CHAPTER V.
AN ACCIDENT.
FILLED with shame and confusion, Seth made no resistance when AuntHannah ordered him back to bed; but obeyed silently, moving stealthilyas when he began the flight. He was trembling as with a sudden chillwhen he undressed and laid himself down, while Snip lost no time incurling his tiny body into a good imitation of a ball, wondering,perhaps, why he had thus been needlessly disturbed in his "beautysleep."
Seth was no longer capable of speculating upon the problem in which hehad been involved through a lead nickel and an advertisement in thenewspapers. He could only realize that Aunt Hannah had good reason tobelieve him a thief, or worse, otherwise she would not have beenwaiting to discover if he attempted to prowl around the house whileshe was supposed to be asleep, and his cheeks burned with shame at thethought.
He wished that the night might never come to an end, and then hewould not be forced to meet her face to face, as he must when the sunrose.
"Of course she'll tell Gladys where she found me, an' both of 'em willbelieve I'm the worst feller that ever lived!" he whispered tohimself; and then tears, bitter and scalding, flowed down his cheeks,moistening the spotless linen, but bringing some slight degree ofcomfort, because sleep quickly followed in their train.
Seth was awakened next morning by Aunt Hannah's voice, as she calledgently:
"It's time to get up, my dear. The sun is out looking for boys an'dogs, an' you mustn't disappoint him."
Snip ran eagerly down the stairs as if to greet some one for whom hehad a great affection, and Seth heard the little woman say to him:
"I really believe Gladys was in the right when she said I would cometo like you almost as much as if you were a cat. Do you want a saucerof milk?"
"She won't talk so pleasantly when I get there," Seth said to himself."I'd rather take a sound flogging than have her look at me as if I wasa thief!"
The lad soon came to know Aunt Hannah better than to accuse her ofbeing cruel even in the slightest degree.
When he entered the kitchen she greeted him with a kindly smile, andsaid, much as if the events of the previous night were no more than adisagreeable dream:
"You see I'm beginning to depend on you already, Seth. Gladys isn't upyet, and I've left White-Face in the barn thinkin' you'd take her tothe pasture. The grass is wet with dew, an' I'm gettin' so old that Idon't dare take the chances of wetting my feet."
Seth did not wait to make his toilet, but ran swiftly to the barn,rejoicing because of the opportunity to perform some task.
When the cow had been cared for he loitered around outside, picking upa stick here and a stone there as if it was of the highest importancethat the lawn in front of the house be freed from litter of every kindbefore breakfast.
His one desire was to avoid coming face to face with Aunt Hannah untilit should be absolutely necessary, and while he was thus inventingwork Gladys came out in search of Snip.
Seth understood at once that the girl was yet ignorant of his attemptto run away, and his heart swelled with gratitude toward the littlewoman who had thus far kept secret what he would have been ashamed totell.
Just then Snip was of far more importance in the eyes of Aunt Hannah'sniece than was his master, and after a hasty "good-morning" she ranaway with the dog at her heels for the accustomed exercise beforebreakfast.
"Come in an' wash your face, my dear. Breakfast will be cooked by thetime you are ready to eat it, and such work as you are doing may aswell be left until a more convenient season."
Seth felt forced to obey this summons promptly; but he did not daremeet the little woman's glance. Had he observed her closely, however,it would have been seen that she studiously avoided looking towardhim. Aunt Hannah was averse to causing pain, even to the brutes whichcame in her way, and at this particular time she understood very muchof what was in the boy's mind.
Seth feared lest in the "prayer before breakfast" some reference mightbe made to what he had attempted to do during the night; but his fearswere groundless. The little woman asked that her Father's blessingmight fall upon the homeless; but the words were spoken in the samefervent, kindly tone as on the evening previous, and again the boythanked her in his heart.
When the morning meal had come to an end Gladys was eager Seth shouldjoin her and Snip on an excursion through the grove where squirrelswere said to be "thick as peas," and under almost any othercircumstances the guest would have been delighted to accept theinvitation; but now he insisted that there was very much work to bedone before nightfall, which would force him to remain near the house.
"We've only to plant the garden," Aunt Hannah interrupted, "an' thenthere's no reason why you shouldn't enjoy a stroll among the trees."
Seth remained silent, but determined to do all in his power to atonefor what seemed to him very nearly a crime, and Gladys decided thatshe must also take part in the sowing of the seeds.
