CHAPTER III.
AUNT HANNAH.
WITH a broken comb, which he used upon Snip's hair as well as his own,Seth concluded his toilet, and, neither the little woman nor the girlhaving returned to the house, stood in the doorway gazing out upon aspeaceful a scene as a boy pursued by the officers of the law couldwell desire to see.
On either hand ran the dusty road, not unlike a yellow ribbon upon acloth of green, and bordering it here and there were clumps of bushesor groves of pine or of oak, as if planted for the especial purpose ofaffording to the weary traveller a screen from the blinding sun.
The little farmhouse stood upon the height of a slight elevation fromwhich could be had a view of the country round about on either hand;and although so near to the great city, there were no settlements,villages, or towns to be seen.
Surely, the lad said to himself, he had at last arrived at "thecountry," and if all houses were as hospitable-looking, as cleanly,and as inviting in appearance as was this one, then Pip Smith's storyhad in it considerably more than a grain of truth.
"It must be mighty nice to have money enough to live in a place likethis," Seth said to himself. "It would please Snip way down to theground; but I mustn't think of it, 'cause there's no chance for afeller like me to earn a livin' here, an' we can't always count onfolks givin' us what we need to eat."
Then Aunt Hannah came out from the barn, carrying in one hand aglistening tin pail filled with foaming milk, and in the other thethree-legged stool.
Seth ran toward her and held out his hand as if believing she wouldreadily yield at least a portion of her burden; but she shook her headsmiling.
"Bless your heart, my child, I ought to be able to carry one pail ofmilk, seeing that I've done as much or more every day since I wasGladys's age."
"But that's no reason why I shouldn't help along a little to make upfor your not bein' mad 'cause Snip an' me slept in the barn. Besides,I'd like to say to the fellers that I'd carried as much milk as awhole pail full once in my life--that is, if I ever see 'em again," headded with a sigh.
"Then you came from the city?"
"Yes, an' I never got so far out in the country before. Say, it'smighty fine, ain't it?" And as Aunt Hannah relinquished her hold onthe pail, Seth started toward the house without waiting for a reply tohis question.
After placing the stool bottom up by the side of the broad stone whichserved as doorstep, the little woman called to Gladys:
"It's time White-Face was taken to pasture, child."
"Do you mean the cow?" Seth asked.
"Yes, dear."
"Why can't I take her to the pasture; that is, if you'll tell me whereto find it?"
"Unfasten her chain, and she will show you the way. It's only acrossthe road over yonder."
Seth ran quickly to the barn, and having arrived at the doorwaythrough which Aunt Hannah disappeared when she went about the task ofmilking, he halted in surprise and fear, looking at what seemed to himan enormous beast with long, threatening horns, which she shook nowand then in what appeared to be a most vicious fashion.
Only once before had Seth ever seen an animal of this species, andthen it was when he and Pip Smith had travelled over to the Erie Yardsto see a drove of oxen taken from the cars to the abattoir.
It surely seemed very dangerous to turn loose such a huge beast; butSeth was determined to perform whatsoever labor lay in his power, withthe idea that he might not be called upon to pay quite as much forbreakfast, and, summing up all his courage, he advanced toward thecow.
She shook her head restively, impatient for the breakfast of sweetgrass, and he leaped back suddenly, frightened as badly of her as AuntHannah had been of Snip.
Once more he made an attempt, and once more leaped back in alarm, thistime to be greeted with a peal of merry laughter, and a volley ofshrill barks from Snip, who probably fancied Seth stood in need of hisprotection.
"Why did you jump so?" Gladys asked merrily.
Seth's face reddened, and he stammered not a little in reply:
"I reckon that cow would make it kind'er lively for strangers,wouldn't he?"
"And you are really afraid of poor old White-Face? Why, she's asgentle as Snippey, though of course you couldn't pet her so much."
Then Gladys stepped boldly forward, and Snip whined and barked in aperfect spasm of fear at being carried so near the formidable-lookinganimal.
"Now, you are just as foolish as your master," Gladys said with ahearty laugh; but she allowed the dog to slip down from her arms, andas he sought safety behind his master, she unloosened the chain fromthe cow's neck, leading her by the horn out of the barn.
Then it was that Snip plucked up courage to join the girl who had beenso kind to him, and Seth, thoroughly ashamed at having betrayed somuch cowardice, followed his example.
"I want to do something toward paying for my breakfast," he saidhesitatingly; "but I never saw a cow before, and that one acted as ifhe was up to mischief. I s'pose they're a good deal like dogs--allright after a feller gets acquainted with 'em."
