CHAPTER IV.
THE FLIGHT.
NEITHER Gladys nor Snip came into the barn immediately after theirreturn, probably because the former had some report to make as to themessage with which she had been entrusted, and Seth was left alone toturn over in his mind all that Aunt Hannah had said.
A very disagreeable half hour he spent in the conflict between what hebelieved to be his duty and his inclination.
It seemed that all his troubles would be at an end if he might remainin that peaceful place, as the little woman had suggested, and he knewfull well that he could never hope to find as pleasant an abidingplace.
As the matter presented itself to his mind, he was not at liberty toaccept the generous invitation unless the story of why he left NewYork was first told; and once Aunt Hannah was aware that he hadtransgressed the law by passing counterfeit money, it seemed certainshe would look upon him as a sinner too great for pardon.
He believed it was better to go without explanations than be utterlycast off by the little woman whom he was rapidly beginning to love,and, in addition, forfeit her friendship forever. So long as she couldonly guess at the reasons for his flight, she might think of himkindly, and, perhaps, in time, he would be able to prove that he wasworthy of confidence.
"I'll come back when I'm a man, an' then she'll have to believe Ididn't mean to do anything so terrible bad when I passed the leadnickel," he said to himself, in an effort to strengthen the resolutionjust made. "It would be mighty nice to live here, an' what a good timeSnip could have!"
Then he tried to convince himself that his pet should be left behind;but the thought of going away from that charming home--which mighthave been his but for the carelessness in handling the counterfeitmoney--leaving behind the only friend he had known for many a longday, brought the tears to his eyes again.
"I'll have to take the poor little man with me, an' it'll come mightyrough on him!" he said with a sob. "I reckon he thinks this kind offun, when he can chase butterflies 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 waswell, for the boy was rapidly working himself into a most melancholyframe of mind.
She and Snip came tearing into the barn as if there was no other aimin this life than enjoyment, and so startled the sorrowing Seth thathe arose to his feet in something very nearly resembling alarm.
"If you jump like that I shall begin to think you are as nervous asAunt Hannah," she cried with a merry laugh. "She insists that betweenSnip and me there will no longer be any peace for her, unless we soberdown very suddenly; but do you know, Seth, that I've lived here withno other companion than the dear old woman so long, it seems as ifsome 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 theneighborhood, which isn't saying very much, in view of the fact thatthe two Dean boys and Malvinia Stubbs are the only people ofnearabout my age in this section of the country."
"I believe Snip thinks as much of you as you do of him," Seth repliedgloomily. "I never knew him to make friends with any one before; butperhaps that was because he saw only the fellers who liked to teasehim. 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 theair while he gave vent to an imitation growl. "Aunt Hannah and I havearranged it without so much as asking your permission. You two are tolive here; Snip's work is to enjoy himself with me, while you're tomake 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 outthrough the open door, not daring to meet Miss Gladys' startled gaze.
"Wait till you've talked with Aunt Hannah," she exclaimed after thefirst burst of surprise had passed. "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 tostay mighty well, but we can't."
"I'd like to know why"; and now Gladys was on her feet, lookingsternly 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 toa certainty."
"I believe you, but it can't be done." And the boy walked to the otherside of the barn as if to end the conversation.
Gladys looked after him for a moment in mingled surprise andpetulance, and then, taking Snip in her arms, she walked straight intothe house, leaving him seemingly more alone than ever.
During the remainder of the forenoon neither Aunt Hannah, Gladys, norSnip came out of the door, and then the little woman summoned him todinner.
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 tablein obedience to Aunt Hannah's instructions.
This time he half expected she would pray, and was not mistaken. Nothaving been taken by surprise, he heard every word, and his cheekscrimsoned with mingled shame and pleasure as she asked her HeavenlyFather 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 Setheach one was full of a meaning which could not be mistaken, and heknew she was pleading that he might be willing to confess his sins.
Perhaps if the good woman had asked at the conclusion of the prayerwhy he left New York, Seth would have told her everything; but no wordwas spoken on the subject, and by the time dinner had come to an endhe was more firmly convinced than ever that she could not forgive himfor having passed the counterfeit money.
Nothing was said regarding his departure or the proposition that heshould become a member of the household; but Gladys gave the outlinesof a journey she proposed making with Snip that afternoon, and theheavy-hearted boy understood that it was not her purpose to returnuntil nightfall.
Then Aunt Hannah asked if he felt equal to the task of spading up asmall piece of ground behind the barn, where she counted on making agarden, 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 atthe farm during the remainder of that day at least; but there was inhis mind the fact that he must continue his aimless journey that verynight, or be willing to give a detailed account of his wrongdoing.
Immediately after the meal had been brought to a close Seth went outwith 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 thetask with feverish energy, for it seemed to him as if the task must beconcluded before he would be at liberty to leave the farm, and go hemust, because each moment was it becoming more nearly impossible tobring 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 describedwhat must be done in order to make a garden of the unpromising lookingland behind the barn; and he knew that Gladys and Snip would notreturn until time for supper, because the girl had plainly given himto understand as much during the conversation at the dinner-table.