Until noon the three, with Snip as a most interested spectator, workedindustriously, and then, as Aunt Hannah said, "there was nothing to bedone save wait patiently until the sun and the rain had performedtheir portion of the task."
Seth did not join Gladys and Snip in their afternoon romp, butcontinued at his self-imposed tasks until night had come, doing quiteas much work with his mind as his hands. Twenty times over he resolvedto tell the little woman exactly why he was forced to run away fromNew York, and as often decided he could not confess himself such acriminal as it seemed certain, because of the advertisement, he reallywas.
"I couldn't stand it to have her look at me after she kneweverything," he repeated again and again.
There was no idea in his mind as to how the matter might end, savewhen now and then he had the faintest of faint hopes that perhaps shemight forget, or learn the truth from some one other than himself.
During three days he struggled between what he knew to be duty and hisown inclination, and in all that time the little woman never showed byword or look that there was any disagreeable secret between them.
Seth tried to ease his conscience by working most industriously duringevery moment of daylight, and then came the time when it wasabsolutely impossible to find anything more for his hands to do. Hehad swept the barn floor until it was as clean as a broom could makeit; the wood in the shed had been piled methodically; a goodly supplyof kindlings were prepared, and not so much as a pebble was to be seenon the velvety lawn.
Gladys had tried in vain to entice him away from what she declared wasuseless labor, and Snip did all within the power of a dog to coax hismaster into joining him in the jolly strolls among the trees or acrossthe green fields, and yet Seth remained nearabout the little house ina feverish search for something with which to employ his hands.
"It's no use, Snippey dear," he said on the fourth night of his stayat the farm, after the family had retired, "I can't stay an' not tellAunt Hannah, an' it's certain we won't be allowed to stop more'n aminute after she knows the truth. If I could talk to her in the dark,when I couldn't see her face, it wouldn't seem quite so bad; but we goto bed so early there's no chance for that. We must have it out mightysoon, for I can't hang 'round here many hours longer without tellin'all about ourselves."
He was not ready for bed, although an hour had passed since he badeAunt Hannah and Gladys good-night.
The moon had gilded the rail fence, the shed, and the barn until theywere transformed into fairy handiwork; the road gleamed like gold withan enamel of black marking the position of trees and bushes, and Sethhad gazed upon the wondrous picture without really being aware oftime's flight.
Having repeated to Snip that which was in his mind, the boy was on thepoint of making himself ready for a visit from the dream elves when heheard, apparently from the room below, what sounded like a fall, asmothered exclamation, and the splintering of glass.
Only for a single instant did he stand motionless, and then, realizingthat some accident must have happened, he ran downstairs, Snipfollowing close behind, barking shrilly.
On
ce in the kitchen an exclamation of terror burst from his lips.
The room was illumined by a line of fire, seemingly extending entirelyacross the floor, which was fringed by a dense smoke that rose nearlyto the ceiling, and, beside the table, where she had evidently fallen,lay Aunt Hannah, struggling to smother with bare hands the yellow,dancing flames that had fastened upon her clothing.
It needed not the fragments of glass and brass to tell Seth that thelittle woman had accidentally fallen, breaking the lamp she carried,and that the fire was fed by oil.
Like a flash there came into his mind the memory of that night whenDud Wilson overturned a lamp on the floor of his news-stand, and hehad heard it said then that the property might have been saved if theboys had smothered the flames with their coats, or any fabric ofwoollen, instead of trying to drown it out with water.
He pulled off his coat in a twinkling, threw it over the prostratewoman, and added to the covering rag rugs from the floor, pressingthem down firmly as he said, in a trembling voice, much as thoughspeaking to a child:
"Don't get scared! We can't put the fire out with water; but I'll soonsmother it."
"You needn't bother about me, my child; but attend to the house! Itwould be dreadful if we should lose the dear old home!"
"I'll get the best of this business in a jiffy; but it won't do togive you a chance of bein' burned."
"There is no fire here now." And Aunt Hannah threw back the rugs,despite Seth's hold upon them, to show that the flames were reallyquenched. "For mercy's sake, save the house! It's the only home I everknew, an' my heart would be wellnigh broken if I lost it!"
Before she had ceased speaking Seth was flinging rug after rug on theburning oil, for Aunt Hannah, like many another woman living in thecountry, had an ample supply of such floor coverings.
Not until he had entirely covered that line of flame, and had dancedto and fro over the rugs to stamp out the last spark of fire, did heventure to open the outside door, and it was high time, for thepungent smoke filled the kitchen until it was exceedingly difficult tobreathe.
