CHAPTER VIII
_In which Clarence enters upon his career as a gypsy, and makes himself a disciple of Dora._
Clarence learned in the course of that day a good deal of hiscompanions. It was a divided camp. Pete was the official leader, but hisauthority was weak. He was a dried-up man with furtive eyes and hang-dogaspect. He had a genius for breaking the law and getting into trouble.If there were twenty ways of doing a thing, Pete invariably chose theleast honest. His range as a thief went from chickens to horses. Inthis, as in all other things, he was ably abetted by his shrewish wife.That remarkable woman had a gift for fortune-telling which was uncanny.It was not without reason that Dora suspected Pete’s wife of havingdealings with the devil. The woman had an intense hatred for anythingthat savored of the Catholic faith. Her eyes, whenever they fell uponDora, shot forth a baneful light. It was Ben who stood between the childand her malignity.
Ben was of different mould. He was brave, open and kind. A certaingentleness and refinement were observable in him and his wife. Doranoticed these things and pointed them out to Clarence. But she did nottell him, for she did not know it, that it was her presence, herexample, her sweetness and modesty, which had, to a great extent,developed in the gypsy couple these lovely qualities.
And, in truth, it was Dora who was, in a sense, the real leader. She wasthe uncrowned queen. Neat, spotless in attire, graceful of form and ofdazzling complexion, she was always fresh and bright and candid andsweet. Upon the perfect features there was a certain indefinableradiance—the radiance one finds so rarely on the faces of those whoappear to have been thinking long and lovely thoughts of God and whose“conversation is in heaven.” Dora knew well the companionship of saintsand angels. A keen sense of humor, made known now in rippling laughter,now in the twinkling of an eye, showed that the child was wholesomelyhuman. Ben seemed to worship the ground she trod upon; his wife was a noless ardent devotee, and the little children vied with each other inwinning her word or smile. Even Pete’s two graceless sons put asidetheir coarseness and what they could of their evil manners in herwinning and dainty presence. Wherever she moved, she seemed to evokefrom those she met undreamed-of acts of gentleness and sweetness andlove. And indeed before the day was spent, the child unwittingly won anew devotee—Master Clarence himself. Clarence, be it known, was in mostrespects a normal boy. He was also unusually clean in thought and inword and in life. He had never used a really coarse expression, and herecoiled from any sort of foulness. If one were to ask why this was so,there would be no adequate answer, save that there is no accounting forthe uncovenanted graces and mercies of God. A sort of instinct hadguided the boy, during his three years at Clermont Academy, in thechoice of his companions. He was always seeking the society of those heconsidered his betters. It took the lad little time to discover thatDora was pure, innocent, gentle, gracious, and high-minded above allwhom he had ever met. Before nightfall, he too was her slave.
Let there be no misunderstanding. The reader who considers this a caseof puppy love has missed the point. Clarence was at an age anddevelopment when the normal boy is little interested in the girl. But tohim Dora was something apart. She was set high on a pedestal. She was anideal. She stood to him for all that was good and beautiful andinspiring in human nature.
As for Dora herself, she had never before encountered a youth so blithe,so debonair, so clever of speech and quick of wit as the youngadventurer. She perceived something in the boy of which he himself wasscarcely aware—a knightliness, a gallantry that went with high ideals,a serene and lovely purity of heart. She, in turn, placed Clarence upona pinnacle, and was in intent his devoted slave. Within twenty-fourhours, she was unconsciously depending upon him.
On the very afternoon of their first day’s travel, she organized a“Catechism class,” consisting of Clarence, Ben, and his wife. It washeld in the wagon and lasted for an hour. Before it was ended, eachmember knew how to make the sign of the cross, and Master Clarencehimself, who had asked many questions and put many objections, wasbeginning to see that the Catholic Church was not so encrusted withsuperstitions, as he had supposed, nor in any wise, as he had once held,out of date.
Pete and his wife, upon understanding what was going on, were furious;the woman particularly so. The leader, afraid to wreak vengeance onDora, singled out Clarence as the victim to his rage. Many a secret blowdid the boy receive during the day’s journey.
At nightfall there came a heavy rain. All took shelter in the big tent.Clarence happened to remark how two nights previously he had beenengrossed in a wonderful story called Treasure Island.
“What was it about?” asked Ben.
“Do you want me to tell it?”
“Oh, do,” cried Dora. “I haven’t read a story or heard one for ever andever so long.”
“I like a nice story,” said Dorcas, Ben’s wife, beaming on the lad.
“Tell us Treasure Island,” begged one of the children.
And Clarence, thus adjured, set about recounting that wondrous tale ofships and pirates and buried treasures. At the first words, Pete and hiswife left the tent. But the others remained, and listened to a lad whocoupled an extraordinary memory with a flow of vivid language. The storywas in its first quarter when Pete returned and, to the disappointmentof all, announced bedtime. The guitar was brought, Gounod’s _Ave Maria_sung, and when sleep visited the eyes of Clarence, who kept himselfawake to hear Dora’s good-night hymn to the Blessed Mother, it visited ayoungster who in twenty-four hours had achieved a partnership with asingularly lovely child in the leadership of a gypsy band.