrs. Moss, becauselife had been dull for her during the year she had taken charge of theold house; the little girls had heard rumors of various pets who werecoming; and Ben, learning that a boy and a donkey were among them,resolved that nothing but the arrival of his father should tear him fromthis now deeply interesting spot.
"I'm in such a hurry to see the peacocks and hear them scream. She saidthey did, and that we'd laugh when old Jack brayed," cried Bab, hoppingabout on one foot to work off her impatience.
"Is a faytun a kind of a bird? I heard her say she could keep it in thecoach-house," asked Betty, inquiringly.
"It's a little carriage," and Ben rolled in the grass, much tickled atpoor Betty's ignorance.
"Of course it is. I looked it out in the dic., and you mustn't call ita payton, though it is spelt with a p," added Bab, who liked to lay downthe law on all occasions, and did not mention that she had looked vainlyamong the Vs till a school-mate set her right.
"You can't tell me much about carriages. But what I want to know iswhere Lita will stay?" said Ben.
"Oh, she's to be up at the Squire's till things are fixed, and you areto bring her down. Squire came and told Ma all about it, and said youwere a boy to be trusted, for he had tried you."
Ben made no answer, but secretly thanked his stars that he had notproved himself untrustworthy by running away, and so missing all thisfun.
"Won't it be fine to have the house open all the time? We can run overand see the pictures and books whenever we like. I know we can, MissCelia is so kind," began Betty, who cared for these things more than forscreaming peacocks and comical donkeys.
"Not unless you are invited," answered their mother, locking the frontdoor behind her. "You'd better begin to pick up your duds right away,for she won't want them cluttering round her front yard. If you are nottoo tired, Ben, you might rake round a little while I shut the blinds. Iwant things to look nice and tidy."
Two little groans went up from two afflicted little girls as they lookedabout them at the shady bower, the dear porch, and the winding walkswhere they loved to run "till their hair whistled in the wind," as thefairy-books say.
"Whatever shall we do! Our attic is so hot and the shed so small, andthe yard always full of hens or clothes. We shall have to pack all ourthings away, and never play any more," said Bab, tragically.
"May be Ben could build us a little house in the orchard," proposedBetty, who firmly believed that Ben could do any thing.
"He won't have any time. Boys don't care for baby-houses," returnedBab, collecting her homeless goods and chattels with a dismal face.
"We sha'n't want these much when all the new things come; see if we do,"said cheerful little Betty, who always found out a silver lining toevery cloud.
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