The little woman remained upon the floor where Seth had first foundher, and it was only after the night breeze was blowing through theroom, carrying off the stifling vapor, that the boy had time to wonderwhy she made no effort to rise.
"Are you hurt?" he cried anxiously, running to her side.
"Never mind me until the fire is out."
"There is no more fire, an' I'm bound to mind you! Are you hurt?"
"It doesn't seem possible, my dear, an' yet I can't use either ankleor wrist. Of course the bones are not broken; but old people like medon't fall harmlessly as do children."
Seth was more alarmed now than when he saw the flames of the burningoil threatening the destruction of the building, and he dumblywondered why Gladys did not make her appearance.
The first excitement was over, and now he had time in which to befrightened.
"What can I do? Oh, what can I do?" he cried, running to and fro, andthen, hardly aware of his movements, he shouted loudly for Gladys.
"Don't waken her!" Aunt Hannah cried warningly. "If you can't help methere is nothing she can do."
"Ain't she in the house?" Seth asked nervously.
He feared Aunt Hannah might die, and even though she was in no realdanger, to stand idly by not knowing how to aid her was terrible.
He failed to observe that Snip was no longer in the room; but just atthat moment his shrill barking was heard in an adjoining apartment,and Seth knew the dog had gone to find his little playmate.
"You mustn't get frightened after the danger is all over, my dear,"Aunt Hannah said soothingly. "But for you the house would have beendestroyed, and now we have nothing to fear."
"But you can't get up!" Seth wailed.
"That wouldn't be a great misfortune compared with losing our home,even if I never got up again," the little woman said quietly. "But I'mnot going to lie here. Surely you can help me on to the couch."
"Tell me how to do it," Seth cried eagerly, and at that moment Gladysappeared in the doorway.
"Lean over so that I may put my arms around your neck," Aunt Hannahsaid, giving no heed to the girl's cry of alarm.
"She fell an' hurt herself," Seth said hurriedly to Gladys, as heobeyed the little woman's injunction. And then, as the latter put heruninjured arm over his neck, he tried to aid the movement by claspingher waist.
"If you can help me just a little bit we'll soon have her on thecouch," he cried to Gladys, who by this time was standing at his side.
Aunt Hannah was a tiny woman, and the children, small though theywere, did not find it an exceedingly difficult task to raise herbodily from the floor.
Then Gladys lighted a lamp, and it was seen that, in addition to theinjuries received by the fall, Aunt Hannah had been grievously burned.
"Yes, I'm in some pain," she said in reply to Seth's anxiousquestioning; "but now that the house has been saved I have no right tocomplain. Get some flour, Gladys, and while you are putting it on theworst of the burns, perhaps Seth will run over to Mrs. Dean an' ask ifshe can come here a few minutes."
"Where does Mis' Dean live?" the lad asked hurriedly, starting towardthe door; and he was already outside when Gladys replied:
"It's the first house past the grove where Snip and I went thisafternoon!"
Seth gave no heed to his lameness as he ran at full speed down theroad; the thought that now was the time when he might in some slightdegree repay Aunt Hannah for having given shelter to him and Snip,lending speed to his feet.
The Dean family had not yet retired when he arrived at the farmhouse,and, stopping only sufficiently long to tell in fewest possible wordsof what had happened, Seth ran back to help Gladys care for theinvalid, for he was feverishly eager to have some part in the nursing.
Aunt Hannah was on the couch with her wounds partially bandaged whenthe boy returned, and although her suffering must have been severe,that placid face was as serene as when he bade her good-night.
"Mis' Dean is comin' right away. What can I do?"
"Nothing more, my dear," the little woman replied quietly. "You havebeen of such great service to me this night that I can never repayyou."
"Please don't say that, Aunt Hannah," Seth cried, his face flushingwith shame as he remembered the past. "If I could only do somethin'real big, then perhaps you wouldn't think I was so awful bad."
"I believe you to be a good boy, Seth, and shall until you tell me tothe contrary. Even then," she added with a smile, "I fancy it will bepossible to find a reasonable excuse."
The arrival of Mrs. Dean put an end to any further conversation, andSeth was called upon to aid in carrying Aunt Hannah to the foreroom,in which was the best bed, although the little woman protestedagainst anything of the kind.
"I am as well off in my own bed, Sarah Dean. Don't treat me as if Iwas a child who didn't know what was best."