His hands were blistered, and his back ached because of theunaccustomed labor; but the work was completed to the best of hisability before sunset, and then Aunt Hannah found time to inspect theresult of his toil.
"I declare you have done as well as any man I could have hired, an' agood deal better than some!" she exclaimed, and a flush of joyoverspread Seth's face as he arose with difficulty from the grasswhere he had thrown himself for a much-needed rest. "William Deantried to do the same thing, but when he had finished the ground lookedas if it had no more than been teased with a comb. You have turned itup till it is the same as ploughed, an' we'll have a famous garden,even though it is a bit late in the season."
"I'm glad you like it," the
boy replied. "Of course I could do suchwork quicker after I'd tried my hand at it two or three times."
"I didn't expect you'd more than half finish it in one day, an' nowthere's nothing to be done but put in the seeds. We'll see to that inthe morning. I must go after White-Face now, or we shall have a latesupper. Have you seen anything of Gladys?"
"She hasn't been here. Say, why can't I get the cow?"
"I suppose you might, for she's gentle as a kitten; but you must betired."
"I reckon it won't hurt me to walk from here to the pasture." And Sethstarted off at full speed, delighted with the opportunity to performyet more work, for there was in his mind the thought that Aunt Hannahwould think kindly of him after he was gone, if he showed himselfwilling to do whatsoever came in his way.
It did not seem exactly safe to walk deliberately up to that enormousbeast of a cow; but since Gladys had done so he advanced without anygreat show of fear, and was surprised at discovering that shewillingly obeyed the pressure on her horns.
He led her into the cleanly barn, threw some hay into the manger, andthen fastened the chain around her neck, all the while wondering athis own bravery.
"Is there anything more for me to do?" he asked, as Aunt Hannah cameout of the house with the three-legged stool and the glistening tinpail.
"You've earned a rest, my dear," the little woman said cheerily. "Sitdown on the front porch and enjoy the sensation which comes to everyone who has done a good day's work. We poor people can have what richfolks can't, or don't, which amounts to much the same thing."
Seth did not avail himself of this permission; but stood on thethreshold of the "tie-up" watching the little woman force out the bigstreams of milk without apparent effort, until the desire tosuccessfully perform the same task was strong upon him.
"Don't you think I could do that?" he asked timidly.
"I dare say you might, my child; there isn't much of a knack to it."
"Would you be willin' to let me try?"
"Of course you shall," and Aunt Hannah got up quickly from the stool."Be gentle, and you'll have no trouble."
Seth failed at first; but after a few trials he was able to extract athin stream of the foaming fluid, although White-Face did not appearwell pleased with his experiments.
Then Aunt Hannah took the matter in hand, and when she had finishedSeth carried the pail for her, arriving at the kitchen just as Gladysand Snip entered, both seemingly weary with their afternoon's frolic.
Bread, baked that forenoon, and warm milk, made up the evening meal,and again Aunt Hannah prayed for the stranger, much to his secretsatisfaction.
While they were at the table the little woman said, in a low tone ofauthority, such as did not seem suited to her lips:
"You are to stay here until morning, Seth, and then we will haveanother talk. I'm an old-fashioned old maid, an' believe in early tobed an' early to rise, therefore we don't light lamp or candle in thesummer-time, unless some of the neighbors loiter later than usual. Youare to sleep in the room over the kitchen, my boy, and when we havefinished supper I guess you'll be glad to lie down, for spading up apiece of grass land isn't easy work."
Understanding from these remarks that he was expected to retirewithout delay, Seth took Snip in his arms immediately the meal hadcome to a close, and said, as he stood waiting to be shown the way tohis room:
"You've been mighty good to us, Miss--Aunt Hannah, an' I hope we'llhave a chance to pay you back some day."
"You've done that this afternoon," Gladys cried laughingly. "AuntHannah has wanted that garden spot spaded ever since the snow wentaway, and the boys around here were too lazy to do it. All hands,including Snip, will have a share in the planting, and I wouldn't besurprised if we beat our neighbors, even though it is late for suchwork."
Seth would have liked to take leave of these two who had been so kindto him, for he was still determined to leave the house secretly assoon as was possible; but he did not dare say all that was in his mindlest his purpose be betrayed, and followed Aunt Hannah as she led theway to the room above the kitchen.
"You won't forget to say your prayers," she said, kissing himgood-night, an act which brought the tears to his eyes; and Seth shookhis head by way of promise, although never did he remember having donesuch a thing.
After undressing, and when Snip had been provided with a comfortablebed in the cushioned rocking-chair, Seth attempted to do as he hadpromised, and found it an exceedingly difficult task. There was in hisheart both thanksgiving and sorrow, but he could not give words toeither, and after several vain efforts he said reverentially:
"I hope Aunt Hannah will have just as snifty a time in this world asshe deserves, for she's a dandy, if there ever was one!"
Then he crept between the lavender-scented sheets and gave himself upto the pleasure of gazing at his surroundings.
Never before had he seen such a room, so comfort-inviting and cleanly!There were two regular pillows on the bed, and each of them enclosedin a snowy white case which was most pleasing to the cheek, while thefragrant sheets seemed much too fine to be slept on.