"Some cows are ugly, I suppose," Gladys replied reflectively, takingSnip once more in her arms as the little fellow hung back in alarmwhen White-Face stopped to gather a tempting bunch of clover; "butAunt Hannah has had this one ever since she was a calf, and we two aregreat friends. She's a real well-behaved cow, an' never makes anytrouble about going into pasture. There, she's in now, and all we'vegot to do is to put up the bars. By the time we get back breakfastwill be ready. Did you walk all the way from the city?"
There was no necessity for Seth to make a reply, because at thisinstant an audacious wren flew past within a dozen inches of Snip'snose, causing him to spring from the girl's arms in a vain pursuit,which was not ended until the children were at the kitchen door.
The morning meal was prepared, and as Gladys drew out a chair to showSeth where he should sit, Aunt Hannah asked anxiously:
"What does the dog do while you are eating?"
"You'll see how well he can behave himself," Snip's master repliedproudly, as the little fellow laid down on the floor at a respectfuldistance from the table.
Much to Seth's surprise, instead of immediately beginning the meal,the little woman bowed her head reverentially, Gladys following theexample, and for the first time in his life did the boy hear ablessing invoked upon the food of which he was about to partake.
It caused him just a shade of uneasiness and perhaps awe, this"prayin' before breakfast" as he afterward expressed it while goingover the events of the day with Snip, and he did not feel wholly atease until the meal had well nigh come to an end.
Then the little woman gave free rein to her curiosity, by asking:
"Where are you going, my boy?"
"That's what I don't just know," Seth replied, after a short pause."Pip Smith, he said the country was a terrible nice place to live in,an' when Snip an' I had to come away, I thought perhaps we could finda chance to earn some money."
"Haven't you any parents, or a home?" Aunt Hannah asked in surprise.
"I don't s'pose I have. I did live over to Mr. Genet's in Jersey City;but he died, an' I had to hustle for myself."
"Had to what?" Aunt Hannah asked.
"Why, shinny 'round for money enough to pay my way. There ain't muchof anything a feller like me can do but sell papers, an' I don't cutany big ice at that, 'cause I can't get 'round as fast as the otherboys."
"Did you earn enough to provide you with food, and clothes, an' aplace to sleep?"
"Well, sometimes. You see I ain't flashin' up very strong on clothes,an' Snip an' I had a room down to Mother Hyde's that cost us eightycents a week. We could most always get along, except sometimes whenthere was a heavy storm an' trade turned bad."
"I suppose you became discouraged with that way of living?" the littlewoman said reflectively.
"Well, it ain't so awful swell; but then you can't call it so terriblebad. Perhaps some time I could have got money enough to start anews-stand, an' then I'd been all
right, you know."
"Why did you come into the country?"
"You see we had to leave mighty sudden, 'cause----"
Seth checked himself; he had been very near to explaining exactly whyhe left New York so unceremoniously. Perhaps but for the "prayersbefore breakfast" he might have told this kindly faced little womanall his troubles; now, however, he did not care to do so, believingshe would consider he had committed a great crime in passing a leadnickel, even though unwittingly.
Neither was he willing to tell so good a woman an absolute untruth,and therefore held his peace; but the flush which had come into hischeeks was ample proof to his hostess that in his life was somethingwhich caused shame.
Aunt Hannah looked at him for an instant, and then as if realizingthat the scrutiny might cause him uneasiness, turned her eyes away asshe asked in a low tone:
"Do you believe it would be possible for you to find such work in thecountry as would support you and the dog?"
"I don't know anything about it, 'cause you see I never was in thecountry before," Seth replied, decidedly relieved by this change inthe subject of conversation. "Pip Smith thought there was milk an'pies layin' 'round to be picked up by anybody, an' accordin' to histalk it seemed as if a feller might squeak along somehow. If I couldalways have such a bed as I got last night, the rest of it wouldn'ttrouble a great deal."
"But you slept in the barn!" Gladys cried.
"Yes; it was nicer than any room Mother Hyde's got. Don't boys like medo something to earn money out this way?"
"The farmers' sons find employment enough 'round home; but I don'tthink you would be able to earn very much, my boy."
"I might strike something," Seth said reflectively. "At any rate, Snipan' I'll have to keep movin'."
"Then you have no idea where you're going?" And Aunt Hannah appearedto be distressed in mind.
"I wish I did," Seth replied with a sigh, and Gladys said quickly:
"You can't keep walkin' 'round all the time, for what will you do whenit rains?"