"You are goin' into the foreroom, Hannah Morse, an' that's all thereis about it. That bed hasn't been used since the year your brotherBenjamin was at home, an' I've always said that if anything happenedto you, an' I had charge of affairs, you should get some comfort outof the feathers you earned pickin' berries. We'll take her into theforeroom, boy, for it's the most cheerful, an' she deserves the bestthat's goin'."
"You can bet she does!" Seth exclaimed with great emphasis; and thenhe gave all his attention to obeying the many commands which issuedfrom Mrs. Dean's mouth.
When the little woman had been disposed of according to her neighbor'sideas of comfort, Seth was directed to build a fire in the kitchenstove; Gladys received instructions to bring all the old linen to befound; and Snip was ordered into the shed.
Aunt Hannah protested vehemently against this last order, with theresult that the dog was banished to Gladys' chamber, and then Mrs.Dean proceeded to attend to the invalid without giving her a voice inany matter, however nearly it might concern herself.
Seth took up his station in the kitchen when other neighbor
s arrived,summoned most likely by Mr. Dean, and here Gladys joined him afterwhat had seemed to the boy a very long time.
"How is she?" he asked when the girl came softly into the room as ifthinking he might be asleep.
"Her hands and arms are burned very badly. Why, Seth, there areblisters as big as my hand, and Mrs. Dean says she suffers terribly;but the dear old woman hasn't made the least little complaint."
"That's 'cause she's so good. If I was like her I needn't bother myhead 'bout what was goin' to happen after I died. It would be a funnykind of an angel who wasn't glad to see Aunt Hannah!"
"She'd have burned to death but for you."
"That ain't so, Gladys. I didn't do very much, 'cept throw the rugsan' my coat over her."
"She's just been telling Mrs. Dean that you saved her life, and thehouse."
"Did she really?" Seth cried excitedly. "Did she say it in them verysame words?"
"Aunt Hannah made it sound a good deal better than I can. She said Godsent you to this house to help her in the time of trouble, an' she'sgoin' to see that you always have a home here."
"Wasn't she kind'er out of her head?" Seth asked quickly. "I've heardMother Hyde say that folks got crazy-like when they ached pretty bad."
"Aunt Hannah knew every word she was saying, and it's true that shemight have burned to death if you hadn't been in the house, for Inever heard a thing till Snippey came into my room barking."
"I hope I did do as much; but it don't seem jest true."
"Don't you think the house would have burned if some one hadn't putout the fire very quickly?"
"Perhaps so, 'cause the flames jumped up mighty high."
"And since she couldn't move, wouldn't she have been burned to death?"
"I hope so."
"Why, Seth Barrows, how wicked you are!"
"No, no, Gladys, I didn't mean I hoped she'd have burned to death; butI hoped I really an' truly saved her life, 'cause then she won't jumpdown on me so hard when I tell her."
"Tell her what?"
"Why Snip an' I had to run away from New York."
"Is it something you're ashamed of?" Gladys asked quickly and insurprise.
Seth nodded, while the flush of shame crept up into his cheeks.
Gladys gazed at him earnestly while one might have counted ten, andthen said, speaking slowly and distinctly:
"I don't believe it. Aunt Hannah says you're the best boy she eversaw; an' she knows."
"Did Aunt Hannah tell you that, or are you tryin' to stuff me?" AndSeth rose to his feet excitedly.
"I hope you don't think I'd tell a lie?"
"Of course I don't, Gladys; but if you only knew how much it means tome--Aunt Hannah's sayin' what you claim she did--there wouldn't be anywonder I had hard work to believe it."
"She said to me those very same words----"
"What ones?"
"That you was the best boy she ever saw, an' it was only yesterdayafternoon, when you were splitting kindling wood, that she said it."
Then, suddenly, to Gladys' intense surprise, Seth dropped his head onhis arm and burst into a flood of tears.
CHAPTER VI.
SUNSHINE.
MRS. DEAN had taken entire charge of the invalid and the house, and somany of the neighbors insisted on aiding her that Gladys and Seth werepushed aside as if they had been strangers.
At midnight, when one of the volunteer nurses announced that AuntHannah was resting as comfortably as could be expected under thecircumstances, Gladys, in obedience to Mrs. Dean's peremptory command,went to bed; but Seth positively refused to leave the kitchen.