Snip was quite as well satisfied with the surroundings as his master.The chair cushion was particularly soft, and he curled himself into alittle ring with a sigh of content which told that if the question ofleaving the Morse farm might be decided by him, he and his masterwould remain there all their lives.
Weary, as Seth was, he found it exceedingly difficult to prevent hiseyes from closing in slumber; yet sleep was a luxury he could notindulge in at that time, lest he should not awaken at an hour when hemight leave the dwelling without arousing the other inmates.
Perhaps it would have been wiser had he not undressed himself; butthe temptation of getting into such a bed as Aunt Hannah had providedfor his benefit was greater than he could withstand, therefore must hebe exceedingly careful not to venture even upon the border ofdreamland.
It is needless to make any attempt at trying to describe Seth'scondition of mind, for it may readily be understood that his grief wasgreat. More than once did he say to himself it would be better to tellAunt Hannah all; but each time he understood, or believed he did, thatby such a course he should not only be cutting himself off from allpossibility of remaining longer at the farm, but would be forfeitingher friendship.
To his mind he would be forced to leave the farm if he told the story,and he could not remain without doing so; therefore it seemed wisestto run away, thus avoiding a most painful scene.
Then came the time when his eyelids rebelled against remaining open;and in order to save himself from falling asleep it seemed necessaryto get out of bed.
Crouching by the window, after having dressed himself, he gazed outover the broad fields that were bathed by the moonlight, and picturedto himself the pleasure of viewing them night after night with theknowledge that they formed a portion of his home. And then, such arevery being almost painful, he nerved himself for what was to be doneby taking Snip in his arms. The dog was sleeping soundly, and Sethwhispered in a voice which was far from being steady:
"It's too bad, old man; but we can't help ourselves. You'll be sorrynot to see Gladys when you wake; but you won't feel half so bad as Ishall, 'cause I know what a slim chance there is of our ever strikin'another place like this."
Then he opened the door softly, still holding Snip in his arms.
Not a sound could be heard; he crept to the head of the stairs andlistened intently.
It was as if he and Snip were the only occupants of the house. Sethhad no very clear idea as to how long he had been in the chamber; butit seemed as if at least two hours had passed since Aunt Hannah badehim good-night, and there was no reason why he should not begin theflight at once.
With his hand on Snip's head as a means of preventing the dog fromgrowling in case any unusual sound was heard, Seth began the descentof the stairs, creeping from one to the other with the utmostcaution, while the boards creaked and groaned under his weight untilit seemed certain both Aunt Hannah and Gla
dys must be aroused.
In trying to move yet more cautiously he staggered against thestair-rail, squeezing Snip until the little fellow yelped sharply; andSeth stood breathlessly awaiting some token that the mistress of thehouse had been alarmed.
He was surprised because of hearing nothing; it appeared strange thatany one could sleep while he was making such a noise, and yet thesilence was as profound as before he began to descend.
Never had he believed a flight of stairs could be so long, and when itseemed as if he should be at the bottom, he had hardly gotten morethan half-way down.
The descent came to an end, however, as must all things in this world,and he groped his way toward the kitchen door, not so much as daringto breathe.
Once he fancied it was possible to distinguish a slight, rustlingsound; but when he stopped all was silent as before, therefore thefugitive went on until his hand was on the kitchen door.
The key was turned noiselessly in the lock; he raised the latch, andthe door swung open with never a creak.
The moonlight flooded that portion of the kitchen where he stoodirresolute, as if even now believing it might be better to confess whyhe had been forced to come away from New York; and as he turned hishead ever so slightly to listen, a sudden fear came upon him.
He saw, not more than half a dozen paces distant, a human formadvancing. A cry of fear burst from his lips, and he would have leapedout of the open door but that a gentle pressure on his shoulderrestrained him.
"Where are you going, my child?" a kindly voice asked; and he knewthat what he had mistaken for an apparition was none other than AuntHannah.
Seth could not speak; his mouth had suddenly become parched, and hisknees trembled beneath him. He had been discovered while seeminglyprowling around the house like a thief, and on the instant he realizedin what way his actions might be misconstrued.
"Where are you going, Seth dear?"
"I wasn't--I had to run away, Aunt Hannah, an' that's the truth ofit!" he cried passionately, suddenly recovering the use of his tongue.
"Why didn't you tell me at supper-time?"
"I was afraid you and Gladys would try to stop me, an' perhaps Icouldn't stick to what I'd agreed on."
"Do you really want to leave us, Seth?"
"Indeed I don't, Aunt Hannah! I'd give anything in this world if Icould stay, for this is the very nicest place I ever was in. Oh,indeed, I don't want to go away!"
"Then why not stay?"
"I can't! I can't, 'cause I'd have to tell----"
Seth did not finish the sentence, but buried his face in Snip's silkyhair.
"Is it because you can't tell me why you left the city?" And thelittle woman laid her hand on the boy's shoulder with a motion notunlike a caress.
Seth nodded, but did not trust himself to speak.
"Then go right back to bed. You shall stay here, my dear, until thetime comes when you can confide in me, and meanwhile I will notbelieve you have been guilty of any wickedness."