"Perhaps I might come across a barn, same's I did last night."
"And grow to be a regular tramp?"
"I wouldn't be one if I was willin' to work, would I? That's all Snipan' me ask for now, is just a chance to earn what we'll eat, an' aplace to sleep."
Aunt Hannah rose from the table quickly in apparently a preoccupiedmanner, and the conversation was thus brought to an abrupt close.
Snip, who had already breakfasted most generously, scrambled to hisfeet for another excursion into the wonderful fields where he mightchase butterflies to his heart's content, and Seth lingered by theopen doorway undecided as to what he should say or do.
Gladys began removing the dishes from the table, Aunt Hannah assistingnow and then listlessly, as if her mind was far away; and after two orthree vain efforts Seth managed to ask:
"How much will I have to pay for breakfast an' sleepin' in the barn?"
"Why, bless your heart, my boy, I wouldn't think of chargin' anythingfor that," the little woman said, almost sharply.
"But we must pay our way, you know, though I ain't got such a dreadfulpile of money. I don't want folks to think we're regular tramps."
"You needn't fear anything of that kind yet a while, but if it wouldmake you feel more comfortable in mind to do something toward payin'for the food which has been freely given, you may try your hand atclearin' up the barn. Gladys an' I aim to keep it cleanly; but even atthe best it doesn't look as I would like to see it."
Seth sat about this task with alacrity, although not knowing exactlywhat ought to be done; but the boy who is willing to work and eager toplease will generally succeed in his efforts, even though he beignorant as to the proper method.
It was while working at that end of the barn nearest the house at atime when Aunt Hannah and Gladys were standing at the open windowwashing the breakfast dishes, that he overheard, without absolutelyintending to do so, a certain conversation not meant for his ears.
It is true he had no right to listen, and also true that the hum ofvoices came to his ears several moments before he paid any attentionwhatsoever, or made an effort to distinguish the words.
Then that which he heard literally forced him to listen for more.
It was Aunt Hannah who said, evidently in reply to a suggestion fromGladys:
"It is a pity and a shame to see a child like that poor little lameboy wandering about the country trying to find work, when he isn'tfitted for anything of the kind. But how could we give him a homehere, my dear?"
"I am sure it wouldn't cost you anything, Aunt Hannah. With threespare rooms in the house and hardly ever a visitor to use one of them,why couldn't he have a bed here?"
"He can, my dear, and it's my duty to give him a home, as I seeplainly; but you can't imagine what a cross it will be for me to havea boy and a dog around the old place. I have lived here alone so manyyears, except after you came, that a new face, even though it be afriendly one, disturbs me."
"Surely you'd get used to him in a few days, and he's a boy who triesto do all he can in the way of helping."
"I believe so, my dear, and, therefore, because it seems to be myduty, I'm goin' to ask him to stay, at least until he can find abetter home; but at the same time I hold that it will be a dreadfulcross for me to bear."
Seth suddenly became aware that he was playing the part of a sneak bythus listening; and although eager to hear more, turned quickly away,busying himself at the opposite side of the barn, where it would notbe possible to play the eavesdropper in even so slight a degree.
Until now it had never come into his mind that this little woman,whose home was so exceedingly inviting, might give him an opportunityto remain, even for the space of twenty-four hours; but as it was thussuggested, he realized how happy both he and Snip would be in such aplace, and believed he could ask for nothing more in this world if itshould be his good fortune to have an opportunity to stay.
There was little probability the officers of the law would find himhere, however rigorously the search might be continued, and it seemedas if every day spent in such a household must be filled withunalloyed pleasure.
He stopped suddenly in his work as the thought came that it hadalready been decided he should have an invitation to remain, and agreat joy came into his heart just for an instant, after which heforced it back resolutely, saying to himself:
"A feller who would bother a good woman like Aunt Hannah deserves tobe kicked. She's made up her mind to give me a chance jest 'cause shethinks it's something that ought'er be done; but I ain't goin' to playmean with her. It's lucky I happened to hear what was said, else I'dhave jumped at the chance of stayin' when she told me I might."
At that moment Snip came into the barn eager to be petted by hismaster, and wearied with the fruitless chase after foolish andannoying birds.
"It's tough on you, little man, 'cause a home like this is jest whatyou've been achin' for, an' they'd be awful good to you," Sethwhispered as he took the dog in his arms. "How would it be if I shouldsneak off an' leave you with 'em? I ought'er do it, Snippey dear; butit would most break my heart to give up the only family I've got. An'that's where I'm mighty mean! You'd have a great time here, an' bystickin' to me there ain't much show for fun, unless things take aterribly sudden turn."