"Somethin' that I could do might turn up, an' I count on bein' readyfor it," he said when the neighbor urged him to lie down. "Snip an'I'll stay here; an' if we get sleepy, what's to hinder our takin' anap on the couch?"
So eager was the boy for an opportunity to serve Aunt Hannah that heresolutely kept his eyes open during the remainder of the night lestthe volunteer nurses should fail to waken him if his services wereneeded; and to accomplish this he made frequent excursions out ofdoors, where the wind swept the "sand" from his eyes.
With the first light of dawn he set about effacing so far as might bepossible all traces of fire from the kitchen, and was washing thefloor when Mrs. Dean came out from the foreroom.
"Well, I do declare!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Hannah Morse saidyou was a handy boy 'round the house, but this is a little more'n Iexpected. I wish my William could take a few lessons from you."
"I didn't count on gettin' the floor very clean," Seth repliedmodestly, but secretly delighted with the unequivocal praise. "If theoil and smut is taken off it'll be easier to put things into shape."
"You're doin' wonderfully, my boy, an' when I tell Hannah Morse,she'll be pleased, 'cause a speck of dirt anywhere about the housedoes fret her mortally bad."
Seth did not venture to look up lest Mrs. Dean should see the joy inhis eyes, for to his mind the good woman could do him no greaterservice than give the invalid an account of his desire to be useful inthe household.
"Is Aunt Hannah burned very much?" he asked, as the nurse set aboutmaking herself a cup of tea.
"I allow it'll be a full month before she gets around again. At firstI was afraid she'd broken some bones; but Mrs. Stubbs declares it'sonly a bad sprain. It seems that she had a headache, an' came for thecamphor bottle, when she slipped an' fell against the table. Thewonder to me is that this house wasn't burned to the ground."
Then Mrs. Dean questioned Seth as to himself, and his reasons forcoming into the country in search of work; but the boy did notconsider it necessary to give any more information than pleased him,although the good woman was most searching in her inquiries.
Then Gladys entered the kitchen, and the two children madepreparations for breakfast, after Seth had brought to an end hisself-imposed task of washing the floor.
Mr. Dean came over to milk White-Face, and Seth insisted that he beallowed to try his hand at the work, claiming that if Aunt Hannah wasto be a helpless invalid during a full month, as Mrs. Dean hadpredicted, it was absolutely necessary he be able to care for thecow.
The old adage that "a willing pupil is an apt one" was verified inthis case, for the lad succeeded so well in his efforts that Mr. Deandeclared it would not be necessary for him to come to the Morse farmagain, so far as caring for the cow was concerned.
Very proud was Seth when he brought the pail of foaming milk into thekitchen with the announcement that he had done nearly all the work,and Gladys ran to tell Aunt Hannah what she considered exceedinglygood news.
During the next two days either Mrs. Dean or Mrs. Stubbs ruled overthe Morse household by virtue of their supposed rights as nurses, andin all this time Seth had not been allowed to see the invalid.
Gladys visited the foreroom from time to time, reporting that AuntHannah was "doing as well as could be expected," and Seth had reasonto believe the little woman's suffering would now abate unless someunexpected change in her condition prevented.
The neighbors sent newspapers and books for Gladys to read to her auntduring such moments as she was able to listen, and while the girl wasthus employed Seth busied himself in the kitchen, taking great pridein keeping every article neat and cleanly, as Aunt Hannah herselfwould have done.
Then came the hour which the boy had been looking forward to withmingled hope and fear. He had fully decided to tell all his story tothe little woman who had been so kind to him, and was resolved thatthe unpleasant task should be accomplished at the earliestopportunity.
It was nearly noon; the good neighbors were at their own homes for abrief visit, and Gladys came from the foreroom, where she had beenreading the daily paper aloud, saying to Seth:
"Aunt Hannah thinks I ought to run out of doors a little while becauseI have stayed in the house so long. There isn't the least bit of need;but I must go, else she'll worry herself sick. She says you can sitwith her, an' I'll take Snippey with me, for he's needing fresh airmore than I am."
Just for a moment Seth hesitated; the time had come when he must, ifever, carry his good resolutions into effect, and there was littledoubt in his mind but that Aunt Hannah would insist upon his leavingthe farm without delay once she knew all his wickedness.
Gladys did not give him very much time for reflection. With Snip ather heels she hurried down the road, and Seth knew he must not leavethe invalid alone many moments.
Aunt Hannah's eyes were open when he entered the foreroom, and but forthat fact he might almost have believed she was dead, so pale was herface. The bandaged hands were outside the coverings, and Seth had beentold that she could not move them unaided, except at the cost of mostsevere pain.
"I knew you would be forced to come when Gladys went out, and that waswhy I sent her. We two--you an' I--need to have a quiet chat together,and there is little opportunity unless we are alone in the house."
Seth's face was flushed crimson; he believed Aunt Hannah had come tothe conclusion that he must not be allowed to remain at the farm anylonger unless he confessed why it had been necessary to leave NewYork, and his one desire was to speak before she should be able tomake a demand.
"I ought'er----"
He stammered and stopped, unable to begin exactly as he desired, andthe little woman said quietly, but in a tone which told that thewords came from her heart:
"You have saved the old home, an' my life as well, Seth. Even if I hadhesitated at making you one of the family, I could not do so now,after owing you so much."
"Don't talk like that, Aunt Hannah! Don't tell 'bout what you owe me!"Seth cried tearfully. "It's the other way, an' Snip an' I are mightylucky, if for no other reason than that we've seen you. Wait aminute," he pleaded as the invalid was about to speak. "Ever since yougot hurt I've wanted to tell everything you asked the other day, an' Ipromised Snip an' myself that I'd do it the very first chance. Ifit----"
"There is no need of your tellin' me, my child, unless you reallythink it necessary. I have no doubts as to your honesty, and trulyhope that your wanderings are over."
"We shall have to go; but I'm bound to tell the truth now, 'cause Iknow you think I was tryin' to steal somethin' when we were only goin'to run away so's you wouldn't know what I've done."
"My dear boy," and Aunt Hannah vainly tried to raise her head, "Inever thought for a single minute that you came downstairs for anyother purpose than to leave the house secretly."
"An' that's jest the truth. Now don't say a word till I've told youall about it, an' please not look at me."
Then, speaking hurriedly lest she should interrupt him in what was anexceedingly difficult task, Seth told of the advertisement, of thecounterfeit money he had unwittingly passed, and of his flight, aidedby Teddy and Tim.
"I didn't mean to do it," he concluded, amid his sobs; "but I reckonI'd tried to get rid of it some time, 'cause I couldn't afford to loseso much money. Of course they'll put me in jail, if the detectivescatch me, an' if I should be locked up for ever so many years, won'tyou let Gladys take care of poor little Snippey?"
"Come here an' kiss me, Seth," Aunt Hannah said softly. "I wish Icould put my hand on your head! And you've been frightened out of yourwits because of that counterfeit nickel?" she added when he hadobeyed. "You poor little child! If you had told me, your troubleswould soon have come to an end; but you must understand that in thisworld the only honest course is to atone for your faults, rather thanrun away from them. The good Book says that 'your sins shall find youout,' and it is true, my dear, as true as is every word that has cometo us from God. But I'm not allowin' that you have committed anygrievous sin in this matter. Do you know, Gladys read your story inthe paper before I sent her for a walk, and that is why I wanted to bealone with you."
Seth looked up in surprise which was almost bewilderment, and AuntHannah continued with a bright smile that was like unto the sunshineafter a shower:
"Take up the newspaper lying on the table. I told Gladys to fold it soyou might find the article I wanted you to read."
Seth did as she directed, but without glancing at the printed sheet.
"Can you read, dear?"
"Not very well, 'cause I have to spell out the big words."
"Hold it before my eyes while I make the attempt. There isn't verymuch of a story; but it will mean a great deal to you, I hope."
Seth was wholly at a loss to understand the little woman's meaning;but he did as she directed, and listened without any great show ofenthusiasm to the following:
Messrs. Symonds & Symonds, the well-known attorneys of Pine Street, are willing to confess that they are not well informed regarding the character of the average newsboy of this city, and by such ignorance have defeated their own ends. Several days ago the gentlemen were notified by a professional brother in San Francisco that a client of his, lately deceased, had bequeathed to one Seth Barrows the sum of five thousand dollars. All the information that could be given concerning the heir was that he had been living with a certain family in Jersey City, and was now believed to be selling newspapers in this city. His age was stated as about eleven years, and he owed his good fortune to the fact that the dead man was his uncle.