Snip licked his master's chin by way of reply, and Seth pressed thelittle fellow yet more closely, saying with what was very like a sob:
"I can't do it, little man, I can't do it! You must stick to me, elseI'll be the lonesomest feller in all the world. We'll hold on here aspell, an' then hustle once more. It must be we'll find somebodywho'll give us work, providin' the detectives don't nab me."
Then he turned his attention once more to the task set him by AuntHannah, and Snip sat on the threshold of the door watching his masterand snapping at the impudent sparrows, until Gladys came out with aninvitation for the dog to escort her to a neighbor's house, where shewas forced to go with a message.
"I'll take good care o
f him," she called to Seth, as Snip ran onjoyously in advance, "and bring him back before you finish sweepingthe barn."
"I'm not afraid of his comin' to any harm while you keep an eye onhim; but I believe he's beginnin' to like you almost better'n he doesme," Seth replied, with a shade of sorrow in his tone, whereat Gladyslaughed merrily.
Then the boy continued his work with a will, and ample evidence of hislabor was apparent when Aunt Hannah came out, looking very much likethe fairy godmothers of "once upon a time" stories, despite thewrinkles on her placid face.
"It looks very neat," she said approvingly. "I never would havebelieved a boy could be so handy with a broom! Last spring I hiredWilliam Dean, the son of a neighbor, to tidy up the barn and the yard;but it looked worse when he had finished than before."
"Have I earned the breakfast Snip and I ate?" Seth asked, pleased withher praise.
"Indeed you have, child, although there was no reason for doinganything of the kind. When we share with those who are less fortunate,we are doing no more than our duty, an' I don't like to think that youfeel it necessary to pay for a mouthful of food."
"It was the very nicest breakfast I ever had, Miss--Miss----"
"You may call me 'Aunt Hannah,' for I'm an aunt to all the children inthe neighborhood, accordin' to their way of thinking. Would you becontented to stay here for a while, my dear?"
"Indeed I would!" was the emphatic reply, and then Seth added,remembering the conversation he had overheard: "That is, I would if Icould; but Snip an' me have got to hunt for a chance to earn ourlivin', an' it won't do to think of loafin' here, even though it issuch a fine place."
Aunt Hannah smiled kindly and said, with a certain show ofdetermination, as if forcing herself to an unwelcome decision:
"You an' the little dog shall stay for a while, my boy, and perhapsyou can find some kind of work nearabout; but if not, surely it won'tincrease my cost of living, for we'll have a garden, which is whatI'm not able to attend to now I've grown so old. Why did you leave thecity, my child?"
Had it not been for that "praying before breakfast" Seth would haveinvented some excuse for his flight; but now he could not bringhimself, as he gazed into the kindly eyes, either to utter adeliberate falsehood or to make an equivocal reply.
"I'd like to tell you," he said hesitatingly, after a long pause,during which Aunt Hannah looked out across the meadow rather than athim. "I'd like to tell you, but I can't," he repeated.
"I don't believe you are a bad boy, Seth," she said mildly, butwithout glancing toward him.
The lad remained silent with downcast eyes, and when it seemed to himas if many minutes had passed, the little woman added:
"Perhaps you will tell me after we are better acquainted. Gladysdeclares, an' I've come quite to her way of thinking, that you shouldremain with us for a time. I don't believe you could find work such aswould pay for your board and lodging, unless it was with an old womanlike me, and so we're to consider you and Snip as members of thefamily."
Seth shook his head, feebly at first, for the temptation to accept theinvitation was very great, and then decidedly, as if the decision hehad arrived at could not be changed.
"Would you rather go away?" Aunt Hannah asked in surprise.
"No, I wouldn't!" Seth cried passionately, the tears comingdangerously near his eyelids. "I'd do anything in this world for thesake of havin' such a home as this; but all the same, Snip an' I can'tstay to bother you. We'll leave when he comes back."
"Listen to me, my child," and now the little woman spoke with a degreeof firmness which sounded strangely from one so mild, "you are not togo away this day, no matter what may be done later. We will talk aboutmy plan after dinner, and then perhaps you'll feel like explaining whyyou think it necessary to go further in search of work after I havegiven you a chance to earn what you and the dog may need."
Then Gladys' voice was heard in the distance as she urged Snip on inhis pursuit of a butterfly, and Aunt Hannah went quickly into thedwelling, leaving Seth gazing after her wistfully as he muttered:
"I never believed there was such a good woman in this world!"