"It is not a simple matter to find any particular street merchant in New York City; but Messrs. Symonds & Symonds began their search by advertising in the newspapers for the lad. As has been since learned, the friends of the young heir saw the notice which had been inserted by the attorneys, and straightway believed the lad was wanted because of some crime committed. The boy himself must have had a guilty conscience, for he fled without delay, carrying with him into exile a small white terrier, his only worldly possession. The moral of this incident is, that when you want to find a boy of the streets, be careful to state exactly why you desire to see him, otherwise the game may give you the slip rather than take chances of being brought face to face with the officers of the law."
It was not until Aunt Hannah had concluded that Seth appeared tounderstand he was the boy referred to, and then he asked excitedly:
"Do you suppose the Seth Barrows told about there can be me?"
"Of course, my dear. Isn't this your story just as you have repeatedit to me?"
"But there isn't anybody who'd leave me so much money as that, AuntHannah! There's a big mistake somewhere."
"Do you remember of ever hearing that you had an uncle in California?"
"Indeed I don't. I thought Snip was all the relation I had in theworld."
"Why did the man in Jersey City allow you to live with him?"
"I don't know. I had pretty good clothes then, an' didn't have towork, 'cause I was too small."
"Well," the little woman said with a sigh, as if the exertion oftalking had wearied her, "I don't pretend to be able to straighten outthe snarl; but I'm certain you are the boy spoken of in the newspaperstory, for it isn't reasonable to suppose that two lads of the sameage have lately run away from New York because of an advertisement.The money must be yours, my dear, and instead of being a homelesswanderer, you're quite a wealthy gentleman."
"I wouldn't take the chances of goin' to see about it," Seth saidthoughtfully, "'cause what we've read may be only a trap to catch me."
"Now, don't be too suspicious, my dear. I'm not countin' on your goinginto that wicked city just yet. I've sent for Nathan Dean, an' you maybe sure he'll get at the bottom of the matter, for he's a master handat such work."
Then Mrs. Dean entered to take up her duties of nurse once more, andSeth went into the barn, where he could be alone to think over thestrange turn which his affairs appeared to be taking.
Gladys joined him half an hour later, and asked abruptly:
"What did Aunt Hannah say to you?"
"Why do you think she counted on talkin' to me?"
"Because I read that story in the newspaper. Then she wanted me to goout for a walk, and said I'd better ask Mr. Dean to come over thisafternoon. I couldn't help knowing it was about you; but didn'
t sayanything to her because Mrs. Dean thinks she oughtn't to be excited.Did you tell her why you and Snippey ran away?"
"Of course I did, an' was countin' on doin' that same thing the firstchance I had to speak with her alone, though I made sure she'd send meaway."
Then Seth repeated that which he had told Aunt Hannah, and while hewas thus engaged Mr. Dean entered the house.
During the two days which followed, Gladys and Seth held longconversations regarding the possible good fortune which might come tothe latter; but nothing definite was known until the hour when AuntHannah was allowed to sit in an easy-chair for the first time sincethe accident.
Then it was that Mr. Dean returned from New York, and came to make hisreport.
There was no longer any question but that it was really Seth's unclewho had lately died in San Francisco, or that he had bequeathed thesum of five thousand dollars to his nephew.
It appeared, according to Mr. Dean's story, as learned from Messrs.Symonds & Symonds, that Daniel Barrows had cared for his brother'schild to the extent of paying Richard Genet of Jersey City a certainsum of money each year to provide for and clothe the lad. Mr. Genethaving died suddenly, and without leaving anything to show whom Sethhad claims upon, the boy was left to his own devices, while his uncle,because of carelessness or indifference, made no effort to learn whatmight have become of the child.
There were certain formalities of law to be complied with before theinheritance would be paid, among which was the naming of a guardianfor the heir.
Aunt Hannah declared that it was her duty as well as pleasure to makethe lame boy one of her family, and to such end Mr. Dean had severalconferences with Symonds & Symonds, after which the little woman wasduly appointed guardian of the heir.
There is little more that can be told regarding those who now live onthe Morse farm, for the very good reason that all which has beenrelated took place only a few months ago; but at some time in thefuture, if the readers so please, it shall be the duty of the authorto set down what befell Aunt Hannah, Seth, Gladys, and Snip after theinheritance was paid.
That they were a very happy family goes without saying, for who couldbe discontented or fretful in Aunt Hannah's home? And in the days tocome, when Father Time lays his hand heavily upon the little woman,Seth knows that then, if not before, he can repay her in some degreefor the kindness shown when he and Snip were fugitives, fleeing fromnothing worse than a newspaper advertisement.
THE END.
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